As if it was that easy.
“They’re cute right?” I said with a forced smile.
“You could kill someone with this,” she said, running a finger down the stiletto heel.
She had no idea.
“I’ll kill you if you break them,” I teased.
Gemma’s eyes widened as she took in the label. “Girl, these better be fake. You need to be saving to get out of this shit hole.”
“My apartment’s notthatbad.”
“Are you kidding me?” Gemma glared at my perpetually broken radiator. “I keep waiting to hear you froze to death. And don’t get me started on your kitchen. Evenmyshitty apartment has a working oven.”
“Are you complaining after I bought you food?” I said, snatching a fry from the bag.
“I’m serious, you need to get out of this death trap. Like I know my landlord is a slumlord, but yours takes it to the next level.”
I sighed. She wasn’t wrong, and what made it worse was that every time I went to my parent’s immaculate house I was reminded of what I was missing. Showers that stayed warm for more than ten seconds and appliances that actually turned on.
The worst part was that I was funding my parents’ entire lifestyle, and I couldn’t reap any of the benefits.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said, even though it was a lie. My parents were restricting my finances to try to force me to move back home.
I shuddered. Risking frostbite was better than going back there.
There was a reason I escaped.
I could see Gemma was building up to a rant, so I tossed a french fry at her mouth, and giggled when it fell onto her lap.
“Do you think you’ll stay at the new job?” I asked while she grabbed the french fry and popped it in her mouth.
“It isn’t as bad as I was expecting from a strip club. Granted, I’m just a cocktail waitress, so that makes things easier.” A frown crossed her lips before she took a heaping bite out of her burger.
“What is it?” I asked.
As a child, I’d learned to watch people’s faces for minute twitches that gave away their emotions. Usually it was for self preservation, but now worry swirled around my stomach along with the wine.
She glanced down at the ground for a second and then plastered on a smile. “It’s not a big deal.”
I crossed my arms and stared at her silently.
“Fine,” Gemma said. “This guy followed me home from work and snuck into my building. Not that it’s difficult to do, considering everyone leaves our front door propped open…”
“Did you see his face?”
She nodded and flicked through some pictures on her phone.
I zoomed in on a slightly blurred image. My frown matched her own when I recognized the tattoos.
“Have you seen him since?” I asked.
“He shows up a couple times a week at the club, but lots of guys are regulars so that isn’t unusual. And I haven't seen him near my apartment since that night.”
She sighed, and her shoulders sagged. “When I came home from work last night, I could’ve sworn that some things in my apartment weren’t where I left them. But I’ve been working late hours. I probably just moved them and forgot.”
“Gemma-”
