When I grabbed my personal items, the driver, whose name I didn’t catch, told me to leave all clothes and only pack any sentimental objects.
After I looked around my shitty room, I knew there wasn’t much for me to take, so I filled a pillowcase, since I didn’t have any real luggage, with some picture frames, my mother’s jewelry that wasn’t completely destroyed by Hurricane Katrina and my art.
I sat in the buttery soft leather of the car and looked over at my sad pathetic pillowcase…that was my life. My entire life fit into a faded red pillowcase.
My fingers ran along the raised stitching of the back seat as I thought about how I had never in my life been in such a nice piece of machinery. The driver wore a suit, for fuck’s sake, and there was ice water readily available in the back of the car in case I was parched. This was a kind of living I was not used to. I was more used to drinking piss water from the crusty tap and riding around on the trolley or some paying man’s dick.
We drove down St. Charles Avenue, right in the heart of the Garden District. I watched beautiful pastel-colored houses pass by as I looked out the window. I knew the area by heart because it was where I came to get away from my life, to reconnect with my parents. Never did I think that I would be living here.
Before I left the apartment, I ran into Lyla, who could not have been happier for me. It seemed all so weird to me, that my friend was excited that I had an opportunity to be a part of some strange high class brothel, or at least that’s what I thought it was. I was nervous about her paying rent by herself, but she assured me Crystal was going to move in because she was evicted today; it seemed a little too coincidental, but I didn’t look too much into it because I had other things to worry about.
We turned down Jackson Street and I took in the trees that hung over the streets. They were my favorite part of the Garden District. The trees were rebels at heart because they all grew in their own way, their own direction. I couldn’t help but feel like the trees were my kindred spirit. I paused as I thought about it. Holy hell, I was losing it if I was feeling some kind of relation to some fucking trees.
The car slowed down as we pulled up to a grandiose white…mansion that was surrounded by what must be a seven-foot wrought iron and stone fence. White Pillars scattered the façade and each floor-to-ceiling window was framed by black shutters and had an oil lantern hanging in front it, giving the house an old New Orleans feel.
Flashy, garish, ornate…lavish were all words that crossed my mind as I took in my new dwellings. Even though I was as nervous as a virgin at prom, I couldn’t help but think this might just very well be the best day of my life.
The driver came around to my door and held it open for me. I took a deep breath and grabbed the man’s hand that he offered out to me. Standing against a tree, with the same hoodie and tight jeans, looking sexy as hell, was the man I met at the café, but instead of the stern look, he was wearing a bit of a smirk that said, “Told you so.” My stubborn bones wanted to punch him in the face and stalk off, but I know that wasn’t an option.
Looking at him and then up at the house again, I made a silent promise to myself. This was it, this was the chance I was looking for and, even though I had no clue what it entailed, I was going to give it my best shot because to hell if I was going to go back to my old life. I was never looking back on that life; I was only moving forward from here and I was moving forward with the help of the infamous Lafayette Club.
***
“You going to just keep staring at my crotch or do you want to move on inside?”
I was startled by the man’s voice. Was I really staring at his crotch? I know I was staring at something while thinking about my new life, but I didn’t think it was his crotch…was it?
I shrugged my shoulders and played it off. “Not much to stare at.”
He snorted and opened the gate that sat in the middle of the front yard. “Got your things?”
I held up my pillowcase and nodded. He shook his head and walked toward the front door. As I got closer to the house, I noticed just how enormous and intimidating the place was. I could do this, no matter how much I wanted to go cry in a corner and possibly pee my pants from nerves; I could do this.
The man held the door open to the house and I walked in, taking in the surroundings.
Rich…that was the only way to describe the house, it was made for the rich and privileged.
The walls were a deep grey and were magnificently outlined by thick white trim. A giant chandelier hung in the entryway that was circled by a curved black staircase. The décor was minimal, but also classically modern. I looked like a whore in church; I didn’t belong at all. I was a contradiction, with my ratty shoes and pillowcase luggage, to the extravagance of the house.
“Seriously?” I asked, as I looked around. “This place is so beautiful.”
“I can give you a tour in the morning. Let’s get you settled upstairs in your room.”
I didn’t follow him as he started to walk up the stairs.
“Are you coming?” He was rather moody, but it only played to his sex appeal, which was an annoying and kind of disturbing revelation on my end.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me your name.”
The man got off the stairs and came to me with his hand extended. “I’m Kace Haywood.”
I took his hand in mine and said, “It’s nice to meet you Kace. Now, was that so hard?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t let go of my hand and pulled me toward the stairs as the beat of a song filtered through the air. It was coming from the back of the house, which I couldn’t see, but intrigued me.
“Wait, what’s that?” I asked, as I tried to catch a glimpse of where the music was coming from, but he continued to drag me up the stairs.
“The girls are practicing.”
“The Jett Girls?” I asked, while leaning over the banister and trying to see anything that would clue me into what I got myself into.
“Will you cut it out? Jesus, I don’t need you cracking your head open from being a dumbass.” He grabbed my waist and lifted me over his shoulder as he continued up the stairs.
“Hey! What the fuck? Put me down. Are you mental?” I beat against his back, his hard, muscular back, to put me down.
When we got to the top of landing, he set me down. I flailed my legs as he put me down, causing me to fall on my ass. I quickly got up, grabbed my pillowcase and brushed my jeans off, as if I didn’t just completely embarrass myself. Always had to keep one ounce of pride intact.
“Are you insane? You can’t just go around manhandling me.”
“I can do whatever I want, sweetheart. I’m in charge of you and if I tell you to keep moving, you keep moving. There are rules in this house and you are not going to like the outcome if you don’t follow them.”
I put a hand on my hip as I looked him up and down. “Is that right? What are you going to do? Spank me?”
A smirk ran across his face, but then it disappeared as quickly as it came. “I won’t.”
He continued to walk down a long hallway and I obediently followed him, not because he said so, but because it was a little dark in the hallway and I was in a strange house; I was a little nervous.
“What does that mean, you won’t?”
“It means, I won’t.”
“But someone else will? Is this some kind of creepy sexual boarding school?”
He spun around on his heels and got inches from my face. I could feel the heat pouring off of him as he spoke in a stern voice. “You’re asking an awful lot of nosy questions for someone who should shut their trap and be grateful for the lucky-ass hand they just drew. Now, come on, I don’t have time for you to fuck around. I have a hot redhead waiting in my room with her legs spread.”