Jerry took a swig of his beer and shrugged. “The one with the big fucking bow on her head.”
Chapter 2
“Places, everyone!”
Bethany rushed to take her place on the stage. Her lines were the last thing on her mind. Her article for the paper where she was doing her internship was what occupied her thoughts today. It was due in just a few days, and she was nowhere near finishing. It was just one of the many things she’d been trying not to stress about these last couple of days. Every break the producer had them take during rehearsal, she worked on it on her laptop, instead of memorizing her lines.
“Okay, so we take it from when Iona walks in.”
Bethany’s secondary role as Iona in the stage version of Pretty in Pink was a far cry from her previous roles in Hollywood. But then this second-rate theater in old downtown Las Vegas was also nothing compared to the theaters in Tinseltown where she’d previously graced the stage.
She didn’t care. Bethany could at least hold her head up high knowing that she was not only still doing what she loved for a living but also paying her debts—all of them, without the help of anyone else. Yawning, she frowned. If only this job alone were enough to pay it all. She’d recently landed a more impressive gig at another small theater, but it still wasn’t enough. It was in the less prestigious part of town, but she reminded herself that’s how it needed to be for now. Between that, her internship, research, and her other part-time job, sleep was a luxury she indulged in less and less these days.
They took it from the top. Bethany fumbled her lines a few times but finally made it through the rehearsal. She gathered her things and rushed out.
Her life had become one big scuttle after another. From rehearsals to her internship to her other job, and the shows took up most of her evenings. Her understudy took Bethany’s place as Iona only twice a week. That was when Bethany put in most of her hours for her internship.
Often Bethany was forced to leave the shows in such a hurry she left in costume, as she had the night of the speed date. She was writing an article on the complexities of dating in this day and age. She needed to research at least five different types of acceptable socializing congregations. Two of them could not involve the Internet. What a joke that had been.
Bethany thought of one of the guys she’d met that night. The only one whose name she didn’t even get. She actually agreed with him when he said it was stupid. If he hadn’t been so damn cocky, she might have told him so and gotten his name, if not more.
At first she’d been surprised to see someone as good-looking as him there. And to say he was good-looking was putting it mildly. She’d noticed him from the moment he walked in, and she wasn’t the only one, either. Some of the women there were so loud and obvious she almost felt sorry for them. Almost. The woman at the table next to her who actually gasped when he walked into the room was just obnoxious. She even thanked the sweet baby Jesus as if he had anything to do with bringing a man that attractive there that night. Bethany had to wonder if he told the other woman how stupid he thought the whole speed dating thing was, too. Had he sat there and told each of them how he felt about being there or was she the only one?
Admittedly she’d been excited when she saw it was her turn to sit with him. Up close he was even better-looking than when she’d first seen him across the room. His dark eyes had a playfulness combined with a sultry gaze she’d had a hard time looking away from. The man even had a perfectly sexy cleft chin to complete his already handsome face. Problem was he obviously knew it. He hadn’t even bothered to shave, and he still pulled off the look better than any man she’d ever seen. He oozed self-confidence. She wasn’t at all surprised when he told her he was just there for his friend. A man like that probably had women knocking down his door. The last thing she needed was a smooth-talking, womanizing man in her life. In fact the last thing she needed was a man, period. Bethany could barely keep up with her schedule as it was. There was no room for dating. But most important, her life was already too damn complicated. Getting involved with anyone would not only complicate things further, it had the potential to wreak havoc.
In spite of all that, here she was thinking about him. Again. She frowned as she walked up the stairs to her small apartment. Lugging her heavy bag of groceries, she huffed up the two flights of stairs. The elevator was permanently broken, and the landlord offered no apologies.
She had to remind herself that though not all her troubles were in the clear, some of the most important ones were, like her aunt’s health. She was better now, and though everything else was still a mess, she should be grateful. She was. But did the grocery bag have to weigh so damn much?
Dropping the bag on her counter, she rolled her sore shoulder and proceeded to put the orange juice, yogurt, and cold cuts in the fridge.
The loud knocking on her door made her jump. Only one person she knew would knock on her door that way. The rent was due, and Mr. Hadley was here to collect the moment he saw her get home.
She walked over to the pantry where she kept her secret stash of cash, in a locked box inside an empty cereal box, and unlocked it, pulling out the envelope with the amount for her rent. Mr. Hadley knocked again. “I’m coming!” she called out as she hid the smaller box in the cereal box again.
The stench of cigarette mixed with alcohol and sweat hit her nose immediately as she opened the door. The usual unshaven, filthy-T-shirt-wearing Mr. Hadley peered at her, then suspiciously over her shoulder. “You got company?”
“No,” she said, unable to keep her hand from automatically covering her nose as casually as she could.
“Rent’s due.” His beady eyes were back on her, and he held his hand out.
She handed him the envelope, and he counted the bills. Then, as he always did, he pulled out the prefilled receipt from his grimy back pocket. “Here’s your receipt.” He handed her the damp piece of paper. She tried not to grimace as she opened it with her fingertips to make sure everything was correct. “And let me know if you see anyone snooping around here looking suspicious.”
Immediately she forgot about the nasty receipt and looked at him, the alarm instantly at her gut. “Why? There’s been someone snooping?”
Mr. Hadley shrugged, already starting to walk away. “Maybe, maybe not. You know Myrtle from the third floor. Seems the pilot light in that woman’s head is snuffed out half the time, but she swears she’s seen a man snooping ’round here. Said she even thought she saw someone looking in her window.” He cackled loudly walking away. “Like that old hag has to worry about sexual predators peeping in her window.” He cackled even louder as he turned the corner toward the stairs.
Bethany stood there frozen for a moment, her stomach plunging. “There’s no way,” she whispered to herself in an attempt to calm her nerves.
Hurrying back into her apartment, she closed and locked the door. With the panic beginning to simmer, she rushed to her book bag, knelt, and pulled out her cell phone. No texts or messages.
The rule was they only messaged or called each other during the week if it was an emergency. She chewed her fingernail, wondering if she should alarm them for no real reason. Myrtle was pretty wacky. The woman told stories of being abducted by aliens when she was a young girl, for crying out loud. Still, her gut told her she should at least check whether anyone had heard anything.
She dialed and held her breath waiting. “Beth?”
The sweet voice on the other end made Bethany smile and let out a breath. “Yes, it’s me.”
“I think I’m starting to get used to this phone.”
Bethany exhaled softly, already relieved by how calm Stella sounded. “Good. I told you, you would.”
“So why are you calling? Something wrong?”
Bethany walked over to the sofa and sat down. “No, but my landlord said another tenant in the building saw someone snooping around here suspiciously. It made me nervous. I wanted to check and see if anything’s up. Have you heard anything?”
Bethany heard t
he heavy sigh on the other end and braced herself. “No. Things have actually been pretty quiet.”
“Hmm.” Bethany chewed her fingernail again. “Nothing new or unusual?”
“No. Nothing at all.”
Bethany held her breath before asking the next question, as she always did. “Has the bank called?”
She heard her sister exhale, “Yes, twice, but I didn’t answer.”
“Good.” Bethany let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll have some of the money soon. I promise.”
“Bethany, they said they won’t take just part of it. They want it all.”
“No, don’t worry. I asked around. As long as we in good faith try to pay at least part of it, they have to accept it. Okay? You promise me you won’t, you know . . . freak out?”
“I promise.”
“Good. I’ll call you this weekend. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
She hung up and sat there on the sofa letting her head rest on the back pillow, looking up just in time to see the small roach crawl across the ceiling. “Eeeuw!” She cringed, jumping off the sofa to go look for the broom.
After swatting at the gross bug and squealing when it fell, then jumping and stomping on it a few times, she heard the banging from the downstairs apartment. Of course her apartment would be right above Mr. Hadley’s. As exasperated and grossed out as she had felt a few minutes ago, she couldn’t help giggling now when the memory of how Trinity had explained it suddenly came to her. Trinity was her tall, blond voluptuous neighbor with the southern drawl from across the hall. Her occupation had been somewhat of a mystery until just recently. Though Bethany had pretty much figured that one out on her own.
The first day she’d met Trinity was the day Bethany moved in the few things she owned. Trinity came over to introduce herself. She was really nice and gave Bethany a few tips about the building, like who to stay away from and never to go into the laundry room after dark.
“The light bulb in there is permanently broken, and it’s not safe to get caught in that dungeon at night,” she’d warned.
Trinity was also the one who warned her about getting a lockbox to keep her valuables in and hiding it somewhere no one like a snoopy landlord would think to look. Trinity told her not only did Mr. Hadley smell badly, she’d sooner trust a politician than trust that creepy old man not to go through her apartment when she wasn’t home. She said she even hid her unmentionables for fear he might go into her apartment when she wasn’t there and sniff them.
Bethany giggled again remembering how Trinity had literally shivered when she told her. At the time Bethany was hardly laughing; instead the dread of what her reality had become had sunk in fast. She actually cried those first few nights she slept in this apartment. But she forced herself to snap out of it, and after living here for months now she’d decided it wasn’t too bad.
She’d never get used to the roaches, but she was getting used to her neighbors. None were without their quirks, but so far they had been harmless. And she didn’t judge Trinity for doing what she did for a living. However, Bethany did draw the line there. Several times, after seeing Bethany drag her tired ass up those stairs and talk about having a ton of homework to finish, Trinity had tried talking her into quitting all her jobs and taking up her line of work. Even though Trinity didn’t stand on a street corner, and, she argued, being an escort wasn’t the same as being a prostitute, Bethany knew firsthand that it was exactly the same. Trinity insisted that Bethany’s adorable yet “curvaceously sexy” body would drive the men crazy, and it was so much more money working far fewer hours. Trinity even assured Bethany that if she wanted to she could stipulate she wouldn’t do anything sexual before she was fixed up with these men.
“Some are just old, arrogant fools who’ll pay a good fold to have you hang on their arm as they make their way through the high-roller lounge at these fancy casinos.”
Bethany didn’t need to get into the specifics of why there was no way she’d even consider it. “No, thanks” had been her only response.
She’d break her back and work herself to the ground the good old-fashioned and self-respecting way before she’d stoop to that level. Desperation had already driven her to do things she was not proud of, but even her aunt insisted it was for good reason. It might be unethical, illegal even, but at least she could still look into the mirror with her dignity intact. Well almost intact, but at least she’d had the sense each time when it counted most to walk away. Desperate or not, she stuck to her guns and held on to what was left of her self-respect even when she knew how much it would cost her.
The knock on the door startled her. She froze in place, waiting for the sign that she didn’t have to panic. Then it came. The most pathetic little whistle she’d ever heard. She was so relieved she laughed as she hopped off the sofa and walked over to the door. Before Trinity, she’d never even heard of a person who couldn’t whistle, but her neighbor was adamant. Bethany suggested that with all the weirdos in the building, they should have a signal when they came to each other’s door. Since Bethany had laughed so much at Trinity’s first attempts at whistling, now Trinity was determined to get it right.
Peeking through the peephole just to be sure, she smiled when she saw Trinity standing there, all done up as usual, holding a bag of what was probably food.
“Hey!” she said, stepping back as Trinity walked right in as if she lived there. “Your whistling is getting so much better.”
As pathetic as it still sounded, it was actually better than her very first attempts.
“I told ya it would,” she said, holding her head up proudly. “Ain’t nothin’ I’ve ever put my mind to that I didn’t get right eventually. I broughtcha Chinese,” she announced as she marched into the small kitchen. “And not that fast-food kind either. Mr. Bloomington loves P. F. Chang’s, and I ordered stuff to go.”
Bethany’s mouth practically watered from the smell of the food Trinity began unloading from the bags. “Oh, my God, that smells so good.” Bethany picked up one of the boxes and opened it, immediately digging in with a fork. “Thank you so much.” She barely got the words out, her mouth was so full. Then she laughed and had to cover her mouth before she spat anything out.
“I knew you’d be starving. Girl, I’m telling you, all you need is a couple of Mr. Bloomingtons lined up a few nights a week, and you’d be making more than you do now with them three jobs of yours. Gawd, I don’t know how you do it.” Trinity leaned dramatically over the crowded little counter.
Mr. Bloomington was one of Trinity’s regulars. She said he was just a lonely old man willing to pay her to keep him company and to join him for dinner. Unlike some of her other, richer clients, he could only afford her twice a month, and their time together consisted mainly of a movie and then dinner out. “You poor girl,” she pouted, standing up straight again. “You must be so exhausted. You know Carl,” she drawled, crunching up her nose. “He doesn’t want me callin’ him Mr. Bloomington no more. Me and him only hold hands on our dates, and I just peck him a little itty bitty kiss when we say hello and again when we say good-bye. I’m sure you can live with that.”
Bethany continued to inhale her food, nodding without even thinking.
“You can?” Trinity smiled excited.
Stopping mid-chew, Bethany shook her head, wiping her mouth. “No! No. I couldn’t.” She wouldn’t make Trinity feel bad by telling her how she already knew that was something she couldn’t do, no matter what the amount of money. “That’s just not me,” she offered after seeing Trinity frown. “You’re just much more social than I am. I’m a little shy, I guess.”
That couldn’t be further from the truth. Bethany lived for the spotlight, and she could act, dance, and perform like nobody’s business, but no amount of acting could cover up how she’d feel about being fondled or even touched by someone she didn’t want touching her. That’s exactly why she was living the life she was now. No matter how exhausting her life was, she’d take it any day ov
er giving up the self-respect she’d sacrificed so much to hold on to.
Shaking her head, Trinity walked toward the door. “Aren’t you gonna eat?” Bethany asked, glancing down at the other two unopened boxes of Chinese food.
“No, honey bee, that’s all for you.” Trinity placed her hand on her flat stomach. “I’ve already had dinner, and I really need to start watching what I eat. Maybe I’ll drop by that Zumba class of yours one of these days.”
“You should.” Bethany smiled. “I can get you free passes. It’s fun. I promise.”
Trinity made a pained face. “I’ll let you know.”
Bethany thanked her again for the food, and after locking the door, grabbed her book bag off the floor. She had that article to finish.
After firing up her laptop, she sat there still eating out of her Chinese food container and went through her emails quickly. She had a few from some of the guys she had met at the speed date. There was another one from Jerry, bringing her mind back to his friend. Last week Jerry had asked if she wanted to get together this Friday night for drinks. She’d told him the truth: She was working late. When he’d asked where she worked, she told him about the place where she’d just recently started her new gig, leaving out what her role exactly was in it, but she did mention he might enjoy the show. He told her he’d have to check it out sometime, but that was it.
This time his email was a short follow-up just to say he hoped she’d had a good week and to let him know when she’d be free to get together.
“Never,” she grumbled, closing out her email and not even responding.
Sitting back visualizing Jerry’s friend again, she sighed deeply. It sucked that because of her crappy circumstances she wasn’t free to socialize like the rest of the girls she knew in school and even in her theater gig. She was always overhearing them talk about going out dancing and hanging out at the casinos. But Bethany had to stay focused. Things could very easily fall apart. Already she was going to have to figure out how to get more hours waitressing. She needed more money fast. She couldn’t let anything screw up her carefully laid plans. Especially a sexy stud who no doubt would be interested in only one thing. As much as he protested that the speed date was a dumb way to meet someone to date, she’d caught his eyes wandering to the only thing he did seem interested in that night—her cleavage. No, thanks.