Page 30 of Angels Fall

“Your worth.”

“Ha!” I laugh it out for the third time this morning. But then I shut up, because I think this is going my way.

Your way? the angel says. This is your big plan? Manage the morning shift at a strip club?

Shut the fuck up, bitch.

That was me, not the devil.

“I am worth something here, Pete. I’m not saying I’m better than anyone, but I’m…” I swallow hard. “I’m committed. Ya know? And I’d do a good job. I swear. I’m competent.”

Pete stares at me for a few seconds. “Mmmhmm. And all kinds of people are interested in you right now,” he says.

My smile is tight. “Yeah, well, you know. I’m an interesting girl.” I force that fucking smile to stay put.

He slides his glasses down his nose. “Guy who came here about you—”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Pete says. “Kinda crazy if you ask me.”

“Look, I know it’s not the best situation to be in, OK? But I’m handling it. And this job is helping me. And if you let me work harder for you… I’d be worth it, Pete. I swear. And then I could pay back my debt and Carlos Castillo would go away… and things would get better. I mean, I can’t pay off the whole thing on a stripper paycheck, obviously. Or a manger paycheck, either. A hundred and seventy-six-thousand dollars is like, two years’ worth of pay. I know that. But I can probably get him off my back, and things would cool down, and… and…” Pete is looking at me like I just said something totally wrong. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You owe Carlos Castillo a hundred and seventy-six thousand dollars?”

“Um…” This feels off. Like Carlos wasn’t the guy who came looking for me. “Actually, a hundred and eighty-five thousand. But I’ve made nine over the past few weeks, so I deducted. Maybe it was Logan who came looking?” I say, trying to put the pieces together. “You know, that asshole henchman Carlos has doing his dirty work? Could be either of them.” Pete stares at me. Not blinking. Just staring. “I guess.”

“So…” He leans back in his chair, “Who exactly is Tyler?’

“What?” I practically choke on the word.

“Tyler? Fella who came here about you. Couple times.”

“Tyler?” I say, so fucking confused. “He came in here again?”

“Mmmhmm,” Pete hums. “Pretty crazy. If you ask me.”

“Well, he’s a soldier who—” I say, then roll my eyes. “This isn’t about Tyler. This is about me. Remember? I want to be your morning manager?” I need to redirect this conversation back to that. Because I just admitted I owe a drug lord a lot of fucking money.

“So this Tyler. He is your friend, then?”

Jesus. He won’t let it go. “Um, well, yes. We’re old friends, I guess.” I decide telling Pete about my sexual relationship is probably not work-appropriate. Especially when we did it out in his back alley.

“And he’s not crazy?”

“Well, I dunno about that.” I laugh. But Pete doesn’t think it’s funny. So I say, “No. Not really. He’s just… fucking Tyler.”

“And you left him a note to stay away?” Pete asks.

“What? How the hell—”

“He came here with that note asking me for advice. At three in the morning.”

“He. Did. What?” I grab my hair like my head might explode and that’s the only reasonable way to keep it attached to my shoulders.

“I think he’s been around a lot,” Pete says. “Seen him a few times since.”

“When?” I actually look over my shoulder like Tyler fucking Morgan is gonna come barreling up those steps and… and… I have a very inappropriate daydream in that moment. Imagery of him fucking me in the alley weeks ago also comes to mind for the second time in like ten seconds.