It breaks my heart to leave without saying goodbye. It would break my heart more to wake her up just to say goodbye.

She doesn’t need the shit I would bring into her life. I’d have to lie to her every single day, and if she knew what I really was doing while I was out, she’d hate me.

I’ve never killed a man, but I’ve come close. That can be even worse, sometimes. To make a man beg, to let him know that he’s in limbo, for that awareness to seep into his bones so he doesn’t know if he’ll be dead or alive in another thirty seconds. It’s worse than just pulling the trigger.

Seeing her sleep next to me was the sweeting thing I’ve ever seen. Having her wake up in the middle of the night, so ready for me and wanting me, it made me harder than I’ve ever been before.

Fuck, she makes me harder than I’ve ever been.

My fingers graze the steering wheel as I grind through the desert on the way to this job.

I left the duffel bag set up for her for when she wakes up. A few pairs of PJs that she can choose from for the ride home, and the cash that she gave me for his father’s debt. She doesn’t need to pay for him. I can’t take the money from her. Not now that I know her.

And the picture. I tucked the picture into the bag too, inside a roll of hundreds. She’ll want to keep the picture. I saw the way she looked at it. It belongs to her. And God willing, when her father wakes up, she can tell him that she and I did meet. He’ll understand why I had to let her go.

But I don’t feel good about leaving her alone. I should feel good, but I don’t.

If it’s the right thing to do, then why the fuck do I feel so wrong?

But I’ll see her again. One last time, I will see her and I will drop her off at her home. I’ll go back to Vegas and tell my uncle it didn’t work out, if he even asks, and this whole thing will be a memory.

My Cherry will just be a memory, frozen in time. A butterfly with its wings spread out inside a glass box, held perfect and frozen forever.

My heart clenches up in my chest as my knuckles become white on the steering wheel. I’ll never deal with another man like her father again. Even if it’s what brought my sweetheart into my life, it doesn’t make it worth it. It doesn’t make it right. She should never have met me. I should never have even seen her picture.

* * *

The hotel I’m picking up at is some piece of shit on the off-ramp of Route 50. It’s in what used to be a mining town. I don’t even remember the name of the town, if I’m honest with myself. The loneliest road in America keeps going long after I get off. It goes for miles in both directions, straight ahead and straight behind, and it feels like it doesn’t stop. It’s repetitive, it keeps going; it’s the same stretch of highway every time I drive it.

The hotel is managed by a man who was a friend of my uncle’s from back in the day; it’s a place where drugs are plentiful and the women do things with their bodies for money. They’re not so different from me.

Cherry’s question keeps haunting me.

Why do I do the things I do?

Do I still like it? Did I ever like it?

I push it away, I push it all down as the heat inside my throat rises. I roll into a parking space near the lobby of the hotel and cut the engine. It’s like muscle memory, coming here.

This is one of my regular spots, one of my accounts, my uncle would say, when he is in the mood to believe that what we do is legitimate. I don’t ask this man a lot of questions, but I know that what’s going on here is wrong. But I turn my head and look the other way, because people make their choices.

We all have choices to make.

The door chimes when I make my way into the lobby. The place smells the thick scent of men’s cologne. It’s a cathouse, and it’s not illegal.

The lobby’s big, but there isn’t enough furniture to fill the space. It’s all rough edges and heavy wood, mirrors that are cracked at the edges and a ceiling that’s crumbling, covered with a thin coat of paint that barely conceals what it’s supposed to.

A line of girls, expressionless and with the light from their eyes growing dimmer by the moment, sits on a couch across from the check-in counter. There’s a new girl there, and she makes fuck-me eyes at me. She wastes no time in picking her mark. She’s fast, and she’s good at it.

Sauntering over, she bites her lip and bats her eyelashes at me. Fuck, maybe yesterday I would have taken her up on whatever she’s about to offer. But not now. I’m not messing around with women like her anymore. Even after I say goodbye to Cherry for good, I don’t know if I’ll be able to buy companionship ever again.

Not after what almost happened to my Cherry.

The girl stops near me and juts out her hip, pushing her tits out. She touches my arm lightly and I put both of my hand flat on the counter.

“Hey,” she says. Her voice is so soft. She’s so sweet and pretty. I can’t stand that the next man who comes through the door after me might choose her and do whatever the fuck he wants. What’s worse is that I don’t know whether she’ll be relieved or disappointed if he chooses one of the other girls.

The sick part is that maybe it’s a little bit of both.

“Where’s your boss, sweetheart?” I take her hand and take it off my arm, putting it down slowly at her side. She doesn’t know why I’m here, or else she wouldn’t be offering herself to me like this. The other girls sitting on the couch continue picking at their nails and flashing glances over at the door for their next potential customer. But this girl doesn’t know I’m here for work.

She coughs lightly, almost embarrassed by my rejection.

“I haven’t seen him,” she says. Her voice is sweet and light, and almost tempting. I know she’ll make some sick fuck very happy. Or he’ll feel something for her and mistake it for happiness. It won’t be, though. It’ll be something cruel instead.

“I think he’s in the back,” one of the older girls on the couch says to me.

I wave over to her and nod, and go around to the side of the counter. I’m usually more congenial than this, but I can’t leave Cherry alone for longer than I have to. I don’t have time to sit around and wait.

My uncle expects these payments on time. I was playing with fire when I gave Cherry more time. This man isn’t going to be given the same courtesy.

I make my way down the dark hallway behind the counter, back to his office. The place is disgusting. There are lightbulbs dotting the ceiling that have been burned out for months. He keeps the rooms nicer than he keeps his own personal space, at least.

I get closer to the door of his office, on the right at the end of the hallway. A slice of light dances and shifts on the floor outside the office. There’s more than one person inside. And I can hear voices. It’s the owner of the hotel, and it’s one other man.

Staying quiet, I stand against the wall, breathing as silently as I can. This is a routine pickup. It isn’t like him to be back here. He doesn’t take his meetings at night. I’ve been here for enough pickups to know how he runs his business. It’s even out of the ordinary for him to not be at the front desk.

The voices are quick but hushed, and I can’t make anything out. I put my hand on my holster, but I don’t touch my gun. Not yet.

The door creaks open and a man steps out. I know him. It’s the man who wanted to buy Cherry. He didn’t get his taste last night, so here he is, brokering a deal to get his dick wet with one of these young women. My eyes narrow as he starts past me, the smile on his face grinding into an ugly sneer.

He shoulders through the hall and doesn’t look back as he disappears into the light of the hotel lobby. Clenching and unclenching my fists, I move toward the office and rap quickly on the door a few times with my knuckle as I walk in.

He already knows who it is. I don’t have to announce myself. I come here every week at the same time. He’s expecting me.

“Sean,” he says, settling into his seat on the other side of the desk. The office is windowless, the walls lined with bookshelves and filing cabinets overflowing with binders and folders. This guy hasn’t paid local or state taxes in years. Federal is a different story, but he has an agreement with the locals, just like he has with my uncle.

There’s a cool expression on his face. He’s usually like this. I take a seat across the desk from him, trying to settle into the fake leather chair with its torn cushion and its cheap foam stuffing popping out. The floor is sticky beneath my feet.

“When’s the last time you cleaned this place up, man?” I take a look around. I’ve seen the office so many times, but it’s seemed to have become worse over the years. Sometimes that’s just what happens to places like this. He hasn’t taken care of it, but maybe he should. He cares about his girls, or at least he acts like he does.

I have relationships with all my clients. I can’t fucking help it. But at the end of the day, even when it’s my job to take what is owed to me and to my family, these are just men like I am. That’s what Cherry’s father was. Just a man. Just like anyone else.

I close my eyes tight, thinking back to Cherry. Maybe I should have said goodbye. But I didn’t want to wake her up. She looked so peaceful and beautiful sleeping safe in my bed, tucked away. Let her have one last dream in my bed, before I have to leave her. Before I force her to leave me.

My heart clenches and I push the heat away the heat rising inside me.

“I have a business to run here, Sean. I don’t have time to clean up. Too many other important things going on.”

The man grabs his cane and wobbles over to one of the shelves against the right wall and braces himself, leaning against it with one hand.

“I have a few new girls coming to work here,” he says. “They should be able to bring in a good amount of cash.”

I roll my neck and crack my knuckles. I don’t know where he’s getting the girls from, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want to deal with them, and I won’t. I’m not getting involved. I’ll let them deal directly with him, and I will pretend they’re invisible. It’s not my job to protect them. In exchange for the kick-back this man gives my uncle, he has another hired hand to protect the girls.

It’s fucked up, though, because they’re protected from men on the outside, but who they really need protection from is the family. Our hired men aren’t really protecting the girls, anyway. They’re protecting their assets. The money the girls bring in. It’s all the family really cares about.

“Uncle will be happy. A bigger pie means our piece will be bigger.” I speak through a clenched jaw.

The man clears his throat.

“I’m glad you mentioned that,” he says, leaning forward on his cane. The thing looks about as old as he is, as though he came out of the womb and into this world with it, as though he was born unable to stand, instead of time and age doing that to him. “I’m gonna be a little late this week with the money.”

I take a deep breath through my nose and let it out through my mouth. The office smells like old newspapers and ink.

“You know that’s not going to work for my uncle,” I say. I want to give him more time, but I can’t do it. I have to keep on a straight and narrow fucking path from here on out if Cherry is going to be safe, kept away from my uncle’s critical eye.

From mine, too. No, I have to get this money right fucking now, even if I have to shake it out of him.

“Come on, Sean. You and I go way back. You’ve made exceptions for me before. Plenty of them.” He’s pleading. His eyebrow twitches. He’s trying hard to keep that cool expression he had when I came in.

“Can’t do it.” I keep my feet planted firmly on the ground. I’m going to make this easy for him. No sense in forcing it out of him. I know he has cash stashed away for a rainy day. I won’t use force. I won’t have to. “The fact that I’ve made exceptions before should be all the more reason for you to want to keep the program straight now, isn’t it?”

He puts a finger in the air and hobbles over to his door, opening it slowly.

“How about this,” he says, “next week, there’s going to be a little bit of a bonus for you. An extra five percent for you, plus one of the girls. On the house.”

I sigh and stay seated, turning slightly to him. I don’t want to rough up an old man like him; I’ve never had to before, and I don’t want to do it now. Someone my own size, I don’t give a shit. But someone like this or Cherry’s old man is someone I wouldn’t touch.

Not unless I absolutely have to.

“I don’t want a girl,” I say. I’m deflecting his offer, trying to make it seem like I’m saying no because I’m not interested in the product. And that much is true. Now that I’ve tasted the sweetness of Cherry, I won’t be able to fuck anyone else for a long, long time. The idea of it makes me sick. But the real reason I’m not taking his offer is because there’s no exceptions this time.

No extensions, no exceptions.

I get up and walk over to him.

“Listen,” he says, closing the door, his eyes growing wide. “I don’t have it. But I promise I’ll have it soon. He didn’t want me to tell you this, but your friend Cullen has a few girls lined up like I told you, and he even mentioned that there’s one you’re going to really like.”

I shake my head and can’t help but laugh. Cullen is a piece of shit, but I don’t know why he wants to get involved with any of this mess. It’s out of his league, even for what a fucking asshole he is.

“I don’t want a girl, man. I told you. I just want to do my job and be done with it.”

“He seemed to think you’d really like this one girl,” the man says, his eyes narrowing. “I’m only telling you this because I like you.”

“Bullshit,” I spit out like venom, the heat rising inside me. The man’s cool exterior is crumbling, and he’s bluffing. “You’re telling me this because you’re trying to save your own ass.”

The man’s eyes shift downward and he clutches the end of his cane. I shouldn’t feel sorry for this fucker. He’s running girls in and out of the state, and he’s at my fucking mercy. He knows it. He’s as big a scumbag as I am, but I can’t help feeling bad for him. His hand shakes and the wrinkles in his face begin to harden as his eyes drift up to mine, swimming with icy fear.

My blood runs cold when he looks up into my eyes. I swallow thickly as I scan over his weathered face.

I’m not good at reading people. That’s why I like blackjack over poker. For poker, you have to be able to inuit people, know what they want before they do, read their eyes and know what they’re thinking. In blackjack, what matters most is being able to follow rules. That’s something I’m really fucking good at. That’s why my uncle gave me this job, dealing with clients and being the enforcer. I can do this shit with my eyes closed.

But the way this man’s eyes drop down again to the floor when I look at him, I know he’s hiding something. I can smell it on him.

“He didn’t want me to tell you everything,” the old man says. “He said there was a girl you’d be particularly interested in.” He smiles slightly and looks back up at me. “He told me Cherry was her name.”

My mind skips a beat when he says her name.

“What the fuck did you just say?” I put my index finger into his chest. He puts his hands in the air as his cane crashes onto the ground, wood against wood, the sound absorbed into the shithole off a room we’re stuffed into.

“I don’t know,” he says, “I don’t know. All he said was that he would give me some girls and you’d really like one of them. He seemed to know her pretty well. He didn’t say anything else. I swear.”

I swallow the heat inside my chest, fueled by adrenaline and fury.

“Where was he going?” I take him by the shirt, unable to control myself. “Where?” I growl. His feet come off the floor and his eyes plead with me.

“I don’t know. God, please don’t hurt me.”

The room spins as I shove him against the wall and leave his office, barreling down the hallway to the back exit. I push the emergency exit bar and the alarm goes off as I enter the hot, thick night air.

The only thing keeping him safe right now is very thing he wasn’t supposed to tell me. And now I have to get to Cherry before Cullen does. If he hasn’t already gotten to her.