Finally, deciding I’d done everything I could, I cleaned up my office and decided to quickly run a few errands before heading home.
There was liquor to buy, since I wasn’t like Layna, Vi, and Hope. I didn’t like the hard liquors the guys kept at the clubhouse. For better or worse (worse, usually, since the sugar almost always gave me a headache and hangover), I preferred those sweet premixed drinks instead.
I also needed to grab more of my shampoo and conditioner since Layna and her long mane of hair had used up what was left in my bottles in the shower.
I also had a pick-up order from the local printer.
So I parked my car in a central location and ran back and forth to it after each errand.
The print shop, though, was far off at the edge of town, almost close to Third Street gang territory, where there were several rundown and empty buildings and clear scouts and dealers standing around.
I reminded myself that the club made it very clear to all the local crews that the princesses were off-limits.
But it wasn’t necessarily the dealers I was worried about; it was their clientele.
It didn’t help that a flickering streetlight let out a loud hum before blanketing me in near total darkness just as I rounded the bend to a dead-end street where the print shop was located.
My heart leapt.
My pulse fluttered.
And my belly tightened.
I forced myself to keep walking, not to start swiveling my head around, looking unsure and scared.
Walk with confidencehad been something hammered into my cousins and me during our training from our badass aunts.Predators are surprisingly good at picking out prey. Make it clear you aren’t that.
I squared my shoulders, lengthened my stride, and forced a confidence I didn’t feel.
Right up until I got to the damn print shop and found it closed down.
Just as a group of young guys emerged from a dive bar across the street.
Great.
Fantastic.
Just what this night needed.
“Hey, baby!” one of them called as I turned on my heel and started to walk back from where I’d come.
“Aw, don’t run away. We just want to talk to you!”
Yeah, sure.
Why didn’t I check the time before I started down this way?
“Damn, look at that ass,” one of the guys called.
He sounded closer.
Or was his voice just echoing against the buildings?
“I love when they make you chase them,” another voice curled, his voice as slimy as his words. I felt like the ick of it slicked my skin. I wanted a shower. And a can of mace.
“Come on, guys,” another voice called. “Leave her alone.”
Finally, a voice of reason.
