Chapter 5

Chris's POV

Okay.

So this is actually happening.

I actually got a client.

And no, before anyone asks, I’m not excited. Terrified? Absolutely. Confused? Definitely. But mostly, all I can think about is tuition.

That’s literally it.

Tuition.

Every thought in my brain somehow loops back to those damn fees.

The moment I stepped into Silver Slippers, my stomach started twisting itself into knots. I headed straight for Esteban’s office and found him talking to one of the women from the house. The second I walked in, both of them stopped talking.

They exchanged a look.

Yeah, not suspicious at all.

Esteban jerked his head toward the door, signaling for her to leave. She brushed past me on her way out, and okay — maybe I stared a second too long.

Not sexually.

Relax.

I was just… observing.

Anyway.

“Come here, kid,” Esteban called.

I walked over while he motioned for me to sit down across from his desk. As usual, there was a cigar hanging from his mouth while he adjusted himself in his chair. The effort it took for him to sit upright with that massive stomach almost made me laugh.

Almost.

“Yeah, so you got a client,” he said.

My chest tightened instantly.

He leaned closer across the desk.

“Now listen carefully. This guy’s a big deal around here. One of our top clients. Practically keeps this whole place running with the amount of money he spends. So whatever happens tonight, you make sure he leaves satisfied. Understand?”

Okay.

Now I was definitely about to throw up.

My first client had to be some terrifying rich psycho?

Fantastic.

“Y-Yeah,” I answered quickly. “I got you, E.”

The doubtful look on his face told me he absolutely did not believe me.

Then suddenly his hand shot forward and grabbed the collar of my shirt, yanking me across the desk so fast I nearly choked.

Immediately, the smell hit me.

Cigar smoke.

Tuna.

And something deeply unholy underneath both.

Honestly, surviving that smell deserved financial compensation on its own.

“I’m not fucking around, kid,” he growled in my face. “If you screw this up for me, I’ll make your life hell. You hear me?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I hear you!”

I raised both hands immediately.

“You don’t gotta worry. I won’t mess this up.”

He kept staring at me for another few uncomfortable seconds before finally shoving me back into the chair.

Who the hell was this client?

Because Esteban looked genuinely nervous, and that alone was enough to make me anxious.

“I’ll call you when it’s time,” he said finally. “You’ll get the pickup details later. This client is exclusive, so treat him like it. No attitude. No questions. Whatever he says goes. And if anything happens—”

“I get it,” I interrupted quickly. “I’ll behave.”

Because honestly, if he threatened me one more time, my anxiety was going to physically leave my body.

“Good. Keep your phone close.”

And that was that.

I left Silver Slippers with my brain still spinning.

At that point, I was already too late for whatever class I had left that day, so I figured I might as well just head home.

Assuming my father wasn’t there.

****************

I opened the apartment door carefully, almost praying for silence.

Locked.

Good.

That meant he wasn’t home yet.

Relief instantly loosened something in my chest.

I hated when my father was around. If he came home sober, he demanded money for alcohol. If he came home drunk, he used me as a punching bag while blaming me for my mother’s death.

Honestly, I don’t even like thinking about it too much.

Some memories should stay buried.

I headed straight to my room, locked the door, then shoved a chair beneath the doorknob for extra security.

Yeah. That part probably sounds insane.

But after the time he smashed a vase over my head, I stopped taking chances.

I could still feel the scar sometimes.

I tossed my bag across the room and collapsed onto my bed with a groan. Pulling out my phone, I checked the time.

4:47 PM.

Guess I just had to wait.

At some point, exhaustion dragged me into sleep without me even realizing it.

The next thing I knew, I woke up to my father’s slurred voice echoing through the apartment.

“Ch-Chrisss!”

My blood instantly ran cold.

“Chrissss!”

Each shout got louder.

More aggressive.

I stayed completely silent.

Experience had taught me that answering only made things worse.

Then came the pounding on my door.

“I know you’re in there!” he shouted. “Open the damn door for your father!”

The banging grew harder.

“I said OPEN IT, you little piece of shit!”

I sat frozen on the bed while his rage spilled through the wood.

“After everything I gave you… you took my wife away from me! You hear me? You fucking curse!”

His voice cracked halfway through the screaming.

Then slowly the anger dissolved into drunken sniffling.

A few minutes later, silence.

He’d finally stumbled off to his room.

I exhaled shakily and slid down onto the floor beside my bed.

That chair under the doorknob had become my survival mechanism.

I stayed there quietly for a while, just staring into nothing.

Eventually, I checked my phone again.

6:20 PM.

I sighed.

Guess the job wasn’t happening tonight after—

My phone suddenly rang.

I nearly jumped grabbing it.

Esteban.

“Get your ass up, kid,” he said the second I answered.

A pause.

“It’s time.”