“Because, you don’t hear many people say that.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe it’s only us girls on the stroll that talk that way.”
I try to let go of the fact that Rose says the same thing. Coincidences happen all the time. “Well, I’m sorry to ask you to leave, but my girl is waiting for me and I have to lock up the office.”
“Oh, of course, sorry. Thanks again.” She gives me a hug. I pull the door shut behind us. I look around and notice Rose isn’t anywhere to be found. I head to the front door, Crystal close behind. Scanning the entire laundromat, I can’t believe she just left.
“Where are you, Rose? Where did you go?” I say unconsciously, almost under my breath.
Crystal clears her throat, catching my attention. “Your girl’s name is Rose?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow, wouldn’t that be a trip if my Rose and your Rose were the same person?” she says in an amused manner.
I’m not amused.
“No, it wouldn’t be a trip.”
I start to think about Rose and how impossible it has to be with what she does for a living and going to school. Doubt is such a motherfucker.
“Well, my Rose hasn’t had the easiest life, fucked up parents, those Newtons.”
I do a double take looking at Crystal. Did I just hear her right? There is no fucking way we’re talking about the same Rose.
“What is her last name?” My question comes out harshly.
“Newton. Rose Newton. Why?”
My flesh ripples cold before the air rips and burns across my skin. Heat sears through every cell of my body. I feel sick, the bile in my stomach flicks at my urge to throw up. How long? When did she start? Why would she? A barrage of questions floods my mind.
“I guess by the look on your face, we’re talking about the same girl. Long black hair, gorgeous green eyes, warm-toned skin?”
I’m completely devastated and pissed. I don’t even give her a response. I push out the front door and hustle out of the laundromat. The only thing I hear is Crystal shouting words I could give two flying fucks about.
“Don’t tell her I told you.”
My body and mind swirl with the idea that there are other motherfucking men touching her. She’s letting them fu—. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut, pissing blood and bleeding out. What. The. Fuck?
I push those memories from my mind, work hard to let them go. It's pretty painful to say the least. I collect my tool belt and head out to the front porch. When I get in my head too much, I find work that keeps my hands busy and my mind off of her. Today, I’m struggling to keep my mind busy, I can’t stop thinking about those last couple of days, no matter what I do.
I keep trying to call Rose, find out her side of the story. Two days and nothing. I’m not leaving a voicemail, not about this. I need to hear it from her mouth. I need to know the truth. No more fucking lies. I start to call Rose for the umpteenth time when my phone buzzes with a call from Martie.
“Hello?” I answer.
Martie’s voice is calm but I can hear the hurry pushing her words. “Shane! Listen, I don't have much time. I’m on my way to SF General. I guess my sister finally met her fate with her lifestyle and her pimp beat the shit out of her and her piece of shit, hooker roommate.”
“Wait, what?”
“Shane, I just told you I don’t have a lot of time. The hospital is asking for my sister’s ID, you know, identification. Anyway, I’m almost here and it’s too much to track back. Since you’re probably at the laundromat, and it’s literally a couple of blocks from her apartment, would you swing by and get it? I already called the manager and he said he’d let you in. I need you here with me, Shane. Hurry.”
I don’t hesitate to do it. Even though I’ve already told her a while ago we were done, and we weren’t seeing each other anymore, I wasn’t going to be a prick. She texts me the address and I recognize that it’s only a handful of blocks away from my laundromat.