Page 45 of Delivered in White

Just as soon as I’m about to turn my GPS back on, I notice a yellow cab. Even though I’m mad, I really don’t want to risk being tracked by the wrong people.

I have no money or credit card though. Looking down to my see-through covering, I’m reminded at how ridiculous the situation is.

A balding handsome man is staring at me through the window of his SUV. Sirens are going off in my head that this might turn into Capri-is-stuffed-into-a-suitcase scenario, but I can’t go back there. There’s prude girl repellent all over that building.Get. Me. Out.

My legs carry me to the cab, and just as I get in to shut the door, I see both bouncers running after me.

“Go, please!” I tap the cabby’s shoulder.

“Yes, ma’am,” his thick Russian accent makes me frightened that I ran into the arms of another mobster, but when he stops at the first red light and turns to me, I see that he’s harmless in his expression.

“I do not know which way to turn to get to ‘go,’ pretty lady.”

“Ha! Hightown Street, Water’s Edge, please.”

“Coming right up.” He flicks the left blinker. “Might I ask how a dancer as pretty as you is leaving Star Dust before eleven p.m.? No way you work the day shift.”

“Is that what you say to all the dancers you drive home?”

“Only the pretty ones.” He cackles. “You no seem like the others.”

“I’m coming to realize we’re not so different. Just trying to survive.” I look out the window.

My phone is buzzing like crazy, to the point where I’m tempted to look. I flip it over to see Trino’s number blinking over and over again. Text messages, calls. I guess his private dance is over.

I sniff to myself haughtily, then gasp when I go to read a message, and my phone goes black.Shit!It died.

Trino might actually kill me.

A bit of panic shivers through my limbs, but I just remind myself he deserves it for what he did to me. Doesn’t he care at all how others feel? HowIfelt up there?

Of course not. He’s a freakin’ mobster.

After about twenty minutes of talking myself off a ledge, I direct the cab driver to leave me at the corner of Trino’s block. “Here should do.” Taking a wad of cash from my G-string and placing it on his center console should be enough for no questions asked, so I exit, waiting for him to drive off. Waving my hand multiple times to say ‘bye’ in case he wants to be a gentleman. “I’m trying to avoid you,byeee,” I keep mouthing to myself as he nods through the window, pretending to understand me.

As soon as he’s out of sight, I take off my heels and sprint for Trino’s uphill cul-de-sac.

He’s going to kill me.

He’s going to kill me.

He’s going to kill me.

Each breath is littered with that mantra. Thinking back, I should’ve asked the Russian if he had a phone charger. Oops. Now I’m literally alone, in the dark, on a hot and peaceful night in the Jersey summer. Things could be worse. I could’ve stayedto watch Trino emerge from the private rooms full of glitter and slime.

Ugh.

I go around the back of his house, praying I don’t step on a landmine or activate blood-seeking hounds or something.

Nope. Still peaceful.

Nice tall bushes frame the city view from his backyard, and some long-chairs on the grass perfect the scene. I’d say I’m sufficiently exhausted from all the near-death excitement, betrayals,stripping. Yeah, screw this.

I put my heels down beside me and take a load off, relaxing into a comfortable chair tilted slightly up so I can watch the lights. The water is serene. Grass meticulously sprayed so no mosquitos bother me. I can just simply… be.

Small party boats in the distance make me remember my lawyer friends going to happy hours after work.Normaltimes. Feels like a lifetime ago, and it’s only been a few days.

Is that what it means to be in the fast lane – feeling like you’ve lived a lifetime in a day?

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