Page 21 of Piggy

Charlotte

It turns out, I’m a club girl.

I love it.

First of all, men look at me with lust in their eyes!

No one calls me Piggy, either. Just cutie . Gorgeous . Sexy .

I’m so happy.

Oops. I just stumbled.

Oh! And there’s alcohol! So, so much alcohol.

Best part? I don’t pay for any of it. Guys hand me drinks like I asked for them when I didn’t.

I talk to each one for a minute or two, giggle, then squeal and run back to the dance floor whenever a new song drops. These men really can’t keep up with me.

By two in the morning, I guess I’m sloppy drunk. My feet are covered in blisters. I’m starving for salt. And I’m so dang sweaty.

“Can we go?” I slur to Keysha.

She grins, still glued to the guy she’s talking to. “This is Diego. He’s Puerto Rican,” she purrs, adding a sexy roll to the word Rican . She sips her drink, lips wrapped around the straw, eyes never leaving him.

Diego, a much older but sexy man, smirks. His friend, tall, pale, buzzed hair, thick silver chains around his neck, steps up beside him.

“I’m Jace,” he says, offering me his hand. His eyes flick down my dress. “And you are?”

“Charlotte,” I grin, all dumb and tipsy. He’s cute. But honestly? Everyone’s cute right now. It’s all kind of blurry in here. “I’m sweating between my boobs. Like, bad,” I blurt.

They laugh like I’m charming instead of pathetic.

“So uh... can we go, Keysha?” I ask again, trying to sound more coherent, but I swallow a burp.

“Sure,” Diego answers for her. “We’ll take you both back to my penthouse. Crash there for the night.”

Keysha lights up. “That sounds amazing.”

Then, quieter, leaning toward me, “We have nowhere else to stay anyway. It’s a two-hour drive and I’m drunk. You okay with that? They’ve got a pool, too!”

I nod. “I guess that sounds a lot safer than driving home drunk.”

Diego lifts both palms like he’s proving he’s harmless. “There’s plenty of space. You can have your own room.”

That settles it. I tip back my drink and down the rest.

“Alrighty. Lead the way! ”

Jace takes my hand and I follow him like we’re good friends.

A half hour later, we step through the towering front doors of a sleek penthouse. Music pulses low and bassy. A dozen people chatter in small groups, laughing too loud, sipping their drinks like this is all normal.

It’s kind of a small party. But to me? It feels huge compared to Brax’s house parties. And everything is white. Blindingly white. The marble floors. The glossy counters. Even the furniture.

Why do rich people love white so much? It makes me feel... dirty.

I gawk at the floor-to-ceiling windows that stretch across the back wall, showing off the ocean. There’s a infinity pool outside on the gigantic balcony, glowing blue under the night sky.

Keysha bolts for it like it’s calling her name. She pulls off her dress mid-stride, revealing a black bra and thong underneath, and steps into the pool without hesitation. Not a drop touches her hair.

I blink. Once. Twice.

What is happening !

Diego strips down to his boxers and dives in. He swims to her, and within seconds, they’re making out!

My chest tightens.

Keysha always knows how to have fun, though.

I shift on my feet. Do... do I get in, too? I hope that isn’t the expectation.

Before I can think too hard, Jace slides an arm around my waist. “Want another drink?” he asks, voice smooth, like this is a date and not a make out session.

I nod eagerly, needing liquid courage.

He mixes me something pink-red. Vodka cranberry. Strong. It hits hard but I take another sip anyway.

He leads me to the balcony where a propane firepit flickers in the middle of a plush seating area. The cushions swallow me as I sink down beside him. Strangers are around us, laughing, vaping, tossing out jokes that I’m too drunk to catch.

I ramble something about music, or dancing, or how weird this all is — and they laugh. So I keep talking.

Then... His mouth is on mine.

Wet, sudden. His tongue is big and aggressive. My eyes widen in surprise, but I close them quickly and kiss him back. Because so what. Who cares.

I don’t feel butterflies, but maybe I’m not supposed to. That’s just in movies. That’s for immature girls who don’t know anything.

Not me .

Besides, the vodka numbs my nerves. His hands feel nice. The night air is cool. I’m buzzed and light. Like I’m not really here at all.

His lips trail to my neck.

“Bet a girl like you is fun in bed, huh?” he teases, breath hot against my skin.

“Pretty girl,” interrupts Diego.

I glance over, my lips still tangled with Jace’s. Diego and Keysha are now out of the pool, sitting close on the opposite couch. She’s grinning. That soft, smitten kind of grin. It’s all kinds of adorable.

I break away from Jace’s mouth, and he exhales, frustrated. He leans in again, but I dodge gently.

“You and Keysha,” Diego says, “are both very, very beautiful.”

“Uh... thanks?” I mutter, confused. He’s clearly with Keysha. Why say that?

“You two ever kissed before?”

Keysha immediately stiffens. Her posture goes cold. “Excuse you?”

Diego laughs. “Relax, relax. Just saying… It’d be sexy. You both look familiar. Have you ever gone live before?”

“What?” I laugh, genuinely confused. “Gone live?”

“You know. Streamed content?” Jace adds casually.

“Hell no!” Keysha snaps. She’s on her feet, glaring like she just got slapped. “Come on, Charlotte. These fools want us to do porn. ”

Diego jumps up too. “No, no. That’s not what this is—”

“Where’s those bedrooms you promised?” Keysha demands, snatching my wrist. “For just me and her?”

Diego points toward a hallway inside.

She drags me toward it, hand clamped on mine like a vice.

But then—

“It pays five grand,” Jace calls out.

I stop.

My breath catches in my throat. Slowly, I turn to face him. “What did you say?”

He steps toward me, voice low, syrup-smooth. “Five thousand dollars. For a half hour.”

A half hour.

My ears ring. My heart pounds. I feel... blank.

“A half hour?” I whisper, just to be sure.

He nods, brown eyes glowing like he knows exactly what kind of door he just cracked open.

Keysha yanks on my arm, urgent. “No, Charlotte. Don’t even think about it.”

“Hey!” Jace glances beyond my head, but points at me. “This cutie wants to cam tonight. What do you think?”

“I didn’t say that,” I blurt, but the words feel hollow even to me.

Because all I can think is: five times four is twenty thousand.

Four streams. That’s it. Then I could save the house. Get Atticus back .

“Depends,” a man says behind me. “How much is she willing to do?”

My heart stops.

No. No.

That voice—

It’s him .