“You too, Marquees.”
We hang up, and I think of the endearment he just gave me.
Belle. When we first met, his wife called me that because she thought I looked like Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Although I’m nothing like her, I was flattered. The reference, however, was too pure for a woman like me.
My life has been more like Alice’s, except instead of going to Wonderland, I ended up in the infernal flames of Hell. I just kept going deeper, falling from one circle of Hell to the next. Now I worry about what will happen to me by the time I reach the bottom.
I look at the wooden beams in the ceiling and laugh, sounding like a crazy person. Or like when I was high on crack.
I’m laughing at myself. What the fuck makes me think I haven’t reached the bottom circle of Hell yet?
There’s nothing funny about the shit I’ve landed myself in. From where I’m standing, everything that’s happened so far sure looks like what I imagined the bottom of Hell to look like. It’s just that I was inclined to think Jake was the devil.
But no… the devil is me. I destroyed myself.
Maybe up until the point where I sold my body to Club Montage, people could feel sorry for me.
When I started working there, I never told anyone. The embarrassment of what sent me there was bad enough, but working in a place like that, seemed like I was becoming the whore I had been called when Mom died.
After the debt I landed myself in, it was the only place I could find that would get me the kind of money I needed to pay off the drug dealers I was foolish enough to owe. That’s what happened to me. Drugs.
The same drugs Marquees sent me to rehab to kick.
Up until two weeks ago, he didn’t know I was lying about where I worked, and he never knew I fucked myself over with one relapse.
Just one. That was all it took to start this chain reaction that ended up with Scarlett dead.
I relapsed when I saw Ted Nicholson—the monster, a.k.a. my former stepfather, and current Governor of New York, featured in People Magazine’s special edition as their Man of the Year after winning an award for his hard work with the homeless young women in the city.
Seeing the article was like a kick in the face. That man singlehandedly destroyed my life beyond repair and eradicated all my dreams.
I’d been clean for three years, but I was back in my dealer’s lair that same evening.
I foolishly fell into the trap they wanted to ensnare me in, and I owed them. Then I owed some more when I lost the job. When you owe people like them, they put on whatever interest they feel is appropriate. So, five grand became twenty, and when I couldn’t pay, it turned into thirty. As the days went by, they added a grand a day. When it turned into sixty and the threat of my life hung in the balance, I found Club Montage.
That’s how I met Jake.
Jake owned the club with a guy called Cassius Dent. I’ve worked there for a little over a month. When you work at Club Montage, they own you. When you’re a poor, unfortunate soul like me, earning nearly two grand a night to save your life sounds like a good deal. Except, given my past, it felt like the final nail in the coffin which buried the girl I used to be.
So, I promised myself that if I became their slave, I’d want something for myself in the end. Not just to get out of trouble. I promised myself I’d use the money I earned after my debt was paid to go back to school and get back on the path I was supposed to be on.
Then this happened, and I have no one here to turn to. Dad is always going to be out of the picture.
Although Scarlett’s body is still in Monte Carlo, he will have known what happened by now.
He must be going crazy and probably cursing me to death now too.
Dad and I haven’t spoken in eight long years. I wish I could gather the courage to go and see him and apologize for my part in Scarlett’s death, but I can’t.
Feeling the way I do, I don’t think I could look him in the eye and tell him how it’s my fault his daughter got killed by a monster I wasn’t supposed to know.
I move to sit on the bed, but I stop in my tracks when I hear that noise again. God, I can hear something. It’s a … shuffling sound.
This time I’m sure it’s coming from downstairs.
What should I do?
Fuck, it’s not like I can stay up here and wait. And wait for what? I need to check the place out and see what the noise is.