Page 112 of The Toy Maker

He laughed, “I was trying to be festive.”

“Demon eyes is the way to do that?”

Cue demon eyeroll.

“Just stop twitching and get on stage,” Jason said with a slight accent, smiling at me as if nothing was wrong, as if Kitty hadn’t just screamed at him for using me.

I paused and stared at him. The southern twang in his voice came out of nowhere, so why did it sound familiar?

Before he could say anything else, I responded, “Actually, Kitty moved me off the stage. I’m on the table now.”

“She did what?” His face fell as I tried to explain what had happened. In the end, he shook his head. “I don’t want you up there.”

The party music blared into my ears, and the room swirled around me. Was Kitty right? Would he admit he didn’t want me being a main course for a fake-tan Fabio?

“Why not?” I challenged.

He turned, avoiding my eyes and pretending to look for someone else. “I need the best girls up there tonight. You’re still new.”

I scoffed, irritated by the shoddy avoidance maneuver. “I’ve been working here for months.”

Jason stared into the distance. “Doesn’t change the fact that your performance is average.”

I tried to extinguish the fire raging inside me and took a deep, shaky breath. Part of me, a strong part, wanted him to pull me off the table and banish me to the back room but he didn’t, and that was…

My anger overpowered the angel perched on my shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a show to do, and I’d hate to let you down.” I smirked at his concerned expression. “Sir.”

Before he could argue, I moved through the crowd and ducked underneath the stage curtain. After realizing he wasn’ton my heels, I sighed and took my place next to Sarah at the table. When I sat down, she was fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

“Are you alright?” I asked, barely able to comprehend my own problems but willing to listen to hers.

She turned her attention to me. “Lucas is here with Amy.”

“Oh, fuck.” I glanced around the room to locate the bitch, but Sarah stopped me.

“It’s fine. I have to let him go eventually,” she sighed.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, the lights went out.

“Showtime,” one Cherry whispered seconds before the spotlight flickered onto Jason.

He welcomed the guests with a fake grin, one I had become all too familiar with. A black priest robe cascaded over his body while he held a bible to his chest.

Weeks ago, Kitty confided in us about her teenage crush on the pastor’s son; especially how he got caught fucking in the church and how his father sent him off to a special reformatory school.

Suddenly, I understood the appeal.

“—so let us break bread on this day, together. Feast on what we have and celebrate the life that the Lord has given us.” His eyes found mine through the crack in the curtain. “Amen.”

He is so going to burn in hell.

“It’s time,” Sarah whispered before ushering me on top of the table. Of all the Cherries, Kitty selected only six to lie on silver platters, restrained with their legs spread for the audience.

Lucky me.

I climbed into position and fought the urge to swipe away the dozens of hands placing vegetables around me.

God, my mother would so disown me.