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Malice mixed with the dark desire of a villain. The look a predator would issue on its prey before it strikes, before it consumes, before it devours.
I recognize it now from the past.
Jericho tilts his head, keeping his unwavering gaze trained on me. “I’ll send you a message with my instructions in the morning. See you tomorrow night.” There’s no mistaking the promise in his words.
With that said, he walks away without another word, leaving me stunned and speechless.
Feeling numbness spreading throughout my body, I watch him until he leaves through the door and I can’t see him anymore, but I still stare after him as if I can.
Jericho—my ex—just kissed me.
Jericho Grayson just bought me in an auction for sixty thousand dollars, then he kissed me the way passionate lovers kiss when they can’t get enough of each other.
I don’t think I could make any of that up if I tried.
Earlier, I thought I was in hell. Now I feel like I’ve been pulled into a crazy episode of theTwilight Zone.
* * *
Sixty thousand dollars were deposited into my account before I even reach home.
The wholesixty thousand, meaning Jericho must have paid the club their cut on top to ensure I received the entire amount.
I was still in that numb frame of mind, so it took me several hours before I felt normal again.
Once I checked on Gina and saw she was okay and asleep, I went to my room. I got changed for bed, but I didn’t sleep. The events of the night have run through my mind scene by scene, minute by minute, second by second.
It continued like that, stuck on a loop until birds began chirping outside my window and the first traces of sunlight brightened my room.
It’s morning. I didn’t sleep a wink all night, and I don’t even feel tired.
It must be the shock. I participated in that auction hoping for someone to bid twenty thousand dollars on me, but I came home with sixty thousand dollars in my bank account. Courtesy of my ex I never wanted to see again, much less owe.
I know I don’t have to pay Jericho back the money, but I do owe him.
As much as I hate to admit it, he was right. I could have ended up in the Playboy Mansion with the Hugh Hefner wannabe, or with someone else. I could have also ended up with less money.
I stopped Jericho in his tracks from helping me the other day, but he still found a way.
My pride is wounded, but truthfully…
I can’t deny that there’s a sense of relief on my soul for having that money. I can pay all the arrears on the loans and the house bills. If there’s anything left, I can put it towards Gina’s care. Having that money will almost put me on track where I can make the monthly repayments.
I’m not out of the woods, but the path is clearing. Now it looks like I should be able leave Club Edge and the café in three months’ time. That’s moved up my leaving date by several months. I could use the summer to practice, spend time with Gina and my father. I might even be able to have some form of a life.
My alarm goes off an hour later, and I get ready for the café.
Just before I leave, a message from an unrecognized number comes through on my phone. The instant I read the first few words, I know it’s from Jericho. It says:
I’ll send a car to pick you up from your aunt’s at seven. We’re going to the Artisan. See you then.
J.
I note that he still refers to himself as J and that he must know I’m staying at Gina’s. I’m still not sure exactly what he knows about me, but I don’t doubt he’ll be digging deeper for things he didn’t know.
I guess I’ll find more out when I see him at the Artisan. It’s not surprising he picked somewhere like that.
The Artisan is a trendy club that hosts nightly live art shows. It’s somewhere I’ve always wanted to go but never expected to in my lifetime. It costs five hundred dollars just to get in, and there’s a yearlong wait list. I suppose that’s for people like me.
