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Reading the words again, just to make sure my eyes and brain aren’t playing tricks on me, I hug the paper to my chest tightly. I’ve never been into religion or any of that, but I remember a teacher once saying that when God closes a door, he opens a window. The last couple of days might have been a great big stinking pile of shit. I’m losing my home, I lost my job, all of my savings, and I almost got killed by some junkies. Doors have been shutting on me in every direction, but this could be my window.
Rushing down the street, I head for the university campus and into the admin offices. There’s a free use phone in here. I guess it’s intended for students to use if they run out of credit or can’t afford a phone plan. But at twenty, I still look young enough to pass as a student, so I glide past the desk and over to the phones, picking up the receiver and dialing the number on the flier.
“Hello,” an upbeat female voice answers.
“Oh hey, I saw your flier and wondered if you’re still looking for a roommate?”
CHAPTER 2
lev
Guilt isn’t an emotion that I feel often. In my life guilt, remorse, and regret are the types of feelings that make you weak, sloppy, and sometimes even dead. But as I watch the girl rip the flier down, read it, then hug it to her chest, an unfamiliar feeling slithers through me.
When she turns and strides off down the sidewalk, I move too, walking at a slightly slower pace than her. I’m on the other side of the street dressed inconspicuously in jeans, scuffed, dirty sneakers, and a dark hoodie, with headphones covering my ears.
I’m invisible right now, just one more person, going about their day, minding their own business. Or at least that’s what I’m telling the world at large. In reality, I’m the most dangerous thing on this street. More dangerous than the cars and motorcycles driving past. More dangerous than the junkies and criminals hiding in the shadows, waiting to reach out and grab you. More dangerous than the assholes sitting behind their desks, making deals that help the rich get richer, and the poor stay poorer.
But the difference between me and the other dangers out here, is that the only person I’m a danger to right now is her. Staying at a distance, I watch as she crosses the street and enters the university campus, walking as if she’s been here a hundred times before—which she has. She might be in her twenties, but she could easily pass for being in her teens, especially today when she’s dressed in tight jeans, a T-shirt that’s had the sleeves and bottom cut out of it, and scuffed Doc Marten boots. Her face is free of makeup and her hair is straight and loose, hanging down her back.
She looks young, sweet, and innocent.
When she strides confidently into the building that holds the admin staff, I follow her in, wandering over to the wall of pin boards and information leaflets. I’m close enough that I can hear her make the call and the moment I hear Bea answer, I turn and walk away.
What we’re about to do to this girl is unforgivable. But that’s not enough to stop us, not anymore. A year ago, when she popped back onto our radar, we tried to convince ourselves that she was nothing but an inconvenience; a burden to be watched and monitored. But over the last twelve months, we’ve all been forced to admit that she’s so much more than that.
Dimi, Vik, and I have watched every move she’s made for the last three hundred and sixty-five days. We’ve followed her as she buys groceries, sat at the back of the bar she works at night after night, keeping her safe, then trailed her home until she’s tucked up in her bed. We know everything about her. What type of shampoo she uses, what brand of tampons she prefers. The candy she buys when she’s had a shitty day, and the things she cuts out when she’s struggling for money.
We’ve seen her brush off a thousand guys and a few hundred women who thought they could have a taste of her. We’ve watched her laugh and smile and frown and scream. We’ve been there for the highs and lows. We know her. Which is why, even though what we’re about to do is reprehensible, we know we can keep her safe, secure, and cared for better than anyone else in the world. She might not see it to begin with, but we’re going to make her life better.
We’re just going to fuck it up first.
CHAPTER 3
alabama
“Wow, you’re fast, I literally just got home from putting up the flyers,” a cheerful female voice says, then giggles.
“Good timing on my part if the room’s still available.”
“It is.” She giggles again. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”
“Well, my name is Ali, I’m twenty, I’m a part time student at Columbus State, and I work at Home Run, the sports bar on Fifth in the evening. My current roommate just got accepted as a transfer to Brown, and because the lease was in her name, I’m having to try and find somewhere new to live. Which is just an absolute nightmare on top of the huge assignment I have due on Monday.” Almost everything I just said is utter bullshit, but as if I’m going to be honest. Part time student with a job sounds a hell of a lot better than unemployed, uneducated, almost homeless person.
“Oh my gosh, what a nightmare.”
“It really is,” I agree, giving her my best valley girl impression.
“Well, my name is Bea. I’m a sophomore at Columbus, and there’s me and two other girls all living in the apartment. The room that’s empty was Danika’s room, but her boyfriend dumped her and she stopped going to class and flunked out. We were going to use the empty room as a walk-in closet for us all to share, but Chelsea is a bitch who will borrow your clothes, stain them, and then refuse to admit she’s done it. So, we’ve decided to rent the room out instead.”
“Seriously, that’s terrible,” I say, rolling my eyes at how vapid and ridiculous this girl’s first world problems are.
“Right,” she agrees.
“So, the flier didn’t say how much rent was.”
“So rent is five hundred a month, plus utilities.”
