The Runaway Viper (Viper #2)

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  I nod my head, listening to him. I hang my head again and strive to gather the remains of my last nerve. I need it before they disintegrate into nothingness.

  “Joely!” Clara calls out, and both Eli and I part drastically. She’s holding a glass of fruity goodness. “You’re here to clean.” She’s got a devilish look to her. “I think you’ll find you missed a spot.” She then tips her glass, pouring her drink all over one of the tables, onto the chairs and surrounding floor I had already cleaned. “Eli, you’re not here to talk to the runaway.”

  “She hit her head,” Eli spoke apologetically. “Also, she’s looking a bit faint. Can I please fix her something to eat?” We both watch for a moment. “Ms. Delvine, you don’t want her dropping like a sack of potatoes because she hasn’t been fed.”

  “Fine,” Clara waves him off. “But don’t keep her from her job.” She then disappears.

  “I’ll clean that mess while you make me something,” I state dryly as I force myself to stand. The head rush is overpowering, but I need to plow on. I cannot falter at the first set of hurdles I am presented with.

  “Sure?” Eli asks, his hands out as if to catch me.

  “Sure,” I retort and grab the roll of cloths and follow him across the quiet bar. He carries on going while I drop to my knees. I start to soak the liquid up, inwardly cursing the worse swear words possible about Clara. My mind is merely filled with total blasphemy. I work solidly, cleaning up the mess and making sure there is nothing left that could rile Clara. I stand up, working my way around the table.

  “Hey,” Eli stops me. “Sit down and eat this,” he tells me, pushes a sandwich under my nose.

  I gratefully take it and fall into one of the chairs. At least someone has my back here.

  ***

  I’m back chained to the wall. I was offered a shower, a makeover, and the idea of a party to end the night. I didn’t plan on enjoying it, but I planned on being out there, in being a part of The Viper Rooms vibe. Except, I was given the idea of a grand night, but was torn away from it. It was all a sick illusion. Clara was throwing a party to rub in my face how unwanted I was right now. I was given champagne and a chance to be a part of the pre-party as long as I remained by Clara’s side.

  When the first client arrived I was thrown back in the pit.

  I’ve been left, but Sam has just strode in with total, unadulterated glory ready to work at Clara’s will.

  “You’re needed,” Sam grunts at me unhappily. He unchains me and pulls me up from the floor. He, unlike Shads earlier, drags me out of the room. When we get to the main room, he releases me, holding me courteously. He makes it seem like he’s guiding me through the onslaught of male clientele.

  And that’s when I see her. Seeing her getting everything she ever wanted is a hard sight to see. I always knew she’d get that golden spot, but she is quite literally taking all the attention she can get and is using it to have as much ownership as possible. She is acting as if she is queen bee now.

  Cassidy is giggling away, lapping up the attention she’s getting, until she sees me. The way her face ignites at the sight of me is wickedly different from how it previously was. “Oops, didn’t realize the dog would have to get the aftermath of that.” She giggles again, winking at Sam before sauntering off.

  I don’t get time to realize what room I am being taken to until I’m in it and abandoned. I’m left with what used to be my old room. The walls have been stripped of their former, lighter color and painted a dark auburn. There’s a four poster bed, the frame painted black. There’s chains and copious other devices around the bed, and I shudder at the thought of their use. Apparently I’m a lot more prudish than I once was.

  I then take in the state of the room, and I’m horrified. There’s champagne spilt everywhere, broken glass, ice scattering the floor. The bed is a mess, varying amounts of sex toys laying around and my stomach recoils. This is all so animalistic – I’m dressed to the nines, and yet I’m cleaning up after someone’s dirty sex acts.

  I close my eyes, ask a higher deity for the vigour to get me through this. I jump when the door slams behind me, and I see that anointed cleaning bucket again. There’s no way I can ignore what needs to be done. I clean away the dirt and grime from the room. I take it slow, disgusted with every bit I discard of.

  I'm fueled by the champagne bubbles and lull of music on the other side of the door. I stand up, approach the large oak panel and press my hand to it. It's now dawning on me how I actually do miss that life. It's not an enormous part that ebbs away in yearning for the glitz and glamor. No, it's actually tiny - almost insignificant, but it’s there. I suppose this is what Clara wants me to feel. She wants me to yearn to be a Viper Girl again. She wants me to need her to give me it all back.

  But I can’t do that yet, and I have to resign myself to my new ranking. I'm not allowed to enjoy these parties and have fun. I'm The Viper Rooms' dog. It's time to get back onto my hands and knees and clean the twisted and discarded memories from this room.

  Chapter Twelve

  “It could all be yours again, Joely,” Clara comments, walking out into my old kitchen as she does so.

  I shake my head, rubbing my forehead. I’ve had a headache since I was released from my place in the pit, and it’s not gotten any better between cleaning the club and being dragged to my old apartment complex. I had sniggered when we arrived, finding this some sick joke on Clara’s behalf, but apparently she had more intent than I had first presumed.

  “Just think, Joely,” Clara begins as she sets her hands upon my old black granite countertops. “You have four years with us, just make it somewhat comfortable for yourself.”

  “Nothing about being here will ever be comfortable,” I bite, unable to keep myself from being bitter. “Being here won’t make it better.”

  She sighs, pushing off from the surface and heads over to me. “I hate this woman he made you into. You were always so willing and giving, and now you’re so full of hatred.” She reaches out for me.

  “Don’t touch me!” I snap harshly, whacking her hand away. “You might have had your heart broken and became this harsh woman, but I don’t intend to ever be like you. I am not like you.”

  She laughs; it’s short of a giggle, almost her trademark cackle, but whatever - it’s ridiculing me profusely. “Joely, all of you girls are given an opportunity because you all remind me of me. You all have what it takes to become like me and emulate what I preach.”

  “What you preach?” I ask, laughing at her lunacy as it pounces to life once more. “Clara, what you preach is abuse and dishonesty. I’m sorry I fell in love with one of your clients, but I won’t ever apologize for some of the sacrifices I’ve had to make. I can’t apologize for what my heart wanted. I didn’t choose to fall for him, it just happened!”

  “And that’s why you’re so weak,” Clara admonishes, mocking me for listening to the simple beat of my heart. “You thought you knew best when it’s me who knows best.”

  “No, you don’t!” I argue, not allowing her to believe her sanctimonious inner voice. “You think you do, but what you want is a horde of girls who are as heartless and cruel as you are! I’m the first one to rebel against that and you couldn’t take it! You couldn’t cut me loose and allow me to run. No, you had to hunt me down and drag me back. You can torture me all you like, but I will never be one of your girls again. Not like before.”

  “We aren’t continuing this argument,” Clara declares, ending our vocal feud for the time being. “I want you to think hard about what deal I am giving you. I don’t care if you live in the pit for the remainder of your time with me or if you live here. It’s no skin off my nose. You’re the only one to suffer.”

  I don’t attack this time. I just watch her sober up, absorbing the moment. She wants me to fight her so she has a reason to retaliate. I’m not a fresh-faced victim anymore. I know her game, I know what being branded a Viper Girl means, and I won’t fall for it easily.

  “I’ll
leave you,” she speaks gravely, clearly her throat. “Your things are all here as you left them. So if you want to bring them back to the club you can. I have no problem with that.”

  I nod. I won’t bring myself to converse with her, even if she is at her sanest right now. I know she’s trying to make me feel like I need the material items she gifted me with. She wants me to lie awake wishing I was here, but I can’t. It would take more than forcing me into my past to make me beg for it back. It will take more than the pit and this apartment to get on my knees and ask for my old status.

  “I’ll give you an hour,” she announces, sensing my deliberation, and leaves without a proper goodbye.

  As the door slams, there’s a somber feeling around me. There’s so much lonely air around me here now. It feels like a total waste of breath. Everything has lost all its color, it’s almost stagnant and dull. I feel listless and detached with the reality I have been thrust into. I know I chose to exchange places with Jace, but it doesn’t make it easier.

  If I could just see Jace, I know my fight would be revived. If I could just feel him close for a moment, I would be able to feel some strength given back to me. Memories aren’t as powerful as they should be when I’m plunged into total darkness and left to deal with the isolation.

  Then it hits me - if all my stuff is still here, I can only hope my stuff is still as I left it. I rush over to my bedside table and open the drawer. It’s the same one I used to keep the cell phone Jace issued me with, but now it’s just filled with useless artifacts of my past life. I bury my hands amongst the hair bands, discarded pain relief packets and pieces of jewelery to seek out the photo that I left beneath it all. Withdrawing my hand, I find myself met with Jace’s smiling face.

  Stumbling back into the main room, I fall onto the sofa and stare at my husband’s face. I never thought I could feel a void within me quite like the one I did after Dylan died, but apparently the one Jace leaves is far worse and nowhere near repairable. It’s gaping and screeching from inside, begging for absolution. I have no other way to heal it but to await my contract ending and I’m not sure it’ll be so forgiving in three years.

  I feel the crushing pain within me. It crashes in as I look at the photo of Jace and me from when we snuck out to Fire Island. The horror of our separation is mounted with the grief I feel at him being in hospital. I can’t run the risk of even sneaking into see him because I am watched like a hawk. Every move I make, every breath I take is reported back to Clara.

  Every time I close my eyes, even for a millisecond, I just only see Jace. He’s always bloodied, beaten, and weak. Looking back to the photo, I realized I had begun to fear in the early hours of this morning that I was never going to see him in this sort of glory. Now as this image taints the impression in my head, I still think of him in a hospital bed, and it hits me hard that I put him there. The sudden wash of pain and blame is in copious amounts, but he never blamed me. No, Jace only ever begged me to come back to him.

  Setting the picture down upon the coffee table, I decide he is the first thing to come back with me. My first material good to never relinquish hold off. Even if I have to fold the photo up and shove into the back pocket of these jeans Clara gave me. I won’t allow them to take that from me.

  Taking a deep breath, I stand up and look around the apartment, wondering where I should explore first. I wonder if walking the perimeter of the rooms will have me craving the life back. I feel myself inwardly laugh and decide to explore what has really been left here, not what is waiting for me.

  I could walk every inch of this apartment in search for what is wrong with it. But the only misplaced item is me. The couches are still set ready for entertainment or for watching the television. The pots and pans in the kitchen are still very much hanging from their chosen hooks above the center island. My bedroom is still how I left it. The memories of Jace taking me on the counter, across the side cabinet in the hallway, in the shower against the tiles are still scorched into every surface.

  The only thing that changed is the person who once lived here.

  I go back into my old bedroom and purposely make a detour to the bed. I fall upon it and immediately my body cries out in delight at the luxury of a mattress. My back feels the support and comfort, and my eyes flutter close with tranquillity. My body, for the first time in days, eases from its tensed stature. The familiarity of this alone is enough to have me begging for it all back, but what type of person does that make me? I'm not spoilt or needy of money and expensive things, but having been issued a concrete floor as a bed, I could spend eternity wrapped within these sheets and never leave them again.

  I spend another indulgent moment where I am before I open my eyes, haul myself upright, and slip from the bed. Heaven forgotten, I head to my wardrobe and open the doors. It’s still filled with my clothes, the material spilling out everywhere. I see the bead work of some of my favorite dresses, the clashes of colors that live together and ponder taking some with me. What use will I have for them when on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor like some modern day Cinderella? Closing the doors, I decide I won’t take any of those extravagant clothes with me. If I do, it will only look like I’m willing to listen to the command of Clara Delvine three days into my captivity.

  I go to the window which exits onto the fire escape. The last time I had this open was when Jace presented with that enormous breakfast feast. I unlock the window and push it up, feeling the warm breeze bustle through. I climb out, clambering onto the metal stairs of the fire escape, and go and sit on the opposite end. I've spent many times before sitting with my legs dangling off the edge, daydreaming about a better life outside of The Viper Rooms.

  I never thought I'd be back here again so soon doing the same thing.

  But as I sit down, swinging my legs over the side under the railings, I gaze out upon New York and just wonder how I will ever be free. Eli was right, the club is a curse. It will haunt me always and Clara will only let me leave when she’s happily broken me down to a weakling like all the other girls before. She likes her girls to think they only ever need the club, but when she discards of us, we’ll have nothing. Like she had once upon a time.

  I lean forward, placing my arms up on the lower railing and lay my head upon them. It scares me to see the other girls go through that, but that is the way of life in The Viper Rooms. You go from rags to riches, only to go back to rags. It’s not something I want to experience now I have been free for some time. Jace made sure I had everything I needed to live securely and be happy, but it never lasted. My happiness seems to never last long anymore. I don't even pay attention when my heartbreak becomes evident and tears stream down my face. He gave up so much, only to have it thrown back at him. He lost me, and I lost him. Our sacrifices once meant so much to both of us, but now they seem to be have been for nothing. He’s hurt, and I’m trapped once again.

  "Cassidy always did want this apartment," Brianna speaks up, breaking my deafening silence.

  I sit up and wipe my face, clearing my cheeks of the ribbons of tears.

  “You don’t have to do that, you know?” she asks me with a precautious tone. “You don't have to cover up around me.” She doesn’t move from her spot at the window. I never even heard her climb out behind me, but a part of me is grateful she did. “I saw Clara leave about fifteen minutes ago, and I couldn’t stay away.”

  I pat the floor beside me. “Come and sit down.” I might not want this life, but a sense of the ‘old times’ wouldn’t harm me right now. I can almost feel the hesitancy radiate off her. “Bree, just come and sit here.”

  She scuttles her way toward me, and I loathe this distance thrown between us. I know she’s to blame, but in the eight months I was away I gained a lot clarity and acknowledged that Brianna was given a bargain, she was stupid not to accept. Had the tables been turned I would have probably taken it too.

  “I heard you got married,” she comments quietly. “Clara literally went through the roof. It was a pretty pub
lic breakdown she had.” I just laugh and hold my left hand up to her, showing my wedding ring. “She hasn’t taken it off you then?”

  “I’d like to see her try,” I joke and hear Brianna laugh slightly. “She can take whatever else she wants, but she’s not taking him away from me entirely.”

  There’s a heavy silence that settles between us. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s easy. There’s a lot I have to work on with people in the club, but Brianna isn’t someone I want to hate forever. I want all the truths out, all of our cards laid bare for us to be able move on. I know what I’m about to ask is going to hurt her most, but we need to start somewhere. I’ve just chosen it be in the middle, not at the beginning.

  "I heard about the overdose," I comment to break the stillness between us and immediately Brianna shies away from the subject. I reach out to her, grabbing her hand in mine. "No matter what you did, you don't deserve this."

  “I do,” she tells me as her lips tremble. “I deserve all the crap happening because I sure as hell gave up the best thing I had. I ruined the one thing that kept me from sinking.”

  I grab her hand tighter this time. “You don’t deserve this,” I reiterate myself to her, my voice forced with conviction, and I see her tears fall.

  "Nor do you," she whispers, her eyes watering. "But look what I had a hand in doing, Joely. Look what I did. Had I just said no we wouldn't be here."

  "She knew before. She was just using you to solidify what she already knew." I watch her eyes morph with confusion, the horror of the truth laying itself upon her. “She knows everything,” I joke, rolling my eyes as they water. “Nothing is sacred when we’re under the terms and conditions of Clara Delvine.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she agrees with a short giggle in her tone. “You’ve had her panties in a twist for almost a year, Gilbert. You deserve a reward.”

  “Shame she can’t see that,” I jest lightly and decide that if I have some time left here, I’m going to use it wisely. “There’s some wine in the fridge,” I comment and look at her. “I’m pretty sure the wonder of wine is there isn’t an expiry date on it.”