“What?”
“I didn’t pay to send you out there to take a damn vacation.”
“I thought it was to write my book.” I look for a place to sit because my legs aren’t going to hold me.
“You can write whatever you want, but I want dirt on Alex Craig. I think you can figure out what happens if you fail.”
The pictures of me being abused get released. I hate this man. The guilt comes rushing in. He was the one who searched for me in California. He was the one who got me free. But he’s the one who’s holding explicit photos over my head, pressuring me to take down a man who’s supposed to be terrible but has been nothing but nice, loving even. I don’t know what happened ten years ago, but Alyss never accused Alex of ruining her life, only said it was the worst day of her life. Was that because of Alex or MD?
“You’re gonna owe me for all the expenses, the plane flight, the Sunflower, all of it if you don’t deliver.”
Without a job, there’s no way I can pay my uncle back. He’d have to sue me, but that would create more bad blood in the family and Alyss and I barely speak now. “I’ll keep trying, but he hasn’t done anything wrong. Won’t do anything wrong. I called Alyss. She didn’t want to say what happened.”
“It was a traumatic event for her. She probably got some PTSDs or something from it. Or she’s lying because she don’t want to tell you about it. I bet she’d remember quick if I told her you were living with him.”
My steps falter. He wouldn’t. Except he would. I don’t have a lot of family. Even though we’ve drifted apart, Alyss is my cousin, was my best friend. The fact I can always call her is a safety net. My aunt too. I have a place to go for a holiday if I wanted to. He could easily break my relationship with them. No more quickly than Alyss finding out I slept with her old boyfriend. How did I get myself into this?
An offer I couldn’t refuse and a threat I can’t avoid. Pictures of me being forced to do?—
My throat tightens and bile rises up from my guts.
They can never be made public. I wouldn’t know how to live if that happened.
“I did find out he was living in St. Louis before this.” Guilt washes over me as soon as the words leave my lips.
“That’s good. I can search the records there. But I need more. He’s got to be caught red handed, get that predator off the streets.”
If I do this am I the monster or is he? “I’ll be able to get what you need if you give me more time.”
“How much?”
I don’t know. Forever? Never? “A month?”
He barks a bitter laugh.
“Two weeks. Their new club is opening and I’ll be able to make something happen by then. I promise.” Like find a way out of this?
“You better get me some proof or these pictures are going to find their way to your momma, your boss, and everyone on the internet.” He ends the call.
In my email, there’s a new message. I open it with shaking hands. The attachment is slow to load. But when it does, I have look away and fight to keep my lunch down. I’m not sure whose dick is shoved down my mouth. Their face isn’t visible, but mine is. The tears, the mussed hair, the runny makeup aren’t enough to conceal my identity. There’s a second attachment, but I can’t open it.
The walk back to the inn is dreadful, each step taking me closer to a task I never should have agreed to and there is escape from. Unless I want to be ruined forever, never able to get a job because those images will be on the internet and associated with my name. Unless I want to give up any connection to what little remains of my family, I have to find away to catch Alex being the predator my uncle swears he is.
I’ll hate myself for doing it, but self-preservation motivates me. The invitations to the soft opening were printed and sent. A few remain. My uncle’s address, Alyss’s childhood address comes to mind without effort from all the letters we mailed back and forth growing up. The black ink stark on the white envelope. If I send this, there’s no going back, but at least he’ll have the proof that I wasn’t lying about the club. He’ll know I’m trying. And maybe that will buy me some time and keep him from destroying me with photographic evidence of a situation I can never forget. Images that will make me more famous than any book I could ever write.
I’m exhausted and sick to my stomach. I drag myself up to my room and fall down on the bed too tired to even cry.
Sixteen
ALEX
A tap, tap, tap at my door rouses me from the almost sleep I’d fallen into. Every muscle aches as I drag myself from my bed. There’s a week until the opening. I’m working every hour I can to try to finish along with Gabe and all the subs. We’re so close.
I open the door.
SJ.
My body comes alive as if I’ve been on vacation and slept ten hours.
