becomes as ingrained in your head as your own name. He will not tolerate liars. Not ever. Do you understand?”
I nodded because what was there to misconstrue?
“An education is important,” she continued. “A priceless gift that others die for.”
Finding my courage, I asked, “He knows I dropped out?”
“He knows you were,” she lifted her hands to make air quotes, “homeschooled.”
“That’s really embarrassing,” I muttered.
“No, embarrassing would be having this opportunity and then turning it down because of stupid pride. Men throw away their lives for pride. Women are smarter.”
She has a point.
I focused on the excitement that flowed through me, allowing it to dim some of the shame. I’d always told myself I’d go back for my GED. Getting a tutor meant I wouldn’t have to wait.
My stomach loosened enough that I could eat a spoonful of the amazingly creamy soup. Then another. And a bunch more until the bowl was empty.
Only after I was full to bursting did Ms. Vera speak again, her expression somber. “Mr. Maximo is trusting you to work with the tutor in the dining room.”
“I won’t do anything stupid,” I vowed truthfully.
I’m not interested in a painful death in the scalding sunlight.
She gave a single nod. “The tutor owes Mr. Maximo a large sum of money. He’s agreed to work with you to settle those debts. He will not rescue you. He will not go to the cops. He knows you’re not here by choice, and he does not care. He cares about himself and staying alive.”
But I am here by choice now.
Wait, what?
Shut up, brain.
Keeping that insane thought to myself, I repeated, “I won’t do anything stupid.”
“If, for some reason, he tries to help you, he’ll be dealt with and so will you, sweet girl. Last week will seem like a vacation by comparison.”
With that ominous warning, she grabbed my tray and left.
_______________
Ms. Vera was only gone for a half hour before she returned, carrying a canvas tote.
“What’s up?” I asked, surprised to see her so soon. Usually she only came at mealtimes.
“I said you had plans this afternoon.” She reached into the bag and tossed me something.
I looked down to see what I’d caught.
A razor.
Well, it has been a while since I’ve been able to shave, but I don’t think it’ll take all afternoon.
She pulled something else out.
A pretty mauve two-piece.
“I can go outside?” I asked. “I can go swimming?”
She nodded and handed me the suit, plus a pair of flip-flops and a coverup. “Go change.”
Don’t gotta tell me twice.
I rushed into the bathroom and stripped down. Sitting on the side of the tub, I shaved my legs as quickly as I could without nicking myself and bleeding out just as I was about to get a taste of freedom. I pulled on the bottoms and ran my fingers along the scalloped edge. The top had the same detailing on its square neckline.
I’d have gone out in my underwear or a garbage bag if it meant swimming, but it was still nice to wear something so cute.
Throwing on the coverup and sliding on the flip-flops, I literally ran back into the sitting room. “Ready.”
She gestured for me to spin around. “Sunblock.”
“Good idea.”
My painful sunburn from my failed escape was not an experience I was jonesing to repeat. Nor was the itching, disgusting peeling that’d followed.
Ms. Vera rubbed the coconut-scented lotion into my back before handing me the bottle to do the rest. I was just finishing turning myself into a human piña colada when no-longer-ignoring-me goon—or Cole, as I’d learned—opened the door.
He’d stopped glaring and had started half-smiling at me, so I’d taken that to mean he’d forgiven me for the room fiasco. Even glaring goon—or Marco—had warmed up to just ignoring me.
Progress all around.
Since Cole had ditched his suit for slacks and a tee, I wasn’t surprised when he followed Ms. Vera and me.
The only time I’d been in the hallway, I’d been drugged, high on pain meds, or running for my life. Since I was awake and not fleeing at top speed, my eyes darted all around, trying to take in everything at once.
There was beautiful Vegas themed art and photography on the light-gray walls. The plush carpet was white and shockingly spotless.
And there were doors. Twelve doors.
Who has twelve doors in their upstairs alone?
Two of them had weird locks that looked like something from a spy movie.
Intriguing.
I looked over my shoulder to see my room had one, too.
Are there other people held here?
No, I’d have heard.
Right?
After going downstairs, we turned