Page 16 of Beautiful Scamp

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Walking along the riverside, I can almost imagine that I’m just another person, almost anonymous in this huge city. I look out at the tourists taking the riverboat, and they look back at me but they don’t see me. I’m just one person, tiny, ignored, unimportant. What would it be like to be one of them? My biggest worry being whether to wear an extra scarf against the chill wind on the water?

What is their guide pointing out to them right now as they go by, I wonder? The Cullen Family Carousel, the Promenade, the Renaissance Center.

I look back behind me at the multiple towers reaching skyward. How many people are inside the RenCen right now, enjoying their lives, buying things they don’t need just because they want them or having long business lunches while they pretend to be busy in meetings, or gazing out of hotel room windows at the view of the river and the city beyond?

If I’d been born into another life, who knows? Maybe I’d work there, doing a real job that pays a regular wage and doesn’t ever involve running from the police.

I wander up the steps, caught for a moment in the daydream, past a family eating lunch, and watch people going in and out of the doors. Security and scanners are there to keep people like me out, so that these people, the wealthiest in Detroit, can pretend life is all about luxury and excess.

The backpack weighs heavier on my shoulder than it should, and just for a moment I want to pretend that my life is different. I choose an empty bench and sit, and look out at the water. Just a tourist, here to see the lighter side of Detroit.

“Hey, this seat taken?”

I startle at the interruption, for a second unsure how long I’ve been sitting here. Looking across, I see a young man in a business suit, early twenties, blond hair pulled back in a pony tail, an arrogant grin on his face. “Sorry, I just want to be alone,” I tell him.

He nods, but takes a seat beside me anyway. “I get it, you don’t know me. But I’m not a cop. I was just wondering what you have.”

“What?”

“You know. In the bag. I could use a pick-me-up for the afternoon. Amphetamines…if you have any. I’ve got cash.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a wallet that looks like it cost more than my entire stash. “How much?”

And the spell is over. The sky looks grayer, somehow, the water dirtier. I’m no longer a tourist, I’m Samos, the girl who can provide a fix for the right fee. I have responsibilities, and responsibilities cost money. “Sure,” I say, unzipping the pack and reaching in for a small bag of tablets. “My stuff’s good. I’ll be back here every day this week, around the same time if you or any of your friends are running low.”

He nods enthusiastically and hands over the cash without asking again how much. I take a few notes and hand him the rest back with his pills. Then I stand without looking at him and turn to walk away.

And almost collide with Val.

***

I want to get away from him.

And I want to stay with him forever.

He’s an anchor in the chaos of my life, and a reflection in the water that shows me what I really am.

Literally a few seconds ago, I sold amphetamines to a businessman. And now here I am standing beside the man who told me last night that he loved me.

“Hey,” he says, a grin playing on his lips as he wraps an arm around my shoulder. “What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“N—no, I—” What am I supposed to say? Should I lie to him? I don’t want to lie to him, I want to tell him the truth, but I want the truth to be something different. Without thinking, I turn and glance at the man I just sold to as he walks away down the promenade, and when I look back at Val his eyes have darkened. “Valiant, I—”

“I know that man. He works for me. What’s been going on?”

“H—he wanted…” Why are the words so difficult? He wanted drugs. I sold them to him. It’s what I do.

And I see the realization dawn in Val’s face. He knows what I am. He’s going to tell me to go, to get out of his life, that he never wants to see me again. And who can blame him? We might have both started out the same, but he’s clearly made something of himself since then. I brace myself for the hurtful words, ready to go back to being nothing. Nobody. Unloved.

Instead, his grip tightens on my shoulder and he nods. “Whatever you have left, I’ll pay you three times what it’s worth if you toss the bag in the river right now.”


Tags: Aria Cole, Mila Crawford Romance