Slaughter Daughter by Eve Langlais

10

The very ideaof being a we with anyone seemed strange. I also knew better than to let myself get swept along. “I’m fine staying here.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t be stubborn. Let’s go.” Kalinda exited.

I turtle-walked to the door, convinced that she’d disappeared in a whirlwind of determination. I bit my lip before I peeked out. My gaze widened as I saw her standing just outside, tapping her foot. “I don’t like waiting.”

“Sorry?” I ventured. “I told you I don’t need a new room.”

“Of course, we do. We can’t share that tiny space.”

There was that we again. We couldn’t be a we. Not with my past. The moment she found out I was the infamous Slaughter Daughter in all those memes, she’d ditch me quicker than a vape in the bathroom at school when a teacher walked in.

Personally, I didn’t see the allure in smoking nicotine in stupid flavors, but I did enjoy some CBD oil from time to time when I needed to sleep. I’d have to find myself a shop that sold it. Insomnia was a bitch.

“Are you a fourth year, too?” I asked because it was hard to peg her age.

“Nope. First year.” A reply that explained her shock at the room. She’d soon discover that dorms weren’t the nicest of places unless you attended an expensive, swanky school.

She tapped on her phone as we trotted down to the first floor, and she managed not to break her ankle, even in heeled boots. Despite my lack of wardrobe sense, I recognized someone dressed to the nines in tight jeans, strategically ripped—unlike mine, which involved hitting the pavement and tearing out a knee—and well-tooled, leather boots. She could have stepped off a magazine cover; she was picture-perfect—unlike my messy ass—and remained under the impression that we were moving out together.

Maybe she thought grunge was trending again.

I felt the need to argue. “I don’t think the college will have anything better. Which is fine. I’m okay. And it does seem quiet up there, which is a plus.” I made a face as we passed the zoo on the first floor.

“Quiet should be for study times only. Weekends should get noisy. It’s a known rule that you are required to have some fun while at college.”

“I’m more interested in graduating. I’m not a big partier.”

“Because you haven’t met the right people.” She cast me a quick glance and a smile.

I should put a stop to it. She wouldn’t even be contemplating helping me if she knew who I truly was. Yet at the same time, I was supposed to be about starting over. I wasn’t Abigail Smith, infamous Slaughter Daughter. I was Abby Baker, owner of a high school diploma, a small heiress with a trust fund in six figures—part of which I’d invested in guaranteed return stocks. I did wonder where the money came from. We’d not lived richly. On the contrary, my parents had boring office jobs, and we lived in a suburban house.

Was that part of their cover? Appear mundane and ordinary because they had a double life?

Hard to believe my dad, who kicked the lawnmower and claimed it hated him, might be a dangerous criminal. Or my mom, who kept wearing her winter boots with the hole because they were still good. Thinking of my parents reminded me that I should be honest now before this woman took things any further.

“Listen, you should know I’ve got a past. Hooking up with me isn’t the best idea.”

Kalinda’s dark-lashed gaze met mine as she snorted. “I shall choose who I spend time with. Do you believe in animal testing for makeup?”

“No.”

“Then there is nothing so awful I can’t handle it,” was her breezy reply. “I assume you’re okay with at least one set of stairs. What about closet space? I’m not sure they have any rooms with a walk-in.”

I didn’t have enough clothes for a walk-in. “You seriously want us to get a place? Together?”

“You’re interesting.” She tilted her head.

“You barely know me.” I felt a need to ruin my mystique.

“Which makes it even more fun.” Her phone pinged, and she bent to reply.

After three years of doing shit on my own, it was kind of fascinating to see someone who took charge and knew how to get things done. And, even better, was using it to help me out.

She tucked her phone away and said, “We’ll send someone for your luggage.”

I adjusted my knapsack. “This is all I have.”

She literally shuddered. “Oh no, you don’t. We will have to fix that.”

I almost laughed at her utter horror. “Listen, if you’re serious about getting a place off-campus, could it be within walking distance?” Which might not be cheap, but if we split the cost, then doable.

“Walking?” Her nose wrinkled. “I’ve got a car we can share. And I will insist on a maid. I do not scrub toilets.”

My lips twitched. “Don’t tell me we’ll need a chef, too.”

She glanced at me, cool and sophisticated, seeming decades older than me. “I’ll be doing most of the cooking. Can’t have anyone trying to poison us.”

“My dad used to say the same thing about packaged food,” I said without feeling the sharp pang I used to.

“Your dad is a wise man.”

I was proud of myself. I didn’t burst out laughing.

As we exited the dorm, I looked behind me at the clipboard person. “Shouldn’t we tell them we’re leaving so they can reassign the room?”

“No. We’re keeping it. We should have something on campus that we can use in case of emergency.”

“You mean like a mid-afternoon power nap between classes?”

“Naps. Rendezvouses. A stash for stuff.” She smiled. “You never know when you’ll need to hide and heal from the cruel world.” Not the kind of thing you’d expect to hear from someone gorgeous and confident.

She walked to the curb and the prettiest, shiniest Jeep I’d ever seen. It was teal with black trim. The top was down, and in the first five minutes after we took off, I fought to grab my hair and keep it from being whipped from my head. The woman drove fast enough to leave a smooth shave.

“Where are we going?” I yelled as she zoomed down a campus road at probably three times the speed limit.

“Taking us to our new place.”

“Already?” That was kind of quick.

“I contacted some friends in town, and it just so happens they have two open rooms we can have.”

“Who are these friends?” It occurred to me only now that I was a fucking moron getting into a car with a virtual stranger. What if I’d walked into a trap? It had happened before—invited by a girl in my class to study. Instead, I found myself surrounded by people who thought it funny to ring a bell in my face and scream, “Confess!” I’d watched that show and counted myself lucky that I’d walked out with all my clothes.

“Listen, I appreciate the trouble, but I don’t think—”

Kalinda slammed to a stop. “We’re here.”

I didn’t concuss myself, but I almost lost my tongue as I bit it. I gaped at the lovely, old two-story house she’d parked in front of. I wondered which level we’d be looking at. Emerging from the Jeep, she sauntered up the steps without hesitation.

“This is the place?” I looked around and noted the fine location. The college was maybe a twenty-minute walk, which was eminently doable. If it rained, I could overpay for an Uber or borrow the Jeep. I aimed it a loving, covetous look.

“Yes. I’ve been here before to visit my friends and can assure you it is much nicer than that cesspool they call a dorm.” She visibly shuddered.

“Are you sure they have room for both of us?”

“Oh, Abby, don’t be so silly. I wouldn’t have brought you here if they didn’t.”

It was only then that I realized she knew my name. Had I told her? I could have sworn I hadn’t. “How do you know my name?”

“They told me when I was getting checked in for that cell they call a room.”

That brought a frown. “Told you? That…” —Don’t say bitch, don’t say bitch — “bitch told me privacy rules meant she couldn’t divulge yours.”

A wide smile pulled at Kalinda’s full lips. “When I ask for something, I get it. Never take no for an answer.”

No kidding.

She sauntered through the front door without knocking.

As for me, I hesitated. Could it be a trap? It was certainly possible, at least according to fear, my constant companion. I glanced down the street. Only twenty minutes back to the dorm.

Kalinda stuck her head back out. “Are you coming or not?”

Curiosity moved my feet, even as my heart proved to be a leaden, heavy thing in my chest. Please, don’t let this be a trick. The relief almost sighed out of me when I walked in and noticed that just the pair of us stood in the large two-story hall.

The inside of the house, like the outside, exuded an old grandeur, the kind that involved waist-high wainscoting painted white and gleaming wood floors the same shade and shine as the trim, balustrade, and steps. The foyer was large enough to have a floating table in the center with a vase of flowers—real ones, not plastic. The space spanned two stories, and overhead, the staircase railing split and circled around.

Fancy.

“Is this a sorority?” I asked. I’d not seen a sign.

My determined friend sniffed. “No. The college banned those kinds of clubs. It’s just a house, rented to college students and staff.”

“Which means, you gotta share the space.” The deep voice had me turning to see a guy leaning against the jamb of a wide, arched doorway. He was tall and lanky with dark hair tumbling over his forehead. His jaw held a slight stubble. He wore a button-down shirt and khakis, yet still managed a somewhat rugged, disreputable appearance. It might have had something to do with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

My companion cast him a glance. “We both know you’re not the type to share.”

“Let’s be fair, neither are you.” He winked at her then eyed me. Thoroughly. The guy had sinfully thick and dark lashes. “Hey. Name’s Jag. Who are you?”

“Abby. Who else, you idiot? We were just texting about her.” My new friend rolled her eyes.

“Does Abby not speak for herself?”

Rather than reply, Kalinda asked, “Is her room ready?”

Jag’s jaw tensed. I almost laughed.

Especially since Kalinda added a snarky, “Well?”

“Both rooms have been checked for stains and possible leftover dirty rags from the previous occupants.” Jag offered an evil grin.

“Increased your pornographic collection?” Kalinda arched a brow.

“No need for pictures and videos when I can get the real thing anytime, anywhere.”

The conceit in this one was strong. I couldn’t help a snicker.

“And she almost deigns to speak.” He clapped.

“Why do you care if I talk or not?” The sass emerged unchecked.

“Always good to make sure language won’t be a barrier.”

“Don’t expect to hear me much.”

“Why ever not?”

I shrugged. “Not much to say.”

“Only because she thinks she’s shy,” Kalinda interjected. “I’m going to fix that.”

“I’m not broken,” I muttered, which wasn’t entirely true.

“Aren’t you lucky Kalinda has decided to make you her next project?” Jag drawled.

“You are so annoying,” Kalinda declared, moving to the steps. “And the reason I was avoiding living here.”

He snorted. “As if you could have lived in a dorm, princess.”

She cast him a glare hot enough to scorch. “Come, Abby. You can check out your room while Jag checks to see how far it is from the bridge to the water when he jumps.”

“Ouch. You wound me,” he said, clutching his chest.

He looked more amused than insulted as I followed Kalinda up the steps. The second floor was just as old-school lavish as the first. There were five doors and a circular set of stairs tucked into a narrow hall, going higher. Another attic room.

I started for the steps, only to have Kalinda say, “Where are you going? Your room is here.” She pointed to the door in the middle on our left. “That one is yours. I’ve got the one next to it.” She pointed past the one she’d indicated as mine.

“Are all the rooms occupied?”

She nodded. “You met Jag. He’s in the attic. Then we’ve got Mary, Peter, Cashien, and Jackson.”

A co-ed house, in other words. I was fine with that. Especially as the doors all bore keypads. “How do I get in?”

“Code 666. You can reset it to something else later.”

I bit my lip. An understandably high-school response to the number of the beast.

With a quick press of my finger, I set it to beep. Three times and…click, the door unlocked. I gaped as I walked into a room that boasted great space.

“It’s not a master suite, but I guess it will do.” I hadn’t realized Kalinda had come up beside me.

I finally had to admit the truth. “I might not be able to afford this.” The dorm was costing me six hundred a month plus food. This would be over a thousand, easy.

So, I understandably blinked when she said, “Seven fifty. Plus, there are groceries delivered every week. There is a house app to add items to the list.”

An app? Strangely efficient. I stepped into the palatial space. “I might never leave.”

“Don’t be silly. This is college. You’ll have to leave if you want to adventure.”

Adventure? Not me. I just wanted to finish college and have a nice, normal life.

It lasted a week.