Authors: Anna Lee
At ten past eight, Bailey honked the horn of her silver Audi TT outside my house. I grabbed my bag and skipped to the car, I wasn’t exactly excited about going to the bar tonight, but I was excited about not having to stay alone tonight in a possibly haunted house.
Bailey’s cousin was an entrepreneur of sorts. He started out by opening an exclusive club he named Brown Downtown, which offers a hangout for the wealthy who want to mingle with their own without the hassle of reporters or ‘average’ people bothering them. Then he dabbled in some not so legal business when he saw there was a demand from his clientele. In short, there are private rooms in the club that are strictly protected by massive bouncers, and require a special password to enter. From what Bailey and I can tell, there are beautiful women who come in and out of some of the rooms with clients (several of which I know for a fact are married), and then there are suits who go in as a group, likely conducting drug deals or insider trading. It was a protected place for privileged people. Gag.
We arrived at the antique art gallery that made up the street view cover for the bar. We slipped down the back hallway and proceeded to go through a series of doors, hallways, and elevators until we were greeted by the massive muscle who guards the thick, reinforced door. He looked to me like the meanest, scariest bouncer in the world. A thought of passing by him in a dark alley had me swallowing fear.
Bailey however, seemed completely immune to the menacing look and massive forearms crossing his chest. “Hey Bear, how’s it going?” she chirped.
He looked at her face closely and then uncrossed his arms. “Hey darlin,’ haven’t seen you here in a while.” I had imagined a growling, Neanderthal response, but instead was surprised to hear a soft, teddy bear voice. He had a very ‘be afraid of my Ogre side’ Shrek persona going on.
It shouldn’t have surprised me that Bailey was friends with a bouncer here. She had a habit of dating older guys, which I assumed came from some unconscious drive to rebel against her father. It never turned out well for her because the types of grown men who date teenage girls are never in it for a serious relationship.
“
So I took your advice and decided to hang with peps my own age for a while,” she announced.
“
Good,” he shook his head approvingly, “How’s that working for you?”
“
Really good actually, I have a great guy now,” she beamed.
Bear chuckled, “Well, you let me know if he steps out of line, you hear.”
“
Will do.” Bailey turned to me, “This is my best friend Lily. She and I are in need of some serious party time.”
I smiled at Bear. He nodded and warned, “You two stay close in there. It’s not a very good place for young girls, you know. And don’t go off alone with any strangers, you understand.” He cocked an eyebrow at Bailey until she sighed and conceded.
I nodded promptly when he turned that parental look on me.
When he opened the door, we were blasted with loud music and cigar smoke. I followed Bailey’s lead over to the bar and sat next to her on the only two empty seats left. She ordered two Jager Bombs as I scoped out the scene. Scantily dressed cocktail waitresses weaved in and out of groups of mingling people. The men mostly wore expensive suits or silk shirts while the women wore every type of dress or skirt under the sun, each one shorter and tighter than the last. Many of the wealthy men took their mistresses here, showing them off like prize cattle. Bailey once tried to convince me that if you squint at just the right angle, you can actually see the leashes they are being pulled around on. She was of course drunk at the time.
Bailey handed me the hefty shot, and we both tipped them up to start the night. A shiver worked its way down my body, a typical reaction when I drank liquor. Bailey let out a little
woop
and ordered up some cocktails for us to sip. I always let her pick out the drinks as I usually only drank wine and wouldn’t even know what to ask for.
I glanced at the bouncers guarding doors which held some sort of private business. “What do you think really goes on in there?” I asked.
She followed my gaze, “Bear says it’s the source of white collar crime and the city’s most expensive hookers.”
I wasn’t surprised. “These men could have so many different women, why sleep with hookers? Aren’t they worried about getting STDs?”
Bailey snorted, “Rich people don’t want what they already have.”
“
Huh,” I thought about that. It was hard to fathom how people who have everything still aren’t satisfied. It made me wonder if there was such a thing as satisfaction at all. My new life with Rose left me wanting nothing-except my parents back. I guess there is always room for wanting.
Before I knew it, I had finished my cocktail, put down two more shots with Bailey and started on another cocktail. I was feeling good,
really
good. Bailey hopped out of her seat and started letting the music pull her to the dance floor. She spun around, eyeing me with a devilish grin and hooking her finger in a gesture for me to join her. I shook my head and held up my drink. I wasn’t much of a dancer, and I wouldn’t be getting out there until I had a little more. She rolled her eyes playfully and continued on without me.
I watched her dance away her worries. She was a great person and a great friend, but for all she had, she hadn’t had a great life. With the loss of her mother, and enduring years of her father’s erratic parenting and fluctuating affection, she had it tough. Sometimes I think I’m the only normalcy in her life. I watched her spin around and move to the beat of music. She had her eyes closed and was smiling.
A hot breath caressed the back of my neck, “So where’s the boyfriend?”
I jerked around startled, “Jason! How did you get in here?”
“
I could ask the same of you,” he smirked.
“
I got in here because I came with Bailey. Who got you in here?” I asked.
“
Who says I didn’t get in here on my own?”
“
Right, you’ve only lived here for a couple of weeks and you just happen to know the right people to get into an exclusive club that few people know exist,” I challenged.
He just winked and ordered a scotch on the rocks. He took the stool next to me, like he owned it. Derrick slinked into a seat a few feet away. He took a swift glance at the crowd and then laid his intrusive eyes on me. I never got used to that skin crawling, hair standing on end feeling. I promptly looked away and did my best to ignore him.
“
Hitting the hard stuff huh?”
“
I have a high threshold for alcohol,” Jason shrugged.
I rolled my eyes.
“
You never answered my question,” he said as he sipped his drink.
I eyed him for a minute, “He’s out of town.”
“
Is he coming back?”
“
Why do you ask?”
“
Just wondering if you’re single,” he grinned.
“
He will be back soon. And no, I’m not single.”
He sipped his drink and eyed me over the rim of his glass for several minutes. He looked like he wanted to say something.
“
What?” I asked, no longer able to stand the heat of his gaze.
“
You should stay with him.”
“
What?” I was struck stupid.
“
You should stay with him,” he repeated.
He was sending some serious mixed messages. One minute I thought he was hitting on me, and the next he was urging me to stay with Michael, which made no sense considering Michael was urging me to stay away from him.
“
What happened between you two?” I asked bluntly.
“
What do you mean?” he asked.
“
You know exactly what I mean. I don’t believe for a second that the two of you don’t know each other,” I accused. I looked to Derrick for some ounce of affirmation. For the first time since I met them, he was looking anywhere but at me. Lovely.
Jason slanted his eyes in deep thought. I imagined he was recalling some event and pondering whether or not to tell me. “Please just tell me.”
“
Why don’t you ask him?” he suggested.
“
I’m asking you,” I countered.
He downed his second scotch, slammed the glass on the counter and stood up. Before he walked away he said, “Stay with him. He can protect you.”
I chill went down my spine, “Why would I need protecting?”
He and Derrick were gone before I could finish my sentence, swallowed up in the crowd. I gaped at the empty space beside me. Why did I need protecting? And from what?
Bailey plopped down on the stool beside me and brushed her slightly sweaty forehead. “I miss Eric,” she pouted.
I gave her a rueful smile and suggested, “Let’s get out of here.”
“
Let’s,” she seconded.
I came home the next morning with a slight hangover, nothing too serious, but a headache nonetheless. Ginger made blueberry muffins, which helped ease the sour feeling in my stomach.
“
I’m going to the store in a little bit, is there anything in particular you want me to get?” she asked.
“
I think I’m good. But thanks,” I waved as I headed up to my room.
Today would be a lazy day, I thought. I would sit around, maybe take a nap by the pool and use the least amount of brain cells possible. Yep, that sounded like a very good idea, considering the confusing array of events and emotions swimming in my head.
I twisted on my bikini, clipped my hair on top of my head, and headed outside. The pool was an irregular shape that someone undoubtedly had to design to fit in the small backyard. I found my chair and plopped down for a good long sun bathing session, hoping to land a few hours of naptime as well.
The sun felt warm and radiant on my skin. It was late October now and though it was still hot and sunny in Charleston, there wasn’t as much of the smothering humidity we have in the summer, which is almost unbearable.
I let the rays soak into my skin, and I breathed in deep breaths of fresh air until I fell into a sleep that could be characterized as more of a coma.
It felt like I had been out for days when I heard a voice coming from over the fence. “You look like you could use some company,” Mr. Manning drawled in that creepy, flirtatious voice I loathed.
I opened one eye and cupped my hand at my brow to block the sunlight. “I’m good thanks,” I said in a bored tone.
He persisted, “Maybe you need someone to put some suntan lotion on your back.” I detected a slight slur in his words. Great, he was drunk.
I decided to give him the silent treatment. Having a conversation with an intoxicated person is a moot effort.
“I bet being in that big house all alone must be lonely.”
More silence.
“
There is a lot I could show you. You will like it,” he promised in his spine-chilling pedophile voice.
Then I broke my vow of silence. “Where is your wife?” I accused.
“
I’m more interested in younger women,” he retorted.
“
Well, I’m not interested in old men,” I said.
Mr. Manning chuckled, “How do you know unless you try it?”
“
Not in a million years,” I concluded the conversation. Then I grabbed my towel, wrapped it around myself, and headed for the house. It sounded like he said something else, but I just ignored him and kept walking.
I slammed the back door harder than I expected and called to Ginger, “No worries, it’s just me.”
No answer. She must be at the market.
I dropped the towel in the laundry room and headed back toward the kitchen to get some water when I heard the last thing I wanted to hear. “You can run, but you can’t hiiiide,” slurred Mr. Manning’s disturbing voice…in my house!
I spun around quickly, eyes wide with shock. He actually had the audacity to come into our house uninvited. “Get out of here!”
He started laughing and came closer.
“I swear if you don’t leave, I will call the cops!” As I laid the threat in the air between us, butterflies buzzed around in my stomach, beating their wings with a violent fervor. The situation with Mr. Manning had just crossed a line of demarcation.
His face fell serious at the mention of the police. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he threatened. Then he chuckled, humor never making its way to his face. He gave a devious grin, “You know I punish bad little girls.” He reached his hand toward my face, and I jerked away. I walked a few steps back on shaking legs.
Don’t panic
. I just needed to buy a few minutes time, and Ginger would be back.
He continued his pursuit. “I don’t know why you’re playing hard to get. I know you want me to take you. The way you always dangle yourself in front of me, practically offering yourself on a silver platter.” He glanced down and took a long sweep over my bikini clad physique. I felt the air leave my lungs, and my body spike with fear. The fight or flight reflex was about to kick in, and I wasn’t a fighter.
He lunged toward me.
I tore away from him and into the living room, making a beeline for the front door. Only a few strides into it, I screamed as he grabbed a chunk of my hair and pulled me backward. I hit the floor, automatically reaching for the hair he had gripped in his fist. Tears burned my eyes as he continued to pull.