Page 25 of Dreadful
My lower belly flutters until my good sense weighs the butterflies like stones.
Of course not. Why would he care about me?
Unless…
Does he know what I did?
For the past few days, I’ve had the eeriest feeling that I’m being watched. Somehow I never got literal blood on my hands, but I glance down at my palms for the millionth time anyway to reassure myself they’re not soaked in evidence.
“Stop it, Tallie. It’s in your head.” I shake my hands quickly before raking them through my snaking curls. My fingers snag on the spirals, pulling tightly and squeezing against the sides of my head. The painful pressure takes my mind off of my brief moment of insanity. I let go and ball my hands into fists before rushing back to the dressing rooms.
Shoving down my paranoia, I dive into work. There’s an afterparty backstage for those who want to stay and mingle with the VIP audience. If they change beforehand and need my help, I’ll be available, but many of them will want to remain in their costumes. Either way, as soon as the actors that have been assigned to me are done, I’m gone.
I return to the dressing room for the only actor who insists I cater to him directly, whether there’s a problem or not. The rest of them are self-sufficient, but Percy can’t let a moment go by without trying to get under my skin or in my pants. Apprehension fills my veins at the thought. Last night was a close call, but I can get through his advances tonight too, just like I have every other time.
The director, Deon, would put a stop to it instantly if I reported. Or at least I hope he would. He’d have to believe me first. In any case, I don’t want to make waves. Not when I’m already trying to lay low in general.
Percy saunters into the room wearing the same gardener costume I used for my own purposes earlier this week. He smooths his already slicked-back brown hair, and his eyes rove up and down my body more obviously than usual.
Great. This again.
He’s always behaved inappropriately around me, but his creepy vibes feel like they’ve been turned up a notch for some reason.
My hair is down, and I’ve got my comfy black V-neck sweater dress on, along with black leggings and knee-high boots. It’s nothing glamorous and even complete with a soft measuring tape hanging around my neck and a black costume apron. The ensemble helps me fade into the background, perfect to stay hidden in the shadows. I’ve worn something similar for every show, so the extra attention isn’t for what I’m wearing. Not that my outfit has ever been to blame. But from Percy’s hungry gaze, you’d think I was half-naked.
He must think this kind of undivided attention is sexy, however, I am certainly not the right audience for this show. All I feel is annoyance.
Percy snaps me out of the thought as he spreads out his arms in the small space and spins once dramatically.
“Ready to strip me, baby? We’ve got a party to get to.”
I shake my head and turn around, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking I’ll watch more of his little performance.
“Hmm, hard pass, Percy. Your change of clothes is ready for you. I’ve set your suit out, and I trust you can handle the rest—”
I yelp as he hooks his arm around my waist. A jolting shock ripples underneath my skin, and I’m momentarily stunned into stillness. He’s touched me without permission before. Last night was worse than this, actually. But now that he’s closer, I cansmellwhy he’s being so bold tonight, and it changes everything.
The familiar stench of booze wafts from him. That sickening aroma, plus the grabby way he’s pawing at me, makes me swallow back the urge to gag. He’s tried to take liberties before. That was bad enough, and now I have to deal with him drunk as he does it? For the first time around him, a real frisson of fear shoots down my spine, and I take a deep breath through my mouth to try to get past the memories crashing into my mind.
“Smells like you’ve already started pre-gaming.”
“Some of the stagehands had mini bottles. We downed them before curtain call. Sad I didn’t share?”
“No. Just trying to do my job and get us both out of here.”
I keep my voice emotionless to stop him from finding out he’s having any effect on me. There’s no way I can handle another night like last night if he’s also drunk. He seems unfazed by my lack of reaction, though, and squeezes me tighter. I snatch a needle from the apron around my waist and prick the back of his hand hard enough to draw blood.
“Son of a—fuck.” He shoves me away. The needle falls to the ground as I try to catch myself on the clothes hanging from a rod on the back wall. “You stabbed me with a needleagain?You’ve been clumsy as shit all week. What gives?”
You’ve been getting more handsy all week, stronzo.
“Oops, sorry.” I shrug. Inside, I’m praying that he’ll calm down now that I’ve poked the shit out of him. It’s worked every other night this week, so far, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep playing nice.
“You probably got more blood on it,” he grumbles and checks his shirt. “There’s already some blood here.”
“What? Where?” My brows furrow.
“See?” He holds up his lower sleeve to show the dark, crimson dots peppering the pale fabric. “You should be more careful. Your little stunts could cost you your job one day if I have anything to say about it.”
