Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Sighing, I pick up the new phone Delila bought and set up for me and open up a Google search. I’ve been thinking about Delila and how I feel about her and Rose. Whether or not I should confide in them with what happened back on the yacht with the neon masked rapist. I want to. I feel dirty and violated from what he did to me, while knowing it could have been much worse. But another part of me doesn’t really know if I can trust anyone to confide in yet. No matter how close Rose and I are becoming, I’m still not comfortable enough to talk about it. I’ll deal with it in on my own, and then allow people in when I’m ready.
I type the club into my iPhone and grab the number from the search results before dialing Rich. Like both Delila and King said, I have agreed to be a part of this now, so there’s no going back.
“Rich, it’s me, Dove.”
Rich sighs. “Jesus, Dove. I’ve aged fifty years since you’ve been gone.”
“Well, we can’t have that. You’re already old as shit,” I joke, chuckling at myself.
He grunts. “I see you’ve expanded your vocabulary a little more.”
I lie back on my bed, my hand resting over my belly. I want to know how long I’ve been gone, but I don’t want to freak him out by openly asking it. “So, how’s the bar been since I’ve been gone?”
“Too busy. This last week has been busy. When are you coming back?”
One week. Okay, so twenty-two girls only equaled one week. Hearing Rich’s voice has calmed me to an extent. I feel like my life is twisting and turning, and I can’t quite grasp onto the things that are happening. Now I have to give him the news. “Ah, not anytime soon. I have been dragged into some…” I freeze, racking my brain for an excuse. “Family drama…” That’s the best I got.
“Family?” he asks, shocked. “Thought you didn’t have any.”
“Oh, I don’t, not really. This is not my birth family. One of my foster homes.” I know he wants to ask more questions, so I quickly cut him off. “I’m going to try to come home for a visit soon, but can you do me a favor?” I chew on my lip nervously. He doesn’t answer, but that’s nothing new with Rich. “Can you empty my room and sell everything?”
“What!” he yells. “What do you mean?”
I sigh, rolling to my belly. I loved living with Rich and helping him out with his girls, but I know that this is the right thing to do. I can’t be living there to help pay the rent, and I can’t go back to empty my room anytime soon. I know he will want someone in there soon to help pay the mortgage and take care of the girls. “I’m living here now. I can’t explain much, but can you please do this for me? Let the girls choose whatever they want. I know Angela wanted my iPad. She can have that. Sell the rest and donate the money to…” I pause, thinking over my next words. “Survivors of sexual abuse.”
Rich sighs. “All right, little lady. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Rich!” I spend the next five minutes going back and forth with him, catching up on the drama. He finally lets me go, and I hang up, rubbing my warm ear.
My phone vibrates on the bed beside me again, and I half-think it’s Rich with a change of heart, but it’s a text from Rose.
I can’t believe I’m being made tonight.
I read over her words. When Delila gave me the phone this morning, she said that Rose has one, too, with both our numbers saved into each other’s device. I send her a text back.
What do you mean made?
She texts back instantly. My initiation into Midnight is tonight before we leave. Tell me you’ll be there.
Initiation? They have an actual initiation? When will mine be then? Will they even have one for me?
What time?
Midnight.
My fingers hover over the words. I’ll be there.
I set my alarm for eleven-thirty, kick off my jeans, and remove my bra before diving beneath the covers of my bed. I watch the sun setting through the glass window, warming my skin, before falling into a deep sleep.
The ringing of my alarm blares through the quiet night. I shoot up from the bed, swiping the sleep from my eyes. “Shit.”
“Going somewhere?” Kyrin asks, leaning against the frame where my curtain hangs.
“Holy shit!” I shove my shirt down to cover myself more, but it’s no use. My shirt is too short, and Kyrin is already eyeing me up and down.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Little Bird. I’ve seen better.”
I force myself not to let it bother me so much. I was a stripper. Why the fuck should I care anyway?