Cole whistles. “I didn’t know you had that much dough. How about sharin’ some with an old friend of yours?”

Tawni smirks. “We’ll need all of it if we’re going to pull this off.” She lowers her voice again. “First to pay off the guard and then to travel across the Moon Realm.”

I nod. “Thanks, Tawni. And you too, Cole. I wouldn’t stand a chance without your help.” I realize then that I don’t have to be alone anymore—can’t be alone, can’t stand it for one more second. I hit a new low the previous day and then everything started moving up again. My downward spiral is finally over.

It reminds me of something my dad said one year at Christmas, when we didn’t even have the money for presents, or fancy food, or anything. He said, “Sometimes, girls, you have to hit your lowest low just before you hit your highest high. It makes you appreciate the good things so much more.” Right now is starting to feel like one of those times. Yeah, maybe meeting a couple of friends and coming up with a plan to escape from a juvenile delinquent facility isn’t the best of times in my life, but it isn’t the worst either, and for that I am thankful.

We leave the cafeteria long after we arrived—we are the last to go. Although we aren’t satisfied by the food, we are still satisfied. By other things. More important things. Life-changing things. I am going to rescue my family, and hopefully myself at the same time.

Yeah, things are looking up.

Chapter Six

Tristan

Ahhh, a holiday at the Sandy Oasis. It has everything anyone could ever want. Soft, plush beds to sleep on. Warm, sandy beaches (they even simulate waves and paint picturesque ocean views). Half-naked girls ready to throw themselves at any celebrity who happens to make eye contact.

I throw up in my mouth when we arrive.

Roc is carrying my bags while my security detail protects me from the girls.

You’re probably thinking that I am a big wimp to let my father dictate the terms of my holiday so easily. I could’ve pushed back harder, tried to force him to see my point of view. But you see, the thing is, my father doesn’t like being pushed around. And I could tell he was in one of his moods, more stubborn than the lovechild of an ox and a mule. So I played along.

Roc and I aren’t staying in the Oasis. Not for long anyway.

We’re going to find the girl. I hope she is alive.

We reach my room with a record low of only three girls offering to have my babies. I guess I am losing my touch. From the looks in their eyes, I think they are offering to have them, like, right now, immediately. I don’t make eye contact for fear that they’ll rip their clothes off and throw themselves at me and my entourage.

The room isn’t really a room. More like an entire wing of the hotel, comprised of ten distinct rooms, only five of which are bedrooms. The others are sitting rooms, standing rooms, massage rooms, and kitchens. I don’t even count the six bathrooms as rooms. The cost for a single night would feed an entire subchapter of the Moon Realm for a year.

Luckily we aren’t staying long. “Quick and unexpected action is the most effective in battle,” my fighting instructor used to say. I am about to put his advice to the test. Perhaps not in a traditional battle, but in a battle nonetheless. A battle to take back my life.

I ask my security guards to wait outside, to monitor the four doors for any fake-tanned girls trying to gain access to my suite. When they are gone, I say, “Is this going to work, Roc?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” Roc says.

“Cut the sir crap, Roc, please,” I say. “We are about to embark on a rogue mission and I want you to be with me as a friend, not as a servant.”

“I’ll try, sir,” Roc says, grinning from ear to ear. I grin back, swatting at him playfully. He punches at me and for a moment there is a good chance it’s going to escalate into another practice fight, but then there’s a sudden knock at the door.

One of my guards enters, a giant with no neck and fists the size of boulders. His nose looks like it has been broken a dozen times—it is flat and wide. Although I expect to have to translate a series of grunts and hand signals, he surprises me by speaking perfect English, in an unexpectedly high voice.

“You have a visitor. He says he’s expected.”

“Name?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Kruger.”

“He’s okay,” I say.

The guard leaves, closing the door behind him, and a minute later the door reopens and another guy walks in. Compared to the guard, this guy looks tiny. He is actually about my size. Well, exactly my size actually, both in height, weight, and body type. Athletic build, six-two without shoes, a hundred and eighty five pounds dripping wet. It always amazes me how I can just snap my fingers and make things happen. I have no idea how they found someone who so closely resembles me in such a short time, but I don’t really care about the details. His face even kind of looks like mine. If he wears a hat and sunglasses, the guards won’t be able to tell the difference. Although each member of my security team would rank well across the entirety of the Tri-Realms when it comes to muscle, their IQs would likely sit in the bottom quartile.

“My money?” Kruger says. This guy gets right to the point, which is fine with me.

I wave Roc forward. He extracts a paper envelope from his pocket, which clinks as he hands it across. “A hundred Nailins,” he says. “Count it.”

The guy shakes his head and the parcel at the same time. “No need. It’s all there,” he says, as though he’s done so many shady deals that he can count the coins just by the sound of their clinking. Maybe he can. What do I know?

Next, Roc hands him some clothes, identical to the ones I am wearing. A gold tunic, a silver bracelet, brown moccasins. He even gives him a pair of my blue silk boxer shorts. “Put those on,” I say.

The guy strips right in front of us—clearly modesty is low on his priority list. I turn away, removing my own clothes and swapping them for a black tunic, black pants, and black boots. While I add a dark hat and sunglasses to my getup, Roc provides Kruger with a similar pair of sunglasses and a floppy, white beach hat. A current edition of a sun dweller magazine and a bottle of expensive wine from my father’s personal stash complete the façade.

With a nod, Kruger slides the money into the magazine and heads for the door. Roc trails after him. We’ve agreed that if the fake me leaves without Roc it will raise eyebrows; Roc goes everywhere with me. I hide off to the side, behind the red velvet drapes that provide privacy at the poolside windows. They exit, and just before the door closes, I see the gaggle of guards surround them. Kruger’s head is tilted slightly downward, so there will be even less likelihood that he’ll be recognized as anyone but me. The door closes and I hear Roc’s muffled voice as he explains to the guards that my guest will be resting in the suite while I am at the pool.

I’m not worried. They will buy the story. After all, they aren’t really trained to question their masters. Plus, they are trying to protect me from those who might hurt me, not from escaping. I’m not a prisoner—not technically.

I slip back around the drapes and peek through the window. A few minutes later, the dummy me and my entourage enter the pool area. Because we arrived in the early afternoon, it is already packed—finding a place to sit would be near impossible for any normal person. But I am no normal person, at least not to these people. It has all been prepared ahead of my arrival. A carved-out section of the patio, complete with tables, chairs, a vase of flowers, trays of food. To my disgust I notice a couple of deeply tanned, fake-boobed girls standing ready to fulfill my every desire. No doubt they are a gift from my dad.

I hope I never see him again.