Chapter 17– His Angel

"You know, you don't have to unleash your ‘I’m-going-through-the-worst-kind-of-pure-unadulterated-suffering’ look," Valeria says lightheartedly. "You'll be fine, Cara.”

"No, I won't." I shake my head vigorously to send the point home. “Leone is a fucking psycho. Look, I know it's not all that obvious and not a lot of people will agree with me on this ‘cause at face value he looks so sane but the man is truly messed up.”

"Cara–”

"Valeria, trust me on this–”

How do I even tell her one of the reasons I am so convinced is because some nights ago he stripped and drenched me in ice-cold water because I tried to escape the facility… and that my pussy was busy creaming itself while he did that? How do I tell her he is fast-turning me into a freak?

I have no idea how to. I can't– so I don't. 

But she looks sympathetic anyway. "If it helps, the other girls greatly envy you. The other day when Leone asked everyone else to leave the target practice hall and had that very private conversation with you, it was all they were talking about."

"Dear God." The girls must think we're an item– which we're not. Even though I don't know what we are, I definitely know it's not that. It can't be.

"You know, he hardly ever comes to the training building for evaluation, but he's been showing up more often to watch our practice sessions," Valeria continues. "And it started when you first arrived from the hospital. It's like something about you changed when you woke up from your coma and suddenly you're all he sees."

"You're making it worse, dammit." I blow out a heavy breath. "Has this ever happened before?"

"No."

"No?"

"He doesn't play with the dolls," she states. "He’s the kind of guy that separates business from pleasure with a very firm line."

In other words, I am the problem. I always knew it. "I have to get him off my back," I tell her.

"What, you don't want him?"

Now that's an interesting question. She, like everyone else, knows that practically any woman with two working eyes would gladly fall at his feet so I clarify. "I don't like the fact that I do." Among other things. "I'm off men, you see– a sort of indefinite celibacy pledge."

"Oh… kay." She furrows her brows. "So you're not going to the club to score a date then."

"No, I just want to get wasted."

Her grin is slow– already celebrating having convinced me. "You're coming after all."

"If you are a hundred percent sure he won't find out we snuck out." While I have a feeling I might regret this, I'm dealing with a lot right now and I do need the alcohol. It doesn't help that there are rules about drinking in the Dollhouse too on top of everything else we can't do– like escape.

"He’s not going to catch us,” Valeria answers. "He's not even in the country– took a trip two days ago." 

No wonder I have been getting some much-needed respite. The jerk is not even home. "So what's the plan?"

She smiles. "We steal a ride from one of the garages at the underground level when it goes dark. I know how to disable the siren that goes off when a vehicle leaves without proper clearance so the pick-up will be a breeze. And since all facility cars give off a special radio frequency that unlocks all the gates within the premises on approach, there will be no problems with exit either.”

"But?”

"We have to take the back entryway because there are less cameras there. It's also much darker so CCTV footage won't be able to put actual faces to the unauthorized departure it captures– ours– in the time frame the missing automobile is not accounted for.”

"I thought you said–”

"I could do the alarm, yes. Not stop the routine check on garage transport that happens every six hours, plus all-round camera surveillance that already exists,” she corrects. "On the bright side though, while all the cars have tracking chips on them, it isn't usually until twelve hours of absence that any one of them that is missing is traced– more than enough time for us to leave, party, return and pretend like nothing happened. If we're not found out, the guards will assume a higher-up took the car with the right authentication– leading to no security buzz in the first place. And since they can't go asking the top boys what they were out doing with four-wheelers that are usually naturally easily accessible to them for work or play, that will be the end of that.”

In summary, a fool-proof-ish plan with the emphasis on ‘–ish.’

*

It didn't take Valeria and I long to get to a night club once we successfully stole the limited-edition vintage coupé she had the presence of mind to take her time choosing. As soon as we cleared the institute’s back access route and joined the connecting road, we sped down until we reached the city and rolled into the first neon-streaked structure we happened upon. 

The place is full, noisy, and visibility couldn't have been worse with all the flashing odd coloured lights– the kind that would give anyone a migraine or worsen an already existing one… 

Perfect. 

Valeria and I hit the bar as soon as we enter, starting with perfunctory shots of tequila. It feels good, I'm not going to lie, so I take some more and after a while, my insides start to feel warmer and the world begins to spin slightly on its axis. That is when Val and I join the dance floor. It's crazy there, dizzying illumination, sweaty, dancing bodies, and loud bass that seems to take a bit of my ear drums with every tune dominating the space.

"I'm so glad I came!" I pause my dancing to scream at Valeria 

She looks just as excited. "What?"

"I'm so glad I came!"

"What?"

"Get fucked." But I'm grinning. And she's right. The music is so deafening I can barely hear myself speak, yet I'm totally having fun. For one, I'm not as afraid of Leone as I would ordinarily be. I assume this is courtesy of the alcohol, but that was the aim in the first place. I'm not complaining at all.

Minutes of intense gyration to hip-hop later, Valeria turns to me, screaming something. I can barely understand  her, but since she is pointing to the bar, I assume she's going to get more drinks. I totally approve so I nod and tell her: "Hurry!"

She's only gone for a minute when across from the hall I catch sight of an all-too familiar face and a cold sweat covers me from top to bottom. I can't even move– I'm too frozen to do anything, including breathe. I only start to take some air into my system when I have successfully convinced myself that he hasn't seen me yet. His eyes are currently on one of the other men who share his table, conversing in low tones with the shady, drug baron-type and some woman whose seat currently backs the dance floor.

He looks as hot as ever in a white shirt that is unbuttoned at the collar, tie loosely done like he has tugged on it quite a number of times from strain and exhaustion, hair tousled remorselessly, every inch of him oozing boredom, tiredness and an ‘I-just-got off a-six-hour-flight-from-a-trip-you-were-unfortunate-enough-to-still-believe-I-was-on jetlag.

Well… fuck. 

I just knew something like this was itching to happen. To think Valeria and I had picked this club at random. Either my luck is so fucking messed-up or the universe gets a sick thrill from putting me through some of the most uncomfortable situations known to man. 

The thoughts are still running in my head ten a second when I notice Leone raise his head to face the dance floor. It is at that moment that I grab the man nearest to me and embrace him. The drunk dancer would have been more surprised but for the gallon he must have already ingested prior– he doesn't make a fuss as I bury my face in his chest and we glide with the slowing beat. But this doesn't seem to convince Leone. From the corner or my eye, I see him seat up, watching my dance partner's back. 

So I kiss the guy. A random stranger. I meet his lips as the blinking red, green and blue lights flash on us, further obscuring my face and features. At that distance, I know Leone won't know it's me, so when he finally turns away and relaxes, I score for myself a small victory.

But right after that I want to leave. I dodge behind some heads and leave the dance floor trailed by a confused and disoriented boozed guy. I meet Valeria at the bar, empty one of her shots and tell her we have to leave. 

She peers around me. "You finally met a guy? Nice."

"I don't even know him. I just used him."

"You used me?"

And so ends the story of the random guy. 

Valeria and I leave soon after and I brief her on how Leone nearly caught me.