Helltown - Jeremy Bates Page 0,63

a pretty good guess. She had seen the lustful look in Cleavon’s eyes while he’d been talking to them and pretending to be civilized. It had taken her back to her days as a masseuse in Daveo. At the end of each massage she would finish massaging her customer’s head, and she would say, “Finished, sir,” and he would open his eyes and look at her how Cleavon had looked at her and say, “How much for extra service?” and she would giggle and say, “No, sir, I don’t do that,” because that’s what they wanted to hear, and he would grin and say, “Come on, just a hand job,” and she would pretend to think about it and give an exorbitant amount like two thousand pesos, and sometimes the customer would pay no questions asked, or sometimes he would work her down to one hundred pesos, which was as low as she would go, and then she would jerk him off and, afterward, ask to use his bathroom to wash the semen off herself, and then she would collect her money, tell him to request her the next time he called her company, and she would wait out front his building for the driver on the Honda motorbike to arrive, who would take her back to the housing where she and the other massage girls lived, and she would try not to think about what she’d done, she would tell herself it was just to pay for nursing school, and she would do it all over again the next day.

Nevertheless, as much as Cherry had detested that period of her life, at least she had been in control then. She had been the one setting the rules. She had never agreed to intercourse, no matter how much money was offered. To this day she remained a virgin, and she vowed to uphold her chastity until she married. Austin had not been happy by this declaration, but he’d accepted it. Maybe he thought he could change her mind at some point, or maybe he wasn’t planning on sticking together with her for long enough for it to matter, but whatever the reason he had accepted it.

Now, however, Cherry was no longer in control. Now there were no rules, and that terrified her like nothing else, because if Earl or Cleavon or Floyd wanted to fuck her, they would fuck her, they would fuck her and take her virginity, and they would likely kill her when they were done and bury her body in a shallow hole somewhere.

Earl burped and scratched his groin. He reached into the cooler next to his recliner, retrieved a fresh beer, and twisted off the cap. Judging by the empty bottles on the floor next to him, this was his fifth one. Cherry didn’t think that would be enough to get him drunk. It would probably take ten or twelve to get someone his size drunk, maybe more than that. So it wasn’t likely he was going to pass out any time soon. It wasn’t going to be that easy to escape.

Cherry knew she needed to free her legs. If she could do that, she was confident she could outrun Earl. He was big and would have a large stride. But he was also fat, and she was confident she could escape.

He glanced at her suddenly. She squeezed her eyes shut. Too late. She heard him push out of the recliner, cross the room, the floorboards protesting beneath his girth.

“Hello?” he said, and she could almost feel his shadow looming over her. “Excuse me? Little girl, wake up. I know you’re awake, I saw your eyes, and they were open, so open them up again.”

She didn’t.

“Hey,” he said, angrier. “Did you hear me? I said open your eyes.” He kicked her in the side. He didn’t put much force behind it, but she had three or four broken ribs, and if felt as though he’d stuck her with a hot poker.

She cried out and opened her eyes and stared up at him.

“Hi,” he said, smiling.

“Hi,” she managed.

He sat down before her and crossed his legs. He smelled rancid, like he’d soiled himself two days ago and hadn’t gotten around to cleaning himself yet. He reached out a massive hand and patted the top of the head, the way you pat a dog.

He didn’t say anything. She didn’t either.

Then, abruptly, Cherry began to cry. She couldn’t help it.

“Hey,” he said, and he sounded alarmed, almost scared. “Don’t