1
Roxie
Present Day
A creepy feeling crawled over my skin, making me shiver and smack at my arms like there was some long-legged hairy spider climbing its way over my body. I abandoned what I was doing and stood, cocking my head to the side to listen. There was nothing out of the ordinary. The only sound that filled the air was the insistent hum of the clothes dryer.
There were no heavy footfalls echoing down the steps. No ominous sounds of heavy breathing reached my ears (Come on, you know creepy, no-good people all breathe heavily).
My phone went off, making me jump and let out a little shriek.
I was being ridiculous. I was being paranoid.
One glance at the screen and the number I didn’t recognize and my belly did a little nosedive. After disregarding the gut feeling of being watched, I hit the IGNORE button and dropped the cell into the bottom of the basket. Not caring if my clothes were completely dry, I wrenched open the dryer and pulled out the pile of damp fabric, dumping it into a heap on top of the stuff I’d already folded. I’d had enough of laundry to last me a lifetime. ‘Course, maybe I wouldn’t hate the chore so much if I didn’t have to haul it all across the parking lot and down two flights of stairs.
What was it with landlords? Did they all get together one night and decide they would put their laundry facilities in the grossest, most inconvenient places possible just to torture the tenants?
There are worse things in life than having to hike a mile to wash your clothes. I snorted at the thought because it was so true.
It was hot down here in this laundry basement. The running dryers and crappy ventilation made the air feel stuffy and hot. It didn’t help that it was humid as hell outside, with a thunderstorm threatening overhead, promising a torrential downpour at any given moment.
After adding my little plastic jug of detergent and dryer sheets into the basket with the clean clothes, I piled it on top of another full, identical basket and hefted them into my arms. After trudging up two flights of steps, I pushed through the door and stepped outside, the humid air not offering the slightest relief from being in that basement.
With a sigh, I headed toward the apartment I shared with my roommate, Harlow. A flash of neon lightning lit up the deep purple-hued sky, reminding me of a strobe light the DJ sometimes turned on at the club.
A sudden colossal boom of thunder caused my body to jerk, and one of my socks fell from the basket and landed on the sidewalk.
“Ugh,” I spat and set the baskets on the ground to fetch my runaway sock. The sound of squealing tires cut through the parking lot, and I jumped up, spinning around with a pounding heart and searching the darkened lot with wide eyes.
It wasn’t late enough to be dark, but this storm was doing a damn good job of hiding the sun and all the light it provided.
On the other side of the parking lot, a red car sped around the corner and disappeared. I blew out a breath and shook my head at my own paranoid behavior. I really needed to quit being so jumpy.
You have a reason to be jumpy, a voice in my head whispered.
After grabbing up the baskets once more, I walked the rest of the way to my apartment and up the stairs. Once inside, I dumped the baskets on the floor and went in the kitchen for a cold water and eyed the contents of the fridge as I drained half the bottle.
We were running low on food.
I smiled. Cam called it girl food. Cam and Harlow had been together for months now, and he split his time between here and his place. Since he stayed so often we kept Pop-tarts and bacon around because that was his version of man food.
It was my turn to do the shopping since Harlow went last week. I’d just add that to the list of chores I did not want to do. The digital clock on the microwave stared at me, the red numbers jumping out as if to remind me I was going to be late if I didn’t hurry up.
After setting my cell on the kitchen counter, I took my laundry into my room and set it beside the bed. It was clean. It was folded (well, most of it). I could put it away later. I moved quickly, almost on autopilot, and unzipped my duffle bag to toss in a couple handfuls of clothing. I didn’t even pay attention to what outfits I was packing. It really didn’t matter. They were all basically the same anyway.
When a girl worked as a stripper, the only important part about her wardrobe was that it came off easily.
Once that was finished, I grabbed a simple cotton dress, a pair of panties, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. I felt gross after doing laundry and chores all day. Hopefully a cold shower would freshen me up a bit and get me ready for tonight.
I wasn’t new to being a stripper. I’d been taking off my clothes for money for a couple years now. Even still, sometimes the fact that this was my life still shocked the hell out of me.