Page 2 of Room Twenty-Eight: Her Beautiful Surrender

Moving on to the final man, I notice I’ve captured his attention already. He’s the perfect mix of light and dark from the other two. Dark brownish-blonde hair, light green eyes, clean-shaven, tattoos on his legs, and a scar on his belly that I’d love to know more about. As my gaze peruses his body, I feel my nipples perk up and beg for their attention, which is ridiculous because I can’t be attracted to three men at once. There’s no way. It’s forbidden and unethical, and I’m quite certain they’d never go for a nerdy girl like me. It’s been proven time and time again at home that I’m just not what guys are interested in. It’s why I’m literally paying someone to take my virginity tonight.

With one last glance at the three handsome men, I turn back around just as Slater wraps an arm around my shoulder and whispers in my ear to get Leon pissed off again.

“You coming to my room tonight, sweetheart?” I cringe at the invite; I’m never sure if he’s serious or not.

“Touch her, and I’ll knock your ass out. You won’t need to wait on Diesel Liberty to take your ass down,” Leon threatens. I frown at the use of the name, assuming he’s a player for the Black Bears.

As our food is brought to the table, the guys continue bashing each other and cracking dirty jokes. It’s a little like being inside the locker room because they look at me as I am—Leon’s little sister. For the most part, I enjoy watching the camaraderie and brotherhood that links them through professional hockey, but I’m so distracted by those other three men and find it hard to concentrate on anything being said.

“Asta?” Leon’s worried tone drags me back to the present.

“Yeah?” I force a smile at him.

“Where were you just now?” His head cocks quizzically.

I shrug. “Just thinking about the cemetery tour.” The lie falls easily from my lips.

“You sure you want to do that alone?” He turns more fully to face me and blocks out the others. Since meeting Leon a couple of years ago, he’s always had this protective streak. As much as I feared getting to know him then, he quickly eased my concerns with how much he genuinely cares and is nothing like our father.

“Positive. I enjoy doing them alone because then my reactions are genuine and not stifled because I’m with people I know.” There’s been more than one haunted place that has sent my heart racing and a scream bubbling up from my lips.

“I don’t like you out there alone,” he grumbles.

A chuckle escapes. “I won’t be. I’ll have a small group of others and the tour guides.” His lips thin, still not happy about it. “I’ll text you as soon as I leave and then when I get back to my hotel.” I don’t mention that I’ll only be at my hotel long enough to shower and collect a small bag for my night at Club Sin.

“You’re still coming to the game tomorrow, right?” I don’t understand hockey, so he’s always worried I’ll flake out.

“Of course. I brought my jersey and everything!” It was one of the first things Leon gave me when I grew comfortable enough to spend more time with him and accept his invitations. I go to nearly every home game and always wear his name and number. I don’t expect that to ever change.

Checking the time on my Apple watch, I wince. “I’ve got to get going so I don’t miss my time. I’ll talk to you later?” I’m rushing to pull cash from my pocket when he puts his hand over mine.

“I got this. Go have fun; tell me about it tonight.” Smiling, I lean down to kiss his cheek before waving my goodbyes and rushing off to hail a taxi.

* * *

“Welcome to St. Louis Cemetery Number One. My name is Rhonda, and I’ll be your walking guide this evening. Before we begin, let me give you just a few quick facts for reference.” Rhonda is attired in what can only be described as a sixteenth-century torture dress with how tight the white corset cinches her body.How does she even breathe in that thing?

“SLC No. 1 was established in 1789 and is one of the oldest existing cemeteries in New Orleans. Originally built as a temporary burial site, the Spanish Royals decreed its permanency that same year. It was only in 1975 that this cemetery was declared a historical site of significance by the National Register. To date, you can still be buried in the cemetery, and one of our most famous residents is the Vodou queen Marie Laveau.” She continues on with other facts I’ve already learned as she begins walking.

For as close to the streets as we are, the noise of traffic and pedestrians is blocked out by the thick brick walls, tall tombstones, and mystique offered from just being here.

There are many reasons to be creeped out in a place like this, but I’m utterly fascinated by my experience. I have a tiny video camera attached to the button of my coat so my viewers can come along. I’ll edit it down to give them eerie glimpses and be enticed to come for a tour themselves.

My equipment bag hangs heavy on my shoulder as I wait for the perfect moment to capture an image while the sun begins setting. A fog brews over the grass and stone paths, giving off an ethereal vibe as I crouch down low to snap an image of a tombstone of an infant who lived too short a life.

As we move along, Rhonda tells us about some of the more famous burials before recounting some of the forgotten. Spooky sounds permeate the air: a squeaky gate, leaves rustling, the whistling wind. If not for the hair on the nape of my neck standing on end, I’d think it was manufactured to make the tour creepier.

Hanging back from the group, I close my eyes and allow myself to absorb the atmosphere around me. Absorb the suffering from the tragic deaths brought on by great fires or an epidemic.

A shiver races up my spine as a draft invades my bones. It feels warm but cool at the same time. Scared but peaceful. Lifting my camera, I slowly open my eyes and begin taking photos, turning in a steady circle so I capture every angle of the moment I just encountered.

Taking a few steps off the path the tour group is using, I take a few angled shots of tombs that appear to be crumbling, giving off an eerie effect of death and decay. The sorrow I feel as I read the dates on some of the tombs is nearly overwhelming as I slowly catch up with everyone.

Rhonda is still talking about the history when I hear a peal of childlike laughter that gives me pause, and I smile. It’s carefree and happy. I’ve always dreamed of having my own family one day, but I know it’ll most likely never happen. I’ve never met anyone who made me feel like I could give them my heart, let alone my body.

By the time we reach the end of the tour, storm clouds have rolled in to hide the remainder of the sunlight, and a gentle sprinkle of rain has begun. Catching a cab back to my hotel, I grab a snack from the little store in the lobby while texting Leon as promised to let him know I’m safe and sound.

The elevator ride up to my fourth-floor room is silent as I flick through some images on my camera. I’m not paying attention to my surroundings as I depart the car, and by the time I reach my room, swipe my card to open the door, and enter, I have no idea someone has followed me.

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