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While I was busy running away from life.

  And now I had lost her. Lost her for good.

  How could she forgive me? I couldn’t even try to contact her. Her last words were final—don’t call or text. After what I did to her, she deserved the right to set her own terms.

  I’m so sorry…

  The unsaid words choked me.

  Naturally, on Tuesday morning my promotion was waiting for me. While I was being congratulated by the supervisor on duty, my pride in my new job was tempered by what had happened with Sierra. I wished I could share it with her as the big milestone it was in my life. But I had ruined that chance.

  Now I knew in my heart that it wouldn’t have mattered if it came in last week. I had lied to Sierra, to everyone. And judgment day had come.

  I worked my last shift on the tarmac. It was uncomfortable because the guys acted differently with me, knowing I was going to be sitting over them now. I didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway, and was glad of the distance. I got my marching orders from the HR Director—a day off, then training started Thursday morning, civilized hours, under the senior supervisor. It was a big bump in pay, half again more than I was making now.

  If Sierra forgave me, I would be able to travel with her. Take her out to eat. Send her home properly in a cab. I could buy things for her, like the corset she had left behind. And other nice things that I wanted to give her.

  It was a crying shame that I met Sierra a few months too soon. A tragedy that I had ever started lying about myself in the first place. It had started so small, such a stupid toss-away thing for toss-away girls. But it snowballed into something more, until it had taken over my life.

  On Wednesday morning, I made up my mind. She said don’t call or text, so I wouldn’t. I couldn’t go by her apartment because that was creepy after Dick’s stalking.

  But I had to see her. I couldn’t leave things like this between us. I needed to say I’m sorry.

  I thought it would be better if I met her in public, but I didn’t want to make her feel unsafe by “running into” her at her bus stop or one of her local shops. I wanted her to feel in control, but not like I invaded her space.

  So I went to Lowenstein’s. I would have to be very careful not to mess with her work, or make her feel like that was even possible. I would have to be a legitimate customer and back off the instant she wanted me to.

  I had to try.

  Lowenstein’s was a big department store, and it took some searching in the Men’s section before I bought half a dozen collared shirts and pants. I charged them to the store credit card the helpful salesman filled out for me. I needed a new work wardrobe.

  Armed with two large shopping bags, I combed through the store looking for Sierra. I finally found her in the Junior section hanging up clothes.

  Sierra looked serenely beautiful, concentrating on her task. Her hair was tucked up in a twist, and she was wearing a striped blazer with navy blue pants. Every time I saw her, I seemed to see more in her. This was the serious Sierra, the woman who had worked hard to make something of her life.

  She looked up and saw me as I closed the distance between us. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice strained.

  “I had to buy clothes for my new position.” I lifted the bags slightly. “And I had to say I’m sorry. I’ll be on the steps of the Library if you want to talk.”

  “I’m working.”

  “When you get off.”

  “That’s in three hours.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll wait.”

  Sierra frowned. “I told you not to contact me.”

  “I haven’t texted or called. But I’ve wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. Face to face. I feel awful about this.”

  She considered me for a moment, and then turned back to the rack. “I’ll think about it.”

  I nodded and backed up. One of the other employees was staring over at me, so I said a little louder, “Thank you.”

  Sierra saw where I was looking, and replied with a fake bright smile, “You’re welcome.”

  I went downstairs and considered what to do. I could get back home with my bags and return in plenty of time. But what if she ran out during a break to see if I was there, but I wasn’t?

  I turned north and marched up to the Library and sat myself down in the very middle of the steps, a bag on either side of me. I had nothing more important to do right now than wait for Sierra.

  Chapter 32

  Sierra

  The shock of seeing Vic in the store shook me. I had trouble listening to people after that. Their mouths moved while I was thinking—what could he possibly say that would change anything?

  Nothing. There was nothing that could explain this away.

  But I couldn’t stand him up. Now that I knew he was there, waiting to talk to me, I had to hear what he had to say for himself.

  The man knew me too well. All those mind games were paying off for him. He knew how to make me do what he wanted.

  I went to the bathroom after punching out, and looked at myself in the mirror. The affects of the past few days showed. I looked tired and bruised, but there was something in my eyes I liked. I hadn’t been beaten.

  I walked up to the Library and from the corner of the block, I could see Vic sitting in the midst of the mid-afternoon crowd. He was looking my way, as if watching for me. He picked up his shopping bags and met me halfway.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said.

  “I’m ready to be stunned and amazed by your explanation of all this,” I retorted.

  Vic let out a derisive sound. “I have no explanation. No excuse. It’s as fucked up as it looks, sorry to say.”

  “You should have told me!”

  “I started to. A few times. At our first party, I was about to tell you but Tricia came up. And then the Dick thing happened… but I should have told you much sooner. I was falling for you, and didn’t want to ruin it.”

  “No, you were testing me. To see if I was a gold-digger,” I said.

  He grimaced. “I tried to tell you after the Masquerade, but all that stuff about my sister spilled out. I never told anyone about my sister being my mother, not even Adrianne. I hid it from her because I knew she wouldn’t like it. I knew she couldn’t be trusted.”

  I stared at him, seeing him blanch at his own words. It was so raw. But people were bumping past us on the sidewalk, practically jostling us aside.

  “Let’s go sit down,” I said reluctantly.

  We walked around the Library to Bryant Park in the back. It was a polished park, the jewel of midtown. We found an empty bench and sat down. Vic was turned towards me, but I faced resolutely forward.

  “I told you I was messed up,” Vic said.

  “I thought you were a hot sexy mess. Not a pathological liar.”

  “Can’t I be both?”

  “No.”

  Vic grimaced. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  In spite of myself, I felt a thrill inside. “You spent our whole relationship making me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you.”

  “No, I didn’t. I never meant to. If I was distant, it’s because I wanted to tell you the truth but I knew you would hate me for it.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me if you wanted to so badly?”

  “It was always the wrong time. There was the fight with your sister, and you needed money for a new place but I didn’t have any. And then my promotion was coming through. When Dick came to my place, I finally realized there never would be a right time. So I told you.”

  “You didn’t include me in your life. Or take me out on a real date. I thought you had other girls for that. Rich girls who were more like you.”

  He looked appalled. “You thought that? Truth is, you saw my life. Work and a little fun on the side. I’m hoping for more now that I got a raise.”

  “Good luck with that,” I said shortly, staring into the bushes across the way. A woman and three tiny dogs w
ent by, trotting so fast their legs blurred.

  “I want to have fun with you, Sierra. We can go anywhere you want, whatever you’ve dreamed of. Paris, Fiji, Greece—”

  I put my hands over my ears. “It feels like you’re spinning more lies!”

  “I’m not! I want to start over with you, Sierra. Take you on a date. We can get to know each other for real.”

  I wished I could believe in him again. But how? His foundation was rotten at the core. It must be to allow him to do this, to lie to everyone, even at their most vulnerable. What kind of hardened asshole could pull that off year after year? Girl after girl?

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I doubt everything about you now. What kind of man does this? Do you have any morals? Is cheating off the table? I mean, you must be an expert at self justifications.”

  “I know I don’t want to hurt you again.”

  “I don’t buy that. You knew you were hurting me when you were lying to me. You did it to manipulate me, start to finish.”

  “No, that’s why I stopped seeing you after the Festival. I couldn’t keep lying to you.”

  “But you still believed I was after you for your money. Or you would have told me,” I pointed out. “While you were having sex with me! You were lying to me and laughing behind my back about how you tricked me into it.”

  “Not laughing—“

  “How could you do this to girls if you don’t feel contempt for us?” I was getting madder by the minute. “I could tell everyone that you’ve lied.”

  His expression was impassive. “I expect you to. I don’t care.”

  “Oh, really?” I glared at him. “You’re full of shit! Obviously this Victor-charade means everything to you.”

  “No, it’s over and done with. Never again.”

  I shook my head. “I have no reason to believe you.”

  “I can prove it to you.”

  “How? You’ve already proven yourself to be a liar.” I stood up, still shaking my head. “I should have known better than to talk to you again. You tricked me in our first scene when I thought you were going to hurt me. And you tricked me the whole time we were together. I’m done with you.”

  With that, I turned and walked away. All I could see were the lies. I wanted to call him Victor because that’s who I had fallen for. Not this new man, not Vic. The man I made love to wasn’t lying or manipulating me. Victor knew me inside and out, and I trusted him.

  How could I ever trust Vic? I couldn’t.

  I mean, I know he’s twisted. But this is really twisted. Seriously twisted.

  I didn’t look back as I left the park.

  Chapter 33

  Vic

  I couldn’t believe it. In spite of everything, Sierra walked away. I could talk my way out of hell if I needed to. But she up and walked away.

  She had stripped me of my powers, unmasked me for the man I was. And judged me unworthy.

  I sunk my head in my hands, wishing I could start all over again, go back to the day I left my grandparent’s house. I could have become anything I wanted. But I had sabotaged myself and created a Frankenstein mock-man of myself. Looking back on the years, they were so empty. At the time it had been exciting, getting away with something, having sex with the most beautiful women in the city, watching them chase after me and beg for my attention. Degrading themselves in all sorts of delicious ways to win my love.

  But that was nothing now that I had met Sierra.

  From now on, I would be the kind of man she could admire. No matter what.

  Chapter 34

  Sierra

  I fumed all the way home. Now I was mad. Maybe it was the proper sequence for the stages of grief, and I was grieving for the loss of my Victor. The man who had seduced me into submitting to him, until I begged him to take me in front of a hundred strangers. Then I kissed his boots in gratitude.

  I made a disgusted sound, making several people on the bus look over at me. I was getting heartily sick of my train-to-bus commute, with the long wait in between at Hunter’s Point. But what choice did I have? I didn’t make enough to live in a proper apartment. My bank account was nearly zeroed from the money I had hemorrhaged over the past month, including the gone-forever security deposit my old landlord had officially claimed because I hadn’t given him thirty days notice.

  Vic had baited his trap with the lure of money and an easy life. And I had been stupid enough to fall for it, and to think I wasn’t good enough so I wouldn’t protest when he didn’t take me out or introduce me to his friends.

  I was so gullible! How could I have dropped my guard so much? Because I wanted to believe that an irresistible man found me irresistible?

  It was the memory of his touch that I couldn’t shake. I really wished I could stop thinking about our last scene at the Masquerade. But it haunted me, that feeling I had craved to finally become one with him. He had hardly touched me, but it was embedded in my body and heart and mind, the ways he had touched me. As if he had claimed me, and because I had given myself to him, I could never take it back. In spite of everything, I dwelled on our moments together, every look from his eye, every caress of his finger across my skin.

  I would never forget his face when he told me about his mother, like he was showing me the ugly scars he kept hidden from everyone else. The walls in him had fallen, and his eyes pleaded with me to understand, no longer closed off. It was exactly what I had longed for, and it was even better than I had imagined. The way he had made love to me… as we gazed into each other’s soul…

  I realized I was sitting on my bed in my cubicle room, and couldn’t remember how I got home. Again.

  It was really stupid to walk around the city in a daze. I was a hazard to myself.

  I was overwhelmed because I couldn’t separate Vic from Victor, the con artist from the master, the lover from the liar. Maybe they were one and the same, and the feelings he had given me at the Masquerade were part of the con. Maybe it was nothing but manipulation and I was eroticizing my attacker.

  Sick, sick, sick…

  It made me worry for Lola. Was my sister going through something like this with Martin? If anyone fit the con man label, it would be a grifter like Martin. An older man taking advantage of a young, flighty woman who was alone in the world for the first time…

  What if Lola was going through the same mental and emotional manipulation, as Martin softened her up for some devious reason of his own?

  I put my head into my hands. I had come full circle. Only I was a lot worse off now. I had gone to the Chamber to find out if Lola was in danger, but it had taken the whole summer to find out the truth. It was even worse than I had feared.

  And Lola still wasn’t speaking to me.

  I knew it wasn’t right, and spying had gotten me into plenty of trouble, but I opened up my computer and took a look at Lola’s profiles. Her Facebook page hadn’t been touched in a couple of months, with only sporadic updates before that. Her profile on FetLife was exactly the same as the last time I had checked.

  On the other hand, the Transcendence page had lots of events listed on their calendar. It looked like they were doing more gigs than before. Maybe the addition of Lola to the mix had helped give their troop a boost.

  They were booked for the second and fourth Saturday of the month at P.S. 121, the place Josh had told me about. When I checked out P.S. 121 online, it turned out to be a performance space and art gallery with recording studios and rehearsal rooms on the upper floor. On the ground floor was the gymnasium and cafeteria of an old school that had been revitalized by the local community in Alphabet City, back when nobody wanted it.

  The calendar listed Transcendence among several acts for next Saturday at the performance space, and in the gallery in the former cafeteria space there was a show of leathercraft and steampunk art.

  It also said the TNG was going to have an outing to P.S. 121 this Saturday to take in the art show and performances. The word “TNG” caught my eye, and it took me a moment to re
member the woman I had met that first night in the Chamber—Monica. Monica had suggested that I go to TNG because that’s where I could find real kinky people my own age, not just horny guys.

  Poor Monica was also being duped by Vic, along with so many other girls.

  There were lots of reasons for me to go to P.S. 121 this Saturday. Not the least was to find out why my heart was still calling out for the things Vic had done to me, no matter how much I told myself that Victor didn’t exist. That man who held me in the palm of his hand was a figment of my imagination.

  But if I went, I had to do it right this time. I picked up my phone and texted Lola: I want to come to P.S. 121 this Saturday to see you and TNG. Is that okay?

  Hours passed before Lola finally responded: It’s my work. I can’t have drama.

  I felt unjustly accused. I almost fired back an irritated response, but then remembered that our last encounter at the Festival had been dramatic enough to spawn legendary rumors of a twin cat-fight. Lola was still mad about that.

  So I swallowed my pride and texted back: No drama. I promise.

  Lola must have been waiting because she replied: It’s open to the public. I can’t stop you.

  It couldn’t have been clearer. Lola still wanted nothing to do with me.

  But my effort was my own. I wasn’t going to give up on my sister, and if she didn’t want to talk to me, that was fine. She would know I was there if she needed me.

  I also had questions that needed to be answered about Vic. I could do that with or without Lola’s help.

  ...

  I had a tough time figuring out what to wear on Saturday night. I didn’t consult with Devi and Candice this time—things had cooled between me and Devi since our Labor Day party. I didn’t like it that Devi had told everyone we went to Pleasure Salon together. One of our 3rd floor roommates was being weirdly friendly now when I said hello in passing on the stairs.

  Finally I settled on black leggings and a chiffon blouse that looked like a runny water color in dark blue and purple. And high heels, of course. Josh had said that you could go topless at P.S. 121 so that meant people would be dressed sexier than at Pleasure Salon, but that wasn’t my style.