Page 33 of Gilded Fake

“Threatening?” he asks. “Of course not. I’m not even warning you. The parents of a girl with such a privileged, sheltered upbringing would have already warned her about the Serpent’s Nest. Not to mention the tales you’ve surely heard at school. It’s said that this doctor once put the severed tongue of a snitch inside her and sewed her closed. The rumor, if you believe such things, is that she died a fairly unpleasant death. Sepsis or an infection of some sort if I had to guess, though I’m not the medical professional that he is.”

“Let me go,” I whisper, trying not to be sick at the gruesome details he revealed.

“No one’s stopping you,” he says, his brows raising in surprise. “You came to my office and asked to see me. You’re free to go whenever you like. If you’d like to continue this discussion, you know where to find me.”

My legs are trembling and my back is stiff as I turn to the door, sure that at any moment he’ll jump over the desk and grab me. I barrel towards Scarlet, not bothering to wipe away the tears I conjured. I’m too scared to pretend anymore, to manipulate or try to get my way. I just want to get out.

Scarlet pushes off the doorframe and retreats into her office to let me pass. “I’ll let Jackie know to be expecting you,” she says in her sweet southern drawl. “We been best friends since we were knee-high to a grasshopper. There’s nothing in this world she wouldn’t do for me. You say hi for me when you see her.”

“Walk her out?” Mav calls toward the white office, his boots swinging lazily as he looks me over with obvious distaste.

“She seems like a smart girl,” the pimp drawls from behind me. “She found her way here on her own. I’m sure she can find her way out the same way.”

I’m shaking so hard I nearly trip over my feet as I rush down the hall and out the front door, only remembering that I left my umbrella when the downpour drenches me. Nothing on earth could compel me to go back in there, so I run for my car. I don’t want to get in and show them what I drive, in case they’re watching, but since they seem to know who I am already, I’m sure they could find my car within seconds anyway.

I sit behind the wheel, my teeth chattering with fear and cold. I can’t go to the police. These thugs will find me and cut out my tongue. I can imagine the pimp doing it with as little emotion as he showed the entire time we talked, like he’s more statue than human. Then he’d throw me to some gangster chop shop that would kill me in an unspeakably gruesome way. I can’t go on Local News with Jackie and expose them because apparently she’s besties with the lowlifes on this side of town.

As I begin to warm up and calm down, my heart flips for a new reason. They knew who I was. Even on this side of town, people know my name.

No one ever said fame was easy or safe. Now that my name is getting out there, I just need some protection. And in this town, there’s no better protection than a big name with big pockets.

It’s time to seal the deal.

eight

Rumor Has It… A new queen will be crowned at prom! Will the usual blonde cheerleader type win, or will you be brave enough to step outside the box and dare to vote for a queen based on merit?

Colt Darling

“Dude, that’s you.”

Someone elbows me, bringing me out of my stupor. For a second, I don’t know where I am, why the lights are blinding me until I can hardly see. I think maybe I’m on the football field again, and I just took a hit, and I’m on my back with the Friday night lights shining and the crowd that will cheer when they help me up—even the opposing team’s side. But then Duke pushes me forward, and I know I’m not fortunate enough to be back to sophomore year, waking up to find this was all a nightmare. I’m on a stage, and I walk forward, even though I’m not sure why I’m here.

I definitely shouldn’t have taken that last pill. Or the three before that.

The headmaster shakes my hand, and I reach out to take my diploma, but it’s not there, and the crowd is all wrong, standing in a ballroom with ceilings painted pitch black with tiny piercing lights twinkling like stars. A convergence of them spells out “Under the Stars” and illuminates the crowd of shadowy faces below.

“You okay?” Gloria asks, and I turn to find my nemesis standing before me. But she doesn’t look like my nemesis anymore. She looks like my wet dream, in a short, filmy pink number that shows off a pair of legs that should be wrapped around my head and a low neckline that shows off a pair of tits that make me ten kinds of stupid. She always been hot, but now that she’s gained some weight, her curves are lethal.

“Huh?” I manage, yanking my gaze from the smooth swell of her breasts that can only be described as breathtaking.

She smirks at me like she has every day since the first time I came into her work, like she knows she has me hooked—or knows she has something on me, something that could destroy me, and she’s biding her time until she uses it. After all, she has nothing to lose now, and I have everything.

She holds up a crown and raises her brow. “You gonna make me come to you, huh?” she asks, stepping close and going up on tiptoes to set it on my head. Her green apple shampoo invades my nostrils, and I’m back in the club, with my face buried in her neck and her cum slick on my cock as she grinds out climax after climax. Those tits brush my chest, and I wrestle not to pop a boner on stage in front of the whole school.

Shit. That’s right. I’m at prom.

I’m not sure if the drugs or the brain damage caused the lapse, but I must have blacked out for a while. It happens sometimes. I don’t think horniness alone can cause a blackout, but if it’s caused by Gloria Walton, it’s entirely possible.

The crowd is cheering, so I turn away from the demon queen who led me to temptation, and I smile and wave. It feels good to be up there again, with people cheering for me, even if my football career is as far removed as the middle finger on my left hand, and half of them spent the last two years spitting on my grave along with the temptress currently reading my girlfriend’s name into the microphone.

I expect Dixie to come storming over and punch Lo in the face after her close contact with me, but she’s too busy squealing and doing a happy dance in front of the other contestants, seemingly oblivious to their resigned smiles and fake cheers to cover their disappointment over not winning it themselves. She prances over to where I stand with Gloria and my aunt, who holds the crown on a velvet pillow.

Gloria lifts it in both hands and turns to Dixie. For one second, the entire hotel ballroom falls silent, every breath held as they wait to see if Gloria will get her revenge, if she’ll smash the spikes into the face of the girl who destroyed her so she could take her place. Gloria hesitates, then grins like she’s enjoying keeping them on their toes, relishing the tease the way she does at Infernal Vices, where she refuses to walk out of the Envy room with me no matter how tall the stack of hundreds along the stage grows.

At last, she nestles the sparkling crown of jewels into Dixie’s stiff updo.

“The rightful queen,” she says, with all the poise befitting the position she held for so long.

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