Love the Way You Lie (Stripped 1)

I blink. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. That’s Candy’s routine. I know something’s eating you. And I know you left early last night. Some guy get fresh?”

Yeah, some guy had gotten fresh. But it had happened before and never affected me like this. It’s a good sign that she doesn’t know what happened though. It means Blue probably collected the money and made excuses for me. I’ll owe him one now. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

Her expression is knowing—and sympathetic. It’s the sympathy that hurts the most. “If you want to talk about it…”

I don’t want to talk about Kip and how strange he made me feel. Lola doesn’t even know why I’m here, who I’m running from—and I want to keep it that way. She doesn’t know any of my secrets.

“Where’s Candy?” I say instead.

“If you want to talk about it,” she says more sternly, “I’m here. The offer stands. And anyway, maybe there’s something going around, because Candy didn’t show today either.”

But Lola and I both know there isn’t any real sickness. “Did she call in?”

“No, but you know Candy.”

I do know Candy. I know she sometimes goes home with guys who promise her a good time, even though Ivan has rules about that. I know for Candy a good time means alcohol or drugs or both. It’s a dangerous game she plays, but I can’t judge. I just worry. “Maybe we can stop by after our shift.”

Lola snorts. “And get attacked in that fucking rat trap she lives in? No, thanks. I’d rather get attacked here. At least then I get paid.”

All the girls live in crappy places, but Candy’s place is actually the worst. Part of the ceiling in the hallway has just caved in, and there are always guys sitting in the stairwells. It looks more like an abandoned building that squatters use.

I kind of can’t believe she pays to live there. “Maybe if she doesn’t show up tomorrow, we’ll go.”

“She’d better show up tomorrow. Ivan’s already pissed.”

Shit shit shit.

Dread forms a large knot in my stomach. Ivan is our boss, and the second-scariest man I’ve ever met. Maybe Blue did tell on me. Though Ivan doesn’t visit often, and it seemed weird that he’d come just because I’d left early. And also acted strange with a customer, running out before getting paid. But even if I wasn’t the reason for his visit, I still might get in trouble now that he’s here.

Another part of me tensed in anticipation. Maybe he had information for me.

“Ivan’s here?”

“Just talked to him in his office.” Lola winks. “Oh, did I not mention? He wants to see you.”

* * *

If t

he Grand is the murky underwater, then the basement office is the sea bottom, far enough down that no light can reach. The railing keeps me from tripping and falling down the stairs. At the small landing, I knock on the door and wait.

There’s a framed painting of the Grand hanging on the wall. Its brick was once a deep, startling red. For some reason, the painting hasn’t faded, entombed here in the basement. But the real brick did fade. It turned dark the way blood does when it dries. That’s all the building is to the city now—a scab.

A minute passes, and then I hear Ivan inside. “Enter.”

When I go inside, it’s the opposite of a stage. There are no spotlights to blind me. Just a dim stillness to wade through. The room is mostly unfinished, with a concrete floor and exposed vents from the ceiling. It’s the kind of place where I wouldn’t be surprised to find a person hanging in chains in the corner. A dungeon.

There have never been chains down here. I have an overactive imagination.

Or maybe a good memory, of a different time and place.

“Mr. Kosta,” I say.

“Sit.” He doesn’t look up from the paper he’s reading.

I’m not sure how the small lamp provides enough light to see by, but he’s absorbed in his work. Then his gaze flicks to me, and I understand. Because his pale blue eyes are like spotlights, making me feel exposed.