Page 4 of His Cruel Exception

When I hook my fingers beneath the waistband of my shorts, his hand tightens around the edge of the table. And for the first time since stepping onto the stage, I don't feel self-conscious.

I feel wanted.

I hold his gaze as I slowly drag the shorts down my thighs, and the room erupts. I step out of them and kick them aside, leaving me in nothing but my boxers briefs, glasses and the bow tie still hanging loose around my neck. The stage lights are hot against my bare skin, sweat gathering along my chest and stomach as I move through the last part of the routine, the masked man's eyes following every movement.

When I’m done with my routine, the crowd cheers, applause mixing with whistles and I stand there for a heartbeat, dazed, before I bow. I then grab my shirt from the floor and escape backstage.

I make it halfway down the hallway before stopping and pressing one hand against the wall.

Oh my God. Oh my God.

My heart is pounding, my skin is hot, and adrenaline is still rushing through me so hard that my fingers won’t stay completely still. I’m not sure whether I want to laugh or throw up.

Logan comes running toward me before I’ve fully recovered. “You did it!” He grabs me around the waist and lifts me off my feet. I barely manage to grab his shoulders before he smacks a loud kiss against my cheek. “You are so in. There’s no way you won’t get hired now,” he says, as he lowers me back to the floor. “Once you’ve rested, I’ll take you to our dressing room so you can meet the others.”

He keeps talking as we walk back to the guest dressing room, but I only catch half of what he’s saying. The moment we get inside, I promptly collapse into the chair in front of the mirror and drag my glasses off, wiping the sweat from beneath them with the edge of my shift while Logan digs through his bag and hands me a bottle of water and a bag of Cheetos.

I drink half of the water in one go, open the Cheetos and pop one in my mouth.

I look at myself in the mirror as I put my glasses back on. My hair is a mess, my cheeks are flushed, and there is still sweat along my hairline, but other than that, I look fine. I am still looking at my reflection when the dressing room door flies open so hard that it slams against the wall.

I jump in my chair.

Stacy stumbles inside, breathing hard, her eyes bright with excitement. “The hunt is starting,” she announces, and then she turns around and bolts.

I blink. “The what?”

Logan is on his feet in an instant. “Shit.” He grabs my regular shirt and throws it at me. “It must be a surprise hunt because they always inform us beforehand.”

I catch the shirt against my chest and stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

“The hunt,” he says, already pulling on his jacket. “It’s a game they run sometimes. Staff and other people can sign up, then some of the patrons chase us through the woods behind the club. If you get caught, they get to do whatever they want with you, but if you make it to the end without getting caught, you get a week’s pay tomorrow.”

Logan has never mentioned this to me before. It makes no sense that people would willingly let others chase them through the woods. There are several things that could go wrong with such an arrangement.

I finish pulling on my jeans and button them with clumsy fingers. “Where do I come in here? I’m not even hired yet.”

“It’ll be fun” Logan says. “You never do anything to unwind.”

He reaches for my hand and before I can argue further, he pulls me into the hallway. The place we walked through only a few minutes ago has already descended into chaos with people rushing in both directions. The excitement is almost infectious, except I still have no idea what is happening and everyone else seems to be operating with information I don't have.

I still don’t understand the appeal and once I’m out of this place, I’m going home. If being chased through the woods is a requirement of employment at The Bloodrot, then I can as well keep looking.

Logan pulls me through the heavy door, and the March chill blasts my face. The whole place looks different like this isn’t Payson Avenue anymore.

The music becomes a dull throb behind the club walls, and beyond the yellow security lights, the property disappears into darkness. Several heavyset men dressed in black stand along the path, directing everyone toward the back of the building, where the pavement gives way to grass and, farther ahead, a line of trees rises against the night sky.

Before I can ask Logan another question, a gunshot rings out. A voice comes through a megaphone somewhere ahead of us and I recognize it as the club’s manager. He begins rattling off rules and then ends his speech by saying there is no opting out of the hunt and the best one can do is not to get caught which is just bullshit in my own opinion.

How was I supposed to know that the nightclub I was considering as a potential source of employment had an extracurricular program involving rich people chasing half-naked employees through the woods?

When another gunshot splits the night, everyone moves at once. Logan’s hand slips from mine as bodies surge forward, people running across the grass toward the trees. For half a second I remain where I am, then someone behind me shouts at me to move.

So I do the only thing left to do in this absurd situation.

I run.

Chapter