Broken Women

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Monday, February 17th, 2014

Denver, Colorado

I tugged my blue suit out of the plastic bag the dry cleaner had covered it with. It was the only nice thing I owned that didn’t reek of cigarette smoke from the private club I’d been tending bar at to make ends meet.

My black pumps were missing in action. It took me all of thirty seconds to do a swing around the tiny apartment I’d been living in for the past four and a half months to find them. Slipping them on as I stood in front of the mirror on the back of the only door into the place, I shook my head at myself.

“It will have to do,” I said out loud to the barren walls. I grabbed my little satchel of papers off the wood breakfast table that had been left behind by the previous occupant, collected my keys and locked my way out