Page 66 of Total Exposure

My heart is galloping inside my chest. Which is ridiculous. She was a perfectly nice woman. Harmless in every way. And she was helpful and didn’t make me feel stupid for not understanding how things work in the Botanic Gardens Cafe.

It’s only then that I realize I had an actual conversation with a stranger. And I didn’t die.

I force down a small chuckle at my own ridiculousness, just as a large man with a beard yells, “Angela!”

He doesn’t even wait for me to come take my coffee. Just leaves it there on the counter and goes back to his work.

I slip in between a chatting couple, bumping them to reach my coffee, then almost panic again when the man looks at me with a disapproving glare.

Coffee in hand, I duck out quick and go back into the wind and the cold.

I like it better.

But the greenhouse is attached to the cafe. And the entrance I’m supposed to use, according to X, is the first one I come to.

I exhale, wondering if I’m up for this. I mean, that back there was good, but ended badly. And who knows how many people are inside the greenhouse? Probably a ton because it’s winter.

I should’ve thought this through a little better before I agreed.

But then X’s words are in my mind.

If you do everything the way I told you, I’ll reward you tonight.

What does that mean? He’ll touch me again?

Wetness pools between my legs at the thought.

What if he fucks me?

What if he doesn’t? is my automatic counter-answer.

Which is enough to get my feet moving again. I head for the door, reaching for the handle, when it pops open and a family comes rushing out. Small children brush past me as a father follows, yelling at his kids, while his wife is left to maneuver the stroller through the already shutting door, alone.

I stand there, unable to move, as she manages to get her stroller out, glaring at me for not helping her at the same time.

I swallow hard, duck my head, and slip inside. Embarrassed, ashamed, and wishing I’d never come here at all.

“You’re being stupid, Evangeline,” I mutter to myself. She was obviously overwhelmed and only wanted a little help. And I stood there like an idiot and just watched. She probably thinks I’m a horrible person.

I look over my shoulder, wondering if I should apologize, but there’s a crowd of people coming in behind me and I just need to get away.

Blindly rushing forward, I escape them only to encounter another crowd. Jesus. It’s the middle of the fucking winter. Can’t these people find some other public attraction to frequent?

Treehouse, Evangeline. I take deep breaths as I look up. The ceiling is glass—of course, since it’s a greenhouse. But there are trees in here. It reminds me of the jungles in Thailand. I played violin at a birthday party for the youngest royal princess. And later she—middle-aged at the time, so not quite the image of a princess one might conjure up—took me into the royal gardens for a chat about tigers. I was obsessed with tigers after a trip to India when I was seven.

Nostalgia washes over me with the memories. I used to be so… outgoing. Social. Normal. What happened to me?

Lucinda has asked me this question many times since I made that first phone call asking for help. But I never had an answer. It was just… everything, I guess. I just got fed up. That’s the answer I give Lucinda every time she asks. That Thai princess was part of it, probably. Playing at her party changed me somehow. It wasn’t enough to manifest at the time. But it accumulated over the years. Slowly, my fame, my talent, and my young age poisoned me. Like a dripping faucet that drives you crazy.

I went crazy.

I’ve come to terms with it. And I didn’t realize it at the time. Even a few months ago, crazy was a place other people went.

The treehouse is hard to miss. It’s a large structure looming overhead, parts of it peeking out through palm fronds. And there must be a million ways to get up there, because the steps I ascend are almost empty.

Once at the top I walk along the railing, looking down, searching for the bench next to a large orange bush blooming with flowers.

How does this Jordan guy know his bench will be empty? There’s so many people here. And so far, every bench I’ve seen was filled with families doing family things or old people doing old-people things.