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CHAPTER 1

Heather

My first doll bit me.

That was my fault, mostly.

I was twenty and didn’t know nearly as much about doll care as I do now. I thought if I kept him comfortable and played with him enough, he’d eventually settle in.

I know better now. Dolls need enrichment. They need companionship. But most importantly, they need properly selected. Temperament matters more than you’d think.

Three is best.

Finding the right three is harder. It’s like taking in strays. You can’t just toss any three in the same room without muzzles. They need to be compatible without encouraging ugliness in each other. There’s really no excuse for ugly dolls if you know what you’re doing.

I’ve picked my next three. I’ve been very careful this time. Done in-home and workplace studies. You shouldn’t bring a doll home until you understand what he needs.

Jamie will come home first. He’s the sweetest, and sweet dolls need a little extra attention when they’re settling in. I want him to know exactly how precious he is before I bring home the others. That makes them easier to manage if one of the others starts misbehaving.

His room is ready. It’s much better than the one he made himself.

Right now, he’s helping a woman find a record for her daughter.

She doesn’t know the band. Or the album. She knows the cover is “mostly green, unless it was blue,” and that her daughter played one of their songs in the car last Tuesday.

Jamie has been trying to solve this for eleven minutes. He’s got a wonderful nature and a firm ass. He asks another question, tilting his head while she tries to remember something about a bird, and a strand of his long black hair slips over his shoulder. His eyeliner is softer tonight, smudged dark around his eyes instead of ending in the sharp little points he wore last Thursday.

The woman says something I can’t hear.

Jamie smiles. The tiny chip in his front tooth makes his whole face better.

I move toward the counter. His drink is where he always leaves it, tucked beside the register. I drop in a pill, give it a little shake, and put it back.

The woman remembers another useless detail. Jamie lights up like she’s handed him the final piece of a puzzle. He shouldn’t look at strangers that way. It gives women ideas. Jamie is too sweet to understand how dangerous that is for them. He’s mine.

I go back to the bin I’ve been pretending to browse.

He’s wearing a black skirt tonight, long enough to brush his knees, with heavy boots and a faded sweater that keeps slipping off one shoulder. His nails are painted the same deep gray as last week, though the polish is chipped at the tips now.

I like the skirt. It shows how long his legs are. I already have several at home that will look beautiful on him.

Jamie finds the record.

The woman makes a little delighted sound when he pulls it from one of the bins near the back. The cover is blue, not green, and there isn’t a bird anywhere on it, but she tells him that’s definitely the one.

He smiles again.

Two smiles seem excessive. Fortunately for her, she leaves without making it a thing.

After she leaves, Jamie carries the records they pulled during the search back to the counter. He takes a long drink before he starts putting them away.

My focus narrows to his mouth. Such a pretty doll.

A door opens behind him.

His boss comes out of the back room with his coat already on. “Elliot, you good to close tonight?”

Jamie looks up from the stack in his hands. “Yeah. I’ve got it.”