Page 73 of King

“I think so,” his voice intertwines with the melody.

“Breathe, find the beat and move with it,” I say. “When you do, it feels amazing.”

“You feel amazing,” I open my eyes to see Craig closer to me than I remember. He has this halo around his head and his pupils are massive. His hands are on my hips, one lowering while the other’s going higher. My skin feels like it's sparkling with every inch of his movement and I’m mesmerized by his gaze. His lips part, “Want to seal this deal gorgeous?”

“Craig,” is all I can manage to say before I shake my head, attempting to push him away. “You’re beautiful…but I—”

“You’re right,” he says. “This shit is great. Let me thank you for it, then the money’s all yours.” He’s moving closer and with the promise of money, I’m frozen in place, too many emotions swirling around my head, my body…

“Well if it isn’t Craig Carson.” Damien’s voice startles me.

It seems to startle Craig too because he lets go of my waist and I tumble back.

Damien's hands are in his pocket and while he looks calm, I’ve been around him enough to know better. He eyes Craig with narrow eyes. “Didn’t take you for a date-rapist."

“I didn’t rape her!” He backs away before looking around, but the patio’s empty. Craig lowers his voice, “She sold me drugs.”

“Which you then used to manipulate her into whatever pathetic attempt this is,” Damien gestures towards us like he’s swirling a glass of wine.

“What are you even doing here King?” Craig stands up straight, approaching Damien. “Mad your girlfriend rather get high with me than trot around with you in your excuse for a kingdom?”

“Unless you want your father’s campaign fucked to shit you need to pay her and tend to your party.” Damien squares up with him. “A video of his son fucked on MDMA while he hits on a slut from The Grove would look great on the campaign trail.”

Craig stares Damien down, hesitating before he reaches into his pocket, throwing a wad of cash at me. It hits my chest before falling to the floor, money clip keeping it together. “Whatever man. This shit isn't worth it."

When Craig heads inside, Damien starts walking away without another look at me. I call out, “Hey, wait.”

Isaac’s Range Rover is at the top of the driveway now but I’m too slow to catch up to Damien. He gets into the front seat and I reach to get inside, but the door doesn’t open. I knock on the glass but his front window comes down instead, Damien’s eyes glaring at me.

“What are you doing?” I pull on the door again. “Let me in. I made the drop.”

“After you got high and whored yourself out for it,” there's disgust in Damien's voice and it rips through my stomach.

“I had to take it!” My fist hits the window. “He wouldn’t have bought it otherwise!”

“Why don’t you walk home and take that stroll to figure out how to be smarter next time.” He rolls the window up and I slam on it again but it’s no use.

They’re driving away.

Twenty-One

Damien King disappoints again.

I’m walking down a dirt road, shoes in my hand, gravel digging into my feet. The moonlight guides my solo night walk, chill keeping goosebumps on my arms.

I waited for Damien to come back. When he didn’t, I tried to get back inside the mansion to use a phone, but Craig was way too pissed to help.

So I rolled around the grass, waiting for the initial peak to wear off. When Damien still didn’t show up, I decided it was time to walk.

I don’t know who I’m mad at— Damien for putting me in this situation or myself for agreeing to it. What did it all get me? Alone in Ancaster on a chilly night while I battle a molly high.

At least Isaac is honest. This isn’t the stuff from The Grove. I’ve been high for hours and I’m still buzzing.

The crunch of a twig comes from ahead, headlights appearing in front of me. I haven’t seen a car in ages so I take my chances and stick out my thumb.

When I see the moonlight reflect off the chrome paint, I’m sorry I did.

Damien’s Lamborghini slows, window rolling down with it. “Get in,” he says.

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