DELINQUENT

TWO

When I got back to the bar, Jared had already poured the drink I needed.

"He takes Jameson." He informed me, pushing the cup towards me with his middle finger. "And he pays in cash."

"Right." I responded, no entering it in the computer then.

"8 bucks." He answered my next question before I even thought of it.

I nodded, discarded the empty glass from my tray and took the full one. Quickly, returning it to its owner.

My presence at the table caused silence again. What were they talking about that they couldn't risk a stranger overhearing?

Jameson Neat gave me a pat on the butt when I turned around. Chuckles erupted around the table rewarding him for his bad behavior. Pricks. It was disgusting that a group of grown men could chuckle about harassing a working woman.

The day, slowly, painfully slowly, turned into night. I quickly learned that Jameson Neat was one of the more polite customers. Throughout the day, I'd slapped away groping hands from each table and even threw a drink at an older gentleman who had asked for a ride out back with me.

Disgusting.

Jared just laughed. He didn't try to corral the pigs around me, he didn't try to corral me either. After I threw the drink, he gave me a grin and poured me a replacement.

Jameson Neat stayed well into the evening. When the clock reached 11, they were the only table left. Jared told me to settle the bill with him.

"72 bucks" I told him bluntly, holding out my hand like a child waiting for allowance. He licked his lips slowly and bit down on the bottom one. I couldn't break away, I wanted to press my lips against his, let him lick mine. I managed to pull away, eyes meeting his. They were playful, teasing. He knew what he was doing to me.

I glared at him. His wallet lay on the table, he reached for it and opened it up. It was flush with cash. He pulled the bills out excruciatingly slowly and counted it back into my outstretched hand.

20. 40. 60. 70. 71. 72.

I waited there, long enough to remind him to tip me. He smirked at me and just turned around, his back to me. I clutched the money in my hand tightly, crumbling it up into a ball of meaningless paper. Of course, he wasn't going to tip me. At least the grabby ones did.

Despite the ill behavior, it had been a good night. I had made quite a bit of money. Enough that I knew I would come back tomorrow and deal with the wandering hands again.

Back at the bar, I slapped the money into Jared's hand.

"Go home. I'll close up." He said, sorry in his eyes. He saw me get stiffed.

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow." I clocked out on the computer and then pointed a finger at Jared's office across the room. A request for him to unlock his office.

He tossed me his keys. I went and did it myself, not bothering to change out of my shirt for the walk home. I stuffed my things into my purse and slung it across my shoulder. Double checking it was locked before I dropped the keys back in Jared's hand.

"I'll make you a copy tomorrow. You walking?" He asked. If I weren't mistaken, I thought I caught a breath of care in his words.

"Yup." Couldn't afford a car, couldn't even afford a bicycle.

He shook his head, snatched a rag out from an indiscriminate bucket and began wiping down the counter between us.

"I'll give you a ride if you can wait." I was surprised to hear it. Surprised that he worried for me. I didn't live far, less than a mile by foot. Unlike the other places I had worked, Jared didn't care if I sat around on my shift as long as no one complained. Honestly, my butt hurt from all the sitting. I could use a stretch of the legs.

"I live close." I said "but thanks."

"Suit yourself."

The night had brought lower temperatures with it. And when I stepped outside, I wished I had brought a jacket with me. I wrapped my arms around myself. Bracing for the walk. I sped up, the movement would warm me. The street was dead. The lampposts along the sidewalk made me feel safe in the sketchy neighborhood. It wouldn't be so bad here, I was going to make money, explore a new city and live a good life.

Free.

Alone.

An engine revved to my right and I dared the street a glance.

A large SUV, black dusted with mud slowed down to match my pace. All the windows rolled down. My pulse quickened, my fingers twitched and sweat started to trickle down my back. Did I run? No, it didn't seem likely I would outrun a car. Should I scream? Holler? Call the police? I made myself aware of my surroundings. Nothing open at midnight on a Tuesday. Nowhere to hide.

"Carly." The familiar voice coaxed a shiver from my spine. The low rumble warmed my skin.

Jameson Neat. My least favorite customer.

"Not Carly" I said. He hung his head out the window, a night breeze blowing his hair into his eyes. He ran his hand through it to tame it. I continued my walk.

His car groaned loudly speeding up to stay with me. The engine was louder than it should be. There was definitely something wrong with it.

"Well, I gave Carly rides home. What do you say Not Carly?"

"Did you give Carly tips?" I shot back, anger replacing the warmth of his gaze. His eyes widened, watching me with amusement. A woman not so easily snared in his trap.

"I gave her something else."

I snorted at the innuendo. Then choked on it when I imagined him spread out on the bed like a king. "Well I take cash."

"What do you charge an hour?" He grinned.

I blanched. No wonder Carly f*****g quit.

He was such an ass

"You can't afford it." I finally said, pleased with the quick retort. Score one Mila.

It encouraged him, grin growing wide, splitting his face in two. He spewed out a dry laugh and rolled his tongue across his bottom lip. A car honked abruptly behind him and sped past with a shout. He flashed it the bird without hesitation.

"Give me a number." He said.

"Give me a tip."

"Honey, I'll give you the whole thing."

My cheeks reddened at the thought. Bastard! He was impossible. Deplorable. I was over this conversation. He was never going to end it so I did.

I dug my hand into my purse, feeling the delicate cord wrap around my fingers. I removed the earbuds and jammed them into my ears and then my phone. Conversation over.

He honked at me. I jumped at the noise and heard a loud laugh fall from his lips. "I'll see you tomorrow." He shouted as he drove off. I flipped him the bird praying he saw it.

I made it back to my apartment and let out a sigh of exhaustion. I may not have been physically active but talking to people, throwing their hands off still took it out of me.

My apartment was simple, maybe too simple for some. It had everything I needed and nothing I didn't. It was how I liked to live, how I needed to live. No excess. No baggage.

A one bedroom, it opened up into an eat in kitchen which connected to a small sitting room. A room I had yet to furnish, completely void it didn't bother me. If I had free time, it wasn't going to be spent sitting on my ass in front a TV. As far as seating went, there was no point in buying a couch when I had perfectly good barstools lining the countertop.

I set my purse on the counter and opened the fridge. Again, no excess. Just enough ingredients to make a sandwich for dinner. I gathered the necessary goods. Bread, turkey, cheese, and lettuce. It took a minute to slap together. Sans plate, I took it to my bedroom. Aptly named, the only thing it held was a bed. My clothes out of sight laying on the floor of the small closet.

My bed was uncharacteristically luxurious in comparison to the rest of the apartment. I had sprung for a king, four softer than cloud pillows and fresh sheets. My little piece of heaven. I settled myself into it and ate my sandwich as I scrolled through in my phone.

Welcome to your new life Mila.