Chapter 1—Typical Night
I’m fucking annoyed.
I toss my keys on the counter and try not to sigh audibly. The blonde hooker in the tight red skirt drops a stupidly large purse next to my couch and turns to me with her hand on her hip. She smiles with lips that match her clothing and then goes back to snapping her chewing gum.
My vision blurs a little, and I have to place my hand on the counter to keep from swaying. I’m not sure when I last slept for more than an hour at a time; I only know it’s been far too long. I need sleep, and this is the only way.
“Yer a quiet one,” the hooker says. Her mouth opens and closes rapidly. I can see the little piece of red gum in contrast to her lipstick.
I have no idea what her name is. If I asked when I picked her up on the corner, I don’t remember her answer. The chewing was too distracting.
I stare at the countertop for a long moment, trying to focus my thoughts. The counter is dark grey granite, and it reminds me that I’m still not used to the new place. I had originally planned to move back into my old apartment near Lakeshore East Park, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I saw reminders everywhere. Now I’m only a couple of blocks away from there in a high-rise one-bedroom with a great view of the river. It’s not a big place, but I don’t need a lot of room.
It’s only me after all.
“So, whatcha lookin’ for tonight?”
I pull a beer out of the refrigerator without responding. As soon as I’ve popped off the cap, I realize I don’t want it, and offer it to the hooker instead. Hopefully, she’ll discard the gum to drink the beer.
She doesn’t. Instead, she downs the beer and goes right back to chewing.
“Do ya have any music?” she inquires. “I could dance for ya.”
Her voice reminds me of a caricature out of an Edward G. Robinson movie or maybe an I Love Lucy episode. It’s high-pitched and whiny, regardless of the words she utters. It grates on my nerves. I obviously should have talked to her before picking her up instead of just looking at her ass.
“I’m tired,” I finally say as I rub my eyes.
“Well, let’s getcha ta bed then!”
The hooker steps up to me and places her hands on my chest. She trails her fingers down to my stomach before lifting her head and pressing her lips to mine. I respond automatically, taking her tongue into my mouth and gripping her backside with my hand. I can taste the beer laced with cinnamon, and it’s rather revolting. When she reaches down to palm my dick, I grab her wrist.
“Come on,” I say. “This way.”
I end all physical contact with her and head for my bedroom. She follows, and I can still hear the smacking of her gum.
“Spit that shit out of your mouth.” I point at a small, lined trashcan next to the bed.
“You got it,” she says.
It sounds like she’s hocking a loogie when she spits it out. I can’t help but sigh out loud this time as I close my eyes and shake my head a bit. Maybe I’d do better hooking up with a girl in a bar rather than a streetwalker. It’s cheaper, at least. Then again, I could end up with someone who expects me to call her in the morning instead of just handing her cash on the way out the door. I don’t need that kind of complication.
I pull my shirt over my head and toss it at the laundry hamper. The garment hits the top and falls to the ground beside it. Normally, that would bother me enough to go pick it up and place it inside, but I’m too tired to care. I waver a little as I unbuckle my belt and pull it through the loops of my jeans.
The hooker comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. She runs her hands up my chest as she presses her cheek to my back. I place my hands over hers and turn around to face her. She places her mouth on mine immediately.
When she grips my ass with both hands, I pull back just a bit. I’m feeling dizzy, and I don’t think I can stand much longer. When she grabs for my dick again, I push her away.
She looks up at me with slightly narrowed eyes.
“Look,” I say as I take her chin in my hand, “I really am tired. Right now, I just want to go to sleep, you got it?”
Her eyes are wide as she nods slightly. Maybe I sound harsher than I intend to, but I’m exhausted and my patience is wearing thin. I probably shouldn’t have just grabbed the first available prostitute. I should have found a nice demure one instead.
Do they make them that way?
My thoughts dart to Bridgett, and I clench my teeth against the memory. Yes, she had been a little on the demure side. She wasn’t street-hardened or a junkie. She was sweet and kind. What did it get her? A bullet in the head, that’s what.
“What the hell did you drag me all the way up here for, then?”
I am starting to wonder if this particular prostitute is destined for the same fate.
“Just—just lie down.” I sound like an ass, but I don’t really know what else to tell her. Admitting that I can’t sleep unless there’s someone in the bed with me sounds so ridiculous. “I’ll fuck you in the morning.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” I drop my jeans down around my ankles, realizing I haven’t taken off my boots yet. I don’t think I can actually bend over and untie them without landing on the floor.
&nbs
p; “Yer gonna pay for me to just sleep in your bed all night?” she asks. “I mean, there ain’t no discount or anything.”
“I’m not looking for a discount,” I say, snapping at her. I sit on the edge of the bed in my boxers and reach down to unlace my boots. “For fuck’s sake, I just want to go to sleep!”
Once my boots and socks are off with my jeans piled up on top of them, I put my hands over my face and rub my eyes again. My stomach turns over, and for a moment, I think I’m actually going to throw up. I hate that feeling, and I swallow hard against it.
“M’kay,” she says in a softer voice, “we’ll just sleep or whateva.”
I inhale a long breath through my nose and nod once. I turn and crawl up to the head of the bed and practically collapse on the pillow. It’s cool against my face, but it warms quickly. The hooker slides in beside me, pulls the blanket back, and wraps it around us both.
I wrap one arm around her, appreciating the warmth only briefly before I feel myself starting to fade. She says something to me, but I can’t comprehend the words before I fall asleep.
“Left ten degrees,” Zach, my spotter, says quietly. “Top of the building.”
I look up and then adjust my scope. I can see the target clearly and begin to take careful aim. Zach calculates the wind speed, and I make an additional adjustment before pulling back on the trigger.
Blasts come from all around us, and the chunk of the brick I’m hiding behind explodes into dust around me.
“We’ve been heard!”
We pull back, and more shots rain down on us. It only takes another thirty seconds for us to realize we are surrounded.