Free Roxy’s Story by V.C. Andrews Page B

ordered.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Pretend you came into the room by yourself.”
    I glanced at Mr. Bob. He nodded slightly.
    “I’m Roxy Wilcox,” I said. I thought for a moment and then extended my hand. She just
     looked at it.
    “Tell me again,” she said. “Only this time, let me know what you think of yourself.”
    I started to frown but stopped and looked at the two young women. It was as if they
     were watching a life-or-death event.
    “I’m Roxy Wilcox,” I said with what my father would call timbre in my voice. “And
     you are?” I asked with full expectation.
    Mrs. Brittany smiled. She looked at the two young women, who also smiled.
    “This is Camelia,” she said, nodding at the girlwith amber hair, “and this is Portia. They’re leaving now to tend to some other matters.”
    The moment she said that, they both stood up. She nodded at them, and they started
     out, both flashing smiles at me.
    Mrs. Brittany returned to her chair. “You may sit,” she said, nodding toward the settee.
    I glanced at Mr. Bob. I had the sense that every move I made, every sound I uttered,
     was being scrutinized. Although it made me self-conscious, I didn’t act timid. I sat
     as gracefully as I could and looked at her.
    “Perfect dress for her, Bob.”
    “Thank you,” he said.
    “Where did you get your hair done?”
    “I didn’t. I did it myself.”
    “Looks it,” she said. “So,” she continued, her arms resting on the arms of the oversize
     chair, “from what Bob tells me, you’re a reluctant runaway. You were thrown out and
     didn’t leave home of your own accord. How do I know you won’t tuck your tail between
     your legs and run home to Mommy and Daddy, begging for forgiveness and another chance?”
    “I don’t know why it’s any of your business, but I have no intention of going home,”
     I replied, even though I had been on the brink of making just that choice. “I’d rather
     beg in the streets.”
    Mrs. Brittany smiled and nodded. “Good.” She looked at Mr. Bob. “She’s got fire in
     her.”
    “I told you.”
    “Don’t congratulate yourself just yet, Bob.” He lost his smile. She turned back to
     me. “Why are you socertain that your father won’t have the police looking for you?”
    “When my father makes a decision the way he made this one, he usually doesn’t back
     down, and he knows that even if I were forcibly brought back, I’d surely run away
     again. We have an understanding. He orders and threatens, and I ignore him. It’s a
     game we’ve played all my life. He got tired of playing it. Besides, I’m going to be
     eighteen in a few weeks.”
    She widened her smile. “That’s good, but what about the rest of your family, uncles,
     aunts? Why didn’t you run to them?”
    “I have little or nothing to do with anyone on my father’s side. They’re military
     people, and my mother’s family is in France.”
    She continued to smile, as if I had given her the answers she had hoped to hear. “Yes,
     I understand you speak French fluently.”
    “ Tout à fait .”
    She nodded. “So you’re on your own?”
    “Yes.”
    “What do you fear the most right now?” she asked.
    “You mean while I’m here?”
    “No, of course not. I mean in general. What’s your biggest fear?”
    I didn’t have to think too hard about it. “Being dependent on other people,” I replied.
    She held her gaze on me, but I saw the way her eyes brightened. “Why don’t you go
     get yourself a drink in the bar, Bob? Roxy and I have a lot to discuss,and your standing there looking like an expectant father is disconcerting.”
    Mr. Bob laughed. “If there is one thing I don’t want to be, it’s an expectant father.”
    He winked at me and left. She waited until he was completely gone and then turned
     back to me.
    “If you join my organization, you’ll be dependent on only one person,” she said.
    I tightened my lips and nodded. “I guess that’s you,” I said.
    “No, my dear.