Late nights
I was late.
Again.
My boss was gonna kill me.
Fuck.
I knew he was definitely capable of it, from the looks of him.
With worries and anxiety clouding my vision, spurring me on to run faster towards my workplace I ran into someone. Hard.
“Oefh.” The blonde huffed as he got shoved to the ground by the impact of my body.
“Watch where you’re going!” He exclaimed when both of us got back to our feet, mine already setting of in the direction I was heading, “Sorry! I’m late!” I called back.
I was gonna be in so much trouble.
I stormed into the apartment, seeing Natasha was already there, as were Scarlet and Samantha.
Nat furrowed her brow, she knew this wasn’t gonna end well for me.
As did I.
“James. You’re late, again!” The man roared, “You know that I can find a whore somewhere else. I don’t need you here.” Pierce threatened while I tried to right my clothes and slowed my breath, inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth.
“I know.” I squeaked, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I averted my eyes. Pierce liked obedience. Submissiveness. Sadistic fuck.
“No, it won’t. You’re fired.” Pierce hummed with a hint of a grin on his face.
“What? No, please- I need this job.” I stammered, “Please, I won’t ever be late again.” I begged him, seeing him turn around slowly with that awful grin on his face.
“Why would I keep you? The girls make more money anyway.” He shrugged and locked eyes with me, daring me to go on. To beg some more.
“Please. I’ll make more tonight, I promise.” I said, knowing that was a fool’s errand and a stupid thing to say, but what’s a man to do? Like I said, I really need this job.
“Really?” Pierce scoffed, disbelief written all over his features, “If you make more than 1.500 dollars tonight you can stay. I want everything tomorrow evening.” He agreed, before finishing, “Know that I will fire you if you don’t make it.”
~
The four of us made our way onto the street and I couldn’t help but sag my shoulders and let a groan escape.
God, I was so fucked.
“Why would you do that to yourself, you idiot.” Natasha said, whacking me up the head, “Why were you even late?”
I groaned, “Because I was still working. They wouldn’t fucking let me go. I ran all the way over here and hit a fucking stranger on my way too. I literally body slammed him to the pavement and was too busy getting here I didn’t even really apologize. Now I’m a dick and totally fucked. I’m gonna lose this job and lose my apartment.” I moaned.
“You can make it, I’m sure. We’ll try to help!” Scarlet offered.
“Thanks, but I’ll never make that. Who makes that much in one night?” I groaned.
“Well, you’re gonna have to, so stop pouting and start attracting customers. You look like shit when you’re down.” Samantha said.
“Thanks.” I grumbled, straightening up a bit, cause I knew she was right.
“She’s right. Stand still, just-, better.” Natasha hummed to herself while pulling my clothes and fixing my hair. Trying to, anyway.
“I still don’t understand why you won’t cut it.” She said, pointing at my hair.
“You’d attract more customers if you did.” Scarlet finished.
“I like this length. Now, good night to you girls, I’ll find my own way, I guess. No way I’m letting you distract my customers.” I said with false confidence and turned away.
“Be safe out there, okay? Don’t do stupid stuff because you need the money.” Natasha warned before repeating, “Be safe!”
“You too.” I said before making my way over to the bars and clubs I knew would make me some money. Working this job got you weird skills, man. I knew what corners of the streets would be filled with drunk people, horny people and desperate people. Sometimes all of them at once.
That knowledge earned me exactly five hundred dollars already. Easy stuff, too. Blow jobs, hand jobs or just making out. Like I said, desperate.
Five hundred bucks wasn’t near enough, but it was a good start. And I still had a few hours to go.
I quickly found a new customer in a bar. Most of my customers were guys.
Women around here didn’t really do prostitutes much. So guys it was.
I didn’t really mind anyway.
The guy swayed to the music, leaned into me and whispered he wanted to get back to his hotel. I smiled and told him to lead the way.
The guy seemed like he had the money for it. And he wasn’t ugly either. Short black hair, looked like he hit the gym regularly, tanned skin. Said his name was Brock.
All fine, nothing sketchy.
After hailing a cab, we drove to his hotel. His hotel was hidden between a bunch of tall buildings. Ugly cement ones with wonky windows and broken glass. But his hotel seemed to be one of the better buildings.
But before we made it towards the door, Brock pulled me to the side and pushed me against a wall.
“Hey-, wait.” I felt the adrenaline rushing into me. This job wasn’t safe. At all. Time had proven that to me.
He shifted his hands, keeping both of my wrists pinned in his righthand while curling his other hand under my shirt. I felt goosebumps breaking out all over my skin.
“Stop! This wasn’t the deal.” I tried to make it sound stern, or scary or threatening. It came out unsteady, my voice filled with stress and fear.
“New deal. I just take you here. Shouldn’t matter now, should it?” He growled, pushing me to the ground.
Everything turned to slow-motion. My body felt like it was vibrating under the stress. I managed to free one of my hands from his hold on my wrists and attempted to punch him, but he was too quick and held my hands down. I knew I’d have bruises there. If not everywhere.
Brock shoved me down and my back suddenly hit a wall, the roughness of the cement scaping over my shirt and my head slamming against the concrete. I felt a dull pain blooming at the back of my head.
Fighting wasn’t an option now. The man was almost twice as big and definitely had the upper-hand here.
“Help!” I yelled, “He-“ I tried, but a hand muffled my cries that quickly turned into hiccupping groans as he undid my belt. I closed my eyes, preparing for what was about to happen and dreading it to come, when suddenly his weight disappeared from my body.
I looked up, confused at what had just happened when I saw him: a tall, blond guy, built like a house standing in front of me. Protecting me.
“You think that’s fair?” The blonde asked before kicking Brock in the ribs. Brock scrambled up, trying to deflect any other incoming punches or kicks. He wasn’t the one with the upper-hand anymore.
“Pick on someone your own size.” The blond said before he kicked him in the ass, watching Brock running out of the alley. The blond muttered, “Punk.” Before turning around. Apparently satisfied that Brock had really gone.
The blond looked me over and stuck out his hand to help me up and only when his hand was right in front of me I managed to snap out of my dazed state. What the hell had just happened?
The blond was patient enough to wait for me to hesitantly grab his hand and he pulled me up with no effort. I righted my clothes with shaking hands and unsteady legs and looked at the mystery man with big eyes. He must’ve noticed I was still a little panic-y.
“Are you okay? Can I call someone for you or-? I’m Steve, by the way.” The blond said in a soft tone.
I hesitantly replied, “Eh... no, please don’t. And I'm-, I'm Bucky.”
I fell silent, looking at the alley around me before my eyes snapped back to Steve’s, realizing I still had to make almost a thousand dollars before morning came. No one wanted to fuck a prostitute in the morning.
Shit.
“Well, Bucky, maybe it’d be best if you come with me. Just to check if you’re okay. I’m in the hotel around the corner.” Steve explained slowly, before giving me another once over, “Can you walk?” He asked, looking incredibly innocent and sweet.
“Yeah, I think so.” I mumbled while my hand went to the back of my head, which felt a bit wet and warm. My fingers returned red.
“Oh, shit.” I muttered as I stared at my fingers.
Steve shifted his gaze from my face to my crimson fingers, before looking back up to my face, “You’re hurt. Where?” He asked. His brows were pulled together in concentration, assessing the situation.
I slowly brought my hand back up to my head and felt my hair was drenched with blood. The strands were knotted together into clumps already, and my neck felt slick with sweat and warm blood.
“Your head? That’s not good. You think you might have a concussion? Let’s get you inside quickly.”