Page 5 of King

Following the sound, I make my way down the clean, white hallway. I pass a gold chandelier and obscure large paintings before spotting a head of thick brown hair. She’s pressed against the wall, shoulders hunched in a new hoodie that's way too big for her small frame.

A smile pulls at my lips, “And what are you up to?”

Willow’s body stiffens before she turns around, chest dropping when her big brown eyes meet mine. She looks like our dad, narrow nose and high sandy cheeks. It breaks my heart, but it makes me smile.

Waving me over, Willow brings a brown finger to her lips. I take my time moving towards her on the hardwood floor, not wanting to blow whatever cover she has. When I get to where she stands, I peer above her head, running a hand through her straightened strands. She’s a few years younger but she’s catching up to me in height, and at five-eight, I'm not a short girl.

Willow points her chin towards the large white doors of the master bedroom. One is open, giving us a clear view of our new foster parents’ enormous bed.

I cover my mouth so I don’t say anything more, my eyes going wide. The faint sound of a squeaky spring gets louder in my ears as my eyes zero in on Eric Archibald’s hairy white ass. Tightening my lips, I hold in a snort. His ass bounces up and down with red on his saggy cheeks and I can’t look away.

A sputter of a laugh escapes my hold and Willow hushes me again. Out of morbid curiosity, I move closer, keeping my head against the space above my sister.

“Yeah, you like that?” Eric’s voice is low and grunty, but I can still make out every word.

I wince. Moans and groans confirming the vision scarring my eyes. A splay of blonde hair lays under my new foster dad and I’m happy I can’t make out his wife Nancy.

“Fuck me, Eric!”

Willow's head turns to me, a hand over her mouth, eyes like donuts.

“No way!” I gasp, both of us turning our attention back to Eric’s performance.

That didn’t sound like the Nancy Archibald we met last night, but the voice is familiar.

I cover Willow’s eyes. She’s fourteen and already well-informed on the birds and the bees but this is something no one deserves to see.

The woman sits up, and that’s when I see it’s Eric’s assistant Holly. She’d come to pick us up at the train station alone last night, but I didn’t know how dedicated she was to her job. A snort escapes my nose when I realize how cliche this all already is.

Her baby blues land on us before her lids expand, “Shit!” She gives Eric a bop on the head before he stops moving his wrinkling hips.

Willow scurries away, her old Nikes squeaking against the wood. Eric’s head turns towards the door, dark blue eyes locking with mine.

“Fuck.” I push off the wall, speedwalking to the stairs, my sister already out of sight.

I hear the sound of cursing and the tinkling of a buckling belt behind me before a warm grip lands on my wrist. With a tug, I’ve spun around, the scowling face of Eric Archibald taking over my view.

His red face is sweaty, eyes narrow, chest heaving. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I wince, jerking my head back. His breath smells like pussy and coffee, and his grip is only getting tighter. He’s angry, but when aren’t they?

I pull against his hold but he doesn't let go. “Next time try closing the door when you want to get off with your assistant.”

Eric’s glossy blues go wide and before I know it, his sweaty hand wraps around my throat, my feet lifting off the ground. His hold is tight, and I’m already gasping for air when my back hits the wall.

“Listen, kid,” he growls, lifting me by the neck until I’m at his eye level. I’m tall but he’s taller, my feet dangling below me. “I’m trying to make your life easier so why don’t you do the same for me huh?”

I smirk. It’s all I can do considering the irony of his statement, his chunky hand cutting off my air supply. It’s enough to get him to loosen his grip, my boots landing on the floor with a thud. I straighten my shirt before I turn towards the stairs. The best thing to do right now is to get away. I’ve come toe-to-toe with physical abusers before and there’s usually no sense in fighting.

When my hand hits the railing, the other on my throat, he calls from behind me, “Wait a minute. Since you have so much time on your hands, I got you a job at Cindy Huang’s Cafe.”

I’m unsure if that’s the name of the shop or the owner but I take a look around the space before I ask my next question. Everything glistens, halls smelling like Lysol. Turning around I eye him up, his slacks wrinkled, chest as hairy as his face and ass. I raise an eyebrow. “Really? You want me to work?”

“Oh,” he smiles a smile that’s far from friendly. Wiping at his nose, he takes a step further. “You think all this is yours? You’re eighteen in what, a year? Better get a head start on fending for yourself. I didn’t wipe that filthy criminal record of yours for nothing.”

I roll my eyes and turn around. While the idea of working at some posh cafe makes me want to turn my skin inside out, making money in Eden isn’t a bad idea. I’m going to need all the money I can get my hands on if I’m going to try to take custody of Willow after my birthday. Paying rent and bills is one thing. Affording a lawyer is another.

“Oh yeah and Joelle?" he calls again, voice taught and low.

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