Leighton Mia - Hero

“Tempting, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I say.

“If you’re thinking of flying, Sparrow, know that I will catch you. There is no escape. Fly until your wings fall off, until there's no more sky, but I will find you. I will always find you.”

Norman closes the heavy door, and the guests follow him from the room. I look over my shoulder. Calvin wears a tuxedo, his bowtie near my hair. I meet his eyes behind his glasses. His hand smooths over my backside and under the skirt’s hem. The tip of one finger grazes my opening and slips inside, eliciting my sharp gasp.

“Good little bird,” he praises. “Make sure you’re very attentive to my guests tonight.” He removes his hand and pats my ass before walking past me into the dining room. My heels puncture the room’s quiet as I go to the door. I touch the handle for some time until the doorbell rings, causing me to jump away.

Norman rushes into the room and halts abruptly when he sees me. I take two steps back, staring at him. He shakes his head slowly but doesn’t speak. It’s not until I’m retreating that he lets the guests in.

When most people appear to have arrived, I navigate through the room with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. My mind is in overdrive being in a crowd that feels three times as big as it is. I almost drop my tray when a man touches my shoulder to pass by. His apologetic smile is kind, but I back away.

“Excuse me, Miss?” I turn to an elderly woman with fading red lipstick. “Where can I find the restroom?”

“Um, I . . .” I freeze, my heart racing, until she raises an eyebrow. “The bathroom,” I manage. “It’s just down the hall, second door on the right.”

When she’s on her way, I set my tray on the nearest surface and inhale a deep breath.

“You all right there?”

“A little short of breath,” I say.

“Maybe you should have a seat.”

I look up. The man seems in his early forties, average build with a noticeable beer gut. My immediate thought is that he’s no match for Calvin should I need him to be.

“You ever catered before?” he asks.

There’s a loud noise behind me, and I whirl around, knocking a champagne flute off my tray.

He laughs loudly. “I hope this isn’t your day job.”

“It’s not,” I say, bending awkwardly as I brush the shards into a pile. “This is my first time.”

“Hey, careful,” he says. “You’ll cut yourself. Someone’s coming with a broom.”

I straighten up and catch Rosa signaling to me that she’s on her way. Across the room, I catch Calvin staring at us. His unreadable eyes move between the man and me. He doesn’t seem displeased that I’m socializing, more intrigued. As though he expects it.

“So what do you do?”

“What?” I ask, returning my attention to the man.

“For a living. You said this was your first time.”

“I—” My palms begin to tingle, and there’s a sudden lack of moisture in my mouth. “I can’t say. I’m . . . I work for Mr. Parish.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You work for him, or he hires you?”

“I’m on the staff. I can’t really talk about it.” I’m drowning, sure that Calvin will appear at any moment to whisk me off to the basement.

The man studies me a moment before nodding. “Ah. I see. No, I get it.”

“You do?” I ask.

“Sure. I wouldn’t exactly go around broadcasting it either, but I’ve been down that road a time or two.” He winks. “Though, never with someone like you.”

Could he possibly know the truth about me? The thought that Calvin’s done this before, and that others know about it, puts a strange knot in my chest. “I should really get back to work,” I say.

“You . . . do you work exclusively for Parish?”

“What?”

“You know,” he says. “Catering. Does he hire you just for himself or for others too?” He chuckles. “Like a party favor?”

“I don’t know,” I say, backing away. When I check again, Calvin’s in conversation, no longer watching. My skin prickles fiercely as understanding washes over me. “Do you do business with Mr. Parish?”

He’s looking down at my ankles, but his head snaps up. “What? Oh, sometimes, yes.”

“Excuse me.”

“Where are you going?”

“I need fresh air.”

Fresh air is not a luxury I’m allowed, so I find myself in the bathroom, braced against the counter with outstretched arms. I stare at myself in the mirror, my blue eyes too bright and my hair too silky for all the things that haunt me.

“Don’t wear underwear tonight.”

“Make sure you’re very attentive to my guests.”

“I have a debt that can’t be paid with money.”

I wasn’t wrong in thinking the no-underwear rule meant someone would come for me tonight. It just wouldn’t be Calvin.

A knock at the bathroom door is almost expected. I’m still staring at my now pallid face when a male voice asks, “Can I come in?”

“I’ll be out in a few moments.”

The lack of response is a relief. I breathe deeply in and out, attempting to calm myself. It’s been more than two months since I had any normal interaction. I can get through this and when I do, I’ll be rewarded with a day of freedom. After some minutes have passed, I open the door to leave, but the man I was just talking to is there waiting. He puts a hand on my cheek before I can pull away.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He withdraws. “Sorry. What?”

“Why—”

“Did I misread something?”

“What?” I ask, backing away. He looks over his shoulder and steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“You said you weren’t exclusive? Which means . . . you’re available, and . . . don’t worry, I have . . .” He pauses, digging in his pockets. “Protection. Money too. I don’t really do this ever, but it’s been a while and the fact that this is a charity event is, well . . .” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know why, but it’s hot, I guess.”

Betrayal is fire through my veins. Confusion melts into despair and hardens into hatred. How could Calvin do this to me? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, my heart pounding.

“Um. I’m sorry. I thought—because Parish—”

“Whatever Calvin told you, I’m not. I can’t.” My knees are knocking together, and I think I’m going to throw up, so I feel behind me for the counter. The man steps closer and catches me by the waist, but his hands are an unbearable intrusion.

“Get off me,” I say as I shove him. I slap him across the face, and he stumbles back into the wall.

“What the? I’m just trying to help—”

I push him again, and he grabs for my wrists but I thrash, my hands making contact anywhere they can. I lunge for the door and catapult into the hallway, almost knocking Norman over. “Cataline, what on Earth?” He looks behind me at the man. “Is everything okay?”

“Norman, take me upstairs,” I beg. “Don’t tell Calvin.”

I’m too late though, because Calvin’s bellowing voice dispatches fear through my system. “What’s going on?”

“Come, Cataline,” Norman says, ushering me to the staircase.

“P-please, Norman. Keep him away from me.”

“Hush.”

We make our way up the stairs, his arm securely around me while there’s commotion in the foyer. I hear yelling, accusations, but I put all my energy into climbing to the third floor. Just as I hit the edge of my bed, Calvin strides in, dismissing Norman with a look. I want to cry out for him to stay, but fear silences me.

Calvin grabs my biceps and stands me up. “What happened?” he says with a light shake.

I can barely speak through my terror, so I’m just shivering in his grasp.

“Answer me.”

“I’m sorry,” I cry, my knees buckling. “I couldn’t do it.”

“You couldn’t do what?”

“I couldn’t have sex with him. I can’t, I just can’t do it.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I don’t care what your debt is. You’re an asshole. Punish me if you have to—send me to the basement, anything—I d-don’t want anyone touching me but you!” There is immediate and complete silence except for my labored breathing. My mouth hangs open. “I . . . I didn’t mean that.”

“You thought I wanted you to have sex with that man?” he asks, his fingers digging into my arms.

I attempt to wriggle from his grasp. “I hate you. Out of everything you’ve done, this is the worst. How could you?”

He releases me, and I fall back onto the bed.

“Cataline, I never—” He stops and kneels in front of me. He takes my chin. “I don’t know how this happened. You and another man, it makes me—it . . .”

He’s struggling for words on his knees, a sight my brain can’t compute. “But, you said . . . and you told me not to wear underwear.”

“For me. The only thing getting me through this night is knowing there’s one less thing separating me from having you. I—”

“I don’t believe you,” I say, trying to dislodge my chin from his grip.

“He thought you were a prostitute.”

“Why would he think that?”

“The outfit,” he says. “My very particular . . . proclivities.”

“Prostitutes?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “He’ll pay. I promise.”

I heave a stuttering sigh. My mind is still in shambles, trying to piece everything together. “You aren’t mad?” I ask. “That I fought?”

“I should’ve been paying attention.”

I don’t understand his answer, but like butter, I melt against him. He releases my face and lets me wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hey. Don’t worry,” he says softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

“You will?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says. He removes my arms from him before standing to pull back the covers. “Get in, and relax for the rest of the night. I’ll send Rosa and Norman up for you.”

I stare up at him. “Rosa? And Norman?”

“Don’t worry about the party. I can spare them.”

“Oh. I . . .”

“Yes?”

“Nothing. That’s fine.”

“I have to get back to the guests, but anything you want, you tell them,” he says on his way out. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I watch him leave before climbing under the covers. Rosa and Norman are in my room soon after, fawning over me. Norman keeps asking me what I need, but I’m too embarrassed to tell him.

* * *

“Calvin.”

“I’m here.”

“Calvin?”

“What is it, Sparrow? I’m right here.”

His warm words bloom inside me, and I smile. When my eyes open, a white tuxedo shirt glows in the dark just out of arm’s reach. “Calvin?”

“What?” he snaps.

“What are you doing here?”

He sighs. “I don’t know.”

“What time is it?”

“Late.”

“Is the party over?”

“Hours ago.”

I shift onto my back, but my limbs are sluggish. “It was too much,” I say. “I wasn’t ready.”

“No. You weren’t.”

My eyes threaten to close again, but I make them stay open. “You do good things, don’t you, Calvin?”

“Hmm?”

“The charity. Is it only for appearances? Or do you really care? You can be so cruel.”

There are soft noises as he moves in his chair. “I do it because I committed to it.”

“Committed to what?” I ask.

“To making things better.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I promised my parents I’d make the world better.”

I look from him up to the faux haven the white canopy creates. “Oh.”

“Are you thinking that I’ve made your world worse?”

“I guess so.”

“Earlier you said you didn’t want anyone touching you but me.”

“It was a mistake. I don’t want anyone touching me, including you.”

He laughs deeply, slowly, because he sees through my lie. With gruffness in his voice, he says, “Try and get some rest.”

My eyelids weigh with sleep, so I curl onto my side. My cheek rubs against the soft pillow. “I’ve never met anyone who cares about nothing,” I murmur. “Until you.” I’m drifting, only half asleep when he speaks again, but I don’t hear it. It feels like I only blink, but when my eyes open again, he’s gone.

* * *

I look up from my book. “Did you say something?”

“I asked how you’re feeling,” Norman says, chuckling.

“Oh. About the same.” I wince when the words scrape from my throat.

“How about some soup?”

I smile and wave my book. “Maybe later. I’m at a really good part.”

He shakes his head. “Too much activity last week. Please take my advice for once, and get some rest.”