Illya
“Hey, Marcella, can you— ” Marcella nodded before I could even pop the question, and I held my arms above my head after she took the end of the bandage. “Thanks.”
“No problemo,chica.” She very carefully taped the wrap against my side, and I smiled when she pulled up my bodysuit down my torso. “I think I might’ve been wrong— you buy more bandages than hair dye, I bet. I like this green, though. It matches your contacts real nice.”
“Thanks. Um . . . yeah, I mean, it’d suck if someone tried to grab my chest since, you know, I don’t really have one.” My cheek twitched as flames licked up my neck, and Marcella smiled faintly as she held the fabric taut around my hips. Fastening the snap between my legs, I tugged and picked at the bodysuit as I examined myself in the mirror. By far, Marcella was the one at work that I was closest to, and she leaned on the small table covered in makeup and glitter vials as I fiddled with my hair. “Do you really think it looks good?”
I’d dyed my hair temporarily with green, but used two different shades, and Marcella smiled broadly with a nod out of the corner of my eye. My long, curly locks were going to need to get lobbed off soon. It was the price I paid for constantly dying it, no matter how much assurance was on the box. I’d managed to somehow keep most of my hair healthy, but all that damage added up eventually. Against the pale pink of my suit, my hair was dark, almost mossy, and I pulled apart my lids to adjust my contacts.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your real hair— that’s not a bad thing. I get why you obscure how you look, working in a place like this.” Vivid, brown eyes met mine in my reflection, and I hummed softly in acknowledgment as Marcella sighed. “So, did you find a new roommate, yet? Did you ever find out what happened to your old one?”
“Uh . . . no. She just disappeared. I’m not sure where she went, but, I mean, life moves on. I can’t hope she’ll come back because she probably won’t, and I got bills and stuff that aren’t going to wait for her.” Keeping as close to the truth as possible was the best way to lie, and I glanced over at Marcella to arch a brow. “Why do you ask?”
“I just want to make sure you’re okay, Illya. I know you two had been together a while in Los Angeles, right. It must suck that she went back to using.” She smiled sad and sympathetic, and I clenched my jaw as residual betrayal and anger bubbled up in my chest. “Are you looking for a new roommate, or were you just working up the nerve to ask me if you could couch surf?”
“Uh . . . the second one?” Fire engulfed my face, and Marcella giggled a little with a slight nod. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet. I didn’t want to ask because I know it’s not your house, but I don’t know how long I can pay everything myself.”
“Oh, please, my parents are never home. They’re in, like, Asia right now or something having the time of their life.” There was always that one person who did this because it was fun, not out of necessity. Marcella’s parents weren’t loaded, but they traveled for months at a time. All Marcella had to do was pay for whatever streaming and internet services she wanted because her parents paid the electricity and water.
“Still, it’d be kinda weird to come home and discover that some random chick has been living in your house without you knowing.” Waving her off, I forced a smile onto my face as Marcella arched a brow, and I bent to adjust my heels. “It’s fine. If I need to find a place for a few days, we can have, like, a sleepover, but . . . ”
“Oh, I’m down for that.” Truth be told, I didn’t want to live with Marcella because I didn’t want to get comfortable with that pipe dream. Eventually, I’d work my way up, go to school for something, and make it myself, but, right now, I was in the gutter, essentially.
I’d been under these metaphorical grates so long that I was comfortable, and that was the real tragedy here.
“Illya!” Roge’s call through the back drew both our attentions, and I straightened as he shuffled over. In my heels, he was a good few inches shorter than me, and he scanned me from bottom to top before nodding. “You’re being requested in the private suite. Number six.”
“Okay. It better not be that old creep that never tips, though.” Roge only shrugged. It wasn’t as if it was his time that was being wasted, and I gave Marcella a little wave as she sat down in front of the mirror. “I’ll talk to you later, Marcella.”
“Yeah, later.” Leaving the back with Roge on my heels, I took a breath before heading out onto the floor. Bad rap music instantly flooded my ears, and I shook my head a little as the strobe lights flashed brightly. Low lights illuminated the catwalk, and girls danced on poles for guys with that couldn’t see a chick half-naked otherwise.
Thank God I don’t do the catwalk.When I started working here, Roge wanted me on the walk until I showed him the burn marks on my chest. No one would find that shit attractive, and I did a lot of private shows, VIP, and just walking around to sit on guys laps and listen to their shitty day. It worked for both of us, and I didn’t have to take off any clothes, for the most part.
Navigating my way through the swirling lights and waves of music rippling through the air, I held my breath against the reeking stench of booze. That was the one thing that never got better depending on how busy the place was— the very concrete foundation of this club was saturated in alcohol.
Peeling back the curtain of the private booth, I slapped an automatic smile on my face before setting eyes on the guy sitting on the bench. Prickles ripped up my spine, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up as my wide pupils met familiar narrowed ones.
Theo propped his head against the wall on his forearm, and I blinked hard as he scanned my body leisurely. Sucking in a sharp breath, my heart thundered hard as apprehension flooded my bloodstream, and my legs ached even as I forced them to bend.
This time, I wasn’t going to say anything— not a single peep. Not one verbal acknowledgment.
Repeating the mantra over and over again in my head, I walked over to Theo to stand between his spread knees with reluctance clawing at my throat. I’d just do the dance, get my tip, and when the two minutes were over, I’d leave. No doubt, it’d be the longest two minutes of my life.
“Illya.” Grabbing my hips, Theo sat me on his lap with a harsh tug, and I tensed as shooting pain rippled up my chest from where he’d stretched my skin. Holding my breath in fiery lungs, I closed my eyes briefly as I fought a wince, but if he noticed, he didn’t react in any way. “You have something of mine.”
Don’t say anything. Just don’t say anything.Grinding my teeth as I reached to pry his fingers from my waist, I couldn’t hear the music over the blood drumming my ears. Theo tightened his grip, and my face grew hot as pin needles stabbed up my ribs.
“You’re not getting away so easy this time.” Even through the bandages, the thick fabric of my leotard, I could feel Theo’s nails trying to dig. Did he even realize how hard he was holding me? A choke of a sob escaped me when the pain became unbearable, and I covered my mouth with my free hand as shallow, quick breaths dried my throat. “I think it’s about time we had a ch— ”
“That hurts!” My voice cracked harshly when I couldn’t keep my high-pitched squeal behind the lump in my throat, and Theo’s grip on my side suddenly eased. Standing up, I pushed open the curtain and ran for the front doors, shoving my way through the crowd, but the jostling only intensified the burning pain.
“Oh, my God . . . oh, God . . . ” I was on fire all over again, and I burst through the heavy, metal barriers to lean on the brick wall. Gasping, shallow breaths barely eased the screaming need of my lungs, and I held a clammy, trembling palm to my side. “Ow . . . oh . . . ”
My whole torso was tight, straining, sending bristling needle-like pain through me as my ruined skin spasmed and twitched. I couldn’t breathe enough, and black spots dotted my vision as I leaned heavily against the cooling bricks. The lights of the parking lot stretched up my legs and seeped through my shuttered lids, and a hard sob clogged my throat.
But, if I cried, the pain would get worse. I was an ugly, none-too-gentle crier.
Tiny, strangled whimpers slithered past the dense lump in my throat, and I hiccupped a ragged breath as I tried not to move. Goosebumps washed my arms and legs under my stockings and bodysuit, and a pained gasp escaped me when a mangled hand pressed against my shoulder blade. My eyes flickered over my shoulder, and Theo’s form was blurred by tears and my contacts as they misaligned with my actual pupil.
