Selling Out

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Selling Out Page 21

by Amber Lin


  He just shook his head.

  We reached the room, and I was disappointed that there seemed to be no special knock or secret code for entry. He just knocked and said, “It’s me,” and we were let inside. A flutter of nerves upset my stomach, which surprised me. Since when did I get nervous about meeting new people? Most guys were nervous to meet me, not the other way around. But these were Luke’s friends.

  And wow. I had expected other cops, ones who cared more about doing what was right than following the rules, like Luke. But these guys were faux military and street thugs.

  Luke introduced me to Jeff, who sported green-brown fatigues, a buzz cut, and a gold hoop through his ear. He smiled shyly.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. “I like your earring.”

  Jeff blushed a deep rose. “Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

  “Oh, and a southern accent. I bet the ladies line up to hear you speak.”

  “Naw.” He practically scuffed his thick black boots on the glass-tile floor.

  Luke drew me over to meet the next man, muttering under his breath, “No flirting.”

  The next guy was a local gang member, judging by both the tats down his neck and the red bandanna hanging from his pocket.

  “You can call me Rico,” he said. “Because that’s my name.”

  I met his fist bump with a smile. “It’s a pleasure.”

  “And that’s Major.” Luke nodded toward a guy in the corner.

  Major was dressed all in black, his square-set face impassive. He gave a brief wave, more like a salute.

  I wondered if Luke had given them some kind of warning about me. None of them let their gazes linger below my neck. At least Rico would know who I was—what I was. Probably all of them did, considering they were helping Luke with the situation, but there was no judgment in their gazes. Judgment usually came from the ladies, but there was none of the speculation, none of the wink-wink-nudge-nudge guys tended to do when they knew, as if they turned into adolescent virgins at the thought of paying for it. There were exceptions to this rule, but rarely zero out of three like this.

  The four men gathered around the glass coffee table. Even Major gave up his post in the corner, although he still drew a chair from the kitchenette, turning it backward and straddling it, distancing himself.

  They had confirmed the location and were discussing the best way to get there while avoiding detection. I stood aside, not pointedly excluded but clearly unhelpful to any tactical discussions. The unique cultural norms of Henri and the prostitution community at large—color me an anthropological expert. Breaking through a state-of-the-art security system, not so much.

  From my perch against the window, I considered the assembly. Were they from Luke’s past as a homeless kid? Or his present as a cop, maybe other informants? The two sides of Luke had seemed disparate when he first told me the story, as if he had been reborn as a different person. Slowly I had come to merge them in my mind, to see glimmers of his boyhood in the man. He was fiercely determined, unafraid—like a gutter dog. He was unflinchingly loyal, in a way inherent to street life. On the streets, you either ran pack or died. Luke was a survivor all the way.

  I only hoped that carried through to the mission, as the boys were fond of calling it.

  There was a basket of snacks and candy on top of the counter, a sort of high-trust minibar. Luke hadn’t eaten since we were at the cottage. He needed to keep up his strength if we were going over tonight. I prepared a tray of sodas and arranged snacks and carried it to the coffee table, as if this were fucking game night and I was the little lady.

  Luke and Major had their heads bent together over a laptop, murmuring quietly, but Jeff immediately reached for a cola with a quiet thanks.

  “Is there anything noncaffeinated?” Rico asked.

  Jeff flipped the top of his can. “Seriously?”

  “Unlike some people, I don’t need artificial additives to stay awake. Not when that adrenaline rush hits.”

  “I think there’s grapefruit juice,” I offered.

  Rico made a face.

  “I’ll look for something else.” I returned to the minifridge. “Sorry, but if it doesn’t have caffeine, it’s got alcohol. I’m guessing that counts as an artificial additive.”

  Rico trailed me to the counter, poking at the remaining items in the basket. “Ooh, think these are any good? Gourmet Dipping Pretzels.”

  Straightening, I shook my head. “They go stale fast, but hotels only replace them if someone eats them. Here, stick with a classic.” I handed him a Snickers bar. “High turnover rates and low cost-to-fullness ratio.”

  “Will do.”

  He reached for a glass on the counter and turned on the faucet. He must have caught something in my expression, because he paused.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  He looked from his half-full cup of tap water to me. “Now you have to tell me.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Don’t cheap out with the water. You don’t want to know about those cups.”

  He immediately set it on the counter but peered into it. “It looks clean.”

  “I have it on good authority that the rinse-and-wipe is often employed. And you do not want to know what liquids end up in there sometimes.”

  “What are you, some sort of hotel connoisseur?” he joked. His face fell as he realized what he’d just said. “I didn’t mean—”

  “No, it’s okay,” I said with a small smile. “That’s a new euphemism. I like it.”

  He seemed relieved. “I mean, it’s not as if I’m in a position to judge.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first.” I handed him a bottle of water from the fridge. “Paying a hooker doesn’t have quite the same stigma as being one.”

  “What did Luke tell you about me exactly?”

  I laughed, popping the top of my cola. “Not much. Just that you were helping him out with this. He didn’t tell me about your hooker-buying habits, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m just stereotyping.” The gang symbols, the old track marks on his arms, not that I had to spell it out. “Why, you telling me you’ve never been with one?”

  He was thoughtful for a minute. “No. I’m afraid I fit the profile in that particular regard.” Then, “You aren’t afraid to speak your mind.”

  My lips curved. “Is that an insult or a compliment?”

  “I prefer honesty to lies. Though I may not always like what you say.” Glancing back toward the men, his expression turned speculative. “So how long have you and Luke been…you know.”

  I blinked. “Working together?”

  “Doing the nasty.”

  “Oh. Umm…”

  It was his turn to laugh. “All right, straight talker. I guess that answers my question.”

  When he smiled, I realized how handsome he was. More than that, almost pretty. He had thick black lashes and a sensual mouth most girls would kill for. It was all covered up in the gang wear and a layer of grunge, making his skin oily and darkened. I frowned. Or was it just that black gunk Luke had used as a disguise? And if so, why would Rico dress up as a gang member? Maybe it was some sort of undercover operation, although I couldn’t imagine how it would work. Surely the gang members themselves wouldn’t be fooled by a disguise—they would know who was in and who was out. Still, he suddenly seemed too proper underneath all that mess, his teeth too white and his speech too cultured.

  “Are you a cop?” I asked.

  He stared at me for a second before laughing so loud the other guys looked over. He whooped for a minute before catching his breath. “She thinks I’m a cop.”

  Jeff turned to me, gesturing at Rico. “This clown?”

  I shrugged sheepishly. “It was just a thought.”

  “Come on, guys,” Luke said. “Back to work.”

  As the men settled in again, Luke sent me a half smile over the tops of their heads. Heat warmed my cheeks, though I couldn’t have said whether it was embarrassment over guessing wrong about Ric
o—we hookers had a certain professional detection, usually—or simply being a part of a group after so long. The only place I’d ever belonged was with Henri’s other girls, but I’d never felt comfortable with them. I did here, and that had everything to do with Luke.

  I listened on the sidelines as they discussed what would go down tonight. It was a simple plan, though it did involve a fair amount of walking. Or running, more likely. My high heels would be impossible. I checked my pocket. Yup, still had the few hundred in cash I’d slipped there last night before leaving for the club. We had passed a boutique in the lobby. They had mostly artsy clothes, but almost anything would be better than these heels.

  Luke caught me with my hand on the knob. “Where are you going?”

  I pointed to my shoes. “These aren’t exactly activewear.” I reconsidered. “Well, I suppose that depends on the activity. But it sounds like there’s going to be some full-fledged jogging, and these heels aren’t going to cut it. I’m going to check the gift shop to see if they have something better.”

  “Wait, she’s coming with us?” Rico asked, incredulous.

  I felt myself pout. I thought I’d made friends with that one.

  “No way,” Jeff said.

  Jerk. The gold earring should have been my first clue.

  Major frowned at Luke, waiting for his response. The room grew quiet, the men watchful. I waited along with them, unsure of my place. Luke had told me I could go, but his reluctant promise given when we were alone faded in front of the complicated planning and camaraderie of these men.

  “She’s coming,” Luke said.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Despite their earlier objections, both Rico and Jeff shrugged and turned back to their planning. Only Major’s eyes narrowed a bit, as if he might veto the decision. I wondered if he had that power. I tried to look innocuous. Shit, I had no idea how to seem innocuous.

  Luke slanted me a look. “Are you scared of him?”

  “Who?” I asked innocently.

  “Major.”

  “No, why, are you looking to do a three-way? Because I’m game for it, but you have to be in the middle. I’m allergic to all that brooding.”

  He shook his head, muttering to himself, “Why do I even ask?” Then to Major, “Take her downstairs.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Why is he taking me?”

  “Because you’re being hunted in this city, and he will make sure you don’t get shot in the head.”

  “Okay, fair point. But why can’t you take me?”

  “Because it would be distracting, and I’d probably end up having sex with you in a changing room.”

  I bit my lip. “I’m still waiting for the downside.”

  “Go.”

  Major brushed past us, muttering, “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Oh, this’ll be fun,” I said. But I followed Major out anyway, down the purple hallway and into the mirrored elevator. We quickly determined that unless I wanted an I Heart Chicago T-shirt or strappy sandals with bulbous gems pasted on them, the hotel boutique wasn’t going to cut it.

  I tried on a purple cowboy hat and posed. “How do I look?”

  His expression was flat. “Like a gay stripper.”

  “So…not that far off.”

  A woman brushed up against me as she left the store, and I recognized her from the hallway with Luke. She sent me a scathing look before leaving the store in a huff.

  “What’s her problem?” Major muttered.

  “She saw me with Luke earlier. She probably thinks I’m a hooker or something.” I snickered. She’d lose her shit if I told her it was true.

  “Well, she was totally checking you out.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling vindicated.

  We walked out onto the sidewalk—or rather, he strode while I hobbled on my heels, feet aching, struggling to keep up in the crowd. As bodyguards went, he left something to be desired.

  A block later found us in a runner’s shop. From the window we could see tennis shoes and workout clothes—perfect. We started to go inside but were blocked by runners exiting en masse. They took off like a swarm down the sidewalk in some sort of group-run activity.

  “Wow,” I said, watching them go.

  Major snorted. “Someone will probably twist their ankles on the sidewalk.”

  “You remind me of someone. Eeyore, that’s who.”

  He held the door open for me. “He speaks the truth.”

  “He’s a downer,” I said, brushing past.

  He joined me by the shoe wall. “If we were doing character profiles, you’d be Winnie-the-Pooh.”

  “You say that like it’s an insult. You do realize he’s the star of the show?”

  The shoe salesman waved to us. “Be just a minute.”

  “We’ll be waiting,” I said.

  The salesman blushed because, yeah, my voice had been low and suggestive. Professional hazard.

  Major spoke out the side of his mouth. “Winnie-the-Pooh is annoying. The other animals just let him get away with stuff because he’s cute. And kinda dumb.”

  “Oh, very subtle. How do you even know about him? You have kids or something?”

  He snorted. “No kids. Everyone knows Winnie-the-Pooh. He’s been around since the Great Depression.”

  “You would know,” I muttered, right before the salesman ran over to us. He literally ran. It seemed a little overenthusiastic, even for a running store.

  “Welcome to Ralph’s Running Mart,” he said breezily. “What kind of racing gear are you in the market for today?”

  Major glowered.

  I cleared my throat. “I think just ordinary tennis shoes for me.”

  “Oh, we don’t sell tennis shoes, ma’am. Our shoes are specifically designed with runners in mind.”

  “Get her some shoes,” Major growled.

  The poor guy seemed to be shrinking in on himself, though perhaps that was because Major seemed to be expanding, filling the space around us as if his annoyance were a balloon and the salesman kept blowing and blowing.

  I smiled brightly. “Don’t mind him. I’m looking for something simple. In fact, what’s your simplest shoe?”

  “Well,” the salesman said. “Before we can get to the shoe-selection process, we need to get your stats.”

  “I’m a size seven,” I said.

  “Actually, this will be far more accurate.”

  The salesman led us a few feet away to a machine in the corner. The large metal base had feet stickers where my feet should go, handles along the sides to hold on to, and a large monitor that took a variety of inputs about lifestyle, dietary choices, and workout habit. It looked like some sort of arcade dance game that had gotten drunk on wheatgrass. He patted the side.

  “Take off your socks and shoes and hop on. Don’t be shy.”

  “Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

  The salesman blinked as if no one had ever refused it before, which I found hard to believe.

  Major smiled. “Ready for me to handle it?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Within fifteen minutes, we were headed back to the hotel. I had already changed into my new clothes: size-seven cross-training sneakers, black yoga pants and matching top, and a black hoodie. I still had my money in the bottom of my shoe. Major had insisted on paying for the clothes, which I fought until he told me the money was Luke’s. So I let him do it but didn’t think too hard about what that meant. Luke wasn’t the type to think I owed him anything for the money. It was me who would feel beholden.

  “You realize we’re matching,” I told Major.

  He looked pained. “We’re not matching. I happen to be wearing black, as are you.”

  “Yeah, but we’re walking together. Everyone thinks we’re a couple.”

  “Well, we’re not,” he snapped. “You’re with Luke. You should act like it.”

  That shut me up. We walked the rest of the way in silence.

  I
n the elevator, he sighed. “I guess I went beyond Eeyore and straight to asshole.”

  Pretty much. His words had bothered me more than I wanted to admit. The problem wasn’t whether I was with Luke or not. I had no idea what it meant to be a couple. I didn’t know how to act any differently if we were. The surface problems like Henri’s and Luke’s jobs were conveniently keeping us apart, but the truth was, even without them, we wouldn’t work. I wasn’t built for a relationship. I only knew how to be the other woman.

  The elevator hovered to a stop. I shrugged, staring straight ahead and willing the doors to open.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just don’t want to see Luke hurt.”

  “So then keep him away from me.”

  His eyebrows rose a little. “Is that really what you want?”

  “That’s what you want. You and Rico and probably Jeff too. I’m not really a stuffed bear with cotton for brains. I know you guys don’t want me with him.”

  “We’re just worried about him. He deserves to have this go right. A real shot at happiness.”

  “Well, I can’t be his reward, okay? That’s too much pressure, and I’ll fuck it up anyway. I’m just a messed-up girl with nowhere else to go. So don’t put that on me, like I can save him or something.”

  The elevator door opened, and Luke stood there.

  “I was just coming down to check on you guys,” he said, his face blank. I couldn’t get a read on how much he’d heard, if anything.

  Major stalked past him. “Operation buy shit for your girlfriend is a success.”

  Luke turned back to me. “See, he got the girlfriend memo.”

  “Is he always so cheery?” I asked sourly.

  “Actually, yes,” Luke said, sounding thoughtful. “That last was downright playful. For him, anyway. I think you amused him.”

  “Oh, well, as long as the men are entertained, I suppose I have done my job.”

  He speared me with a dark look before turning to my clothes, his clinical gaze raking over my body. “These look nice. Comfortable.”

  “You’re wondering how my ass looks in these yoga pants, aren’t you?”

  “And praying there’s a God.”

  “I don’t know about God, but I’m feeling merciful.” I sashayed down the hall in front of him, letting him drink his fill.

 

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