Page 86 of Laila Manning
“Thank you.” I whispered, unable to form any other words as his moved through my brain and heart. “Thank you.”
I worked my shift at Neat, learning as much as I could as I tried to focus on anything but what was happening out on the streets outside the building. There was no identifiable source of what caused the repetitive loop of intrusive thoughts I was stuck in, but I couldn’t get out of it. Honestly, if I looked at my entire life for the last ten years, I could get a pretty good idea, but still, there had been no recent trigger.
Nonetheless, I was stuck on a hamster wheel imagining the worst of the worst happening to everyone I loved, right outside the doors of Neat. And it was making it hard to function.
Was it some dark and twisted version of a sixth sense, or was it trauma?
I’d put twenty on trauma.
Nicole, the head bartender, nudged me on her way past with a bottle of high-end whiskey. “Hey girl, you’re all set. Beat feet.”
“Oh, thank God.” I joked, wiping my hands on a towel as I stared down at the dozens of glasses I’d just washed. “I was afraid my fingerprints were never going to return if I washed anymore.”
She chuckled and shrugged, “Newbie dues. You’ll be off them once the next person starts training, and then you can pass the dish towel off and never look back.”
“Good to know there’s light at the end of the tunnel.” Using the register, I clocked out and pulled out my phone to order a ride. “I’m going out the back, do you need me to take anything to the dumpster?”
“Yeah, take that garbage, if you don’t mind.”
“Got it.” I tied the bag closed and walked away with a wave, eager to get out of the bar and into the fresh air. Even though the fresh air smelled like trash as I neared the full dumpster. It was almost dark out, but there was still a serene peacefulness to the sky as it started turning purple above the city lights. At least, there was if you could ignore the smells and sounds of the city too. I wasn’t a big fan of living near the city, but there was a stark difference in the vibes of East Valley, even if it was only ten minutes from downtown.
I guess money bought serenity.
As I swung open the gate to the dumpster fence, three shadowy figures jumped in surprise around the side, making me freeze mid-step.
Drugs.
Doing or selling, I couldn’t tell. But I was between them and the exit, and that wasn’t good.
“Fuck you looking at, bitch?” One of the figures snapped with aggression as he walked out of the shadows.
“Just taking the trash out.” I murmured, trying to calm my erratic heart rate as I shoved the gate open all the way. “Go about your business.”
“My business.” The man sneered, rounding the dumpster and standing in my way of it, “You’re fucking with my business.” He was twice my size and looked dirty and diseased, making me shiver as he got closer.
“You should get a better office.” I snapped back, running off pure adrenaline and anxiety. Or maybe I was running off of trauma and mental illness, who the fuck knew. But either way, that was not the best thing to say, when all I really wanted was to leave, unnoticed.
“Maybe you should learn your fucking place.” He pointed his fingers at me, shaped like a gun as he grabbed his belt. “Maybe I’ll help teach you a lesson.”
My mouth was as dry as sandpaper as I took a step backward across the wet pavement. I watched as the two other figures came out of the shadows, wiping their noses and looking a little less clear-eyed. I was terribly outnumbered and—angry.
I was so damn angry at being caught in the stupid situations, over and over again, just like this one.
“Wait.” One of the nose wipers said, pushing his way out to look at me through red, glossy eyes. “Fuck. It’s you.” He was young, maybe barely eighteen, but unlikely, and looked as dirty as the first one.
“You know her?” The first druggie snapped, looking me up and down with disdain.
“Yeah,” The kid said, elbowing the third guy. “Zeke’s girl.”
“Yup.” The third one slurred with a slow nod, “The one with a hard-on for Kade.”
“Zeke?” The first one questioned as my blood ran cold. Were they friends or enemies of Zeke and Kade, or of all of Shadeport, for that matter. “Zeke Evans?” He sneered, “With you?”
The second kid shrugged with a laugh, “I don’t get it either, but yeah, I think she’s related to Jed somehow too.”
The first guy walked closer to me, but I stayed frozen in place, it wasn’t like I’d get away if I tried, in a way it felt like all those times I forced myself to stay still and let it happen in the brothel.
Sometimes fighting back made it hurt worse.
