Never Trust a Callboy by Birgit Kluger Page A

Hopefully I won’t throw up. Hopefully...
    "We don’t like what you’ve driven us to..........."
    Bile rises up in my throat. I swallow hard trying to get my stomach under control.
    There must be something funny, because he smiles at me. But his eyes don’t smile with his mouth. I watch him like a hypnotized rabbit while he slowly approaches me. I take a step backwards. But he stands before me.
    I can smell his breath, and it’s really not pleasant. I take another step backwards. But I can’t go any further. Rambo is behind me, motionless, like a rock. I am caught between them.
    Sweat runs down my back, even though I’m actually cold. Blondie slides his index finger under my spaghetti strap. He pulls me closer to him, so close that my breasts touch his shirt and I feel his breath on my face. And then I feel something else, further down, and I’m almost sick.
    He watches me with an amused smile, rubbing his hands along my body. His fingers dig into my skin, hurting me, but he is almost gentle at the same time as he gingerly traces a line up my thigh. Slowly, unstoppable. Until his fingers are there, where they shouldn’t be.
    NO!
    The word resounds in my head like a scream, but no sound comes out.
    "You’d better watch that you make amends, all right sweetie. You’ve really pissed someone off." He whispers it so tenderly in my ear, as if he were my lover. "If you're not very, very good, a nice little rape will be the best thing that happens to you."
    He looks down at me. That smile again. And then he lets me go, so suddenly that I stumble backwards where I am stopped by Rambo. He gives me a small nudge forward and I almost crash into Blondie, but I catch myself. My breath comes intermittently. I’m hyperventilating. My legs give way and I fall. I’m no longer aware of my surroundings as I hit the floor.

22
    B lood!
    Confused I stare at my hand, turning to look at the front and back to see where I’m injured.
    Nothing.
    Weird! There must be a reason... And then I remember. The two men: Rambo, and Blondie. The threat that Blondie made. His hand, the...
    With a start I jump up and run to the bathroom. I make it to the toilet just in time before I throw up. With a nasty taste in my mouth I lean over the sink to wash it out.
    I hate my life!
    I fumble my way back into the living room of the suite with shuffling steps, like I'm a hundred years old. I head for the bar, because if there’s one thing I need, it's alcohol. Although there is nothing to celebrate, I drink champagne. I’ve already had a few glasses, when someone knocks on the door. On command, my heart starts to race. Who is it? Have they come back again to finish what they started?
    I hear a faint whimper, turn my head puzzled to see where it came from, and then realize that it came from me. Again there's a knock. A little louder this time.
    Without moving, I wait.
    "Tamara, are you there?"
    Christian. I'd forgotten all about him. I'm not in the mood to receive a callboy. But on the other hand, it means that I will not be alone tonight. At that thought, I jump up and hurry to the door. I open it and step aside to let him in.
    "Hi," He greets me with an amused smile that evaporates quickly as he looks at me. A little too late I realize that I should have taken a look in a mirror.
    "What happened?" he asks. He looks at me with his eyes full of worry. Uncertain I play for time by pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. I have no idea what I should tell him, or rather, which lie to tell to deflect his interest. My eyes fall on my hand, there is still a faint trail of blood. I had forgotten that.
    "I stumbled. Earlier. Excuse me for a moment." With these words I turn around and hurry into the bathroom. The sight that greets me in the mirror takes my breath away. I look like I had a fight with a hurricane. No wonder he looked so worried. I wash my face with agitated movements then yank a brush through my hair until I look halfway normal again. I conjure up a smile