Page 52 of Brave
I’m brave.
Only, she wasn’t and like the riff off some old Sesame Street song playing in the back of her head, all she could think was: B is for broken, that’s good enough for me... Broken, broken, broken starts with B…
The rhythm of it was awful, and it wouldn’t stop echoing in her head and in the tunnel, punctuated by the briskness of their footsteps as she followed Carlson to the check-in desk.
“How’s your week been?” Danny asked as Carlson signed them in.
“Good so far. Is the boss man in?”
“As far as I know, he’s in his office. If you don’t see Klara at the bar,” the security guard winked, “you might want to knock first.”
Chuckling, Carlson took her hand again and together they walked into the dungeon. It was still early in the night. The lights were turned down low and the ambient rock music turned up, both creating the perfect atmosphere for hardcore fucking and impact play. No one was playing yet. In fact, the only people she could see were club employees, busily setting up for another decadent evening.
“Stool,” he told her, tapping a corner of the bar as he passed it on his way to Spencer’s office.
The door was closed, but she watched as he propped his shoulder against the wall and knocked. Less than twelve feet away, although she could hear Spencer’s grim bark and the low rumble of Carlson’s reply, but the music drowned out the words. For her, anyway. Apparently, Spencer had no problem hearing anything because his office door snapped open.
He emerged, jerking at his belt to get it buckled again, glaring at the other dom. “You want to run that by me again?”
Sitting on her stool, that was all Puppy heard for the few seconds it took Carlson to say whatever he did to make Spencer suddenly look past him and lock eyes on her. That look went straight through her gut. She clutched her hands tightly, trying not to fidget throughout the few seconds it took the club’s manager to switch his attention back on Carlson.
He did not speak again, but after a moment, Spencer went back into his office. Just before his door closed, the bartender came waltzing out.
“Jerk,” she said, marching past Carlson in knee-high fuck-me boots. She gave the skirt of her overly sexualized schoolgirl outfit an adjusting tug. “Your timing sucks, by the way.”
“Not my fault you didn’t have a longer honeymoon.” Trying not to smile, he followed her back to the bar. Planting himself on the stool next to her, he patted Puppy’s hip. “You’re up, honey.”
Staring from annoyed bartender to him, she startled. “I’m what?”
“Spencer’s going to help you practice for your interview.”
“Wh-what?” The woozy beat of her own pulse thundered in her temples. “I can’t. I can’t!”
“Of course, you can. Practice makes perfect.”
“C-can’t I practice with you?”
“Yes, and we might later on, but it’s not the same thing. Spencer is a boss. He hires and fires people all the time, and he intimidates you as much if not more than anyone you could possibly meet at the library.”
“Oh, he doesn’t, either,” Klara scoffed on her Dom’s behalf.
“Yeah, he does.” Playfully, he bumped Puppy’s shoulder with his own. “Don’t feel bad. He intimidates everybody.”
Her backpack purse clutched to her chest, she stared down the dark hallway to Spencer’s office. God, she didn’t want to go down there. She would almost have preferred to go back to Ethen than to go down there.
“He doesn’t, either!” Although starting to take offense, Klara still managed a thin laugh. “Really, he’s not that bad!”
“Yeah. He really is.” Carlson smiled and as if talking to a small child, said, “You just don’t notice anymore because he lets you play with his tinkle stick.”
Trying to cover her laugh with affront, Klara threw a dry table rag at him.
Puppy jumped when he playfully bumped her shoulder again. Snapping her gaze from the door back to him, she became pinned. He was smiling, but the look he gave her was more serious than playful.
“Go on,” he said. “You’ve got this.”
She was going to throw up, she just knew it.
Sliding off the barstool, she gave him a last imploring look, which he ignored. On knees that felt anything but steady, she walked down the hall to that closed office door. The thump of the ambient music reverberated in the close confines of the hallway. She could feel the vibration of it through the floor, but loud as it was, it didn’t begin to touch that horrible Sesame Street-esque ‘B is for Broken’ playing on perpetual repeat in her head.
