Daughter of Darkness (10 page)

So when I began again in a new school, I knew I would hate the strangeness of it. I would hate having to get familiar again with all the small but necessary things every new student has to learn. But most of all, I knew what would soon happen. I knew how the other students would treat and see me, and that filled me with dread. I hated that feeling. I often wanted to cry when I was alone at home, thinking about the world I was missing, but nothing was more frightening to me than Daddy believing even for an instant that I was unhappy having him as my father and living in his home with my sisters, that I was in the smallest way unhappy about our lives. If I cried or in any way showed my disappointment and dissatisfaction, he would see it and be terribly hurt, I thought.

Besides, and this was most important, I could see that my older sisters were not upset about the way we lived, so I thought that would soon be true for me as well. I would get over these feelings. I must be patient. Brianna, before she left home, had seemed very happy to me. Ava never complained and really seemed to enjoy being who she was and what she was. How could it be any different for me? The ecstasy that came with being a daughter of darkness was just ahead, waiting for me to claim it.

Obedience.

Loyalty.

And sacrifice.

Worship the three, and, as Daddy promised, all would be well.

Ava turned sharply onto a city street. Just ahead of us on the right was a neon marquee that read “Dante’s Inferno.” There was a small crowd of young men trying to get in and obviously failing. We could hear their protests and pleadings.

“This is it?” I asked. “Dante’s Inferno?”

She laughed. “Yes. They toy with the idea of being in hell. Little do they know how easily we can take them to it.”

Her comment made me wince, but I guessed that was what we did.

“Now, listen to me, Lorelei. When we get inside and the men start to approach us, let me do all the talking first. In fact, you want to get used to letting them do most of the talking. Volunteer no information. Act as if you’re a secret agent, undercover or something. Wrap your mystery around you like armor. Most men will be nervous, too, no matter how they act or try to impress you with
their savoir faire. You’ll learn quickly that it’s the quieter ones, the confident ones, who are more impressive and in some ways more dangerous for us.”

“Dangerous? Why?”

“It’s like any competition. They’ll be more qualified to play the game. The danger for us is they might sense danger and pull back. You can spend just about all evening with such a man and come home empty-handed, and you don’t ever want to come home empty-handed. That’s a disappointment Daddy can’t tolerate. I have never returned empty-handed, and neither did Brianna, but both of us wondered, and you will wonder, what would happen if we did.”

“What would happen?”

She just looked at me, and in that look, every possible nightmare seemed to show its ugly head. What if Ava’s subtle accusations about me were right? What if I was too different? What if I couldn’t do what she and Brianna could do? What if I failed the first time I was on my own? Would Daddy send me away? Should I fear something even worse?

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, as if she could read my thoughts. “You’ll be a success. Daddy and Mrs. Fennel don’t choose girls who won’t be.”

“How do you know that?”

“Mrs. Fennel told me, and you know Mrs. Fennel. She doesn’t make excuses for us or for herself. There’s no ‘Oh, you’ll do better next time,’ or ‘Don’t worry, you’ll understand next time.’ None of us is ever coddled, Lorelei, and we’re stronger for it. You’re stronger than you realize you are right now.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, remember, let them talk more. Use your eyes, your shoulders, and your whole body to speak to them. It’s enough.”

“What do we tell them about ourselves?”

“Nothing, Lorelei. We’re not looking for a relationship. There’s no reason for us to tell them anything.”

“Not even our names?”

“Oh, you can tell them your name.”

“I can?”

“Let’s see. Tonight your name is Diane. No last name.”

“Diane?”

“Right. And I’m Elsa. I haven’t used that one recently. Elsa. Okay, Diane, here we go,” she said, pulling up to the entrance.

The valet stepped forward eagerly to take our car. Ava seized my left arm when I opened the door before the valet had a chance to get to it.

“You’re being too anxious. Don’t step out awkwardly like some high school teenager, Lorelei. Slowly, slowly, always move as if there are a hundred pairs of eyes on you. Sex and grace go together well. The men will see immediately that you have some class, experience. Think about your posture. Concentrate on your figure. Always be aware of yourself. Do nothing by accident, no matter how small and insignificant you might think it is.”

“Okay,” I said, but let her get out first so I could mimic how she moved, turned, paused, and started toward the entrance to the club.

She smiled at me to indicate I was doing it right, and
I felt confidence transfusing from her body into mine. Maybe the men in here wouldn’t think of us as sisters, but they would surely think there was no innocence poured into our clothes and shoes. The two men at the door practically leaped out of their own clothes to get the rejected young men to make a path for us, and they opened the doors quickly for us to a few choruses of catcalls and whistles. Ava ran her hand over the cheek of the door guard on our left and then down under his chin, holding her hand up as if she had an invisible wire tied to him and she were inviting him in with us. I thought I could hear his quickened breath and small moan of pleasure. His companion on the right smiled hopefully at me, but as Ava instructed, I touched him only with my eyes. It looked as if it had the same effect.

“Very good,” Ava said. “Feel the power? You’re the puppet master, and they are the puppets.”

We stepped in and then paused like two divers on a cliff about to dive into the sea.

Now, anyone judging my reaction to Dante’s Inferno would have to take into consideration the fact that I had never even been to a house party or a school party. I had never gone on a date or been alone with a boy. The only dancing I had ever done was in our house with one of my sisters and my daddy. I was up on the music and the dancing, and I had seen movie scenes shot in such places, but until that very moment, I never fully appreciated the effect such a sight would have on me.

My heart began to race as it never had, and I felt the blood rising through my neck and into my face. For a moment, I thought I might simply explode. My eyes
couldn’t swallow what they drank in fast enough. And my ears felt as if they were opening wider and wider to take in all the music, laughter, giggles, and screams of joy and excitement before us. I felt Ava’s hand on my arm.

“Easy,” she said. “Remember. Slowly, slowly. Let it all come to you.”

We walked toward the bar. Wouldn’t they check to see my age? A small panic started at the base of my stomach. I could be terribly embarrassed. Why wouldn’t Ava think of this? I turned to signal my concern, but she didn’t move her gaze from the men who were standing between us and the bar. Instead, she just squeezed my hand hard, which I knew meant
relax.
I tried. The men separated, none of them taking their eyes off us.

“Ladies,” one tall, dark-haired boy wearing a pair of wire-frame glasses said. He bowed and gestured at the seats that had been quickly vacated for us. I thought he had a gentle, sweet face and warm hazel-brown eyes.

“Thank you,” Ava said, and took one seat, nodding at the other for me.

“What would you Miss Americas like to drink?” a shorter, blond-haired boy on my right asked us. He looked much younger, too. Maybe he was someone’s younger brother visiting.

“We’re just having Shirley Temples tonight,” Ava said.

One of the bartenders, a good-looking brown-haired man with the sort of sculptured male-model look Ava called face candy, stepped up quickly.

“Shirley Temples?” another young man asked, pushing his way between the other two. He was stouter and the least good-looking, with large lips and a nose that
looked as if it had been broken a few times. His dull brown hair was uneven and stringy. He was very muscular, with thick forearms and shoulders, and looked as if he might bust out of his tight red shirt. “What the hell’s a Shirley Temple?”

Ava looked at the bartender for the explanation.

“It’s a nonalcoholic drink,” he said. “Lemonade, Seven-Up, or something like that with a touch of grenadine and a cherry on top.”

“Huh? Nonalcoholic? That’s no fun,” the bigger young man said, grimacing. “I’ll buy you a real drink.”

“Look at it this way,” Ava told him. “I can keep my wits about me in this den of sin and still keep my cherry, too.”

All the men laughed, especially the bartender, who set out to make our drinks.

“I’m Buddy Gilroy,” the boy with the glasses said. “You guys go to a college here or something?”

“Something,” Ava said.

“Maybe this is their college,” the bigger man said. “You can learn a lot here.” He laughed at his own joke.

“Why, are you teaching?” I asked. It just came out before I could think if I should say it. Ava had said she wanted to do all the talking first, but I didn’t like the way he was elbowing the others out of his way, especially Buddy.

All the men cheered and teased their big friend. Ava raised her eyebrows. I held my breath, but she smiled at me.
Don’t get overconfident
, I told myself.

“Yes, Professor,” Ava followed up. “What is your subject? And don’t tell me sex education.”

“He needs to go to that class himself,” someone behind him said. There was more laughter.

“Oh, yeah. Listen, if either of you needs lessons,” the now red-faced big man said, “I’d be happy to volunteer.”

“What if it turns out your friends are right and we know more than you do?” Ava asked him as the bartender brought our drinks. “You might have to go to the back of the line.”

All of them laughed again. His face reddened even a darker crimson. He struggled to think of an appropriate comeback.

“In this case, I’d be happy to learn more, and if you’re the teacher, I’d gladly stand there and wait my turn,” he said, and his friends cheered.

Ava smiled. “That’s fine,” she said. “As long as you know your place.”

They all roared again. More young men broke off their conversations nearby and hovered behind the small group that had greeted us. I could see the envious, even angry faces of the girls to whom they had been speaking.

“So, really, where are you guys from? I haven’t seen you before. Anybody see them before?” another boy asked.

“I have,” Buddy said, looking directly at me. “Every night in my dreams.”

They all laughed.

“That’s all he ever does is dream,” the bigger young man said. “So, where are you from?”

I looked to Ava.

“Well,” she said, “we kiss, but we don’t tell.”

There were more roars. I sipped my drink. Buddy smiled at me and then asked if I wanted to dance. I looked at Ava. She gave me a short
yes
smile, and I
nodded. When we got onto the dance floor, the music was so much louder it was nearly impossible to talk. I looked back and saw how Ava was holding court, none of the boys who had been around us leaving. I was torn between being there to hear her banter and learn and remaining here on the dance floor with Buddy, who seemed unable to take his eyes off me. Actually, I was having trouble taking my eyes off him as well. It also felt good to be out there, to dance in a crowd with other girls and young men who at times seemed to be in a frenzy.

What was it they were all celebrating with the same energy and abandon they would have on New Year’s Eve? Was it just the weekend, their freedom, or their youth? Were they celebrating or fleeing from sanity, from rules and supervision? What was it exactly that everyone was trying to prove to everyone else about himself or herself?

As I looked around, I thought many were saying,
Look at me. Don’t you want to be with me more than anyone else?
Here and there, I saw some shyer girls and even some shyer boys, but on the whole, everyone looked ready to cast off every restriction, every warning, every bit of advice on how to live moderately, sensibly. The room reeked of sex, bodies rubbing against bodies, lips close to lips, and hands sliding over rears and thighs. Every gyration, turn, and twist looked like a move in some mating dance.

“You’re a great dancer!” Buddy shouted. He drew closer. “You make me look good.”

“Thank you.”

“Where are you two from, really?”

“Around,” I said, and he laughed.

“What’s your name? Will you at least tell me that?”

“Diane.”

I saw Ava break away from the crowd with the young man on her right. The others watched them head to the dance floor, each one regretting he hadn’t asked first, I imagine. She threw me a smile and went at it. The young man she was with seemed immediately overwhelmed. He waved back at his friends lingering at the bar to indicate that he was drowning. There was more laughter, and the night began.

We danced most of the time. Other boys asked us both, but I favored Buddy and was able to dance with him more than with anyone else. He never stopped asking me questions about myself. I hated not being truthful with him. Was it simply my inexperience, or was he really as honest and sweet as he appeared? My instincts told me yes, but I was afraid they made me too vulnerable. I had to keep my wits about me and not make a mistake and tell him more than Ava would want me to tell him.

She and I were constantly offered something stronger to drink and even something to take or smoke, but Ava refused.

“We don’t need anything to get high,” she told them. “We’re high on life.”

No matter how hard any of them tried to learn more about us, we avoided having to answer any questions. In between dances, Buddy asked me to step out with him on a small patio. I saw that he wasn’t drinking as much as his friends and asked him about it.

“I hate having hangovers, and most of those guys
need to drink before they have any courage when it comes to women.”