Текст книги "Relinquish"

Автор книги: M. N. Forgy

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

EIGHT

CHARLIE

The overwhelming feeling of being warm wakes me. With my body sweaty and sticking to the sheets beneath me, I finally open my eyes.

“Fuck,” I whisper as the hotel room comes into focus. The night before rolls through my mind: Chasen and his friends and… Landon. I sigh at the thought of Landon then jerk my head up and look for him, but he’s not next to me. I sit up, noticing his clothes, on the floor the night before, are gone. Frowning, I climb off the bed. I scamper into the living area still naked, my feet padding against the floor echoing through the suite.  Nothing. He’s not here. I nibble my bottom lip, unsure what to do, when my eyes catch a note on the kitchen island.

You need this more than I do.

-L

Looking down, I find two stacks of cash, making me gasp in shock. An uncontrollable shame bubbles through my limbs, my lungs refusing the entry of air to the point I collapse on the floor.

Money. After sex. I shake my head, and tears pour off my cheeks onto the handwritten note. I bite my bottom lip angrily, my teeth nearly piercing the skin. I knew sleeping with him would be a bad idea, but I was too high on lust to care. A small piece of me, a small juvenile piece of me, thought maybe I could be wrong, and I would wake up to him displaying a full menu of breakfast items this morning because he didn’t know what I would want to eat.  I thought he realized how alone and misunderstood I felt, that he would be here this morning. I’ve never felt more alone than I do right now. The ache in my chest never burned with such emptiness before.

I run my hand under my nose, sniffling the uncontrollable snot back, and roll my eyes. A sudden laugh escapes my mouth. Those fairy tales might exist for some people, but not me. I’m meant to be alone.

“I was so stupid to think he would want anything to do with the likes of me,” I grit out loud. “Hell, he probably has a stuck-up wife back home, or at the very least dozens of girls throwing themselves at him.”

If the Lord ever tried to tell me anything before, it was never as clear as this. I get it; I’m a whore. Sex then money. I stand on wobbly legs, finding the money sitting perfectly.

“There must be a thousand dollars here,” I whisper, picking it up and thumbing the stacks. I don’t know whether to be pleased or disgusted by the amount. Hell, I basically just sold my virginity to him.

I laugh—an uncontrollable, belly-cramping laugh. I laugh at the fact that even though Landon slipped out, paying me for my pathetic way of life, I would do it all over again. The way my body, heart, and soul connected to him last night, the magnetism I had toward him, was so surreal. I shake my head. He’s right; I’ll never forget last night, never forget him.

“Asshole,” I exclaim, slapping the cash back on the counter. I’ve been looking out for myself since day one, and I’ve been fine.

Besides, I should be used to this feeling after the last twenty-four hours. I’ve grown accustomed to its ache deep in my chest. I slip my black dress on and notice small streaks of blood between my thighs.  “Shit,” I whisper.

Screw it,I’ll get a shower at home.  I don’t want to be in this fucking place any longer than I need to be. I sit on the leather couch and put my heels on, eyeing the money on the counter. I’d be stupid not to take it. Jayden and I need it desperately. It’ll pay rent and put food on the table.

I shove the stacks of cash down the cups of my dress. Fuck it, I earned it. Hell, I even bled for it.

Guilt strikes my chest as the cool cash sweeps between my breasts. The demeanor of staying strong and keeping my chin up faltering by the second. I fear I’ll never find my place in the world. I’ll always be second class, and treated like dirt. I thought Landon and I had something, a connection of some sort.  I’m afraid this is a wound that will turn into a dark scar, changing my view on my life.

I take the elevator to the main floor, and the lobby is huge. Brown and tan marbled floors make up the space, and a large glass dome ceiling looks over the entire lobby. I look down at myself and swallow nervously. I’m so out of place here.

Walking through the lobby, I hold my head down, my hair shielding my face. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I can see the staff look at me with a wary eye. I find women grabbing their men a little tighter, as if they’re threatened by me. I hurry my pace, trying to get away from the cynical glares. As soon as I reach the outside, I tilt my head back and inhale deeply. My chest heaves, taking in large gulps of fresh air.

I pull my shit together and start my walk of shame back home. Finally, after walking for what seems like forever, graffiti greets me at the last block, telling me I’m almost home. Strangely, I take odd comfort in the spray-painted buildings after the experience I just had. I know I belong here. That place Landon took me to was anything but inviting.

I turn the corner and find an ambulance and two cop cars parked close to my apartment. I watch as men shuffle in a green dumpster, pulling a woman with red hair out. She has nothing on but red heels and a short, black leather skirt. Her body is purplish with dark spots around her throat and legs, evidence that she’s been dead for hours.

I gasp and cover my mouth at the sight of her. I’ve never seen a dead person before.

“I warned her,” comes from behind me, making me jump and turn. A black woman with caramel-colored hair puffed out, stands behind me with her hands on her hips. She has on a skimpy gold dress that is way too short, with black ripped stockings up her thighs. Her makeup is heavy, and her red lips are bright.

“What?” I ask confused. The glitter on her chest blinding me, I hold my hand above my eyes to shield them.

“I warned her, you can’t work these streets without a pimp,” she explains, shaking her head. Her eyes trail from the scene of the dead woman to me, eyeing me from head to toe with an arched brow. “You should get a pimp.”

“What?” I give a weak laugh. Her face doesn’t show any humor, making my own fall. “I’m not—”

“Right, none of us are,” she interrupts, plucking a cigarette from the black purse slung over her chest. ”I’m just saying, you want to run these streets? You need protection, baby. You find yourself needing one, find Daddy Mick over at the Fever Hotel.” She inhales a large drag from her cigarette, her eyes trailing my chest. I look down at what she’s looking at and notice the cash trying to escape the top of my dress.

“Shit.” I roll my eyes and push it back in place.

“Mmhhmm,” she murmurs, her lips pursed. “I’m telling you, baby, it’s safer.” She walks away, puffing a cloud of cigarette smoke, her shiny heels clicking against the pavement as she sashays.

I glance back at the green dumpster, finding the crew closing up the girl in a black body bag. The sound of the zipper has goose bumps racing up my spine.

***

My body tenses as I walk down my street, images of Chasen and his buddies grabbing me ruthlessly triggering in my mind. What a bunch of assholes. The angry flashback slowly fades, leaving Landon and all his glory when he rescued me. A warm smile covers my face at the thought.

Looking at my apartment, I find our landlord Henry out smoking a cigarette, watching the cops load the dead woman’s body in the ambulance. I stop. My first reaction is to run in the other direction, but then I remember I actually have money to catch us up on our rent. His eyes light up as I grab some cash from my chest.

“Don’t worry. I got the money.” I smile.

“Your girl already paid,” he remarks, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“What?” I question in disbelief, but he just flicks his cigarette and walks inside, ignoring me.

What the hell? How did Jayden get money to pay our rent? I huff and hurry up the steps.

Seconds after I enter the apartment, Jayden shows up.

“Holy shit! You look like, well, shit,” Jayden insults while walking in the door.

“Gee, thanks,” I huff. I glance at myself in the cracked bathroom mirror and agree. I do look like shit. My makeup is smeared, and my hair looks like I was just fucked seven shades from Sunday. I kind of was. I sigh and throw Jayden’s heels over in her area before heading to my side.

“How did you manage to pay our rent?” I ask, sitting down on the bed.

Jayden shrugs. “I have my ways,” she remarks.

I growl, sick of that answer. She used it with the ID.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She turns, her eyes angry. “I said don’t worry about it. I don’t need your judgment. I get things we need using what I have to my advantage. I survive,” she mutters the last part, pointing at her sweaty chest with determination.

“You use what to your—” I pause as she throws her hands out to her sides, showcasing herself. Her body.

“You mean you sleep with men?” I frown and bite my inner cheek at the thought of her sleeping around to pay our rent. The feeling of guilt riddles up my spine. I should have taken better care of her , tried harder to get a job.

I open my glossy eyes and find a confident Jayden, waiting for my reply with her hands on her hips. I tilt my head to the side, curious how she’s so sure of herself and the way she goes about it. I sold myself to Chasen. I just sold my virginity to Landon, and I feel so shameful I can’t even look at myself.

I don’t see my life getting any better than this. I have no job. I got a shitty education, and no man is committing himself to me. I’m white trash, and that’s all I will have in my future. My life has never been smooth sailing. I’m programmed for only the worst things the world has to offer. It makes me question who the hell my mother was, and the karma she left in her trail. I guess I can’t ever say she never gave me anything.

“Like I said, Charlie, I don’t need your judgment,” Jayden snaps, catching me from my thoughts. I sigh and shove my hands down my chest, pulling out the stacks of cash, revealing my own sins.

“What the fuck is that?” Jayden exclaims, rushing to my bed.

I shake my head, eyeing the money and laughing nervously. “I used what I have to my advantage.” Jayden’s eyes shoot to mine in knowing before she falls back on my bed in a fitful of laughter.

“It’s not funny, Jayden,” I respond seriously, slapping her leg to get her attention. “I feel…” I stop short, closing my eyes.

The bed dips when Jayden sits up, and her hand rubs my back.  “Don’t feel ashamed, Charlie,” she comforts, her tone soothing.

“But I do. I feel disgusting. I—” I pause. “I feel cheap, and I feel used.”

Jayden grabs my face harshly, making me look her in the eyes. “Charlie, we need money to survive. We have no food, and the landlord is itching to kick us out. We can’t get jobs. We are fucked. We do what we need to so we can live. Don’t feel ashamed of yourself for living,” she justifies, her soft tone gone. “It gets easier, I promise.”

I pull my head from her grip, looking at the new sheets I bought from the extra money Chasen gave me. The feeling of being worthless is ruthless, a pain riddling in my gut that’s shameful. But all the things I have from it… clothes, a phone, food, even our rent is caught up.

“I can’t lie. Having the money after something that seems so insignificant such as sex—”

“It’s nice, right?” Jayden laughs. “I always find the hottest guys. It’s like a challenge, ya know?” I raise a brow at her goals in life. “They usually pay the most, surprisingly.”

“How long have you done this?” I ask, my eyebrows narrowed.

Jayden shrugs, picking the fray of her shorts.  “Whenever I needed to,” she responds, like she’s talking about coloring her hair. I shake my head and look at the counter of food. It’s disappearing quickly.

“Did you see that woman they were pulling out of the trash?” I question, changing the subject.

Jayden closes her eyes and runs her hand through her crazy hair.  “I did,” she replies grimly.

“She was a prostitute,” I point out.

“Gah, I hate that word,” Jayden growls, shaking her head.

I shrug. “It is what it is, Jayden; no need to sugarcoat it.” I look up at her, my jaw clenched. “I’m a whore. A prostitute. I sleep with men and get paid for it,” I whisper. Finally voicing the truth of what I am, what I’m destined for hurts, but not as bad as it should. I know I should try again at finding a job. But I know I won’t, I can’t. Jayden and I are on the run, and my resources are limited. Screwing men for money puts food on the table and keeps us off the radar.

“I prefer ‘escort’,” Jayden huffs, leaning back on my bed.

“Some woman told me if I was going to work the streets, I needed protection. She told me I should go to a motel and ask for a guy name Mick,” I inform her, fidgeting with the money on the bed. If Jayden is going to do this, I’d rather her not do it behind my back and get hurt in the process. I’d rather her be safe, that we were both safe. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her. She’s the only family I have.

“You mean a pimp?” Jayden shifts so she can face me, her forehead wrinkled in questioning.

“I mean, I guess that’s what it is. I know I was almost raped by Chasen and his buddies last night. They were rough and angry with me. So having protection doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” I whisper the last part.

“Fuck, Charlie, are you okay?” Jayden shoots up on the bed, her face wide with fear.

“Yeah, Landon saved me,” I mutter, a smile creeping on my face from the memory.

“Landon? Sounds like a rich guy’s name. Is that where that money came from?” She points at the stacks on the bed. “I knew Chasen had money, but this”—she jerks her chin at the pile—“would be more than Mommy and Daddy’s allowance, for sure.”

I nod, looking the money over.

“It was from Landon,” I confirm.

“Damn, what the hell you do to earn all that?” She chuckles.

I stand, flexing my sore body. “I gave him my virginity,” I respond seriously.  I look over my shoulder, finding a wide-eyed Jayden, mouth parted.

“Holy shit,” she mumbles, looking back at the money. “I didn’t know you were a virgin. Are you going to see him again?”

I trail the pad of my forefinger over my bottom lip. Images of Landon in ecstasy come to mind, and my body aches for him once again.

“I doubt it,” I whisper.

“You—” Jayden pauses, pointing a finger at me. I snap from memory lane, my eyes wide as I stare at Jayden’s accusing finger.

“I know that look in your eye, and let me give you a very viable piece of information, if you are indeed going to sleep with men for money. This game, there’s no room for feelings or emotion. Get that through your head now,” she scolds, her tone serious.

I sigh and head toward the shower.

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again anyway, so it won’t be a problem.” I peer up from under my thick lashes, finding Jayden watching me intently. “The way our bodies connected, like we had known each other for so long… I can’t explain that feeling.”

“Charlie, don’t do this to your—”

“It doesn’t matter. He left me with a stack of cash, and some stupid fucking note and without as much as a goodbye. He built a wall of ruthless reality that nobody could bring down,” I interrupt.

“And what reality is that?” Jayden tilts her head to the side.

“This is as good as it gets for me,” I respond softly, glancing around our apartment. Lost in my own torment, I didn’t even realize Jayden moved from her spot toward me until I feel both of her hands grasp mine in comfort. I look down at our joined palms then up at Jayden.

“We can go check this Mick guy out, and if you don’t like it,” she pauses and shifts on her feet, “we’ll figure something out.” She gives my hand a light squeeze. “It’s up to us to climb our way to the top, Charlie, and thanks to our parents and the failed system of family services, it won’t be in a respectful way.”

I nod, knowing exactly what she means, but I want to wait until we have no other option. Which won’t be long.

“Just let me think about it.”

NINE

CHARLIE

Two Weeks Later

“Okay, you distract him with…” Jayden pauses, looking at my chest.

“My tits,” I finish her sentence, laughing.

“Yeah, push them out your top some.” She reaches forward and grabs my boobs, pushing them upward in my black ripped shirt hanging off my shoulder.

“That did nothing.” She bites her lips, still pressing on me. I roll my eyes and place my hands on my hips as she manhandles my small tits.

“I think I could have managed pushing my own boobs up.” I laugh.

“Then do it,” she huffs, taking her palms off me.

I shrug. “It won’t work. I don’t have the massive boobs you need to create cleavage.”

“Okay, I’ll do the distracting.” Jayden pulls her white tank top down and presses her breasts upward.  I’d rather do the stealing anyway. I haven’t seen how good Jayden is at stealing, and the last thing we need is to get caught.

“Damn, why don’t you push them up a hint more, give him a nipple shot,” I tease, flicking her tit.

“Ouch, ho!” Jayden hisses, grabbing her boob.

“This calls for desperate times. Rent’s due next week along with utility bills, and we need food with what’s left over. So I’ll distract and you steal the booze,” she instructs, making me laugh. Not being able to afford booze is not a desperate situation, but I could use a drink, that’s for sure.

I nod, knowing the plan. It’s not my first time stealing, after all. I’ve stolen food from markets, clothes for the winter, and I’ve also been caught before, so I know what not to do, as well.

Jayden walks in and heads right to the counter where the store clerk stands, looking at a magazine. I sneak toward the back of the store where a sign reads ‘liquor’. I quietly open the door to the cooler and grab a twelve-pack of beer. My heart hammers against my chest with excitement, the idea I could get caught a high.

“Oh, my God, is that a real tattoo?” Jayden flirts, her voice echoing through the store.

I grab the beer and try to shove it down my shirt. After failing miserably, I head toward the exit quickly, turning my back toward Jayden and the short store clerk when I pass. I spot a package of pink snowball cakes and grab one on my way out.

I step across the street and wait for Jayden to leave the store. As soon as she walks out, she spots me leaning against the wall and runs toward me with a huge grin.

“Run! Go!” she squeals. I hold my hands against my chest to keep the beer from slipping out and sprint.

I laugh so hard I can barely keep up. I trip over my feet and nearly wipe out from giggling so hard. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard it hurt.

I stop two blocks away to catch my breath.

“Did you get it?” Jayden huffs, out of breath. I glare at her mock-offense. Growing up in care, stealing is second-nature. You do it to live. Sometimes you steal for fun, but not often.

“Yes, I got it.” I’m not sure how she missed it with them sticking halfway out of my top. I pull the beer out from under my shirt and hand it to her. “I got these, too.” I toss over the cakes, and her eyes light up.

“Fuck yeah!” she praises. “Let’s get drunk and plan our future, Charlie.” Jayden turns, walking down our block.

“About the pimp?” I question, still out of breath.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to.” She looks at me, squinting from the sun.

“What do you think we should do?” I prod, finally catching my breath. I can actually say this is the one time I’m not sure what I want to do.

“I think we should do it. Making some money and not having to worry about paying rent and where our next meal comes from doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. To be honest, I’m sick of mac and cheese, and ramen noodles.” She laughs.

“I’m sick of it, too. Eating cheap can food and noodles is only tolerable for so long. I can’t get a job, and giving sexual favors isn’t the worst,” I respond. If I could just get my heart to wrap around the idea of it, I would be okay. My soul is telling me I’m selling myself short, but my mind is telling me it’s easy fucking money.

I sigh. In the realm of things, it’ll keep us safe. It’ll keep Jayden safe.

“Let’s check it out. Let the motel and this Mick guy do the selling, see what he has to offer,” I finally agree.

“Sounds like a plan.” She rips a beer can from the plastic, handing me the rest as she digs in her pocket.

“What are you doing?” I ask, confused.

“Shot-gunning it,” she responds, pulling out a pocket knife.

“What the hell is that?”

“What, the knife?” She holds it palm up, revealing the small blade.

“That, and what the hell is shot-gunning it?” I clarify.

“I grabbed the knife from the counter when the clerk wasn’t looking, and shot-gunning is when you stab the end of a beer can, take a few big gulps, then open the tab at the top,” she instructs. I guess she can steal.

“And that does… what?” I laugh, not sure what the point is.

“Makes the liquid rush out so you can drink it faster. Get drunk quicker.” She shrugs.

I snort in response and pull a beer can from the plastic. I watch Jayden stab the end of her can and suck from the cut, beer dribbling down her face as she hands the knife to me. I grip the can and repeat her actions. Instantly, beer sprays me in the face, making me squeal and Jayden laugh.

“Hurry, drink it!” Jayden hollers around her own beer. I quickly place the can to my lips and drink. Cold beer slips from my mouth and spills down my chest.

“Okay, now open the top.” Jayden giggles, finishing her own. I use my other hand to search for the tab then open it. The action makes the liquid rush into my mouth so fast I can barely keep up.

I drink it all and squeeze the can like a man would. This is what I missed out on growing up. Just having fun, and being dumb with friends. This moment may seem stupid to some, maybe even childish, but it’s a memory with Jayden I won’t forget.

“Wow.” I wipe my face with my arm. “Who taught you how to do that?”

Jayden shrugs. “I saw my dad and his buddies do it all the time.” I nod, not sure what to say. Sounds like her dad partied a lot around her when she was a kid.

“Come on, ho, let’s do another,” Jayden suggests, pulling another beer free.

I can’t help but smirk. “Let’s go inside so we don’t cause any unwanted attention first.” I point toward our apartment.

“Sounds like a plan,” Jayden sings, turning to walk up our steps.

***

Jayden and I walk to the Fever Motel, located just a few blocks away from where we live.  I stare at the run-down building from the sidewalk, and my face immediately twists with distaste. There looks to be about twenty rooms in total, ten upstairs and ten down. The paint is this god-awful blue with all the doors painted an off-white. Right in the center of the old roof is a sign reading Fever Motel.

“You should breathe, Charlie. Your face is turning purple,” Jayden remarks, looking me over.

I exhale, releasing a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I have this feeling in my gut, that last morsel of self-respect telling me I should turn and walk away. That I can keep trying to get a job, even though I know deep-down that won’t ever happen.

“This place—”

“This place is going to keep us safe, remember? And it’s going to make us money,” Jayden interrupts, reminding me why this is so important: protection.

“Right,” I mumble, blowing out a steady breath.

“Charlie, we’re just asking questions today. Getting information on how all this works. We are not committing to anything.” Jayden sighs, tucking a hair behind my ear.

“You and I both know there’s nothing better out there for us. At least here we’ll be safe.” I give a tight-lipped smile. I look back at the motel, and a shiver runs up my spine as the sign’s lights flicker on.

I peer out from under my lashes, glancing at Jayden who’s looking the place over with a worried expression.

“I’m not going to lie. I’m scared.” I breathe heavily, although I’ve had time to cope with the idea of sleeping with men for money. Having the hunger pains in my stomach, and the fear of being kicked out onto the streets next month, it makes your mind adapt to the unfair tactics of survival. No matter how devious it is.

“I’m just as scared as you are,” she admits. “But next month the rent is up, and then what? The guys I slept with before, they aren’t repeat customers. They’re going home for the summer and things are going to get difficult, even more than they are now. Not to mention more dangerous the more we mess around on these streets.”

The glimpse of the dead girl flares behind my eyes. I nod and straighten my back. “Right. We can do this,” I say with more confidence than I’m feeling.

“You showed up,” sounds behind us, causing Jayden and I to jump.

The lady I saw the other day stands with her hands on her hips, a confident smile plastered across her face. Her dark skin is glistening with sweat, causing her white dress to go sheer, revealing her bare breasts and dark-colored thong beneath it.

“Name’s Margo. I gotta say, I didn’t think you would show,” she remarks, digging in her black shiny purse.

“Why is that? Is there a reason why she shouldn’t show up?” Jayden asks, looking at me warily from the corner of her eyes.

Margo places a cigarette in her mouth and lights it, blowing a cloud of smoke into the hot air before answering.

“Most girls are stupid. They think they know the streets because they can open their legs well. That doesn’t mean you have a hint of an idea of what kind of men walk on these streets.” She scratches her big hair and smiles, pointing at us with her cigarette. “But I can tell. Yeah, I can tell you girls are street-smart. Mick is gonna love you.” She takes a drag of her cigarette, shifting on her ridiculous high heels.

“Why would—”

“Follow me,” Margo interrupts Jayden who shakes her head in anger, crossing her arms before following Margo toward the shitty motel.

Walking through the door labeled Management, I’m greeted with the smell of lemon air freshener and stale cigar smoke. A white man sits behind a desk with his head down, messing with a cigar when we walk in. His head is shaved, a big diamond earring in one earlobe. Two men stand behind him with their arms crossed, both wearing black shirts with jeans, a big gold chain hanging from each of their necks. They’re tall and built with short, light-colored hair, and they have tattoos painting their arms and neck. Basically, they look scary as fuck.

I expected a more stereotypical pimp. One who wears a purple suit and a top hat, maybe. A gold cane, with gold teeth. Not some guy who looks like an outlaw, like any passerby in Vegas.

“Margo!” the guy I presume is Mick chimes, dropping the cigar on the desk and leaning back in his ripped leather chair. His face is round, his eyebrows thick and dark. He’s wearing a white suit with a black tie and looks menacing as hell. One brow stays arched, and his eyes hold a permanent glare as he stares at me. My pulse begins to throb in my temples with the unease.

“Who are your friends, baby?” he questions, nodding toward Jayden and me.

“Potential bitches,” Margo remarks, plopping down on a couch in the corner. I scowl at her calling Jayden and me ‘bitches’. She doesn’t even know us.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, rubbing his chin and giving us a once-over.

“I’m sorry, but I ain’t no bitch,” Jayden sneers, shaking her head.

“It ain’t personal, baby. It’s just easier than saying Margo, Jewel, Angel. It’s how we do.” He glances down with arrogance and shrugs.

“Umm,” I interrupt. “Can’t you just call them girls, women, or even employees?”

Mick looks up and nods slowly, his lip curling with a hint of a smirk.

“Looks like we got a smart one on our hands,” he snarls.

“Yeah, but is she street-smart?” Margo pipes up, squinting as she looks me up and down.

“Seriously? I’ve lived—”

Mick holds his hand up, stopping me. “I get it, you have the most tragic back story ever.” He glares at me then Jayden, rubbing his hand over his bald head.

“Join the club, baby,” Margo mutters, shifting on the couch.

“You don’t even know me!” I snap, my voice laced with venom.

“You’re right, and I don’t want to get to know you,” Mick snaps, and I exhale an angry breath. It seems no matter what I say, it’s not right.

“But, if I had to guess, you’re here for an entirely different reason than she is,” he clips, pointing to Jayden.  I look beside me, my eyes catching hers.

“You’re apprehensive about being here, and your friend isn’t. At least, not as much as you are, anyway,” Mick points out.

I swallow and try to stiffen my spine. I am worried, but I don’t want to let on I’m more worried than Jayden. I want to be strong for her.

“That’s where you’re wrong. It was her idea to come here,” Jayden speaks up, her hand grabbing mine in support as she looks at me with care. Her simple gesture in grabbing my hand and standing up for me shows she has my back no matter what. I love her for that.

“Is that right?” Mick sneers, giving a small chuckle. “Either way, I could use some new girls,” he mutters, sitting up and interlocking his fingers, resting them on his desk. The way he says new makes me flinch. He didn’t say more girls, he said new. Are the other girls worn out? Did they leave? Are they dead? It’s unnerving.

“What’s your names?”

“My name is Jay-”

“Stop!” he roars, causing me to jump.

“I don’t want to know your real name, nor does any trick you’re fucking. What is your street handle?” His tone leans on the side of irritated as he lifts his chin, waiting for our replies.

“Umm,” Jayden stutters.

“Fancy. My name is Fancy,” I go first, giving Jayden a second to come up with something.

“Hmm, Fancy. Don’t think we’ve had a girl named Fancy before,” Mick says, smiling.

“We haven’t,” Margo adds.

“And you?” Mick points at Jayden.

“Rarity,” Jayden informs, her back straight with confidence as she answers.

“Don’t think we’ve had one of those, either,” Margo states, stuffing tissues under her arm pits. How classy.

“All right, this is what we’ll do. Margo will show you the ropes.” He points at Jayden. “She’ll teach you how to work the corner, Rarity. And you, Fancy, will work the motel.”

“How much do we get?” Jayden butts in.

He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, looking her over. “I get it all. In return, I will pay your rent, and make sure you have food in your fridge—”