The Prize Girl

I bit my lower lips. Romario and his men sat ten feet away from the prize stage. He’s laughing in satisfaction before looking at me. He smiled wickedly. It felt more uncomfortable to stand among the trophies. I knew Romario has always put up a lot of money for the prize but to put a girl, it’s a new thing. How much do I worth again? Ah, I remember – one hundred fifty thousand fucking dollars.

The crowd couldn’t stop shouting. They drank up the free beer as if it was liquid oxygen. After the third glass, a middle-aged man threw up right in front of the stage showing me everything he had eaten today. I felt sick even more. I just wanted this to finish.

I stared at the whole place. It was an illegal race that was held under a fly over. The rider would race around the marked city roads then ride back in here. It has been five minutes since they launched to the road. It reminded me when I was used to go here and watched Dad on his yellow racing motorbike. Yes, he was a rider too – the best of his time. That is how he met Romario. It was a victorious life for him before the accident happened that took his bike and Mom’s life. He gave up everything. He sold the house he paid with the winning prize to pay his endless debt with gamblers. Unfortunately he couldn’t pay Romario and died out of kidney failure last week out of his alcoholic habit and I had to pay it with my body.

I let go a hard sigh as I realized that the thing I should worry now is who would win me and what would he do to me. I closed my eyes to pray silently. It had been a hard life for me, eighteen years old and an orphan - in addition, a grand prize of an illegal street race.

Suddenly, the crowd cheered in a crazy loud. I opened my eyes then looked at the finish line as fast as the black bike gushed into the finish line. Its roar emerged through the air screaming its victory. Sand flew everywhere as he pulled the brake. The tail of the bike went up from the sudden discharge. The crowd tried to break the barrier to the starting arena. Without taking off his helmet, he rested his bike then got off. He lifted his arm and pointed me. The crowd followed his lead and stared at me. I stared at it like a foolish girl in a science Olympic. Two of Romario men took me by my arms then lifted me down. They dragged me to his place. I felt numb and had no power to even struggle to get away. The escort was finished after we reached a foot away from the winner.

Some of the riders returned to the finish line desperately. One of them threw his helmet to the ground. Some whispered quite loud for me to catch, “Damn it. He’s good. I never saw him before. He never raced here but he is…unbelievable fast.”

The guy they’re talking about open the eyes part of his helmet showing the gray eyes again. It was even better closer, I thought.

“Get on the bike.” He ordered. I followed him and got on after him. I tried to pull my skirt down as some guys whistled when I sat on the bike. The guy pulled his gas pedal to shut them. He turned his head to Romario’s place to give a nod of respect. I glanced at the satisfied Romario as he waved a little bye.

In a swing, we gushed through the road, “Hold on tight.” He rode the bike fast, I lingered my arms around his waist. I couldn’t help not to hold it tight. The cold breeze swept away my brunette hair. I rested my face on his warm back. He has broad shoulders and from the thing I’m holding on, I bet he has great abs.

We launched through the cities. All the lights turned into a line of colorful sparks. He cut through the traffic – just sliding into every space he could get. We stopped for the traffic light. A reflection of mine on an SUV’s window shocked me. My hair was in such a mess. Before I had the chance to even touch it, we rocketed through the road again. He made a turn to a building then its basement.

To my little automotive knowledge, I still could recognize some astonishing cars. Ferrari, Rolls Royce, Lamborghini, Maseratti and Aston Martin were parked beautifully in the basement. We slid in to the parking space. 

I went off the motorbike and comb my hair with my fingers. He went off after me then put his hand on his helmet. He pushed up the helmet off his head. I was astounded with the view in front of me. I was thinking the one who would win me was a sloppy guy who would just grab my breast or butt as he won me.

The guy who seems to be one or two years older than me has a pair of gray eyes – as I already noticed since the first time – under his perfect blonde eyebrows; his hair was shaken and returned to its spiky shape. He has hard jaws framing his full lips.

I gulped in my nervousness. Heat crept to my face, “What’s your name?” He asked me.

“Schuyler. Schuyler Robinson.”

“Sky.” He cut my name, “I’m Brad. I won you.”

“Yeah. I remember that.” I nodded and looked down.

“Let’s go.” He said then walked into the elevator. We waited for the elevator in silence. He slid in a card to a slot in the elevator then number twelve glowed. I dared not to speak at all as he did so. The elevator opened in the twelfth floor. It wasn’t like any other apartment where you have neighbors. The elevator was in your room – the whole floor is your room!

“Wow.” I whispered in amazement. He turned his face to me and smiled a bit. I blushed and looked down.

“This is where I live.” He threw his motor keys and helmet, took the gloves off and took off his black leather jacket revealing a navy blue t-shirt. “And you,” he pointed me, “will be my housekeeper.”

My eyes widened in shock and relief, “What?”

“I live alone. I don’t like tidying things and I can’t cook. Your job is to tidy this place, shop for groceries, cook, do the dishes and do my laundry. Get it?” He asked me.

I waited for my brain to digest his words, “But…where do I live? I think this place is too far from my house…” I don’t even know if my house is still there. The landlord probably rented it to someone else already since I didn’t pay the rent for the last two months because Dad would took all the money I earned from my part time job for gambling.

“You’ll live here. There’s an extra room, follow me.” Brad walked around the apartment showing me rooms. “This is the kitchen. I haven’t stocked the fridge so tomorrow I’ll give you the money to stock it. There’s a supermarket one block from here. Breakfast should be served at seven thirty. I wouldn’t have lunch at home so you just need to cook for you and dinner should be served around eight. I’ll make sure to call if I don’t go home or late.” We moved to the next room leaving the cozy kitchen.

My room is in the right corner and his room is in the left corner of the apartment. Brad took his black leather wallet out then took five hundred dollars out of it, “Here is to stock the fridge.”

“Umm, I think it’s too much…” I said honestly out of my thrifty thought. I am now convinced how rich he is.

 “Keep it for grocery cash. If it runs out, don’t hesitate to ask some more from me. And this,” He took another five hundred dollars, “for you to buy some clothes and other necessity you need.  Just keep the change." Brad slid out a card from his wallet, "This is the duplicate card for this room. Just slide it in the elevator. Now, you can settle down in your new room. Feel free to ask me anything.” He turned his back and walked away.

I kept the money neat and the card then walked into my room. The room is as big as my living room. I gawked at the queen size bed covered in brown sheet topped with fluffy white pillows and thick light brown blanket. I sat on it as I felt it under my hand. I smiled. I never have a nice bed. This is the nicest bed I’ve ever get.

There’s a knock on the door. I anxiously opened the door. Brad held some clothes, “Here is some old t-shirt and pants. I think it would be too big for you but I guess it’s better than your shirt and that denim skirt. I’m not using it anymore so feel free to wear it.” He handed me the clothes then walked back to his room. I closed the door after I heard his door closed.

Welcome to your new life, Sky.

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