by Rhonda Bowen
“Delia.”
Her brush pauses momentarily, but she doesn’t look up at me.
I lean against the dresser and try to catch her gaze. “What’s going on, Deels? I come home, and you are gone. Then Cordelia tells me you’re doing the auction. She said you chose to do the auction.”
“Chose?” Delia laughs mirthlessly. “When do we ever really have a choice around here?”
I take the brush from her hands and spin her chair to face me. “Talk to me.”
Delia takes a deep breath. “She has photos…and video.”
I shake my head. “Of what?”
Delia looks up. “Of me.”
The deadness in her voice matches the emptiness in her eyes. I can see it. She’s given up.
“She says if I don’t do this, she’ll send it to Jayden’s parents.” Delia squeezes her eyes tight. “I already knew I couldn’t be with him again. But for him to see me like that...”
She drags in a shaky breath and opens her eyes. “I couldn’t live with that.”
I don’t know what to say. I knew Cordelia would do something with the information on Jayden. What I didn’t know was that she was keeping footage of us around for insurance. How long has she been doing this? What kind of footage does she have on Delia? On me?
I shake my head. “I know this seems terrible, Delia, but believe me, doing the auction... It’s worse.”
Delia turns back to the mirror. “It’s just one night. But to know that Jayden will remember me forever like this...”
“Delia, you can’t do the auction,” I feel my chest tighten. “I know you think it’s just one night, but a lot can happen in one night. A lot that you...that can change you forever.”
I am trying to stay calm, hoping that the sweat breaking out on my forehead is not noticeable. But I see Delia pause before she turns to face me again.
“A lot like what?”
My eyes read the questions on her face. I should tell her. I have to tell her what happened when I was her age. When I did the auction the first and only time. When my life changed forever.
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
“Look, I know the auction is not your thing,” Delia says. “Amanda told me you never do them, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t have those photos of me out there like that. I can’t have Jayden know this is who I am. It’s just one night. I’ll survive it.”
Would she? I certainly hadn’t.
But why should another person’s life be ruined like mine was? How can I just stand here and let it happen? I can’t. I won’t.
I leave Delia in front of the mirror and head out of the room. My legs are shaking, and my insides are beginning to soften into jelly. I am sure fear will turn me into a puddle on the floor before I can make it back to the photoshoot, but somehow, I find myself standing in front of Cordelia complete and whole.
“I’ll do it.”
Cordelia barely glances up at me from her cell phone. “You’ll do what?”
“I’ll do the auction.” The words are like acid in my throat as they come up. “You burn the photos you have of Delia, and I will take her place in the auction.”
Cordelia freezes and for the first time ever I see shock frame her features. “You are offering to have Carina Bell in the auction?”
“Under the terms I outlined.”
Cordelia narrows her eyes. “Carina Bell, full service for New Year’s Eve?”
I hold her gaze and watch the smile curve her lips.
“Interesting. For the first time, we might have an actual bidding war.”
“Delia’s out.”
Cordelia folds her arms, her canary smile firmly in place. “Of course. One Carina Bell is worth two of her, easily.”
I shake my head. “Everything is about money for you, isn’t it?”
“Everything in this world is about money. The sooner you realize that the better.”
I scowl. “You make me sick.”
Cordelia tsks. “Nevermind, we have Gravol for that. Tessa!” She waves her hand and a slim blond with a clipboard comes over. “Can you find me two outfits for Carrie and then get her in makeup. Let’s see if we can get her shots in today. We need to get her photos up on the website by tomorrow.”
I follow Tessa down the hallway but even as I do, I know I won’t make it. And as I duck into the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach in the toilet bowl, I am even less sure I will make it into the New Year.
Chapter 20
I refuse to look at the counter.
It’s midday, New Year’s Eve. In one hour, the bidding will close. The hour after that, the grooming will begin. Then at six, the blackest moment of my life will repeat itself. Because no matter what happens tonight, my mind won’t realize it’s in the present. I won’t be twenty-seven-year-old Carrie Bishop. I will be the nineteen-year-old girl who had her innocence ripped from her on New Year’s Eve.
“It’s up to... Oh my God,” Amanda breathes. “This can’t be right.”
I still don’t look. Instead, I stare out the window in the upstairs bedroom that used to be mine and is still mine on the occasions I have to be in this prison. I stare out the window at light snow floating in wispy white flakes and see none of it at all. All I see is her.
Her pale skin, only slightly tinted with honey. Her eyes, bronze, sparkled with gold. They are my eyes. Her hair, loose dark curls. I can still remember the last time I heard her laugh. Those eyes lighting up brighter than the bulbs on the tree at the Rockefeller Center. Bright enough to illuminate the room. Certainly bright enough to reach into the dark corners of my life and sweep away the dreariness.
I can do this for her. For Delia. Because if I don’t…
“You know when Mother said she was going to start the bidding for Carina Bell at three thousand, I thought she was joking.” Amanda leans back against the pillows on the bed. “She clearly knew what she was doing.”
Delia folds her legs up under her. “Knowing her, she knows who’s bidding too.”
She isn’t the only one. I know too.
I suspected it yesterday when I saw the white Mercedes pull up to the curb as I was leaving. I knew that white Mercedes. I knew the plates. I knew the white leather interior and custom engravings on the back of the headrest. The images of them are burned into my memory in a way I will never forget. He had come here to see her. And there could only be one reason. For me.
“Carrie, are you sure you want to do this?”
Delia’s hand on my shoulder makes me flinch. Her touch is concern, but I can’t bear anyone’s touch right now. Not when I know the kind of touch that will be coming soon.
Dizziness floods through me. I am not sure if it is because of my thoughts or because I haven’t eaten in a day. I will have to fix that soon. I doubt I will be able to keep anything down.
“It’s too late to back out now,” Amanda says. I hear a tinge of something in her voice. Jealousy? I would laugh if my emotions weren’t in the process of going numb.
“Amanda, you’re up.”
A voice at the door summons Amanda, and she leaves without saying goodbye. Delia closes the door behind her and then it’s just the two of us. She is about to say something when the phone rings. My phone. I don’t look at that either.
“He’s calling again.”
I close my eyes. He is nothing if not persistent. I had stopped taking his calls the moment I agreed to the auction. It is the break between Christmas and New Year’s and the office is officially closed, so I am not obligated to be in touch. In any case, I know he isn’t calling about work. I also know that if I answer the phone, he will know something is wrong before I even say a word. It is scary the way he has been able to see so clearly into me recently. I still get shivers when I think about the day on the couch in my living room when he figured out my secret - or part of it at least. A little digging on the internet and he would know who Carina Bell is. He probably already knows. He will never come across the auction site as tha
t is for private participants only. But knowing that men paid for my time? Well, a little asking around among the right people might uncover that secret.
That’s why I can’t talk to him.
That and the fact that he is the only person that can probably talk me out of this madness. And then where would that leave Delia? Where would that leave her?
“You should talk to him.”
I shake my head.
Delia sighs. “He cares about you, Carrie. It doesn’t take special skills to see that.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“At least let him know you’re okay.”
I don’t answer, but don’t turn to look at her either. The phone continues to ring in the silence between us.
“Fine. I’ll talk to him.” I hear Delia sigh. “Hello?”
“Uh, no, this is Delia, her sister...uh, yeah she is...She’s uhh, pretty occupied right now...I will…probably not.”
Another sigh from Delia. I glance back at her. She is chewing on her bottom lip, the phone still pressed to her ear. I can hear the voice on the other end but can’t make out the words. But I can guess the question when Delia looks up at me, sorrow in her eyes.
“No...it isn’t.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Yes.”
Delia pulls the phone away from her ear and holds it in her lap. She taps the screen then looks up at me.
“Carrie?”
His voice echoes through the speaker system of the phone into the room, slicing through me. I glare at Delia.
“Delia, can she hear me?”
I know Delia sees the warning in my eyes. She ignores it. “Yes, she can.”
“Care, I know you can hear me, and I want you to know... I know.”
My heart hammers in my chest.
No.
It wasn’t possible.
“I know, Carrie. And you don’t have to do this.”
I press my lips together, trying to hold back the sobs even as the tears course freely down my face. Oh, if Cordelia could see me now. She thought she knew all my weaknesses. But she doesn’t know this one. Doesn’t know this man is arguably the biggest one of all.
“Tell Delia the truth.”
Delia’s face twists in confusion as she looks down at the phone in her hands then back up at me questioningly.
“Tell her the truth and then come home. Come home and we can fix this. I know you, and I know this isn’t what you want. Whatever it is that is holding you hostage, I promise you we can fix it together. Just trust me. Please, Care, just come—”
I grab the phone from Delia’s hands and end the call. Then I take out the battery and toss the pieces of the dismantled phone on the bed.
“What does he want you to tell me?”
I look up at Delia, her arms folded, eyes fixed on mine.
“Delia...”
“I’m not a child, Carrie. You can’t keep protecting me like I’m some little girl,” She frowns. “Tell me the truth. What is Dutch talking about?”
I sigh and turn back to the window. I might as well.
“You know how I never do the auctions? Well that’s because something happened the first and only time I did one and since then Cordelia and I have agreed that I never have to do one again.”
“Cordelia and you agreed?” Delia scoffs. “This is her biggest night of the year and you are her biggest asset. Why would she agree to that?”
“Because when I was nineteen, while I was with my client for the night, I was raped.”
Chapter 21
“How’s my ten-thousand-dollar girl?”
The hem to collar zip on the back of my silver and white evening gown slides smoothly over my curves, tucking the fabric close to me. I focus on the feeling of being fully clothed and ignore Cordelia as she sweeps into the room. Tessa is back again, adding another layer of red to my lips, slicking down a disobedient curl with some hair spray. I have been waxed, plucked, scrubbed and painted to perfection. All for this night. It reminds me of the way they prepare bodies for burial.
“She’s as ready as she’s gonna be,” Tessa mumbles, checking my hem for loose strings. “And I gotta say, Carina Bell has never looked better. Worth every dollar.”
I step down from the short pedestal and take my purse from the table. I turn to face Cordelia, looking her dead in the eye. I don’t know what I am looking for. Remorse? Compassion? Humanity?
There is nothing.
How can one human being be so devoid of emotion?
“Is it him?”
There is a crack in the veneer. So slight that if I hadn’t been staring right at her, I would have missed it. Her eyes shift away almost imperceptibly then slide back to meet mine as she takes a breath and forces a smile.
“It is.”
And there it is. My worst nightmare realized.
How could someone do this? How do you face the man that stole your innocence? Sit beside him in a limo. Let him speak to you, touch you, kiss you?
I don’t know. I have been trying not to think too far ahead; trying not to think about what will happen after the obligatory party. After he takes me back to his hotel. It will be bad, but I can handle it. I can handle him better than Delia could. I can do this so she won’t have to.
“Take this.”
I look down at the hand Cordelia offers. It holds two little blue pills. I take them and the glass of water she offers. This is all the mercy I will get from her. Valium and a look that tells me I better not mess up her money.
There is no further need for talk. The limo is waiting outside.
My heart hammers in my chest. The heels of my silver stilettos click against the marble floor. My legs feel heavy. The faintness in my head ebbs and flows like a current. I don’t think I will make it to the door, but I do. It opens for me, just as the limo door does. I slide inside and force myself to breathe through the panic that wraps around me. But I can’t. Sweat beads my forehead, dampens my armpits. My head pounds. My throat goes dry. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t keep the edges of my mind from pulling away from sanity.
“God, help me. I can’t do this.” Pain pulses through my fingertips as they grip the seat. “I can’t do this again. I want to help Delia, help her. But I can’t let that man touch me, not again. Please don’t make me live through this again, God. Please. If you are real, if you are there, I need you to be here now. Please, please.”
My throat aches from the hoarse cries. My cheek finds the coolness of the white leather seats. My mind says no more, and I sink into blackness.
* * *
Can you pass out from stress?
If yes, then I am sure this is what has happened to me. I miss the entire car ride and thus have no idea where I am and how far away I am from what is familiar. I only feel the insistent tug on my arm pulling me back into awareness.
I sit up slowly and realize I am no longer moving. The limo driver straightens and holds the door open before I can see his face.
When I don’t move, he clears his throat.
“I need a minute.”
“Miss, we’re already late and—”
“I said I need a minute.”
Without another word, the door closes. I slump back, take a breath and pull out a compact from my purse. A quick look at my face tells me the damage is not as bad as I thought it would be. A little concealer on my cheek and under my eyes and everything is as it was.
I glance out the window and catch a glimpse of the high columns of the mansion I have arrived at. From my position, I cannot see the full building, but from what I can see in the dark evening, it is impressive. Only I’m not impressed. I’m not even scared anymore. Just numb.
So much for prayers.
I knock on the glass and the driver opens the door. I step out, following the stream of light to the front doors. Music and the muted sounds of voices greet me as I enter the room. I pause for a moment to take it all in. My eyes sweep the crystal chandeliers, the wide double staircase trimmed in gold that leads up to the seco
nd floor and the open double doors between them that lead to the ballroom. I take my time entering the room. No use rushing to your doom. The sound of the five-piece band sets a merry tone to the evening. Everywhere there are smiles, chatter, laughter. The room is already filled with millions of dollars worth of designer gowns and suits. I know Amanda is here somewhere, and my guess is there might be more of Cordelia’s girls in the mix. Men who buy women tend to know each other and enjoy showing off their prizes. I head over to the bar and order a shot of vodka. The valium and alcohol are a bad combination, but honestly, I don’t care. I finish it in one go and wait. This is where I am supposed to wait. This is where he will find me.
“Miss Bell?”
I place the empty glass gently on the top of the bar and turn around slowly. The face looking at mine is not the one I expect.
“Your companion for the evening has asked me to escort you upstairs.”
I place my hand in the crook of his arm and allow the tuxedo-suited young man to lead me through the doors I had just entered and towards the staircase. He doesn’t speak to me or even look at me again and I am fine with that. The sounds of the party fade behind us as we climb the white marble staircase to the second floor. He turns left and leads me to the end of the hallway, opening the last door and ushering me in.
It is a large room. The high ceilings, gold trimmed crown moulding and lit chandelier match the elegant decor of the ballroom downstairs. But the grandeur is lost on me as my eyes scan past the eighteenth century artwork and antique wing chairs to the king sized canopy bed. My stomach drops, and I turn to the door to find my escort. But he is gone, the door closing softly after him.
Before I can step towards the door, I hear a creak and a whoosh of cold air. I turn around just in time to hear the balcony doors slide close and feel the air slide out of my lungs in shock.
“What are you doing here?”
He steps forward, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it on the wing chair. “I came here for you of course. After all, I did pay for your company for the evening.”
