Chapter 8

Diane's POV

The moment I get back from work, I toss my purse across the room and slump onto the bed with an exhale.

I shut my eyes for a brief moment, then open them and gaze at the ceiling, my mind a jumbled mess.

This isn't the life I dreamed for myself, but do I even have any choice? Life is all about pros and cons actually, and it seems like the cons surrounding mine are heavy and I can't run away from them even if I want to.

Debts here and there and my brother to bail. Come to think of it, Conrad should have sent a part of the money already, shouldn't he? He said he wouldn't send everything at once because he believed I could disappear with it.

A freak.

I stand up from the bed, then walk to where I tossed my purse earlier, grab it and take my phone.

Blank.

There isn't any notification that says I've received something from Conrad or anything. I don't hesitate. I click on his number and send him a message.

After the message goes through, I walk into the bathroom to freshen up and rinse my mind of the day's activities.

***

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as I sit in the living room, taking slow sips while scrolling through my phone.

I've just taken my shower and of course, had my dinner, and right now, I'm all alone. I barely have friends; well, except two, and right now, the two friends aren't even in the city. The only person I have is my brother, but he's locked up and I'm all alone. It's safe to say I'm a loner, literally, but it's not like there's anything I can do.

A warm smile tugs at the corner of my lips when my phone beeps.

A notification. From Conrad. He must have received my text, and right now, a part of my pay is sitting pretty in my account.

At least this part payment will go a long way. I'll settle some of the debts first so the loan sharks won't grab me and lock me up, because if they do, I won't be able to get my brother out.

Freak. Thanks for the pay.

I have no plans to call him. His voice alone makes my stomach churn and I want to throw up my guts, so instead, I choose to send him a message that I've received the money. No long talks. No appreciation. I sold my body after all.

Conrad: I think I should receive a proper thank you, don't you think?

His message reads, and I can't stop myself from scoffing hard.

Screw him and thank him. The money isn't a gift or a charity case. I would have kowtowed to him till my forehead bled.

Silence.

I don't bother to reply to the message. I continue scrolling through the phone when another message pops up.

Conrad: Miss Hall, I hope you're not ignoring my text? If you are, then believe me, you're gonna pay with your ass.

My teeth grind and my chest twists into knots.

God, I hate this son of a freak.

Me: What do you want from me? Thank you? There you have it. Thank you, Conrad Beaumont.

I type the message with my entire face red with rage, as if he can see how pissed off I am.

He sends a smirking emoji, and then his next message comes.

Conrad: There's an event coming up soon and you'll be attending it with me. I'll send you details about it tomorrow morning.

I stare at the message for a brief moment, my thoughts racing, heart pulsating in my chest.

An event... An event.

The words can't leave my mind even when I want them to, because I know deep down within me, I know...

That there's more to it.

I instantly jolt out of my thoughts when my phone begins ringing in my hands. Sighing, I glance down to see who's calling.

My brows pull up questioningly as I stare at the caller, wondering why he's calling.

My boss from the clubhouse. Why is he calling?

With a sharp exhale, I click the answer button and press the phone tightly to my ear.

"Hello?" I whisper, rather inaudibly.

"It's been days, Diane. Why haven't you resumed work?"

Jeez!!

My anger shimmers just beneath the surface as I shut my eyes, trying to calm myself. I hate to speak rashly or based on my emotions.

But... is this why he called? I mean, I was taken from the clubhouse that night and none of them cared to know how I was faring.

Not even an attempt? If not for Conrad, I might still be behind bars for a crime I know nothing about, and when he calls, instead of asking how I'm doing, if I'm out or whatever, he asks straight up why I haven't been coming to work?

Bullshit.

"Diane..." his voice comes softly.

I sigh. "I quit." I reply softly from my end, and there's a pause from his, just the sound of his breathing blaring softly from the speaker.

He sighs softly. "You quit the work without letting anyone know? Diane? What happened?" he queries further, and it takes all my self-control not to bash him with hurtful words.

I mean, he knows about everything. Every fucking thing, and he's still trying to play ignorant?

Perfect.

I'm not going to spill anything to him since he wants to play ignorant.

I smile. "I quit because I needed a rest. Nothing happened."

He chuckles sharply. "Come on, Diane, don't tell me you quit because of what happened the other day. You're out now and that's..."

"Oh just shut the trap!!" I cut in, my voice sharp like the edge of a blade. He seems shocked because he gasps from his end.

"Just shut that trap, because the more you talk, the more irritated and offended I become. Because of what happened the other day? Can you hear yourself talk? One of your best strippers was taken by the cops while attending to a customer, your company didn't bother to check, and now that I'm out, you've suddenly gotten your wits back to sprout crap?" I hiss, head spinning with rage.

"Diane, you're being overly dramatic here. We couldn't get in because we didn't..."

"I'm being overly dramatic and that's fine by me. Don't ever bother to contact me, because I'm done and done for good." I cut in again, hanging up on the call.

To hell with him and his explanation.

This is the height of it. I had no plans to snap breathlessly like I'm doing right now, but that man forced me to. What is he saying? I'm being dramatic? Or I'm not even supposed to react the way I did? They completely abandoned me and he thinks I'll be excited to jump back on the stage and twirl my ass for his audience?

Screw him.

Screw that man and his clubhouse.

My phone begins ringing again, and a sharp groan tears from my lips.

Him again? I don't pick up. I reject the call and instantly block his damn number, but a message pops up on my screen. An unknown number?

My heart instantly skips a beat as I stare at the message.