THE MORNING AFTER

002

AUGUST

The sun was harsh.

It bled through the curtains, stinging my eyelids and piercing my skull. My lips were swollen, my thighs were sore in the worst and best way.

The sheet reeked of sex, sweat, whiskey, and expensive cologne that didn't belong to me.

Nightshade’s cologne.

I groaned, rolling over dragging the sheets with me.

The memories of last night hit me like a bomb.

We went round after round, until I cried and passed out.

Everything hit me. The way his hands memorized every inch of my body, how I trembled under him.

He was rough, but he wasn't reckless. Like he was taking his time. I remembered faintly how he patted my head to sleep, slowly taking off the blindfold.

The last thing I heard was, “Sleep August, you had earned it.”

There was some sort of familiarity with the way he patted my head.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand, bringing me back from my thoughts. I reluctantly grabbed it, squinting at the screen.

One missed call from Ama, my neighbor,

Three missed calls from my landlord,

And one text message.

I wasn't in the mood for my landlord's tantrums.

Maybe NightShade wanted to see me again. But he could have sent a message on Blink.

I tapped the message open, no name, no picture, nothing. Just a message.

“I liked watching you last night.”

Watching me?

How? I thought the essence of Veil was discretion?

I looked around, trying to spot the cameras, but I saw nothing.

I stared at the message blankly until the screen dimmed.

Maybe it was someone from Blink. People get weird all the time. Or maybe someone I had hooked up with was just trying to play a fast one on me.

Nightshade was nowhere to be found either.

I tried to push it aside, brushing it off as someone from Blink. But my gut didn't believe me.

I got up, getting dressed to leave. I wasn't comfortable here, I needed to get to my apartment.

My whole body was sore, but I managed to drag myself out. I booked an Uber ride back home.

When I got home, I went through the back to avoid my landlord. I owed six months’ rent and he said I either pay up or leave.

I got in through the back, heading straight for the bathroom. I peeled off my clothes and entered the bathroom.

I caught my reflection in the mirror, my eyeliner smudged, my hair in an unholy mess, and faint red handprints on my ass. Now I understood why the Uber driver was smiling when I entered.

Oh God.

I turned on the shower, letting the water cascade down my back. I let the steam burn my back as if it could push away the thought of being seen. I couldn't shake this feeling off. It didn't come as the kind of kink that would make my chest warm or make my cock twitch. This was different.

I walked out of the shower, wrapped in my robe. My stomach growled and all the thoughts went down the drain. I had only thirty dollars to my name. I opened the fridge to see one can of soda, leftover rice that looks questionable, and half-used tomato paste.

I slammed the fridge door shut, falling face-flat onto bed. I picked up my phone, scrolling through job offers.

Nanny with live-in creeps- I’ll pass.

Diner shifts that I'd break my back for pennies.

I was about to shut my phone off when one offer stopped me cold.

LIVE IN HOUSE KEEPER WANTED.

Full room, a weekly payment of a thousand dollars. discretion required.

EMPLOYER: Levi Slate.

LOCATION: Private Estate.

I had heard this name somewhere, but I just couldn't place where.

Quickly I googled his name and his picture popped up.

“Levi Slate, right-hand man to Lucien Hale, owner of multiple businesses and food chains in Los Angeles.”

Lucien Hale.

It couldn't be. The first name was different and besides, if he were alive, he would have found me by now.

I went back to the ad. No picture, just a contact email.

My phone dinged again. The same anonymous number.

“See you soon August”

Way to forget about the stalker.

I deleted the text and contacted the email.

At least I wouldn't have to deal with my landlord breathing down my neck.

As much as I tried to ignore it, I couldn't help but feel watched. Suddenly my robe felt too thin, my house became smaller.

“I am interested.” I typed and sent it to the email.

I got a reply almost immediately.

“Interview tomorrow by 10 am, with the address attached.”

The address was exactly what I guessed. Los feliz glass mansion. Which was owned by Lucien Hale. No wonder they asked for discretion.

Lucien Hale had never been seen. There's no picture of him on the internet. He was always in the shadows while his secretary worked for him.

Whispers on the street were that he was either ugly, disabled, or wrinkled. That's why he never shows his face.

His secretary wasn't bad, but he was too stoic for my liking.

I scattered my wardrobe, looking for what to wear tomorrow for the interview.

I picked out a black tank top, a low-rise flared jeans, and black Prada loafers.

I always invested in my looks, which was half of the reason why I was broke. I wasn't about to cramp up my style for some dumb interview.

If I were going to live in his house, he had to accept my style.

My phone buzzed again.

“You’ll look good there”

What the actual fuck was going on?

Someone was watching me. This person knew my name, where I lived, and the fact that I had an interview tomorrow.

I ignored the eerie feeling, turning my phone off.

I contemplated calling Ama, but it was obviously about my rent. I was very sure my landlord came banging at my door this morning.

I hope I get the job tomorrow, that's the only thing that could save me. One thousand dollars a week was enough to change my life. Imagine working for months? And still not paying rent?

It'll be enough for me to get an apartment and start a business.

I let my imagination run wild, before sleep came, dragging me in.