Page 11 of Devoured
“He was partying, Dahlia. Partying, when he should have been managing.”
“He’s the owner and CEO of Vanish Nightclubs and Price Development. He can do whatever he wants.”
“But he’s going to ruin everything,” I whined.
Maybe it wasn’t about the Dahlia District at all, but about giving up this life that I had made for myself for the last fifteen years. My friends were gone. Now Dahlia, the closest thing I had to an actual mother figure, was leaving too. What did I have left, if not my home?
“Listen very closely,” Dahlia said. She leaned toward me. “You need to give it time. If you truly love this business and you want to keep it as a safe space for sex workers, then you need Price on your side.” I groaned, and Dahlia put a finger to her lips. “You need to make yourself invaluable to him, like you did with me. Show him how amazing you are, how much you believe in this club’s potential. He’s young, younger than me, anyway. I take it he’ll be more willing to listen to your ideas than I ever was.”
That was an interesting point. While Dahlia listened and adhered to many of my ideas, she never once budged when it came to the servers’ freedom. And this man, this new owner, was already willing to let that go. Some changes could be good; I understood that. I could admit that he might have some positive effects on the place.
But another generic nightclub wasn’t what we needed.
And yet, if there was no choice but to give in to the new owner, to accept that things had to change, then maybe I could make it more bearable by being a part of every decision. Giving my input. Making myself invaluable, like Dahlia had said.
“Okay,” I muttered. “Fine.”
“That’s my girl,” Dahlia said.
There was a knock on the door; the movers had arrived. They took most of the furniture, while I helped Dahlia move the smaller boxes, filled with creams, lotions, and powders from her bathroom to the backseat of her sports car. There was barely enough room to fit it all, so once it was full, she gestured for the movers to take care of the rest.
Dahlia put a few strands of white hair behind her ear, her neck a bundle of tanned cords. My biological mother had chosen to get high over me while I was in elementary school. Even my foster mother hadn’t exactly beentherefor me. But when Dahlia had taken me in, she had seen potential in me, just like I saw the potential in the Dahlia District. It was hard to see her go.
Dahlia looked at me, tears forming in her eyes.
Shit.
“Let me show you something quickly,” she said. She took my hand and dragged me to the kitchen in her apartment, opening the refrigerator to a large, pink box. “Your favorites.”
I smiled to myself, though it was bittersweet. I loved these cupcakes, but they could only do so much, when everything that I had come to rely on, including her, was gone.
Dahlia adjusted the necklace around her throat, not making eye contact with me. “I took the liberty of telling Price that you would be living in this office,” she said. Her office? Thisentireplace? “He’ll need access to the surveillance room, of course, but you’ll still have more privacy here than you would in the Greenhouse.” I didn’t know what to say. This was a huge gift and completely unexpected. “You’ll have to pay rent, but it’ll be the same rate as it was in the Greenhouse.” That made sense. But the same rate for an entire two-bedroom apartment was way more reasonable. “With the caveat that you’ll be the new manager of the club.”
“New manager?” I asked. Dahlia nodded. “What does that mean?”
“A lot of what you’ve already done for me. But I’m sure Price will have his own expectations.”
“Thank you,” I said, the melancholic gratefulness inside of me creeping close to tears. No. I didn’t cry. Not when it came to this kind of thing.
Dahlia blinked back her own. “Thank you, Iris,” Dahlia said. She squeezed my arm, and I put my hand over hers. I knew I’d miss her. “Take care.”
I walked her to her car. As she turned out of the parking lot, she stuck her hand out of the window and waved, before roaring off. I wasn’t sure that I would ever see her again. I had her phone number, but I had no idea where she was moving. She had kept it that way on purpose.
Maybe it was better this way. It was her choice to leave. Nothing I said would have made her the owner again.
I went to the Greenhouse and surveyed my dorm room. Though it was slightly bigger than the rest of the dorm rooms, it was still small. I grabbed my pillow, my bag of makeup, and stuffed my pajamas into a duffel bag. I could grab the rest of it—the latex outfits, the impact play toys, the rest of my street clothes—later, after I had a moment to unwind. After I had recharged. I needed a minute to let go of the sadness. Tomorrow, I could move forward.
Kendall glared at me in the hallway, shoulder checking me as she passed. I stopped. Kendall kept walking.
“Hey,” I said.
“What bitch?” she said.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” I said. I wasn’t, but I knew I needed to at leasttryto make it better between us, especially if I wanted to make myself invaluable to Price. I needed to have a good rapport with everyone, including Kendall. And at least, in my new apartment with my own personal kitchen, I wouldn’t have to worry about someone stealing my tangerine juice. “I overreacted.” At least that was the truth. “I was a jerk.”
Kendall’s mouth gaped open, but before she could say anything, I left. I had done my part. That was enough for today.
In my new apartment, I dropped the duffel bag on the empty living room floor and pulled out the pink box from the fridge. Maple blueberry. Lavender earl grey. Poppyseed with lemon curd. Chambord and chocolate ganache. Four of each. There was no way I could eat these by myself, but before I brought them to the Greenhouse, I could enjoy one of each. Alone.
