Page 79 of The Toy Maker

The memory of it sent a fresh wave of irritation through me. My fingers curled into the sheets.

“If I don’t mean anything to you, then fine. Say it. Say that I’m just some whore you use and discard. At least that would be honest. But don’t act like I belong to you when you clearly don’t give a damn about what that means.”

I could almost hear the silence that would follow, the weight of my anger settling between us.

Would he apologize? Would he even care?

The thought of him brushing me off again made my blood simmer.

“I deserve better than this. Better than you, if this is all you can offer.”

I would turn to leave, daring him to stop me.

Daring him to prove that I was wrong.

The alarm clockdisturbed my shallow, restless sleep. My body ached, tense and sore from the day prior. I wanted to roll back over and call out of work, but the moment I remembered why I was so pissed off, my eyes snapped open.

Cold air bit at my bare skin as I shoved the blankets aside and stumbled toward the bathroom. The flickering yellow lights made me wince, and I took a few sluggish moments to splash cold water on my face, letting it chase away the last traces of sleep.

Clothes. I needed clothes.

I grabbed the first things I could find, jeans, a wrinkled hoodie, mismatched socks. There was no time to care about looking put-together. I was on a mission.

Ditch me once, shame on you. Ditch me twice, and you’re dead to me.

The thought burned in my mind as I stuffed a handful of cereal into my mouth and half-jogged to the door. Balancing my shoes in one hand, I hopped down the stairs, trying to shove them on as I went.

My mother always told me I needed to deal with my abandonment issues or else they’d eat away at my common sense.

Maybe she had a point.

Because I was about to storm into that damn building half-cocked, ready to tear Jason a new one.

The moment I stepped through the entrance of Pink Cherrie, I didn’t even get the chance to make it far before I was intercepted. The zombie at the front desk barely glanced up before greeting me in the most welcoming way possible.

“Morning, queen whore,” Jade said.

Holy shit, did I get a promotion?

Before I could reply, Sarah’s wild head popped up from under the desk. Her hair stuck out in every direction, her eyesglassy and unfocused. I decided not to ask what the hell she’d been doing under there.

I eyed them both, their makeup smudged, their clothes wrinkled, the telltale signs of another wild night.

“Hey, guys,” I greeted, adjusting my crooked hoodie. “I take it you had a good time.”

Jade snorted. “We didn’t ride random cock, if that’s what you mean.” Jade side-eyed Sarah and rolled her eyes. “Well, I didn’t.”

Sarah made a sound that was half a moan, half a drunken slur.

I sighed. Today was going to be alot.

As I took in the disheveled state of the room—and the even more disheveled people inside it—I realized someone was missing.

“Is Kitty hiding under that desk too?” I asked, glancing toward Sarah, who still looked half-dead.

Apparently, I’d said something hilarious because Jade looked like she was fighting back laughter. If she wasn’t so hungover, I was sure she would’ve burst out cackling.

“Last time we saw her, she was swinging from the rooftops,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Creamy Pussy really goes to her head.”