he killed Alison. And I have a stinking suspicion he did. Because in order to not even be sent to me for the four therapy sessions, he’d have to have—
“Aggravated assault. Accused of first-degree sexual assault, but got probation. Battery—”
“So the fucker wasn’t lying,” Heather interrupts Seth. When both our eyes meet hers, she explains, “We heard him boasting once that even if he were to fuck any of the girls and didn’t pay them, he wouldn’t be convicted of rape if they tried to accuse him, because he’d been tried before and only got his hand slapped. He said he was untouchable, that we should count ourselves lucky that he’s so generous and willing to pay us instead of just taking it like he’d done before.”
A shiver works up my spine, knowing I’ve heard… and read those words before.
So many of my patients have confided that their attackers said the same thing about not getting into trouble for what they do or did before. But one girl stands out in my mind, and my stomach feels hot as her face fills my mind.
Heather continues, “So we’ve learned just to get it over with when he picks one of us for the night. Especially when the last two or three girls who turned down his offer ended up… well, we thought they just lost their jobs, fired, but after Alison—” She shrugs. “—who knows if that’s what happened, or if they’re out in those woods somewhere? All we know is we want to keep this job. The pay is more than any of us girls could make anywhere else. So we do what he wants and take home the extra cash. All I’m saying is sweet little Astrid doesn’t know any of that shit. If she takes the dancing job and Randy wants her after Crystal tells him about the referral money, then—”
“She took the job.” I cut in, my vision tunneling. “When… when would Crystal tell Randy?” And as I ask the question, I’m praying he isn’t there tonight. Maybe he doesn’t work every night and he won’t be there to see my goddess dancing in the nightclub, looking like a fucking angel in the light-blue dress with her long, flowing blonde hair and silvery makeup. Because I know, I just fucking know, that any man who sees her like that, especially in her element, dancing and allowing the music to take over her perfect body, wouldn’t be able to resist her. There is no way he won’t want her.
“Oh, within the hour she dances, for sure. Crystal will go get him and point her out while Astrid’s in the nightclub doing the job, proof that she won the referral contest. Oh my God, you said she took the job? How—”
“She texted me. When will she start dancing?” I ask, opening the messages back up and sliding the texts to the side to see the time she sent the last one. “She said she was getting ready at 10:45. It’s 11:08 now.”
“She’s probably going to take the 11:30-12:30 hour. The working girls alternate throughout the night. Since we allow female customers into the nightclub section, it’s not like the men are just standing around dancing with each other—I mean, unless they’re gay. Our girls are there to keep the crowd pumped and dance with the men who haven’t paired off with the female customers,” she explains.
“I’ve got to go, Seth. I have to get her out of there,” I tell him, my voice only hinting at the panic I’m feeling in this moment. “A Secret is half an hour away. And she’ll be out there in twenty, and you know the second this motherfucker sees her—”
“Why our Quill girls gotta be so fucking hot?” he gripes, and he must hit the print button on the screen, because the printer comes to life inside the desk. “Printing the background check with his picture so we can spot him when we get there.” And a tiny bit of relief mixes with the swirling emotions inside me that I don’t even have to ask him for his help.
“Y’all are going to need some like… backup or something. There’s no way you’re getting through those doors without a membership. Only single females are allowed in without a member’s card,” Heather says, and Seth turns wicked eyes to me.
“Oh, we’ve got backup, sweetie. Don’t you worry about that,” he speaks to her as he winks at me.