Daddy's Demands

Chapter One

Nina

“Have another shot!”

Carrie screams the words into my ear, but I barely flinch. Heck, I can barely hear her over the thundering, thumping bass music surrounding us in the dim, sultry blue-lit club.

I can already feel the effects of the first sugary-sweet shot she’s forced on me that tasted vaguely of lemon and vanilla. Ick. I can feel it warming its way through my stomach, making my head spin a little with the heady rush of the alcohol. Or maybe that’s the music, and the throbbing mass of people dancing and swaying and grinding all around us. But it’s probably the drink.

I’d say I don’t normally drink, but that’s putting it lightly. The sugary shot I’ve just downed is my second drink ever. The first being the half-warm beer that Teddy Genaro convinced me to drink at the bonfire party he dragged me to a week after graduation. The beer was gross, but Teddy trying to put his hands up my skirt was even grosser. So, my whole first foray into drinking was cut pretty short when I’d slapped his hand away and walked home in a huff.

But Carrie? And Lauren, and Kendra? Well, they’re a different breed. Carrie’s my roommate over in the freshman dorm of Cartwright College. Lauren and Kendra are two other girls who are pledging Delta Pi Kappa along with Carrie, and this is certainly not their first time drinking. Or second. And judging from the way Kendra is giggling at the way the guy she just met five minutes ago is sliding his hand up her leg past the hem of her skirt, I’m pretty confident they’ve done a whole lot of that before too.

Clubs are not my scene. Neither is drinking, obviously. But after coming up with lame excuses for the last two months of living with Carrie as to why I couldn’t or wouldn’t go out with her for the night, I guess I finally ran out of excuses.

Well, that and… well, that.

What I saw four days ago.

I shake my head, hard, trying to knock the memories and the visuals of that scene from my head. Carrie turns, beaming wickedly at me like she can’t wait to further corrupt me. She presses another of the sickly sweet lemon-vanilla shots into my hands, and this time, I don’t even hesitate. I knock it back, my cheeks burning hot as the alcohol slides down my throat. The more experienced girls cheer and snap pictures, like this is some sort of occasion.

My blood pumps hotter as the shot settles into my stomach, and I force a smile to my face. But, the visuals are still there. The images.

The sounds.

The side street I had no business walking down that late at night, all alone. The man on his knees in the alley, pleading up at the three men standing around him. The tall one with the slicked-back, bleached-blond hair laughing as he pointed the gun at the man on the ground. The thought in my head that this couldn’t be real—that this must be a movie shoot that I’ve stumbled into. This isn’t real life—people don’t hold guns to other people’s foreheads in dark alleys in real life, right?

But then there’s the shot, and the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. And the blood, everywhere. I’m barely aware of the scream wrenching from my mouth, the world blurring past me as I turn and run—I run faster than I’ve ever run in my life, my heart and my screams caught in my throat until I make it back to campus.

That was four days ago, and not a moment has gone by when I don’t feel like there’s a shadow behind me. Not a night that’s gone by when I don’t wake up to the imaginary sound of a gun going off.

So, yeah, that’s why I’ve run out of excuses for why I won’t come out with Carrie. Because tonight, I’m done with the feeling of dread that I can’t escape. Tonight, I’m trying Carrie’s way. Tonight, I’m done being the good girl. I’m going to get drunk—real good and drunk. I’m going to follow these girls’ leads, and let my hang-ups and inhibitions go.

And maybe that’s what I need. Maybe that’s what it’ll take to finally just forget about what I saw.

Another shot gets pressed into my hand. My head’s spinning, and my face feels hot. God, my whole body feels hot. Carrie and Lauren and Kendra are laughing, and even if I kind of get the feeling that they’re laughing at me, I push it away. No psychoanalyzing tonight. No second-guessing. Just go with it.

Someone bumps into me, skin teasing across my bare midriff. I hug an arm around myself, once again really feeling how out of place I am. How not ‘me’ I am right now. The tiny tank top that ends about four inches under my breasts. The strappy heels. The ridiculous short little skirt that makes me feel like I’m showing my underwear off to everyone with every freaking step. All of it borrowed from Carrie, of course, since this is a hundred miles from anything even close to what I’d usually ever wear. She even made me go out with her earlier and buy the underwear I’m wearing—this ridiculously flimsy little strip of lacy pink thong.

But again, I have to stop overthinking everything. Tonight, I just have to let go and see if finally going wild for once will push the memories of that night out of my head. I push a loose tendril of my blonde hair back behind my ear, smiling at my roommate and her friends.

“Cheers!”

They laugh again, probably at me, but I ignore it as I knock the third drink back. A hand slides across my hip, and I startle, choking a little on the last of the drink before I turn. The guy is probably a year or two older than my eighteen, with brown hair cut into a very jock-like look and a thin little line of a beard drawn across his jaw. He’s cute, sort of, in a way. Even if that facial hair is all sorts of creepy.

“Hey, sexy.”

“Uh, hi.”

Carrie snickers behind me. “Go for it!” she giggles into my ear, pushing me into the guy.

All I’ve told Carrie is that I don’t have ‘a lot of experience.’ I haven’t told her that, specifically, I have zero experience, because I was too embarrassed. I felt like a loser bringing up my total lack of any sort of sexual history after she let loose on day one of being roommates about the multitude of guys she’s done all sorts of things with.

“Looking for a good time tonight?” the guy says coolly, his eyes hooded and his hand lingering on my hip.

“I—”

Not really? Not with you? This isn’t like me at all and I just want to go home and watch a movie on my laptop?

But, something stops me from saying any of those things. Maybe it’s the horrible memories of the man getting shot. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Or maybe it’s just me being tired of being the good girl. Maybe it’s time to be a Carrie, or a Lauren, or a Kendra for once. After all, this is college. And, isn’t all this exactly what I’m supposed to be doing? Getting drunk? Going out dancing? Getting wild with strange, somewhat cute boys?

And so I don’t say no.

“Maybe?”

He grins. “Maybe you and I should have a drink then.”

It’s a blur of my roommate and her friends giggling behind us, and the guy high-fiving the guy who’s been all over Kendra for the last few minutes. Apparently they’re buddies. The guy with his hand still on my hip turns and yells an order over the noise at the bartender, and turns back a minute later with two clear drinks over ice.

“Vodka soda your drink?”

“Uh—”

No? I have no idea?

“Yep!”

I drink it quickly, feeling the music and the neon blue lights wash over me. The guy moves closer, and suddenly, he pulls the drink from my hands.

“How about we go somewhere?”

I feel my cheeks burn, and a little knot of worry burning in my stomach.

“Uh, where?”

He grins. “Knew you were down for a good time. Men’s room is this way, baby.”

He takes my hand and starts to drag me away. Panic jolts through me, and my eyes dart to Carrie. But she just smiles and gives me a quick hug.

“Hey, just have fun, okay? Girls night out, Nina!” she whoops, hoisting her drink up in the air and cheering with her friends as the guy with the weird facial hair pulls me away through the dark club.

Part of me wants to just pull away, and run away. But then, the other part of me doesn’t do a thing. After all, maybe this is what I need, right? To forget everything I saw? After all, why not? People are always saying that virgins make sex a bigger deal than it really is. I mean, it’s just sex. Again, this is what I’m supposed to be doing as a college freshman, right? Getting wild? Getting drunk?

Losing my v-card in a club bathroom to a stranger?

Suddenly, it’s like the real me inside finally breaks free of the little cage I’ve stuck her in all night, and I stop short. The guy glances back when I stop letting him drag me along.

“What’s up?”