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This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Sitting here in this Uber, staring out the window as my surroundings slowly get slummier, is enough to make me question every choice I’ve ever made in my entire life.
I’m supposedto be a smart person, the girl who’s always sensible and reliable. The girl my manager can always count on to arrive at work on time and even pitch in and help when the people from the shift before me didn’t finish cleaning their department the way they should have. I’m responsible, kind, and definitely not this person.
What would they think if they saw me now? Looking like a mid-priced hooker on my way to probably the most dangerous part of town? All alone, on top of everything else? Oh, and at night. The cherry on top is the inky darkness the driver navigates as we roll down streets that were smooth only a few blocks ago but now are full of cracks and potholes.
Even he thinks this is a shitty idea, and he doesn’t know the half of what will happen. “No offense, miss, but are you sure you want to be down here all by yourself, especially at this time of night?” He doesn’t bother to hide the way he cranes his neck a little, like he wants to see all of me in the rearview mirror.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I chirp, smiling with my teeth the way I do at work sometimes. When the customer in front of me has shredded my last nerve after an already crazy day. Knowing that, with my luck, even the slightest rudeness would end up getting me written up—or worse. Because that’s how my life goes. Other people have leeway to maybe make a mistake or two, but not me. That’s never been the case.
All the more reason to accept an insane job like this one, you idiot.
My insides are all fluttery, and I can’t stop shaking my foot back and forth. Who am I kidding? I’ll probably end up getting nabbed by the cops. For all I know, this could be some undercover sting operation. What if Elena set me up for this because she knows—the way I now know, at least a little bit—how dishonest her family is?
Granted, she didn’t exactly use those words, but it was pretty close.
“I’m going to tell you a secret,” she continued on the bench outside the administration building. “Sometimes my family does… things that aren’t exactly legal. And when I need a little money, sometimes I’ll do my uncle a favor, and he’ll give me cash for it.”
“What kind of favor?” I asked, tensing up.
“It’s super easy, I promise. You just take a package from a specific location and deliver it someplace else. It’s really a no-brainer, and there’s, like, no chance of getting in trouble.”
No chance? If somebody is willing to pay twenty grand for this delivery, I have a hard time believing this is all safe. Obviously, it’s worth a lot more money to somebody, which tells me it has to be drugs or something like that. I mean, she told me to bring the biggest purse I own, and even then, exactly how much could I fit inside? No, drugs are the only thing that makes sense. Small package, big profits.
But even knowing what I’m more than likely about to transport isn’t enough to make me change my mind. Because I would do just about anything to make twenty thousand bucks in a single night. Hell, I might even have gone back on my nervousness about stripping if that sort of money was in the mix.
No matter how many times I remind myself how easy this is supposed to be, I can’t calm my nerves. I turn my attention to the checklist Elena rattled off once I confirmed that I would indeed take this job.
Short, tight dress.
Apparently, the place I have to go to for the drop-off has a dress code or something. She said it’s best to dress this way to fit in, but if anything, I feel like I’ll stand out. The sleeveless black dress I’m wearing fits the bill. It’s kind of old, and I’ve gained a little bit of weight since the last time I wore it. Too much stress eating cheap carbs. If anything, it looks even better on me now than it did before. My boobs never quite filled out the top the way they do now, and the way it hugs my hips and ass had my driver checking me out as I climbed into the car.
Hair clean, blown out, and styled like you’re going on a hot date.
I did that, too, only slightly burning my fingers in the process. But now my dark hair hangs over both shoulders in big, soft waves made bigger thanks to the hairspray I used way too much of. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an excuse to get dressed up, so I’m a little out of practice.
It doesn’t matter. I’m going to blend right in with all the other girls at the club or the bar or wherever it is I’m going to end up. That’s the whole point. I have to blend in, avoid attention, and then get the hell out of there while I somehow convince myself this was all worth it. I’m doing this for my future.
I pull the compact mirror from my bag to check out my makeup one last time. Eyeliner and mascara bring out my eyes, while the smoky gray shadow makes them look greener than ever. My lips are full, red like wine. It’s a shame I’m not actually going out someplace because I haven’t looked this good in a long time. All it took to break out the makeup and brushes was the idea of being able to afford to live.
“Almost there, miss.”
I’m not sure if the driver is informing me or warning me, but I murmur my thanks before checking out my list again. The instructions are right there, plain as day, and they couldn’t be simpler. The package will be waiting in one of the offices in the warehouse—it should be the only office with lights on. I sure hope that’s the case.
The package will be waiting in the top drawer of the desk. All I need to do is take it, put it in my bag, and get it to the location whose address will be on the package. Easy peasy.
I only hope these stupid heels I’m wearing aren’t too loud, just in case somebody is still hanging around in there. Elena told me it’s usually empty at this time of day, though it’s left unlocked specifically for jobs like this.
Man, I wish I didn’t have to do this. Even if I get out of the warehouse with no trouble, who’s to say everything will be okay when I deliver the package? What if somebody there is surprised and angry when someone other than Elena delivers?
I need to stop asking myself the what-ifs, or I’m going to chicken out before I even get there.
Twenty thousand dollars.
That’s what I need to keep in mind. That’s why I’m doing this. Elena said she’s done it a bunch of times, and she’s always come out just fine. She told me to use her name if anybody asks who I am. That everybody knows who she is. I have to wonder if they’ll trust me just because I know her, but she seems to think they would. I really hope she’s not completely oblivious, being a member of the family and probably getting special treatment because of that. In other words, I hope she wasn’t talking out of her ass.
“I can wait,” the driver insists when we pull up to the front of the discreet, darkened building.
I kind of want to tell him to stay here, but that was another warning Elena gave me. I can’t have the same driver drop me off at the pickup, then take me for delivery. There’s too much room for somebody to start asking questions. Three separate Ubers—I’ll need a third one to get home after I finish the delivery and collect my money. Good thing this job is paying so much. Otherwise, I might have to complain about how expensive this is turning out to be.
