HOSTEL
Chapter Twenty One — Baggage Check
If it’s brown, drink it down.
It was a silly rhyme. Rebecca wasn’t even sure where she’d first heard it; maybe from a TV show, maybe from someone in high school, not that it mattered much. If it’s brown, drink it down. Every time she hoisted a shot, the phrase would come back to her, gently tickling her brain like a childhood lullaby.
“If it’s brown, drink it down,” she said, gazing into her shot glass, steeling her guts for what was about to come rushing through them. She squinted and crinkled her nose as she raised her glass, puckering her lips as the bourbon arrived. Drink it down, drink it down. Her first attempts at doing shots almost always ended with booze on the floor and a lot of coughing and hacking, but Rebecca was an old pro at things now, and she slapped the empty glass against the bar with a satisfying clack.
“Oh fuck, I needed that,” she said through clenched teeth, as she waited for her toes and fingers to uncurl. The inferno in her stomach settled into a nice cozy fire, and she tapped the shot glass. “Maybe one more. I could do one more.”
“Andy’s dad is gonna be pissed if we drink all of his booze, Rebecca.” The blonde stepped around the bar as she pulled her hair back with both hands, giving Rebecca a great look at her spectacular body. “Hey, eyes up here,” she deadpanned, placing an index finger against her cute, stylish eyeglasses.
Rebecca laughed. “I bet you say that to all the girls, Missy.” She patted the bar stool next to her, trying not to look as insanely nervous as she felt. She’d been waiting for some alone time with Missy since… since when? At least since Orientation. No, Chad’s blowout party in August, Jesus…
“Just the pervy ones.” Missy leaned against Rebecca as she climbed onto the stool, hearing but choosing to ignore Rebecca’s happy, stifled yelp. “I’ve seen the way you—whoa! Shit, these stools are wobbly as fuuuuck! You know what? I’m gonna fall off of this on purpose and then sue Andy’s dad for all of his millions. Or his Porsche.” Her pretty hazel eyes sparkled as she examined the stubby bottle next to Rebecca. “So what is this nasty stuff?”
“Bourbon! The brownest of the brown liquors.” Rebecca gently slipped the bottle from Missy’s hand, grinning as her fingers slid against the blonde’s soft, perfect skin. She pulled the cork free and poured herself another shot. “I dunno, I heard that it’s way less fattening than beer. Plus, you get drunk faster. So two good things!”
Missy frowned. “My grandfather drank bourbon. Gross.”
Missy was beautiful when she frowned, but that was only when she was frowning at other things. Ugly shoes. Bad music. Bar-bros. Frowning at Rebecca wasn’t sexy at all. It was much closer to terrifying.
“I… come on, give it a try,” she stammered, hoping against hope that she could at least get a shot out of the girl. “You’ll never go back to cheap beer after this. Promise.”
“Fine, but if I barf later, I’m coming after you!”
“Fair. Here, one shot.” Rebecca swept her free hand across the bar. “It’s on the house!”
Missy’s pretty frown vanished behind a series of giggles. She lifted the glass to her lips, sniffed, then set it down again. “Damn, that stuff is strong!”
Just enough to get you tipsy. Enough to let your guard down. Rebecca shifted on her stool and felt the reassuring bulk of her sparkly new pendant press against her thigh. Just enough to show you my… wait… The blonde was looking at the mouth of Rebecca’s shot glass, carefully examining it with the same curious enthusiasm she brought to all of their biology classes.
That scientific curiosity. Words of wisdom from The Great Trancini. The more curious a person is, the easier it is to get them to focus on your voice and your induction.
It gave her an idea, a crazy one, but after five months of practice… she extended her hand, shot glass curled in her fingers, and held it in front of Missy’s face. She gave it a slight shake, slightly enough so that the Missy wouldn’t notice, and just enough to affect the shot glass. The bourbon inside danced and twirled. The blonde’s eyes danced a little as well.
“Here’s a little secret,” she said. “Here’s what I did when I first started drinking the hard stuff. Take a deep breath first, and let it out. Get your stomach ready. Ready? Go.”
Missy’s lovely chest heaved as she pulled in as much air as she could. It escaped from her lungs slowly, pushing through her ruby-red lips with a gentle phooooooofff. Her body slumped from the effort. “Ready.”
“Good. You’re doing good. Now you look at the glass and say, ‘If it’s brown, drink it down.’”
“Pffft… what?” Missy giggled hard enough to make herself wobble. She pressed her hands against the wood surface. “That’s corny.”
“Stare at the glass. Stare at the booze, and say it. Trust me.”
“If it’s brown, drink it down,” said Missy. She stared into the shot glass. “Okay.”
“Just keep saying it.” Rebecca began moving the shot glass in tiny circles. “If it’s brown, drink it down.”
“If it’s brown, drink it down.” Her eyes widened. “If it’s… brown…”
“Focus on the glass, Missy. Focus on the bourbon. Keep your eyes on it. Breathe slowly. Deeply.” She swirled the glass more aggressively. You can do this Rebecca look at her eyes holy shit you can do this. “Drink it down, Missy. Down. Down. Deeper. Down.”
“Down… yeah…” Missy’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, lost in the shot glass. Sparkles of light glinted off the glass, off the bourbon, off the edges of her eyeglasses. Her head drooped forward as she leaned against the bar. “Down… watch it… down…”
“Eyes so heavy, Missy. Eyes so heavy. Down. Down. Down.”
Her fluttering eyelids nearly caused Rebecca to cum on the spot. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Brown… down… brown… down…”
Rebecca reached out with her free hand, terrified and excited and flabbergasted all at the same time. If she was right, she was one touch away from making five months of hot dreams come true. One touch, and the hot blonde from her biology class—the one she’d chased all the way to this tiny college—would be hers. Or, the touch would break the spell, Missy would put two and two together, and she’d live out her college days as The Girl with the Hypnosis Fetish. Either way, she was two inches from determining the next four years of her life.
“Brown… down… brown… down…” Missy’s eyes were sleepy little slots, barely focused on the shimmering glass in front of her.
I never thought it would be this easy, Rebecca told herself.
Why not? You’re the best at it, right?
Her index finger sank into Missy’s forehead as she prayed for a miracle.
Snap.
The shift was instantaneous. Sleepy, mindless, obedient Grace vanished, and in her place was the saucy bartender that all of the men—and probably half of the women—in Berlin were already madly in love with. Her trained eyes quickly zoomed in on the empty glass in front of Rebecca.
“Whatcha drinkin’, boss? Lemme get you another. You look like shit!”
Rebecca attempted a laugh, but it sputtered into a sloppy, nasal snort. “Ugh. I feel like shit, too.” She placed her hand on her injured leg and winced. Being warm, dry, and slightly tipsy was doing nothing to chase away the pain, physically or mentally.
Fresh bourbon spilled into her glass. Grace added a second glass to the first and filled it as well. “Hey, your friend Emily’s passed out in the back room. Peter got her a pillow from somewhere. Do you want to get her back to her hotel room?”
“No, she’s…” The bartender’s memories of the fight outside were freshly scrubbed from her mind, but Emily herself would be harder to erase. Every trip they made to grab a box of napkins or a clean towel brought Peter and Grace face-to-face with her unconscious friend. She held up two fingers. “Listen carefully to my voice, Grace. You’re not worried about Emily. Obey.”
The bartender zoned out for a second, then shook her head and smiled. “I’m not worried about Emily. She can sleep it off here tonight. If she’s up for it, I’ll take her back home after my shift.”
“Thanks, Grace.” She held up her glass, if it’s brown, drink it down then set it back down. “You know what though? I think I’m done drinking tonight.”
“Suit yourself,” said Grace, whisking both glasses away with the flair of a stage magician. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? I’d rather chat with you than the rest of these drunks. I mean, I looooove it here! Don’t fire me!”
Then she was gone, laughing and swishing her alluring hips as she made her way over to a group of appreciative German boys. Rebecca watched her flirt with them for a moment. It all seemed so effortless for her. A wink, a bit of cleavage, a happy laugh, and a dazzling smile, and they were eating out of her hand. Literally, if Grace would let them. The blue-haired beauty didn’t need a pendant to mesmerize anyone. She had looks, and confidence, and those were more than enough.
Rebecca pulled the pendant from her pocket and set it on the table. The lights from the dance floor made it sparkle. “So many eyes… do you know how many eyes have stared into you, little buddy?” She looked around the club and sighed. “Maybe too many.”
Peter wandered over. He had a glass in one hand and a towel in the other, setting them both down on the bar as he placed a hand next to hers. “Alter Schwede! Was hast du gemacht?”
“Huh?”
He leaned in closer. “I said, what did you do? You look like you were just in a big fight!”
Shhh! Peter! But no one heard him but Rebecca. At the end of the bar, Grace was filling glasses. The two girls to her left snickered as they traded secrets in low whispers. There was no one to her right, and she let herself spread out across the bar a bit, grateful for the breathing room. “Ugh,” she finally said, looking Peter in the eyes. “Emily and I… it’s a long story, Peter.” She leaned forward, matching his posture, until their heads were nearly touching. “Alice sent me here. We’re in big trouble, and I don’t know what to do. Someone took the hostel, and Alice. She said you’d know what to do, and I hope to God you do, because I’m all out of ideas! And Emily just… she just…”
“I don’t know what to do,” she concluded, leaning back and burying her face in her hands. “We’re fucked. I’ve lost everyone and everything. I lost my friend, I lost my girlfriend, my stuff… and now I need to hide out here until my plane leaves and I don’t…”
“Quatsch,” he muttered, tapping the bar with his fingertips. “But you’ll be safe here.” He pointed to the growing crowd on the dance floor. “Too many people, and also we’re looking out for you.”
“I know,” she said. Tears filled her eyes and choked her throat. “But Alice…”
“Alice is… she has resources. Resourceful. She’s resourceful. Nobody beats her, Rebecca. She is always ten steps ahead.”
Not this time. Because I screwed her up. I screw everything up. “She said that if I came here you’d know what to do next, so I’m really hoping you’ve got, like, a secret tunnel to the airport in the basement or something.” Her face crumpled as he shrugged. “Goddammit, Peter, I needed something to cling to!”
Out came the bottle of bourbon again. He set it down next to his glass, ignoring her pleading stare. “Alice works in a tough business. And that’s just running this place! Never mind the other things that she does.” He poured a generous amount and, to Rebecca’s surprise, treated himself to it. “When Alice says that she has a plan, she has ten more. Trust me. One time, she—oh, and there she is now! See? All is well.”
“Alice is here? Now?”
It felt as if someone had removed the floor from Club Trabant and dangled Rebecca’s body over the gaping hole, lead weights tied to her arms, legs, and stomach. The bourbon in her belly bubbled into her throat, and she swallowed hard as she forced herself to turn around.
Her eyes picked out Celeste first, her long brown hair tangled and soaked, hanging lumpy against what looked like one of Emily’s jackets. Even from the bar, Rebecca could make out the blank look on her face. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she marched into the center of the room. Behind her were Alice, Amanda, and Edwin, all looking much more animated and awake than her girlfriend. The pit in her stomach deepened as she realized that Alice had, as predicted, failed to capture their new enemies. Instead, the Irish woman was now a mindless puppet.
A puppet that, at that very moment, was pointing straight at her.
Rebecca slowly eased herself off of her bar stool.
The other hostel girls entered the club one at a time—the bouncer was finally at his post, checking IDs from around the world and grumbling over nearly all of them—and once inside, spread across the club. To anyone else in the room, they were just another busload of young women accompanied by their three older chaperones, bubbling with excitement. Only Rebecca noticed the emptiness behind their eyes, the just-painted smiles on their pretty faces, or the determined way they threw themselves at their assigned tasks. “Act as if you are awake, but remain deeply asleep.”
Helene and Juliette quickly shed their jackets and stormed the dance floor, while Petra led a small group over to the far end of the bar. Other girls quickly struck up conversations or slid into booths to chat amongst themselves, excited words leaving their lips to be immediately forgotten. And in the center of it all, Edwin and Amanda, dripping wet and looking more annoyed than anything else. Their faces reminded her of Emily’s knife, sharp and nasty and most certainly pointed in her direction.
“Sore thumbs,” said Peter, and Rebecca immediately saw what he meant by it. Her enemies looked wildly out of place, awkwardly standing still and surrounded by energetic, attractive young people twenty years their junior. They looked like they had just entered their first club in decades.
Then it hit her. This is the first time they’ve been in Club Trabant. Which meant that they probably didn’t know about Peter, or hypno-slave Grace, or the drugs behind the bar. Unless Alice had told them about it, but why would she, especially if they were too preoccupied with the hostel to ask her about it? And if they didn’t know…
“Peter,” she said, curling her index finger until he returned. She held up three fingers and tapped her glass with her pinkie finger, hoping praying that he would know what she was getting at. Then she turned and marched into the lion’s den.
“Are you… are you hypnotized?”
Missy, with her chin pointed to her chest, responded with a soft “hypnotized…” Her glasses hung loose, threatening to fall to the floor, and Rebecca carefully pushed them back into place.
“Wow. Can you hear me, Missy?”
“Yessss…”
Her body was a mass of coiled, electrified wires. Every muscle, and every cell in them, crackled with anticipation and excitement. “Holy shit. I hypnotized you. It worked. I can’t believe it worked!”
The blonde said nothing. Her chest rose and fell in slow, even movements. She was nearly hypnotic herself, and for a moment, Rebecca imagined using her to put someone else into trance. “Watch her chest rise and fall. Up and down. You can’t look away from her beautiful body. Watch. Sleep.” Maybe Taryn, her study buddy from Trig. Maybe even Vicki Walker, the cute cheerleader with the long legs. She was at this party, somewhere outside. Ready to fall under Rebecca’s spell. Just like…
“Missy. Listen to me carefully. When I count to three, you will open your eyes, but you’ll still be deeply asleep.”
“Deeply asleep. Deep. Down.”
“You’re hypnotized, so you have to do everything I say, okay?”
“Oh…. kay… everything…” Goddamn, Robert was right after all. You really could make anyone do anything. At least… “I can make you do anything I want.”
“Anything you want,” the blonde murmured.
“Here goes nothing. One, two…”
“You guys! You’re so wet! Oh my God, you’re soaked!” She thrust out both of her hands and managed to catch Edwin’s with one, even as Amanda recoiled from the other in disgust. She gave his cold, doughy skin a squeeze and let go, making a mental note to wash her hands very, very thoroughly if she survived the night. “We’ve got towels at the bar. Come on over, I won’t bite!”
“I doubt your girlfriend would agree.” Amanda’s voice was as cold as Edwin’s skin. She was taller than Rebecca, and her wet hair draped her face as she loomed over her would-be slave. “What happened to your little redhead toy?”
Amanda. Amanda must have been the one who reprogrammed Emily. Rebecca was surprised by how angry this knowledge made her, and it took some effort not to curl her hands into fists. Or use them. “Oh, you know Em, she’s probably off exploring castles or some crazy shit! So, you’ve met Alice.” She waved to the Irish woman, who responded with a dreamy smile. “Welcome to Club Trabant!”
“Cut the shit already. Edwin, get this over with.”
Edwin’s hand drifted to his jacket pocket. He looked Rebecca up and down, a customer sizing up his newest purchase, and grinned. it was a gross, perverted grin that made her insides curdle, and her reaction only made him grin even more. “You thought that you could get away, didn’t you? Why didn’t you run away? To the train station? To the airport? You could have gone anywhere, but instead you walked down the street.”
“Because she’s stupid, Edwin.” Amanda stepped to her left to allow a group of drunk clubbers to pass, then rejoined the group. “You’re an idiot. And now you’re finished. Edwin, I’m bored. Let’s finish this up and go back to our hotel.”
Before anyone could respond, Grace, arm outstretched like Superman, pushed her way into the scrum. “Whoa! Look out! Coming through!” She carried a metal bucket filled with ice and beer bottles, swinging it to and fro like a milk maid merrily traipsing through a field. She paused and held the package aloft. “Special delivery for the DJ. Jesus, Rebecca, you weren’t fucking kidding about this place would picking up! Gonna be running around all night.”
She faced the rest of the group. “Hi, Alice! Hi, folks! Listen, a booth just opened up next to the bar. My advice is to go snag it before you get run over standing here. It’s getting crowded as fuck!” With a happy laugh, she pushed on towards the dance floor, parting the crowds with her beer bucket.
Rebecca silently thanked the club gods, whatever and wherever they were. She’d been working up an excuse to divert Edwin and Amanda to the bar, where Peter’s drugged drinks would be waiting for them, but hadn’t come up with anything even remotely convincing. The fact that they were in no mood to play along didn’t help. But a booth offered an excuse, and besides…
“Let’s get that booth,” said Edwin, “before someone else takes it. Alice? Celeste? Follow Rebecca and take a seat.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Yes, dearie.”
He moved in close to Amanda, and kissed her on the cheek. “Remember what happened,” he whispered, keeping an eye on Rebecca, “the last time we tried to trance a girl in the open? We’ll get her into the booth and do it there. Block her in and I’ll take the opposite seat.”
Rebecca winced as Amanda shoved her into the empty booth. Her captor pressed a hand against her injured leg, pushing her deeper inside. She bit her tongue rather than shout. Everything revolved around playing nice and pretending to be as dumb as Amanda predicted she’d be. As she dragged her legs and made room for Amanda, she realized that Alice’s plan revolved around the very same idea. Run to the club, the obvious place, the first place they’d look. Make yourself look stupid, dearie.
Amanda blocked her in. Edwin placed himself between Celeste and Alice, all of them facing Rebecca. He was clearly enjoying the moment. His two thralls focused only on him, resting their hands on his shoulders and looking at him with happy, mindless expressions. They barely had time to get settled before Grace arrived, tumbler glasses balanced carefully on a tray.
“Peter has you covered, guys. He says the next round is on the boss.” She slid the tray onto the table and quickly unloaded the glasses. Alice and Celeste ignored her, and she raised a suspicious eyebrow in response before shaking her head. “Let me know if you need more,” she said, tucking the tray under her arm. “I’ll be watching.”
Rebecca reached for a glass. There was no way to know which ones were drugged and which ones were safe. Peter wasn’t there to point them out, and Grace, outside of trance, had no clue that there even were drugs. It was possible that Peter had simply dosed all of them, but that was better than nothing. She sniffed the rim. Peter had whipped up five vodka tonics.
Edwin followed her lead and reached for a glass, but Amanda, still dedicated to playing the evil bitch, did not. Still, Edwin owned the mind control device and was the hypnotist of the group. Without him, Amanda was useless. She raised the glass, and Edwin followed her lead.
“We’re all friends here now,” he said. “Aren’t we Alice?”
“Yes, Master.”
Endless seconds passed, and nothing happened. Nobody took a drink. In the background, Rebecca could just make out Grace’s infectious laugh. The DJ switched over to a dance remix of rock songs. Glasses clinked; people chatted and shouted greetings to one another in a dozen languages.
She decided to force it, wetting her lips and taking a sip from her glass. “If we’re all friends, then let’s fucking toast to it and get this over with.” She raised her arm, and prayed for a miracle.
Edwin set his glass on the table and opened his hands. “Celeste, tell Rebecca what you told us on the way over to this club.”
No no no no no Celeste no! Rebecca could only watch helplessly as Celeste turned away from Edwin and calmly looked her in the eyes. It felt like watching a movie, or being in a movie, trapped and helpless to do anything but watch it play out.
The robot that was playing the role of her beautiful girlfriend began to speak. “Alice uses a special drug in the club drinks to make people open to suggestion. That’s how she hypnotized Rebecca, and how Rebecca hypnotized me. It’s very powerful.”
“Be honest, Celeste,” Edwin prodded. “Do you think Rebecca drugged these drinks before we got here?”
She smiled. “Oh, of course! That’s what I would do.”
“You see,” said Amanda, making a show of picking up a glass and giving it a shake. “You really are an idiot.”
“There was a time when Alice thought she had the better of me, too,” Edwin ran his hand through Alice’s hair, twisting strands around his fingers. “She thought that I was a terrible hypnotist, just like you did. And yet.” He jerked his hand suddenly, forcing Alice’s head to the table. “She’s now completely under my control. What do you think about that?”
“I think…” she looked at her hypnotized girlfriend, who was once again lost in trance and hopelessly fixated on her pudgy, slightly sweaty new master. You fucker. Look what you did to her. You motherfucker! “I think Alice was right, that’s what I think. You’re useless without your little gadget. A real hypnotist doesn’t need anything more than their own skills. And if you were a real man, you wouldn’t even be here. You’d be off in your own corner of the city, with your own business, instead of trying to steal ours.”
That barb landed. Edwin turned red. He curled his lips into an angry sneer. “In five minutes,” he said slowly, “you’ll be crawling under this table to suck my dick, And you’re going to love every second of it.” He held up the device. “I’m going to make you beg for it. Now, and tomorrow, and for the rest of your stupid fucking life.”
“No.” The conviction in her voice surprised even herself. She had their attention, and before Edwin could respond, she plowed ahead.
“You see those two behind the bar? I told them you were coming. They know who you are. What you are. If they see me drop into trance… hell, if I even look like I’m in a trance, they’re going to call the police.” She waved to Peter, who responded with a thumbs-up. “When the cops get here, Peter and Grace will accuse you of trying to drug me. Poor girl, drugged out of her mind, doesn’t even know what she’s saying! Good thing our two friendly bartenders were there to look after her.”
It was mostly bullshit, of course, but she could tell by their expressions that her bluff was having the desired effect. “You know, on paper, I have nothing to do with this club. I’m just a tourist being attacked by a creepy local.” She lingered on the word ‘creepy,’ enjoying the way it made Edwin squirm. “So go ahead. Zap my brain. Drop me into a mindless, zoned-out trance. Then explain it to the cops.”
She crossed her arms. “Otherwise, you’re going to slink out of this club with your tails between your legs, and you’re going to leave me the fuck alone. Got it?”
Amanda laughed, a high, piercing, mocking laugh that stung Rebecca’s ears. “Oh, you’re a bitch, aren’t you? Who the hell do you think you are? You just show up in town, hypnotize a few people, and think you can boss everyone around?”
“A bitch in a very public space,” she snapped back. “So yeah, I’m going to boss you around. Go ahead, try to trance me! See what happens!”
Edwin calmly laced his fingers together and held them in front of him, palms touching. “Speaking of seeing things happen… I’m sure you know all about trigger phrases and sleeper agents, don’t you? Ever created a few of your own? I have. Look around you, Rebecca. Do you see all of your friends? Chatting, talking, dancing… all I have to do is say those special words, and they’ll tear every single person in this club apart with their bare hands. Or die trying.”
“Bullshit. That’s bullshit. You can’t program people like that,” she said, even though her brain—and Emily, sleeping it off in the back room—told her otherwise. “Not all of them. You haven’t had enough time to get into their heads! You can’t even—“
“I can’t what, Rebecca? Brainwash them like you can? Maybe, maybe not. After all, one girl is all it takes.” He wrapped an arm around Celeste’s waist, and she happily leaned against him. “Tell me what your orders are, Agent Celeste.”
“Agent Celeste will obey, sir.” She stared at the far wall, eyes burning with devotion. “I am a soldier and I will follow your orders without question, sir!”
“Now picture your girlfriend ripping someone’s throat out. Imagine the look on her face when I wake her and she realizes what she’s done.” Edwin placed his thumb under the brunette’s chin and lifted it until her gaze drifted to the ceiling. “Or imagine someone ripping her throat out. Do you want to take that chance? Because I’m willing to.” His face hardened, and his lips flattened into a scowl. “Just say. The fucking. Word.”
Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit. The choices laid out before her were obvious, and they all sucked. Get hypnotized and lose her free will forever, or face another psycho-Emily situation, only twenty times worse. Plus, I can’t fight Celeste. I just can’t. The only other option, and a futile one at that, was defiance. She gave it her best shot. “We’re at a fucking standstill then, aren’t we? You can’t hypnotize me, and I can’t hypnotize you.”
“You’re bluffing,” he said. He switched on his device. The screen flashed green before turning black again.
“And so are you. Nothing like a bloody bar fight to bring the police here. So we’re back to square one.”
“Master?” Alice looked at Edwin with eager, pleading eyes. “May I offer a suggestion? You can’t trance her here.” She pushed down on his hand until he grudgingly lowered it, along with the device it held. “Forgive me, Master, but I simply must point this out. Rebecca is quite right. If Peter or Grace sees you hypnotize her, they absolutely will contact the authorities.”
“Then go over there and hypnotize them into seeing nothing,” said Amanda. “You mean to tell me that they’re not under your control already?”
“No, Mistress. Yes, Mistress. What I mean is, they work for me. They’re well aware of what I do here, and how. They’re not simply going to stand there and let me wave a packet watch at them!”
“Then we go back to the hostel.” Edwin slid to the edge of the booth. “Get up, Rebecca. We’re leaving.”
“Master…” Alice pleaded.
“Alice!” Rebecca glared at her. “Shut up! Just… shut it! For fuck’s sake!”
But Alice was too far gone to know what she was doing, and the horrible consequences of doing it. She pointed to the ceiling. “I’m afraid that if we go back to your hostel, Master, we’ll have lost our leverage with the girls here in the club. There’s an office upstairs. I haven’t a key with me, but Peter keeps a spare behind the bar.”
Once again, Rebecca’s best-laid plans were ruined by someone she trusted. She looked to the bar, but Grace was swamped by customers and Peter was happily chatting with Alice. He ducked out of sight below the bar and, after a moment, reappeared with something in his hands. The key.. He slipped it into Alice’s hands and turned away.
Amanda grabbed her arm. “Move. Now.”