Page 37 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

Keaton: U don’t have to be around me. But we could keep our deal if you’d agree to stop using.

Before I can respond, another text message comes through.

Keaton: And don’t even think about lying. I saw your eyes.

Fuck. I squeeze my phone in my hand. I don’t have a response for that, that’s not a lie, so I exit out of the conversation. I go pay my bill so I can sit in my car and wait for the signal that one of Seven’s is around.

My BMW eases down the road that leads into the Pierce Apartments. This is a neighborhood of Lumberton that you only enter because either you’re forced to live here or you’re looking for trouble. I guess I’m looking for trouble.

A brand-new pickup sticks out amongst all the bicycles and old rust buckets. I immediately recognize the guy from the fair standing next to it. I park my car and wait to see if he’ll approach my vehicle. I fidget in my seat as I restlessly chew on my nail. When I see that he isn’t going to make the first move, I shut off my car and get out.

In a display of far more confidence than I possess, I march up to the guy. “Nine, isn’t it?”

“Glad to see I made an impression, princess. Need the same or wanting something more?” His hungry eyes rake up my body.

Two more guys emerge from behind the truck. Their shoes are barely held together and their clothing has holes that are not intended to be there. Nine chuckles. “Don’t be scared of them. I won’t let anyone hurt you, princess. Why don’t you come sit in my truck and we can talk business? Would that make you feel better?”

Two other guys come walking down the sidewalk. My skin begins to crawl, so I agree. The expensive leather smells and feels amazing. “This is a nice truck.”

“Another point for me. I’m glad I keep impressing you.” I scoff, causing him to chuckle. “Excuse me, I’m going to have to reach—” He leans across me, going for the glove box.

“Ugh, you could’ve just told me and I would have gotten you whatever you needed—hey!”

Suddenly, he’s on top of me. “Where would be the fun in that? Let’s see if you have anything that will impress me now?”

I scream as his hard body presses against mine. His left hand quickly covers my mouth as his right hand grabs my boob. He shushes me as I thrash beneath him. The truck door flies open, and my head falls back.

“Get the fuck off of her!” A low voice growls.

“Hey!” Suddenly, Nine goes white as a ghost. “S-sorry. I was just—”

“I know exactly what you were just doing. Get the fuck up and get out of here.” Two strong hands lift me up and then I’m being cradled against a broad chest. I know the scent. I look up and it’s Doctor Hall—Roland. He stands me on the sidewalk and begins examining me. The truck roars to life and peels out of the parking lot.

“Denise? Did he?” His voice is gentle and low.

“No. You got there before anything could happen. Thank you.”

Roland looks over his shoulder. I follow his line of sight and spot the two guys with filthy and worn clothes. Roland waves to them, and with their lips pressed together and a single nod, they leave. His eyes come back to me. “Those gentlemen came and told me they saw you. They alerted me that you might be in trouble. But I hate to think of what could’ve happened, had I not got here in time. What are you doing here?”

Feeling defensive and ashamed, I narrow my eyes. “What are you doing here? This doesn’t seem like the type of neighborhood you’d be in.”

“I’m a doctor. My patients are everywhere. I don’t discriminate.”

Guilt wrecks me. I want to cry and scream. Two strong arms embrace me. “Denise, tell me. Does this have anything to do with the pills you had on you at the hospital?” All I can do is nod. “I want you to stop this now. I’m going to help you, but you no longer go to anyone else. If I suspect you’ve gone elsewhere, I’ll notify the police and have you sent to the same facility as Isabelle.”

“How are you going to help?”

His fingers run through my hair and the warmth from that movement is so soothing. “I’ll help you ween off of the ones you’re on. We’ll get through this.” Roland leads me to my car. He opens the door, and I slide in. “Do you still have my card?”

“Yes. No…maybe?”

He pulls out his wallet. “Do you have a pen?” I hand him one and as he writes on the back of the card, he says, “Text me tonight. I’ll drop off a prescription for you. I want to help you, Denise. You’re too nice and too bright of a girl to be mixed up with this.”

I feel ashamed that he knows exactly what I’ve been mixed up in. Maybe if he helps me, I can get better for real this time. I’ll be the person I’ve always wanted to be. Someone that my family, and I’ll be proud of.

That night I decide to stay in the guest house, in case Roland comes by. I text him and tell him that I’m there. A little part of me hopes he’ll want to come inside. I’d offer him a drink—I mean, he did save me today. He’s married and much older than me…but, he gets me. And God, he’s so gorgeous. Instead of hearing a knock, my phone dings with a text that the package has arrived. Sure enough, on the front porch there’s a sealed black parcel with an unlabeled pill bottle inside. Another message comes through telling me to take them only when I feel I need something. I sit my phone down, but it dings one last time. I swipe the screen and see a third message from Roland.

R: I’m here for you. It’s going to be OK.

I turn my phone off, but I still don’t sleep. I can’t sleep, so I put in my earbuds and sketch some fashion designs.

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