Page 1 of Stabby Little

1

OLLIE

Saturday, May 2nd

Fucking.

Pig.

That's what I think as I stand in front of Gordon Moreno. He's a meat salesman from Brooklyn who looks like the products he sells. His cheeks are flushed pink and his blue jeans are lined with dark spots.

If I were a betting boy, I'd say they were bloodstains.

But Gordon wouldn't be so fucking stupid to wear clothes with the evidence of his crimes still on them.

The stains are probably piss.

Or dirt.

This man gives me the creeps.

“Hi.” I bat my eyelashes and push my hands behind my back. I aim for an innocent look, the one WebCam models use before they take you for all you're worth.

Seven years as a sex trafficking survivor in a brutal warehouse in Yonkers, New York, taught me how to appear coquettish.

That's my modus operandi.

Play nice to get this sick motherfucker to invite me inside.

He was one of the clients who fucked my friends in my captors' warehouse.

Today, he'll get what's coming to him.

Today, he'll learn his crimes have consequences.

Gordon's eyes roam across my body. “Are you the FedEx delivery driver?”

“Yes.” I pull a white package from behind my back. “I need your signature.”

Gordon catches his lower lip between his teeth. “You don't look like a delivery driver. Are you old enough to drive?”

I show him the white badge I stole from the real driver.

I beat him up and gagged him in the back of his van so he wouldn't blab.

Hurting innocent gig economy workers isn't something I'm proud of, but I must do what's necessary to survive.

I'll give him cash to cover his therapy appointments.

I smirk and run my fingers through my hair. “My eighteenth birthday was last week. Yes, I'm old enough to drive.”

Gordon slides his hand in his pocket. “Leave the package on the doorstep.”

Stepping forward, I place my palm on the door. “Three hundred dollars. I'll give you some head.”

Gordon's eyes flit around the street. “This is some kind of fucking setup.”

No doubt he's searching for the feds he thinks are controlling me.

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