Vice, Virtue & Video, page 11
“Here are your choices, James,” she says flatly, “you can either fulfill your obligation to me and do what I require, or you can take her, your little friend. What was her name again? Oh, yes, Lola. That’s right,” she says, dragging out Lola’s name like it’s slipping off the forked tongue of a snake.
“I don’t want to hear her name coming out of your fuckin’ mouth again!” I say, unable to contain myself as I grab Eva’s shoulders and slam her against my car.
“So forceful,” she smiles, “I like that in a man.”
I let go of her and I can feel all my muscles tense with rage. “You’re a twisted bitch, you know that? You’re fucked up in the head.”
“Why thank you,” she smirks. “Let me ask you something, James,” she purrs, “do you love her? You get so upset whenever I mention her that I can only assume you do.”
I’m radiating anger right now and I can’t even answer her.
“You love her, so why not take her?” She clenches her fist like she’s snatching something out of the air. “Why not claim her as your own? Would you rather someone else did it? Someone who might defile her as you did Savannah?”
“You made me do that shit to Savannah!” I shout with outrage.
“But there are men who enjoy doing ‘that shit’ to women in the real world. Do you want your little Lola’s first time to be forceful? Traumatic? Wouldn’t it be better for her to give herself to someone who loves her, someone she trusts?”
This bitch might as well sprout horns and hoofed feet because I’m pretty sure she’s the fuckin’ devil! She’s using Lola to get me to do what she wants and I know that, but I’m so pissed off that I can’t process it.
“It doesn’t have to be rough, how about that concession?” she smirks, delighted that she’s wound me up so much that the vein is bulging in my forehead. “No ropes, no whips, just you taking her and the evidence to prove it. I want to see pain, I want to see blood and, if you deliver, I’ll release you from any and all further obligations to me and deliver you the full sum I offered to Rick.”
I have nothing to say to her. I just want to get away from this vile, nasty bitch. I get in my car and slam the door, patching out of the parking lot and speeding down the street. I feel a wave of nausea as I’m driving and I have to pull over to throw up outside the door.
When I get to the apartment complex, Lola still isn’t home. Frankly, I’m glad. I can’t face her today. I can’t look her in the eye after what I did to Savannah, can’t give her a smile like I’m not going through some serious shit because of Eva, can’t hug her or touch her after knowing how brutal I’ve been with another girl.
I throw the chain lock on my door so she can’t come in and I get into my bed. It’s not even dark outside, but I pull all my blinds and confine myself to my bedroom. I don’t sleep at all that night, I just shiver at the memories of what I’ve done and try my best to think about what I should do to get out of this.
Chapter 11 - Lola
James has been avoiding me and I’m really bummed out. Not 48 hours ago, we were sharing an intimate and loving moment, and now he won’t answer his door when I knock and he won’t return my texts. I’m worried that there’s something wrong with me, that he didn’t feel the same way as I did about our little experiment the other night. Maybe I was reading it incorrectly that night and I was just projecting the strong emotions I felt onto him in hopes that he felt them too. Maybe I was right and James can’t actually love anyone. Then again, maybe he’s just busy or tired or otherwise occupied. I’m attempting to convince myself that it’s one of those simple reasons, but I still don’t feel good about it.
I decide to get to the bottom of this. If he won’t talk to me at home, maybe I can track him down and confront him at Rick’s office. Last I heard, he’d been going down there a lot to talk about his new sex toy line. I don’t really care if he’s in the middle of an important meeting, I need to see him and clear all this up.
I walk in the front door of the Sin Cinema office and I’m greeted by Christie, Rick’s receptionist.
“Hey, Lola!” she smiles. “What brings you in today, sweetie?”
“Well, um, I haven’t been able to get a hold of James for a couple days and I wanted to see if he’s meeting with Rick or something,” I tentatively explain.
“Oh, well, unfortunately he isn’t here and I don’t know that he and Rick are on speaking terms right now,” she shyly admits.
“What? Really?” I’m surprised. James and Rick have been business buddies for years. I knew there was tension over the Eva thing, but now they’re not speaking to each other? What the hell is going on?
Christie is a sweet girl and she knows how close I am with James, so I know I can get her to give me the goods on what went down. She tells me that she overheard James and Rick arguing about a contract and that it had something to do with Eva Satana. She says she’s pretty sure Rick locked James into a deal and he didn’t want to do it, but it was a lot of money, so Rick basically made him agree to it.
Now I’m really freaked out. I know how much James has been stressing over Eva and her perverse bullshit and now he’s trapped in a weird contract with her? I have to find him. I have to talk to him about this. Eric said he would help, maybe if James can give me a copy of his contract, I can figure out a way to think him out of this problem. When we were younger, James was always a brawn and muscles kind of guy when it came to problem solving, but I was the strategic thinker, the one who brought down enemies with my mind. Maybe I can figure out a way to do that now.
As I’m leaving the office, I see a frail, pasty brunette walking out of a neighboring production office. She’s got on black jeans and a black hoodie with skulls on it zipped all the way up. It’s her. It’s Savannah Slade.
“Excuse me!” I call out, jogging towards her.
She looks skittish and nervous as she faces me.
“Savannah, right?” I ask as calmly as I can. This girl looks like she could crumble at any second, like she’s made out of ash.
“Yes,” she meekly responds, looking down at the ground.
“I’m Lola. I’m a friend of James Laird—er, James Langdon,” I say warmly wondering if she even knew James’ real last name.
“Oh, yes, he talks about you a lot. Pleased to meet you,” she says and I see her eyes dart around all over the place.
“Savannah, I need to talk to you about James,” I say.
“Um, I, I can’t,” she nervously replies.
“I just need to know what’s going on with him. He’s been going through some serious shit on the shoots and you’re the only person who can tell me what happened,” I say, my words rushed and rapid.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about that stuff,” she says.
“He’s my best friend and something is seriously wrong with him, and I know it has to do with the videos. Please, Savannah,” I desperately beg, “please just help me figure out what I can do to save him. I have to get him out of this. He doesn’t want to do it and it’s tearing him up inside.”
She sighs and I can see her trying to resist, but being unable to turn away someone so fraught with worry.
“Listen, can I buy you a cup of coffee?” I cordially ask, pulling my shit together for a brief moment.
“Alright,” she reluctantly replies.
I need to talk to this girl, need to find out what the fuck is going on and see if she knows anything about Eva and James and this contract bullshit. I’m delighted when she nods her head and follows me to the Starbucks across the street from the offices. She sits down at a table near the back and I get us two lattes. I watch her as I wait at the counter for them. She’s so jittery that I wonder if she’s on drugs or if she’s just living in constant fear of Eva's wrath. Neither would surprise me.
“Here you go,” I say, handing her the drink. Her eyes dart from the coffee to the window and back again. “Are you afraid of something?” I ask as sweetly as I can.
“No, ma’am,” she answers politely. “I just don’t want Mistress to see you.”
“Why’s that? And you don’t have to call me ma’am. You can just call me Lola, ok?”
“Alright … Lola,” she says as if she’s testing out the word. “If Mistress sees you, she’ll see how pretty you are, much prettier than your pictures even. She’ll be mad that you're prettier than her.”
Jesus! It’s like I’m talking to Gollum over here!
“Well, that’s nice of you to say,” I smile. “Eva’s seen my pictures?”
“Yes, ma’am—I mean, yes, Lola,” she nods. “She saw them on James’ Facebook.”
“Oh, I see.” Good, at least it wasn’t some psycho stalker thing.
I’m marveling at how broken this poor girl is. She’s practically shaking in her seat and she seems miserable and crippled by fear. Instinctively, I put my hand on hers and she quickly pulls it away. I’m guessing nobody’s ever touched her in a way that wasn’t despicably painful.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, feeling bad for invading her space “I’m not going to hurt you, but I understand if you don’t like to be touched.”
She looks down at the table like she’s ashamed.
“Did Eva tell you you’re not allowed to look people in the eye?” I’ve heard about this before, but I’ve never met anyone who actually has to do it. It’s one of those Dom/sub things.
She nods.
“Well, Eva’s not here right now and you’re welcome to look me in the eye if you want to,” I say warmly. “I won’t tell on you.”
Reluctantly, she raises her head up a little and looks at my face. I smile encouragingly at her. In return, the corners of her mouth curl up into a weak smile like she’s forgotten how to do it after all her years of suffering.
“See? Not so bad, right?” I chuckle.
“No, not so bad at all,” she says, her eyes looking a little brighter.
She puts her hand back on the table and inches it closer to mine like she’s trying to see how far she can go and how much kindness she can endure. Slowly, I rest my hand on hers again and look at her for approval. She manages a smile and extends her hand a little more.
I swallow hard when I see a big purple bruise on her wrist. There it is, evidence of the violence she’s been forced to submit to. As I look up at her face, I can see that her long hair is hiding another sizable bruise on her neck and that there’s a welt on her cheek, which she’s covered with some foundation. She looks like somebody beat the shit out of her, which is more than likely true.
My heart aches for this poor, damaged girl, but I don’t want to put her on the spot by jumping right to these horrific injuries.
“Do you like your latte?” I ask as cheerfully as I can manage.
She nods and smiles, but a real smile this time. In that moment, she looks youthful and carefree, like she hasn’t suffered unspeakable, deviant trauma at the hands of her "Mistress".
“What’s your real name, Savannah? I’d prefer to call you by that instead of your stage name, if that's ok with you.” Her stage name seems more like a slave name in this case, so I'm hoping to get her to open up a little more by reaching out to the woman behind "Savannah Slade".
“Stacey, ma’am—I mean, Lola. Stacey Harris.” She timidly replies.
“Would it be alright with you if I called you Stacey instead of Savannah?” I want her permission because I get the feeling she doesn’t get to make a lot of her own decisions.
“Yes, Lola,” she nods.
“Stacey, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but did Eva do this to you?” I ask, pulling up the sleeve of her jacket a little to reveal more of the bruise. Yikes! It’s worse than I thought.
“No, ma’am—I mean, Lola,” she shakes her head. “Mistress likes to make marks in areas that people can’t see because she says they’re to remind me not to disobey.”
I’m doing my best not to cringe. Why would anyone let themself get into this kind of situation?
“These are from a video Mistress made me do a few days ago,” she volunteers, her first unprovoked response in our conversation.
A few days ago? James did a video shoot with her a few days ago. These bruises couldn’t possibly be from him. He would never do this. Still, I have to ask.
“Stacey … did James do this to you?” I’m mentally crossing my fingers that the answer is no.
Stacey looks down at the table and nods once solemnly.
I feel sick. My head hurts and I feel nauseated. No! This can’t be. Not James! How could he do something like this to this poor, fragile girl—to anyone? What the hell is he turning into?
“Oh, don’t worry, Lola,” Stacey says, picking up on my appalled expression. “Mistress told him to. He doesn’t want to hurt me, but she said he has to.” She’s trying to lessen the blow, but it’s not like this makes it any better.
I’m reminded of the Milgram Experiment in which psychologist Stanley Milgram tested how far participants would go to obey an authority figure who was ordering them to administer electric shocks to another volunteer. I like to think James is a free thinker who would refuse to hurt someone just because some bitch producer told him to, but I’m starting to feel like that assumption is wrong. Oh, James! How could you?!
“It might be naive of me to ask, but why do you do what Eva says?” I inquire. Stacey has it even worse than James because Eva practically owns her. Maybe she can shed some light on it.
“Mistress takes care of me,” she murmurs like the mantra has been beaten into her. “She says that, if it weren’t for her, I’d be dead right now.”
The extent of her brainwashing is staggering.
“Stacey, do you mind if I ask how old you are?” Maybe that’s an explanation. She behaves like an adolescent, but she looks road-worn like an older woman.
“I’m 23,” she replies.
Only 23. Just like me. But not like me at all. She’s seen and done things that I’ve only heard about on the internet. She’s so battered and abused, so damaged and broken, and she’s only 23.
“I’m 23, too,” I do my best to smile. I don’t want her to think I’m judging her. I don’t want to make her feel bad. In fact, I have the overwhelming urge to save her. “Oh, Stacey,” I say sympathetically, “I’m so sorry that this happened to you! I’m so sorry that James hurt you and that Eva has you both doing these things.”
“James was right,” she smiles after a beat, “you are like an angel.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “James said I was like an angel?”
“Uh-huh,” she nods. “He told me one time that you’re the most beautiful girl he knows and you make people feel better like you’re his angel or something.”
I’m touched. I don’t know when James and Stacey sat down to have this conversation, but Stacey has no reason to lie to me, so I assume it’s legit.
“That was very nice of him,” I reply, my throat tightening as I try not to cry. James says I make him feel better. Maybe I could help him and this broken girl in front of me in one fell swoop.
“Mistress says James is in love with you,” she interjects. Her frozen exterior is melting away and she seems to be coming to life. “But Mistress doesn’t like that James loves you. She says love is for the weak. It makes her mad because it means that he holds you higher than her. She’s supposed to be the top, the most important one, but she can’t be more important than you with him and she hates it. She says he better shape up or else,” she whispers.
James loves me? James is in love with me? This might be an awful way of finding that out, but it does give my heart a joyful little surge.
“What do you mean by ‘or else’?” I ask, halting my amazement as this supernova revelation.
“Mistress can be cruel, Lola,” Stacey says in a hushed voice as she leans in towards me. “She knows people. She likes doing bad things to people who make her mad and she’s real mad that James won’t do what she says sometimes. She says she has to teach him and that she’s gonna train him to follow orders.”
There’s an undercurrent of fear running through her words. Now I’m starting to get scared. What exactly will Eva do if James crosses her? What is she capable of? What kind of people does she know that would make both Stacey and my strong, usually resilient friend shake in their boots?
Stacey eyes my oatmeal cookie and licks her lips subconsciously. She’s rail thin and I’m wondering if “Mistress” starves her in addition to beating the shit out of her and forcing her to have sex with people on film.
“Here, you want it?” I say, sliding the cookie over to her.
“Really?” she smiles like I’ve just given her a Christmas present.
“Yeah, sure. It’s all yours,” I nod warmly at her.
“Oh, thank you, Lola!” she sweetly replies. “Mistress doesn’t let me have sweets and I was bad, so I haven’t eaten since the day before yesterday.”
So Eva does starve her. Jesus! Is there no length this woman won’t go to?
As I sit here watching her savor the cookie like it’s filet mignon, I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her she’s nobody’s slave and that she has to run far away from Eva, but I’m worried that consequences would only be worse for her if Eva ever found her.
On top of the human wreckage munching a cookie right in front of me, I still have the problem of my best friend and his ties to that vile woman. From the looks of it, he could be in a lot more trouble than I’d initially thought. And now Stacey tells me that he’s in love with me, just to throw another wrench into things! The thought that James loves me makes me simultaneously elated and terrified. No matter how much I try to deny it, I know that I love him too, but I’m worried that he’s being pulled into the dark side and I’m not sure if I can pull him back out.
Chapter 12 - James
I’ve been wallowing in misery for three days now, just staying in bed and occasionally crying. I haven’t answered any of Lola’s calls or texts and the only communication I’ve had with her was a brief reply to a frantic Facebook message she sent me. “Are you still alive?” was what she asked. I just wrote back “yes.”
