Page 7 of Fang
I can’t help but laugh. “True enough. The offer stands, though.”
I hear a door open in the background. “Actually, she just got here.”
“Tell her hi for me.”
“Will do,” he says before hanging up.
The music from the floor catches my attention. Instinctively I get up and head toward it. “What’s Your Pleasure” by Jessie Ware starts to play. It’s sensual as fuck and makes the customers act like Pavlov’s dogs. Only one of my girls dances to that song.
Cami.
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but watch when she takes the stage. Especially to this song. The way she will crawl around drives our customers mad.
As soon as she comes into view, my breath catches.
Fuck me.
Iremember the day I got my acceptance letter for San Antonio University. I also applied to the other colleges in the area, but this is the one that offered me a partial scholarship. It doesn’t cover much, but even with it only covering my books, it’s one less expense I have to pay for out of pocket.
It’s too bad they require me to stay and pay for on-campus housing.
Heading down to the admin office, I smile at Shelia.
“Hey there. Are you here to pay your next installment?” she asks.
I nod. “Sorry it’s a day late. I couldn’t make it over here yesterday.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile.“I changed the due date for you. It’ll be our little secret.” She winks at me.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
I start to count out the $2,300 I owe for this month. They don’t usually allow students to pay over time, but Shelia tookpity on me when I gave her my essay to read that got me into the college in the first place. The one that outlined my childhood and the obstacles that have led to me being here. She must’ve felt sorry for me because she petitioned on my behalf to get me the payment plan.
When I hand over the money, she frowns at it. I know she can tell where I’ve gotten it from. There are some fives, tens, and twenties, but this month I didn’t have as many as normal, so a lot of it is in ones.
She gives me a tight smile as she counts it. “Waitressing going well?”
We both know I don’t waitress, but I appreciate her saying it anyway.
“It is.”
She finishes counting, filling out a receipt before handing it to me.“See you next month. Take care of yourself, Camille.”
I nod, hating that she uses my full name. Only my mother ever called me that. I wish I could erase it from the earth.
Walking out of the admin building, I pull my hoodie around me tighter. It’s not that it’s chilly, but when I’m not at work, I like to hide my body. I don’t want the attention.
Unfortunately, I still get it whether I like it or not.
“Hey, Virgin Mary. Where you running off to? The convent?”
I recognize the voice immediately. The same little asshole who dubbed me Stinky Cami when I was in middle school.
Zak Brohan.
The quarterback of the football team and my biggest tormentor.
I wanted to cry when I saw him at the school for the first time. I had hoped college would be different, but I learned long ago that hopes never come true.
