Page 13 of Dirty (Chicago Underground 5)
“So you’ve never really been sore?” Claire demanded. “It never really hurts?”
“Not the way you’re thinking. Not with someone who cares about you.”
Allie’s eyes clouded over, and I wondered whether she really believed that. If so, she had healed more than I realized. More than I had. Years ago, our friend had hurt her—raped her. We had both been shell-shocked. He had cared about her. Not enough, though. Not in the right way. No, I still didn’t understand. Who could comprehend evil? Who understood what made friends and fathers do what they did? Claire’s quiet questions disrupted my thoughts.
“How do you know guys won’t go too far? How can you trust them?”
Two pairs of wide eyes blinked at me. I laughed softly. “You’re asking me? I wouldn’t know. That’s why I collect payment before, not after.”
Allie kicked me under the table.
“Ow.” I turned to Claire. “I take more abuse from this one.”
Allie sobered. “Yeah. That’s probably true.”
“It was a joke.”
“I know.” She went to stand at the window, looking out over the rolling hills of Philip’s backyard.
I followed. “Hey, don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being like anything, except maybe guilty as hell.”
She had always blamed herself for my prostitution, as if she were responsible for planting the tree just because she had eaten its fruit. She wasn’t. The roots of my shame ran too deep for that. “Nothing that happened to me was your fault. We’ve been over this.”
“No, you said it wasn’t my fault. I disagreed.”
“We’ll agree to disagree. Are we going to argue or have girls’ night?”
“Is that not what we do on girls’ nights? I need a handbook or something.”
“I was thinking girlier. Like, way girlier.”
Allie stared at me blankly. “If you mean what I think you mean, you should know by now, I really don’t swing that way. Plus, I don’t think Colin would approve.”
I rolled my eyes, then pulled out the two cheap boxes of dye I’d had Adrian pick up at the drugstore. “I want to color my hair.?
??
“No,” Ella exclaimed. “I love your hair. It’s so pretty.”
Allie’s eyes narrowed a bit. Finally she nodded. “Okay. A new look, a new life.”
It did have a nice ring to it. The truth was, my hair was too distinctive. Too blonde, too bright. I’d stand right out in the club. Dull, slightly damaged brown ought to do the trick. And hey, if I was really lucky, we’d find a way out of this mess.
I smiled. “A new life.”
The chemicals burned my eyes, but the laughter and camaraderie were well worth it. I soaked it up, storing it away for some future time drearier than this. As Allie was leaving, for maybe the first time I leaned in for a hug. I felt her little jolt of surprise before she returned it. It felt like good-bye.
Chapter Seven
A cab dropped me off a few blocks from the club. Even from here, the bass could be heard like rolling thunder, vibrating the gravel on the sidewalk. Though this had ceased to be a good part of town a decade ago, most of the shops were still operating. A pharmacy, cash loans—but right now they were dark, closed for the night, encased in metal gates.
Only the pawnshop was open at this hour, because partygoers might pick up some ecstasy on the way. I slipped inside, withholding my wince as a loud doorbell rang out. The sickly sweet smell of pot assailed me. Clearly someone here was a fan of Mardi Gras; brightly colored plastic beads decorated the cluttered shelves like garlands.
Raine poked his head out. “Can I help you?”
I looked down, suddenly nervous. I had seen the man many times. How had I thought I could disguise myself like this? He would see right through me—and worse, expose my presence here if questions were asked later. But I’d met him in smoke-filled rooms, standing behind powerful men. I had been an accessory just like the watches in the glass cases.
