Liquid Courage

by Hildred Billings

  Eat your heart out, Shari. Vivian thought that every time she saw the photo of her in her underwear on Kat’s nightstand.

  It stayed there long enough to be dusted many, many times, and only left its perch when they moved in together. Eventually, other photos joined those old boudoir portraits, but some memories refused to wither away.

  THE END

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  Hildred Billings is a Japanese and Religious Studies graduate who has spent her entire life knowing she would write for a living someday. She has lived in Japan a total of four times in four different locations, from the heights of the Japanese alps to the hectic Tokyo suburbs, with a life in Shikoku somewhere in there too. When she’s not writing, however, she spends most of her time talking about Asian pop music, cats, and bad 80’s fantasy movies with anyone who will listen…or not.

  Her writing centers around themes of redemption, sexuality, and death, sometimes all at once. Although she enjoys writing in the genre of fantasy the most, she strives to show as much reality as possible through her characters and situations, since she’s a furious realist herself.

  Currently, Hildred lives in Oregon with her girlfriend and dreams of a cat.

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  The following is an except from BOUND, the lesbian romance from Cynthia Dane & Hildred Billings, out now!

  Nature vs. Nurture Takes the Battle to the Boardroom - And to Natalie Chen.

  What’s the first thing they teach you in business school?

  Never let emotions decide your fate.

  That’s how people get hurt. That’s how millions lose their jobs.

  That’s how I almost lost everything. When I accepted one of the most highly coveted internships in America, I never expected to fall in love with my boss by the end of the first month.

  I never expected that my boss, Eric Mann, used to go by another name a long, long time ago. And the woman the world forgot is screaming to come out and speak of the atrocities once wrought upon her life.

  Do I follow my heart and help her expose her family’s deepest, darkest secrets to the world? Or do I follow my head and get as far as possible from this debacle?

  If I’m telling you this, we already know which path I chose.

  —

  The Ferrari sped down the center boulevard without regard for traffic or safety laws. Every time the teen driver whipped around the corner or sped through a yellow light, Erica threw her arms up and squealed as if this was the biggest adventure of her life.

  It was, in so many ways.

  “Look at you!” Tina, her date on that fantastic evening, shouted above the roar of the engine. “Acting like a fucking kid for once in your life!”

  Erica laughed. The only reason she didn’t fly out of the car when Tina slammed on the breaks was because she had enough brains to fasten her seatbelt. Not enough brains to consider this date a terrible decision, though.

  She had been eyeing Tina the young stud for many months. They met at one of Charles Mann’s many public functions, since Tina was the granddaughter of a local land developer who spent more time acquiring plots instead of wrangling his teenaged granddaughter. Tina had a reputation that preceded her, such as deflowering delicate debutantes in their own rooms and peddling marijuana for some quick cash. Not that she needed it.

  Of course, it was that reputation that attracted Erica, the young and sheltered daughter who was rarely allowed to be a daughter at all.

  She had snuck out of her family’s manor with the help of her friend and bodyguard-in-training Sherman. He signaled her when the change of the guard around the perimeter occurred, and he kept watch while Erica snuck out her in her little black dress. He did not, however, have any idea that Erica was about to steal her father’s priceless Ferrari and go out to enjoy the only prom she would ever have.

  Erica wasn’t allowed to go to school with other teens. Not even to boarding school, let alone the local private academies that catered to the wealthy. They had been good enough for her parents, but not for her.

  She was different.

  She was special.

  But not tonight. On that cool May night, when it was finally warm enough to speed around in a Ferrari without a jacket on, Erica embraced the part of her she rarely indulged in throughout her life. The side of her called Erica.

  Young. Reckless. Full of vigor (or was it piss and vinegar?) while determined to conquer every other young woman who would have her. Tina hadn’t been her first ever, but she had been the first in a car. They had taken two rounds to orgasm town before speeding through the city center around midnight, when the roads were empty save for a few cops who didn’t know what to make of them.

  “Fuck me up!” Erica cried. “I’m ready to do anything!”

  Tina took that as an invitation to pull into a parking garage and make out.

  The plan was to hit up a nightclub and pretend they really were at prom. Erica had seen boys and girls having prom nights in TV and in real life, and every time she saw girls in their dresses and boys in their suits she felt a pang that screamed to be normal for once in her isolated life. When she wasn’t studying her family’s business to take it over one day, she was confined to her family’s properties, like Rapunzel in her tower.

  Maybe making out with a young lesbian in an office building parking garage wasn’t romantic, but it was the thrill Erica desperately needed.

  It was over before it truly began.

  The police weren’t the ones to crash the party. That honor went to Erica’s security staff, who whipped into the garage and surrounded them as if they were wanted criminals about to meet their holy makers.

  Five men dressed head to toe in suits and sunglasses leaped out of their cars and brandished their cell phones and non-projectile weaponry. Erica’s heart leaped in her throat the moment she realized her father’s men had followed her and Tina to the depths of hell.

  That wasn’t what surprised her. Deep down, she had expected them to be on her tail the moment she sped off the property in the stolen Ferrari. That’s why she had enjoyed the chase for so long. The reason they drove so quickly through the night was because of Charles Mann and his team waiting to bring them down.

  No, what surprised her was the presence of her father. Charles Mann was the last to get out of a car. Young Sherman was right behind him, dressed in the same pair of jeans and T-shirt Erica had seen him in when she left. He hung his head in shame. The fucking snitch.

  “Eric!” Charles’ old and angry voice echoed in the parking garage. Tina broke away from Erica so quickly that the Ferrari shook. “Get your fucking ass out here, son!”

  “He mean you?” Tina asked.

  Erica refused to remove her seatbelt. Her long black hair was in the way, anyway. What if it got tangled up in the belt?

  “Get the fuck out here right now!”

  With any luck, that man would scream himself into a cardiac arrest. That’s what Erica consoled herself with when she finally undid the seatbelt and turned to look at her father.

  “Clean this up!” Charles stepped back while his bodyguards closed in on the Ferrari. “Get that girl out of here before her granddaddy finds out she’s cavorting with my walking disaster.”

  “Her granddaddy would probably appreciate knowing his little girl was out with your son,” the head of the security team muttered.

  “Get them out!”

  Tina didn’t put up much of a fight. Why would she, when she had n
o idea what the fuck was going on and had everything to lose? Sure, she acted tough for the girls she seduced, but in the end she was still a spoiled young woman who looked out for herself more than the girls she hooked up with in the back of stolen Ferraris. The moment a bodyguard opened the driver’s side door and tried to pull her out, Tina relented, raising her hands in the air and cooperating to the full extent her bodily autonomy afforded her. She was probably terrified of being charged with theft, even though Erica had been the one to steal the car.

  Erica, on the other hand, put up the fight of her life.

  She kicked so hard that one of her heels flew off her feet and smacked a guard in the face. He retaliated by putting both hands on her shoulders and yanking her torso halfway over the passenger side door while she screamed that he was assaulting her.

  “Sherman!” she shrieked, seeing the boy standing behind Charles. “What the fuck did you tell them! Sherman!”

  He looked away in shame. It didn’t help that Erica had gone commando for her big date, and every time the guards attempted to yank her out of the car her skirt rode up her waist and exposed her naked ass and freshly-waxed vulva.

  She didn’t care. They could all get a load of her pussy. They could all see the truth her father tried to declare otherwise.

  “Let me go!” Her screams roused the building security guards, but the moment they saw Charles’s credentials, they backed away and refused to get involved. “You can’t do this!” A guard flung her over his shoulder and hauled her, kicking and screaming, to her father. She landed with a hard thump to her ass. One of her fake nails broke off when she hit the concrete before her father’s feet. “How dare y…”

  Her father slapped her across the cheek. A deathly silence befell the once noisy parking garage.

  “You disgust me,” the old man croaked. Erica held her hand to her cheek, but said nothing. She was used to Daddy Dearest smacking her whenever she was out of line. None of the guards would stop him if he grew worse. Otherwise…

  Otherwise, twelve years ago would have never happened.

  “What kind of man are you!” Charles ripped the wig off Erica’s head, exposing the freshly cut hair that Tina had called envious when they first met. “You look like a fucking harlot! What is that on your face!”

  “Looks like makeup, sir.”

  Yes, makeup that Erica had spent a whole hour practicing. She didn’t get to wear it often. Nor did she get to wear the wig and dresses she hid in the back of her closet. Sometimes a maid tattled on what she stored, but for the most part, her Spartan collection remained untouched, and on quiet nights Erica would dress herself up in the most feminine guise she could concoct. It went from feeling like dress-up to a dirty secret.

  Other girls got to experiment with dresses and heels. Why couldn’t she?

  Because I’m not supposed to be this way.

  “Man the fuck up, Eric, before you get us all killed.” Charles motioned for Erica to be thrown into the back of his car. Erica was on the leather seat and hearing the door lock behind her before she had the chance to gouge the guard’s eyes out. Her father followed. Sherman sat across from them, head still down.

  “Snitch,” Erica snarled.

  “I’m sorry.” That was all he had to say for himself.

  “Cover yourself up.” Charles smacked Erica with his jacket. “I can’t stand to look at you like this.”

  “Like what?” Erica let the jacket drape across her lap, but refused to put it on. “Like your daughter?”

  “Don’t talk like that. I haven’t wasted the past ten years of my life making you into the perfect son for you to ruin it all in one fucking night.”

  “I never asked…”

  But this wasn’t about her stealing the Ferrari or even going out with a girl (although Tina was far from the kind of girl Charles would have approved of as a daughter-in-law.) Erica was meant for women. That was the only thing she and her father could agree on. Women were great. They inspired Erica’s libido like boys could not. Poor Sherman had tried to awkwardly ask her out more than once, and every time ended with him realizing it was never going to happen. Was that why he snitched on her?

  This was about something much deeper than that. Beyond teenager antics and looking like a “harlot.” Had Erica grown up in any kind of normal environment, this night might never have happened.

  “You’re my son, Eric,” Charles muttered after the car started. “And my son does not dress like this. He doesn’t act like this. He sure as hell doesn’t talk like this.”

  Erica remained silent.

  “Starting tomorrow, you’re heading back to the ranch to get a jump on your studies.” Ah, yes, the hell-hole Erica called home for most of the year. She had a reprieve to come home during the summer, when most of the people who would recognize her had left the city for the same season, but she hadn’t been home for one week before meeting Tina and watching everything go to hell. Now her father was sending her back to that ranch to resume her studies. If only that meant academic studies.

  No. It meant vocal training. Mannerisms. Sexual brainwashing.

  Twelve years before, Charles Mann decided that he needed a son to carry on his legacy. With only Erica to claim, he had done the unthinkable – he had taken his daughter and created a psychological monster.

  Three men escorted Erica into Mann Manor and up to her room. While she sat in despondent horror on the edge of her bed, the same three men went through every inch of her personal belongings, throwing out her stashes of makeup, tearing up her dresses, breaking her heels, and confiscating any jewelry Charles Mann would not want to see on his son.

  They left behind some nude magazines – but only because they featured women – and her sanitary supplies. Because nobody had figured out how to safely stop Erica Mann’s monthly bleeding. All they did was double-down on imprisoning her, lest anyone on the outside find out that the young Eric Mann, son of billionaire Charles Mann, had a different body than what everyone presumed.

  At least they hadn’t touched her body. They took away her name, her identity, and parts of her soul, but they had yet to butcher her body into something it was never meant to be. She figured it was only a matter of time. Hopefully the age of majority would arrive before her father got that bright idea.

  As for her mother? She stopped by once Erica was in her baggy T-shirt and sweatpants, crying on her bed.

  “It’s not so bad.” That’s what her mother always said. “Who wants to be a woman? You’re so lucky. I wish I had the chance to live life as a man. I was doing some research, and it turns out mastectomies and hysterectomies are safer than ever… and really, honey, you shouldn’t be going out with someone like Kingbald’s granddaughter. Such a nasty sort. We’ll find you a suitable, trustworthy wife to continue the family name one day. In the meantime, try to get some sleep. I’ll go with you to the ranch tomorrow. I’ve wanted some fresh country air in my lungs…”

  Erica pulled her pillow over her head and willed herself to die.

  A guard was posted outside her room – and outside her window, more than likely – but Sherman still managed to make his way in before curfew fully set on Mann Manor.

  “I’m really sorry,” he repeated, standing beside Erica’s bed but not touching her. “They threatened to beat me within an inch of my life if I didn’t tell them where you went. You know how close my mom is to another stroke already…”

  She didn’t want to hear his excuses. She wanted to float away on one of those clouds outside her barred window. Even a Heaven full of fallen angels would be better than this Hell on Earth.

  “It’ll be different one day,” Sherman insisted. “I’m gonna be your bodyguard one day, and I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

  “Time to go, Smith,” the guard outside the door said. “Leave him alone.”

  Him. Him.

  “I’ll see if they’ll let me go with you back to the ranch.” Sherman slowly made his way to the bedroom door. “Good night… Erica.”


  She waited until her door was latched shut before crying again. Sometimes it was worse hearing her real name from his lips.

  Because everyone was right. She had to stop living as someone she wasn’t. Someone she was never meant to be. That someone was a young woman named Erica.

  Erica died twelve years ago. There was a death certificate to prove it. Eric needed to let go and realize this was his destiny.

  It didn’t matter that his body said he was someone else. The papers were real. Those were tangible. Everything in his head was only that.

  I am Eric. I am a man. The sooner I accept that, the sooner my life can truly begin.

  Play the part. Enjoy the pageantry. Participate in a social construct that he never signed up for. That’s what Eric Mann needed to do. He needed to embrace the privilege the world offered him – all he had to do was hide his body and pretend that this was what he intended all along. That it was his choice to pass as a man and eschew every debate about nature vs. nurture.

  Meanwhile, Erica would die. That’s what the death certificate said, after all.

  Erica died so Eric could live and continue the family’s legacy. She died so he could suffer.

  Somewhere up in that Heaven of fallen angels was that lost soul that was neither Eric nor Erica. Just a child who suffered a terrible fate one day when it was much too young on Earth.

  Eric couldn’t imagine these two souls ever being reconciled. It would take a great and mighty force of the cosmos to right the wrongs that had transpired beneath the roof of Mann Manor and the evil that permeated every hall.

  A force that might come one day, but not soon enough. If it ever did, Erica might be so far gone in her identity as Eric that she didn’t know what was real any longer.

  She would need someone with an indestructible will to accomplish a Godlike miracle such as that.

  This has been an excerpt from BOUND. Get it now on Amazon!

  “LOVE, YUMI”

  An epic tale about one woman’s quest to save her best friend - and the love of her life - from the sordid, crazy, and unforgettable world that is the Japanese entertainment industry.