Page 25 of Shallow

After sleepingthrough my alarm three times, I finally dig through my unpacked suitcase and throw on a pair of designer jean shorts with a cropped black Vera Wang camisole that I once paid seven hundred dollars for without batting an eye. At the time, it was worth the price, but the minute I walk inside the center, I change my mind. It’s completely out of place in a glorified underground fight club filled with smelly teenageboys.

For some reason, I immediately know Cary isn’t here. I stumble a bit, shocked that his presence has such an impact on me. Jesus, I’m in town less than twenty-four hours and I already sense him again. The thought nags at me, but I push it to the back of my mind and continue through the main room toward theback.

There it is. The redmop.

Evil piece ofshit.

“You gonna get those expensive threads all dirty.” Glancing to the side, I meet the eyes of what has to be the Oakland Raiders’ missing linebacker. As round as he is tall, he kisses the air and gives me a wink. “You might wanna take ’emoff.”

Keeping my eyes down, I speed walk past him and the lingering stares of at least ten overgrown tattooed boys who remind me of a prison gang. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until the wooden stick is in my hand and I’m holding it like a third-degree black belt about to take someone’s headoff.

“Don’t do it, Snowflake. It’d only dent his head, not bash it in. Tiny’s got thick padding around his skull, know what I’msayin’?”

I let out a scream and spin around, taking the mop and bucket with me. The Puerto Rican kid from yesterday grins, holding up both hands in surrender while trying to avoid the wave splashing from inside thebucket.

“What the hell? Don’t scare me likethat!”

“Sorry,” he says, shaking drops of water off his shoes. “It’s just that you had those crazy chick eyes goin’ on when you walked by, and it looked like you might try to play Whack-a-Mole with Tiny’sbrain.”

“I don’t like the way he looks atme.”

“Take a look around, they’re all lookin’ at you like that. You’re the first high-class bitch we’ve seen here inyears.”

“I’m not a bitch…ummm.” I stare at his white t-shirt and ripped jeans, trying like hell to remember hisname.

Yes, I am. I’m absolutely abitch.

“Frankie,” he says, putting me out of my misery. “And chill, Snowflake. It’s just a general name we use for a woman. Don’t get sooffended.”

“Then why not just saywoman?”

“Why not just tell Tiny to fuckoff?”

Touché.

“Why do you call me Snowflake?” Frankie’s not enamored with me like the others. He looks me in the eye when he speaks to me. I’m not used to men being unaffected by me, and it throws me off balance. I glance over my shoulder at the wall of testosterone still staring at my ass and wonder if Frankie could be my one ally in this hellhole.

“They’re fine,” he assures me, reading my thoughts and ignoring myquestion.

“They aren’t, you know…thinking of me, arethey?”

He laughs. “Of course they are, but I wouldn’t worry about them. They probably can’t move after lastnight.”

“Excuseme?”

He grins again, his smile as white as his t-shirt. “Their dicks probably feel like they jerked off withsandpaper.”

I do the unthinkable and blush. “Well, you seem to have no problem talking to me rightnow.”

He shrugs. “Gotta work harder to intimidate me,lady.”

Frankie is unlike anyone I’ve ever known. I’ve never encountered someone so blasé about meeting me. I know that sounds conceited, and that’s mainly because I am. Confidence is key, and it’s clear that if I’m going to survive in this hell hole for the next three years, I’ve got to hold on to all of it Ican.

Shaking me out of my fog, Frankie takes the mop out of my hand and puts a crumpled plastic baggie in place of it. I stare down at what looks like a set of clear dentures inside a sandwichbag.

“Boss left orders,” he explains, pointing toward a shelf against the far wall with at least ten cups lined up against the top of it. “You’re on mouth guard duty today.” Upon second glance, I note a plastic tub sitting underneath the shelf, and I’m almost afraid to ask what abomination a mouth guard is supposed tobe.

Speaking of theboss…