As I snuggle into my hoodie and the thin blanket they provided, I close my eyes, praying that nothing happens in my sleep. But no matter how long I lay there, sleep doesn't come. There are too many sounds around me. Wet coughs echo around the room. Babies cry in distress as their mothers try to soothe them. Hushed conversations between others linger.
Finding a clock on the wall, I watch the secondhand tick by slowly, as sleep finally takes me.
AFEW WEEKS HAVE PASSED, and I’ve gotten into a little routine. I'm officially out of what little money I had left, so to survive I panhandle. I make sure to be back at curfew every night so that I'm guaranteed a bed. We have to leave during the day, and beds are first come, first serve, but thankfully they favor mothers with children and young women overgrown men.
Every morning I take my bag and head to the bathroom, doing my best to stay clean. I then head over to the soup kitchen down the street with my three-meal-a-day tickets. They don't give you much to eat, but it’s enough to survive.
Thankfully, today is beautiful, and I decide to find a new place to panhandle for the day. I only need enough for some shampoo and a bar of soap, maybe even some cheap coffee. Getting money this way hasn't been too hard. Looking like I do definitely helps capture people’s attention. My long black silky hair and ice-blue eyes have almost been more of a curse than a blessing, though.
I’ve had a few men tell me I’d make a fortune if only I was working the street corners rather than standing out here begging for money, but I have zero interest in being a prostitute. I’d rather die than sell my body to nasty ass disease-ridden fuckers.
After a long day working the streets, I take the fifty dollars that I’ve earned today and head to the nearest grocery store. When I come out of the store, I’m stopped by a man. A well-dressed man who looks like he should be on the cover of a magazine. His short dark chocolate hair is nicely styled, and he’s wearing a light gray suit with polished black dress shoes.
I give him a once over. “Can I help you?” I ask, raising a brow and wondering what the man standing in my way wants.
He flashes me a smile that shows all his pearly white teeth. “Hi, I’m Triver.” He introduces himself, holding his hand out for me to shake. I don't. I look at it, then up at him.
“And your point is?” I snark, growing annoyed. I just want to go back to the shelter before curfew, and this guy is standing in my way of a warm place to sleep tonight.
Still smiling, he drops his hand to his side, finally getting the hint that I won't be shaking it. “I’ve seen you around a few times on my way to work. The streets are no place for a beautiful young lady such as yourself. I have a job opportunity for you if you're interested,” he says.
I narrow my eyes, not sure what to think of this good-looking man, who's randomly offering me a job. “What kind of job?” I ask.
“I own a little bar on the other side of the city, it's called Diamonds. We cater to a wealthier clientele. We are looking for some people to fill a few positions. Now I'm guessing you're not 21 yet?” he asks.
“No...18,” I hesitate.
“No worries, you may not be able to bartend, but you would do well as a hostess or waitress. I can guarantee you will get good tips.”
Standing there, I think over his offer. I could keep standing out here all day in hopes of getting enough money to buy a decent meal, or I could work for this man at his bar. It sounds way too good to be true to randomly fall into my lap.
“What’s the catch? Why are you randomly offering me this job?” I ask, tilting my head to the side, trying to figure out this man's ulterior motive.
“I don't like seeing young women suffer. The streets are a dangerous place. I don't think I could live with myself if something bad happened to you. You could make enough money to get off the streets and into a place of your own in under a month.”
I mean, my life can't get much worse than it is right now. If it means I can get my own place and a steady cash flow, it’s worth a shot.
“Alright, I’ll give it a test run, but I can't guarantee anything.”
He gives me another beaming smile. “Perfect. Here’s the address. Come by around ten tonight, and we can start you right away. I'll have a uniform waiting for you,” he says, handing me a card that says “Triver Berk” on it with the address, number, and name of the club.
He says goodbye, and we go our separate ways.
IT’S ALMOST TEN, ANDI find myself standing in front of a dark building. For a club on a Friday night, it seems pretty dead to me. No lights, no sounds, not even people walking around.
I try to look in the windows of the building but can't see anything because they are all tinted. I decide to walk around the building to see if there is another entrance.
Luckily, when I round the corner, I see a few men standing outside a door leading into the same building. I make my way towards them with caution. Nothing good ever came from a pretty girl being alone in an alley with grown men.
“Excuse me,” I interrupt the men, who are laughing and chatting away. They all look like wealthy men. Nicely tailored suits, elegantly styled hair, and watches on their wrists.
“Well, who do we have here?” The one with brown hair says, as he ogles my body like a pervert. I get the sudden urge to turn and run, but I need this job. I can't live on the streets for the rest of my life. At some point, I'm gonna get kidnapped or worse, wind up dead.
“I’m here for a job, I'm here to see Triver? Do you know him?” I ask.
“Oooh, Triver sent you here,” he says with a creepy grin. There’s something about the way he reacts that sets me on edge. I have to get out of here. I don’t feel safe anymore.
“You know what, never mind. I'll come back another time,” I say, turning around to leave. But, before I can make it two steps, the blond one grabs my arm so tight that it's gonna leave bruises.