Spike (12 page)

“Prove it,” I blurt out.

“I’ll email it to you now. You should be proud of your performance.”
Goddamn fucker.

“But I … I don’t have that kind of money.” I’d already drained most of my savings.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
What have I got left of any value?

“I need more time.”

“Someone will call you before Saturday to give you the time and location of the drop off. And again, keep your mouth shut and your
precious
boyfriend won’t get hurt.”

“But …” I choke out.

The line goes dead.
Where the fuck am I gonna get that kind of money?

As soon as I’m alone, I check my emails. And there’s one there waiting for me. Just like the voice said.

The mouse arrow hovers over it until my shaking finger has the courage to double-click. The email opens up, my heart palpitating like an overexcited puppy.

I can make out my voice; the sound is distant, but I’m loud enough to know I’m not faking. No Harry met Sally here. It’s all me. The first fucking time I really let the wildness out, let Aidan hear what he does to me, and I’m fucking on camera!
FUCK!
The vision is close-up and surprisingly clear, with the fire creating a luminous backdrop.

I’m bouncing up and down like how I imagine a porn star would. As much as I remember that moment to be hot, and sweet, and probably the most memorable sex of my life, right now I could not be more disgusted. I am beyond mortified.

Saliva builds up in my mouth, and the sudden urge to bring up my last meal has me throwing up in the waste bin. The acid burns my mouth as I run to the bathroom and cough before I rinse my mouth with cold water.

I stare at my reflection, but I don’t recognise the girl staring back at me. This isn’t me. A liar. A victim of blackmail. A girl in a pornographic tape. But the truth is, it
is
me, and all these things are real.

Some animal followed us into the mountains, then filmed us—and they were close. They created a digital record of a moment of such intimacy between the man I love and me.

If that footage goes viral, it will be beyond devastating. This is “drink myself into oblivion” kind of shit, with the hope of not waking up.

Money. Where the fuck am I going to get ten grand? I need to get that cash. Whatever it takes.

CHAPTER EIGHT

* EEVIE *

On my drive home from work today I take a different route, which takes me in the direction of the local police station. As I approach, there are two uniformed officers milling around a vehicle out front. Can one of them help me? Should I pull over? I slow down, and scout around for a car spot when the words
keep your mouth shut and your
precious
boyfriend won’t get hurt
pop into my head.

Fuck. Are they following me now? I look in my rear-view mirror, and wonder if the white sedan behind me was the same one from a few traffic lights back. A white car drives past me. There are fucking white cars everywhere; I have no clue.

Stupid. I’m so stupid.

I grip the steering wheel tight in my sweaty palms and drive home as fast as I can.

I need to get the money.

Snuggled into the couch, I swallow down the cold dregs of my fifth coffee for the day. I’ve barely slept since the last call, the caffeine the only thing keeping me from falling asleep at work.

“So, I was going to sell my car, how much do you think I’d get for it?”

“Why would you wanna sell it? You need a car,” Aidan says, rolling his eyes back in his head as if I’ve just proposed the dumbest thing ever. He’s going to take more convincing than I’d thought.

I put the empty mug in the sink, preparing to justify why I have to sell it, without telling the truth.

“I’m a lot closer to the city now, and the bus is a lot cheaper than parking.” Lie.

“What’s going on Eevie? If you’re worried about paying the rent, I told you we’d sort that out when the bills come in. Don’t stress over it.” I don’t miss the annoyance in his tone.

I should tell him. I need to tell him, but for his own safety, I can’t. If
they
find out I blabbed, the deal will be off and my body will become public property on the net. But more importantly, Aidan could get seriously hurt.

My shoulders slump as I let out a long breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I say..

I’ve got a thousand-dollar limit, but my credit card is close to maxed out, and I’d be lucky to have a couple of thousand in the bank. I can’t have Aidan worrying about rent or bills. I’m paying my own way, whether he likes it or not.

Where’s the line when it comes to protecting the ones you love? But can you really protect them if you lie? Repeatedly? I have never been more torn.

Will I lose him when he finds out I lied? Because one day I
will
have to tell him. I can’t carry around the guilt. My future is with Aidan; he’s a part of me and I want a relationship based on trust and honesty.

The lies smoulder like burning coals in my stomach. The deeper into this mess I go, the brighter they burn, the white-hot flames singeing my heart.

****

“Saturday, three o’clock. Same place,” the same electronic voice demands. The voice that instils fear and dread.

“I haven’t got all the money. I need more time,
please
.” I try to hold back a flood of tears.

The end of the line is silent. For far too long.

“Someone will call you back,” he grunts. The line goes dead.

Fuck! What have I done?

I’ve done it. They’ll hurt him. Beads of sweat form on my brow, and my gut wrenches like I’ve just been stabbed with a jagged knife.

“You alright?” Cassie asks, as I make my way back into the office.

“Huh?” I mutter under my breath, trying to avoid eye contact.

“You look like shit.”
That might just be the out I need
.

“I’m not feeling that great, must have been something I ate.” Lie. Lie. Another lie.

“Why don’t you go home early? The office is deserted anyway.” She places a reassuring hand on my shoulder as I sit down.

“Yeah. I think I will.” Because if he calls again, and they demand the rest of the money and I don’t have it, who knows what’s next? What are these people capable of? Would they threaten to hurt me, or are they just using my biggest weakness, the love of my life, against me?

****

When I get home, I slip into a hoodie and trackpants and curl up with a blanket on the couch. I don’t have the headspace for
The Bold and the Beautiful
, so I flick it off and try to ignore the sharp pains in my chest that are slowly leaching out to the rest of my body. Are they watching Aidan right now? Are they watching me? I resist the compelling urge to check all the windows and doors for the third time since I got in the door. For fuck’s sake, it’s ridiculous in itself that I
had
to do it three times. And on top of that, I feel like smashing the closest thing to me because there’s not a single goddamn M&M in the whole house. My eyes grow heavy, the burden of keeping them open too much.

A loud shrill beside me snaps me to life. I rub my eyes, focusing on
Blocked Number
flashing on my phone display. Fuck. This is it.

I answer the call, even though it goes against every cell in my body.

“Hel-lo.” I manage to barely string the syllables together.

“Is that Miss Lawson?” a male voice asks, different to the altered voice I was preparing for. It sounds familiar somehow, but how could it?

“Yes.”

“Well, I’d say it was nice to speak with you, but the last time we spoke you rudely hung up on me.” Now it sinks in. How could I forget that voice? Gravelly, like he’s smoked one too many packs of cigarettes, and dark, not a trace of humour, letting me know he means business.

Mitchell Stone.
It’s him. He’s behind all of this. I didn’t want to believe that Aidan’s father could be responsible for something of this nature.

“What’s the deal with the money?” he barks.

“I haven’t been able to sell my car. I … I’ve got about three thousand, but that’s all I have.”

“Do ya
think
I’m playin’ games, girl?”

My heart thumps harder, the ache intensifying with each erratic beat. “No … I don’t.”

“Because I distinctly recall you were asked for ten.”

“I know … it’s just—”

“I tell you what,” he interrupts. “I’ll take what you have and we can the settle the balance of what you owe
another
way.”

No, no, no! This can’t be good.
What does he want? Money I can handle, but knowing they’ve seen me in some of the most intimate situations, I wouldn’t put it past these people to expect something else. I will draw the line if I am expected to do anything physical.

“What do you mean?” Dare I ask?

“I’ll give you the tape if you convince my son to meet with me.”

“Aidan?”

“Yes, Aidan. He
also
gave a rather noteworthy performance in the tape. Let’s just say I’m proud of him in more ways than one.”
What a low-life.

“I need time. I can’t convince him overnight. He wants nothing to do with you.”
And I completely understand why.

He lets out an evil chuckle. “You’re a talented woman. He’s certainly wrapped around your little finger. You’ll bring him round. I’ll give you two weeks. I’m not a patient man so
don’t
try and stall me. In two weeks, I want the three grand and a meeting with Aidan.”

The line goes dead.

Is this what he wanted all along? Aidan? Was it ever about the money, or did he just get me to the point where my fear made me so desperate I’d agree to anything?

I’m hanging by a delicate thread a silkworm would reject. I’m trapped within these four walls, terrified of what’s lurking outside them. What’s going to be next? Is this ever going to stop?

I go to the kitchen cupboard and stuff a couple of cheese crackers into my mouth. I’m not even hungry, but if I’m gonna fake a migraine, I can’t be getting out of bed later for snacks.

I text Aidan to forewarn him.

I’m not well, so am going to bed early.
There’s some leftover pasta for dinner x

He sends a text straight back.

Rest up. See you soon, baby

I get undressed and climb into bed, wrapping the blankets around me as if they’re going to save me. Protect me. I’ve never been more emotional or scared in my life. I break down and cry, and hope the release of each tear will help me cope. As my thoughts darken, my sobs grow louder. The enormity of this great big fucking mess weighs down on me.

I bury my head in my pillow to silence my cries. I wanna scream so loudly, with every pitiful ounce of energy I have left. I’ve never been one to pray, only having done it a few times when I’ve been at my worst, but right now I pray to whoever is listening to save us. To save Aidan from his father. A man, if you can call him that, who will do anything to get what he wants. I pray for the target to come off my back, when I’ve never done anything to hurt anyone. When I can’t shed another tear, sleep comes.

At some point in the night I wrestle with the sheets, but it’s Aidan’s strong arms that surround me. Guilt sweeps over me. I’ve lied too many times to count now. He doesn’t deserve that. Why can’t I tell him? Tiny needles stab at my heart every time I think I should. And I know in my heart I should. It brings me to the brink of tears again, but I hold my breath and clench my teeth, begging the tears not to come. If he wakes up to the sounds of my cries, and tries to comfort me, I won’t be able to stop. I blank out my thoughts, and focus on the sad beat of my heart until I drift off again.

****

When I wake the next morning, I feel hollow, but my head is somewhat clearer. The caffeine-high fog seems to have lifted now that I’ve managed to get some sleep.

Cassie. She’s the answer. For my sanity, at the very least.

She’s always good at taking my mind off things, and her boyfriend, Jeremy, is probably jetsetting around the world, so she’s likely to be home alone. A Friday pyjama night at Cassie’s will give me the distance I need—as much as it pains me to say it—from Aidan.

I shower and dress, and make a coffee for the drive in. I’m not in the mood to eat. When I get to work, I bail Cassie up in the kitchen.

“Hey gorgeous, you’re in early,” Cassie says, looking as fresh as you’d expect for someone
not
being blackmailed. She’s tucked her smooth burgundy hair into a French roll, her dark-grey square-neck dress hugging her to her knees.

“Hey, Cassie.”

“Your eyes are puffy as anything. Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Can I ask a favour?”

“Sure, what?”

“Are you doing anything tonight? Because I
really
need a girl’s night. A girl’s night in.”

“That’s sounds great. There’s a bottle of champagne in my fridge that’s been taunting me all week.”

The relief is almost instant; well, enough for me to breathe a little easier. Another night I don’t have to face Aidan while I sort this shit out. I’m fully aware that the clock is ticking, but maybe after tonight, with some headspace, I can work out exactly what I’m going to do.

I ring Aidan to give him plenty of notice. Just in case he’s got plans for dinner.

“Hey, baby. You feelin’ better? I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. The sleep did me a world of good.”
And the outpouring of emotion into my pillow.

“You needed it. You’ve been workin’ too hard.”

“Yeah, I know. If it’s okay with you, tonight I’m gonna stay at Cassie’s. We’re gonna sit around and watch hopeless romantic movies and drink champagne.”