The Statistic

Swingin'

(Gif 😭❤️)

Ahhh!!!! I want to apologize for my absence! So uncalled for. I went on vacation, and had plenty of time to write- I was just lazy.
That being said, I will only be updating on Friday's (aside from this chapter)

Enjoy ❤️😉

—

She glanced at the invitation tossed in front of her breakfast plate.

"A party?" She guessed.

"Yes, tonight."

She picked up the fancy and thick looking piece of paper. It only had the date and time, along with an address in elegant lettering.

"Seems a little shady, don't you think?"

"No, I know the man who sent it. I get at least one a month," Mr. Degray said, pouring himself coffee. It steamed in the cup he poured the black substance into. Without even blowing, he raised it to his lips and took a sip. "You'll have to arrive here a little earlier. You'll need to be done up, a bit." He said.

Blair slowly nodded, using her fork to cut a piece of the pancake on her plate. The cakey substance on her tongue felt wonderful, and it was delicious. She'd have to give Hazel praise. Blair was supposed to make breakfast, but Mr. Degray never ate anything and Hazel said it was her favorite time of the day, making breakfast. So, Blair didn't have to, and she got to enjoy the food Hazel made.

"Do... your kind have to eat anything, you know, normal?" Blair asked, glancing away from his stare.

"We can, it helps keep our energy up but it's not needed," he responded, taking a seat at the head of the table. He sipped in silence at his coffee, his stare glancing throughout the room.

Blair kept her gaze firmly on her plate, and the pancakes soaking up the syrup like cats soak up the sun on a Sunday afternoon.

—

She stared out the window, watching the lights of the city glide past. Finley was of course driving, while Mr. Degray sat beside her, sipping from a flask that he was able to hide in and out of his jacket.

"We aren't staying for long," he said to Blair, "So Finley, eleven sharp."

Blair checked the glowing blue clock up front. It was eight, so she had four hours to tough it out.

The outfit that Mr. Degray had put her in was risqué. It was a jumper of sorts, all lace. It framed her shape nicely, and had a zipper down the back.

"Yes, sir," Finley replied, using his turn signal to pull into a similar looking home from the night she first 'met' Mr. Degray.

The man beside her slid out first. She was surprised when he came around the other side of the car and opened the door for her, holding out a hand. His eyes were glancing around, much like a predator searching for prey.

She took his hand. It was calloused and dry, warm nonetheless. He helped her stand in her heels.

"Have a nice-" Finley began, but Mr. Degray slammed the door and silenced him.

As they walked up to the home, Blair noticed women on men's hips, their outfits more revealing than her own.

"What kind of party is this, exactly?" Blair asked the man beside her, her head tilted towards him. Yet, her eyes wouldn't meet his.

"You'll see," he replied, nodding his head towards a man who called his name.

Blair couldn't help it, but her heart began to speed up. What if he decided to just forget their whole contract and feed her to his friends? What if this was a slaughter house for well, her kind? She tried to budge from his hold, but his arm was tight around her waist.