I woke up feeling gross, my panties damp from one of those nasty dreams again. Why did my subconscious have to betray me like that? Visualizing that scumbag in any kind of sexual way just felt so messed up after the terror he put me through last night.
Man looked like he was getting off on the power trip too, his wickedly handsome face twisted up in a sick smirk. I really needed to get out of this line of work before guys like him got me killed.
I stripped out of my soiled underwear and tossed it in the hamper, then shuffled to the kitchen in just an oversized t-shirt. A bowl of Lucky Charms would have to do for breakfast. As I crunched on the sugary cereal, my phone started buzzing on the counter.
It was Kat. I let it go to voicemail at first, not really in the mood to talk after the night I had. But of course, she kept blowing it up until I finally answered.
I groaned inwardly when I heard Kat's voice on the other end. Don't get me wrong, I love that girl to death, but she was gonna eat me alive if she saw the mess I called home right now.
"Girl, you better be ready when I get there!" Kat hollered over the phone. "I swear, if I drive all that way just for you to flake out again..."
"Relax, I'll be ready," I lied through my teeth, cutting her off before the lecture could really get going. My eyes darted around the disaster zone of my apartment - dishes overflowing in the sink, damp towels strewn across the bathroom floor, and enough crumbs on the couch to Season an entire Thanksgiving meal.
Before I could mentally prepare, the jarring sound of my doorbell ringing made me practically jump out of my skin. Kat always did have the worst timing. I rushed over and pulled open the door, putting on my best fake smile. But the look of abject horror on her face said it all.
"Jesus, Izzy!" She barged inside, hands on her hips as she surveyed the wreckage. "What did a tornado just blow through this place or something?"
I shrugged sheepishly. "Rough couple of days?"
Kat scoffed, shaking her head. "More like a rough couple of years, babe. This is no way for a grown-ass woman to be living!"
I knew she was right. My bestie had been on my case forever about getting my life together, cleaning up my act and my apartment. She'd grown up having to be the second mom to a whole brood of younger siblings after her own mother passed away. Tough love was just kind of her thing.
"I know, I know..." I sank down onto the couch, not even caring about the crumbs crunching underneath me. "Being a stripper was only supposed to be temporary, you know? Just for a little while until I got on my feet after..."
Kat was actually the one who helped me get my stripper gig at the club when I was fresh off the streets and had nowhere else to go.
For her, dancing was more of a passion than a last resort. I think sometimes she wished she could've rubbed off on me the same way, shown me the empowerment in commanding a room with your body. But I'd never been able to full embrace that mentality, not with the dark road that led me here.
"Alright, that's it. We're getting this place cleaned up, like, right now."
I started to protest, but she shut me down with a single stern look. "Don't even try it, Izzy. This is just unacceptable. How are you supposed to get your life together if you're living in this pigsty?"
She had a point. The mess surrounding me - the overflowing sink, the damp towels strewn everywhere, the crumbs and grime coating every surface - was a perfect metaphor for how out of control things had spiraled. If I couldn't even keep up with basic chores and hygiene, how could I expect to tackle the bigger issues weighing me down?
"Okay, fine, you win," I relented, unable to meet Kat's eyes as a wave of shame washed over me. She was right to call me out. Again.
Thankfully, Kat didn't dwell on making me feel worse than I already did. Instead, she immediately kicked into drill sergeant mode, barking out orders as she started gathering up garbage bags and cleaning supplies.
"You hit the kitchen. I'll take the living room. And for god's sake, please clean up those nasty panties you've got lying around!"
I felt my face heat up at the mention of my soiled underwear from the messed up dream earlier. Of course Kat would zero in on the most embarrassing bit. I hurried to scoop up the offending garment while her back was turned.
For the next few hours, we worked up a serious sweat, scrubbing, scouring, and putting every nook and cranny of my small apartment back into order. Kat was utterly relentless, making me re-do any half-assed jobs until they met her standards. More than once I felt the sting of a dish towel swatting my butt when she caught me slacking.
"Move that lazy ass, Izzy! This isn't a spa day," she'd snap at me in her best impression of a drill instructor.
As demoralizing as it was in the moment, having Kat firmly ride my butt turned out to be just the motivation I needed. Finally, after what felt like days of hard labor, we were able to admire the fruits of our efforts - a sparkling clean, guest-ready living space.
"See? Doesn't that feel so much better?" Kat let out a contented sigh as she plopped down on the newly vacuumed couch beside me. "Fresh air, zero grime, and not a crusty pair of panties in sight!"
I had to laugh at the jab, shaking my head. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Thanks for the tough love...again. I seriously would be lost without you keeping me in line."
"Hey, what are best friends for? I just want to see you finally get that pretty head of yours on straight, ya know? You've been through too much shit to still be living like this."
I felt a pang in my chest as her words hit a little too close to home. God, if only Kat knew the latest trouble I'd managed to get myself into with that gangster asshole from last night...
But then the rational part of my brain kicked in. I knew Kat's first instinct would be to go running to the cops, to try handling this "the right way" and all that. While her heart was in the right place, my bestie had been fortunate enough to never really encounter the true depravity that slithered through Miami's underbelly. She didn't understand that a scumbag like that Russian wasn't just some random lowlife loan shark - he was clearly connected to some seriously dangerous professional criminal outfits. People you didn't just narc on to the local PD, unless you had a deathwish.
No, involving the authorities would only sign both of our death warrants. Going up against the kind of merciless organization Alex worked for required putting every ounce of street smarts to use. Kat may have grown up in the rough side of town, but I'd seen and experienced levels of brutality she couldn't even fathom.
I opened my mouth, ready to try explaining some version of the situation that didn't make me sound completely reckless and over my head. But the words never came as an uneasy feeling suddenly prickled at the back of my neck. Like we were being watched.
My gaze drifted over to the window, just in time to catch a faint shadowy figure passing by outside. I froze, my breath catching in my throat as every self-preservation instinct kicked into high gear. There was no way...had the man or one of his gang members already been staking me out? Trying to gauge if I was going to rat them out or make a break for it?
"Izzy? Hey, what's wrong?" Kat must have caught the look of sheer terror on my face. "You're startin' to freak me out over here."
"I...I think someone was just outside. Watching us."
Kat's brow furrowed with confusion as she glanced over. "What? Are you sure? I didn't see or hear anything."
Walking over, I pressed my face up against the glass and peered out, searching for any sign of movement. The neighborhood appeared still and empty. Had I just imagined the whole thing in my paranoid state?
Kat rolled her eyes as she sauntered over to where I stood, peering out with furrowed brows. "Izzy, I swear, you got more paranoid theories than an old granny watching too much true crime TV."
She pressed her face up to the smudged glass and squinted. "I don't see a damn thing out there except Mrs. Thompson's mangey-ass cat probably digging through the trash again."
As much as I wanted to believe Kat's logical explanation, my gut told me what I'd glimpsed lurking outside was no mere stray feline. The shadowy figure had seemed distinctly human in form. But maybe my frazzled nerves really were just playing tricks on me after the night of terror I'd endured.
"You're probably right," I lied through my teeth, forcing a tight smile. "I'm just still feeling a little jumpy cause of my ADHD."
Kat seemed to accept this at face value as she reached over to give my arm a reassuring pat. "Well, get those paranoid thoughts outta your pretty little head, babe. We've got way more important fish to fry now that this shithole is finally presentable again."
I arched an eyebrow warily. "Oh yeah? Like what, redecorating this place into an actual house of class instead of a crack den?"
But the sly grin tugging at Kat's lips told me she had something else entirely in mind. "Not exactly interior design. More like our huge evening gig lined up at the club."
Now she had me intrigued. "Don't tell me - another bachelor party?"
"Bingo!" She wiggled her eyebrows excitedly. "Some rich douchebag reserved the club's top two talents for the night to give him and his asshole finance bro buddies the ultimate private pre-wedding party experience."
I tried not to visibly cringe at the thought. Having to perform overly intimate dances for drooling packs of entitled pricks was honestly one of the worst parts of this job. Too many times what was supposed to be a polished, professional routine devolved into gross commentary, wandering hands, general grossness that made my skin crawl.
Kat seemed to sense my apprehension as she quickly added, "But before you get all prudish on me, just think about that giant paycheck, girl! We're talking five solid figures, minimum."
Whoa.
That's a lot of money.
Maybe I could finally get the loan shark to stop circling me like a hungry great white.