The Lion's Den(26)

I know, what a loser.

I count seven surveillance cameras on the path from the upper deck to my room. Nearly the entire yacht is covered, save the bathrooms and bedrooms. Unless there are hidden cameras…The thought makes me shiver. I wonder who’s monitoring them, the little tech guy?

I tell myself I’m just being paranoid. No one’s watching me pee.

Back in the room, I’m more tired than I expected after my earlier nap. Definitely too tired to engage with Amythest, who prattles on excitedly about the boat and who we might meet and how awesome it all is. I try to hold my eyes open and nod politely, but they keep closing involuntarily, and after a while she gives up and reads a magazine.

I guess walls on yachts aren’t that thick, because as I fall asleep I can hear Rhonda and Brittani talking through the partition between our rooms. It’s muffled, but the gist is something about trying to get John to marry Summer so that all their problems will be solved.



I wake in the middle of the night to a pounding headache and a burning thirst. How much wine did I drink? I’ve got to be better about hydrating.

I reach for the water bottle on the bedside table, but it’s empty. Damn it. Amythest’s is empty, too. Going upstairs is the last thing I want to do right now, and I’m tired enough I could probably ignore my thirst and get back to sleep, but I know this will only make my headache worse. I swing my feet off the bed and push myself to standing.

I grip the doorknob and attempt to turn it, but it moves only a fraction of an inch before sticking. I jiggle it and push the door. It doesn’t budge. What the…? I throw my shoulder into it, to no avail.

We’re locked in.

Amythest stirs, woken by my beating on the door. She looks at me, confused. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I say, not wanting to worry her. “Sorry. Go back to sleep.”

We’re fucking locked in.

I refill my water bottle with water from the tap and lie staring at the ceiling. But this time it takes me hours to finally fall asleep.





(two years ago)

Los Angeles



Welcome to Heaven. I’m Belle. I’ll be your angel.”

Behind my sunglasses I clocked a group of ten in the cabana with a view of Hollywood, seven guys and three girls. They were in their twenties, tanned, and from what I could tell, already well lubricated.

“Our angel!” A bouncy blonde clapped. “I love your wings. I want some!”

I forced a smile. “They’re for sale in the gift store.” I hated the stupid wings almost as much as I hated the iridescent white bikini top and barely there skirt that made up the rest of my angel uniform. But the money was good and I got to wear sneakers, so I swallowed my pride.

“Just bring her a pair of the damn wings and put it on my tab,” instructed a buff guy with mirrored sunglasses, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. His damp underarm hair tickled my skin; I did my best not to recoil.

“Okay.” This was a huge pain in the ass, as the gift store was in the lobby and I was working a crowded rooftop pool, but we weren’t allowed to say no to the guests. Buff guy’s arm slipped from my shoulders to my waist, replacing the tickle of his underarm hair with the feeling of his clammy hand on my stomach. I wasn’t sure which was worse. In any other situation, I would’ve slapped him. But we both knew I needed his tip.

“I’ll take a Pilsner,” he said. “And a shot of Jack.”

“I want a strawberry daiquiri,” one of the girls chimed in. “And a chicken salad.”

“Cadillac margarita with salt,” said another.

“Red Bull vodka,” a guy demanded as he pushed past me toward the pool.

“Me too,” added another, following him. “And guac and chips.”

“Make that three. And a cheeseburger.”

“Okay.” I maintained my smile. “Is this all on one tab?”

Buff Guy mindlessly stroked my back with his thumb. “I’ll take the girls, but the rest of these guys are on their own.”

God, I hated my job. “Okay.” I wriggled out of his grasp. “Lemme just get this started, and I’ll be back for the rest.”

I punched in their order on the computer and hefted a tray of draft beers for another table. As I carefully threaded my way through the crowd of wet revelers, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Summer, her hair swept up in a messy bun, her hot-pink bikini doing an insufficient job of containing her new boobs.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Just lying out. Take a break for a sec. Come hang with me.”

“We’re not allowed to sit. Or fraternize with guests.”

She rolled her eyes. “So stupid. What time are you off?”

“Five.”

“Oh good! You have to come with me to this art show. I met the most amazing guy. He’s supersmart and so talented, and crazy hot.…”

I shifted the tray of beers onto a cocktail table. “Did you break up with Brian?”

“No. I live there! I can’t break up with him. But he’s barely in town, so it’s no big deal. He’ll never find out.” This seemed like terrible reasoning to me, but Summer’s dating habits were so far removed from my own that I knew nothing I could say would matter. “Anyway, I’m meeting the hot guy at this art show, and his brother’s gonna be in town for the night, so I thought we should all go out together.”