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I let out a small groan and rub my back. I can tell already it’ll be black and blue from Neil tossing me.
“Fuck!” I say to no one as I realize I won’t be able to wear a lot of my costumes for a few days, or at least I will have to put on a lot more cover makeup. Arturo will love that.
Once I get to my feet, I survey the rest of the damage in the room. The stall door is bent slightly and there’s a trail of blood from the counter to the floor where Krystal is still lying. Bits of powder litter the counter and mirror.
Of course, it’s at that instant that Annika walks in. She has become one of my favorite people here, despite how quiet and soft-spoken she is. She’s still wearing her costume, some kind of flashy showgirl that is completely at odds with her personality. Her eyes widen and her mouth forms a perfectOshape as she stands in the door.
“Neil,” I explain, and her eyebrows go up another notch. “Wanna help me get her out of here? I think she probably needs a doctor, maybe has a concussion.”
“I go get James,” she says in her broken accent, turning around and exiting before I can object. My hand comes up to my nose and I squeeze. Fucking perfect.
It only takes a minute before he walks in, immediately assessing the scene with cold eyes. I don’t say anything, waiting for him to make the first move. He stares at Krystal for a long minute before he finally looks at me.
“You didn’t see shit,” he tells me. “Get the fuck out of here and go home.”
I only glance down once at Krystal before complying and walking out of the bathroom, eager to leave the entire scene behind me. The music is still pumping as I walk into the club, and raucous male laughter comes from one of the corners.
I peek over and see Neil and the others sitting around one of the VIP booths, a few girls dancing in front of them. I watch as Neil leans forward to the table, and though I can’t see from here, I can guess what he’s doing.
I shake my head, wondering how someone grieving their OD’ing friend can do so by doing fucking drugs. Then again, it’s a wonder anything in this world surprises me anymore.
I exhale heavily from my nose before grabbing my bag and heading out the door.
I can’t have been asleep more than a few hours before a horrid pounding at my door wakes me up. I groan and roll over, happy to ignore it, when the sound repeats.
“What the fuck,” I gripe as it happens yet again.
I drag my feet over the bed and all but crawl to the door. By the time I’m halfway there, my tiredness is giving way to annoyance. I start to consider the different curse words I can use to tell off the person on the other side. I get to the door and peer out the peephole, starting a bit when I see who it is.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Did your mother not teach you if someone doesn’t answer then you should fuck off?” I say as I open the door.
Killian smirks. “You look like shit, can I come in? I brought breakfast sandwiches.”
He holds up a bag and a delicious smell wafts up. My stomach grumbles loudly. I was so tired when I got home I barely made it through a quick shower, much less eating anything. I narrow my eyes at him.
“Okay, but when I’m done eating you gotta fuck off,” I reply, grabbing the bag from his hand and turning around. “How the fuck did you find my place, anyway?”
“Do you always answer the door in the nude?” he asks, ignoring my question, as he closes the door and steps in behind me.
“I’m not nude, I have on a shirt and panties,” I reply succinctly, grabbing a few plates and taking a seat on the couch.
I pull out the sandwich and take a generous bite, moaning around it. Even with my limited taste buds, there is nothing like a greasy breakfast sandwich.
“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff. I’ve never had someone be bothered by it before. You know, when I first met you I thought you were gay or something.”
Killian raises an eyebrow but looks more amused than anything. “I’m not gay,” is all he says.
I shrug and the corner of my lip turns up. “Whatever.”
He watches me a moment before pulling out his own sandwich. We eat in a silence that’s strangely comfortable, and I decide that greasy sandwiches are a cure-all.
By the time we finish, I feel slightly more human and I lean my head back on the couch.
“Somehow, I don’t think you just came to be nice and bring me a sandwich,” I say with closed eyes. He doesn’t reply and I bring my head up, opening my eyes to see his steely gaze on me.
“Why are you at Eternity?”
I groan. “What? This again? I needed a job, I told you.”
