Page 21 of Bully

All because Tamen Bryce said to do it.

He had the pretty gifts delivered to my apartment with a handwritten note of what to do and where to go, according to his instructions.

I really needed to get a handle on the obsession I had with gifts, because it seemed Tamen was onto me and knew my weakness.

Well, my weaknesses—gifts andThe Winstonian.

It didn’t hurt that the name of the restaurant alone made my mouth water thanks to the classy reviews I’d been stalking online for months now. So of course, I jumped right up and played puppet to the master, starting with an everything shower that primped my body in ways I only did for paying customers.

In a way, that’s exactly what Tamen Bryce was.

He paid me to be at his disposal, and maybe that was why I fell in line so quickly with him. Though as I primped for him, I wondered if he planned to have me served raw food to give me food poisoning for my outburst last night. It was something I would do to him for revenge.

In my defense, I hadn’t meant to throw the glass at the man. Or even at Val, I would have felt awful if my frenzy had hurt her. I just couldn’t help it, after spending over a week in the man’s presence and fighting the highs and lows of my attraction and my hate for him, constantly in battle. Isnapped.

There was an entire documentary named after the act, for Christ’s sake, it made sense. I could see why so many women did it now, too.

So maybe, by me falling in line and showing up at The Winstonian, I could try to make amends. Maybe even let it be my way of trying to be a good girl to get along with my new boss for the betterment of Prism’s success.

“Good evening,” A young hostess greeted me as I walked across the marble foyer, glancing around at the grand specter of it all. “Welcome to The Winstonian, do you have a reservation?”

“I’m meeting someone.” I replied as I got to the desk, “Tamen Bryce.” She scrolled through her computer screen as I glanced around the foyer, looking for the man in question, “I’m not sure if he’s here yet or not.”

“He’s not.” She looked up, “But your table is ready, so I’ll have you seated to wait for him.”

“Thank you.” I said, turning to a young server who appeared out of nowhere, motioning for me to follow him.

As I walked through the restaurant, my skin prickled with how out of place I felt amongst all the rich people I passed. If I was good at anything though, it was playing a part, so I kept my head high and my back straight as I walked through the crowd to a table set for two, seemingly in the middle of the restaurant.

I couldn’t have picked a worse table if I had tried, and as I sat down in the pulled-out chair, it felt as if every eye in the room was on me. As if somehow, everyone knew I didn’t belong with my gifted couture and rainbow hair.

“Can I open a bottle for the table while you wait?” The server asked, and I eyed the limited wine list he handed to me.

It wasn’t as if I was broke, for years now I had been well off enough to stop worrying about money all together. I hardly even looked at my bank statements anymore. But that was because I didn’t spend it on frivolous things.

Like bottles of wine that cost hundreds of dollars. Tamen Bryce picked the place, though, so he could pay the bill.

“I’ll take the Sauvignon.” I handed the menu back to him with a smile.

“Wonderful choice.” The young kid nodded, “It pairs best with our halibut and caper salad.”

When he left, I forced myself to take a deep breath and look around at the other guests. I hated sitting by myself, anywhere but especially in a place like this. I was a single woman living in a bustling city but stayed at home or work most times, ordering food in to avoid situations just like this one.

Unfortunately for me, I also noticed more than one familiar face in the restaurant. The familiar faces were actively trying to avoid eye contact as everyone else was rubbernecking to see the lonely female sitting by herself in the center of their space.

Johns.

Customers from The Den, who hired me or other girls for their sexual enjoyment.

Men who were sitting at sweetheart tables with women their age, wearing giant wedding rings to match their snubby noses as they stared.

My skin burned from how unjust the sex work field was and the stigmas that surrounded it. Men could cheat on their wives, hiring prostitutes to do all kinds of weird and freaky shit to them that their spouses didn’t even know existed, yet when we all stood in polite society, the hired women were the ones to be ostracized.

It pissed me off. And the longer they stared at me, I felt like I could hear their whispered judgements and gossip.

When the server arrived with the bottle, he went through the big show of opening it and pouring it for me before eyeing the empty chair across from me. “Would you like me to wait to pour a second glass?”

“One is fine for now. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”