I Am Chameleon : A Dark Romance Novel, page 1
Copyright 2023 By Author A Double
All Rights Reserved.
First Edition
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The use of any real company and/or product names is for literary effect only. All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.
This book is intended for an 18+ audience.
Cover and interior design: Blurbs and Baubles
Motherbear – Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me. Without you, I wouldn’t be here.
That being said. Step away from this book slowly and don’t make any loud noises. Thanking you!
This book was a labour of love that I’ll never truly be able to explain.
To those who hoped I wouldn’t succeed – Suck a fart oot my arse!
Trigger Warning
This book is recommended for readers ages 18 & over! This book discusses sensitive subjects that may be distressing to some readers.
TRIGGER LIST
Violence
Strong Language
Graphic Sexual Content
BDSM
Traumatic Memories
Mental Health Issues
Racism
Talks of Childhood Trauma
Contents
Scottish Glossary
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty one
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
Chapter Thirty Seven
Chapter Thirty Eight
Chapter Thirty Nine
Epilogue
Phoenix of Chameleon
Acknowledgements
Follow A. Double
Scottish Glossary
Disnae - Doesn’t
Isnae - Isn’t
Intae - Into
Two Pence - Advice or Thoughts
Boak -Vomit
Baws - Testicles
Fannies - Assholes
Edgey - Keep watch
Mind - Remember
Cosh - Baton
Gonnae - Going to
Canne - Cant
Johnny - Condom
haud yer whesht - Shut up
Hunners - Loads
Scooby do - Clue
Specs - Glasses
Halfwit - Idiot
Lassies - Women
Ach Well - Oh well
Bampot - Idiot
Fanny baws - Idiot
Tosspot - Wanker
Wean - Child
Cushty - All good
Pete tong - Wrong
Bawl - Cry
Greeting - Crying
Manky - Dirty
Hank Shank - Wank
Pam and her five sister - Hand job
Yer mitts - Your hands
Aff me - Off me
Awrite - Hello
Hink - Think
Fitbaw - Football
Stick the nut in em - Headbutt
Glaickit - Stupid
Dae - Do
Up a gum tree - You're kidding yourself
Shut yer geggy - Shut your mouth
Huv - Have
Maw - Mum
Prologue
Zoey
17 years ago
Don’t show them your fear, it makes them fucking worse.
“Go away!” I say with more confidence than I feel. Something hard hits my back and pain tears through me. “Ouch!” At least it isnae my head this time. I hear footsteps approaching, but I refuse to turn around. Disnae matter who it is, they’re not here to help. They’re never here to help.
“Aww, the coon’s sad because no one wants to play with her,” a voice sings behind me.
“Maybe if she wasn’t so dirty, people would play with her?” another chimes in.
“No amount of soap can wash that manky colour off!” a gruff voice puts his two pence in. Now, the adult voice I recognise. Mr Hennesy, the home manager, hates my guts and disnae hide it. I offend his eyes ... Doesn’t stop his fucking hands from wandering though. I shiver at the memories that flash through my mind, and the bastards must see it because the peanut gallery starts up again.
“How can she be cold? She’s fucking burnt. Selfish bitch should actually share what she has on with us who actually need it.”
I tense at the last sentence. I don’t like the sound of that at all. I turn and face the clan of my fellow orphans. We live in this group home because we have no one. You would think having that in common would bring us together. It did them - but not me.
I’m black.
Doesn’t matter if that’s only skin deep, and that I was born right here in Glasgow just the same as them. Nope! I’m not one of them and they make sure I know that – daily. I back up slowly, my feet squeaking on the laminate flooring as I shuffle. When the back of my thighs hit the wooden ledge at the window, I know I have nowhere to fucking run.
They break into their favourite chant just to hurt me.
“Eenie, meenie, miney, moe. Catch a …” they continue on using that horrible racist word again.
I attempt to block out their voices as I stare at the faces of my tormentors who are gathered in front of me. Crowding me in. Nasty, male faces. I dig my scraggy nails into my palms to stop the whimper that threatens to escape me. Crying makes it fucking worse – Don’t show them your fear! I take a deep breath and brace myself to fight like my life depends on it, because with this mob you never fucking know. Maybe they’ll kick me to death. Wouldn’t put it past them. They get away with anything here.
I stare them down one by one, attempting to show no fear. When my gaze lands on Mr Hennesy, I freeze. He’s the one. The one in charge, the one supposed to keep us in line and healthy. The one supposed to help us thrive and keep us safe. His grey eyes stare into my whiskey brown’s, and mine soften a little, hoping that just this once he will step in and stop this madness. No such luck.
“Just make sure not to hit her face,” he says, looking me dead in the eye with a hardened glint and finality that gives me the boak. He turns and makes a hasty retreat, like always.
Oor Mr Hennesy doesn’t like to be a witness … during the day. Nights are another fucking matter. My stomach drops into my shoes and my muscles tense, when I get the tell tale signs that I might pee myself. Aww no! Not now! The last thing I fucking need is to give these pricks another reason to heckle me. Stay strong – don’t show them your fear. I take a deep breath and open my eyes, courage arriving from somewhere. lf all else fails, kick at least one in the baws! The thought makes me smile, and I decide to use that to my advantage. I smile so hard it hurts, but it's effective!
“Why the hell is she smiling like that? Doesn’t she get what we are going to do to her?” bucktooth Billy shudders. Confusion on his face.
I keep the smile going, hoping that he keeps talking rather than fighting. But that would be too fucking easy.
“Shut the fuck up, Billy, and grab her!” Robert bellows. Robert, or Rambo as he likes to be called, is the gang leader because he's fucking huge! At around sixteen years old, he’s already six feet. Shame the lights are on but nobody's home.
He sneers at me with both hatred and want at the same time. How the fuck is that even possible? I shiver and I could spew at the thought of his chubby fingers touching me. Just as the mob starts to move in my direction to try to corner me, I hear a voice from behind them and joy settles inside me. Well, joy and relief!
“Picking on a helpless girl? And it takes five of you for that. If I didn’t already think that you were a bunch of fucking fannies, I do now!”
I look past the group and into the piercing blue eyes of the only friend I have in this place, or anywhere else. Spencer. The group turns to him and aims to rush him instead, but stops suddenly. I'm a little surprised until Spencer speaks again.
“Right lads, I’ve had a shitty day and to be honest, I’m feeling a little stabby this fine afternoon. First one to touch me, get’s to feel this.”
I duck my head to the s
“Look at this, lads, he’s got a fucking knife.” Rambo states the obvious, trying to get some sniggers. He gets fucking nothing – everyone’s eyes are on the nutcase with the pocket-knife and zero fear of repercussions.
“W-why do you have that?” Billy stammers, obviously aware of the danger he is in just now.When he finally answers, it takes everything in me not to laugh and draw the attention back to me.
“Why do I have it? Well. I noticed that there was a lot of chewing gum on the furniture in this place and I thought it was my duty to pick it off with this fine instrument. What the fuck do you think ya tosser!”
I see a couple of the boys huddle closer together and stand behind Rambo. Fucking cowards. Spencer continues talking, clearly enjoying their fear.
“I got it, and on my nice walk home I was deciding which one of you cunts I was gonna slash with it,” he states so matter-of-fact, it even puts me on edge. But that feeling disappears just as quickly as it arrived. He would never hurt me, or anyone who didn’t deserve it for that matter. But these guys… these guys are fucked.
“You know you’ll get kicked out this time if you do anything else Spencer,” Rambo says, but the authority in his voice is gone.
“We were just playing around with her, weren’t we co…. – emm I mean Zoey,” Billy says eagerly.
I see Spencer bristle behind them – he knows what he almost called me. What they always call me when they know they can get away with it. I look over to him with unshed tears in my eyes, and I see his rage cool and soften. He’s calming down just for me. He knows I need him here – not kicked out. I know I need to defuse the situation so I do what I always have. I shrug it off.
“Yeah dude, it's ok, they were just playing around. Weren’t you lads?” A chorus of bobbing heads is my reply. If I wasn’t so broken from my daily life here, I would actually find that funny.
“Yeah, they were all just leaving,” I say to prompt the halfwits to leave before they fucking can't.
They scurry around Spencer while he keeps eye contact with each of them. Unfazed. Rambo turns around to look at me quickly before leaving. The hatred in his eyes is breath-taking. That one look shows a promise that I hope he keeps to himself. I don’t want any part of what Rambo has in store for me. He turns away and walks faster than usual out the door to meet his little gang of puppets. As soon as he is out of sight, Spencer starts laughing.
“You are a nutcase, Spence,” I chastise, but even I can hear the laughter in my voice. He continues laughing and makes his way towards me, tucking the pocket knife into the front of his jeans.
“You know I hate when you call me Spence, it's not even my full surname,” he groans.
When he stops in front of me, all the laughter stops. He grabs me and pulls me in for a cuddle. The warmth of his embrace brings the tears forward again and finally, I let them fall. I can be myself with Spencer. He would never hurt me or use this weakness against me. I’m brought out of the comfort of his hands by his words.
“Did they touch you?” he whispers, and I flinch at his words.
It makes me feel sick that he even had to ask that, but this is my life here. Surrounded by wandering hands. I pull away so I can look him in the eye. It’s the only way I can get him to believe I’m okay and telling him the truth. He’ll go on a rampage if he thinks I’m lying.
“No, they didn’t… not this time.” I mutter the last part, as if it needs to be said. It doesn’t. Over the 7 months I have lived in this home, I have questioned a lot of things. Why I’m still here is one of them.
I tried to run away once but found myself at the mercy of a guy who wanted to give me more than somewhere to sleep. When I didn’t come ‘willingly,’ he beat me. And when I ran from him, I fell downstairs at Queenie… He left me there – all night until someone found me the next day and took me to the hospital. That’s when they contacted Mr Hennesy. I’ll never forget what he said when he saw me.
“Tsk, tsk. Couldn’t even run away right. Thought you people saw better at night,” he chuckled to himself. “Don’t run off again, the next person might actually kill you,” he winked, sending shivers over my cold and beaten body.
“On second thought” he says before turning and lunging at me. I try to move but everything hurts. I feel a tightness around my neck and then a release.
“I’ll take this for safe keeping.”
I look up to see Mr Hennesy clutching my Z initialled locket. The only keepsake I have from my mum before she died. The only picture I have of her is inside it too.
“If you want to get it back, you better start showing a little gratitude, for giving you a place to live.” he says while leering at me. The tears burn but I refuse to let them fall.
I haven’t tried to leave since. Better the demons I know in here than the demons I could meet outside.
In the three months that Spence has been here, the beatings have reduced considerably, compared to when he isn’t around. If he walked in, he has taken on the bullies himself in my place. He’s made me feel safer than I think I ever have in my life. Even the hands that grab me during the night don’t happen as often. I am so grateful to him. He’s two years older than me at fourteen and will have to leave at some point. I just hope he doesn’t have to leave too soon. Without him I’m fucked.
Chapter One
Not-last-night, but-the-night-before. 24, robbers-came-to, my-door. “Jesus!” You know it’s a bad fuck when you are keeping time with a playground skipping song.
I look down at the ass I’m relentlessly pounding in my shameless rhythm. My hand print is still fresh on one of her cheeks. Her wailing and moans of encouragement continue on as if she’s trying to excite me. She is doing the fucking opposite.
I curl over her body intimately, but it's fleeting. I reach my arm forward and shove her face into my white pillow, muffling her incessant screeching.
“Fucking haud yer whesht and let me sing,” I grunt. I need to reach my happy ending, and soon.
I pound into my willing and eager bed bunny at a punishing rate.
Spanish dancers turn around, Spanish dancers touch the ground, Spanish dancers do a high kick, Spanish dancers jump out quick!
At that last word I feel the telltale tingling feeling, and my balls draw up and release my little soldiers into the captivity of my johnny. I fall back onto the rumpled bed, trying to catch my breath. It wasn’t even a long fuck, just a fuck with the sole purpose of releasing tension before bed. I lay here, eyes closed, enjoying the afterglow of blowing my load when two arms snake their way around my waist.
My eyes snap open. Fuck! I forgot I wasn’t flying solo tonight. I look over at my ‘co pilot’ and try not to cringe. Don’t get me wrong, she is pretty. With big blue eyes that have mascara smudging around them, heavy dark make-up that has been applied to perfection until I got my hands on her. Long straight brown hair that looks like a rat’s nest now, and swollen lips from sucking my dick.
That’s not why I’m cringing. I’m cringing because I can’t for love nor money remember her fucking name! She is one of our girls, but which one? Now when I say one of my girls, I don’t mean that I have hunners of girlfriends kicking about, for whenever the itch needs scratched.
I am joint owner of a brothel here in Glasgow called Chameleon. I own this with my lifelong best friend, Jack Blake. We call the ladies who work here under our protection ‘our girls’. This lassy has been ‘under’ me, but I don’t have a fucking scooby do what her name is. She’s new. Even that excuse to me sounds hollow as fuck. If I am going to give them the ‘D’, I can at least remember the person’s name. As she snuggles closer, getting comfortable, I feel my skin crawl at the intimacy. I must be related to Chandler Bing! I need to shut this down, and quickly.
“Listen Denise, you know the script. This is just a bit of fun, nothing more. If you want to snuggle, I suggest you get a teddy bear because I am not the one!” I say with certainty as I snap off the rubber, hoping I’ve got my point across. When she tenses beside me, I know I’ve made my point. Or I thought I had.
