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“Would you believe I wanted to do my part to help out?” I asked. I didn’t want to bullshit her. She shook her head, her eyes lighter than they had been. “Didn’t think so.” I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Honestly, I don’t really know.”
“That’s okay. Everything happens for a reason.”
I’d call bullshit on that one, but if she needed to believe it, I wasn’t going to dissuade her. “So I hear.”
She walked away, and Miss Nece elbowed me in the ribs. “Don’t even think about it,” she growled, catching me off guard.
I hadn’t been looking at Trish in the way she’d interpreted. I wanted to know more about her and hated whatever had brought her here even though I didn’t know what it was.
“I’m a man, Miss Nece. It’s all we think about,” I tossed back with a wink even though I inwardly cringed at having to put on this happy-go-lucky front here all the time.
She muttered under her breath, but I wasn’t sure if it was a prayer or a curse.
Chapter Eleven
Sonya
Sam pawed at my knee.
Damn. I was a terrible mother.Wait. Not mother. Dog sitter? That wasn’t right either.
Sam pawed at me again.
“You need to go outside?”
He danced around as though I’d said the magic words. What was I thinking? Picking up a stray dog when it was dangerous for me to take him for a walk? One look at his sweet face and the danger didn’t matter. Besides, being cooped up in my room was making me insane. I was free to come and go as I pleased as far as the rules went, but I couldn’t risk traipsing around the city with Tamas no doubt looking for me. It was only a matter of time before he turned over this stone. I had to be gone by then. Hiding under the covers wasn’t getting that done.
And fuck Drew Harris Carter. Not only had his wallet been a waste of time moneywise, but I was craving a cigarette like I hadn’t in two years. Holding my breath when he’d blown that little slice of euphoria in my face yesterday hadn’t worked. I longed for that recessed filter between my lips and yearned to feel the first hit of nicotine crash my system. I groaned out loud, letting my head fall back against the wall behind my bed where I was sitting. There had to be a gym in this bitch, and I bet it would be nice.
Shit.
“Let me go find some shoes.”
Sam wagged his tail.
I could make the pajamas I’d been given suffice as workout clothes, but the Converse weren’t cut out for the type of run I was going on. I slipped Drew’s wallet into the pocket of the flannel pants. It wasn’t ideal for running, but I couldn’t risk leaving it unattended in my room. If I got caught with it on me, I could say I’d just found it.
Barefoot, I tapped on the door of the room next to me, which was slightly ajar. Sam poked his head inside but stayed glued to me. A girl who looked to be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, was sitting at a desk with her head bent over a smattering of different colored powders.
“Hey,” I said to get her attention. “I’m your neighbor, Sonya.”
She turned around and brushed the hair out of her face. When she did, a rose-colored streak was left across her cheek. She zeroed in on my bruise but said nothing about it. “Hey. I’m Baker.”
“Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to see if you had any tennis shoes I could borrow?”
“Sure, but there’s a whole room downstairs with all kinds of things. You can help yourself. Want me to show you where it is?” she offered, already closing the lid on one of her powder containers.
“No. You’re busy. I’ll find it. Thanks for letting me know,” I said, backing out of the room.
“Sure thing. See you around.”
I should have put on the shoes I did have for my quest, but I was in a hurry, needing some kind of outlet before I went on a different kind of search. One that involved a vice and a flame.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Sam right behind me, I made it to the bottom floor, peering in every room until I found what I was looking for. My neighbor hadn’t been joking. There were clothes for any occasion lining the walls of the large space. Racks of shoes were arranged by size, and I found myself salivating over a pair of Jimmy Choos. What were these doing at a shelter? And who the hell had donated Jimmy Choos? I couldn’t resist, slipping the stilettos on my bare feet and letting out a littleeekof joy.
I had some, but that didn’t matter. Stepping into the shoes was always anahhmoment. Lifting my foot and tilting my head, I examined the black beauties. There had to be a mirror. I glanced around and saw a full-length looking glass. I pranced right over to it.
Shoes and clothes were easy to get someone to buy for me, but the thrill of nice things—no matter how I got them—hadn’t become old even after all this time. Men wanted the woman on their arm to be as beautiful as the cuff links or suit they wore. To most of them, I’d been an ornament. Something to dress up and make sparkle. I liked being beautiful.
