by Naomi West
She’s going to pay with her mouth.
With her hands.
With those pretty little legs.
She’s going to pay, over and over again, until I’m satisfied.
Chapter One
Ivy
“For the last time, Ms. Simmons,” a steady, slightly impatient voice said from the other side of the phone line. “As much as I would like to help you, there is nothing we can do. Legally, anyway.”
At least the man on the other side of the phone had the decency to sound sorry. His voice reminded me of a generic cartoon villain; I could just image him twisting his evil, Snidely Whiplash mustache and thinking about all of the illegal ways I could get my life back. Ways that I couldn’t stomach. “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Fletcher. I won’t bother you again.”
Settling the payphone back in its cradle, I glanced up at the faded billboard on Fifth Avenue and Bogardy Street. “Sigmund F. Fletcher, Attorney at Law. If I can’t help you, no one can!”
True enough. He was the last person in the world to call. And that was my last quarter. Looks like the only person that will be looking out for me will be me. Again. As sad as I was about this whole situation with Janice, I couldn’t stomach the thought of hiring some goon to take out her kneecaps. If only I had been smarter. If only I had asked someone’s advice who was smarter than me. If only, if only, if only.
So that was that. My business that I had worked for years to build, every penny I’d saved since I was a kid, and my source of income, gone. Just gone, like that. A feeling like a big, gaping hole spread through my chest. There was nothing left to do.
Sighing, I pulled my gray hoodie over my hair and stepped out of the phone booth into the rain. The city here was dingy and brown, filled with the mud that flowed down from the nicer parts of town. Funny to imagine that just a few months ago, I was looking for a new apartment up that way. I wanted something overlooking the city. From high enough up, even this dirt stain of a broken, pockmarked road looked kind of pretty. From up there, the city looked like an organized grid of picture-perfect little shops. It hid all of the glaring imperfections and shivering bodies sleeping on the street.
At least I’m not homeless yet. I shivered at the thought, staring up into the drizzle to try and glimpse the sky. But it was covered with a thick blanket of cold, gray clouds.
“Clouds are God’s way of telling us he’s too tired for more prayers.” I could remember my father saying it, as he looked up into the rain. “He uses the clouds to muffle some of the noise from down here. Sometimes God needs a break, too, you know.”
I sighed, my breath puffing in the cold air. Big problem with that, old man. God is dead if he ever was around. And even if he was around, he wouldn’t have time for people like me. I was almost instantly soaked, so I didn’t bother rushing back to the hole I called home. It wouldn’t matter how fast I ran, I would be soaked without an umbrella. Even though the payphone was across the street, I was dripping onto the mangy, outdoor carpet by the time I made my way up the three levels of leaky, creaking stairs to my motel room. I counted the uneven steps as I ascended to my floor, hoping to drown out the sound of my own thoughts.
Step nineteen, step twenty. Start over. I was going to have to start all over. From nothing, like I did when I was thirteen. Step twenty seven. Twenty eight. I had not a dime to my name, nothing saved but a couple of sets of clothes and some pots and pans.
Crying, screaming, or throwing a tantrum wouldn’t save me from my fate, so I sulked instead, feeling the bile of disappointment and overwhelming shame pour over me. How could I have been so stupid?
Pushing those thoughts aside, I pushed passed the dripping, spoiled bags of trash in the hallway to get to my room on the end of the row. It was thankfully quiet on the end unit, mostly. No one dared come down to my end of the hallway. It was my neighbor; he was the scariest thing I’d ever seen before. I was really, really hoping that I wouldn’t run into him. I wasn’t sure my nerves could take it after the day I had.
As I rounded the corner on the rickety balcony that connected my apartment to the street, I groaned out loud. Josh, the scary neighbor’s little nine-year-old brat, was sitting outside of the rented room, his torn and dirty little shoes banging together. He looked up as I walked towards him, then he got to his feet.
“Hey, next-door neighbor lady. Can I hang out with you?” he asked, his chocolate eyes too big and pleading in his adorable little face.
I took a deep breath to calm my desire to lash out at him. Screaming at a little kid might help me to feel like I’d gotten some power back in my worthless life, but I would feel like crap about it later. So instead, I smiled with exaggerated sadness at him. “Sorry, Kiddo. I can’t. I have to be at work in a few minutes. What’s your name again?”
“Josh,” the kid answered, his eyes locked with mine. Although he was wiggling around again, his feet tapping annoyingly on the disgusting carpet, he was looking at me with a hint of squint to his little brown eyes. He was an adorable kid under all of the abuse and dirt. I had a feeling he fell somewhere on the spectrum or had ADHD or something the way he danced around. It made him crazy, whatever it was, but he seemed like a regular, kid. Well, as regular as a neglected kid with a behavioral disease could be, I supposed.
And I knew a lot about regular neglected kids with behavioral problems. Going through the foster system did that to you.
I smiled down at him, trying to keep my face calm. He didn’t need to know about my inner drama. “Alright then, Josh. Shouldn’t you be in school?”
The kid wrinkled his adorable little nose at me. “Fuck school; everyone sucks there.”
Sighing, I rubbed my temples with my fingers. “Alright, Josh. I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but I’m going to help you get into your dad’s house, okay? Is he not home?”
Josh shook his head, making his slightly uneven bowl cut fly around his face like a wet dog trying to shake off the water.
I sighed. I was going to get in so much trouble for this… “Okay, well, I’m going to go get dressed for work, then I’ll be right back out with you.”
The kid nodded, then sat back down on the nasty carpet, banging his feet together again as I unlocked the door to my room and stepped in.
It wasn’t much; it fact, it was less than much. It was less than I’d ever had, even when I was being fostered by the worst of my so-called “parents.” It was a pile of rags on top of nasty carpet. Dead bugs infested the corners no matter how hard I worked to keep the place clean. One of the window panes was broken, replaced with a piece of wood. I’d had to take a Sharpie to the wood when I’d first moved in to cover the doodles of genitalia scribbled there by the last tenant, so it was now a rich, solid black.
I quickly changed into my uniform, put on some makeup, and put my wet hair up into some semblance of a bun. Then I got out the waterproof “shawl” I’d made out of a plastic garbage bag to keep my hair and makeup in place when it was raining and I had to walk to work. Which was often.
Once I was ready, I took a deep breath, then headed out into the hallway again. Josh scrambled to his feet, a big grin on his face. He looked pleasantly surprised. “That didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I thought girls were supposed to take forever.”
I grinned at him, my stupid soft spot for kids in vulnerable situations lighting up in my chest. “I hurried the schedule along for you, Josh.” The kid grinned bigger in response, so I held out my hand, trying not to wince as his dirty, sticky fingers took a hold of mine. “Now, let’s ask the office to make you an extra key so you don’t have to sit outside your dad’s place anymore, okay?”
“Thanks for being nice to me, lady,” Josh said finally, his voice small and hopeless sounding. My heart cracked a little down the middle at that little voice. At how broken he sounded. “No one’s ever nice to me because my dad is scary.”
Really tugging on the heartstrings, aren’t you, kid? I kind of wondered if he was playing me, but I couldn’
t see what angle he was working. Sighing, I dragged the little kid down the three, rickety flights of stairs, around the piles of trash and someone who was passed out in front of one of the hallways. The rain spit over the edge of the balcony that only half-covered the outdoor stairs, staining the dirty carpets black.
“Lady?” Josh asked. We’d managed to traverse most of the disreputable joint in silence.
“Yes, Josh?” I asked quietly, my thoughts still tangled up in the rain. If it got any harder, I’d have to take the bus. And that was fifty cents I wasn’t sure I could part with.
“What’s your name?” Josh asked.
I smiled down at him and he smiled tentatively back, displaying a gap-toothed grin in his cute little, freckled face. It was a shame his father wasn’t so adorable. A shiver ran down my back at the thought of Josh’s dad. He was not the sort to mess with. It explained why the office had given me a discount on the room next to his. Apparently, tenants there didn’t last long. It’s no wonder, as shady and dangerous as my neighbor is. But there’s nowhere else for me to go.
I snapped back to our current conversation, putting back the smile that had slid off of my face as my thoughts turned bleak. “My name is Ivy Simmons.”
“That’s a pretty name,” the kid answered after a moment’s consideration. “Prettier than Josh.”
“You have a fine name, kiddo.” We reached the office and I knocked twice, hoping Mr. Marcus would be in his office instead of out searching for a hooker or an eight-ball out in the dingy city streets.
Lucky for both of us, Mr. Marcus was in. He was a fat, round thing with a little hair where it ought to be and a lot of hair where it shouldn’t be. But, heedless of his girth or his profusion of body hair, Mr. Marcus wore short shorts, flip flops with striped socks, and a heavily sweat-stained wife beater. Even in this cold weather, his slimy, unwashed attire didn’t change. I wondered if he’d ever owned any real clothing in his life.
We got a second copy of the key from Mr. Marcus for the three crumpled dollars that Josh had in his pocket. His eyes were wide at his new acquisition; he fingered the key lovingly between his two grubby hands, the grimy copper key only adding to the dirt on his skin. “Thank you for the help, Ivy,” the boy whispered.
I pulled a bag of chips I’d swiped off of the counter at my apartment out of my purse and handed it to him. “Here. It’s not much, but you should eat something.”
Josh’s chocolate brown eyes got huge at the offer, his smile spreading even wider. Grabbing the chips violently from my hands, he tore up the stairs at a reckless speed, heedless of anything around him. “Lock the door behind you, Josh. And you’re welcome!” I called after him. My eyes followed him up the steps, key in one hand, chips in the other, until he disappeared around the corner.
Wondering how much trouble I would be in with his father later, I spun on my heel and headed to work, my head bowed low to keep the rain out of my face.
Chapter Two
Creed
“Goddamn it, that hurts, Creed,” Bax complained, rubbing his eye. It was already turning black around the edges; it’ll be quite the shiner by the morning. I chuckled; he was going to be trying to use his injury to get pity from the girls by the next day. Most likely, that black eye will rough him up some pity pussy from the gang’s ladies.
I had my own injuries from our “business meeting,” but I hadn’t been hit nearly as hard or as injured as visibly as Bax. Lucky asshole.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” I growled, digging through the pockets of my torn-up jeans for my keys. “But I could use a cold beer and a hot shower. That will put us both right as rain.” We walked up the rickety steps to my rented room, glaring at anyone who came too near. Most of the residents already knew to stay away from me; they all knew who Creed Carver was. Not a single one of these cowards even had the spine to look me in the eye.
It didn’t mean I could forget caution; there were no rules where I came from. That meant there could be enemies hiding in any corner of this place. So I kept a close eye out, glaring down anyone who came too close.
“Don’t look so down, Creed! We succeeded in what the Boss wanted us to do, so that’s all good news.” Bax slapped me hard on the shoulder, making me wince as he slammed his hand into some scrape or bruise from the tumble earlier. I’d kicked the shit out of some of those lower on the rungs of the motorcycle club’s society for getting uppity. On the Boss’s orders, of course. And considering, everything had gone pretty well. We only had to kill one of them. The man’s blood was still spattered across my new jacket and stained under my fingernails.
“I’m not down, Bax. I’m just sore. Let’s get to my apartment so I can relax a little, okay?”
We made our way up the stairs and around the corner to their hallway, and I thought about my neighbor, like I usually did on my way around this corner. I found always found myself looking for her, despite my promises to myself that I would stop. I wanted that woman, whatever her name was, wanted her more than any broad I had ever laid eyes on. I wanted to grab a hold of her neck and drag her into my room, pinning her to the wall as I taught her what rough sex was. She could use it; maybe it would get all of that sad, stuck-up out of her blood.
Too bad she’s the most boneless human being I’ve ever laid eyes on. Most of the trash I met around this place had the decency to stay out of my way, most averted their eyes, but no one cowered against the floor the way my neighbor did. Every time I walked by her, she curled up as small as she could, sniveling like a mouse hiding from a lion.
Women like that didn’t belong anywhere near me, that was for sure. The gangs had a tendency to chew up and spit out the weak ones; very few ever left the grounds alive. That’s the way my world worked. At least for people like her, it did.
I was so caught up in my simultaneous lust and dislike of my neighbor, I barely noticed when Bax signaled me to get down. I winced; how could I have let my thoughts of that woman cloud my surroundings so badly?
Now that I was looking, it was pretty clear the signs that had tipped Bax off in the first place. The planter I kept too close to my door had been disturbed; it was one of the many triggers I had around the entrance to my place to help signal me if it had been disturbed. I glanced at the door. There was a small piece of chalk attached to the bottom of the door that would mark the carpet if opened. I glanced down, seeing the little white mark on the carpet. Dead giveaway.
There was someone in my room.
Fuck. This is the last thing I need.
Bax pulled out his nine from inside of his jacket, getting into position on the far side of the door. I just rolled up my sleeve, mentally preparing myself for another battle. A deep breath and the world shifted.
Breeze from the north. A skitter of mouse claws on the wood above my head. A car honking in the distance, but I blocked it out, listening to the apartment. No sound coming from inside. The door was unlocked; I could see the bolt’s home in the door frame from here, and it was vacant. Bax was in position, his arms trembling a little with the beginnings of adrenaline rush. But I was cold, frozen from the inside out. I’d been at this so long, I didn’t get the rush of nerves anymore. Just icy, emotionless readiness that steadied my mind and made everything around me sharper.
Nodding to Bax, I wrapped my hand around the handle as silently as possible. Then I spun it and flung open the door in one swift movement, pushing the door out of the way as Bax slipped around my shoulder to point his weapon into the room.
Josh was sitting on the bed, a chip halfway to his mouth. He stared at the two of us with too-wide eyes, completely frozen on the ugly, brown comforter. Chip crumbs were scattered around him, creating a little circle on the bed.
Laughing, Bax slid his gun back into his pocket as he stepped into the rented room. “Well, you little bastard, you trying to get yourself killed?”
Josh laughed, the sound exaggerated and forced. “If you were trying to scare me, Bax, it didn’t work.”
I rolled my e
yes stepping into the room and slamming the door behind me. “How the fuck did you get in here, you brat?”
“Ivy helped me,” he said around a mouthful of chips. His brown eyes were still a little too wide. “You’re going to have to try harder if you want to scare me, Bax.”
I growled, bringing Josh’s attention back to me. “Who the hell is Ivy?”
Josh rolled his eyes, bouncing on the bed like he couldn’t hold still. “Our neighbor, the pretty one. She took me down to the office and asked them for a key to let me in.” He held out the key in his grubby little hands and I winced when I saw it. As a nine-year-old, Josh probably didn’t understand the implications of living in a place where locks didn’t matter and anyone could get in. His little child’s mind was too young to grasp what real danger we lived in every day, with his dad being who he was.
Not a father any kid would want. I said, “And those assholes in the office just let you two in?”
Josh shook his head. He was bouncing on the bed now with his socked feet, still shoving chips into his mouth. “The office guy recognized me, and he didn’t want to make you mad. So he let me in.”