Page 5 of Trapped in the Shadows

I hurried out of the kitchen before Claudia could elaborate on her fantasies. Thankfully, Claudia left at three, so I didn’t have to deal with her for the second half of my double.

Toward the end of the night, I was getting a little excited. I got a fifty-dollar tip from a group of older ladies. That put me almost twenty bucks over what I had to have for the day. Everything after this was extra. The rest of my customers got me with my best customer service mask on. Bright smiles, white teeth, and overkill politeness.

By the end of the night, I’d made way more than I’d anticipated. I had a hundred and fifty dollars in unallocated funds. I could buy the new locks, and I had enough to buy a few groceries that didn’t consist of plain pasta or cans of condensed soup.

“Was it a good night dear?” Marie asked as I clocked out.

“It was.” I couldn’t help my big grin.

“Good. Claudia wasn’t bugging you was she?” Marie glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. “You know I hate that little skank, but it’s hard to find help.”

I chuckled. “She was fine. I’m used to her.”

“All right. I didn’t see you eat anything all day. Were you too busy? I hate to see you go that long with nothing.”

Marie and Clint allowed employees one meal per shift. They were a small business though, so the meals weren’t free. Everyone got fifty percent off. Most of us typically grabbed cheaper stuff like appetizers or a salad. Even at that rate, I was looking at five or six dollars a shift minimum. I usually worked six days a week. Five dollars added up after a few days. I tended to make do by eating a french fry off of a plate here, or a leftover roll there. Maybe I should try to market it as a diet, since it was why I was so thin. I could almost hear the nutritionists crying.

“What? No, I ate. That one guy around four only ate half his club sandwich, I ate the rest,” I lied.

Marie looked disgusted. “I don’t know how you girls do that. I could never eat off of some stranger’s plate, but,” she shrugged, “I guess it’s better than letting food go to waste. See you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.” I headed out the door to walk home.

It was almost nine at night, and the streets were more lively than usual with the festival still in full swing. A band played in the distance a few streets over. As much as I hated how it had messed my schedule up, I was now grateful that the walk home was a little less creepy. I made a detour to a hardware store that was still open and purchased new locks. They were more than anticipated, but they were a need rather than a want.

Before I got home, I swung by an all-night market and filled my basket with the usuals. Cereal, pasta, ramen, soup. I still had extra cash, and I could splurge a bit. I almost never purchased meat, but I still didn’t have enough to buy something like that. I talked myself into two cans of Spam, a half carton of eggs, and three hearty-looking frozen meals. Even though I was fairly sure I could afford it, I still battled overwhelming guilt as I checked out.

Chapter 3

Once I got home and put my meager-but-exciting grocery haul away, I pulled the doorknob and deadbolt out of the bag but stared at them in confusion. I’d never replaced something like this before. In fact, I realized with a sinking sense of defeat, I didn’t have any tools. From the look of it, I needed at least a screwdriver. I chewed my lip, thinking about going back out to the hardware store to get one. How much did those cost? Five dollars? Ten? I imagined the embarrassment of having to return two cans of Spam so I could afford a screwdriver.

No. I’d ask the neighbors next door to help. Paul and Suzy were a young married couple with two little kids. They were nice, and Suzy had helped me fix a clogged toilet once. Maybe she could help with the doorknob, or at least loan me a couple of tools.

After ten minutes in my entryway working up my courage, I opened the door and stepped across the hall, knocked twice, and waited. Mere seconds later the door opened a few inches, the chain preventing it from going any wider.

“Dahlia? What’s wrong?” Suzy looked concerned.

In the background, the dull roar of a TV distracted me from replying, along with some kind of toy reciting the alphabet in a robotic tone.

“Sorry,” I said, twisting my fingers together in anxiety. “I know it’s getting late, but I needed to replace my doorknob and deadbolt, and I got home and realized I don’t have any tools. Could I borrow a screwdriver?”

“Oh,” Suzy said, relief evident on her face. “Hang on. Give me a second. We need to put the girls down for the night.”

She closed the door, and I sighed heavily. It was going to be easier than I thought. I couldn’t hide my surprise when Paul came out holding a small bag of tools.

“Hey, Suzy said you needed some help?”

“Um, uh, I actually only needed to borrow a screwdriver. I can do it, it’s fine.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll help you out.” He sounded casual, but men were great at making themselves seem innocent.

Not wanting to argue or make him mad, I mumbled thanks and headed across to my apartment to grab the package. Paul knelt down by my door and took the old knobs off. I stood in the hallway rather than inside my apartment. While he worked, I glanced up and down the hall, already planning my escape routes if anything weird happened.

Damn it, I was being silly. He was a husband and father and his wife was one wall away. He wouldn’t do anything.

Though, I’d seen husbands and fathers do terrible things all my life. Being married and having children didn’t inherently make a man a good person. Something I reminded myself of constantly.

“Why are we swapping these?” Paul asked, yanking me from my thoughts.

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