Page 32 of Dark Ink

And this means all my clients. I can’t figure out why I haven’t been caught yet. As time passes, I get more and more brazen about how I use the tools. My patrons have been spending more time sleeping than they probably do at home. And how they still haven’t complained about that, how they still think they’re too drunk to remember anything of our ‘good’ times together, is beyond me.

But I’m not going to push it. Why would I? It’s the first time in years that things are looking up. We have a system. Aworkingsystem to get boys and girls out of this place and to ensure that people are hurt as little as possible by what goes on in Lavender.

So, tonight my innate curiosity doesn’t give me peace. It drags me upward, step by step, toward the office on the first floor. I need to get in there. I need to see what they see; I want to be able to glance behind that dreaded screen at least once and know how much the CCTV actually shows.

If I know that, I’ll be able to hide better as I use the syringe. I will be able to ensure that whatever I do, no matter how often, I have a higher chance of success. And then pass on that knowledge to everyone else, of course.

I wipe my palms on my tight red dress. It ensnares me like a polyester body bag, making me too hot and sweaty. Or maybe it’s just the anxiety.

I have no idea how I will enter the office. It will be locked. Do I speak to a cleaner? Do I break the door down? I glance at my flimsy heels and shake my head. Maybe I should ask someone to go with me. But except Mathias, who’s never here in person, I don’t trust anyone.

Ben’s face flashes in my mind and I remember how soft his lips felt pressed to mine that one time we kissed in the staff room. It’s as if the warmth of his body and his scent branded themselves on my aura. The memory of him is always only a thought away.

Do I trust him enough to ask him to break into Valerie’s office with me? My steps stutter in dreadful harmony with my mind.

No matter how he looks at me and how amazing that kiss was, in Lavender overall, he does nothing. He appears to be unbothered by the atrocities committed by Penelope, Valerie, and everyone else in here.

But when things get tough, he has my back. I know he does something to keep me safe. There were too many close calls for me to be that lucky. And yet he doesn’t make a move. I don’t even know if hewantsto make a move. There is this undeniable flirtatious energy between us but beyond that? Little drinks, stolen glances. The warmth of his palm on my lower back.

Ben’s feelings toward me are an enigma I’m not going to solve today. So I empty my brain, trying to recall who is most likely to have a key to this office. Maybe I can convince them to let me in. Or drug them and steal it. The shift of the chief cleaner begins in half an hour. I will corner them when they come to change in the locker room.

I turn around with a sigh, ready to stomp down, already chastising myself that I’m walking around like a clueless fly. But before I do that, because I’m in front of the door anyway, I reach back and give it a soft push. It doesn’t budge, and that’s not surprising. Then I turn and put my hand on the cold handle and push down. What are the odds?

The door creaks open like it was just waiting for me to touch it. Inside, I find Ben.

What the fuck?I freeze in place, startled.

He’s startled, too. I can see it in his eyes.

But that’s as far as his surprise goes. In Valerie’s chair, he’s sitting like a lazy king, gazing upon his kingdom. Legs open, taking up all the space in the plush chair, his head resting on his fist, his whole body leaning on one side. His elbow is propped up on the massive armrest. Valerie’s expensive office chair is essentially an armchair on wheels and Ben looks damn good in it.

“Do you mind closing the door?” he says with a smirk playing on his lips.

For a moment, I gawk at him in disbelief.

His smile widens and I’m brought back to the present by the unusualness of it all. I’ve missed this wide smile. It used to be on his face often in the time before Lavender’s abrupt change in management. I push the door closed by leaning my whole body on it, shaking a little. It clicks softly and I palm the surface behind me until I find the lock and flick it.

He must have heard my attempts to enter. As my cheeks redden, I imagine he can hear my thoughts. That everything I feel is written in the red of my ears, in the bite of my lips, in the conspicuous way I play with my ring. If I’m not more careful, the needle will pop out and embed itself into my thumb. I exhale and drop my arms to my sides.

No matter what I found inside this office, I’m finally here.

“Hi,” Ben says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

My eyes travel across his relaxed form. He looks different here. His shoulders are broad and the lines of his face are smoother. His hair looks softer. I’m used to seeing him standing up, towering above me. But when I brave the few steps from the door to the desk, I’m looking down at him. I’m seeing a different angle of his beautiful, chiseled face. From this perspective, I can see his curiosity unveiled. It’s in the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Not going to answer me?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Why not?” he continues.

I don’t know where my words have gone. But a charged moment passes in the silence between us. Suddenly, I want to hug him. I don’t know why. I don’t know what for. The idea he might be somehow on Valerie’s side doesn’t cross my mind for one second. I know he’s mine and I’m his without either of us actually saying it. Not in a lover, soul mate, or partner kind of way. Just as humans in the same space, unified by something bigger than ourselves.

I want to believe that the reason he’s here is to make things better for me. Maybe it’s a selfish thought, but after so many years in a place where everyone took advantage of me; when I’ve only really had a few short moments to feel happy and explorative and free, I can allow myself to contemplate that there is someone who truly wants the best for me.

“Can I look at the screen?” I say finally, still chewing on my bottom lip.

I must look shy, but what I feel inside right now doesn’t translate to the outside. It’s the filter of someone who suffered and knows that expressing emotion usually ends in pain. But I try my best. I dare to smile back, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

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