Page 7 of Glass Wings
Hadley stopped across the street from Java Java, her meeting point with the manager. She saw him sitting at one of the metal outdoor tables with two iced coffees sitting atop. His eyes darted to every single woman who walked past him, expectantly.
Her phone vibrated in her skinny-strapped faux leather purse. She pulled it out, reading the text message.
Are we still meeting?
He put his phone down, and she watched him sigh, rolling his eyes to the sky before looking around. His square jaw and plain white t-shirt would have ensured that on any normal day, she would walk straight past him with no suspicions, but now, she knew he was a conduit to a world filled with lust. His wandering eyes eventually landed on her, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
Slut. Whore.
At that moment, Hadley felt nothing but shame and embarrassment. Her face was wet and pale. This wasn’t who she was.
With eyes locked on his, she scowled at him and walked off in the opposite direction, towards her apartment.
The newly eighteen-year-old girl felt that she had no other options and only a few dollars left to her name. She had just applied for a job at that same coffee shop the day before. The skinny, freckled supervisor told her that he would keep her application on file, but like everywhere else, they had no open positions.
At least she could write. She could take this day and add it to the play she was working on, or bring her frustration to the slam poetry open mic night. There was a place where she did feel like she belonged.
Hadley walked through the streets of midtown, passing old, poorly cared for tenements and outdated small businesses. It was the prior gold rush town in all its glory.
She walked past politicians on their way to the capital, suits, and ties projecting power despite the unbearable heat. She also passed homeless people, eyes fixed on the ground, their cardboard signs pleading for food or money. She wasn't too far off from needing a sign of her own, and the idea of living on the streets made her speed up her pace as she strolled past them.
Hadley reached her apartment building. She loved it there, with its baby blue exterior and small square windows. There was nothing extravagant about it, but it was the first real sense of independence she had found since her mom had died. Before she signed the lease, it had been two years of couch surfing with various high school friends, and now one of them was on her couch.
Once inside the building and up the stairs to the second level, Hadley turned left and walked to her door, only to be met with horror. Four angry eviction notices on bright red paper were taped on the front of her dark blue door.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she said under her breath as she tore the notices down, creating large red paper balls in her tight fists. She pulled her keys out of her purse and let herself in before closing and locking thedoor behind her. She took a few deep breaths, the dread radiating off of her.
What am I going to do?
She sat at her desk, throwing the crumpled-up papers in the wastebasket.
I am a whore, she continued to write on the scrap paper, normalizing it. She read the words over and over again until numbness replaced the panic.
The natural light from the window faded as the day turned into night. She sat up straight in her desk chair and angled her body towards the computer. She wiggled the mouse on the black trackpad, waking the screen.
Hadley tapped her mouse to click on a hidden tab she had been scrolling through earlier in the morning. She continued to explore the ads for “girls who need money fast.” It was time to try again.
Without letting herself think too much about it, she clicked on an ad that promised “safety” and “respect” and texted the phone number provided outright.
She got a reply in less than a minute.
Meet tomorrow at 1207 Yesler Way, Citrus Heights. We will take pictures and get you started. Go around the side to the garage entrance. - Grant
Hadley put her phone on the desk, screen down, and took a breath. She could do this. She had to do this. Her stomach turned from the anxiety. The meeting that she had just stood up had been in a public place. This was not.
It’s just sex. She tried to convince herself again.Sex is a craft. This is okay.
The handle on the front door turned, and Hector walked in with a huge smile on his face.
“You would not believe the day I had,” Hector announced his arrival and threw his gym bag on the couch. “I hit up the gym before dance class, and I spotted a very attractive person. I had to get hisattention, so I began stretching, showing off a little of what I can do. He then totally starts smiling at me. We instantly have a real vibe going on.”
Hadley sighed and leaned back, taking in Hector's thick Portuguese accent, which got heavier whenever he was excited.
“Then, bam, I pulled a muscle in my calf. It hurt. Holy fuckin' shit, it hurt. I bit down on my lip so hard so I didn't show it and he thought I was flirting, as it goes. Next thing you know, he gave me his number. He wants to meet at Club Spire tonight. Will you please come and be my wingman? My wingwoman? You have to say yes!” He flung his hands in the air.
Hadley scrunched her lips and started to shake her head.
“I think I might love him. If you don't come, you'll be interfering with destiny.” He pulled his arms into his chest before diving onto the couch, kicking his shoes off in the process.
