Page 6 of Craving Demons

“Maybe you can teach me,” I suggested, though I heard the hesitation in my voice. I didn’t really want to learn, but we didn’t have any of the same interests, so perhaps this could be a way to bond.

“Maybe,” she conceded, then went back to the game. She moved a piece and said, “Check.”

“Oh… that is… something,” Don said, nodding.

As a dutiful parent, I should check— “Did you do your homework?”

Reia sighed. “Yes,Mother. I did most of it in class and the rest when I got home. I was done an hour ago.”

Don moved a piece and Reia quickly moved another. “Check mate!”

“Oh… yes, I see now… That is… something…” Don nodded sagely. “Another game?”

Reia nodded eagerly.

I left them and went to the kitchen, eyeing the box of donuts on the counter. I loved donuts. Donny loved donuts. Reia was vegan and didn’t eat any unnatural sugars. If I hadn’t spent several hours in labor with her, I’d wonder if she was really my daughter.

I skipped the donuts. If I was going to be fitting into any nice gowns for this new job, I probably shouldn’t indulge.

With a sigh, I grabbed a few of Reia’s baby carrots and went back out through the front room to climb the two flights of stairs up to my room. There were two cocktail dresses buried somewhere deep in my closet that I didn’t wear often since I wasn’t that fancy. But I guess they were about to see the light of day again

Digging them out, I hung one on a hook on the inside of the closet door and slipped into my favorite of the two. It was bright red and backless, with a halter top and a tight smooth skirt over my hips that fell to just below the knee. The neckline in front was a bit high and conservative, not showing any cleavage, but this dress was meant to get guys looking at the long stretch of naked back and the hint of side boob. Yeah, that would work well for this new job.

I slipped out of that and into the other. This one was dark purple, almost black, with an empire waist, spaghetti straps, and a V-neck to show off all my wonderful cleavage. Silken skirts fell to my ankles with a high slit up the left side.

Both of these would do, which meant I’d need at least five more, assuming I was working seven nights a week. But seven dresses would just be the bare minimum, ten would be better, twenty would give me lots of options. I smiled at the thought of a shopping spree.

Curious, I pulled out my phone and checked my banking app. Not quite two hundred dollars in my account. Fuck.

However, I was fairly certain I had enough on one of my credit cards to buy a new set of nice dresses for this job, and hopefully, I’d get paid before that payment came due. And God, did I need some retail therapy. It might not help me figure out who I was, but itwouldmake me feel better.

Maybe I’d see if Reia wanted to come. She’d yet to go to a single school dance, but she was in her junior year and prom was four or five months away and it was never too early to buy a prom dress. I doubted she’d want to go, but I could try. Why was parenting so hard?

I sighed and flopped down on my bed. I wished I still had my adoptive parents around to talk to. I’d not been kind to them. Not that I’d been purposefully hurtful or vicious, but they were plain folk, and I’d been a high-strung, bonfire of a girl. They’d loved me, I knew that, but they’d never understood me.

No one understood me.

Not even me.

I felt a tinge of sadness. I may have been with more men than I could count, but they’d never cared to get to know me. I was fairly certain none of them had truly loved me.

Oh, they’d wanted me, sure enough. But those relationships had all been skin deep, and love was a thing of the soul. I didn’t even know if I loved myself. How could I love myself if I didn’t even know myself?

Once again, as I often did, I let my mind drift off to fantasies of who my birth parents might have been. My favorite daydream was of a high-class heiress who’d fallen for a rough and ready biker bad boy. They’d had a torrid romance, all fiery young passion, and by the time her parents had discovered it, she’d been pregnant. Her parents had forbidden her from ever seeing the boy again and had given the baby up for adoption in shame.

Okay, the “shame” part wasn’t so great, but the rest would explain my rather tempestuous and visceral nature.

I imagined that after those cruel parents had stolen the child — me — away from the girl, she’d been furious and had run away from home to be with her lover and they’d lived happily ever after… but not known where to look for their long-lost child.

I’d tried to get my adoption records unsealed, but apparently my records — and only mine — had been lost. I’d found that quite strange but hadn’t pursued it since there wasn’t much to pursue.

Except I still felt that if I just knew who my birth parents had been, then I’d know myself. How could I know who I was if I didn’t know where I’d come from?

I was a spirited woman and that was pretty much all I could say for sure. Everything else about me — my looks, my loves, my life — felt skin-deep. I’d never been one for a lot of introspection, but perhaps I should start.

Maybe I’d take up yoga.

But — remembering back to my strange encounter with that hottie in the elevator — I knew one thing for sure.

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