Libby
Hunger wakes me back up after the air fills with the scent of food. Is that bacon? It must be. Coffee?
The bed is musty and messed up, with the sheet pulled back from the corner of the mattress and blankets on the floor. As I slide to the end, I realize I am in sort of a predicament. No clothes. No underwear. Not even a pair of shoes.
Okay. Time to get the situation under control.
My handbag is sitting on the corner of the dresser, and with a smile I realize one of my rescuers must have left it here for me. That is so thoughtful.
Digging around, I’m happy to find that my cell phone is still in it. Ty didn’t make off with that too, and I still have 40 percent charge.
And Mona did not even text. I can’t believe it.
I smash the avatar of her face with my thumb and wait for the call to connect. After a stupidly long time, it goes to voicemail. Oh no. No way. I try to reconnect the call and wait, determined to keep calling until she picks up.
Finally, I hear her on the other end, sleepy and annoyed.
“What time is it?”
“I don’t care what time it is! Where were you?”
“Excuse me?”
I give her a couple seconds to wake up or sit up or whatever it is that she needs to do. Besides, I didn’t actually plan out what I was going to say. Slowly, I start again.
“You said you were coming back for me,” I remind her bitterly.
“Oh, yeah, right,” she chuckles, her voice throaty and satisfied.
I am 100 percent certain she is not wearing any clothes right now. Carson is probably right there, listening in to every word.
“Mona! You said you were coming back for me!”
“I heard you the first time, Jesus!” she snaps back, sounding slightly more awake. “I got busy, okay? Maybe had a little bit too much to drink. Why are you yelling at me first thing in the morning?”
“Because. You. Said. You. Were. Coming. Back.”
“Yeah, well, obviously it didn’t work out that way,” she snaps. “But you’re talking to me now… so, how did it go? How much money did you make?”
Oh, the money. I didn’t even think about that till now.
“Nothing,” I hiss.
“What? What are you talking about?”
I stand there and shake my head for a few seconds, overwhelmed by the sick feeling that suddenly clenches my stomach.
“I made a couple hundred? Like you thought? And then Ty went through my purse and found my ID.”
“Wait, what?” she yelps, suddenly wide-awake. “Slow down. What the fuck did he do? Start at the beginning!”
“I don’t even fucking know! One minute I was doing my thing, or whatever that lingerie show is supposed to be. The next thing I know, Ty is waving my ID around, talking about how he’s going to call the cops on me unless I do some kind of special work for him.”
“Jesus!” she hisses.
“Do you know anything about this? What kind of work is he talking about, Mona?”
I hear her mutter under her breath, making some uncomfortable noises.