“What was your boyfriend doing?”
His expression hardens. “Stealing mostly. I didn’t know.”
I wait quietly, sensing there’s more.
“He also, um, broke his promise. He got addicted to heroin.”
“Fuck.”
“He hid it so well. Or maybe I just wanted to ignore the signs.” He shrugs. “Either way, he did the one thing he promised he wouldn’t do. He left me.”
“Left you for what?”
“Death. I found him with the needle still in his arm. He was sitting up next to a dumpster, covered in snow.”
“Jesus, Cashmere.”
“That day I decided I’d never give my heart over to someone again. I would never trust someone to take care of me. It was me against the world.”
Now everything makes sense.
“I left that city and found my way here to Mistone. I was out looking for shelter when I saw Segreto. It looked so nice from theoutside, and the cars in the parking lot were kind of fancy. I thought maybe it was a higher class strip joint, and when I saw the rainbow flag on the door, I went in. I met Jimmy that day. He told me it was burlesque and I could be more artistic. It felt like finding shelter in a storm. He hired me, found me a place to stay with one of the dancers, and I got food and a shower and clean clothes. He paid me an advance so I could get a few things. He saved my life.”
“You saved your own life, baby. You found Jimmy, not the other way around.”
Cashmere searches my eyes for a second before turning away. “It’s not ballet, but I’m good at it, I make money, and I love it. It’s this reminder that beauty exists and people crave it. Sure, it’s still about sex, but sex is beautiful too.”
“It is.”
“Well, that’s it. That’s me. I’ve never told a soul, not even Jimmy, and if you use it to hurt me, I’ll carve your heart out of your chest and keep it on my shelf.”
There he is. My fierce little warrior. “You told me because you already know I would never use it to hurt you.”
Cashmere’s lips twist. “Maybe.”
“Are you hungry?”
“No. I want to know how you became a hitman.”
I guess I should have seen this coming. “Uh, well, our histories have some similarities, but our origins are different. I left home young too, but it was because my parents were drug addicts and my dad was abusive every time he got high, which was often. He always hated me. He told me once that he tried to get my mom to abort me but she wouldn’t. Then he tried to beat me out of her but I clung on. He called me relentless, and I guess that much is true.”
“Oh my god, Specter. Did you have siblings?”
“A sister, but she died before she was a year old. Complications from some birth defects. I didn’t know then, but I know now that it was caused by my mom’s drug use.”
“Did you know her?”
I shake my head. “She never left the hospital. We were visited by some social workers, but my parents put on a good show and they left me there.”
“Christ.”
“After I ran away, I did what I had to do to survive. Petty crimes, turned some tricks, whatever got food in my belly.” I rub my forehead. The last time I talked about any of this was when Shadow found me.
“It’s okay if you want to stop,” Cashmere says, touching my hand lightly.
“If you can tell me your story, I can tell you mine.” I blow out a breath. “I got caught up in a local gang. Not here. Over in Philly.”
Cashmere nods.
