Always For You (Books 1-3) (7 page)

I'd
moved from my job at
Slice
though. It started to get awkward there with these local guys blaming
me for a beating they got. They said a couple of guys attacked them
for just chatting with me, that they all had to go to hospital, one
of them with a three inch gash to their head. I couldn't be bothered
to deal with that, so I looked for a new job.

In
the end I started working at a place called
Room
Z
.
It was a club, rather than a bar, and had a seedier undertone to it.
I wasn't until I'd been there a few weeks that I worked out exactly
what it was like.

I was still drinking every night, still
living a nocturnal life, when I started working there. All the staff
were women, and all of them beautiful. They wore these skimpy
outfits, provocative little skirts and tops to get the men through
the doors. I had no idea I'd be wearing a uniform like that on my
first night there, but by the time I'd got into it I didn't really
care. In fact, there was little I did care about by now.

After a week or so I'd started to
realize that there were a lot of drugs being taken, not only by the
customers, but by the waitresses as well. I'd see them sometimes,
snorting cocaine in the changing room before heading out for their
shift. They looked to be having a great time with it, and it was
offered as a perk by the club, a way to get them in high spirits when
working long shifts. That's what they told me anyway.

It was Coco, a girl who worked a lot of
my shifts with me, who eventually got me to have a go after a couple
of weeks. She seemed really sweet, all peaches and cream, so I
thought if a girl like that could try it, why not me.

It burned my nose when I first snorted
it, something Coco told me would probably happen. The feeling was
euphoric though. I had this high, this energy, this vitality. I could
talk to any customer easily, could charm them into giving me better
tips, could work for hours on end without feeling drowsy. I stayed
late that evening, dancing the night away long after my shift had
ended, my energy knowing no limits. It was one of the best nights of
my life.

The next day, however, was one of the
worst days of my life. I'd gotten used to fighting my depression
using alcohol, staying up late and keeping myself busy at night. When
I woke early the next morning, my body just crashed. I felt like
death, like there was no point in living, no point in fighting on.

The temptation was too great. I snorted
again when I went to work, regaining that high, that feeling of
euphoria. Night after night it happened, the white powder slowly
joining my dependence on alcohol. I'd take cocaine every night,
sucking it up to numb me, to dull my pain. I had become a completely
different person, the sort of person I'd look down on and pity only
six months ago. A girl with a shadow face, my life spiralling out of
control. It all happened so fast I couldn't stop it, couldn't save
myself. Slowly, I was becoming truly lost.

I met a lot of other girls at the club,
lost girls like me. One was Krista, a girl who didn't work there, but
who was there every night. She'd make friends with all the barmaids,
and the regular customers as well. She'd offer cocaine like it was
nothing, cheap stuff I learned it was, cocaine mixed with crushed
pills and other powders. I didn't realize what her game was for a
while; I just thought she was a friendly girl, trying to fit in.

But no. I'd see her take girls to the
back room, the place they called 'Room Z'. I didn't know what it was
for a while, didn't know what they were doing back there. Krista
would always come back out, but never the girl she was with. I once
saw her counting money as she returned through the door, a bundle of
notes that she stuffed quickly into her purse.

It wasn't until later that I learned
Krista was a pimp. She'd go round the club, getting girls to take
cocaine, getting them high, getting them addicted. Sometimes she'd
work on them night after night, breaking them down slowly. She'd
offer them a 'party', the chance to make some good money, the chance
to have a wild night. I knew what it was all about, and I knew it
wasn't for me.

Sometimes I'd see girls go in the room
and they'd never come back to the bar, quitting or God knows what
else. I didn't want to know, didn't want to think about it. I just
got on with my job, got on with my life, or whatever was remaining of
it.

Krista offered me the chance to 'party'
a few times. That's all she ever called it; a 'party'. She never
pushed it though, she just went to the next girl, offering them
cocaine, asking them if they wanted some fun, wanted to make some
more money. And she was good at it as well, good at sucking people
in, good at wearing them down. I saw a lot of girls fall, a lot of
girls give in. But not me.

Krista
started seeing this guy. I'd see her sometimes after my shift,
climbing onto the back of a motorcycle outside the club. The helmet
and bike looked really familiar to me, like that one that pulled up
and saved me from the crash.
I
guess there's a lot of bikes like that around
.
But I hadn't seen many, not in this town.

I never saw the guys face though. He
always just sat there with his helmet on, his visor down. I thought
he was looking at me sometimes, or at least in my direction. She'd
roll up and jump on the back before they sped off, god knows where. I
was jealous somehow, jealous that she had a boyfriend, if that's what
he was.

Right now, I didn't feel as though
anyone would want to date me.

February/March 2013

Cain

The phone rang on the other end of the
line. It clicked and I heard a woman's voice.

“
Hey,”
I said.

“
Who
is this,” came the reply, a lazy, husky voice, but sexy.

“
Cain.
We had fun a few months ago. You remember?” I got the feeling that
this girl might be the type to not remember the guys she'd hooked up
with.

“
Are
you suggesting I'm a slut?” she asked. I liked her tone.

“
Well,
you did go home with me that night,” I said laughing. The game was
on.

There was a short silence on her end.
“Maybe you were different. Maybe it was a one off.”

“
Was
it?”

She laughed, not willing to give
anything away. “Maybe.” She had a playful tone.

“
Well,”
I said, taking control, “I'm gonna get straight to the point. We
had fun, let's do it again?”

“
How
romantic,” she said. I could hear her already saying 'yes' in her
mind.

“
Romance
isn't really my thing. Sex is. I think I showed you that last time.”

I knew she was delaying, that she was
just dragging it out for effect. “I guess I'll have to give you
that one,” she said finally, a knowing texture to her words as she
reminisced about the night.

“
So,
tonight?” I was always direct about this stuff.

“
Sure,”
she said. “It'll be late though. Meet me at
Room
Z
at midnight, I'll be waiting outside.”

I clicked off the phone, not even a
goodbye. We knew what this was about, no need for pleasantries. This
was unusual for me though – seeing the same girl again. I guess it
was because I hadn't met another girl for a while, and I needed to
have some fun.

I
pulled up outside
Room
Z
at midnight and saw Krista emerge from the club. There were two
massive bouncers at the doors who said goodbye to her as she left.
Perhaps
she wasn't the best girl to screw around with after all.

“
I
knew you'd call me eventually,” she said as she climbed on the back
of the bike.

I
just nodded, handing her a spare helmet. She had no idea that it was
only a thirst I had to quench – she'd never be anything more to me.
As I pulled off I thought I saw Grace come out of a side door. She
looked lost, her eyes sunken and her skin all pale.
She'd
never work in a place like this, surely?
I'd been here before, and I knew what went on.

Krista was the best sex I'd ever had.
She knew exactly how to get to me, exactly how to push my buttons. No
girls were ever like that, it was always me in control, me calling
the shots. Not her though, she was like a professional. Maybe she was
a professional.

It drew me back to seeing her again.
I'd taken to hooking up with her a few times a week, she was that
good. We'd never do anything else though – no talking, no dinners,
no walks in the park. It was strictly business, and we both knew the
score. She wasn't like all the other girls who wanted to stay over
when we were done. She'd just get up each time and leave. I didn't
even know how she got home, I'd always collect her from the club on
my bike.

After a couple of weeks I thought I saw
Grace again. I sat there waiting on my bike and saw her once more
emerge from the side door. She looked worse and worse each time I saw
her, and I could immediately tell she'd taken to drugs. I felt awful,
like it was my fault. I'd pushed her to this. I'd caused the death of
her mom. I'd ruined her life. And she knew nothing of it. Nothing at
all.

She wandered out like a lost soul, a
shade of the girl I'd met nearly a year ago. I could see her putting
on a coat over her short skirt and tight top. It wasn't the sort of
outfit I'd expect her to wear, but this wasn't the sort of place I'd
expect her to work.

It
had a reputation for drugs and prostitution. I guess the general
population didn't know much about it, but in the world I lived in,
everyone knew. If you wanted a good night,
Room
Z
was the place to be. Drugs were easy to come by, the staff were all
women, gorgeous women at that, and you could upgrade to the VIP room
if you had the money for it. Back there, in 'Room Z', as it was
called, you could buy people, buy them for the night, buy them to
fulfil your wildest fantasies. But you had to pay for it, and it
didn't come cheap.

I'd heard all about it from Brad. He'd
gone to the club a few times, even told me about a guy he knew who'd
been into Room Z.

“
Bro,
it's insane. They get all the barmaids coked up, they even offer free
coke to hot girls just there for the night. Then these girls go
round, like pimps, and get the girls to go back into the VIP area.
You sit there, as these hot girls come in, and you choose the ones
you like. The pimp girls set rates for them. Mate, it's crazy!”

It wasn't for me. In fact, I found that
sort of thing pretty sick. The idea of women being drugged and then
sold into prostitution, even if it was semi consensual, really
sickened me. The thought that Grace might be doing that, that I might
have caused her to go down that path; that really got under my skin.

I asked Krista one night back at mine
about her. I never spoke to her about anything real, but I had to
know.

“
I've
seen a girl I know at your club. Grace.”

“
Oh
yeah? And?”

“
Does
she go to the VIP area?”

“
Oh,
you know about that huh?” She sounded a little guilty.

“
I've
heard about it from a mate, yeah. Girls getting drugged and sold,
fucking sickens me.”

She went quiet. “Um, yeah, I guess
that does happen. But the girls, they all want to do it. They're not
forced or anything. And they're paid well – I think.”

Her tone was defensive, like she was
involved in it all. I thought she was a barmaid, and I guessed she
had no problem selling herself.

“
So
you do it then?” I asked bluntly.

“
No,
no, I don't do it.”

I didn't believe her, but I honestly
didn't care. She could do what she wanted.

“
And
Grace?”

“
No,
I don't think so. I've never seen her go in, I don't think she's very
keen. I've ask – I've seen her asked once or twice by this girl,
but she's always said no.”

I
nodded slowly and lay back on the bed. “Good. Would you do me a
favor
?
Keep an eye on her for me, would you?”

“
Do
you care about this girl? Who is she to you?”

I looked at her blankly. “Just an old
friend, that's all.”

April
18
^th
2013

Grace

It had been a hard week. I'd spoken to
dad on the phone and had another big bust up. I found out that he'd
begun seeing someone new, just six or so months after mom died. I
couldn't understand how he could do that. How after twenty five years
of marriage he could so easily move on, so easily forget.

Katie was away as well, leaving me
alone. She'd been seeing a new guy, a nice guy, a guy from college
who I knew. They'd gone off on holiday together for the week, a nice
romantic break leaving me there, only my thoughts and that awful job
for company.

I think Katie had been finding it hard
with me. She was always trying to help, trying to be supportive,
trying to get me to stop taking drugs, stop working at that seedy
club. But I couldn't stop, I wouldn't. I needed the money, I needed
the job. I wasn't going to go back to living with dad, not now he had
this new woman. No way.

I was in a particularly bad state that
night at work. I just didn't give a shit, serving people the wrong
drinks, taking shots behind the bar. Coco said I should take a break,
that she'd cover my section. I went into the back, sitting there
watching some of the other girls snorting in the corner. I'd grown
sick of it all, I hated everything. But nothing was breaking me free.