Ghostface Killer(7)

I don't say a word. I've been told that before. And it always means the same damn thing. Images of last night flash through my mind like destructive lightning.

"Go away. Leave me alone," I hiss.

"But you haven't heard my proposition."

"I'm sure whatever it is, I'm not interested." I'm no whore. I'm not selling myself for him or anyone else.

"You sure about that? You don't seem to have many options at the moment." He alludes to my current situation.

"You can drop the charges. There's an option."

"It may be."

I perk up at the sound of that.

"What do you want?" I ask cautiously.

"A name."

"Any name?" I smart off.

"Your name." His eyes narrow. He's not interested in any of my shit. I wish I wasn't interested in anything he had to say. "Well?" The man clearly doesn't like to wait.

"Stephanie," I reluctantly divulge. "But everyone calls me Stevie."

"Mmm"-he continues to analyze me-"Stevie. I like it."

"So happy it pleases you," I sneer.

"You have quite the chip on your shoulder, Stevie." The way my name rolls off his tongue is nerve-wracking. If he knew what I went through last night, he'd understand. He'd understand that I want nothing to do with him or any sick, perverted trade agreement he's going to offer.

"Please, just leave me alone." I drop my forehead against my knees and will him away.

"You'd rather rot in this jail cell than hear what I have to say?"

"Only if you're going to offer me my freedom without me having to spread my legs."

Silence.

That's what I thought.

"Just go." I don't raise my head. I don't even want to look at him. I don't want him to look at me. I just want to disappear.

"Stevie, look at me." His tone is firm.

"No," I refuse.

"Yes." He snakes his hand under my wet chin and forces my face up. "How much is your life worth?"

I don't respond because I have no idea. Before last night, it might have been worth something. But right now? Nothing much.

I just stare into the icy green abyss of his eyes. What's this guy's angle? What does he want from me?

"I'm going to ask you once more. And you get only one reply. One reply that can change your entire situation. Your entire life," he emphasizes. "How much is your life worth? Is it worth enough to kill for?" He phrases it slowly so I absorb every word.

If I could drop my jaw, I would. Kill? Is it worth enough to kill for? Would I kill to save myself?




 

 

"Answer me, Stevie." He shakes my face and demands a response before holding up my gold ring.

One look at the thin, shiny band and I impulsively answer, "Yes."





Stevie ~Age 24

Present day

MY WHITE BRA and panties glow under the black lights as I make my way up the winding staircase to the second floor. Below me, naked girls in six-inch heels twirl and flip on metal poles, enticing half-drunken men. The electric pop music thumps loudly as I deliver a tray of drinks to a VIP party-a bunch of high-rolling regulars who rent the space out several times a month. Big spenders looking to get drunk and get laid. Which isn't a problem considering there's an ample amount of alcohol and plenty of girls prowling around to oblige.

I serve the one-hundred-and-fifty-dollar-per-glass Cognac to each of the three gentlemen occupying the white-tufted, semi-circle couch by the balcony. It's the best seat in the house. I drop two rocks glasses full of amber liquid on the coffee table, and the third I hand over in a more personal way, slipping into the clients lap I've been working all night. He's going to be my payout. This is his third drink, and you can see the effects of the 70 proof VSOP setting in. He liberally rubs his hands all over my body as I feed him a sip of his drink.

"How long are going to tease me?" I flirt with the fool.

His heavy blue eyes meet mine as he palms one of my breasts.

"Who's teasing? I'm right here." He has a gruff New York accent.

"So am I, for the right price." I run my fingertip around his lips.

"I'd pay anything for a go at you."

"For five hundred dollars, you can have me for an entire hour."

"That's all?" He laughs mockingly. "You're a bargain."

"I could always jack up the price to make me feel more high end."

"Are we negotiating now?"

"No." I lean in closer, tempting him. "I'm just eager to get your pants off."

"And my money in your pocket." He's not as dumb as he looks.

I smile. "I am a businesswoman."

"Gotta respect that." He gestures with his head, indicating he wants another sip of Cognac. I'm all too willing to give him what he wants. Anything he wants.