Page 2 of Easy

Chapter3

After a moment,I release a shaky breath. “I don’t want to talk about any of that. I need to figure out who made me. If it’s someone up there or someone new downhere.”

“It could be someone down there. Did you fuck anyone? Angry ex, maybe?”

Annoyed with her, I glare at the screen and respond calmer than I feel. “No, nothing like that. I’ve kept to myself. I told you.” She doesn’t know the half of it. I’m a fucking hermit, save this job. For a girl who breathes people like air, being alone so often has been exhausting.

“Maybe it’s yourDad?”

Tensing, I swallow hard. After a moment, I ask, “Did he say anything that makes you thinkthat?”

Lizzie thinks for a moment and then shakes her head. “No, but you know how he is and you know what he’d do if he found out. That man has no fucking clue. About anything.”

I remember. Vividly. Nothing was mine. Father made it clear that I was an object to be used however he deemed necessary. Most tasks were handed off through my mother, and I had to do whatever she requested. But when a request has no other option but compliance, it’s a command. I lived like that for as long as I could.

One night everything went to Hell. That was my mistake. That night broke me. Now I’m here. In Abilene, Texas at this tiny university with blonde bricks and glass buildings. Hiding.

Lizzie shakes her head. “Nah, but he wouldn’t be the type to directly come at you, right? I mean if your dad knew, he’d play with you first to make you lose your shit, and then make himself known.” She’s guessing and doesn’t realize the extent of my father’s ability to strike terror. There’s a reason why the Ferro family has few enemies. His reputation is worse than Aunt Constance in terms of maliciousness and getting anything he wants. I witnessed it firsthand. To have that venom aimed at me is a cringe-worthy thought.

Lowering my gaze, I take a long slow breath of air and release it. I shake my head before looking up at the phone. Still, this is too subtle to be him. Email isn’t his style. “No, this isn’t Dad. This is too passive to behim.”

There’s a moment of silence as we both think. Then Lizzie offers, “Tell me where you are and I’ll come help you figure itout.”

“You can’t. Lizzie, we’ve been over this.” I try to hide my frustration because she has gone to great lengths to make sure I pulled this off. No one knows I’m gone and it’s because of her. “You can’t visit. They’ll find me if you come here.” I can tell the conversation’s derailed. She’s been pissed at me for months because I won’t tell her everything. It seems to offend her to hercore.

“You trust me with everything else, but not this?” I don’t reply. She releases a rush of air through her nose and fogs the screen. It dissipates swiftly. Her expression softens when she realizes I’m not talking. “Jos, at least tell me where you are,” she whines as she twirls a lock of hair around her finger. It’s something I would have done a yearago.

“You know I can’t, and you can’t get caught. Where areyou?”

She sniffles and straightens her shoulders. “At home. I haven’t leftyet.”

“Where are you going?”

“The usual line-up. Dark clubs, loud music, and all that shit. Jos, you’ve been gone for months. How much longer do you plan on staying there?” There’s an edge to her voice that makes it seem like she’s annoyed with me. I don’t blameher.

“Sounds good. Stay in the shadows. We look alike, but not that much.” We’re roughly the same size, build, and height. Her skin tone is more olive than mine. That presented a problem so we came up with a plan where it wouldn’t be an issue. It worked better than either of us thought.

She snorts and points to her wig. “The hair hides my non-Ferro face and since our plastic surgery doc was a dick and gave us the same nose, no one notices. Besides, Jos, no one looks at your face. Your dresses look like they were painted on. I had to lose five pounds to get intothem.”

She lowers the phone to show off one of the Gucci cocktail dresses Mother had commissioned for me. It’s retro, something from the 1960’s with sections of clear plastic across the under-bust which dips low and spilled down my sides. I felt naked in that thing. The patches of red fabric were soft, but scarce. The hemline was barely to the top of my thigh and the neckline was non-existent. It dipped to my navel in front and showed the small of my back from behind. It was taped on because no dress like that could hold itself in place.

Lizzie loves the dresses that were for ruining some poor fool. My reputation of being easy combined with a dress like that made it difficult for the morally chaste congressman to appear to be doing anything moral. A hand on his arm with enough cleavage revealed and it ruined that guy. I remember him. Mother said he was a problem and that was the extent of the information shared on the subject. I ruined people without knowledge.

My parents think I’m a slut and used my always open legs to their advantage. The truth is, I haven’t had sex in months. Actually, it’s been nearly a year. The last guy I was with just wanted to brag that he bagged Jos Ferro. There is always that risk. It’s painful to never know if the guy liked me or even cared. I let the easy reputation blossom at one point. I didn’t care and was trying to drown out my sorrow. It didn’t work, but it did set up an easy to follow map of what Jos Ferro does at night, and since I fight with my parents all day—and avoid them as much as possible—nothing seems amiss, yet. Thank God, because I need moretime.

“That dress looks great on you,” I offer. Lizzie preens as she represses a smile of gratitude. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. Be careful. Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t. I’ve got your back for as long as you need.” Although her face is completely sincere, there’s a tired timber in her voice that says she’s wearing thin—that she can’t do this much longer. “Your parents are being a bunch of little shits, but I have them under control. Maybe the email was from your mother? That’s unlikely, but I can go over there and poke around. Find out what shit is brewing in the Ferro mansion.”

“That’s a good idea.” I pause, and then joke, “And make sure you go over as you. As clueless as my parents are, I think they’d recognize that you’re not their daughter.”

She cackles and presses a hand to her heart. “Seriously—no worries. I’ll check in with you if I find out anything. Otherwise, watch your back. Love ya, bitch.”

I smile and laugh slightly. “Love you, too.” Before I can say be careful again, she’sgone.