Page 5 of Mating Theory
Creaks from the stairs make her scamper away. I straighten, holding my plastic fork like a weapon until spiky blue hair peeks over the ledge.
Ky has this lanky walk that makes him look carefree, even though I know better. He’s younger than me, but he’s been on the streets longer. He taught me what to charge, how to protect myself. Most of all he taught me how to please the men.
“Something smells good,” he says, slinging one leg over one of the old desk chairs. It creaks beneath his weight, even though he’s skinny as a string bean.
I hand over the hot dog without getting up. “Saved one for you.”
He eats half in a single bite. And then the other half. His mouth is still full of dry sausage when he mumbles, “Some guys would pay money just to watch me do that.”
My cheeks flame. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Mr. Monopoly’s hostile takeover had some kind of urgent problem.” Some rich guy takes Ky to his penthouse for days at a time. He’s only been gone one night.
“How much did you get?”
He gives me a cheeky grin. “One thousand.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, someone was feeling generous. He probably bought and sold Boardwalk since I saw him last.” A slight frown. “He looked tired though.”
My chest constricts. “Don’t.”
“I’m not getting attached. Don’t worry. Just making sure the money train stays running. Besides, this will keep us flush in cat food for—what? Two weeks. You don’t have to work.”
“Don’t say that.”
“What? We have the money. So what’s the point in being miserable.”
“I’m not taking your money. I’ll hold my own weight.”
An eye roll. “It’s not like I suffered through it. Mr. Monopoly even sucks dick. Imagine that. I seriously doubt any of the assholes who take you into the alleyway are willing to return the favor. Don’t let pride keep you hungry.”
Don’t let pride keep you hungry. That’s something he’s said to me before.
Ky helped me so much. He’s the one who told me to stay near the Den. Other pimps and criminals don’t poach on Damon Scott’s turf. And he doesn’t take a cut from the whores on his street corner. That makes it a prime piece of real estate.
“I’m not going to be hungry. I’m going to work. Like you.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the doubt is clear on his handsome face. He found me huddling in basement stairs after my very first john, shaking from shock and horror and pain. I don’t think I would have survived the night without him. Since then I’ve been unable to do it again. I really would let pride make me starve. My life isn’t worth so much, after all.
Ky is only a couple years younger than me, but he’s wiser by centuries. He studies me with soft brown eyes. “It’s not always like that. You pick them like I taught you.”
Rich. Horny. Those are the primary things he looks for. What you never want, he says, is someone who looks bored. Uninterested. That’s someone who’s gonna have to hurt you to get off, he says. “I’m going to. Tomorrow night, I’m going out. I already decided.”
He reaches into his back pocket. A handful of hundreds lands on the blankets in front of me. “Go out. Don’t go out. I don’t fucking care.”
I stare at the money with my stomach roiling. God, it would be so easy to let him take care of me. But I can’t fool myself. He works for that money exactly as hard as I would have to. Maybe more. It’s not right to let him do it for me.
Rich. Horny. Like the guy I found on the roof two weeks ago. Except he hadn’t wanted me. He’d given me money. Like Ky. Pity money. I nudge the money off my blankets with my toes. If I get any closer, I’ll probably snatch it up. “Tomorrow.”
Chapter Three
Sutton
The Den is a gentleman’s club, which doesn’t mean there are strippers. Backroom deals and plenty of alcohol. A high-end bar for the elite of the city.
At least, there aren’t usually strippers.
I’m not sure what Hugo has in store for this bachelor party. I should have been the one planning it, but he’s my friend, and he knew that I couldn’t manage it myself. Well, I definitely couldn’t have hosted a goddamn party. I’m not even positive I’ll be able to attend it.
“Coward,” I mutter when I’m still standing on the pavement.
I should be inside the building, happy that two people I love have found their happy ending. I’m not jealous. That would be too easy. I’m despairing. I’m lonely. I’m goddamn afraid that I’m always going to be this way. There’s something inside me that doesn’t know how to love, not truly, not deep. And Christopher? Harper? They could tell that about me.
