Jewel
“You look hot.” My roommate clattered toward me at a precarious pace in her skyscraper heels.
“Thanks, Cam.” I stamped a hand to my hip and posed for her as the bus door closed behind me, and she stopped and twirled to show me her backless dress. Her long black hair swished the exposed skin above her ass. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Digging the cartoon-character-slash-schoolgirl vibe.” Her dark red lipstick framed an approving smile.
“Thought it might sell well with the older guys on this side of town.”
“Sick bastards acting out their underage-girl fantasies. You’re probably right.” She unwrapped a piece of gum, split it, popped half in her mouth and offered me the other.
“Appreciate it,” I said as I took it.
“You’re late.” She narrowed her olive-green eyes at me. “You stop to take a client on the way over?”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “Just another run-in with Wanda.”
“Bitch.”
“Yeah.” I agreed readily, my empty stomach twisting. “You made your half of the rent yet?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. Glossy ebony hair spilled over her delicate shoulders.
“But I thought you had most of it saved already.”
“Had most of it.” She slowly blinked her pretty eyes at me.
“What do you mean, had?” My stomach didn’t just twist, it knotted.
“I gave it to Lori.”
“Oh no.” I squeezed my eyes closed for a second, but there was no shutting out the shitty reality.
“I had to.” My roomie donned a pleading expression. “She was sick. She had the shakes, and she was puking her guts out.”
“She’s a heroin addict, Cam. She needs to go to rehab. She’ll just use that money for another fix.”
The bright pink neon lights advertising a triple-X show blasted my gaze. A reminder, not that I needed one, that the harsh world we lived in couldn’t be remedied with kindness.
“You don’t have your part either?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“We’re fucked.” Frowning, she touched my arm. “I’m sorry, Jules.”
“It’s okay.” Kindness might not change much, but I couldn’t blame her for it.
I covered her fingers with my own. Even through the worn cotton of my hoodie, I could tell her skin was freezing cold.
“Two softies is what we are.” I gave her a warm smile. “I probably would’ve done the same thing. What are the odds we would end up rooming together, huh?”
“You regret moving in with me?” Her crimson lips trembled uncertainly.
“No. And anyway, it was your apartment to begin with. Lucky for me, you took me in. I had no job. Barely any money after my boyfriend screwed me over. You took a chance on me. Rescued me.” I squeezed her hand and frowned. “You’re freezing.”
I removed her fingers, unzipped my jacket, and shrugged out of it. Goose bumps erupted on my exposed flesh, and there was a lot of it, more than Cam revealed in her slinky slip. A guy in a passing car let out a piercing whistle and gave me a leering look, and then he was gone.
“Put this on,” I told her.
“I’m okay. It’s seventy degrees outside. I’m hardly freezing.”
“It’s damp. There’s a chill in the air. Take it.” I shook it at her. “I was just going to tie it around my waist, but it messes with my look.”
“All right,” she grumbled, but put it on.
“You make any money tonight?”
I held my breath for her answer as we moved into our usual position by the streetlight closest to the curb. Best to flaunt our attributes in the light while we could. The longer we kept on making our living like this, the sooner we would wind up falling back into the shadows to hide the toll it took on us.
“Fifty bucks.”
“That’s something. Good for you.”
“One blow job.” Her brow creased. “That’s hardly rent.”
“It’s a start.” I bit down on my plump, often-abused bottom lip. “Maybe we can convince Wanda to let us pay what we owe in installments.”
“Maybe,” she said, but we both knew there was zero chance. No excuses. No exceptions. Wanda was a total hard-ass.
“Hey.” Cam lifted her chin to point at a sleek sports car idling at the curb. “Would you look at that.”
“What?” I swiveled to glance in the same direction.
“I know what kind of car it is,” I lied.
She raised a disbelieving brow.
“Okay. No, I didn’t. You’re the car expert, Camaro Montepulciano.”
“Not an expert. Not like my dad.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “But you have nearly every make, model, and spec memorized like he does.”
A love for all things automotive was his one and only legacy to her. After she’d lost her job as a cashier in the auto parts store and her father discovered what she’d taken up as a second career, he completely shut her out. Yet she religiously read Car and Driver magazine every morning as though it were a devotional, just on the off chance that he might one day change his mind and welcome her back.
“Special silver-metallic finish,” she said almost reverently as she drank in the sight of it. “Rear-wheel drive. Six cylinders. Three-point-eight-liter twin-turbo engine. Seven hundred horsepower. That baby can do zero to sixty in two point seven seconds.”
“Sounds super sexy.” I snorted, not as impressed by cars. “So, go get him.”
“Nah.” She shook her head. “You look way hotter than I do.”
“Not true, but all right. I’ll go over and take a shot, if you’re sure. Though I better move fast, since I’ve probably only got two-point-something seconds to snag him if he stomps on the gas.” I straightened my shoulders.
She shook her head at me as I took my first step. “Work your approach faster, roomie. He just put his blinker on. He’s gonna get away. And that’s $293,000 worth of sports car, before options.”
In other words, if I played it right, I might make rent.
I picked up the pace, jogging inelegantly to the vehicle, and bent over to tap on the passenger window.
When the driver slowly turned his head, my heart that was hammering from my dash to the curb slammed to a complete halt as his gaze hit mine. I’d never seen eyes like his before, so silver, the shiny platinum finish of his Porsche seemed tawdry in comparison.
A long moment passed as I took in his features. Tousled brown hair, strong jaw, chiseled lips, straight nose. He looked me over in return.
“Hey, handsome,” I said when he lowered the window.
I feigned confidence, though anyone who really knew me would have noticed that my voice was pitched a higher octave than usual. The potential for rejection with the initial approach always made me nervous. This one more than most. He was way too cute to be trolling the streets for a paid fuck.
“Wanna date for the night?”
“You even legal, little girl?” he asked, his sable brows arching to an interrogating level above his heart-stopping eyes.
Okay, maybe I had taken the schoolgirl thing a bit too far.
“Twenty-one last March.”
Most guys didn’t care about legalities. Was he a cop? I dismissed the idea immediately. Not likely. Not in a $300,000 car. Just cautious, probably. Another factor that made me wonder why he was soliciting.
I batted my eyelashes at him. “You wanna see my driver’s license, honey?”
The guy gave me a bored look. “No, not really. Just wanted to acknowledge your tap on my window.” Lifting a hand, he made a shooing motion. “You can step away from the car now. I’m not interested. Just pulled over to have a conversation on my phone. I mean, do I look like I need to pay a fucking prostitute to have sex with me?”
His rejection stung, making my temper flare.
“With manners like that, you couldn’t possibly pay me enough to put up with you,” I spat out without thinking.
“Get your filthy little hands off my car, Harley Quinn.” His platinum eyes flashed fiery silver.
I planted my fists on my hips. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Those eyes of his were second-place silver to my defiant gold. I wasn’t an exotic half-Italian beauty like Cam, but his dismissal triggered my attitude. Attitude I couldn’t afford, but I let it rip anyway.
“Get your statusy piece-of-shit car off my corner. I was here first.” Head high, I flicked a pigtail over my shoulder. My bracelets jingled my irritation as I strolled away.
He didn’t immediately leave, and I didn’t turn to see what he was doing, even though I could feel his gaze on me. Swaying my hips provocatively, I moved to the car that had pulled in front of his Porsche.
Locks suddenly popped behind me. “Hey, Harley,” he called. “Wait up.”
I spun around and froze.
He stood next to his vehicle, the streetlight bathing his sculpted form. The breadth of his wide shoulders split open the lapels of his black leather jacket. He wore no shirt beneath it to hide the view of his chiseled pecs and abs. His smooth, golden-tanned skin glistened in the light as he casually propped his elbow on the roof of his car. Narrow hips and long legs in low-slung jeans completed the compelling portrait.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the chill in the air rolled through me as I withstood a heavily hooded leisurely scan from him.
His verdict? I couldn’t tell.
Mine? He was great—if you went for an incredibly handsome guy with arrogance stamped into every single cell of his flawless body.
“What do you want?” Not giving an inch, I narrowed my gaze, shooting haughty daggers at him.
“How much?”
My mouth went dry. There was no mistaking what he wanted.
Me. For a price.
My mind blanking, I licked my lips to moisten them. Sex with him? I shook my head, but the thought of it only increased the heat that had combusted within me.
Pulling in a deep breath, I forced myself to take a mental step back. Methodically, I sized him up like Cam had taught me to do, and discounted his looks and his body. It was the car and the value of his clothing that mattered.
“Two hundred,” I said. “Cash.”
“You’re joking.”
“I never joke about money.”
At an impasse, we stared at each other. One heartbeat became too many.
“You’re wasting my time,” I said, deciding for him, and moved toward the other car.
“All right, Harley.”
I stopped, turned, and smiled at him. Big.
He went completely still. When his gaze dropped to my mouth, my lips tingled from the intensity of his regard.
He whistled under his breath. “You should’ve led with the smile. I would’ve agreed to twice that.”