Page 24 of Devil's Bargain

Nina watches me root through my bag. “What kind of plans?”

I tense as the warm breeze moves my hair off my neck. “I have to help my mom with something.” It’s technically not a lie.

I give up and tip my bag upside down. Bingo. There they are.

I crouch down, scoop up the keys, and put the other random objects back inside my bag. What is it with us girls and handbags that resemble a biohazard zone? It’s not as if I collect things on purpose. Sometimes things find their own way inside.

“Give me a text if you change your mind.”

I get to my feet and insert the key into the car door. The lock needs lubricating. “Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, bitch!”

I smile over my shoulder as Nina gets in her car and speeds off. One day she’s going to get a speeding ticket. Not that she would care.

Dragging in a deep breath, I scan my eyes over the school building. The reality of what I’m about to do is starting to dawn on me. “Let’s just get this over with!”

I get behind the wheel, pull the squeaky door shut, and place my bag on the passenger seat.

I glance at the building again. Scott’s classroom is the fourth window to the left. Days ago, I was on my knees beneath his desk with his cock in my mouth. The thought makes me feel both sick and aroused. I rub my face and blow out a breath.

I’m swimming in the deep end with no life vest, and I’m about to drown!

* * *

I stare at the number on the door.

Twelve.

The number two has come off, and the space where it used to be is lighter in color. As if the memory of the number lingers like the phantom sensation of an old wedding ring you lost.

I look down at the keycard in my hand, tapping it on my palm.

The sun is setting in the distance, but darkness is still some way away. I drove out here early since there was no point in going home. I don’t have a working shower at my house right now, so I decided to come here and have one before Scott arrives.

The parking lot is almost empty except for three other cars.

I insert the keycard and step inside before my nerves get the best of me.

The room is small, the worn dark green carpet is threadbare in places, and the cream walls have yellowed over time. Cigarette smoke lingers in the air as if embedded in the upholstery despite the cracked open window.

The lone canvas of a painted bouquet of flowers on the wall next to the bed has a cut in it as if someone decided to pierce and tear it with a pair of scissors or a knife.

I drop my bag to the floor and walk the four steps to the opposite side of the room. There’s not much in here. A bed with an old-fashioned flowery bedspread on it, a desk with a chair and a separate recliner next to it that match the green carpet.

The bathroom is no better. The grout in the shower has black mold on it, and the mirror above the sink is cracked. I don’t dare lift the toilet lid for fear of what I’ll find. This kind of poverty is the norm where I’m from, so it doesn’t surprise me, but it makes me feel cheap.

Not that it would make much difference if Scott paid for a luxury hotel room for the night, but at least I’d be able to wash off the shame in a whirlpool bath.

I pick up a thin towel and strip out of my clothes. At least this place has a shower and electricity. It’s a luxury I don’t even have at home, but I should be able to afford it after tonight.

When I’ve showered and shaved, I get dressed and blow-dry my hair, noting to bring my own hairdryer next time.

I pace.

The TV has two channels. After watching ten minutes of a black and white movie older than my grandparents, I switch it off and root through my bag for a snack bar. At least I have some food in the house now.

Ten minutes turn into twenty, and twenty minutes turn into forty. Our arranged time comes and goes. I stare at the clock above the door. Just when I’m convinced that he’s not going to show, he does.

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