Page 5 of Red

I knew that the odds of my query standing out in the herd of eager twenty somethings that tried to sell that they were sexual, wild, and a little reckless (but not so much so that they couldn’t be trusted with Hush’s exclusive members identities), were not in my favor. “I’m pretty lucky.”

“Uh huh,” she winked a brown eye at me. “I’m still in shock actually. The chick who can’t even handle the steamy scenes of Grey’s Anatomy and can hardly say the word ‘sex’ out loud is interviewing at a club where actual sex happens? And not just sex. Kinky sex. It just doesn’t-” Her rapid-fire assessment was doused with water, like a different perspective had smacked her in the face. “Wait, is this for work? Some sort of behind the scenes story?”

“Uh, no, er...” I coughed and it was the fakest thing I’d ever heard. I hope your acting skills improve before the interview, or you’re screwed. “It’s not for work,” I finished, giving it another shot by ignoring her incredulous expression. Usually, I’d blanch in less than five seconds. Lindsay had the best BS detector that I’d ever seen. This time, I dug deep and cleared my face of all tell-tale indications that she’d hit the nail on the head. “The pay is good. Great, considering it’s $20 an hour, plus tips.” I decided to give her a little bit of the truth. “And to be honest, I’m curious.”

She dropped her frown. “Curious?”

I nodded slowly, turning back to the bed. I picked up the black dress. “Curious about what it would be like to watch someone let go.” I held the dress to my body and bit my lip. “To see parts of someone that no one else gets to see.”

This time she came to me, putting both hands on my shoulders. I knew I’d said the right words because that flirty, happy go lucky energy in her gaze hardened to ice. “You’re preaching to the choir. I get it better than most.” Like she could sense we were getting to a place that she didn’t dare venture, she carved a smile onto her face. “Enough of that. Good vibes only!”

She got no argument from me. The dress wasn’t nearly as nightmarish as I thought it would be to put on. The slinky, black fabric clung to my body like it was made for me, rounding my breasts, gliding over my hips, and stopping a few inches shy of showing parts of me that very few people had seen. The combat boots added an extra sprinkle of badass and Lindsay did my makeup, creating a smoky eye effect and coloring my lips strawberry red.

After a smack on the butt for good luck, I said goodbye and hailed a cab.

“Cash only,” the driver barked after his eyes swept over my dress.

I peered at the clearly operational card reader mounted on the seat in front of me and decided to try sweetness instead of flipping him the bird. “It’s cool, I have cash.”

He muttered something that sounded like ‘I bet’ and pulled away from the curb before I had a chance to change my mind.

The cabbie and I were clearly not on speaking terms, so I leaned back and closed my eyes. My mind wasn't a more friendly place. It ran me through a sea of disappointments. The first was that the interviewer would take one look at me and laugh. The second was that I'd get one foot through the door before an alarm went off, screeching that I worked for The Dish and wasn't to be trusted. The third didn't even allow me close enough to be disappointed; it whispered that the address was fake, and this whole thing was complete BS.

I pried my eyes back open, the last thought disconcerting enough to put me back in gear. I pressed the button on my phone to rouse it awake and brought up my camera. The woman staring back at me wasn't Sophia Slater. She couldn't be. The workaholic who put her nose to the grindstone because she wanted someone, anyone, to notice that she had something to offer, wouldn't get the job. This woman, this pink haired, lipsticked, take-no-prisoners vixen didn't have to worry about being noticed.

A devious smile crept across my face. The scheduling email said that all the hostesses and hosts used a nickname. Hush was about escape. Fantasy.

I knew what my name would be.

Sin.

Under normal circumstances, the drama and over the topness of that name would be enough to make me blush. But it seemed perfect. The guilt that was hidden inside that word was suddenly empowering. Sins were something you did in secret, when you were doing something you weren't supposed to be doing. I'd hide all my insecurities behind that word and let my eyes do the talking.

I glanced out the window, my heart quickening in my chest as I watched the city change. The buildings were no longer concrete and brick and brutal. They were grand, like someone swept in with a bottomless bank account and a vision to make every building from the bank to the cafe to the brand new apartments more grand than the last. In the daytime, I pictured socialites strolling down the sidewalk like they were on a catwalk, businessmen modeling the latest Tom Ford with shiny watches and gadgets, and moms wearimg their perfectly coordinated yoga getups, pushing the most expensive strollers on the market. The cityscape gave way to suburbia, well, suburbia if money was no object. Everything was manicured and polished and glittering. Every community we passed was gated and there wasn't a bus stop or person that didn't look like they belonged in sight. It was eerie, like there was some invisible force field that separated 'us' from 'them'. A pristine sanctuary...for those who could afford it.

As we climbed the hills, headed into the most affluent neighborhood in this zip code, I couldn't help but feel anxious. In the city, I could shrug off my dress off as going out on the town, but this was residential. The cabbie looked just as wary, eyes flickering from the windshield to me.

My nervousness must have been crystal clear because when he spoke, the edge that cut when I'd first climbed into the cab was dull. Almost non existent.

"You sure this address is right?"

I knew it was, but I looked down at the address again and repeated it. "Yeah, that's the address." I said a silent prayer that he wouldn't ask me what I was doing in this neighborhood. My outfit made a certain answer all but certain.

We pulled off of the main strip, the cab coming to a hard stop when we hit a wrought iron gate and a keypad. There was no security guard, no camera, just a security light beaming down on the control panel.

"Somebody gonna buzz us in?" His eyebrows rose expectantly.

I gave him the four digit code, a code I'd expected I would use to enter a secure building, not some residential neighborhood in the Hills. As the dark gate crept open, I realized that this place wasn't a ritzy community lined with mansions and tennis courts and infinity pools. There was only a singular road that stretched into the unknown. I couldn't see anything past his headlights.

I gripped my seatbelt, realizing I hadn't even entertained this scenario, where some chainsaw wielding ax murderer would spring out of the shadows and-

"Whoa." The cabbie and I gasped in unison when the glow of street lamps appeared, illuminating the path. Ahead of us, a separate guard shack stood sentry above a mansion that looked like it was pulled out of a scene where the villains plotted world domination. I pretended like I wasn’t having doubts about this whole thing. This could quickly become a different kind of movie. Instead of scantily clad women gyrating in fountains and rooms filled to the brim with people having sex, it could be a front for sex trafficking or worse.

When I glanced at the wide eyed cabbie, it was pretty clear we were on the same wavelength. I had a choice, run with it, or make a Uturn.

I handed the driver my fare and pushed out of the cab. There were two men standing at the shack, equally muscled and clearly immune to any charm.

“Name,” the first one barked, his blonde hair buzzed military short.

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