Chapter Text
It’ll be fun, he said. A good chance to look at babes, he said. You’ll get extra tips on top of overtime, he said.
This. Fucking. Sucks.
Vaggie grit her teeth as she laid out the seventh tray of drinks. Her back ached, her fingers were freezing from the cooling truck, her thighs were threatening to tremble from all the stairs she’d had to travel, and she was a thousand percent positive she was sweating through her deodorant.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
“Tilt your head, darling! Oh yes! Now smile. Smile more. Okay, dial it back, kid, you’re freaking me out. There we go!”
The sound of the cameras went off again. Do they ever stop? Is a million photos not enough for these assholes?
She tightened her cap on her head. Reaching for the emptied plate of horderves, she cursed the emptiness of her wallet. If she’d just had, say, forty more bucks to last until tomorrow then she never would have agreed to this. Fuckin’ Henry and his stupid ass silver tongue… I’m going to punch him right in the cigar next time he tries to convince me to cater for him. Then I’ll shove my foot so far up his ass that he’ll be spitting laces for a week!
Henry, her boss, had told Vaggie the overtime and tips would be worth it. That he’d even give her a little bonus in thanks. She thought, sure, why not? What’s a couple hours of being invisible around rich snobs and models compared to some extra dough in the bank? Surely she wouldn’t find her whole day ruined because of it. Not when she had such fun plans for when she clocked out.
Yeah right. Fun plans, my ass. I’m just gonna go home, shove Anthony off the couch, and watch Netflix until I pass out. Hopefully I make enough to order a pizza, too.
She loaded the empty plates into the tub beneath her arm and started back to the truck. Like a fireman line, one of her coworkers (Bob? Bill? Blaze? She couldn’t remember) took the tub from her and continued down the building. Turning on her heel, she went back to the many, many, cloth lined tables.
Her stomach growled at the sight of all the finger foods. The Prosecco looked good, too. Vaggie wanted nothing more than to cram some mini sandwiches in her mouth and chase them down with a good, alcoholic, hella expensive, and bubbly drink. She did her best to ignore both urges.
I’m sober, I’m sober, I’m sober. My life is better without it. No more waking up in bushes, no more sloppy make outs with strangers, and no more raging hangovers. No more, no more, no more.
She had something far more important to care about now.
I need to pick up some orange juice on the way home. Pizza lasts awhile, so I can make due with just a slice. But she needs orange juice. If I don’t get it, I’ll have to ask the neighbors again and fuck that. Nosy bitch. Always snooping on us when we’re outside, telling me to give her more layers… She gets hot! If I gave her another layer she’d sweat straight through it and freeze! Then you’d just think I’m a lousy piece of shit.
Gripping the next tray with angry fingers, she turned to grab another tub. She was halfway moved when she nearly bumped into a pair of bra-clad breasts.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” the breasts said quickly. Vaggie’s spine tingled at their voice. She kept her head down. “I didn’t mean—! I’m terribly sorry, Miss, that’s totally my fault!”
Vaggie grunted and stepped aside. She wanted as far away from those things as possible.
She was happy when they didn’t follow her.
Happy… but disappointed.
Shaking her head a little, Vaggie grabbed another armload of empty trays, plates, flutes, and dirty silverware before giving them back to her coworker. “It’s your break,” the dude said, his gruff voice interrupting her fuming. “You get a fifteen. Then Michelle needs you to help her with dishes.”
She gave a curt nod. Wiping her hands off on the front of her uniform— a basic black tee with the bar’s logo on front— she headed towards the room next door. It had been set up with a few couches and a cooler of refreshments. Vaggie wished it was farther away and that the doorway had an actual fucking door, but she guessed it would do. She sat beside another coworker and groaned.
“Yeah,” Cherri nodded, “I fuckin’ hear ya. My feet are killin’ me.”
“Mine too.” She grunted, reaching to pull off her cap and then dropping her hand into her lap instead. She settled for fanning herself. “Fuck… I can’t believe it’s so hot in here. Do we have a fan?”
Cherri shrugged, her ponytail bobbing slightly. The pink of her dyed hair caught the light for the briefest moment. “They probably want it warm for the set. Don’t wanna make the underwear models cold.” She hooked her thumb to the closed balcony. “You do know it’s freezing outside, though, right? It is November.”
Right. Like I could forget it’s the first of the month.
She got back on her feet. “If you need me, you know where I’ll be.” Taking long strides, Vaggie went to the glass door of the balcony. The whole wall was glass, the doorframe a thick black outline separating the illusion of open freedom. Yanking the handle, she stepped out into the autumn air.
In an instant all the heat left her. Breathing a sigh of relief, Vaggie leaned on the railing. Down below the traffic looked minuscule. They were well over two hundred feet up, the imposing building standing sentry over the upper end of the city she called home now.
I bet I can see my apartment from here .
Turning her head to the south, she squinted at the various glares from neighboring buildings. She had to lean a little to the side, her hands gripping the rail tight to keep her balance, but she could just barely make out the edge of her apartment complex. It was on the outskirts of the city, nearly in the suburbs, but it was there. And inside, probably taking a nap, was the one person she wanted to see most.
I almost missed her birthday party… Her first one and I almost fucking missed it. God, I’m a horrible person. Anthony said she cried…
Vaggie pressed her lips together. A harsh breeze made her shiver.
“Are you cold? Here.”
She stiffened just as a fuzzy, oversized, and atrociously pink hoodie was pulled around her shoulders. The residual heat of their owner immediately began to bleed into her. Despite how nice it felt, coupled with the intoxicatingly sweet perfume still clinging to the fabric, Vaggie felt the urge to throw the whole thing over the rail. She balled her fist instead. “Thanks,” she grunted.
“It’s no problem! I run hot anyways. My mom always says I’m like a furnace.”
Trust me , I know that.
Tall, creamy pale skin, legs for miles , a melodic voice, and naturally bouncy blonde hair… the owner of those breasts from before leaned against the rail with her. A new scent carried over the wind; honeydew. The woman held a vape up to her lips and took a short pull. She exhaled a second time.
“So,” the woman started as she looked down at the city, “Working hard? You all have been moving around pretty quick. You look, like, super busy. Like little bees! I love bees. They’re so cute and silly; just floating around by flowers and bumping into everything. Do you like bees?”
Vaggie frowned. Who the fuck asks about bees?
… She does. She asks about bees.
Vaggie gave a noncommittal shrug. The scent of honeydew blew back at her again. Just as she was trying to get a bigger whiff of the secondhand nicotine, her spit caught in her throat. She began coughing.
“Oh shit! I’m sorry! I didn’t ask if I could vape near you!” A warm hand began patting her on the back as she tried to breathe. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. “Do you have asthma? I’ll stop! I’m so fucking sorry, I should have— Vaggie?”
Her head stopping its incessant shaking in denial of having asthma, Vaggie caught her breath just long enough to inhale before losing it as soon as piercing blue eyes peered at her. Trying to keep some semblance of pride, she choked out a pathetic, “Who?”
The model’s face slowly split into a smile. “It is you!” She smiled harder, “It’s me; Charlie! Do you remember?”
As if I’ll ever be allowed to forget.
Before she could respond, Charlie kept talking. “From, like, two years ago? We met at that party? And… you know . We hung out for that whole week?”
‘Hung out’ my ass. That was the longest week of my life.
“You know… Charlie? The awkward blonde? The one you called a crazy bitch?”
Sucking in a deep breath, her words came back to her. “My break’s over. I gotta go.”
“But— hey! Wait!” Charlie’s hand wrapped around her wrist and stopped her just as she opened the balcony door. “We should catch up! Maybe grab a drink? Or dinner? It’ll be fun!”
“Sorry, princesa, but I—“ she grit her teeth, already caught. She cursed her slip up.
“So you do remember,” Charlie chuckled. Her hand slid down Vaggie’s wrist, teased at her fingers, before dropping back to her side. “You called me that all the time. How could I forget a pretty voice like that?”
How could I forget a woman like you?
Shaking those thoughts away, Vaggie stepped through the door. To her demise, Charlie’s long legs kept stride with her. “So you work for Henry? That’s cool. He seems pretty chill.” She rapidly turned the topic backwards, “What do you say? Dinner? We could have some wine and—“
“I don’t drink.” Anymore. That’s your fault.
“Oh. That’s fine! Maybe coffee then? I know a great place down by the boulevard that—“
Vaggie turned to her with a huff. “I hate to be rude, but some of us are working right now.” Charlie’s face fell. Despite the ache in her chest it caused, Vaggie kept talking. “I have bills to pay, princesa; I can’t just sit here and chat with you. Now let me go back to my job.”
Charlie gave a glum nod. Her eyes, so bright and vibrant— like a shot of electric neon ink in the shade of azul— darkened. “Oh… right. I’m sorry. I’ll just… yeah.” She took a step back. Then, biting her lip, she reached into her pocket. Then she patted her pocket, cursed quietly, and glanced to Vaggie’s hair. “Can I, uh, maybe borrow your pen?”
Vaggie’s eye narrowed. “Why?”
“Well, you see, I have some documents to sign before I leave and… uh… I lost mine.”
Always losing something, this bitch. “Fine,” she grumbled. Reaching back and pulling the one from her bun poking through the back of her cap, Vaggie thrusted it at her. “But I want it back. It’s my only one and I need it.” She actually did. She’s been losing them for weeks now and needed them to do paperwork while closing the bar. This pen was her last remaining writing utensil that wasn’t vomiting ink every time she pressed it to paper.
Charlie’s lips curled at the edges. She gingerly took the red cartridge, “Thanks. Find me when you’re done and I’ll give it back. I promise.”
Nodding and losing her patience, Vaggie whipped back around and returned to her job. The whole time she walked, she felt pale blue eyes follow her.
They followed her the rest of the day.
Soaked in sweat and pissed off at this point in the afternoon, her work day finally over, Vaggie slammed the truck’s back doors shut. She gave it a firm slap to let the driver know they were good. The tail lights came to life, flickered, and the tires slowly began to make their way down the alley.
Finally… it’s over. I can go home and—
“Hey.”
Shit!
Looking up to the side entrance of the building, Vaggie found that Charlie was smiling lazily at her.
Vaggie grumbled angrily, “What do you want?”
The model pouted. “You worked hard today… I thought you deserved this.” She held out some green between her fingers.
Vaggie took it. She spied it over, a frown materializing on her face as she saw what it was. “Most people tip in ones, gringa. Not hundreds.” She held it back out. “I can’t accept this.”
Charlie pushed her outstretched hand away. “Take it. I wasn’t lying when I said you worked hard. You were the only one I saw that was hauling the heavy crates of bottles around.” She gave a slow grin, “You’ve been working out.”
Vaggie hated how her cheeks heated up. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not taking your money, Charlie.”
Once again, the model smiled at her.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just… Everyone else calls me Charlotte.” Her head cocked to the side, her blonde tresses gently fluttering in the breeze. “But I like when you call me Charlie. It’s nice.”
“That’s your name; what else should I call you?”
Charlie shrugged. She pulled her purse over her shoulder. “So… about that coffee? I’m free now if you wanna—“
“Can’t. Henry needs me back at the warehouse for inventory. Plus I have a date tonight.”
The model’s face fell for the briefest second. Then she was smiling again. “That’s awesome. Well I hope you have fun. Maybe I’ll see you around some time?”
“Sure. Now take your money.”
Charlie was already walking away, her long legs carrying her over the pavement and her heels clicking quietly. “Bye Vaggie!”
What the fuck…?
Vaggie shook her head, fighting down the butterflies in her stomach. She pulled out the keys in her pocket and started for her car.
Vaggie twisted the keys in the lock and gave a hard shove, the door creaking angrily in its stiffness. The sight of Anthony sitting on their couch with headphones on and a gaming controller in his hands was no surprise. He gave her a nod in greeting. “Wassup.”
“Hey,” she sighed. She set her wallet down on the table by the door. She tossed him the keys. “Thanks for letting me borrow your car. Your engine light’s on again.”
“Yeah I saw that. You get any dinner on the way home?”
“Not yet. I thought we’d order pizza.” She kicked her shoes off. “Is she awake?”
Anthony snorted. “She never went to sleep.” He moved his elbow up, revealing a very unhappy face pressed into his side.
Vaggie strode forward and sat on the couch. “Oh, you’re grumpy ,” she grinned. “Are you having a bad day, Locket? Are you upset because Anthony’s been ignoring you? Oh your hair is messy. ”
Brushing silver curls aside, Vaggie caught the little pouty features of her daughter. Locket whined and reached out her hands. “Mi-mi-mi,” she gently cooed. Vaggie took her in her arms and kissed her cheek.
“Mommy,” she said softly, hoping to get Locket to copy her. “ Mom-my. Come on— Mommy.”
Locket blinked. Then, “Mi-mi…”
Sighing, Vaggie took the small victory where she could. We’ll get to ‘mommy’ eventually… “Was she good? No crying or fussiness?”
“As if she’s ever crying or fussy,” Anthony rolled his eyes. “We played for hours. She tore the shit out of my cards, by the way.”
“Sorry.”
“S’not a big deal, babe.” He mashed the buttons of his controller, cursing as he missed a three-sixty no scope. He took a bullet to the head and died on screen. He cursed again. “There goes my score… Fuck.” Anthony set the controller in his lap, grabbed his nearby energy drink, and took a sip. His eyes glanced to her. “How was work?”
Vaggie shrugged, Locket’s little fingers toying with the ends of her hair as she held her. “Long. Boring. Saw a bunch of practically naked women, though, so that’s a plus.”
“Get any numbers?”
“Anthony…”
He held a hand up in surrender, “I’m just asking. You could use a new girl to hang off of. It’s been, what? Over a year since the last one? Fuck that bitch, by the way.”
“Fuck that bitch,” Vaggie nodded in agreement. She kissed Locket’s cheek again, her daughter’s eyes tired and her lips pert. She didn’t have her usual ‘I’m so sleepy but I missed you so give me kisses’ face. Vaggie frowned at her. “When was the last time she ate?”
Anthony thought for a moment. “Uh… A few hours ago? I gave her the rest of my chicken nuggets. Why?”
“She looks out of it…” Reaching into her pant pocket, Vaggie pulled out her phone. She unlocked it, opened the app, and held it up. She frowned harder as she looked at Locket’s glucose numbers. “She’s a little low… I’ll go ahead and order the pizza. You like pizza, right Locket? Some yummy cheese and pepperoni bites? Yeah?”
Locket didn’t say anything— not that a one year old could— and put her hand in her mouth. She began chewing on her fingers.
Vaggie pulled that little hand away and checked her mouth. She could make out the tiniest little nubs in her gums where her canines were finally pushing through. “Are your teeth coming in? Do you need something to bite on, baby? Here,” she held up Anthony’s arm and offered it forward. “He likes when he’s bitten.”
Anthony jerked away with a small yelp before Locket could do anything. “No! No biting Daddy! Not again!”
Giggling, Vaggie let her daughter go back to chewing on her hand. “Shit hurts, right? Now you know why I quit breastfeeding.”
He grumbled angrily at her.
“Okay,” she sighed, picking her phone back up. “Pizza time. What do you want?”
“Meat lover’s, duh . You need some cash?”
She shook her head, “Nah, I got it. Some model gave me a hundred dollar tip.” And then some, but I’m not about to tell him that. Its going straight in the piggy bank.
Anthony nodded, his head tipped back to drain the last of his drink. He pulled away with a small pant, “The same one who gave you the jacket?”
“What?” She looked down, finding the bright pink hoodie still around her. “Oh fuck… How did I miss that? ”
“Probably the tits that were in them. Were they good?”
The best tits of my life… “I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t looking.” Pulling out the wad of cash and hiding it behind Locket’s body, Vaggie sorted through them.
“Did you get her number?”
“This again? Dude . I don’t need…” She trailed off, a strip of red catching her eye on the cash. She straightened the clumped paper and read what was on it.
A phone number.
Followed quickly by a heart.
And ‘call me’ written in an all too familiar elegant scrawl.
“Woah-ho-ho!” Anthony clapped her thigh as he spied the digits. “Get it girl! You impressed a rich one! I told you your ass is gold.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her with a grin. “Do it. Call her up. Get your pussy smashed ,” he sang.
Vaggie grit her teeth. “No.”
“Why not?” He whined. “You deserve it! Did that last bitch even make you cum?” She pursed her lips together, Locket squirming against her hold. “That’s what I thought… Just call her. Maybe she’s secretly a dominatrix and you can be on the bottom again.”
I was on the bottom for her…
“Shut up and tell me what sides you want.”
Later, as she was pacing the floors of her bedroom and bouncing a sleepy Locket, Vaggie stared at that phone number. She’d used a few twenties she’d had tucked in her sock drawer to buy dinner, insisting that she was just gonna break the hundred at the store later to make it go further. She’d set the marked cash on top of her dresser, hoping to ignore it.
But as she looked at those digits, she felt herself itching to give them a call.
She was so beautiful… And I missed her voice… Does she still think of me like that? Probably, right? Considering she was so eager to talk to me?
No… Charlie’s just nice. She’s always been nice.
And besides… she made it clear she didn’t want to see me again.
Vaggie groaned, her head dropping to Locket’s shoulder. Tiny fingers fisted at the jacket still around her. Vaggie leaned back up, Locket’s little eyes watching as she crimped the hoodie’s thick material. “Its pink,” she smiled. “You love pink, Locket. It’s your favorite color.” Just like her. “Does it smell good? Here.” She held up the side to her daughter’s nose. Locket took one whiff before pressing closer. She opened her mouth and began to chew at the fabric. Vaggie chuckled, “Looks like someone’s really teething. Does Mommy need to get you a teething ring? Hmm? Maybe some rubber mittens to keep you from chomping Anthony’s fingers again?”
Locket grunted, her rosy cheeks bouncing as she gnawed.
Charlie’s gonna be pissed to find drool all over her hoodie.
“That’s probably designer, baby girl. We can’t get it dirty.” Because then I’d need to replace it and fuck that. I’m broke as shit as it is. Slowly, Vaggie pried her daughter off the jacket. She offered her finger instead, wincing only slightly as those nubs ground into her.
Reaching awkwardly for her phone on her bed, Vaggie looked back to those digits. She chewed at her lip.
She turned back to her daughter, Locket’s bright blue eyes finding her.
She looks just like…
Just like her.
Vaggie sighed. “Fine.” She opened up her messages, “But only to return her jacket. I’m not a thief.”
Locket drooled more on her hand.