To my surprise, the dress actually looks pretty good. It’s definitely tighter on me than when I’d bought it, but the flattering cut still hugs my curves in all the right places. I turn from side to side as I look in the mirror, trying to make sure the fit isn’t too snug on my backside. It looks okay, and I smooth it down nervously.
My cell phone buzzes. Crap, I think, that must be the 8pm alarm. I look down at the buzzing screen. Sure enough, I only have an hour to get to Queens.
I dash to my bureau to finish my routine by applying a light pink lipstick and grabbing a pair of simple gold-studded earrings. I toss my wallet, keys, and phone into my purse. I look at the pepper-spray sitting on the counter, debating on bringing it, too.
He’s a sleaze, so you better. Feeling somewhat comforted knowing that I can defend myself against Jensen, I take one last look in the mirror.
“Well, Michelle,” I say to my reflection, “Who knows what’s about to happen. Let’s just hope it’s for the better.”
With those final words, I slip on a pair of matching navy blue heels and grab a scarf in case it gets cold. Then, I dash out of my apartment to catch the next train to Queens, suspicious about what the night will bring. My heart pounds because it’s not going to be good, and I know it.5MichelleApproximately an hour later, I find myself regretting my decision to show up.
This can’t be the right address.
I compare the address Jensen texted me with the dot on my phone map, but the words don’t lie. I guess it is.
I stare up at the old, decrepit warehouse, feeling very alone in this quiet part of the city. The building looks deserted, and the rusty door looks like it may fall apart any moment. Hesitantly, I push against its metal frame. It wails loudly, the sound echoing down the empty road. I cringe but push a little harder to open the door enough to step inside.
To my surprise, the old building isn’t dark like I expected, but brightly lit by dozens of overhead fluorescents. I squint, trying to adjust my eyes to the glare. After a few rapid blinks, my eyes adjust and I nearly scream.
There’s a man by that table!
I blink again, my breathing accelerated.
It’s Jensen, I realize.
“Michelle. Right on time,” Jensen calls from across the open room, beckoning me to come inside.
I walk slowly in his direction, letting my eyes roam the large space for anything strange. But as far as I can tell, it’s only Jensen and me in this dusty old building. It’s empty save for stacks of crates piled up in neat cubes on the concrete floor.
“What is this place?” I ask. I stop walking a couple of feet away from him, feeling queasy just being in such close proximity to the weaselly man again. Why does he think that cologne smells good? Tonight, it smells like ripe feet mixed with rotten honeysuckle.
“It’s an abandoned factory. Some hipsters wanted to turn it into an office building. I bought it last month, so they’ll be paying me rent.” Jensen gestures to a pile of papers on the grimy table. “They have plans to renovate.”
I feel myself get even more nervous, but force myself to stay calm.
“So what am I doing here?”
He smiles, showing long, yellowish teeth.
“Ah yes, right to the point as always, Michelle. Well, like I said, you play along and you may get to keep your license and a roof over your head.” Jensen grins maliciously and I shiver at the sight.
“Look, I’m here, aren’t I?” I want to bolt but keep repeating to myself how much I need my job.
“That you are. And looking stunning might I say.” Jensen reaches a hand out and runs a finger down my arm. Creepy crawlies make me shudder inside, but I manage to stay still.
What the hell? Why does he think he can touch me like that?
“Yes, I think this will work out just fine,” Jensen says with satisfaction before stepping back and running a hand through his greasy hair. “Alright, follow me.”
With that, he turns around and starts walking deeper into the warehouse. The walk is dark and shadowy, made all the more treacherous by piles of debris and upended construction projects scattered across the warehouse. I follow Jensen through two different doorways, up a flight of stairs, and across some very wobbly stones.
When we reach a closed door, Jensen stops and turns around to face me. “Before we go in there, remember, you owe me.”
I stare at him blankly as my heart races with trepidation. But Jensen doesn’t say anything else, and instead he opens the door to reveal another well-lit room. This time, there are two men standing in the barren space.