Page 75 of The Dollhouse

Roman used to be this place’s most generous client, taking girls in the backroom and watching as Carter had them every which way. I tried not to think about it anymore, especially since I was still friends with Crystal, a girl who lived in my building and had recently left the Dollhouse to pursue a different life.

The point was, Roman didn’t come here to take girls in the back anymore. When he came, he came to talk business—or drag me into the back with Carter.

Me, it was onlymenow, and that was exactly how I liked it. It’s how it would stay, if I had my wish. I never wanted to know a life without them, even if they were ruthless and vicious.

Killers. I did not want to be without them, even though I knew they were both cold-blooded killers.

Was that wrong? I often sat here in the office wondering that very same thing. My ex, Bryan Oakes, had met his untimely end after following me here. I hadn’t seen it, but I’d heard the gunshot, so I knew. I knew for a fact Bryan was dead, and I’d stayed in the backroom as Roman and Carter had taken the body, disposed of it, and had the floor cleaned.

I should feel something else, guilty he was dead, maybe. Besides being a cheat, Bryan wasn’t a bad guy. I hated him, sure, but did I ever wish him death? Not going to lie, a sick part of me gained a certain type of satisfaction knowing my sister would never know what happened to Bryan; that’s what she got for fucking my boyfriend behind my back.

The strange thing was, I didn’t, which was why I was starting to wonder if, maybe, Roman was right all along—that there was a darkness inside of me, just waiting to come out. A normal person would feel disgusted anytime they looked at Roman while knowing what he did, but when I gazed at him, all I felt was the way my heart sped up and how my lower half ached.

I heaved a sigh, knowing I should get out there, if only to get out of my own head. I pushed out of my seat, standing. My legs wore tight black leggings, my signature pink sneakers on my feet. A low-cut shirt sat on my chest, the top few buttons undone to reveal a lacy bra. Roman didn’t like it when I danced for anyone but him—or Carter—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t dress up a little. Help the girls get better tips and all that. Money wasn’t an issue for me, not with Roman taking care of everything these days, but it was for the other workers here. I did what I could for them.

Even though some of them knew Roman and Carter, I couldn’t help but feel a connection to each and every one of these girls. They each were running from something, or trying to pay for college, or just trying to make it out here in the world on their own. They were stronger than they gave themselves credit for.

I walked through the locker room, where the girls kept their purses and coats, pushing out into the Dollhouse. The club was dark, save for the dim lights turned low above my head. A sexy beat played, and I could see Ruby swinging her ass on stage. A thin piece of fabric clung to her tits, a thong hugging her ass. She was working it, and she was being generously rewarded by the men sitting in the seats near the stage.

I headed to the bar area, where Jamie stood, pouring a round of drinks and setting them on a tray. I leaned on the counter, taking a quick look around the club. This place… it used to feel uncomfortable to me, but now it kind of felt like home.

“You don’t look too happy,” Jamie remarked as she set another glass on the tray. Tonight her black, curly hair was drawn up. Her black eyes were all too knowing, and she saw right through me, as she always seemed to do. It was like her superpower, no joke.

I tried not to talk about Roman and Carter too much when I was with her, mostly because she still didn’t trust them, and she didn’t see what I saw in them. Still, I found myself saying, “Carter’s out again tonight with that girl I told you about.”

Jamie shook her head. She didn’t say anything for a while, not until she was finished with the drinks, and the girl who’d put in the order for her table came and grabbed the tray. “You’re a better woman than me, Zoey. If I was you, I wouldn’t trust either of those guys.”

Oh, yes. Her feelings about them were abundantly clear; they’d been crystal clear from the beginning.

It was hard for me. Doubly hard because of what I’d gone through with my sister and Bryan, not to mention the fact that occasionally I worried Roman would get tired of me and decide to walk out of my life. He claimed he never would, and I believed him, but sometimes it was hard to push the doubts away.

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” I said. It’s what I repeated to myself until I saw Carter after his nights out with Lola. She was supposed to be a singer at some other club in the city. A part of me wanted to sneak into the club and see her, but I didn’t want to be that psycho girlfriend who didn’t trust her boyfriends.

Jamie made a noncommittal noise, wiping where the tray had been. I leaned my back on the counter, eyes surveying the club. I watched as a group of new men walked in, a group of friends, maybe, though they all wore similar leather jackets.

A little odd, since we didn’t normally get that type in here. The Dollhouse mainly catered to the horny men who didn’t like what they had going on in their homes, or the newly-turned eighteen-year-olds who wanted to go to a strip club.

They walked right past the bouncers, acting like they owned the place, and then their heads snapped in my direction. It was like time stopped, the music of the Dollhouse fading in the background. Something inside me twisted, hardening to a point as the group of men stared at me.

Almost… well, almost like they came here looking for me.

And then they reached into their jackets and pulled out guns. Every one of them had the same kind of gun, a sleek, black handgun, a pistol of some kind. They moved as one, and they were too far away from the bouncers for them to have made any difference.

What happened next happened in slow motion, or at least in my head.

Flashes of white—or maybe that was just what my mind saw when I heard the first loud bangs. Just like when I’d been in the backroom, tucked away, while Roman and Carter dealt with Bryan, only this time there was no door between me and the sound.

And this time there was more than one.

Bang, bang, bang. Loud, repeating sounds. Pain bloomed in my arm, and instantly, I dropped to the floor. With the bar at my back, there was nowhere to run. Screams erupted in the club, and the bouncers were on the men instantly, but not before they got out a few more shots.

I didn’t see who they were shooting at, too busy holding my arm, feeling wetness there.

The shooting didn’t last long, but it felt like it went on forever. The men wrestled themselves free of the bouncers and ran out, taking their guns with them. I steadily got to my feet, glancing all around. Ruby was on the stage, near her pole, holding onto her side, bright red seeping beneath her fingers. One of the patrons was shot in the shoulder. There were probably more, but that’s all I could see.

Jamie was up and around the counter the next moment, helping to steady me as she glanced down at my arm. “Shit, girl, you were shot!”

“So was Ruby,” I said, and Jamie glanced toward the stage. “Go check on her and the others. I need to call Roman.” This had to do with him. It had to. My heart beat too fast in my chest for me to think straight, but I knew that much.

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