Abigail's Pov
The can of beer in my hand fell from my hand meeting the ground when a third gunshot was heard.
I turned around to face the direction of the gunshot almost peeing in my hoodie pants.
From the darkness, there was a black van parked a few steps away.
I hadn't seen it when I walked into the street, in fact, I hadn't seen anything. I wasn't paying attention at all.
In front of the van were six men all dressed in black suits and ties. Except for one of them, who wore only a pair of black suit pants and a white button up shirt.
I couldn't see his face but the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up his arm, revealing a lot of tattoos on his arm. In his hand was a gun, probably the one that had just been fired.
My gaze went down. There were three men on the floor in a pool of their own blood.
My hands flew to my mouth to hold my scream.
That was the gunshot I heard, somebody was actually killed.
Beside the dead bodies was another man, kneeling and pleading for his life.
"Do you know what I do to narcs, Marcus?" the man with a tattoo asked in the darkness, loading bullets into his gun.
Sweat flew down the face of the man on the floor, I could see his hands trembling. "I'm sorry, please!"
"Do you know what I do to people who betray me, Marcus?!" the man with a tattoo barked in anger again.
Before the man could respond, the sound of a gunshot filled the air.
My body moved back, and quickly I hid behind a garbage can beside me.
Despite the cold, I could feel sweat going down my own face.
My legs were trembling and my breath likewise.
I had just been a witness to a murder.
No… four murders.
If I wasn't careful, I would become the fifth.
"Dispose of the body," the man with the tattoo spoke.
He seemed to have authority over the rest.
Maybe he was the leader.
I turned my back against the trash can, shaking.
I heard two of his boys tossing the dead bodies into the car, and minute later the Van took off.
I remained in the same position until a SUV I hadn't noticed stirred to life following the Van and drove out of sight before I came out of my hiding place panting.
The lord was on my side tonight, I might have lost my job but he didn't let me loose my life.
Though it would have been better if I did with all the debt I'm owing it only a matter time before the loan shark starts coming for me.
I walked to where I'd drop the can of beer from fear. They where lying on the floor scattered across the road.
Slowly I bent down to pick them up, my fingers trembling.
Two can had been crushed flat, the tire marks from the SUV running over it. Two others had been open too, mixing with the dirt ground. I found only two left that weren't ruined.
I stared at them for a while, my mind empty.
Before I closed my eyes and trashed the empty ones.
I picked up the other two cans that were left and started walking home.
The beer didn't matter anymore.
I didn't even feel like drinking now.
I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was following me as I walked out the street.
A car honed making me flinch fear traveling down my body.
It felt like my body was still in that alley, even though I'd already left.
I squeezed the cans tighter in my hand until they made a soft cracking sound.
I'd never seen a real murder before.
And I happened to have seen four already in in a night.
A gust of wind blew down the street, and I pulled my hoodie tighter around me.
Maybe I should've stayed inside Cathy's house. Maybe I should've just gone to bed and cried myself to sleep.
I sighed, shaking my head to wash away the scene from my mind.
But a black car drove by on the other side of the street, and I froze until it turned the corner and disappeared.
I started walking fast.
Getting to Cathy's house, I opened the door quickly as I could, getting inside.
I set the two cans of beer on the counter, and thought about opening one, but the thought of drinking made my stomach turn.
I pressed my palms against the counter and lowered my head.
Before turning and making my way into the guest room Cathy had given me.
The bed was the same as when I left it.
I sat down slowly, my legs finally giving up. I looked at my hands. They were still trembling a little. I rubbed them together, but the shaking didn't stop.
The image of those bodies on the ground kept flashing in my head.
And I immediately, thought about calling Cathy? but thought against it.
I lay my back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling again.
I pulled my phone out of my hoodie pocket. The screen light meeting my face.
There was another new messages from Susan.
I opened it again.
Hey Abby, I heard about what happened. I'm sorry. But there's this new place looking for waitresses. The pay's better than Fluxx. Maybe try it?
I'd read it my thumb hovering over the screen.
Another club.
Another night club full of perilous men.
I signed sadly part of me didn't want to go back to that life. Not after what happened with Mr. Sherman.
But what choice did I have?
Cathy's been kind, letting me stay here, but it's not fair to her. She's got her own bills to pay.
I sighed again and sat up, pulling my knees close.
My finger hovered over the screen again, then finally I pressed reply.
Thanks susy. Send me the address.
....
A few days later I was finally told to come for an interview after submitting my resume online.
The club was Gold hour.
I dressed up in a pair of jeans and a blue sweater and headed out.
By the time I reached the club, I was enchanted. I didn't have much money on me, so I had to trek five miles.
The terrible smell of cigars flammed my nose as I walked into the place. The club was bigger than the old one I worked at. Men sat on every corner swallowing drinks down their throats.
In the middle was a stage where strippers danced sinfully on a pole.
"Who are you?" a girl spoke behind me.
I turned to face a blond girl around my age. She was dressed in blue shorts and a crop top, which showed her curves, and knee-length heels.
"I'm here for a job interview," I said.
Her gaze scanned me. "Waitress?"
I nodded.
"Follow me," she spoke and walked past me.
As we walked past, I saw lap dancers grinding on top of drunk men who tossed dollar bills on them.
I pressed my hand against my chest as a knot formed in my heart, disappointed that debt dragged me back into this life.
The interviewer, unlike my old boss, Mr. Sherman, was a young man in his late thirties.
He was dressed in a pair of suit pants and a black button-up shirt. His blond hair rested on his forehead.
I sat across from him in his dimly lit office, which was conveniently bigger than Mr. Sherman's office.
And on his table was neatly filled with files, and on the corner was a plate of unused cigars.
"You said you have four and a half years of experience in this line of work?" Mr. Halpert asked, his brow raising slightly as he scanned through my resume.
"Yes, sir," I responded. Despite the air conditioner in the room, my fingers were sticky with nervous sweat.
He nodded and placed the file on the desk before him. "You have a good resume, but unfortunately, Miss Foster, the job has been taken."
My shoulders fell. "W… what.. I?" I murmured in disappointment.
It felt as if my throat was closing up as I forced tears back into my eyes.
This job was my only hope to pay off my debts, but it had been taken already?
How could I be so unlucky?
"We do have other openings if you are interested."
My gaze went up immediately.
"One of our strippers suddenly quit yesterday after her mother fell ill, and we need one." His gaze scanned me. "Do you think you can do it?"
I stared at him in awe fumbling for words.
Stripper.