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.