Cold Deception by D.B. Tait

could pay for the best still preferred blowjobs from drug fucked crims who begged him for stuff. She’d done it herself countless times since that first night in the cells. He’d raped her then, but he didn’t need to after that. She’d been more than willing to do whatever he wanted as long as he gave her what she wanted. Heroin, ice, pills. He had them all and was generous after a good fuck.
    She stared at herself in the mirror. She’d never had sex with him while straight. Hell, she’d never had sex with anyone without drugs. Nausea burned in her throat. She had to do it again. Everything depended on convincing him she was the same old Nessa out to score.
    It shouldn’t be that difficult. Everyone said he was a good fuck. If she could just concentrate on that and block out everything else, maybe she could get through it. The problem was the thought of him touching her made her want to throw up. She had to get a grip.
    The door of the ladies room slammed open.
    “What are you doing in here?” the guy behind the counter snarled. “Don’t make me have to call the cops.”
    “I’m not doing anything. Just some repair work. A girl has to look her best.”
    He grunted at her and had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you.”
    “No offence taken.” She patted his arm. “I’m going for a job interview. How do I look?”
    He grinned. “Like a million dollars. Knock ’em dead.”
    She smiled.
    That’s exactly what she planned to do.
    *
    Julia sat stiff and silent in the back of the four-wheel drive as Randle drove back down Leura Mall. He stopped where they’d picked her up and she scrambled out, slamming the door behind her.
    “Don’t forget, now,” he yelled at her. “Be a good girl.”
    She ignored him and turned toward home. After a few steps she stopped, bent over, and threw up in the gutter. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she saw the lemon tree in the front garden of a house on the other side of the road still with a few late season fruit. Crossing the road, she looked around her and at the house. Looked like a holiday let. The grass was long and it had a deserted air. She walked down the driveway and quickly pulled a lemon from the branches.
    Feeling more like a criminal than she had the whole time she was in jail, she made her way home, trying to block out the velvet voice of O’Reardon. As she got to the front gate, Dee and Eleanor drove up. They were laughing about something as they got out of the car. She stared at them. They were happy. After ten years of misery, life was falling into place for them. They’d even talked about traveling again, something they hadn’t considered while she was inside. She knew even though her mother couldn’t bring herself to visit her often, that their lives had been on hold all that time.
    She wouldn’t let anything interfere with their new found contentment. Not O’Reardon, not Blossom, not the demands of Dylan.
    Dee noticed her standing at the gate and smiled. “What are you doing there? Just get home?”
    Julia shook herself out of her reverie and held up the lemon. “Just needed a lemon.”
    “You didn’t buy it did you? There’s a tree on one of the houses on Leura Mall. The owner lives in Sydney. Doesn’t mind us helping ourselves.”
    Julia laughed, sounding even to her ears like the laughter of the doomed.
    “And there I was, feeling guilty for nicking a solitary lemon.”
    She felt Eleanor’s sharp gaze on her.
    “What is it? What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Quite the contrary. I’ll make dinner and tell you about this amazing woman I met today. She wants me to do some designs for her.”
    She continued chattering about Larissa as they walked up the path and into the house, hoping they couldn’t hear her forced cheerfulness. Finally, her mother’s concern dissipated as Julia injected more enthusiasm into her voice.
    “Well, that’s a great contact,” Dee said. “We can have a