Who, now, is the fairest one of all?

"Wake the fuck up." 

A flash of light hit the room that was so small she had to duck when walking in. 

Justine stood there, happy to see Rose's discomfort.

"I won't have you sleeping in here all day."

She flicked her cigarette and sent ashes onto Rose's face.

Rose raised her arms to defend her face. She brushed the ashes off and black smudge painted her skin. 

More sunlight hit her. She felt the slap of the morning and it stung her eyes.

"You're pathetic." With that, Justine walked out as fast as she came in.

Intrusive bitch.

Rose shifted under the sheets and pulled her dress from last night down past her hips. She flung the blue fabric across the room and it rested in front of the window. Dead like she wanted to be right now.

She looked around her bed for her purse. She needed something to help her get up.

She grabbed the silver chain and dragged it over.

Rose's shoulders ached.

Her outstretched arm was covered in bruises. She couldn't tell you from who or where or when. They would fade soon.

"I don't hear you moving in there!" A threat called from the hallway.

"I'm on it." Rose grumbled and unzipped the bag.

A small Ziploc fell onto her white sheets.

White on white, how beautiful. What a beautiful day for a snow shower. Rose smiled at her own joke.

By her dresser she had the perfect mirror. A long oval shape that she looked down onto while she snorted. Her black curls mingled over the white mound of coke. She lightly pushed them away. The mirror's edges were gold scripted little carvings with birds intertwined in the vines. Her father brought it back after his last tour from Germany.

She dumped out just enough for the morning. She had to make it last and have more for later tonight. She couldn't go to the party sober, that would be ridiculous and childish and something she hasn't done since going to Jen Smalley's roller rink party in second grade. Bobby Mullens grabbed Rose's butt every time he circled by. Dad saw and grabbed him by the throat. Jen Smalley's mother cried when dad threw Bobby down. That was the last roller rink party Rose went to, but Jen had them every year.

The day could begin now. She danced to the window and pushed out the screen so she could see the magnificent earth. The screen landed on the perfectly circular bush below. Justine had those bushes trimmed every Sunday at 6am just to spite Rose and wake her up from her magnificent, drugged slumber.

"Hellloooo friendsssss" she called out. Her arms outstretched and poised like a ballerina in the Nutcracker. Dad took her to see the Nutcracker a month before he died. Rose wore white stockings to his funeral.

She waited for bluebirds to stand on top her fingertips.

"Fuck it who needs you."

She turned to the wardrobe and pulled on black sweatpants and her red college shirt. Let's see what Justine would say about that.

-------

"Justine, I just don't know how you do it. All that stress at home and your face is flawless. You should see the women that come in here." Bernardo brushed her hair from over her cheeks and spun her chair to face his mirror. Bright bulbs bordered the mirror and had a buzzing sound if you listened close and turned the blow dryers off.

"Well, it takes a lot of effort not to age, Bern" she pursed her lips, "And of course I have you" she giggled.

"Yes, you'll always have me, my dear"

He danced around her chair towards his silver briefcase, full of vials and injectables all the housewives salivated over. Moving to this town was the best choice he ever made. Meeting Justine was by chance, at some gala for world peace or some bullshit. But since meeting her, he didn't have to go to Dirty Harry's for his long hours of handjobs. Pathetic, red poised dicks of the town’s closeted businessmen. Calling out for Bernardo and forgetting their wives named Betty or Patricia or something else ordinary and dull. He would take facejobs for rich cougars any day. Nothing was going to send him back to Dirty Harry's now that he had Justine.

"Now what are we doing today?" He asked, grinning into that malicious ice queen's weathering face.

"Well, you tell me Bern" she cocked her eyebrow up "you're the professional."

Bernardo felt his chest freeze under his vest. She didn't know anything you moron, keep going.

"Yes, of course! I have just the thing for you this fine day" He looked into his briefcase, fresh from Amazon.

Remember what Julio said, it's all about the confidence. These gold diggers don't know shit. Put it right where the wrinkles are, it's not rocket science, nino.

"Okay, perfect" he slided over to Justine "I have just the thing for my favorite client."

Justine smiled, showing each porcelain tooth under her red lipstick. Her smile always unnerved Bernardo. There was something so wrong about it, like a dog walking on two feet. Her long black hair rested over her silk bathrobe.

"So, what is it?" she pushed her shoulders back and clasped her hands. Her hands were the only thing on her that spoke her age. The brown spots clustered over blue veins, speaking decades of life on earth. Making people miserable no doubt.

"Well, a new recipe" he jumped up and down in his black Christian Louboutin loafers "I hear this is what JLO uses!"

"Oh YES!" The smile crept back up "You just never let me down, baby. Wait until Grace and the girls at the club see this."

"You'll have them GAGGING."

"I already do, but this will KILL THEM, darling."

Bernardo picked up the first vial. The liquid sloshed behind the glass with little bubbles rising over each other. Nice and easy, you're a pro.

He closed his eyes and inserted the tip of the needle in. Pulling the liquid up and up into the syringe. He turned to Justine, who thankfully and most ironically, had a fear of needles, so her eyes were closed so tight. Her false eyelashes twitched with anticipation. Bernardo could see the glue was still wet.

"Here we go" he pushed the needle in beneath her cornea. Pumping the liquid through.

"Next we have the cheeks."

"Mhmmmm" Justine tensed, waiting for the moments to pass and lead to her looking into the mirror and worshiping her reflection.

"Okay, mi amor, almost done."

"Bern, honey I have a question for you."

He froze in front of the bulbs. The light blinded him but he didn't turn away. He would rather be blind that be back in Dirty Harry's.

"Yes, my lovely, anything" he swallowed down and balled his fists tight.

"What do you think of Rose?"

"Rose? Your stepdaughter?"

"Yes, if you must call her that." He praised God that her eyes were still shut, so she couldn't see his obvious discomfort.

"She's pretty. I hear a lot of compliments about her at the saloon."

This was true. The other women in Justine's circle would go at great lengths to describe Rose's beauty and awe at the fact that she wasn’t scooped up by one of the rich playboys or CEOs. They also yapped about how Justine tried to compete with Rose's looks. Buying the same dresses as Rose, but more expensive. Dying her hair jet black like Rose's natural color. Applying that red lipstick Rose's lips were known to naturally appear. Justine tried everything she could to be Rose. Bernardo would never say that of course. That would land him right onto the curb and without any clients.

"Oh, compliments about Rose?" He could see her lip twitch in disgust. That was more like it, Bernardo thought. A scowl was natural.

"Yes," he thought of anything that could redeem himself "they talk, you know those women."

"What kind of talk?" With that, her eyes opened and addressed Bernardo's apparent paralysis.

He felt sweat drip into his loafers. The loafers that cost him more than last month's rent.

"Well, of her natural beauty" he gripped the vanity, looking into the drawer for anything to distract Justine, "what about we plump those lips today, what do you say?"

"Sure, yes I think the last one is wearing off."

She pouted her lips out and drew her index finger over them.

"What sort of compliments?"

He covered his sigh with a cough.

"Her lips... her cheeks... her eyes."

"Yes, that could be appealing."

He prepared the next injection fast, hopping her fear of needles would drive these questions away.

"Bern, honey" she sat up straighter and smoothed out the top of her raven dyed locks, "would you say Rose is more beautiful than me?"

The syringe went limp in his grip. Ever since childhood Bernardo feared lies, how great they could become. How they could spin and send you places you know you had no business being. Like injecting whatever he purchased online into Justine White's lips at her home saloon at 12pm on a Saturday.

"Incomparable! He cried.

He heard the buzzing of the bulbs and felt the heat on his skin.

“Well?”

“You’re asking me to compare Elizabeth Taylor with Kesha, dear.”

Justine giggled, peering into the mirror with an intense gaze, like she was reading the scripture off the reflection. Bernardo checked to make sure there was nothing written. She had a habit of reading her face for hours.

Her giggle came to a harsh stop, “Well, I hope you mean YOUNG Elizabeth Taylor.”

“Of course! Amor, how could you question your beauty?”

“I don’t know Bern, maybe I’ve been thinking too much lately.”

“Ah, relax. How bout I pour you a nice prosecco?”

Justine turned her eyes to the grandfather clock, “it is past noon.”

“Settled!” he poured fizzing champagne into the gold rimmed glasses that were waiting. The bubbles were ominous, waiting to pop and flatten the drink.

He knew this conversation would never be over, as long as Rose was so close by. Under this roof, somewhere. He never saw her during his visits and he had many visits. Mondays were eyebrows, Tuesdays were fingernails, Wednesdays were facials and massages, Thursdays were keratin hair treatments (and every second Thursday would be the dye), Fridays were fat freezing on her stomach, thighs, ass, and arms, Saturdays were injections, and Sundays, Sundays Bernardo rested in his studio apartment on 4th and Lex with James. James loved hearing about his days spent at Justine White’s, it was his personal soap opera, spilling with drama.

He lifted her glass, smiling as well as he could manage, “to you, my love.”

She drank it in, like she always did.

----------

It was too nice a day to be in her room. The dust made her sneeze. She pinched her nose, hoping a sneeze wouldn’t come.

“YES A LOVELY DAY FOR A WALK!” She shouted to the wallpaper, peeling off at the corners. It used to be a princess mural. With these gold flakes crusted in the pearly white. A princess danced in the middle of her room. Her long pink dress billowed in the nonexistent wind. She was frozen onto the wallpaper, dad said, for talking back to her parents. Only her prince could save her and he was miles away in a castle. White horses kneeled before her feet.

The moccasins were still wet from yesterday’s walk. It was drizzling yesterday, but she didn’t care. She had to go outside and run and stare down at the town from the hill on the north side of the forest. She went to that hill since dad died. She found it right after and pitied the fact that he never saw the hill she found. Or maybe he did and just didn’t tell you, her mind jabbed at her ribs sometimes.

Dad did a lot of shit without telling you. Like giving Justine the house and your room and your car and your whole fucking life.

“GEEZZZZZZ you sound like you’re a little too sober, ROSE” She yelled into the trees. She crossed her arms and felt her ribs. She liked to feel the dense bone. She liked to have proof she was alive and walking and full of bones and blood and nerves.

The sun was hidden in the tree tops but she bent her neck back to find it. The dirt smelled so whole and magical. She lowered to the ground and grabbed a fist full. The rocks and grains fell through her fingertips. Her palms were stained by the earth.

She took off into a run, kicking rocks and tossed branches. Birds wings sounded over her, the flaps beating the sky and pushing past leaves.

Pants came out of her chest. She could feel her heart bouncing back and forth under her red tshirt. And there she was, at the top of the hill where no one could see her but she could see all of them. She could see the cars in the distance rushing off to some dreaded appointment. The buildings like ant farms holding people walking up and up and up into their office cells. She saw them all but no one could see her.

She made sure to slow her breathing here. To sit down on the wet grass that would dampen her clothes. She took her shoes off and laid down, wondering what would happen if she just laid there forever. What would take me first?

Her stained palms crossed over her slowed heart.

Hot air pressed against her cheek. The warmth felt nice.

“Hello?”

The nice feeling was gone and her eyes opened and met two blue eyes.

Rose sat up quickly and brought a softball sized rock into her hands.

“Whoa, whoa. Just checking if you’re dead.” He motioned for her to drop the rock onto the grass with her imprint on it. He was ruining her place. The only place she had in the world.

“I’m alive. Your work is done.” Rose stood up and scanned his face. He looked so confused like it wasn’t normal to just lay on a hill on a Saturday morn----afternoon.

“I’m glad. I don’t see too many people out here. So I thought the worst.” He grabbed the hunter green straps of his backpack and repositioned them on his shoulders. His grey t shirt was stained with sweat around the color.

“It’s nice not to see people.” She coughed and smoothed out her pants. Dead lives clung to the fabric.

His eyes met hers again, but this time she wouldn’t jump. He wouldn’t scare her. He had a kind face and his smile felt true, like he didn’t just smile for the sake of doing it. His brown hair waved with the wind. She could tell he felt her staring. He cleared his throat and smiled again.

“Looking for solace, are you?” He looked out onto the same city she looked at everyday, “this is one of my favorite views.”

She panicked. It wasn’t her secret. She thought of the miles of city dwellers traveling to her peak for a look at what Yelp deemed “the best views in California.”

“Your view?” She pushed her shoulders back and in her mind scoured frantically over the legal books she read that one semester in Stanford “you’re on private property, so it’s not your view...Mr…”

“Stevens” he laughed “my name is Will Stevens.”

“Okay, Will.” She looked at him hard.

Dad said the sure way to get what you want is to act like it’s already yours. Look at people and be sure, Rose. Don’t second guess anything. Don’t hesitate. Stick to your story and it will be true. He was a natural born salesman, turned soldier. He got Rose anything she wanted and it came so easy for him. It would be his game.

“Well, these two acres are protected by the White National Wildlife Fund. You can google that on your little Iphone in case you don’t know what it is.” She circled around him, imagining his strong calves wilting away under her kicks. Maybe I should just push him off the peak, that would end Yelp-mania. They all would hear about the death that happened and wouldn’t dare coming here in fear of the killer the police never caught.

“I have heard of it” he brought his backpack down from his broad shoulders.

Stop looking at his bodyparts, Rose. Your happiness is on the line.

He unfolded a map and pointed on the middle section.

Anyone could just point on any spot on the map. That didn’t mean shit.

She waited, her arms crossing her chest. Shit, I didn’t put a bra on. She folded her arms tighter. I’m failing dad. Never cross your arms. Never bend your body and appear inferior.

“Well here is where we are” He circled with his finger, so sure, “and here is the protected land you just said we were in.” His finger traced a line away from their spot. Her spot.

“How old is that map?” She cocked her head to the left, “where is it printed?”

“It’s pretty old actually, it was my brother’s.” He folded the map and zippered it away into his backpack.

“Listen, I don’t want a law suit. But…” she placed her palm on the tree’s bark behind her. The trees gave her strength back “If I have to make one, I will.”

“I don’t want trouble.” He laughed, “No one else knows about this place and I intend to keep it that way.”

Relief puffed into her chest. She exhaled and hoped he didn’t see she was bending her will.

She couldn’t imagine losing her spot. The peak being captured on instagram and captioned with a quote from Wild or whatever shit the poor socialite was into at the moment. Mirages of marriage proposals, dog shit, litter, and bands of baby strolling moms looking for fitness outlets.

“Okay. I’ll look for another spot. I can see this place means a lot to you.” He retreated his steps further back. “I do hope I see you again, though.”

Her cheeks felt hot. She raised her right hand up over her skin. She would go first. Today’s trek was over anyway. She needed to shower. She nodded her head and put her moccasins back on. The ties were loose but she didn’t dare tie them now. She started walking back to the right. She would take a different path home in case he was some sort of murderer hidden behind a handsome face. There was that Craigslist killer.

“Wait” she heard his voice boom over the bird chirps, “what’s your name?”

Should I tell him my name? How many Roses are there in California? It’s not like he’ll find you again. Before she could decide on a name, her mouth took action and decided for her “Rose” she called out and broke into a run.

-----

“Are you ready bitch?” Courtney ran lipstick over her mouth. The fancy metal tube of lipstick she bought just to spite the bitchy cashier at Mac who thought she couldn’t afford it. Courtney paid her in cash. The thick bills exploded from her wallet and pressed firmly onto the glass counter. Courtney smudged the glass with the fingers, drawing lines and squiggles into the glass. “You better Windex that, sweetie” she said with a grin. Rose loved every moment of it. The red embarrassment rushing to the woman’s face. The thrill of being unpredictable. The thrill of going against someone’s conceptions of you.

“Ready, so ready” Rose zippered the side of her dress. The metal pulling together over her skin. She could feel the high she was going to get. She could feel the thoughts drift down and down into her drain.

“I fucking hate you, you know.” Ashley looked Rose up and down.

Rose shrugged and tossed her black hair over her shoulder. She could never see what other people saw. She hated the gaze. She felt helpless under eyes. “Let’s go.”

The silver chain rubbed over her shoulder bones. The cold metal felt like night. She lived for the dark nights at Bellow’s. The sticky floor. The tall tumblers of booze and too much ice. The bouncing lights and the stereo kicking in.

She felt a tap at her arm. Concerned Linda peered into her face. Something was wrong.

“Rose, don’t come back.” Linda swallowed.

“What?”

“ROSE COME ON!!!” Courtney called from the cab. Rose hoped she wouldn’t honk the cabbies’ horn. She would hear about that from Justine for weeks.

“Miss Justine hired someone to drug you. I’m sure of it.”

Rose laughed and put her keys back inside her purse, “she’s not that crazy.”

“Rose, please listen to me.”

Rose hugged Linda, “I have to get going, Linda.”

“Please!”

Rose left Linda at the welcome mat.

------

Justine heard the basement door slam. The chandelier drifted back and forth slowly. So slowly that Justine wouldn’t have seen it unless she was looking. “Thank god” she muttered to her vintage collection of Hermes dresses in front of her. She felt the cool silk of the hangers.

She walked to her dresser, aligned with small bottles of sweet and sexy smells. She raised her favorite, Lusty nights, and sprayed her wrist. She brought her wrists together and rubbed. The smell filled her with euphoria. She wore that smell the night she meant Henry.

“Fucking Henry who left me with that bitch daughter of his” she spoke to her bottles and picked up her champagne glass from Bernardo’s visit. She filled it three times since he left her. That little shit actually relayed compliments about Rose to her. How dare he come in my home and complement that cunt to her face.

“Pardon me, Miss Justine.”

Justine turned to her door where Linda, the housekeeper cowered. She gripped the molding with her hands.

Get your fat hands off of the molding, Linda. She inhaled her hatred for stouty Linda and answered in a tense “yes?”

“Miss Julie is here to see you. She has that thing you wanted.”

“Oh, yes!” Justine untied her hair from its ponytail, “tell her I’ll be right down.”

“Yes, Miss Justine.”

Linda’s feet sounded heavy even on the carpeting. I have to fire her soon. It’s too bad I can’t just have her deported like Sonia.

“Justine! Looking beautiful as EVER!” Julie called out from the foyer before Justine could even see her pathetic face. She needed that chin implant and she needed it fast.

“Oh Julie, stop it!” She rolled her eyes and clasped Julie’s clammy hands. Justine hated touching anyone. But you had to grin and bear it in this town.

Julie kissed both of Justine’s cheeks in a quick rhythm. And stood poised on the camel colored carpeting Justine had flown from France last month. The threads were to die for. It’s the little touches that count. The little touches made Justine appear in Beverly Luxury for two issues. If it wasn’t incredibly tacky she would’ve had her spread hanging in the living room, but she settled for clip outs in her jewelry box instead.

“So…” She cleared her throat and revisited Julie’s too anxious gaze “Linda said you had something for me.”

“Do I ever?” Julie motioned to the couch.

“How about we go upstairs into my husband’s study. It’s very business” Justine walked down the hall before Julie could answer. She would follow like a dog, she always did. Look at her here now, jumping at the chance to be in Justine’s good graces.

The lighting was dim in the study. Big leather chairs sat on the opponent's side of the desk, while his chair was monstrous, giving the power Justine loved and needed.

“Brandy?” Justine asked, bringing her champagne to her fuller lips “you look like a brandy drinker, my love.”

Justine knew it would put Julie in her inferior place. The place Julie belonged. Only big, bulging men with receding hairlines drank brandy out of short chode glasses. Dreaming of women they could buy between gulps.

“No thank you” Julie wilted in her chair. The leather would stick to her thighs. She should be sweating. Sweating into my husband’s coveted chairs. Justine scowled, I’ll have them cleaned by Linda tomorrow. Right before I fire her.

Julie ruffled her damaged blonde hair. Over dyed by Julio, no doubt. He wasn’t as good as Bernardo. Who knows where he learned how to dye hair.

“I found someone downtown who would do it tonight. I just have to call her once you give me the go ahead.”

Justine had thought about doing this long enough. Today was the last straw when Bernardo babbled and handed her champagne just to change the subject. No one was going to stop her. She had enough. It’s been years. Years of the gossip, the compliments from her friends, the men who dated her only asking about Rose as time went on. She would have no more of it. And who would miss Rose? Justine was her only relative left. She did the research just to make sure last weekend.

“I already told you. I’m sure.” Justine poured brandy from the decanter into the chode glass Julie belonged in. Liquid courage was what this cunt needed. Justine was so sure but Julie would be the only one preventing this from going on.

Justine was positive that Julie was desperate enough to follow her every plan. She knew Julie’s dreams of Saturday hair appointments and galas and balls and a chair on her charity, the White National Wildlife Fund. Justine made it her business to know just how weak Julie was. And boy, was she weak. Julie didn’t even have a first, second, or third husband. She had no children, no french decor, and certainly no spreads in Beverly Luxury. If Julie was lucky she would be covered in the Beverly Hills Pet of the Week.

“If you’re sure. I’ll call her now and confirm. Rose left already, right?”

“Yes.” Justine clenched her teeth together. Julie could make me break a tooth I swear to fucking god and now I get a lifetime of her following me around on my coattails.

“The girl knows who Rose is and the stuff works. It’ll be two hours tops, and she’ll be gone.” Julie dug in her fake Chanel for her phone. Frantic. The most pressure she’s ever been in, I’m sure. The fund should have a gala to save Julie from being even more pathetic, but they don’t do hopeless causes. What was the point?

“It’s me. Do it.” Justine listened to hear if there were words on the other end. She wanted to hear confidence. The voice of an achiever. Not some strung out slut that Julie found in an alley.

“Yep.” The voice returned and the dial tone sounded. That was all the girl needed.

“Now, what shall we do about you, Julie?” Justine stood up from behind the desk with her glass in her hand. She heard Julie’s heart beating, beating. She could picture beads of sweat populating under the tacky blazer Julie wore. Julie’s off-brand deodorant rushing to her defense but failing, miserably.

------

“Dance, you slut!” Courtney’s hips rolled back and forth. She bent and shook her hair, thrashing the golden mane with the music.

Rose closed her eyes. The high was just hitting her. She felt her limbs tingle. Her eyes couldn’t focus on anything. The lights formed lines over the mass of people crowded on the dancefloor. The drink in her hand kept slipping down, longing to crash onto the floor.

She felt a sudden rush. A beckoning need to jump and swing and tear and crash. She wanted to take her dress off. She wanted to stand naked and unseen. She wanted to lay on the floor and be stepped and kicked and blended into the black tile. Rose jumped and held Courtney’s hands. The beat made her move with the sea of sweating bodies. Their arms waving and their elbows piercing the sides of their neighbors. The lights colored in her skin, doodling and highlighting her freckles. She stared at her illuminated hands and longed for the brightness.

“MORE DRINKS” Courtney grabbed her by the forearm and pulled. Rose felt weightless and drifted into bodies, unknowing that they were even touched.

Rose waited behind Courtney. Her hips still moving like they never left the space. She shifted in her heels. The tight straps would leave red lines over her snow skin. A map of her nights with blisters and bruises and cuts and thirst.

She looked forward at Courtney, talking to some tall blonde girl with a glittering gold dress. The light played with the glitter, bouncing over her and then back across like a piano.

“Rose, this is Amanda” Courtney’s hands held Amanda’s shoulders. Amanda didn’t look happy to be touched. She didn’t look fucked up at all. She sipped her vodka soda through a small black straw.

“Hi” Rose said, swallowing and aching for her next drink.

“Amanda has some friends she wants us to meet” Courtney screamed over the bass and handed Rose her drink. A drink she definitely would never pay her own money for.

Before Rose could answer they were traveling far from the masses with their drinks. Rose drifted. She was in a tunnel. A rat in a tunnel looking for anything to feed on. Her heels moved without her and the back door of the club opened, releasing them into the night. It must’ve been late. The line was gone and Boomer wasn’t checking for ID.

“My friends have a ride, if you’re down.” Amanda jingled keys in her hand and left the glass on the dumpster’s cover.

“We’re always down.” Courtney answered for both of them. She always did that.

Amanda nodded and started walking.

---

The car was in the back parking lot. The streetlights avoided the car, concentrating on the sidewalk and the dumpster they just left. An Audi. Rose knew Courtney was excited. She gripped Rose’s hand and giggled.

Amanda opened the door for them without saying a word.

Two men were waiting. One in the driver’s seat, one in the back seat. All Rose could see were his big hands and his dress shoes. No one wore dress shoes to the club. His hands grabbed Courtney and pulled her closer.

“Amanda, got some lookers huh?”

Amanda was gone. Rose couldn’t see her glittering gold. She couldn’t see anything. The car started and crept into motion.

“Now girls, we’re about to have some fun.”

The man in the driver's seat turned around. Rose could see his faced, a thin triangle of light from the dashboard showed his grin.

They were heading to the parkway. Rose looked to Courtney. She was cuddled next to the man in the seat. She wouldn’t be paying attention to Rose now.

“Where are we going?” Rose’s voice felt like clumps of dirt. She felt a sickness run over her.

“You’ll see” the driver turned on his blinker and merged onto the bare parkway.

They past more and more green street signs, designating sleeping towns and unlit homes. She felt herself drifting into the seat. “Take some blow, honey. It’ll make you feel better” Courtney’s suitor lifted a vial to her nose. Courtney took some before her. She slumped back and smiled, nodding for Rose to do it too.

Rose took the vial into her own hands. She dabbed it into her nose and inhaled. Whatever was going to happen tonight, she needed something. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe they would let Rose stay at their place. Maybe she wouldn’t have to go home. Maybe she never had to see Justine again.

She turned to the window. The power locks jumped into the locked position. “Safety is our priority” the driver laughed and went on. He turned the jazz music up and beat the steering wheel with his hands.

Rose made out the sign for White National Park. 3 miles.

The trees could be the same people from the club. They clustered and danced in the wind that Rose couldn’t feel on her own. She wanted to feel the wind. She wanted to stand up with them.

Rose looked at Courtney. Courtney’s head laid on the man’s suit shoulder. She could see a stream of blood fall from Courtney’s nose. Her eyes were wide. They weren’t looking at anything. Rose waved her hands slowly, and reached out. The man was busy with his phone. He shook his head. Courtney didn’t move from his shoulder. Rose held her mouth. Her chapped lips could cut her palm. Two men.

She touched the silver lock. The car kept drifting. She felt panic fall down like a blanket over her bare shoulders. In her bag, she remembered the pepper spray she found in Justine’s car. She took it in her purse in case drug dealers tried anything. Courtney and her dealt with weird characters regularly. The navy blue can with red letters she swore she didn’t need.

The man next to Courtney spoke “Yo, we need to hurry this up. Simon’s got something for us to do.”

The car sped down the empty road. Rose’s hands searched for the bag at her feet. She moved slow, inching like the caterpillars she let walk across her arms while she laid on her hill. The can was heavy and she could hear the liquid hit the metal. She held down and aimed for his eyes. The eyes closest to her. He cursed and grabbed his head by his hands, dropping the phone. She aimed quick for the driver and pulled the door handle. She felt her body be taken by the speed.

Rolling, rolling, rolling. The asphalt felt like nothing against her. She was in the leaves. She was in the grass. She was gone. She stood too quickly and hurdled over the divider. The trees welcomed her. She kept running and never turned. Branches flung, trying to grab her and pull her closer and closer in.

She laid at the center of the clearing. Beneath the edge of a mossy log. She couldn’t hear anyone or anything. She listened, put her ear to the floor of the woods.

She felt warm liquid drip from her nose and into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back into her skull and her body went limp.

------

“Hello?” hands grabbed her shoulders and shook “hello?”

Her eyes opened and closed.

She felt her body lifted from the leaves. Her feet dangled down over the grasp.

“Hello?” more hands grabbed her shoulders this time.

She couldn’t open her eyes.

More and more “hello’s” filled her ears.

She looked up. A small room with wooden walls that looked like they grew there along with the picture frames and momentos. Rose opened her eyes wider, looking for anything to recognize in the room. The fleece blankets around her covered a red flannel shirt and pants that were too big on her body.

Rose tried to stand. The boards under her feet groaned in unison.

Anxious footsteps came out from a creaking door. She met a white bearded face. Small eyes danced behind wiry silver frame glasses. He stood over Rose with his baseball hat in his hands, wringing the blue hat out like it was full of water. He was wide and wearing faded overalls over the same shirt Rose wore. She thought quickly about him undressing her and had to run. She had to run.

She tried to move past him and to the door.

“NO NO NO” He held her back, “You need rest now. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe here.”

Pain ran from her feet, over her stomach, and stayed in her arms. Her hands were bandaged and dried blood dotted the gauze. Her knees felt weak and she sat back down on the bed. If he bandaged me he must be good.

“Hungry?” He walked to the nightstand and brought a bowl before her. The spoon drifted into the red soup, falling closer to the middle.

She nodded.

Knocks sounded at the door. Quick, impatient knocking.

“Will you stop it!” He called out.

“We just want to know if she’s okay.”

“She’s fine you idiots, now get ready for work.”

Rose grinned. He had the same way of yelling her father did. Stern, but you could tell there was kindness under. She missed his yells for school and the bus and for coming home too late. She wanted to bury herself under the sound.

“Stay as long as you like. We’re heading out soon” he took the empty bowl and walked backwards to the door, “I can trust you won’t steal anything?”

“Thank you, I won’t” Rose laid her head back.

“Tell her we hope she’s feeling better” More yells crept from the open door.

“Let her be now.”

The door shut and Rose felt safe. She drifted back into the dark of her shut eyelids.

---

“Miss?” She opened her eyes and saw a sea of faces. Concerned and scared faces, maybe even more scared than she was. They looked so similar. Old men with long beards and short beards, glasses, and flannel, and kind eyes.

She struggled to sit up. The bandages pulled at her skin when she moved. Everything throbbed. She could use a pick me up. She looked around the room and saw her bag hanging on a small wooden chair.

“Hello” she smiled. The smile made her head ache.

“Now you’ve done it! Now she’s hurt again!”

The man from before stood up in front of the rest.

“Let her be now.”

“I’m okay really, thank you.” She longed for her bag and the pills inside. They would think she was a druggie. No one trusts druggies. She had to wait.

“Water?”

One of the men lifted water to her lips. It felt as good as the drugs might. Nothing would feel as good as the oxy and some coke. She adjusted her body and the pillows under her.

“Thank you, you all are too kind.”

“So, what’s your story?” One called out, rolling up his blue sleeves and crossing his arms.

What is my story? She thought of what felt like weeks before. The club. The men. Courtney. Oh god Courtney. Courtney was definitely gone. Her only friend. She could see the car door hanging open and her body crashing into the forest.

“I don’t really remember” she lied. What if they knew how fucked up I was? They would never let me stay and I can’t go back home. I should’ve fucking listened to Linda.

“We’re having dinner if you want to try to walk.” Dozens of arms rushed to her side. Waiting for her to grab and hoist herself up.

----

“What the fuck do you mean, she escaped? It was a goddamn CAR and she was FUCKING HIGH YOU IDIOTS.” Justine slammed her fists onto her vanity. The mirror waved back and forth, threatening to crash.

“She just did” Julie didn’t dare enter her room, she knew she was finished, “she has to be dead though, she flew out of the car and who knows where she ended up.”

“Did they try running after her? Where did she jump?” Justine hoped the little bitch was dead. She longed to see her lying in a ditch being found by some jogger.

“Yes they know the spot” Julie hugged herself, a weird little tic she had that pissed Justine off even more than her presence, “a cop showed up so they had to duck out. They had her friend in the backseat.”

“Show me where.” Justine knew she had to finish this herself. How could she have thought sniveling little Julie with absolutely no style or smarts could pull this off? “Our deal is finished unless you show me the spot.”

Justine sat at her vanity. Thinking through possible ways she could kill Rose if she wasn’t already dead. The thoughts thrilled her. She was more excited than the day Birkin presented her with their rose gold, limited edition bag. The other women in her circle could only dream of being on the Birkin waiting list. But there Justine was, holding the bag like it was yesterday’s newspaper in her hands.

--------

“So, you really don’t remember anything?” Paul passed her a plate of diced potatoes. Butter dripped over the crevices.

“Nothing.” Rose scooped more chicken onto her potatoes. Dad’s cooking came in handy. She added green beans with mushroom. Rose felt bad lying to them. They helped her with everything. They made her feel so welcome. More welcome than in her own home.

The thought of leaving made her sick, so she pushed the thoughts aside with the bowls and filled saucers.

“I can tell you what I saw, if that would help” Harry quieted the rest of the table. They were in the dining room, to the left of the bedroom Rose slept in. The table looked like one of those vintage pieces middle-aged snobs like Justine couldn’t appreciate. It could’ve been carved from a tree outside, Rose wouldn’t put it past them.

The clatter stopped and the other men waited for Harry to go on. He was one of the older men in their group. They owned a wood chopping business and traveled from site to site, helping developers chop where they needed. Rose wondered if they felt guilty, being so buried in nature when they were destroying it during the 9 to 5. She never asked. That would be rude of her to judge. She had nothing to her name but the purse and red dress she came in. Rose liked it, being without anything.

“I was just heading to work on our normal path. The one that cuts through the gorge. And I saw silver. Sun hit this little silver thing and beamed down. I thought it mightve been a bike or something someone dumped.”

“But it was you!” Paul chimed in. He always wanted to do that, take the tension away. Rose learned when they tried to get her to walk earlier in the week. She couldn’t stand yet. She would’ve gotten her bag and her stash if she could stand. They never let her alone once she could. They planned dinners, played her their favorite music, watched the news with her. She felt like they knew and were trying to distract her from her purse, for her own good.

“It was. You were torn up pretty badly. You had so many gashes and scrapes. You wouldn’t move.” Harry cleared his throat, “I thought you were dead but I heard your little heart. Your head just bobbed back and I knew I couldn’t leave you.”

Rose looked down at her arms, healing slowly. She wanted to see under the bandages. She wanted her hurt to be real. She didn’t deserve Paul and Harry and Jim and Ed and Will and Steve and Ted. They were good men.

“I carried you back here and bandaged you up. You slept for a couple hours and then begged me not to call the cops or tell anyone you were here.” He looked curiously at Rose but she was focused on her arms.

“So, you were our secret guest the last week.”

“Thank you for everything.”

“You’ll tell us when you’re ready.” Harry said, “pass the gravy, Ted.”

They nodded their heads and the clatter resumed as if it never stopped. Rose couldn’t tell them because she didn’t know herself. What could she say? I followed a girl to an Audi for drugs but oh wait, my step mother really set it up so men would kidnap and drug me? I couldn’t say that. They would call the cops.

Figure something soon, then.

Rose lost her appetite but kept eating just to put the men at ease.

“How about we take a trip outside tomorrow?” Bill said, “I’ve been dying to show ya our garden.”

-----

The music blared and Rose could see the speakers jump like excited little terriers ready to go outside. She felt the hair at the back of her neck lift and goosebumps spread.

“Come on Rose, let’s get fucked up!” Courtney cried in the middle of the sea. The dancers pushed her. Hands covered her face and pressed her down. Courtney’s arms frantically dug out from the strange bodies.

Rose ran towards them and tripped. She was stuck among the littered glasses and bent straws and stray ice. She pulled herself up but they took turns pushing her back down. They laughed and laughed as she struggled. “Courtney!!” Rose screamed, digging her nails into the arms of the sea. They laughed louder and slapped her down.

“Who’s Courtney?”

Rose saw Bill standing in her doorway with a new pile of clothes for today. He held a white porcelain coffee cup in his left hand. The steam rose up and disappeared.

“No one, sorry it must’ve been a nightmare.”

Bill laid the clothes down at the foot of her bed.

“You gonna be okay?” He wouldn’t leave until she said yes, so she did and he left for her to change.

Their side of the preserve was denser. The trees spread around and circled the path. Dipping hills lead to smaller clearings. She could spot a couple deer, standing in the brush. They were motionless and regal. Then they ran together, leaving Rose alone in the clearing. She couldn’t see them any longer and turned back to find Bill. She could see the garden now.

Something told her to keep walking. The forest pulled her through more trees and over more mounds. She heard water trickling ahead. She ducked under and outlying branch and saw the lake.

Birds left the trees and moved on. Tracing the same path as the deer. It was silent, just the trickling water and Rose. She didn’t know how far her walk took her or if the guys would be worried. Of course they would worry. She was their wounded bird.

Rose heard the click of metal and steps coming toward her. She turned to see and there she was. Justine stood by the clearing with her father’s gun in her hands. Justine smiled and waved. Her finger twitched on the trigger. Rose felt a pierce hit her chest and fell back into the lake. Her eyes closed and she let herself drift back and back into the cool water.

Another round went off. She waded farther out and felt herself being released.