“Of-fucking-course she hates the fucking Crew, Jason,” Danny spat. “Ya think a whore workin’ the streets for them is living a high life? Fuck no, man; do ya know how they treat their sex workers, man?”
Admittedly I didn’t. Realizing this, I looked down, ashamed.
“An’ don’t take this the wrong way, but ya jumped the gun thinkin’ I was worried ‘bout yer ass. Boy, if I thought—if any of us thought—that ya couldn’t cut it an’ hold yer own then ya wouldn’t be where ya’re, got me? But when the fuckin’ leader of the Crows starts trollipin’ around with one of the Crew’s whores they’re likely to put a bullet in ‘er just so’s they know ya ain’t gettin’ no free pussy off them. Hell, they’d do it jus’ knowin’ it’d piss ya off!”
I looked away, not proud of the fact that I was nearly crying. “So are you telling me to break it off?” I demanded, pissed off at Danny for actually making a point and pissed at myself for not considering it.
Danny sighed heavily and leaned his head back, thinking. “It’sa tough place ya gone an’ put yerself in,” he said, rubbing his chin. After a long, tense moment, he said, “Ya know… there was this frilly-collared fag by the name o’ Billy Shakes-a-spear—fruity fuck wrote all sorts of stage shows an’ whatnot. All basically porno and bloody, Jerry Springer-level drama bullshit. I’m sure ya’d just get a kick outta all of it.”
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “I’ve heard of William Shakespeare, Merc,” I informed him. “Get to the fucking point.”
“Point’s this:” he said, glaring at me, “that frilly fuckin’ fag scribbled a li’l ditty not unlike this situation ye’re in now. Couple o’ punk-fuck kids who thought they’d dodge around together even though their folks was basically wagin’ World War Three on one ‘nother.”
I stared, not up to trying to explain all that was wrong with what he’d just said.
“An’ they think that shit don’t matter none. Not to them. Why? ‘Cause—fuck all!—they were in love. Well guess what, Jason, shit didn’t work out fer him ‘n her, in the end. Big spoiler, I know, but this exact sort of shit got those kids dead! An’ this shit could very well get you dead too! It’ll almost certainly get her dead! So, sure, I’m happy that ya finally found a girl who helped turn yer tailspin around and helped ya pull outta that nose-dive ya was in, but why in the fuckin’ hell did ya have to go an’ do it with a Carrion whore?”
I frowned, losing it at the last part and struggled to stay standing. I didn’t like that Danny was right, I didn’t like that Mia and I were likely to fail from the start. I clenched my eyes shut, knowing the truth and still not wanting to end this; still not wanting to stop the feeling I’d had ever since meeting her.
Hell, just the possibility of it all was letting that familiar darkness thrive and grow back into being, just waiting to get strong enough to swallow me again.
And would I be able to make it out again if it did?
Not fucking likely.
“No,” I said. I said it more to the darkness—outright commanding it to stay back—but, when I saw that Danny had heard it and was assuming I’d been talking to him, I rolled with it. “I know all about Romeo and Juliet, Merc,” I said, nodding, “and I know that we’re taking a big risk. But I… I’m not going to let this go; I’m not going to let her go. She might be a whore, and she might work for the Crew, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. I need this, Danny… I need it to work.”
He watched me, his eyes moving around me, seeming to pick up each little nuance that had changed in me. Slowly, as he finished his scan, he sighed, his large body sagging with resignation. “Ah, hell, kid,” he groaned, nodding. “Alright. Okay. If this is what ya need then… then maybe ya can prove that story wrong, y’know? Really stick it to that Shakes-a-spear fag.”
I frowned, feeling ever worse at Danny’s sudden change in encouragement. I knew he was only doing it to try and help. I didn’t realize how open I’d become to Danny and a part of me screamed to hide it all. To pretend that nothing was wrong, to pretend that things weren’t pure chaos in my head.
“Aw’right,” Danny finally said after the silence had gone on too long for his liking. “Be safe, kid. And be sure to introduce me to ‘er soon as ya get the chance. I gotta give the final appraisal and make sure she’s got all the necessary warnings about dealin’ with a beast like ya.”
I rolled my eyes and looked away, hoping he didn’t notice my blush. “My confidence swells,” I said with a groan.
“I’m guessin’ that’s yer cock, boy. An’, speakin’ o’ which, make sure ye’re washin’ yerself. Whores face dirty dicks too much to be getting’ stink-nutted by men who are supposed to be lovin’ them.”
I sneered at his words, but nodded. “Noted.”
Danny nodded back, his face caught somewhere between pride and concern. Finally, he said, “Gotta say, if she’s got yer attention this bad, she must be one hell of a woman.”
“She really is,” I admitted, unable to keep myself from smiling. Despite this, I still found myself asking, “Do you think this is a bad idea? Really?”
Danny paused, thought, and then shrugged again. I noticed with some neutral intrigue that this was a very shrug-laden conversation when I’d been hoping for a more pat-on-the-back, “let’s pass out the cigars!”-sort of conversation. “Ye’re probably askin’ the wrong fag about what’s a good idea an’ what’s not. Honestly, I don’t believe in good ideas; in the world of ideas there’s shit and there’s decent. Most ideas are shit, plain an’ simple. Almost everything in life falls apart, breaks down, or decays—not much we can do ‘bout that—an’ most ideas function to slow or stop that. Can’t be done—makes ‘em shit ideas. Then there’s the decent ideas, the ones that say, ‘shit’s gonna go bad, so let’s try to make the most of it.’” He nodded to himself, sighed, and—you guessed it—shrugged at his own words. “So ye’re gonna go for it? Cool! I mean, I guess I ain’t gonna stop ya—likely no one’d be able to, anyway—an’ ya seem to be figurin’ the worst already, right? If yer already expectin’ to hit rock bottom than it’s not like yer gonna be disappointed, right? An’ who knows? Maybe y’all will find exactly what ya need with each other. After all, if ya don’t hit rock bottom then all ya gots left is flying.”
I smiled at that and nodded, appreciating Danny’s side on this. “Thanks, Mercury,” I said, almost wanting to hug him but not sure where that would take things between us. This, however, had less to do with his sexuality and more to do with the fact that I was supposed to be his boss.
Speaking of which…
“Don’t mention it,” he said, waving off my words dismissively before turning to another stack of crates. “Now, come on. We got business ‘ta deal with and I actually need your ass here for once to do it.”
“Well, I’ve got nothing better to do…” I laughed. Then, thinking once again about Mia and, yes, smiling from it, I added, “Yet.”
PART 4
Fucked
FOURTEEN
~MIA~
The day before had gone by so slow. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Jace, and it seemed it was effecting my performance for work. This, however, helped to play into Candy’s ongoing excuse for me, saying that I still wasn’t feeling well to one of T-Built’s lackeys in an effort to help me out, but she could only give me so many excuses. I honestly wasn’t sure if I was ever going to be “okay” again.
Jace had changed me.
I ran my hand across the bird pendant he had given me, letting my fingertips kiss the beak, and enjoyed the peacefulness that swept over me any time I touched it. I wondered what he had planned for tonight and I smiled absently as I replayed the events of our last meeting.
“Earth to Mia!” Candy clapped in my face to get my attention.
I blinked, startled, and looked up at her. “S-sorry,” I said, realizing I’d been spacing out. “You were saying?”
“Look, I think this romance is great and all—real storybook-like and all—bu
t you are still working for T-Built. At this rate, you’re going to wind up with your ass on the chopping block.”
“Isn’t that where it usually is in this job?” I asked, bitter.
Candy gave a “tough shit”-shrug and said, “Getting anally reamed a few times a night and takin’ a few backhands ain’t exactly the chopping. He will kill you, Mia.”
I bit my lip at that and looked over at her. “What do I do then?”
“For now? I guess enjoy yourself. I’ve done a pretty good job of advertising to T-Built’s jerkoffs that you went and got, like, the flu or something. Honestly it’s better not to have much spot-on details—not like we can see a doctor, so how the fuck would we know what you have, right?—and I’ve been telling them that I’ve basically quarantined you in your room and only let you out to work; that make-up and energy drinks are basically the only thing keeping you looking alive right now. It’s working for the most part; they’re either assuming that your dead or dying, so that you’re spacing out and being MIA ain’t setting up any red flags. But you got one… maybe two more excused nights before T-Built’s likely going to just say ‘fuck it,’ kick in the door, and kill your ass. We’re drawing nearer and nearer to the point of ‘produce a corpse or we’ll be making one,’ Mia, so… yeah. Enjoy yourself now, but after this you need to get your shit together—make some miraculous, ‘PRAISE JESUS’-level recovery and be back on that corner in super-slut mode. Now, your biker boy-toy has said that he’s willing to take you out during the day so that you can still be on the corner at night, so there’s no reason that this can’t work out. Between him understanding and accepting all of this and actually willing to work around the schedule there’s no reason I can think of that you can’t have this cake and eat it, too. Provided, of course, everyone—and by that I mean T-Built—is satisfied that all is how it should be.”
I flinched at that, not wanting to point out that that was hardly the way things should be.
“And don’t be making it obvious that you got some side-thing going on, kay?” Candy went on. “That pussy might as well have a Carrion Crew stamp on it. If T-Built could figure out a way to put a mile-counter—or, in this case, an inch-counter—inside of us to make sure there weren’t any dicks getting in without paying then I’m sure he would have by now. And, by the way, thank fuck that he can’t do that, ‘cause I’d wind up owing him a fortune for the miles-and-miles of use my pussy is taking courtesy of my little humming friend in the sock drawer.”
I frowned at that. “You actually have a desire to masturbate at the end of the night?” I asked.
“Watch that, girl,” Candy warned me. “I know that our jobs make sex a bit of a bore, sure—certainly make men a bore, I tell you—but, yeah, I still like to cum before I clock out each night. Getting off helps me sleep, and—fuck you—it still feels good. If a John could get the job done for me then maybe I wouldn’t need to, but…” she shrugged a “what’re you gonna do”-shrug. “But you do gotta watch that ‘not into it anymore’-attitude. There’s being desensitized and there’s being bored, but to resent the idea of pleasure? Girl, that’s depression.”
I actually laughed at that. “Is there any mystery at this point that I’m depressed?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nah. Why do you think I’m going through all this trouble to help you get out there with your biker boy?”
I blushed at that, realizing that she hadn’t been missing a beat about what’d been happening to me.
“So you enjoy yourself now. Maybe see if you can’t recapture an appreciation for an orgasm; lord knows your pussy’s earned some genuine loving after all the work it’s been putting in. But when you come back, don’t let your guard down, and whatever you do, don’t let T-Built or his lackeys see you for anything other than what they see you as,” Candy sighed. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but we’ve gotta do what we do to survive.”
I nodded, chewing my lip at the thought and sat down on the tattered sofa, looking around at our living room. Along with the sofa, we also had an old, stained love seat and an old flat-but-hardly-HD television. Compared to Jace’s place, ours really was a dump. I nearly groaned aloud at the thought, realizing that, after only one date, Jace and his lifestyle had swept me up into a fantasy mindset where I didn’t have to be a whore and I was allowed to have nice things.
Fantasy…
Well, I deserved a happy ending, right?
Didn’t I deserve a chance to actually have a good life?
Didn’t I?
I frowned, feeling a tear falling down my cheek before even realizing that I had been crying. I decidedly hated that I’d cried more this past week than I had in almost all my life. I hadn’t even cried this much when T-Built had first taken me and forced me into this life. I watched as Candy’s face grew soft and she stepped over, grabbing a box of tissues.
“Come on, Mia. It’ll be okay,” she spoke softly.
“Am I stupid to believe anything could come from this?” I whimpered.
“Not at all,” she said with a maternal smile, rubbing my shoulder. “Hell, Julia Roberts got it too, right? And if that horse-face can get it than any one of us have the same chance.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ve been thinking about that movie since this all began,” I admitted, “but I always thought Julia Roberts was pretty.”
Candy sneered and shook her head, muttering, “No accounting for a whore’s taste, I guess.”
And just like that we both were laughing hysterically.
There was no reason for the laughter, the joke wasn’t even that funny, yet we both had connected. The laugh felt great and as we worked to stifle the cackles, I could feel myself grow lighter, could feel myself relaxing. Finally, we both calmed down, catching our breath from the outbursts and I looked at her as the sound of Jace’s motorcycle came from out front.
“Your Prince Charming is here,” Candy smirked.
I blushed and nodded, starting to stand. “You want to come down and meet him,” I offered.
Candy shook her head. “Nah. One look at me and he’d leave your ass and carry me off into the sunset, and I wouldn’t want to put you through that.”
I stared at her. “You just don’t want to deal with a man right now, do you?”
“No,” she said flatly. “Quite frankly, if it owns a dick I’d sooner hit it with a hammer. I need me some dick-free hours every afternoon. Shit would be like a full-moon to a werewolf—turn me into a crazed dick-wolf. Then I’d go off, all snarly and crazed, and be ripping dicks of ballsacks off all the villagers and such.” She paused and then brightened. “Hey!” she cawed, “That’d make a great story for one of them books you’re always reading, wouldn’t it?”
I was laughing too hard to answer. Finally, regaining myself, I stood straight and outstretched my arms, asking, “How do I look?”
“Lovely,” Candy smiled. “Go have your perfect night and be ready to tell me everything. I’m going to need some decent sock-drawer lover fuel.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled, “Sure. Right. Thanks again for this, Candy.”
She waved me away and this time, I didn’t hesitate.
I moved to the door, leaving our crummy apartment, feeling with every step that my old self, the real Mia, was coming back. Stepping out, I saw that Jace leaned against the motorcycle, wearing a similar outfit that just clung to his body the way I wanted to. I blushed at the thought but then agreed that that was what I wanted. I didn’t want tonight to end with just a kiss and I hoped that Jace would feel the same.
As I walked the pathway down to the street, I could see Jace’s eyes on me. His gaze on me made me feel desired in a way I never was. It was possessive and the raw need thrumming from that stare called to me and I wanted to answer. As I finally made my way to his bike—was the sidewalk ever this long before?—I stood in front of him, offering him a smile.
“So, you gonna just stare?” I teased him, remembering his own taunt from the other day. “Not tha
t I mind, of course.”
He smirked and shook his head, “Hard not to stare. I… I missed you,” he confessed.
I looked up, feeling both elation and shock at the honesty in his words. He looked down at me, need flooding his gaze as he moved his hands to my shoulders. I allowed the touch, though a part of me worried that one of T-Built’s lackeys would be around, or, worse yet, T-Built himself. While he didn’t have a tendency to come around his “employees” homes, he wasn’t against showing up if he felt it was necessary.
“You okay?” he asked in a whisper, once again supporting my mind-reader theories and keying on my worry of being spied on.
“I-I am…” I said, looking back up to him, not wanting to ruin this moment. “I’m just…”
He paused then and looked around, then actually glanced up at one of the second floor windows. It didn’t belong to my and Candy’s apartment, but he would have had no way of knowing that. Moreover, I realized, he might not have thought it did. Then, nodding, he started towards his motorcycle, starting to reach into his pocket as he did.
“What are you…”
“Get on,” he said in a gruff, loud voice; practically ordering me. As he said it, he pulled out his wallet and yanked out a hundred dollar bill.
I felt like the air had gotten punched out of my chest at the sight.
“I said get on!” he growled, this time louder. But then he winked at me.
And suddenly it made sense.
If anybody was watching—whether it be T-Built or one of his lackeys—then what they’d see would be a man pulling up to Candy’s and my place, having me come out to him, and then paying me to ride off with him…
Supposedly to do whatever he wanted.
Just a whore picking up a little overtime, I thought, nodding obediently as part of the show and accepting the money like a scared dog before sliding onto the back of the motorcycle. I’ve been sick and falling behind and I’m just trying to prove to T-Built that I’m a good girl.
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