Chapter 4

Monday nights are always the slowest. No one's been in and so far I've spent most of my shift cleaning and scrolling aimlessly on my phone. I think I've seen two people in the four hours I've been here. Thankfully, Kevin texted earlier and told me I could close at midnight if there were still no patrons. I'm just counting down the minutes until then.

I'm standing on the bar, wiping the ceiling fan blades when the door opens. Two men walk in and my belly swoops. As I climb down, I take a second glance at them and breathe a sigh of… well, I don't really know. It's not relief, because part of me yearns to see them. But another part is scared because it's been so long and I don't know what I'd say.

Atlas and Ripley were my family for such a short time, and I thought that Rip would be the one to force Ali to settle down. Be the reason she got sober, because I wasn't ever a good enough one.

I was wrong, though. Her drinking and shooting up never stopped. Instead, she got more creative in hiding it from her new husband. Then he caught her with Drivvy and everything blew up. I prayed and begged God to let me stay with Rip and Atlas. Ali never wanted me and she sure wasn't a mom, so I was hopeful she'd forget me and I'd finally have a normal life.

God wasn't on my side, though. I came home from school the next day and all our shit was packed. I asked if I could stay and finish the school year, but Ali only laughed and asked who would pay for that. She dragged me from the only stable and nice house I've ever lived in and dumped me at Grandma's while she ran off to play with her druggie friends.

I guess saying it was the only stable home is a lie. Grandma was always good to me and I loved staying there, but she shouldn't have had to raise me. She did though and when she died, I was heartbroken, almost as broken as I was the day we left Rip's.

"How's it going tonight, fellas?" I ask, throwing my rag in the bucket of soapy water I use for cleaning the ceiling and fans.

"Two Miller Lites," the older one tells me, both of them sitting on a barstool.

I flash a smile and head to the cooler with the drinks in it, pulling out two cans of Miller. As I walk back over to them, I crack each one open and sit them in front of them on a napkin.

"Five dollars."

"You take a card?" the younger one asks.

"No sir. Only cash. The ATM is right behind ya, though, so you can pull some out." He looks around to where I nod and gets up, heading over to it to withdraw some money. "Here ya go." He slides a twenty over the bar to me when he gets back. "Keep the change."

"Thank you."

Now that I've been up close to them, they don't look like Atlas or Ripley at all.

Well, I guess I don't know what Atlas would look like all grown up. I was sixteen when we left and I doubt he's still the baby-faced boy he was.

Sometimes I wonder why he didn't contact me after I left. Maybe he was mad at me for what my mom did. Or maybe all those times we hung out and acted like we were besties were fake? But I thought for sure he'd call my phone, send a damn email, hell he had his license. He could have come to Grandma's. I thought about reaching out, but Ali and Grandma forbid it for reasons she wouldn't share. While I couldn't care less what Ali said, I respected Grandma's wishes.

When Grandma passed, I didn't feel like I had to obey her anymore, plus I was an adult, but it'd been so long and he didn't reach out either so why would I, if he wasn't interested in staying in touch?

No point in dwelling on it now. I'm twenty-three. It's been seven years and they've been nowhere to be seen. I'll unpack that in therapy someday when I can afford it. Until then, it's tucked away like the rest of my childhood involving Ali to be dealt with later.

"Thanks for the beers, Sweetheart. Have a good night," the one gentleman calls as they stand up and drop some more singles on the bar.

"Thank you! You too. Drive safe."

I grab their empties and napkins, throwing them in the trash then grab the rag and wipe the bar where they sat.

My phone vibrates loudly on the bar behind me and I walk over, sit down on the stool, and see it's an email.

It's from the Night to Remember people. My stomach turns and my hands start to shake. I don't know why I'm nervous. A few nights ago, I didn't even know this auction existed. But now I've already mentally spent the money and am living my life free and happy. Grandma always said not to count your chickens before they hatch. That ship has sailed. I've counted all five hundred thousand chickens and don't have an egg in sight… yet.

Clicking the email, my eyes widen.

Miss Sloane,

We'd love to have you in our auction. You are just what we and our buyers are looking for. There are a few things we need to take care of before we offer you the official invitation. Attached are some forms you'll need to fill out. It is important to be honest. We have ways of checking the information. You will need to go to the address listed below and get a complete physical, including an STD test and HCG test. You will also get your choice of birth control.

Regards,

Night to Remember

Holy fucking shit!

I'm in. Well, not totally since this isn't the official invite according to the email, but I'm assuming unless I fail one of the tests at the clinic or lie on my forms, I'm good to go.

I can't believe I'm going to fuck for money… money is money though, and I'm not ashamed of how I'm going to attain it.

That house is going to be mine.

With a deep breath, I open the first form; it's a questionnaire.

Alright, that's easy enough to fill out, and no one is here, so I get to it. The top is the basic shit; name, sex, relationship status, sexual orientation, etc….

They get a little more personal in the middle and I wonder why they want to know some of these things, but whatever. It asks if I smoke, my highest level of education, am I an introvert or extrovert?

The bottom is where they ask the shit I was expecting.

Why do I want to be in the auction?

To buy my grandma's old house and maybe get my life together.

What are your kinks?

Not sure of them all since I'm still finding new ones. But definitely spanking, choking, and spitting.

Do you have any hard limits?

No permanent body mutilation, no scat play, no rape play. No means no in my book.

Okay. A few more random questions and the form is done. Now all I have to do is go to the clinic and get the physical and tests.

Tomorrow is my day off, so I'll go as soon as I wake up. That way it's done and they can get the results. I'm hoping being so quick about it will show whoever's in charge that I'm serious.

I send the email back with my form and a few more pictures of me, full body, and all angles. That way, they know my body measurements are accurate or pretty damn close.

Looking at the clock, I see it's half past midnight and I've been alone since the two friends came in earlier to order Miller Lites.

I lock the doors, switch off the open sign, and start closing my drawer.

Tomorrow can't come soon enough.