Black Rose

Rest Stop.

"You know the house?" I asked, my eyes snapping up.

"Yes, I know the house. Everyone in town knows it." She said, with a tired look. "I keep saying that one of these days the sun is going to catch on those windows and start a forest fire, but what do I know."

"Town? What town?" I asked, glancing back out at Blake. He looked like he was finishing up his conversation with the driver, so I needed to finish ours before he got suspicious.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Buena Vista. It's like, twenty minutes up the road from here. Are you planning an escape route for tonight?"

"What?" I said, anxiously. She gave me a funny look.

"The party? Are you trying to get out of it? Because you know, the regional airport is just out of town, so I'm sure your sugar daddy could hook you up with some tickets."

At that moment, the door swept open behind us, letting in a rush of cold air. I quickly turned to Blake, and we met eyes. He smiled, and passed me one of the black clothes bags, along with a travel bag, which I assumed was filled with makeup. "Here you go, Rose. You go ahead and get ready, and I'll order us a bite to eat. Don't be afraid to take your time."

He threw me a charming smile, then kissed me lightly on the lips before gently pushing me away towards the bathrooms. I obeyed, briefly glancing back at the waitress as I left. There was a strange look on her face, almost as if she couldn't quite work something out.

I tried not to overthink it.

Once I had locked the bathroom door, I let myself relax, letting go of a sigh. Then I turned to the mirror, and I understood why Blake had told me to take my time.

I looked haggard.

The dress was still elegant but was crumpled and covered in creases from sitting for so long. My makeup was wearing off, smudged in places from where I had leant against my hand or rubbed my eyes on the drive. I did not look like the kind of person that belonged on the arm of Blake Ivy, that was for sure.

I hung the black clothes bag on the hook on the back of the door, then stripped, taking off the old dress and draping it over the toilet seat before turning my attention to my face. Not being very experienced in makeup, I had little idea of what I was doing, so I ended up trying about four times to fix my eyes. When I finally got it, I felt that I looked a little bit like a clown, but figured it was probably all in my head. Then I moved onto the black clothes bag, and carefully unzipped it.

The moment I saw the dress inside, I knew that my makeup didn't matter. No one would be looking at my makeup.

The new dress was gorgeous. It was a slim fitting dress that flared at the bottom, made from slick dark red fabric, adorned in embroidered black flowers, rising all the way along one side of the skirt, then across the chest and blooming at the neckline, and working its way down the opposite sleeve. It looked like the kind of dress you would see at the Oscars, bold, but tasteful, and beautiful.

I felt scared to put it on.

With the gentlest hands I had, I drew the dress from the bag and took a deep breath. The first challenge was to figure out how to put it on. Because it was such a slim fitting dress, it took a bit of work to get it to sit right. It didn't take me long to realise that I could hardly walk in it, too.

If I had to, I wouldn't be able to run from him.

It doesn't matter, I told myself, that can wait. I can wait.

When it was finally on properly, I took a deep breath then turned to the mirror. Of course, the dress was gorgeous, fitting my form in all the right places, and loose where it should have been.

It made me feel like an imposter.

Deep down, I knew that I wasn't some glamorous woman to be used as arm candy. That wasn't me. It was what Blake wanted me to be.

I hated it.

I felt my eyes start to sting and I quickly blinked, looking away and shoving away the depressing thoughts that plagued my head. I collected all of the makeup back into the travel purse and hung the old dress in the clothes bag, then took another deep breath to steel myself. I pasted on a neutral expression, then collected my things and left the bathroom.

Blake was sitting at a table in the far corner from the bathroom, eating a plate of buttermilk pancakes. The waitress was awkwardly hovering close by. Her jaw dropped when she saw me come in. She looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. Blake, however, just gave me a nod and a small smile.

"Beautiful, Rose. Just gorgeous." He said, standing up and lifting his own clothes bag from a hook nearby. "Now come sit, and have a bite to eat before we go. Though not too much, of course. That dress hides no secrets."

I felt a burn of guilt flare up in my chest, but I couldn't help noticing the waitress glare at Blake as he walked past, across to the bathroom.

I heard the lock click and took a shaky breath, sitting down in the chair opposite where Blake was. The waitress glanced at the bathroom, then carefully sat down, where he had been, and leant across the table. With her so close, I could read her name tag. Olivia.

"I know who you are," She said, her voice a low whisper. My heart skipped a beat. "I didn't recognise you at first with the makeup and the dress, but I know now. You're that girl from the news, aren't you?"

I nodded, thinking about the mic on my neck, then spoke, looking at the bathroom door. "I'm sorry, you must have the wrong girl." I said, giving her a look that I hope she could understand.

She looked confused for a second, before she seemed to understand. "He can't hear us. Not if we talk quietly."

"I'm not sure what you mean." I said, as I shook my head, and lifted my hair, pointing at the mic and then at the door. She got the picture, and frowned, thinking.

"Oh, right, I'm so sorry for disturbing your meal." She said, a perfect actor, as she pulled out her phone, tapped on it, and opened notes. She typed something, then showed it to me.

Kidnapped?

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. She frowned, concerned, then typed something again before showing me.

My dad is sheriff. Call him?

I shook my head quickly, taking the phone from her.

He'll know.

She gave me a pleading look, as if asking, what do I do then?

I bit my lip and glanced at the bathroom door. Blake would be done any second now, and the ruse would be up. I quickly typed a message and gave the phone back to her.

Come tmrw, when party over. Basement. His name is Blake Ivy. Kid and mom there too. Pls help.

I watched as she read the message, and her face went as white as paper. She nodded at me, and lightly touched my arm.

She mouthed at me, "Good luck," then stood up, and disappeared into the kitchen.

No sooner had she gone that Blake reappeared, dapper and proud in the same black suit as before, but a fresh dark red shirt and a black tie. He looked like the devil.

He threw me a smile, waiting by the door.

"Come, Rose. The party awaits."

I stood and obeyed, leaving the pancakes behind, along with the Sheriff's daughter.

I could only hope I would see her again.