The Game Read online

  The Game

  Natalie Clarke

  Copyright © 2020 Natalie Clarke

  All rights reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Natalie Clarke

  https://natalieclarke98.wixsite.com/website

  Paperback ISBN: 9798647437907

  Ebook ASIN: B088X2FND5

  Playlist

  ‘Is This Love’ – Whitesnake

  ‘November Rain’ – Guns ‘n’ Roses

  ‘In The Night’ – The Weeknd

  ‘Cool’ – Dua Lipa

  ‘Hold Me While You Wait’ – Lewis Capaldi

  ‘Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby’ – Cigarettes After Sex

  ‘Falling’ – Harry Styles

  ‘Bruises’ – Lewis Capaldi

  ‘Apologize’ – One Republic ft. Timbaland

  This book is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to mature and explicit content. This book may be unsuitable for some audiences as it contains explicit sexual scenes, references to suicide, gambling addiction and some scenes of sexual violence from the offset.

  If any of these are offensive to you, this book may not be for you.

  Please excuse some British spellings of some words, please remember that I am a British author writing American characters in a story that takes place in the USA.

  For my best friend Meghan.

  Prologue

  There’s a room.

  A sliver of light filters in through the small crack in the curtains, casting the room in shadows of darkness, what little light there is, is cast onto the only piece of furniture in the empty room, a bed.

  It’s dark.

  It’s so dark, I can barely see a thing.

  Everything is still and calm.

  My eyes search the room, looking for any sign of movement.

  There’s nothing, just, silence.

  I hear a muffled scream, but it’s like I’m listening through a wall. It sounds like a woman.

  Then I see her.

  She’s thrust from the shadows and into the light, falling onto the bed hard as though she were pushed, she lands on her front though she rights herself quickly.

  From where I’m stood, she looks young, she can’t be any older than twenty. She has long dark red hair that glistens in the light. Her slim frame makes her look so tiny on the huge bed.

  She draws her knees up under her chin, wrapping her thin arms around her legs, hugging them tightly to her chest.

  She’s scared.

  I look closer, she looks familiar.

  She shifts her position slightly and then I see it, her face is so much clearer now, I know her.

  Sara Godfrey.

  My mother.

  I recognise her from photographs I was shown when I was younger.

  How did I not see it before?

  Her eyes are fixated on something I can’t see, something that’s hidden in the dark.

  Something, or someone?

  A tall, well-built man steps into the light, his knees brushing the edge of the bed as he stares down at the girl.

  I can’t see his face. All I can make out is that he seems to be middle-aged, if not a little younger. Despite his age, he looks strong, really strong.

  My eyes flick back to the girl on the bed, to the look of pure terror on her face as she stares up at him.

  Something in the back of my mind is telling me that I know this man, but I can't put my finger on it.

  Oh my God, it’s him.

  Fuck.

  Suddenly, his arm shoots forward and grips the girl on the back of her neck forcefully, pulling her closer.

  She whimpers, clawing at his huge hand in an attempt to escape his grasp, but it has no effect.

  He tugs her closer and crashes his mouth to hers forcefully, before tipping forward so that he’s towering over her on the bed. She struggles, kicking and squirming underneath him, which only makes him tighten his grip on her.

  She cries, her muffled screams echo through the empty room.

  “No!” I shout.

  I need to get to her, I need to help her, but I can’t.

  A thick wall of glass separates us.

  I watch as he tears her dress off and rips her underwear away from her, forcing his way between her trembling legs while he undoes his jeans.

  My fists clench at the thought at what happens next, a low growl rising up my throat.

  He covers her body with his as he forces himself inside.

  She screams, the sound tearing through her.

  “No. Stop! Get away from her!” I bang my fists against the glass, but it’s no use.

  Her screams turn into sobs, as his punishing thrusts become rougher and harder. She continues to struggle but after a few minutes, she stops fighting, she simply gives up. Her body goes slack, her hands falling to her sides.

  “Stop!”

  Where she lies, pinned down on the bed beneath him, she turns her face to me, looking directly at me as though she can see me through the glass.

  Her eyes are filled with tears, pleading with me to help, but I can’t.

  I pound my fists harder against the glass, over and over but nothing happens.

  I roar in anger, my palms pressed flat against the glass, I cast my eyes down to the ground as I regain my breath, squeezing my eyes shut in frustration.

  I force my gaze back up to the scene in front of me, when I realise that the girl on the bed is no longer my mother…

  It’s her.

  I wake with a start. My body slick with sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs, only one word escapes my lips as I gasp for breath.

  “Hayley.”

  Chapter 1

  Hayley

  “So what was it this time?” I ask, my chin resting in the palm of my hand as I lean on the table, my raised eyebrow aimed at my best friend, Gwen, who is sat opposite me in the booth.

  We’re sat in Terry’s, a bar where my friends and I meet up almost on a weekly basis, well, as much as we can. There’s only a few other people in the bar today besides us, soft voices travel across the small, cosy room while classic rock filters through the decades old Wurlitzer. The bar itself is old and traditional, only minor repairs and refurbishments have been made over the years, the owner wanting to keep it as authentic as possible.

  “Okay, so, you know how I mentioned my boss being super-hot?” she asks as she stirs her drink with her straw absentmindedly.

  I nod, taking a sip of my coke.

  “Well, I... I kissed him.”

  I choke on my drink.

  “You did what?” Aaron, my other best friend sits beside me, his mouth hanging open, the corners curved up in amusement.

  “Well he wasn’t impressed, as you can imagine…” She averts her gaze, her auburn hair creating a curtain around her face as she avoids meeting our eyes. “Turns out he’s gay.”

  Aaron and I both burst into a fit of laughter.

  “What the hell made you kiss him?”

  “I was getting signals from him, every now and then he'd smile and give me a wink, how the hell was I supposed to know that he was giving them to Matthew, the guy who sits directly behind me?”

  I shake my head, my laughter dying down. “Oh my God, Gwen.”

  “You know, come to think of it, the amount of time Matthew, spent in his office probably should have sounded alarm bells, like, it doesn’t take twenty-five minutes to drop some papers off on his desk.�
� She ponders for a moment. “One time, I walked in and he was just sat, casually on the edge of my boss' desk, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, his hair an absolute mess.”

  “Bet that’s not all he did on that desk,” Aaron snickers.

  Gwen casts him an unamused look. “Ew.”

  “Sorry you got fired.” I reach for her hand across the table, linking our fingers together like we've always done since we were children.

  “Thanks. Oh well, plenty of jobs where that one came from, didn’t really like it anyway.”

  For the past two years, Gwen has been fired from six different jobs, all for different reasons, many of which she likes to claim as not her fault. You name any job in the five boroughs of New York and Gwen has most likely been fired from it. This was her second job in four months.

  Gwen and I have been friends since we were five years old, joined at the hip, we grew up together, though we're more like sisters than friends. She’s a few inches shorter than my 5’8”, jade green eyes, beautiful deep red hair and a slim but curvy frame. She’s beautiful, and boy does she know it. She has men stopping in the street, staring as she walks by, swinging her hips to add effect.

  “If you carry on at the rate you’re going, they’ll be no jobs left, you'll have been fired from them all,” Aaron chimes in.

  She flips him the finger, which only makes Aaron and I laugh harder.

  We met Aaron when he and his family moved here from California in our sophomore year. Aaron is tall and slender, sporting a thick head of dirty blonde hair that complements his steel grey eyes, his face is slim and symmetrical. He’s attractive, girls fall at his feet, but he's not interested in any of them, I've always wondered why. He dated a girl a couple of years ago while in his first year at NYU, but it only lasted a few months, since then there’s been no one.

  Gwen attended college only to drop out a few weeks later, she never did enjoy education, even at school. She was the student who’s excuse of not having any homework was that the dog ate it, though she doesn’t have a dog, that excuse got old pretty quickly which is why she ended up in detention so often. She’s loud, carefree, and doesn’t give a shit what people think about her, she exudes confidence.

  For me, I never managed to go, as much as I wanted to, we could never afford it. Since my mom died when I was seventeen, my dad and I have struggled financially, nearly every penny we have has been pooled into savings to pay off my mom's medical bills.

  Gwen turns to me. “Anyway, how've you been? We haven’t seen you in forever, you've been working like sixty hours a week.”

  “Not quite, but the extra shifts are wearing me out."

  For the past few months it’s felt like I’ve been spending ninety percent of my time at work in order to help pay off our debts. I work at my uncle’s diner across the street from Terry’s, it’s not my dream job but I enjoy it well enough, I’m just lucky to even have a job at all. I’m in an endless cycle of work, eat, sleep, repeat. I’m starting to think I should set up camp in the back room, kit it out with a sleeping bag to save the commute to and from work.

  “What about asking your uncle for a few hours less?” Gwen asks.

  “I can’t afford to, Gwen, I need all the money I can get, besides, I’m the one who asked Uncle Jack for the extra shifts. Though my dad’s talking about going to some casino tonight, he said he could do with some luck so he’s dragging me along with him.” I roll my eyes.

  “Mmm… think of all the super-rich, hot guys that’ll be there,” she says dreamily.

  “That’s not really the point in going tonight, besides, what is a hot rich guy who can buy just about anything he wants, going to see in me?”

  She slaps her palm down on the table, making me jump. “Shut up! You’re gorgeous, inside and out, anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot, right Aaron?”

  “Absolutely.” I glance to my right, Aaron is gazing down at me, a kind smile on his lips, though with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

  “Hayley, babe, I love you, but I don’t ever want to hear you put yourself down again, if I do, so help me God I’ll slap you,” she warns with a wink.

  “Okay.” I smile.

  Gwen sighs and picks up a menu. “Shall we order, I’m starved?”

  “Me too.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Hey,” I call, as I shut the front door after Gwen drops me home.

  I enter the living room where I find my dad getting ready for the casino tonight, just finishing buttoning up his light blue shirt.

  “Hi sweetheart. Gwen and Aaron alright?”

  “Yeah, they’re fine. Though Gwen got fired, again.”

  He chuckles. “What for this time?”

  “She kissed her boss, unbeknown to her, her very gay boss.”

  “Oh, Gwen, that girl has a lot to learn.” He shakes his head.

  “That she does,” I agree. “Dad, is it really necessary that I come with you tonight?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The past few times you’ve been, you’ve gone without me, why do you want me to come with you now?”

  A couple of months back I found out my dad was a member at some casino in the city. I tried telling him that he was wasting his time, that casinos don’t actually want to give you money, they only take it. For some reason he’s dragging me along with him this time as it’s free entry for plus-ones.

  “Because you’re my lucky charm and I need you.” He grips the tops of my arms. “Hayley, we’re going to get lucky tonight, I can feel it. Tonight is where our lives change and our problems are a distant memory.” He kisses the top of my head before brushing past me, disappearing into the kitchen.

  I let out a deep sigh, before heading upstairs to shower and get changed.

  I hope my dad is right in me being his lucky charm, we could use a little luck right now.

  Chapter 2

  Hayley

  We walk through the grand entrance of The Royal Hotel and Casino, a tall, majestic skyscraper that towers above New York City.

  We hand the man at the door our IDs, he looks between me and the photo on my driver’s licence and nods. He looks to my dad and does the same.

  “Nice to see you again, Sir,” the man on the door says to my dad, offering a pleasant smile and a curt nod.

  “Thank you,” my dad replies.

  I eye my dad, my brow raised. “Just how many times have you been here?” I smirk.

  He offers me a tense smile before he leads me away and further into the casino.

  It is huge. I don’t know what I was expecting to find exactly, but not anything like this. I’ve seen casinos in movies, but The Royal seems grander, more regal. Huge pillars run from the floor to the ceiling where beautiful glass chandeliers hang. The ambient lighting from the wall lamps gives off a warm and moody atmosphere, almost seductive.

  The entire ground floor is full of blackjack tables and roulette wheels. Running from the left wall and across most of the back of the casino are rows of slot machines, on the opposite side, are a small cluster of shops and a bar. A grand staircase covered in red carpet runs up the center of the room leading to what looks like poker tables on the first floor. The room is packed with people, the sounds of laughter echoing around the hall.

  From what I can see, there are two types of people, each group is easy to distinguish.

  The first group of people, the smaller group, are like me and my dad, dressed smart casual, dressing up a pair of jeans with a blazer, or a dress with a pair of heels. The other much larger group look like they just stepped out of a James Bond movie, dressed immaculately from head to toe in tuxedos and floor length evening gowns of every colour, they look beautiful.

  I look down at my outfit, a simple baby pink dress that ends just below my knees, a cardigan, the only one I could find in my wardrobe that would look classy enough for a place like this, and plain slip on shoes, the smartest and least worn I could find.

  I feel monumentally underdressed.

&nbs
p; I never cared much for material objects, like a shiny new pair of designer shoes or a Louis Vuitton handbag, but in places like this, surrounded by a sea of people whose outfits probably cost more money than I make in half a year, it makes me feel... uncomfortable, unworthy, somehow.

  “Let's try the slot machines,” my dad suggests as he starts to steer me toward them.