Page 94 of The Complete Truth Duet
“Do you, um…know how I could get in touch with him? He told me to meet him here, but I didn’t get his number.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as panic flooded in my system. “Shit! He’s coming here? Today?”
“Um… Well, not today, today. He just gave me this address and told me to come over whenever I…um… had the chance. So here I am.”
I blew out a loud breath, patting my chest as if I could manually slow my racing heart. “Jesus. Don’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry,” she whispered sheepishly.
Up close, she was even prettier. She was older than I was, maybe thirty, but she had good skin and a nice, subtle hand with makeup. She wasn’t the kind of beautiful that would grace the pages of a magazine, but she was definitely pretty enough to think that maybe she could. The thought made me cringe.
“Can I ask what kind of business you have with Dante?”
“Oh, um…” Her eyes lit. “I answered an ad online—”
“For a model?” I finished for her.
“Yes! Exactly.”
I sighed. How the hell he managed to find this many desperate women was beyond me. And one that looked like this? Forget it.
“Listen. You seem nice. So I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.” I leaned in close and lowered my voice to a whisper. “It’s not what you think. It’s a…scam. Go home and forget about it. You do not want any part of this.”
I started to turn away, but she caught my arm.
“I got nowhere to go. I used the last of my money I had to catch a cab over here today. Look, I know what happens here. I got clients of my own. Rich ones. I’m just shifting teams. That’s all.”
Jerking my arm away, I stared at her in mock awe. “You’re from another stable?”
She nodded repeatedly.
“You got johns of your own?”
She nodded again.
“And Dante gave you this address?”
More with the bobble head impression.
I eyed her warily, searching for the truth in her big doe eyes.
There was none to be found.
“You’re so full of shit. We don’t run that kind of business here. Get the fuck off my property.”
“Okay, fine! I’m not from another…stable. But I’ve got experience.”
I rolled my eyes, giving her my back as I started toward the stairs. My phone started ringing, and after I’d dug it from my back pocket, Manuel’s number showed on the screen.
“No. No. No. Wait!” she cried.
But I ignored her, knowing better than to let his call go to voicemail. “Hello.”
“She’s fucking pregnant!” he boomed.
Wannabe-supermodel Heidi Klum followed me up, whispering pleas with every step.
“Who?” I asked Manuel, stopping on the second floor to snap my finger and point to the parking lot. Then I mouthed a stern, “Get out.”
She lifted her hands in prayer. “Please. Just hear me out.”
Manuel kept ranting in my ear. “I don’t fucking know. Whatever the hell bitch you took to the doctor this morning.”
Shit. Lucy.
“Turn her out, Cora.”
“No, wait,” I breathed.
The woman’s face lit.
“Not you!” I hissed at her.
Manuel continued. “I fucking warned you. She’s gone. Tonight. And if I have to come over there and do it myself, I swear to God, I’m taking River home with me.”
My head spun as all the blood drained from my face. I reached out, grabbing the railing to balance myself. “No. No. I’ll take care of it. I swear. Lucy’s gone. Right now.”
“Good. Now, thanks to your stupidity, I’m down a girl. So I don’t give a fuck if you have to hit the street yourself to make it happen, but I want double the haul tonight. You fucking owe me that.”
I didn’t know how he could possibly blame me for a prostitute getting pregnant, especially not when I went to such great lengths to make sure they all stayed on birth control and had regular access to condoms. But Manuel never needed a reason to blame me for anything.
“I… It’s a Tuesday night. The girls can’t possibly double the haul. Give me to the end of the week. I promise I’ll make it happen.”
“How old is River now? Remind me again?”
It wasn’t a question. And I heard his threat loud and clear.
My eyes flared wide, bile climbing up the back of my throat. “I’ll make it happen. Double the haul.”
“Tonight,” he seethed.
“Tonight. I swear.”
I held the phone to my ear long after he’d hung up. I had no idea where I was going to get that money. Tuesdays only brought in around three grand, which—less the thirty percent the girls got to keep—left me in the hole for over two thousand dollars. If it was a Friday or Saturday, no problem. The girls took down ten times that on a weekend. But there was no fluffing the books on a Tuesday. Not to mention, I was already down four girls, Lucy—poor fucking Lucy—making it five.
