Chapter 3

Candy and the girls laughed at me for my frugal ways. When they saw my phone, they looked horrified. It was an old flip phone; it worked, and that was good enough for me.

The next day when I clocked in at the restaurant, it was busy, and I liked that. It kept me from thinking about my life.

One week after the incident at the club, it was reopened. When I got to the door, Mike wasn’t there; another guy was there. “Sorry, the club is still closed,”

he said, blocking me.

“I work here.”

“Badge?” he asked. I reached for it and then remembered I lost it. I groaned out loud. I saw Pedro walking up.

“I don’t have my badge, and he won’t let me in,” I said, looking at him. He slapped his hand to his head.

“I completely forgot to make you another one. She’s okay. She’s one of mine. She lost her badge in the shit show that happened. “Come on, I’ll get Sandy to make you one before the night is out,” he said, leading me in. The guy at the door just stared at me.

“Who’s he, and where’s Mike?”

“Mike was a part of that shit show too,” he said with a sigh. He walked with me all the way to the employee lounge; everyone was in there.

“Now girls, I need you to listen to me. If you see anything, and I mean anything, suspicious at all, alert security. One of you could have gotten hurt. Thank God none of you were. “Be careful, girls, okay?” he said.

“Yes, Pedro,” we all answered.

Pedro was unlike anyone; yes, we were servers. Some were dancers, but he respected us all despite what we did in the club.

“Shit, this is bad,” Halie said.

“Bad doesn’t even cover it,” Cindy, one of the dancers, said.

“You girls be careful on the floor,” Holly, a dancer, said.

“You guys too.” By eleven the club was packed. I guess people missed having their usual dance and drinks.

It’s been three weeks since the whole shootout, and everything was back to normal. I clocked out at two and said bye to the girls. Tonight was a good night. I made 6K in tips. That meant I could pay the next four months' rent, do a bit of shopping, and the rest went into my bank account.

My aim was bioengineering, developing, and researching. For that, I was studying for my PhD online. I had no doubt that I would make it. I intended to save enough to study abroad. Despite the current situation, I was hopeful.

 On the way home I kept my head down and walked. I was passing by the laundromat when I stopped. A chill ran down my spine. I spun around, but there wasn’t anyone in the streets. I kept walking but couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

When I made it safely into my apartment, I let out a sigh of relief. My phone rang and startled me. I almost dropped the damn phone. I looked at the number; it wasn’t one I knew, but I answered anyway.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” the voice said

“Umm, I think you have the wrong number.”

“I don’t have time to waste, Tattia. Where are you?” the man said. I took a deep breath.

“Like I said, you have the wrong number. This isn’t Tattia.”

“And who is this?” he asked. Why I said it I would never know.

“Alessandra”

And may I ask how old you are?” He asked, and I let out a sigh.

“I’m not a minor; that is for sure.”

“Well, thank God for that. It does indeed seem I have the wrong number. Alessandra, is it?” he asked

“Yes.”

“Well hello Alessandra, my name is Zane. Now if you’ll excuse me. “I need to call my sister,” he said and hung up. I just looked at the phone in my hand. Well, that was weird. I dropped my stuff and grabbed a shower and went straight to bed.

 Little did I know answering that call would change my life in so many ways that I would have wished I had never answered it.

I woke up the next morning to a text message from the same number.

“Thank you for being honest. If you hadn’t, my sister would have been in serious trouble.” There was a link attached to it. I didn’t click it; I just left it as is and went about my morning. It was Sunday, and my routine was to eat, relax, read a book, and get some sleep.

 I was having my coffee when my phone rang. I checked and saw the same number again. I hesitated but answered in the end.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Alessandra. Did you check the link I sent to you?” He asked, his tone sounding playful.

“No, I did not.”

“Why not? It’s actually interesting,” he said, and I could tell he was smiling. I let out a sigh.

“My phone does not have access to social media; I doubt whether I would be interested in anything social media has to offer.”

“I’m sorry. This is the twentieth century, and you don’t have a social media account?” he asked.

“Yes, that is correct. Why are you calling me?”

“Because believe it or not, you’re the first person I’ve ever spoken to that has no contempt for me in their voice,” he replied, and suddenly I felt bad.

“Sorry, I just. I’m not really used to speaking—well, speaking to people over the phone. I just use it for work, and that’s it.”

“So how do your family members contact you?” he asked, and I paused for a moment before answering.

“I’m alone. It’s just me.”

“I’m sorry. Well, let me introduce myself. My name is Zane Anthony, and you are?” he asked.

“Alessandra Cole”

“Well, I guess we can be friends, can’t we?” he asked.

“Sure, I guess.”

“Good. Tell me about yourself.” he said, and I started laughing.

“Care to share the joke?” he replied.

“You. You actually think I’m just going to tell you about myself, a stranger. “No way,” I said, laughing.

“Fine. You will eventually. I can promise you, I’m not a psycho killer or anything,” he said.

“If you say so.”

“Well, first order of business. You need a phone with access to the internet that way I can share anything with you,” he said.

“Thank you, but no thank you. That’s not necessary.”

“It actually is. I’m not asking for your address. “Give me your workplace address, and I’ll send it there,” he replied.

“Like I said, it’s not necessary.”

“Are you always this stubborn?” he asked.

“Always. Have a good day, Zane. I need to take care of some things.”