“Are we ready?” A deep French accent comes from the threshold to the lounge.
The butler, who we only know as Louis, steps up to us with the four leashes and collars in hand. He first collars the lads, then, he comes towards me. Lifting my hair, I wait for the soft leather to encircle my neck.
Missy is last, and then, we’re led like dogs into a room where we find the men who have been here repeatedly over the few months since I arrived. All of them are dressed in their best tailored suits. Some in black and others in navy blue, all with crisp white shirts and ties that pop against the stark colours of their jackets.
Andre Laurent, our owner, smiles when he sees us. Our black outfits—that barely cover anything at all—clearly please him. The butler takes us to him. Without a word, Louis hands over the leashes and leaves us with the men.
I’m not sure what celebration it is tonight. It’s nearing Christmas, which is in a few days. I used to love the festive season, but it’s become something of a nightmare, and I no longer want to think about the good times. It’s as if they were merely a dream, and the nightmare is real.
“Gentlemen,” Andre says, calling attention to us. “I’m sure you remember my sweet pets,” he tells the guests. “Since the end of the Savage regime, I’ve slowly taken over and changed how things are run. Volkov may want things to be different in Russia, but I don’t agree with his practices.”
“You’re going against the Bratva?” One man looks shocked at this, and I can’t deny the mention of the Russian mafia doesn’t instil me with calm.
“I am taking a stance,” he says. “We have people watching us. The FBI are closing in on the Russians. I haven’t told them because I want their business.”
“What about those clowns who call themselves the Fallen?” another man asks before sipping on his red wine. There is refinement in this room. Elegance. But just like the house, there is a sinister core, which is slowly rotting away.
“They’re nowhere near finding us. We’ve led them on a wild goose chase. I think we should set up the new auction to celebrate the holidays.”
“Come.” Andre tugs at our leashes and we follow behind. We know what’s about to happen. The four of us lower to our knees. There may not be violence tonight, but there are other things that happen, which sends revulsion through me. We are here to entertain, to do their bidding, and we’ll most likely be intimate with each other so they can appreciate the show. “It’s time to enjoy ourselves. We will talk auctions later.”
“Sir,” one guard calls to Andre. “New delivery from Bragan,” he says as he steps aside and they pull a girl into the room. She’s got long blond hair that hangs in tangled waves down her back. Her pale skin is shimmering, and since the guards are also drenched, it seems it must have rained. I watch her shiver as she regards the room, dressed in only a pair of denim shorts and a white top that has now gone see-through. Her bra, a bright pink colour, is clearly visible.
“What do we have here?” Andre stops inches from her. He tips the gilr’s head back as he assesses her. His touch causes her to shudder and shake. And yet, she doesn’t speak. “What is your name,chérie?”
THREE
TYE
I pullup the photo I’ve kept of Einin. It’s been sittin’ on my computer desktop for as long as I can remember. And when it opens, I stare at her smilin’ face.
The fair has broughtthe crowds to Ballycastle. Lammas has been a tradition in Ballycastle since before I was born, bein’ held here for about four hundred years. The town comes alive, and the people who sell their goods are eager to make money. Even though the town itself has a fair few tourists throughout the year, this is one of the biggest days when we can show off what we’re made of.
Most tourists who pass through come to visit the Giant’s Causeway, but this is an event closer to the heart. Somethin’ the people of the town can do to reap the benefits.
“Are we goin’ta get some sweets? Ma wants me to get the fresh bread, but then I’ll have to run it home before we head to the beach,” Einin says as she looks up at me. She’s stood beside me, just like she always is.
We met when we were kids. Not exactly neighbours, but close enough that I would see her from my bedroom window when she was playin’ in her ma’s garden.
“Aye, we’ll get sweets and bread,” I tell her. “Then we’ll take the loaves home to yer ma before comin’ back out. I think the lads are goin’ta the beach now, anyway. We can join them later.”
“I’m goin’ta get the soda bread fer Ma.” Einin wades off through the crowds, her bright pink jumper standin’ out, so I can thankfully find her once I’m done here.
I stop at the stall with the best sweets and cakes. But there, on the table amongst the delicious lookin’ items, is what I’m lookin’ for. Yellaman sits waitin’ for me and I smile. The honeycomb toffee that’s one of Einin’s favourites is what I’m gettin’ her. The stuff is far too sweet fer my likin’.
I buy two small bags and head off to find her. On my way, I stop at a stall that has rings, and for a long while, I stare at one of them. The wee stone shimmers with blue and green patterns.
“What are yer wantin’ fer that one?” I ask as I stare at the pretty ring.
The older man glances to where I’m pointin’ and smiles. “Fer ye, I’ll make it fifty pound.” It’s all my savin’s. “All right,” he says as he watches my expression. “I’ll do it for forty. How’s that sound?”
“Grand.” I can’t stop smilin’. Einin will love it. She’s into all these crystals and shite.
Once I’ve completed the transaction, I go to find her. But before she can spy the present, I hide the ring in my pocket. I’ll give it to her tonight. And then I’ll make a promise I have been wantin’ to tell her fer a wee while now.
All I can hope is she’s not goin’ta think I’m an eejit.
I shakemy head free of the memory while I pull open my desk drawer. There, in the wee box, is the ring I bought. It’s been there ever since I moved into the club. And it will stay there until I think she’s ready.