Page 224 of Soul So Dark
“I used to hunt on my best friend, Jay’s, property. His parents have 20 acres, all wooded. We hada lotof fun out there.”
It feels like there’s much more behind his words than he’s letting on. Or maybe he’s just alluding to torturing small animals, I’m not quite sure. But, in any event, I’m not going to let it affect me.
I can’t.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask the questions I need answers to without being completely obvious, but it takes time—time I don’t want to fucking waste. And Bowen’s not stupid. Narcissistic, maybe, but there’s a reason he only throws me enough bones to stay hungry. He likes the attention, especially from a guy who’s a better gamer than he is.
I finally log off, disconnecting from my imaginary world where I can play video games with Bowen Garrison like he didn’t murder my sister six years ago. I have to disassociate for these small spans of time because the bigger game is more important. The day he either gets life without parole or dies is the most important. But I have to leave it in the ether for the time being, because I have a commitment tonight.
TheFandora’s Boxlogo fills the browser window with the clock in the corner counting down to 10:00 PM EST. I start making the rounds, turning on the neon purple lights strategically placed throughout the room that transform the charcoal grey walls into an ultraviolet cave. I hear Alex’s footsteps in the hallway as I move to the cameras affixed to the head of the bed, in each corner, and at different heights throughout the room to catch every angle imaginable.
Scroll down to find your favorite feed.
Alex shuts the door and extends his hand, offering a square of exercise tape to me. I finish adjusting the camera on top of the monitor and take it from him.
“Do you think it's weird,” I ask, “that I like when you fuck me in front of strangers?”
“No.” He grins as I peel the tape off its backing and position it over his tattoo. “Doyouthink it's weird that I like fucking you in front of strangers?”
“No.” I return the smile. “There’s something exciting about it, but only because no one knows who we are. Why doyoudo it?”
“Because I’m arrogant and self-absorbed.”
I let out a snort. “Youare neither arrogant nor self-absorbed.”
“You only say that because you’re the only person on this earth I’ll do anything for, without question.”
I lock onto his eyes as I smooth the tape over his pec. “Even before my brother?”
I shouldn’t ask him that. It’s not a fair question.
“Yes,” he answers without skipping a beat.
A wave of adrenaline rushes through my belly, just like every other time he says something like this. Maybe it’s a product of living in Colson’s daunting shadow, but I’m still not used to sitting on anyone’s pedestal above him.
“It doesn’t matter how good something looks,” Alex continues, “because in the end, watching only gets you so far. They don’t get to feel what I feel. They can only imagine it. They onlywishthey could experience it.” He gives a sharp nod to the bed. “Now lay down.”
Heat blooms across my cheeks as I pull my shirt and bra up over my head and toss it into the corner. Viewers on six continents have seen a full spread of my pussy and Alex Barrera is still the only one who can make me blush.
I crawl up the bed to the pile of pillows against the tufted headboard. It’s funny how Alex is the one with tape over his chest now instead of me. Now, I only wear a mask. Alex tosses a controller at my feet along with my white balaclava. I slide it over my face, pulling my black ponytail through the hole at the top, and settle back as he signs in.
The usual banners begin to scroll; our names, the rules, the terms, and the most important part—the starting bids.
GhostW@ke: $1200 USD
SilentStorm: $2700 USD
I wait for the screen to change to see who the lucky victim is tonight. There are already 3,200 users logged in to view the match. There’s a base fee to enter the lobby and the more you pay, the more camera feeds you unlock. But if you want a chance at the big money, you bet on the players—us.
It’s alwaysCall of Duty.And it’s always three matches. Each time, Alex or I play a spectator who qualifies with a consistent bidding record. But, as Alex says, alliances are fluid. You can switch sides at any time by placing a bet for the other player. The higher the bids, the more money the spectators win, unless you’re caught on the wrong side by the end when the featured player either wins or loses.
But winning is nuanced, it’s not just about ending up with the highest score at the end of three matches. If Alex is playing, he has to beat the spectator opponent…before I make him come. And vice versa. It’s not enough to just be good at the game; it’s mind over matter.
I don’t know shit about online betting, but what I do know is that Alex trusts Thatcher and we always end the night with a staggering amount of cash. The opponent can pay extra to speak over the mic, which usually results in them cussing one of us out before taking a shot to the head for their rudeness. And if we choose, spectators can also pay to stay logged in and submit requests…for a price. So far, we’ve never turned anyone down.
As soon as I start casting to the 82-inch TV screen mounted above the computer monitors, a new handle pops up next to mine.
“I’ve seen this guy before,” I say. “He’s pretty good.”
