Riza comes out of the bathroom, wearing a teensy tiny blue dress that clings to her perfect body like a second skin. She looks great but then she always does. She’s just dyed her hair ginger, the color of the month. It suits her blue eyes.
“You gonna wear that shirt?” Riza asks while frowning at the white shirt I’m busy working my arms through. She slips on her high heels, and I have to admit they make her legs looks awesome.
“Yeah. Kelly told me to.” I can feel a headache coming on!
“It’s a club, nothing like the parties we used to go to in college.”
Screw this! I grab the Guns N' Roses shirt I was wearing originally and drag it over my head. I tie the shirt in a knot behind my back so it pulls up just above my belly button, stretched tightly over my breasts. That should please Kelly. It looks great with the denim skirt I have on. I find my one sandal by the cupboard and look for the other one under the bed. I find it and quickly put them on. “There, I’m done. Let’s go,” I say and I walk towards the door.
“Yeah baby, swing that ass,” Kelly slaps me on my butt as she darts by me.
“We look so good they might just offer us jobs,” Riza jokes.
I don’t think it’s funny. I don’t want to look like a stripper. I move to untie the knot but Riza’s hand on my arm stops me. “Oh no, you don’t! Leave it like that. You look all kinds of smexy.”
“Smart I can believe, but sexy? No way, girl. You and Kelly have the sexy factor. I’m cool with being the brains of this operation,” I laugh. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not the insecure kind. Like everyone, I have positives and negatives. I’m cute and have amazing blonde hair, which girls would kill to have. I have huge grey eyes that have gotten me out of all kinds of trouble. I just wish I could be a little taller, like Riza and Kelly. Kelly’s the tallest, and no one fills a pair of jeans like she does. She’s always wearing jeans, even tonight, with her favorite pair of biker boots.
We all squeeze into the back of a cab. A few minutes later, Riza squeals next to me, “Oh.My.Gosh! It looks so hot from outside, just imagine the inside.”
I follow her gaze and the first thing I spot is the massive neon light that’s in the shape of a man bending a woman over and smacking her on the ass. As the lights flicker it looks like his hand is moving, spanking her with every other flickering of the red and yellow lights.
When the cab stops, my eyes are still glued to the flickering lights. There’s a nervous twist in my stomach.
“Here’s to sex, drugs and alcohol,” Kelly says as we all pile out of the cab.
“You’re on your own with the drugs. Just let one of us know if you decide to do some so we can watch you make an ass of yourself,” Riza says from over her shoulder, her eyes drinking in the entrance of the club.
There’s a fountain to the left and a burgundy carpet reaches all the way to the rope from inside the club. A beefy-looking bouncer is letting people in after checking their invites.
Riza filled in an application for us online and the club approved it, sending us our private invites. Riza’s been on cloud nine ever since. The club apparently doesn’t just let anyone through their doors, you have to be screened and sign a contract that whatever happens in the club, stays in the club.
Riza hands over our black, gold and burgundy invites. After the bouncer scans the info, he looks up. “To the right is a booth where you hand in your belongings. No cameras allowed.” He looks absolutely bored as he says this. He must’ve repeated it a thousand times already.
We walk down a shadowy hallway, the burgundy carpet plush under our feet. A muffled beat grows louder as we move further in. We stop at the booth and as unhappy as I am about handing my purse over, I don’t have much of a choice if I want to go in.
“What about money for drinks?” Kelly asks. Yeah, trust her to only think of alcohol when she’s handing over her purse to a stranger.
“You run a tab and settle it when you leave,” the hostess says with a stunning smile. It helps to put me at ease.
We each get stamped with a number. I notice it’s the same number as the small cubicle my purse is resting in. Number six. I freaking hate the number six. Couldn’t it have been any other number? Six is the unluckiest number ever.
“Cool-beans, I’ve got number nine,” Riza says, quite pleased. “Oh shit, this is so exciting,” she squeals. I don’t feel the same excitement as her. My nerves are grinding against each other from not knowing what to expect.
The hall breaks through into a large sitting area, decorated in black, gold and burgundy, those colors seem to be the theme of the club. It makes everything look mysterious, dare I say even a little sultry. Round tables are situated everywhere with a huge stage taking up the whole one side of the club.
We’ve been here twenty minutes already. We’re still waiting for the show to start and Kelly and Riza are on their second drinks. I’m still trying to finish my first. I can’t put them away as fast as they do.
“Don’t look now but to our right up on the balcony is the hottest group of men. Not one of you can say that we had something like that back in college,” Riza whispers with a huge grin on her face.
I wait a few seconds and look. The first man I see is blond, his hair shaggy. His eyes catch mine with a huge grin on his face, and I quickly look away.
“Don’t both look at the same time!” Riza hisses under her breath. “Geez, way to throw our names away. Take turns looking. They’ll know we’re interested if we all gawk at them. This is an upscale place. We have to make them work for it.”
“Work for what?” I ask, forcing my eyes to my drink and not back to the men.
“If any of them want a piece of my ass, they have to chase, preferably in the form of paying for our drinks.”
Before I can comment the lights dim and the room grows foggy, as mist is sprayed into the club from the stage’s direction. There’s a loud boom, followed by bright lights and then the spotlight reveals a man dressed in torn jeans and a white t-shirt. A woman is kneeling at his feet. The woman is face down, so I can’t make out what she’s wearing.
Another boom and my eyes grow huge in their sockets as the man grabs hold of the woman’s hair, yanking her from her kneeling position up against his leg. Her face is right next to his … ah … package. She’s topless! I didn’t expect to see anything so soon and my body flushes hot with embarrassment.
“Way to ease us in,” I mumble, slouching down in the chair.
“Don’t be such a wuss. Maybe you can learn something here,” Kelly teases and then she reaches for my drink. She finishes it in one big gulp. She catches the eye of a waiter and places another order for us.
My eyes are glued to the stage. The woman is now dancing seductively around the man, her hands all over his chest. She rips off his shirt and my jaw drops open, again.
“Hallo hotness,” Riza says, “I hope she keeps stripping him.”
He takes the ripped shirt and ties the woman’s hands behind her back. I sit up a bit straighter in my chair. I’ve only read about men tying women up. Seeing it is a bit shocking, but hot at the same time.
He pushes her down on the floor and as he reaches for her panties, I look away. This is way too much for me.
“Oh hell,” Kelly squeals, “He just ripped off her panties!”
“I don’t need a running commentary! I’m going to the toilet,” I hiss. I follow the sign and let out a breath of relief as the toilet’s door closes behind me, muting the music and sounds.
I take my time in the toilet, in no hurry to go back. This is not my kind of thing. Where Riza and Kelly don’t mind watching porn once in a while, I don’t like watching. It’s too fake and I want to experience the emotion that goes with sex, not just the act itself. I love reading about it, and imagining the things myself. I don’t like seeing it. I get too flustered with embarrassment and then the girls take advantage of it and tease me mercilessly.
When I head back to the table I find it empty. I didn’t see them going to
the toilet and start to look around. Where the hell did they go?
“Your friends are seated on the balcony,” a waiter informs me. My eyes dart up and meet a happy looking Riza. She waves at me.
I can’t believe they’ve gone and sat with those men!
“I’ll show you the way,” the waiter pulls my attention back to him. I’m reluctant to follow him, but my friends are there and we promised to always stick together. I’m out voted on this one.
I follow the waiter to a door at the back of the club. There’s a narrow passage that leads to what looks like an exit. To my immediate right is another door and a little further down is one to my left. The waiter opens for me the door and shows for me to go in. I take the stairs slowly, trying to prolong the moment before I have to face a table full of strange men.
I see the blonde guy first, he’s sitting between Kelly and Riza. Kelly’s eyes are on the stage, and Riza is smiling up at the blonde guy.
Kelly spots me and smiles. “That’s Garrett,” she points to the man nearest to me. His dark brown hair is cut short and neat. He’s sporting a day old beard that makes him look dangerously handsome. He stands up and I see he’s wearing jeans and a charcoal shirt. I’m staring so much I almost miss it as Kelly goes on to introduce the others. “And this is Justin.” My eyes jump to the other man. There are some similarities between Garrett and Justin, but Justin’s hair is longer and he’s clean shaven. They both have the darkest shade of brown eyes I’ve ever seen. “And this is Warren,” she ends by introducing the blonde guy.
Riza’s eyes are still sparkling up at Warren. She must be pleased with the attention he’s giving her.
“Let me,” Garrett says politely, pulling out a chair between himself and Justin for me. I hate that the men have separated us from each other by sitting between us.
~*~
Twisted Boundaries
A Boundaries Novel
Prologue
Birdie~
There are different shades to black. There’s your normal black, then there’s the kind where it’s so dark you see spots.
It’s so dark you see things children shouldn’t see.
It’s so dark you see the Bogeyman.
It’s the one Daddy whispers about through the door. “Here comes the Bogeyman. The Bogeyman’s coming to get you!”
It’s so dark you see fear in every speck of dust.
And then you smell it when you wet yourself. You feel it when it gets cold, because you’re standing in your own pee, and there’s nothing you can do about it because you’re locked in the closet.
You smell fear. You smell it in the stench around you when the hours become months. You taste the fear in your tears. You hear it when your stomach growls for food.
The Bogeyman is real. The Bogeyman is my daddy.
He only listens to one song. The man plays guitar, plucking the strings hard, as hard as the Bogeyman drinks.
The man sings about skeletons in the closet and the Bogeyman sings with him. “I’ve got a skeleton in the closet and she ain’t ever coming out,” he sings loud, but sometimes he’ll stand in front of the closet and he’ll whisper, those are the days I believe him. “I’ve got a skeleton in the closet and she ain’t ever coming out.”
~*~
Chapter One
Birdie~
“You almost ready, Dear?” Mrs. Beasley calls, and it’s soon followed by her distinctive double tap on my door.
“Yeah, you can come in,” I say, sitting on the floor with my back against the base of the bed.
Her eyes take me in with one quick swoop and I don’t miss the the flash of … is it sadness?
“You sure you want to wear a sweater? It’s hot out. I could give you one of my blouses,” she tries again. I love her for it. I know she’s only trying, but I wish she’d let it go. This is what I want to wear. I feel comfortable wearing my sweaters.
“Nope, I’m good,” I mumble, sticking a picture on the page I’m busy with. I have a weird hobby of writing out the lyrics to every song I like and surrounding them with pictures I feel suits them best. Today’s song is What if you by Joshua Radin and I’ve just finished sticking a picture of Cole Trenton next to the lyrics. The song reminds me of him, the guy I’ve had a crush on since the first day I saw him. I took one look at his blue eyes and brown hair, and I was a gonner. He’s the only one that gets it right to stir a happy feeling inside of me.
“Good, let’s go then. We don’t want to keep the people waiting,” Mrs. Beasley says.
I slip the page into a plastic sleeve and place it on my desk before running after her. I hate going with them but there is no way Link will go, so that leaves only me. It’s important for them to come across as a family when they’re doing their weekly visits. I can’t let them down after everything they’ve done for me. They took me in without asking anything in return.
I think it’s selfish of Link to not go with after they took him when his father went to jail for selling drugs. Link was only nine and had nowhere else to go. His momma died when he was still a baby and apparently they couldn’t trace anybody on his momma’s side to take him. That’s how he ended up being taken in by the Beasley’s. It was the same with me. There’s no one left on my momma’s side and I’d rather not think of my father.
Pastor Beasley gives me an encouraging smile as I step out onto the porch. He knows I hate going to these dinners, but he appreciates it.
“Thanks, Kiddo. I owe you one,” he says as we start toward the ‘ole’ wagon’, as we affectionately call it. The only thing keeping the station wagon together is the ton of rust. But it gets us from point A to point B.
“I get to choose the next movie,” I sing as I slip into the backseat.
“It’s a deal,” he says, before I close the door.
I listen to them discussing the upcoming young married couples’ camp as we drive to the other side of town, to where the richer neighborhoods are. Yes, even the rich people invite us over. Everyone loves Pastor Beasley. He’s the heart of Lyman.
My heart starts to pump faster as we turn into Cole’s street and I automatically start to count the houses down until we reach his. When the car starts to slow my tongue feels thick. The ole’ wagon turns up his driveway and I dig my nails into the old material of the seat.
“The Trenton’s? We’re coming to the Trenton’s?” I shriek from the back.
“Yes, but the Mason’s will also be here. You know the boys, don’t you, Dear? Don’t they have some classes with you or Link?” Mrs. Beasley asks, unaware of the mini nervous breakdown I’m having in the backseat.
“They have some classes with Link and Reece. I hardly ever talk to them. I’d rather skip this visit,” I say, almost pleading. It’s one thing to admire Cole at school where we are surrounded by the other kids. It’s a whole ‘nother ball game when I have to be around him with no one to hide behind.
It’s not that I’m scared of being around Cole, not at all. I have one hell of a crush on Cole. I might even love him… I think. Our lockers have been next to each other since I started school and I’ve enjoyed every locker moment we’ve shared. But to spend an evening in his house? That’s borderline suicidal.
“You’ll have fun. The evenings you never plan are the ones you enjoy most,” Pastor Beasley says.
I roll my eyes at his annoying saying. Normally I love his sayings but tonight I hate them. There is no way I’m going to enjoy this. I work hard at being invisible. How on earth am I going to manage that? Maybe I can slip away when no one is watching? Maybe I can offer my help in the kitchen and just stay there? Maybe I can-
The front door opens and an older version of Cole steps out onto the porch. Definitely, his dad.
“Pastor Beasley, thank you so much for comin’,” he says, reaching out his hand.
They laugh and talk, but when I see Cole standing behind his dad, I can’t hear anything above the blood rushing through my ears. I dart back behind the wall. Sucking in deep breaths, I wait for Past
or Beastly and Mrs. Beastly to walk in first. I really don’t have a choice anymore. Everyone has gone inside. I force my feet forward and keeping my head down, I slip inside.
“Hi, Bridget.” Cole brushes past me, numbing every part of my body. He closes the door behind me and the clicking sound brings me crashing down to Mother Earth.
“Hi,” I squeak and it pretty much sounds like I sucked on a balloon filled with helium. Kill me now! Listening for the voices, I follow them until I find them in the living room. I dart to Pastor Beasley’s side and almost fall down beside him. He smiles at me and gives my hand a quick squeeze. Normally it helps to settle my nerves. This time it does nothing.
My eyes follow Cole as he walks by me to where Travis is sitting at a bar area in what looks like an entertainment area. He leans his elbow on the counter and it makes the fabric of the chocolate brown shirt he’s wearing stretch across his chest. It complements his tanned complexion. My eyes drift back up to his face and when my eyes meet his, a blush creeps up my neck.
Way to go, Bridget. Why not just drool next time while you’re at it?! His icy blue eyes don’t look away from mine and Pastor Beasley has to nudge me to get my attention.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tearing my eyes away from Cole.
“Mrs. Trenton is talkin’, Dear,” Pastor Beasley fills me in on what I’ve been missing while openly day dreaming over Cole.
“I was sayin’ that you’ve become quite the beauty,” Mrs. Trenton says, and that seals my embarrassment for the evening. I’m officially dying.
“Thank you,” I murmur. Looking for Pastor Beasley’s hand, I grab hold with no intention of letting go. Right now I need his strength, all of it.
“You were such a tiny thing when you came to Lyman,” Mrs. Mason says, and my heart starts to beat faster. Pastor Beasley tightens his hold on my hand and starts rubbing slow circles with his thumb on the back of my hand. It helps to give me something else to concentrate on. “At least you got some height over the years.”
Saved By Her Page 18
