goes, no matter what. But I also know that those are the times I really have to listen to him.
“I’ll get Stormi and we’ll all go together,” Ace says. “Come on, she’s already waiting for us. She really wants to see Brenda, so you’ll be doing her a favor and making it all easier in one fell swoop.”
This time he is being a little sarcastic, but Blaze is still gripping my arm and looking pointedly into my eyes, silently demanding that I agree.
“Fine,” I say and shake his arm off. “But it’s on you if my presence there starts something.”
“No, it’s not,” Blaze says. “You’ll make sure of it.”
I hate it, but he’s right. I’m not gonna put any of them in danger, not for helping me.
As I follow Ace and Blaze onto the highway and then along a winding road to a residential area overlooking Vegas, I’m still not sure I’m not gonna just speed off and go on my own. It’s not until we pull up in front of a two-story house with a small, neatly trimmed front lawn, and a long-legged blonde whoops and runs into Ace’s arms that I understand I’m not gonna do that. I look away as he lifts her us and she wrapping her legs tight around his waist while they kiss like the world is ending. A very pale woman with short white hair is standing by the porch railing of the house Stormi flew out of. She looks like a ghost, but a friendly one, given how serenely she’s smiling at Stormi and Ace. Blaze must be thinking he’s watching a ghost too, seeing as he can’t tear his eyes off her. He’s always been the superstitious type, and I’m fully expecting him to turn to me and say something about bad omens and such that seeing ghosts brings, but he’s very silent and has trouble looking away from the pale woman even after Stormi and Ace are ready to leave. She noticed him, waved, and smiled, and that could be why he’s walking like he’s half asleep. I’ve never seen him react to a woman like that. Ever. But it’s probably just something to do with his stupid superstitions he’s always so full of, and I’m sure he’ll snap out of it before we get to the Kings’ clubhouse. And Brenda. I might not even say anything to her. I might just kiss her first. She can send me to hell all she wants after I get one last kiss. That sounds like a very good idea to me right now, so it’s a good thing the others are with me to prevent it.
Brenda
The door is locked, but the window opens. The only trouble there is that it’s three stories up. But I’ll jump before I get taken to the truck stop whorehouse. Monarch owns at least three of those in and around Vegas. The first thing any club girl learns about is those, and that she’ll end up in one of them if she so much as puts a toe of line. Being Monarch’s mistress and cheating on him qualifies as that.
But I’m still alive, still mostly unharmed, and Monarch seems to want to believe my story. I just need to get out of this room for long enough to make a run for it. I just need that little chance.
I’ve been able to walk pretty steadily all day and the lump on my forehead is only the size of a quail’s egg now, no longer the potato it was. A huge bruise is spreading from it down across my left eyes, and along my nose almost to my lips. But make-up will fix that. The vision in my left eye is almost back to normal, with only a little fuzziness at the edges of my vision back. A few more days and I’ll be able to run. For now, I gotta focus on getting myself to the start line.
My side of the huge, cherry wood closet that takes up an entire wall of Monarch’s bedroom is still filled with my clothes and shoes. Some of the shoes are missing heels and are otherwise shredded like a young dog got to them, and some of my clothes are ripped up and ruined, but it’s all neatly folded, hung up, or stored pretty much how I left it. Decidedly odd.
My makeup drawer in the bathroom is in a similar shape. Mirrors, eye shadows, and powders cracked, yet neatly placed one