Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

“No food?” I asked.

He froze, his eyes flitting around nervously, searching for a good lie.

I didn’t give him the chance to lie to me, and rose to my feet. “It’s okay. I’m not hungry. I’m going to bed.” I was starving. I hadn’t had a morsel to eat since the donut that I’d treated myself to in the morning. I kissed Dad’s cheek, smelling alcohol and smoke on his breath. He avoided my eyes. As I headed out of the kitchen with my backpack, I saw him taking a beer out of the fridge. His dinner I assumed.

I put the new sheets on, then dropped the comforter and pillow on the mattress. I didn’t even have nightclothes. Instead I took out a t-shirt and a fresh pair of panties, before I lied down on the mattress. The new linen covered up the stale stench of the mattress with its chemical scent. I hadn’t seen a washing machine in the apartment, so I’d have to earn some money before I could have my stuff washed in a salon.

I closed my eyes, hoping I could fall asleep despite the rumbling of my stomach.

When I got up the next morning, I showered, trying not to look at anything too closely. I would have to give the bathroom and the rest of the apartment a good clean once I’d found a job. That had to be my top priority for now. I changed into the nicest things I owned, a flowery summer dress that reached my knees. Then I slipped on my flip-flops. It wasn’t an outfit that would get me any bonus points in a job interview but I didn’t have a choice. Dad was sleeping on the sofa in yesterday’s clothes. When I tried sneaking past him, he sat up. “Where are you going?”

“I want to look for a job around the area.”

He shook his head. He didn’t look very hung over. Perhaps at least alcohol wasn’t his problem. “There aren’t any respectable places around here.”

I didn’t tell him that no respectable place would ever hire me looking the way I did.

“In case you get the chance, perhaps you could buy some food?” Dad said after a moment.

I nodded, not saying anything. Swinging my backpack over my shoulder, I left the apartment. Unfortunately, Las Vegas winter decided to rear its ugly head today. It was bitingly cold in my summer clothes, and the promise of rain lay in the air. Dark clouds covered the sky.

I strode through the neighborhood for a while, taking in the shabby exteriors, and homeless people. I’d walked for ten minutes, closer to Downtown Las Vegas, when the first bar came into view, but I quickly realized that for a girl to work there, she had to be willing to get rid of her clothes. The next two bars hadn’t even opened yet and looked so shabby that I doubted there was any money to be made working in them. A wave of resentment washed over me. If Dad hadn’t made me spend all my money on bedding, I could have bought nice clothes and gone looking for a job close to the Strip, and not around here where the worth of a woman seemed linked to the way she could dance around a pole.

I knew the girls earned good money. Mother had been in contact with dancers in her better days before she’d started selling herself for a few bucks to truck drivers and worse.

I was beginning to lose hope and my head swam from lack of food. The cold wasn’t helping either. It was already around one in the afternoon and things didn’t look good. And then the sky opened up and it began raining. One fat drop after the other plopped down on me. Of course, I was out in sandals on the one day in December that it rained in Nevada. I closed my eyes for a moment. I didn’t really believe in any higher powers, but if someone or something was up there, he didn’t think too fondly of me.

The cold became more prominent as my dress stuck to my body. I shivered and rubbed my arms. I wasn’t sure how far from home I was but I had a feeling that I’d be down with a cold tomorrow, if I didn’t find shelter soon. The low hum of an engine drew my attention back to the street and to the car coming my way. It was an expensive German model, a Mercedes of some sort, black tinted windows, matt black varnish. Sleek and almost daunting.

My mother hadn’t been the kind of mother to warn me of getting into cars of strangers. She was the kind of mother who brought creepy strangers home because they paid her for sex. I was cold and hungry, and just over this city already. I wanted to get back into the warmth. I hesitated, then held out my arm and raised my thumb. The car slowed and came to a stop beside me. The way I looked I would have thought he’d drive right past me.