Chapter 3

three

SYDNEY

I take a drink that’s offered to me. It’s in a martini glass with red and green sprinkles around the rim. When Louis takes a sip of his, he smacks his lips and hums.

“A sugar cookie martini. Could they be more on point for this event?” Louis preens as he walks in, basically abandoning me. He’s clearly already got someone in mind as he goes straight to a tall Black man wearing a fedora. No shade, he looks great in it, but who wears a hat inside? Their open-mouthed kiss tells me that Louis isn’t the only one with plans for tonight. Which, am I really surprised? It’s a sex party.

I take a sip of my drink and nearly spit it back out. It’s too sweet, and I think, rimmed with icing? Blech. Ollie turns to look at me when a woman approaches holding a bowl of keys.

“I don’t have to put my keys in here,” Ollie offers, looking at me, and I fight a wince.

“Do it, Ollie. Live a little.”

I pat his arm and move into the room. I glance around, trying to see if I recognize anyone else in attendance, and I’m unsure how to feel about the faces I do recognize. Fran?ois is sitting in a chair surrounded by his sycophants, including Carmen, who is perched on the edge of her chair, ignoring her boyfriend’s existence. Fran?ois' hand is stroking the inside of her knee, and Carmen is practically panting from the foreplay.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the chick with the key bowl set it to the side before picking up a platter laden with drinks to pass around. As we walked in, I saw all the brand names on the expensive cars. Surely someone has something in them that they wouldn’t miss, but ducking outside is risky.

I focus on the room around me, at all the men and women here tonight. None of the men who have arrived have really drawn me to them except for one, but the chances of drawing that key seem low. If I’m going to be really open to this experience, I need to be open to the possibility of drawing any key here, even if it’s not a certain deputy’s key.

“Hello, gorgeous,” a man I don’t recognize says as he approaches me. He sets his hand on my hip possessively, and I find I really hate the feeling. I have to fight the urge to barf in my mouth, so I take a large pull from my drink, but it only makes the feeling worse. “I’m hoping you’re one of the lucky ladies who gets to pull a key later. Or are you one of the extras?”

I clear my throat and look up at him. He’s not a bad-looking guy and theoretically I could be having sex with someone in this room at some point, but the only person I want it to be is Dennis. But that feels wrong to want. He’s in a committed relationship with a sociopath, and while I would love to see her relationship implode, I’m not sure I could deal with being a homewrecker.

Then again, they’re at a key party with a bunch of swingers, so maybe they’re into sharing. For one minute, I let the fantasy unspool. How it would feel to ride Dennis’s cock or to give over control to him and let him take me from behind, bent over some –

“Did you hear me?” Mr. Mystery asks. “Are you pulling keys or are you a bonus player?”

“What is a bonus player?” I ask for clarity when I should probably ask his name.

“They’re someone who is just here to maybe join in someone else's activities.”

Right, so Louis. “No, I’ll be drawing a key.”

His hand falls down to my ass and gives it a squeeze. It’s sad to say, but he’s not the first guy to grab my ass without asking for consent, though he is probably the first guy whose net worth exceeds that of my entire town. I’m also, as I have to keep reminding myself, at a party for sex. Maybe there is an unspoken rule I’m unaware of that makes this okay. Then I banish the thought. Nothing would make it okay.

“I drive the Porsche.” He winks at me before moving along to the next woman who seems a lot more into his attention as she grabs the lapel of his coat. A Porsche in this area at this time of year? He’s asking for a tow bill.

Nope, this whole scene is not for me. When I look up, I see Dennis has found a spot on a loveseat out of the way of everyone. There’s an Asian woman who I’ve seen notice him, and I’m ashamed to admit I practically sprint across the room to beat her to him. When she sees me slide onto the arm rest next to him, she changes direction and I breathe. That’s when I realize he’s let out the same deep exhalation I did.

“Come here often?” I ask, trying one last sip of my drink before placing it on a tray with a roving server.

Dennis looks up at me, a laugh crinkling the edges of his eyes, but he doesn’t make a sound. He just gives me a smile.

“Would you believe me if I said never?” he says honestly, and I have to respect that about him, even if his girlfriend is the literal fucking worst human ever.

“You? Mr. By the Book? ”

Dennis’s eyes shift past me, and for half a breath I think I lost him and I’m kicking myself for being needlessly mean. Instead, he raises his hand and flags down a server to trade his empty glass for a fresh one.

“That would be correct. I have never done anything remotely like this.”

His words have me reevaluating everything I think I know about him. Everything has been such a contradiction. I know that he’s a deputy in town and he’s supposedly one of the good guys, but how good can you be if you can’t see past the farce Carmen puts forward?

“Then maybe you should slow down. The whole point is being able to perform later.” I look down at his crotch, and I totally shouldn’t have because I can see where he’s stretching the nice fabric of his pants. He grabs a handful of fabric and tugs it, clearly trying to hide the boner he was sporting, and now I’m the one blushing. I clear my throat. “How did you get roped into this, anyway? Shouldn’t you be proposing to Carmen or something?”

This doesn’t seem to be any safer because he gives a grunt of…confirmation? Annoyance? I don’t know him well enough to decode what he’s trying to communicate. Once in a while I’ll see him at the coffee shop, but he’s a punctual man, so whenever he comes in, I find a reason to be in the back no matter how busy we are. Is it unfair to my coworkers? Totally, but it’s like every time I see him in his uniform with the handcuffs clipped to his utility belt, I want to admit to some crime I didn’t commit just so he would slap the cuffs on me.

“We’re waiting for her to get more established in her career before getting married.” His words sound almost automatic. He shifts on the couch again and as he moves his arm to rest behind me, his hand grazes my side. Unlike with Mr. Porsche, this time, I feel my whole body tingle at the contact. But ever the gentleman, Dennis moves his arm so he’s not touching me at all. He’s at a fucking sex party, and his girlfriend is humping the arm of Fran?ois’s chair, but he doesn’t want to touch me.

Maybe I should take that as more of a hint. Maybe it’s not the sex party he’s having a problem with, but me.

“I’m going to go get another drink,” I nearly snap as I get off the couch.

The look of confusion on his face is gone in a flash.

I try to mingle more, grabbing that drink and talking to a few of the guys and the girls before slipping off to the bathroom. Carmen, Dennis, Ollie, Louis, and I all seem to be the only people from town at this party, which is fine by me, but also awkward. We keep circling each other, trying to make nice with the rich assholes who came to this party. Well, except for Louis and Carmen, who are practically an opening act to what to expect tonight.

I look at myself in the mirror and blow a puff of air up, ruffling my bangs. No one in this place would notice a few things missing. Maybe Louis was right and I could steal a small item or two and pawn them off. I’m not destitute by any stretch of the imagination. My income as a barista is enough for me to pay my rent and the occasional online impulse purchase. Further, I’m lucky that I don’t have student loans hanging over my head. I was smart enough to land a full ride, and my grandparents left me enough of an inheritance to pay for the rest of college. What was left over went to help my parents with medical bills, leaving me with a meager safety net that covers one month of rent.

It would be nice to have just a little more for this family. Get those girls their own new doll each, maybe get mom something for herself and dad a new drill or whatever gets men excited.

When I come out of the bathroom, I notice Dennis has two women crooning over him. And whatever about that. I’m irrationally annoyed because, duh. The whole point of this party is to maybe have sex with a random person. Who knows who will draw his key tonight?

The keys.

I glance over at where the bowl is left unattended in the entrance for anyone to plunder. Before I can think better of it, I reach into the bowl, grab a key, and walk outside.

Big fucking mistake. The temperature is dropping and I can smell snow in the air. When I glance up at the sky, I see the bright moon illuminating the way. It’s one thing I love about where we are now. Once upon a time, I dreamed of being one of those shark experts, but life had other plans. My college in Florida was surrounded by too much light pollution caused by nearby theme parks so that nights like this, when you can lift your face to the sky and see the stars, were rare. In the summers, I try and make time to go out to Evergreen Lake just to stare at the sky at night.

Tonight, I bask in the feeling of smallness before the cold starts to nip at me. Carefully, I press the button on the keys to unlock the door, and I see lights flash just down the driveway far enough from the front door I don’t think anyone will notice the lights turning on. Ah, the Porsche.

I walk over and climb into the driver’s side door before I can think twice. The car is filthy. I mean, my car is also messy, but when you drive a car that costs more than twice the average American salary, you should keep it clean. I want to just steal the car on principle, but I’m not that stupid or desperate.

My heart stutters as I sit in a lush leather seat, because this is not who I am. I’m not a thief. Stealing from some unsuspecting man feels wrong. It’s like I’m just living up to the expectation my parents have of me. In their minds, I’m still the rebellious teen who cut just enough classes to not get into trouble while maintaining straight As. My mom’s constant reminders that I need to make something of my life or else I won’t find a partner echo in my mind while I sit here. It’s too late now. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that.

Any need I felt toward being cautious is thrown to the wind. This guy figuring out something is missing is going to be next to impossible. There are fast food wrappers, and by the smell that’s emanating from the bag in the back seat, either a dead body or old gym clothes. My gaze skims for items of value, noting a Macbook sitting on the passenger seat and a Louis Vuitton scarf tied around the headrest. Taking something so out in the open would be foolish, so I feel around under the seat while I continue to inventory the other items in plain view. I pull up a diamond-encrusted cufflink. Just the right thing to take.

It feels so heavy in my hand and I don’t know if it’s the proverbial weight of my decision or if the metal of it is really just that heavy. If it’s the latter, it’s no wonder he lost it. It could easily have fallen between the seats without his notice. Setting it into the cupholder, I keep feeling around in the car. I find two tablets. One turns on easily. The other one is dead, but I put them back where I found them, shoved under the passenger seat.

The center console has a tennis bracelet with a broken clasp, and fuck me. I slowly thumb out the cash, and when I pass ten hundred dollar bills, I feel my soul leave my body. I put that away quickly, but there’s cash in rolled receipts all over the floor, and the whole thing keeps making me feel more and more icky.

I can’t do this. Stealing isn’t me. It was never going to be me no matter how shitty Mr. Porsche is, and no matter how badly there are other families in need. If I wasn’t possibly going to sleep with this guy tonight, there’s no way I could just ask for the money. It feels too cheap, too tawdry .

Not that there is any making sure everything is where I left it, but I carefully place the cash in the center console. The temptation to slide just one bill in my dress is strong, but I know I’ll feel better if I don’t.

I slide my cold hands along my boobs to make sure I didn’t take any of the money after I practically blacked out after counting. Once I’m sure I’m in the clear, I click the car light off. Desperate to be away from the scene of the crime, I open the car door, pressing the lock button so I don’t have to hit the button on the keys.

But when I look up there is a dark hulking form blocking the light of the moon, and I fight my scream, desperate to not be found out for my crime.