Mr. Darkness

  Mr. Darkness

  Copyright © 2017 Hilary Storm

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under U.S Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Models: Jonny James & Christianna K

  Cover Photography: Wander Aguiar

  Paperback Cover: Designs by Dana

  Printed in the United States of America

  Mr. Darkness

  Chapter One

  Cami

  It's strange to express your emotions best in words. In some ways, it's easier to deal with life when you don't have to come in personal contact with others. For example, when you need to end a relationship or have something difficult to express. I prefer to write down my feelings, then I can choose how it's delivered. No interruptions, just truth and honesty as it pours from my fingertips. It’s entirely different from being interrupted or misunderstood as I stutter through a conversation where the majority is left unsaid in order to save face and possibly preserve what little respect I have remaining for myself.

  My name is Camille Richards and I'm a writer. I have been my entire life. Just recently I've swallowed my nerves and published a series of books that I wrote years ago, so I guess I can finally say I'm an author. But in truth, I write because I need it to breathe. It's my escape from reality. I think I'd go insane if I lost my ability to carry out my passion.

  It's my way of creating a world where the woman gets the man of her dreams. Where he isn't out to take away her hopes of love and trust, only to get his thrills with a random whore on the side. Yes, my history with men is the reason for my self-imposed sheltered life. Who could blame me with my track record.

  I roll over in bed and face the laptop that never leaves my side. Lifting the lid lights up the room instantly, just like it does every morning at four. My internal alarm clock won't let me sleep past that, I have my father to thank for that.

  My childhood was less than stellar, but isn't that the usual story told? Father was abusive and demanding while the mother stands by and allows it out of fear for her own life. Maybe that's why I'm not the slightest concerned that I'm single.

  “Cami. I know you're in there.” My sister on the other hand is determined to save me from myself. She's bringing me breakfast on her way to work. It's something she does three days a week. She says it's because she wants to see me, but I know she's just trying to make sure I at least get out of bed on those days.

  “Coming.” I pry myself from the mattress and stumble to the door. “You have a key, why don't you use it?”

  “My hands are full, you ass.” She walks into my small kitchen and places everything in its usual spot on the bar. “Besides, I like to see your welcoming face.” Her snide snicker is her way of teasing me, but I can see behind her sarcasm.

  “Let’s sit at the table this time.”

  “Nope. I'm going back to bed. You know the drill.” I grab my biscuit and coffee before I turn to retreat to my office. My bed.

  “I'm going to kill that asshole for setting you back like this.” Brock McGregor. The most recent love of my life who seems hell bent on ruining me. “Promise me you’ll never let him back in.”

  “I promise.” I sip the hot coffee and close my eyes to savor the divine peace that flows through my veins.

  “I'm holding you to it this time. This is ridiculous.” I begin to ignore her usual attempt to make me see the error of my ways. Yes, I know I make bad decisions when it comes to men. Blah blah blah. I heard her years ago and still hear what she's saying today. I'm just not listening. I guess that's my problem. Maybe if I picked the preacher-to-be as my boyfriend in high school, things would be different.

  “Tell me about the wedding.” Distraction... my go to with her.

  “One month. You do realize you'll have to shower and look alive that day.”

  “Only for you.” I won't love it, or even feel like doing it, but I won't miss her big day. However, I’m not thrilled about being front and center in a bright pink dress.

  “And the bachelorette party is tonight.” I swallow hard as she drops the bomb on me. “So be ready at seven. We’ll be by in the limo to get you.” Her fiancé is loaded. I'm sure he’ll send one of his family drivers to take care of us for the night.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Yes. You can choose what dress you'll wear.” She raises her brows as she stands to leave me.

  “Well at least you're allowing me to dress myself.”

  “Seven, Cami. I’ll see you then.” She yells to me from outside my bedroom door. Before I can take another sip of coffee, she's out of my apartment.

  I sit up in my bed and begin my morning, checking emails and working on my calendar.

  It's not unusual for me to have a few hundred emails, especially when I only check them once a day. The books I published have brought me more attention than I imagined possible, so most of them are relative to that. Readers wanting more from me even though I'm not sure I have it in me to publish again. Truth of it is, I have countless stories already written if I ever decide I want to publish any.

  I open my emails and quickly see one with the subject line that says ‘Potential Job’ from someone who visited my website. I open it as I sip my coffee.

  Ms. Richards,

  It's with my sincere admiration that I come to you. I'm looking for someone to help write a few scenes that will be played out in a future movie. These scenes are sexual in nature and require originality. I'm looking for someone to aid in the creative side of this film. Your work was brought to my attention and I'd love to talk more if you're interested. The compensation will be ample as the work done will be key to the success of the film. Please consider this an offer, but I'll require an application if you'd like to make this official.

  Sincerely,

  D~

  I sit my coffee down and read the email a few times again. The address isn't helpful in identifying who sent it and he left no contact information for me to do any research. I search the email address online and nothing comes up. It must be a brand new one. Without more information, I can't even consider something like this. And honestly sexual scenes for a movie wouldn’t be my forte. My books have sex, but it's not anything truly epic.

  I close the email and choose to ignore it. It's not unusual that I get strange requests, although this one had me curious for a few minutes. Working through a few more messages, I get irritated at the same questions seemingly on replay lately. “I’d love to meet you and get my books signed. Will you be signing anytime soon?”

  Do they not understand I’m purposely in hiding and want nothing to do with the public factor of being an author? I regret the day I ever let my face be seen. It’s the very day my life changed too fast for me to comprehend. It was then that I received the PM’s about Brock and his other woman. I guess it only took one picture of us together and his fling wanted to ruin my life. I guess I should send her thank you flowers.

  It wasn’t until later that I realized how long it had been going on and how horrible he was being. He honestly disgusts me and has made me lose any hope of writing romance at all for now. Maybe I could write about a woman cutting her cheating asshole’s dick off, but romance… that’s not happening.

  I open my latest work in progress and try to get in a few words before I allow myself to fall into the Netflix
binge I feel coming. Hell, it’s my normal routine lately, so it’s no surprise that I find myself simply staring at my computer while the words escape me.

  Before I have the chance to get situated against my pillows, my email dings again.

  Ms. Richards,

  I truly hope you’ll consider my offer. Maybe we should chat about the details over the phone. It’s too much to disclose formally. I’ll be expecting your call.

  Sincerely,

  D~

  He leaves his phone number this time, only to leave me disappointed and just as lost when I search for it online. Nothing shows up. Nothing.

  He signs with a simple D~. Who does that? Is he too good to leave me his full name? And I’ll be expecting your call… a bit presumptuous of him and doing nothing but sending me huge red flags to avoid him.

  “Yeah… that does it.” I adjust my pillows and lay back to fall into my vegetative state of watching movies. I can’t people today and it’s obvious before I’m even finished with my single cup of coffee.

  My phone vibrates the bed next to me and even though I already know it’s my sister, I check the message.

  Carli: Seven Cami. I made an appointment for you to get your hair done this morning at ten.

  Me: Cancel it.

  Carli: No. It’s my treat for you. It’ll help you feel better.

  Me: I’m good. I’ll fix my own hair for your fucking party. Don’t worry… I won’t embarrass you. I type it all, but don’t send it. She’s the only person I have left in my life that I haven’t pushed away, not from lack of trying. If I send that message, she’ll be over here in twenty minutes to make a point. She’s as determined as I am about things, even though we have different focuses.

  Me: Send me the address.

  And with that, I shut down all technology, with the exception of the T.V. and let the next few hours go by without any distractions. The quiet in the room matches the numbness in my mind and it feels nice to not think or feel anything.

  A glance at my phone sends me into a panic as I realize I have fifteen minutes to get to my hair appointment. Rushing around to pull on some yoga pants and a t-shirt, I step into my shoes as I grab my keys and head out the door. It’s not often that I leave the house lately, so when the sunlight hits me, it catches my attention. Almost making me feel as though I’ve been deep in a cave without any light for months.

  The lady doesn’t even ask me what I want with my hair, she tells me my sister already told her what to give me. Foil and paint brushes later, I’m sitting under a heated hood waiting for this shit to process. I haven’t looked up from the magazine since I sat down, even though I’m not really looking at anything in particular.

  Commotion catches my attention as a group of women come in, all obviously here to spend time with each other and do that girly shit that I don’t miss in the slightest. They all look like Barbie and it makes me sick to watch them shift in the mirror as the pucker their lips for selfie after selfie. This would be why I don’t go out in public; I can’t tolerate vanity in its ugliest form.

  My irritation must be apparent, because one of them turns to glare at me, making sure I look away before she starts making comments to her friends. “She’s just jealous.”

  “Ha. Not hardly.” Before I can stop myself, I’ve responded. The timer goes off just then and I hear heels clicking beside me, interrupting me so I can’t continue to let these bitches know just how little I covet what they have.

  “Thank you Cami. I’m so happy you didn’t miss the appointment.” My sister follows me back to the chair and I don’t miss the reflection in the mirror of my current bagged head and the tacky cape that makes me look like I weigh twice as much as I do. Jesus, I look like hell.

  “I told you I’d get here. Did you come to check on me; make sure I didn’t bail?” I flop down in the chair and prepare myself for a rinse.

  “No, my appointment is right after yours, thought I’d come in a little early and help you pass the time.”

  “Thought you had to work today.”

  “My boss took one look at me and told me to get the hell out of there. He knew today was the party and that I was coming here to let Chloe fix all of my flaws.” The cosmetologist smiles at me; guess her name is Chloe. Wish she could fix all my flaws. “You’re gonna love the color I had her do for you.”

  I don’t argue. I don’t agree. Honestly, I don’t give two fucks about my hair color. If it weren’t for Carli, I wouldn’t be out of my house today at all. “You should totally come with me and get pedicures after this.”

  “I should really get back.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll just sit in your house and stare at some screen. We both know this. Let me treat you today. We’ll hit a bar before we go… I know you will drink a martini.” She’s going to be impossible about all of this. I already know this. “I also need to pick up the gifts for my bride’s maids. I’m thinking lingerie; what would you buy?”

  “Shouldn’t you be the one getting the gifts?” Water hits me in the eye just as I ask. Chloe should be a little less splashy and watch what the fuck she’s doing.

  “Okay crazy, yes but the bride also has to buy the girls a gift.” My day is officially over. This day is now being consumed by my precious sister and her gift of doing this to me every chance she has, except this time I can’t put her in her place because this day should be about her. She’s so lucky I still slightly like her.

  “Fine. But I’m going to need two of those martinis and don’t even think of forcing me into pink polish on anything.”

  I sit in the shop for what feels like two hours as I wait for Chloe to finish up Carli’s long curly hair. Thank god she didn’t need a color too. My sister finally hits my limit and puts me over the edge when we both stand up to leave. She poses in front of the mirror and pulls me against her. “Take a selfie with me. I want to Snap Chat Will.”

  I pull my arm out of hers quickly, “Nah. You go ahead.”

  “Seriously Cami. You look gorge and I want to keep memories from today! It’s not often that I get you out.” Forcing a half smile, I glance in the mirror and take a better look at my hair. It does look better than it has in months. “See that wasn’t so bad.”

  I do good and keep to myself as we leave the salon, not handing anyone their ass for their previous assumptions about me. My sister must notice because she gives me a huge smile just as the door closes behind us.

  We take off down the sidewalk and pass only a few doors before we step into a lingerie store. We’re met at the door by a bouncy blonde. My eyes couldn’t roll any further in the back of my head as I realize these are just the kind of people my sister would be near. I can only imagine how tonight will go. Her other bridesmaids are probably just like the girls I keep meeting today.

  “Can I help you find anything?”

  “Yes, I’m in need of six to seven pieces of sexy lingerie for myself and my bridesmaids. Well, there’s five of them, but I’m thinking I’ll get a couple for me.” Oh, Jesus. Five of us. Why does a person need five slaves on her big day?

  My sister and the blonde begin giggling and sorting through the lacy pieces of material when I see the leather section. I look around taking in the store in its entirety. I’m shocked my sister would walk into a place like this, but then again I guess I don’t know this side of her that well. I pictured her more of a classy, proper lingerie kind of girl. This place has a wide variety and it suddenly hits me that I can do some research in here while her indecisiveness takes over. I’ve been looking for unique scenes to write, I can’t think of a better place to get inspiration.

  My curiosity gets to me and before I know it I’m holding boxes of some of the oddest apparatuses trying to make sense of what everything is used for. A deep voice pulls my attention from the contraption in my hand, sending me instantly looking for my sister. I don’t do people and I really don’t want to have some freak try to approach me as I look at sex toys.

  Stepping just outside the rack and back to the l
ingerie section, I see where the voice came from. A man in a dark suit is sitting proudly on a couch with his arms thrown over the back on each side, his eyes move to me the second I’m in sight. His dark brown hair and perfect scruff get my attention, but I quickly look to the ground and walk swiftly past. “Do you think I should try the red one next?” A female voice comes through a dressing room just as I pass.

  “Your choice.” I can feel his eyes on me even when he responds to her. This is that paranoia that keeps me from leaving the house. Luckily my sister is loud and easy to find, not that this makes me feel any less awkward.

  “Cami. Pick out the one you want.”

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  “Stop it. I’m buying you something sexy and that’s final. If you don’t pick out something, I’ll buy you the frilliest pink one and make you try it on.”

  “Fuck off Carli.”

  “No really. I need your opinion on these. Which one should I surprise Will with on our wedding night?”

  “How about you go naked. That’s what guys want anyway.”

  “You’re no fun. I’m gonna try all of these on, Susan.” Oh, hell no. I should’ve seen this coming. Why can’t she be more like me and get what she came for and leave. No, she has to check out all the options. Hell, she’ll probably do research online to read the reviews.

  “Buy all of them. You’re gonna need options for the honey moon.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s over twenty on this rack that I want to see.” Fuck my life.

  Blondie leads my sister over to the dressing rooms and before she can get out of sight, she’s yelling through the store at me. “Cami. There’s a couch over here you can sit on and I’ll call you in to see them.” Yes, I’m very fucking aware of the damn couch.

  This is the shit that keeps me behind locked doors. I can feel my heart racing just thinking of sitting next to that heap of masculinity.