Rita’s was slammed, and I grind my teething thinking about how little I made in tips. Sometimes I can make a good chunk of change when the tips are coming my way, but tonight everyone was stiffing me. By the time I tipped out to the cooks and the busboys I was left with a sad amount of cash to show for all my hard work.
I keep waiting on a rich relative to show up and make all my dreams come true, but I know that’s wishful thinking. My mom died when I was a baby and I was raised by my aunt. She didn’t know who my dad was and had five kids of her own to worry about. We moved around a lot and I was shuffled between bedrooms and couches until I was old enough to get a job and make my own money. The last time I saw her, she was living in Las Vegas and I had my bag on my shoulder. She waved goodbye and went back to her TV show without a second glance. It’s not that she didn’t love me, she just didn’t have any energy left to care about another kid that wasn’t hers. It hurt that my cousins acted like I was a lost dog that nobody ever wanted, but I don’t really blame them either. None of us had what you’d call a stable childhood, and I think we all were looking for a way out. I came to Los Angeles thinking that a city this big would have enough opportunities for someone like me, but I was wrong.
The train begins to slow, and I look out to see my stop. It’s pitch black, and I groan. Sometimes the lights that are supposed to stay on twenty-four hours go off and we’re forced to walk through the station and onto the streets in the dark. Usually it’s not so bad if there are people with me, but this time I’m by myself.
“Great,” I mumble as I grab my bag and stand up as the train comes to a stop.
The doors open and I step onto the platform and walk quickly while tucking my bag under my arm. I have pepper spray in the side pocket, and I slip my hand inside, wrapping it around it. It’s not much, but it’s some kind of defense, and it makes me feel a little braver as I hurry to make it through the dark.
The train platform is long. There’s a station on the other end where you can buy tickets, but I always walk the back way because it saves me about a half a mile in walking. If I go toward the ticket building, I have to walk several blocks to get back to the other side, and even though this way is a little bit sketchy, my feet are killing me after tonight.
There’s an alley at the end and it runs along a fence with a junkyard on the other side of it. I usually sneak down this path, walking for a few yards before it opens up into the street and to some shops that are open late. It’s gated up, and I don’t think most people know about this back entrance, because otherwise people could sneak on the train if they wanted to. I have been known to do it a time or two when money was tight and I needed to get to work. But I try my best to do it the right way now and only use this way for getting home as fast as possible.
I get to the edge of the fence and breathe a sigh of relief. My biggest fear was getting away from the train stop, and now that I’m back here, I feel much safer. I check behind me and then look ahead, seeing light in the far distance. Just a little longer and I’ll be fine. Just a few blocks from home and then I can crawl into bed.
Thoughts of tomorrow and how early I have to get up flow through my head, so when I hear the noise on the other side of the fence, it startles me. It sounded like an animal, and I stop dead in my tracks, paralyzed by confusion and fear.
I’ve heard a dog once or twice from that side, but not for a long time. I had actually assumed the dog died or something, because the one time I saw it, it looked really old.
I hear another sound, and this time it sounds like a grunt. I take a step toward the fence and squint my eyes to see through. A long tarp is draped over it, hiding whatever is on the other side, but there’s a slit in it and I peek through. The light from the moon offers just enough illumination to make out someone standing in the distance.
A chill runs down my spine as I watch him. There are junk cars all around, and in between two of them I see this guy’s back. But he might as well be a giant for as big as he is. His shoulders are almost double the width of mine, and he towers over the hoods of the cars. His hair looks black in the moonlight and hangs down a little long. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt that’s pulled tight across his muscled back, and for someone who never really liked bulky guys, I’m feeling weak in the knees. My eyes travel down his jeans and to his tight ass. How can a guy who looks so menacing from behind look so hot at the same time?
He turns to the side, and then I hear the noise again. It’s then I notice someone at his feet. There’s a man on the ground, with his hands covering his face, and just as I realize what’s happening, the moonlight reflects off the gun in the big guy’s hand.