Real (Real #1)(41)
Author: Katy Evans

“Well, if it isn’t the little whore.” He flings the words like stones at me, then glances derisively past my shoulder. “Where’s Riptide? Hiding under your skirt again?”

Impotent anger rages through me, making my throat curl tightly around my words. “He had better things to do.”

He narrowly eyes me, then Melanie and Riley. “Only you,” he says, jabbing a finger in the air in my direction, “can pass.”

I start passing, but he blocks me with an arm, and a red flush slowly creeps up his demeanor as if in eager anticipation. “You have to kiss the scorpion first.” Eyes glimmering meanly, he taps the icky black scorpion on his cheek, and his teeth flash, his entire mouth covered with a grill of diamonds.

My organs halt in pure shock and horror at his request, and I clench my lips in response as my gaze jumps past his shoulders, across the little restaurant, to the corner table where Nora sits. I meet my sister’s honeyed gaze and despair runs through me at the blank look in her eyes.

How can I let her do this to herself? I can’t.

I just.

Can’t.

Scorpion wants his fun and wants to demean me. He wants to show me he has the power today. But he can’t demean me if I don’t allow him to see how much his request revolts me.

Wildly trying to convince myself that it means nothing, I take a deceptively steady step forward. But my entire body begins to tense at what I’m about to do, and an awful flush of embarrassment burns fast across my skin.

“Brooke,” Riley says in a warning that also sounds like a plea.

But it’s either kiss a stupid tattoo, or sacrifice Nora to this man, or risk involving Remington to tangle with these losers, and I just can’t do any of that, either.

The awful man’s gaze feels like a snake slithering upon me as he watches me approach, but all I can concentrate on is my sister at the table behind him. I draw a deep breath, forbidding myself to tremble.

As I take the last step, suddenly his request seems as impossible as him asking me to climb Mount Everest and dig a hole to the bottom. My stomach roils in protest, and I’m dangerously close to vomiting at the sight of the black crawling insect up close.

He smells of fish and pure mean ass**le.

And I wish I had the guts to try to kick the shit out of him.

Suddenly a vivid reminder of a show my dad used to watch called Fear Factor strikes me, where people do all kinds of gross things, and get in boxes with live snakes and scorpions, as well. If people can do that for money, I can certainly do this for my sister.

Shoving my pride aside and seizing onto my determination, I force my lips to pucker so hard, they feel like rocks as I press up on my tiptoes. Nausea roils up my chest before I even make contact.

“Look at this, Remy’s f**king whore is kissing the Scorpion.” His goonies spit the words out contemptuously, and the humiliation the words bring makes me want to run and hide with a force I haven’t felt in years. Revolted at myself, I quickly smack the air and drop back on my heels. “There. All done now,” I say, loathing that my voice shakes.

His laughter is deep, dark, and awful as he turns to his goons. “Did she kiss me? Did Riptide’s bitch actually kiss the Scorpion? I don’t think so.” His beady green-yellow eyes slither back to me, and coupled with that glare, I’m not feeling very powerful at the moment. “I didn’t feel your kiss. Now you’re going to have to lick it.” He beams his diamond grill at me again.

My eyes widen in horror, and my determination to see my sister falters woefully at the thought of licking any part of this man. Omigod, I want to run so bad from here, my veins already feel dilated as the blood pumps into my muscles, priming me to flee. Flee to the car, back to my Remy.

Riley grabs me, his face a mask of concern.

“Brooke,” he says in warning, and that snaps me back to what I’m here for and I quickly squirm free, once again facing Scorpion.

How can I leave? How will I otherwise get to talk to Nora about this shit she’s in? Just the thought of her in this Human Worm’s grasp disgusts me. How can I see her with this type of pervert and not do something to help her? Swallowing back the painful dryness in my throat, I tip my face back with false bravado, desperate to do anything except lick that grossness on that man’s disgusting cheek. “I’ll kiss it, you have my word.”

Fear Factor.

You can do this for Nora.

If you could do the hundred meters in 10.52 seconds, then you can kiss this sucker’s stupid skin mascot!

Evil lurks in his eyes as he studies me thoughtfully, then speaks mockingly down at me. “If you’re not going to lick it, then you’ll have to at least hold it for five seconds, hmm? Remy’s bitch? Go on now. Kiss the scorpion.” He taps the scorpion, and my stomach seizes spasmodically as I struggle very hard to keep my expression blank and show the Human Insect how unconcerned I am with his revolting request.

Drawing a deep breath, I forbid my knees to quiver as I go up on tiptoes, pucker my lips, and squeeze my eyes shut, loathing and rage seizing my insides as my lips hit his dry painted skin. Holding the contact, I feel poisoned inside as I make it last five seconds, my heart black inside me. Hurting and coiling in complete and utter embarrassment. My legs waver as another second passes, and my systems feel paralyzed in this purgatory, where every ounce in my body is repelled by this embodiment of Rotten and only sheer willpower holds me up on my toes.

These are the longest five seconds of my life. Where I am humiliated beyond humiliated, angry beyond explanation, and feel as low as when I saw the video of my broken self on YouTube.

“All right then.” With a smile nothing short of disgustingly wide when I drop back down, surprised there is even ground under my feet, he extends his thick arm out to Nora, and I’m reeling with self-loathing as I hold my spine straight and head for Nora, resisting the urge to go into the kitchens and scrub my mouth raw. It feels dirty and cheap. No, not it. I. I feel dirty and cheap, and the thought of kissing my beautiful Remy with this same mouth makes my eyes tear up and my throat constrict.

I already feel drained by the time I reach my sister’s table. Around us, there are empty tables with upside down chairs littered throughout, except for our small table, which is set with one electric tea light at the center and chopsticks for four.

“Nora.” My voice is deceptively soft, but inside I’m a mass of conflictive emotions, even resentment toward my sister for sitting here, watching me have to kiss her filthy boyfriend’s tattoo. But seeing the lifeless expression on her face, I just know the girl across the table from me, willowy and frail, pale and not really happy, isn’t really my sister.

Reaching for her hand on the table, I’m saddened when she doesn’t let me hold it and instead shoves it under the table with a little sniffle. We stare at each other for a moment in silence, and it strikes me that the sight of that black scorpion almost crawling into my sister’s eye is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

“You shouldn’t be here, Brooke,” she says, her eyes on the men and Riley and Melanie, who wait in stunned silence by the door. When our eyes meet again, I’m shocked by the animosity in her gaze, openly lashing at me.

A sudden anger seizes me too, and I narrow my eyes. “Mom wants to know if you liked the Australian crocodiles, Nora. She loved the postcard you sent and can’t wait to see where else you’re heading to. So? How were the crocodiles, sister?”

There’s a world of bitterness in her voice when she answers. “Obviously I wouldn’t know.” She wipes the back of her hand across her nose and looks away, scowling at the mention of Mom.

“Nora…” Lowering my voice, I signal at the empty Japanese restaurant containing the Scorpion and the three goons, who watch us from the sushi bar. “Is this honestly what you want for yourself? You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“And I want to live it my own way, Brooke.”

There’s a bunch of defensiveness in her tone, so I try to keep from sounding aggressive. “But why here, Nora? Why? Mom and Dad would be heartbroken if they knew the things you’ve gotten yourself involved in.”

“At least I keep them from knowing the truth!” she snaps out, and this is the first spark of life I actually see in her gold eyes.

“But why would you do this to them? Why would you drop out of college for this?”

“Because I’m sick and tired of them comparing me to you.” She glares, then starts making a mocking voice that resembles our mother when she whines. “‘Why don’t you do this like Brooke?’ ‘Why don’t you find something meaningful to do with your life like Brooke?’ They just want me to be like you! And I don’t want to. What’s the point? You missed all the fun growing up so you could be this hotshot gold medalist and now you’re not only not an Olympic medalist, you can’t even sprint anymore.”

“I may not sprint anymore but I can still kick your ass right now,” I angrily lash, hurt beyond words at what she’s telling me.

“So what?” she continues. “You were the best track athlete in college. Everyone couldn’t stop talking about how talented you were and how you were going to make it. That’s all you did and talked about, and now look at you! You can’t even do what you loved and will probably end up like mom and dad, living in the past, with your stupid old gold medals still hanging in your bedroom!”