The Girls Club Read online

  Rochelle smiled, she never failed to make her smile.

  Love your friends.

  “Its ok. You don’t have to come in today. She says she’ll talk to you Monday.”

  “Fine. Like I’m going to tell her owt. Sounded like some real shady business. Is Sarah there today?”

  “No. Just a message saying she’ll be back Monday.”

  It went quiet again. She could sense Karen wanting to make things better again but knowing she couldn’t give her the ten yard stare on the phone.

  “Heh”

  “What?”

  “Just thinking about the roast dinner you’re making me. And then the beer, and then you”

  “You know it’s the truth sugah” Karen said in her cheesiest Elvis accent.

  “I won’t be long now anyway. Sky missed you today, she’s mega hyped about her big weekend licking Miss Huntington-Wolfe’s minge”

  “Oh, Rosh, ewww. Fuck! I’ll text her and let her know I’ll be thinking of her. Star struck slut”

  They laughed together.

  “I’ve been thinking, about stuff.”

  Karen heard a long sigh from Rochelle.

  “What stuff?”

  Rochelle put her feet up on her desk. Her feet obscured her view of the telephone console, the speaker light was green.

  “About leaving LA. Starting fresh somewhere. With you”

  “You mean it? Because you know I would love nothing more. Except maybe for sorting out whoever carved their name into your legs”

  “But it wouldn’t matter any more would it? It would be in the past, we’d go somewhere new, you can get office dogsbody jobs anywhere”

  “I know, but still…”

  “But nothing. I thought that’s what you wanted”

  “Of course! What’s made you change your mind though?”

  “Everything. The Chain. You. Sarah ‘Goddamn’ Steiger. I want to be happy. Can you manage that?”

  “Bet yer arse I can” her voice was thick, like she was near tears.

  “I better make myself busy for another hour or so. That dinner better be on the table when I get there, and Karen”

  “Yes chief”

  “Your punishment will be to serve dinner in the nude”

  Karen laughed.

  “Yes sir!”

  The green light went off.

  Rochelle told Karen again she loved her and leaned forward to hang up the phone.

  Now that she was decided she really felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Sarah may have been her only physical family, but she’d just made herself a new family member. Sarah wouldn’t stop her this time. Karen would be taking her with her. Sarah was out of the frame. It was sad that things had ended up so bizarre and out of whack. Her days of mopping up after Sarah and being the scapegoat had come to an end.

  She couldn’t wait to get home. Dinner might end up being the second course by the time she’d finished punishing Karen. It was really nice knowing someone was there waiting for her. Was it her fault her homicidal half sister was very possessive of her and wasn’t prepared to let her go?

  No.

  As much as she loved Sarah she was glad in a small way she wasn’t here to fuck everything up this time.

  She remembered back to her first love. It had happened pretty damned fast. The third person she had met on the Chain on her way up. Denise. Denise Fontaine. Her name, like her personality, bubbly and full of spark. She had been open and honest. When Rochelle had told her that Sarah was going to be killed by Miss Smythe for fucking the number 2 on the Chain and breaking etiquette Denise had gone mad.

  “She might be your sister but what in God’s name do you think you’ll be able to do to help?”

  The agreement. The God damn agreement. The Chain elite agreed that Miss Steiger held considerable sway and the reprisals and recriminations that would arise from her slaying may reverberate until they had all been slaughtered. The Chain had demanded a sacrifice of her. She was to be marked. Then everyone on the Chain from that day forward would be aware of her trespass, others would see and learn. Follow the rules, or pay the price.

  Sarah had begged, crawled, emails and calls were made with frantic abandon. If she could get the Chain elite to agree that she could have someone take her place she’d be home free.

  “They can’t fuckin’ mark me, ME? Who do they think they’re fucking with?”

  Then Sarah had gone quiet for a few days Rochelle knew this meant she was cooking something up and kept her distance. She knew there was trouble but knew that she’d be kept out of it, until Sarah needed something. The corridors were war zones, Sarah’s office a ‘no go’ zone entirely. Her dark temper and furiously grey study kept all people away.

  Then she had buzzed Rochelle one afternoon. Told her that the Chain had made her a proposition. One that if she could get Rochelle to agree too, meant she would keep her life, which she was sure Rochelle would agree, was the only thing they should be focusing on. After all, she was the high power attorney with the gold plated crutch. And Rochelle’s only surviving relative.

  Reliable Rochelle. Sarah sold her a tar baby. With the best amount of sleaze she could muster she called tear eyed to her half sister and explained her dire need. If Sarah couldn’t find someone to wear the mark of her betrayal, to prove there was at least one person out there who thought she was worth saving, then she’d be gutted and dragged down to Venice Beach for the gulls to feed on.

  Rochelle agreed. Sarah was many things, but yes, she was still her sister and Rochelle would let the Chain use her to save Sarah’s life.

  Rochelle had never known the extent of Sarah’s lies to her. Her dealings with the Chain in general had ended very shortly after that.

  Her memory of that night never revisited while she was awake. Perhaps now would be a good time to remember. Remember and take heart that she was free to leave.

  They were in a warehouse. Battery powered halogen floods had been placed in each corner of the room. In the centre of the room was a metal table. The kind with a built in sluice tray underneath.

  Even now, by putting an arm across her eyes Rochelle could see the beige peeling walls. Could smell damp and salty air. Debris crumbled under their feet as they made their way to the room. Sarah had given her a line of coke at lunchtime, and again in the car as they pulled up. She also had a can of ice spray to numb the area to be marked before the cutting.

  Because none of the Chain elite were known to her she was lead into the room blindfolded. The coke in her brain and the ice spray on her legs making her feel hot and cold. There were voices, seemed like a lot of them. Sarah had her arm and was leading her out, the room felt large and under the bottom of the blindfold she could see powerful light, she wondered if that meant a guardian angel had been sent to look out for her.

  Sarah took both her arms and backed her onto the table.

  There had a semi-hysterical giggling, she remembered weeks later hearing Heidi laugh having drinks with Sarah and knowing instantly she had been there.

  “Hop up Rochelle. I’ll make it quick” she whispered into her ear, then kissed her cheek.

  Rochelle had been positioned on the cold metal table. A sexual murmur ran through those attending, they had been waiting all week for this. As revered as the female form was to them, the letting of blood touched some deep dark part of them, that they had this power made them sway with madness.

  Metal against metal. A snick sound. She had gasped as Sarah’s cold hands had reached under her skirt and pushed it up to her waist.

  A few wolf whistles were heard.

  Sick, fuckin’ sick, sick, fuckin’ sick cunts oh dear Jesus, fuck…

  On her left thigh she had felt something press down into her skin, there came pain. Pain in waves, down, gouge, along, gouge, along, gouge. Each stroke punctuated by a twisted of the blade. Her skin parted with sickening ease. Bile rose in her throat.

  “I love you Rosh” Sarah whispered, she heard her choke back a so
b.

  A shadow passed round the bottom of her vision. Passing out wasn’t an option, she feared they’d devour her, the coke made them sound like dogs. Coyotes. Wolves. Foxes. She could smell damp earth and bark. This was woods territory and to lose control here would mean the end.

  Gouge, along, gouge…

  Warm fluid ran down the inside of each thigh.

  Is it that time again? Comes round so fast it seems.

  Roars of approval from the crowd.

  “Fuckin ‘A’”

  “Cut that cunt”

  “FUCK YEAH!”

  And clapping. Applause for her half sister no doubt. There was blood touching her panty line now and she was beginning to panic in the dark behind the blindfold. A few flashes which she took to be photos being shot and the sound of retreating footsteps. The crowd had been sated. Now they left. Sarah had undone her first aid kit and was packing cotton wool furiously against the sides of Rochelle’s gashed thighs. Her gusto at getting the job done and the keenness of the blade had made the cuts wide and deep.

  “Oh Rosh, oh Rosh. Thank you, thank you, thank you” sobbing and muttering she had waited until the room had cleared before taking the blindfold from Rosh’s eyes. Rosh’s eyes appeared black, Sarah had forgotten the drugs she had given her and staggered back a step.

  “REALLY I AM!” she hurled blood soaked cotton wool down onto the dusty floor.

  “Listen, I think this needs stitches, oh, Lord. When they’re better we’ll look at getting you plastic surgery. It’ll be like they were never there.”

  She hadn’t looked down. Even in her high state she knew it felt as though her skin had been peeled back and salt rubbed in. Sarah bagged all the stuff she had taken in with them, including the knife.

  Then she had taken Rosh to a ‘friendly’ doctor to get her taken care of. The smallest of stitches possible. That’s what Sarah had asked for. Like it made a world of difference.

  Rochelle had been deposited back at the flat, Denise had been calling her cell and getting no answer all night, worried, it wasn’t like Rochelle. Not at all.

  She remembered Sarah leaving her at the entrance to apartment complex, “Take a few days off babe” Rochelle muttered to herself, still sat in her perfect reverie of that night. Rochelle hadn’t been in charge of her faculties, Sarah had known enough not to take her to her door as Denise would be there. She had gotten into the lift and her cell phone had cheeped at her, “Come get me, outside” she muttered again. The Rochelle in the lift swaying, the light so bright, searing into her scalp, making the ceiling loom like it was coming down. She had feinted, never heard the door boing as it slid open and Denise had been stood there. Waiting. Denise had picked her up and took her into the flat. There was blood on Rochelle’s skirt, Denise’s first nightmare thought had been that she had been raped. She got a cold wet flannel and patted Rochelle’s face with it, she had pushed up the skirt to see the damage. And was greeted by two neat rectangles of bandage, slightly spotted in places with blood. Whatever had happened to her partner had been done and dealt with. She had sat for what seemed like forever with Rochelle on the couch, Rochelle’s pallor grey, her breaths shallow but regular.

  A tear rolled down Rochelle’s face as the next moment came back to her.

  She had awoken in Denise’s arms, Denise’s eyes were wild. “Hey honey” she croaked, in time with her memory.

  “Hey honey” she whispered back down to her and kissed her forehead.

  “You want to tell me what happened?”

  The coke, the pain, the light anaesthetic she had been given, it had all conspired for her to tell to the truth to her partner.

  Denise had wanted to kill Sarah. Had leapt off the couch to grab her jacket. Her face, her face went brick red and she was crying freely. Tears of rage and anger.

  “You can’t. You mustn’t” she told the shadow in the crook of her arm as she saw herself sit up on the settee, straining to look alright, straining to make Denise see it wasn’t really that bad.

  She had elicited a promise from Denise that night. That it was over. Done and dusted. There’d be no more trouble and she promised never, ever, to let herself be put in that situation again.

  “Oh Denise” she sighed.

  She took her arm from over her eyes and black spots danced for a while in her line of vision. The promise had held for two weeks. Denise had been itching for a fight with Sarah about the marks. One night as she had been waiting outside Tarkingtons to run Rochelle home, her legs still hurt too much to drive, Sarah Steiger had been leaving the building. She wouldn’t make eye contact with Denise, just walked along the street to the end of the kerb to wait for whoever she was getting finger fucked with that night.

  “That’s right” Denise mumbled round her cigarette.

  “Sorry?” she turned then to look at Denise.

  “I said that’s right.” she had dumped her smoke and got up from the car she’d been leaning on.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t get you?”

  “I bet you don’t.” and she had gone strutting over to Sarah Steiger with every intention of giving her a kicking.

  “Ah. Listen, before you go playing the macho card with me I will tell you this just the once. I asked her, she did it. End of. Proceed to touch me and I’ll put you in a fucked up place she-man” Sarah had fumbled her cell out of her inside pocket, Denise smacked her bag to the ground and with her next lead through punched Sarah squarely on the jaw.

  Rochelle came out in time to see the second punch to the head Denise administered, she might have been small and wiry, her cropped hair and multiple piercing giving her a roguish look that screamed ‘lesbian’ but she was hitting Sarah with intent to kill worth twice her size.

  “Denise! NOOO!” she had hobbled over and grabbed Denise’s arm.

  “ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!HA!” she shouted and hooted.

  Sarah was on the pavement. Breath tearing in and out of winded lungs, blood at one temple and a respectable mouse rising under her right eye.

  If not for the last insult Denise might have been spared. She hawked and spat, right on Sarah’s face.

  “Fucking bitch!”

  Rochelle had put Denise in the car and demanded she leave while she tended to Sarah.

  “I won’t fucking come home if you don’t!”

  Having had her way in the end though Denise left. She knew it was what Rochelle had wanted, even if she hadn’t realised it. High tits bitch had it coming. Sick cow.

  Rochelle knew where to take Sarah. They took Sarah’s car. All the way there Sarah made scrubbing gestures at her face with a tissue. More than anything else it was the being spat at part that rankled her. Rankled her greatly.

  She had been treated for cuts and abrasions. Nothing major. No concussion. Later that night she made a call to the Chain guardians. There were ten in all. She had each in her pocket, either by virtue of her snatch or of her wallet. She emailed them all a picture of Denise.

  $50,000.00 to the first who gave proof she was dead, she texted each of them personally.

  Rochelle was oblivious to this. She’d known Sarah was mad. Maybe even slightly madder than she’d been about the ‘marking’ incident and the fact that the Chain elite had wanted her dead.

  Rochelle had gone to work the next day with plans in her head about the two of them leaving LA together. Not forever. Just long enough for the bad blood to die down. She had after all let herself be used so badly by Sarah, if Sarah had taken a few lumps and was still upright and breathing how could she really blame Denise for being protective of her? They had talked most of the night. Denise with her gruff demeanour finally wavering, the thrill of the fight gone from her. Rochelle trying to explain that Sarah wasn’t someone you messed with, and that as much as she loved the fact that Denise wanted to defend her honour, she had done what she’d done to save Sarah’s life.

  Denise had never been an office type. She worked at a surf shack on the beach. Taught people to surf, rented boards, peeled jellyf
ish off people. They had met on the Chain. In the right context the Chain was indeed a beautiful thing.

  One of the Chain meat heads spotted her running down to the surf with about half a dozen people two days later. She called her favourite sparring partner, and waited. She was watching the people surf, watching the target. Damn good surfer. Pretty fucking hot in a wetsuit too. Shame she came with a price.

  The two meat heads. One blonde and one brunette, stood at the rail and watched the surfers until the sun went down. The blonde smoked cigarette after cigarette. The brunette, stocky and short in stature drank copious amounts of coffee.

  The surfers departed. They watched her pack up the stands outside the hut. Patient. Observant.

  As the sun went down on the last day of Denise’s life the two meat heads followed her into the surf shack quietly. The brunette stood in front of the doorway and the blonde who was relatively small in size for a Chain guardian took a body board off the rack and belted her in the back of the head with it. Denise had not seen it coming. They picked her up and carried her out to the blondes car. A passer-by asked if she was ok, “Fell off her board” the brunette said gruffly.

  On the outskirts of LA a new condo was being built, they would be undisturbed there.

  The blonde sat in the back next to the unconscious Denise, blood running quite freely down the back of her head and over the knob of her spine.

  The brunette adjusted the rear-view, “Keep that shit off my seats bitch”

  The blonde sat Denise forward.

  They pulled into the empty building site and took her between them down into the lowest level of the condo. Blondie produced a plastic tie grip. Blondie passed it to the gruff brunette and pushed Denise up against one of the support struts of the building, pushing her arms behind her they found her arms wouldn’t come together close enough for the grip to go round her wrists. Blondie fixed that by pulling both arms up quickly, the popping of her shoulders from their sockets shocked Denise awake. There was nothing to do but scream, her arms felt like they’d been detached and she could feel fire running the course of her tendons and overtaxed muscles.

  They took turns body beating her. No real reason for this aside from the fact that Sarah had always rewarded viciousness. They each posed for digital camera shots. They took photos of each of her shoulders, they had both gone an alarming shade of purple, the left one looked very much like the skin had tautened to a degree that would mean its split was imminent.