I am one hundred percent sure Deny doesn’t give a shit about ripping the ring out of my lip. The only question is if he will.
“Next month, twice as much.” He pulls meaningfully at the piercing with the tip of the knife. I taste copper. His other hand wraps around my throat. He only needs one to cut off my air. My feet kick out uselessly. I can’t move with the knife still under my piercing.
I can’t even fight as the darkness closes in.
“Theo.” The voice is sharp and the hands rough, popping sharp slaps against my already-sore face.
I blink my eyes open to the face of my landlord, Jacky, who seems pissed as hell.
“The fuck did you do to my place, Theo?” She bites the words out, as if I have thrown a rager in my small room and intentionally wrecked the place. “Never mind,” she amends before I can even speak. “Get your shit and leave. Your rent was due this morning. Unless you have it and enough to cover the damage, get out.” Jacky slaps a paper to my chest. I look at it long enough to know it’s a bill.
I fumble to my pockets, but of course, the tips I had from last night are gone. Either Deny or someone living here took it. Light barely filters through the dingy window, but I have lived here long enough to know it is morning. God knows how long I laid on the thin carpet. If my phone hadn’t landed under me, I’m sure it would be gone, too.
In the time it takes me to sit up, Jacky disappears.
Even for me, this is . . . bad.
I can’t possibly make enough to pay Jacky in the time she wants it. I don’t work until tomorrow at Black Diamond. Maxine only pays me once a month. Not just that, but I have to assume Deny knows everything about my current life there is to know. This place isn’t safe.
I quickly find I have exactly one Black Diamond shirt not torn to shreds, the one I was wearing. The hoodie Matt gave me is still fine, too. When I left Salt Lake, I only had the clothes on my back and a backpack, one I carried daily. I find the backpack on the ground under my destroyed clothes, torn, but usable. It was expensive, but plain and black and not a brand most people knew. So, somehow, it has remained. It was more expensive than the boots that were stolen, but those were easy for the thief to resell.
A hysterical laugh wants to rise up. I was once brand conscious enough to buy a luxury label so obscure common street thieves didn’t know it for what it was.
Look at me now.
In goes my phone charger. My socks and meager toiletries are destroyed. Clearly, Deny knows the sad level of my existence and is happy to try and ruin me slowly. He wants me to know he knows replacing socks and toothpaste isn’t easy for me.
Good thing I hid the complimentary toiletry items from my New Year’s stay in Black Bear. They’re in the storage room, where I thought I would be hiding my emergency cash.
My now-gone emergency cash.
I shrug off the cold chill cutting sharply across my gut. This is just like Salt Lake.
I carry the backpack with me to the communal kitchen down the hallway. The kitchen is actually an old brown fridge and an even dingier two-burner stovetop in a room about the size of the one I rented.
A few days ago, Quinn sent me home a few days ago with some new soda his supplier threw in with his order. By some miracle, two cans are still far back in the fridge. I toss them in the bag, mostly ice from sitting that far back. My friends sugar and caffeine will come in handy before too long.
My stomach growls. My leftovers were dumped last night, and now I miss them. I can’t go to Maxine’s, my only option to feed myself, until after it closes at one, so the hunger will just have to sit there.
I take myself to the cold shower, able to stand it just long enough to soothe the bruises somewhat. I have no clean clothes, no underwear, no soap—not even the basics.
Fucking Nico.
A shredded shirt at least makes a decent towel.
As soon as I am done and dressed again in the clothes I was wearing, I grab the bus to Bear Valley with everything I own in a half-full backpack.
By the time I make it to the Larkspur Condo, I really question my decision to leave my place with damp hair. My throat is killing me, but that could be from Deny. I push any thoughts of being sick down far. I simply can’t be, so no reason to spend time thinking about it.
I have insurance, from Quinn. But that doesn’t cover co-pays. And medicine. And. . .
Nope, can’t think about that. I need someplace safe to land.
In the back of my mind, I have contemplated what would happen if I had to hide somewhere. Maybe not so far back in my mind as I want to think.
When I get to the storage room at the Larkspur, organizing the chaos over the last few months pays off. I easily find all the things I need from what other people couldn’t be bothered to pack up: socks and underwear, even laundry detergent. Plus an expired protein bar. It tastes awful, but I wash it down with the now-unfrozen soda, and I at least don’t feel hungry anymore.
There’s a thought there. Bakery goods with extra protein for post-work out skiing or rafting or whatever. A fresh take on the protein bar. But, my head is too full to chase it.
