CHAPTER 17
Danica
I woke up on my cot, feeling drained and confused; I had obviously fallen asleep while crying, as my eyes felt puffy. It was late in the afternoon, and I still didn't have any idea about what I was going to do to get the ten grand to the tattooed man.
I looked up at the clock on the wall and saw that it was just after five, and the first of my dance classes, the classes I had won in the auction – well, the ones that Remy had pretty much won for me – was due to begin at six.
One of the most highly regarded Latin dancers in the country was here at the Hanover School for a few weeks, and I had been so excited about getting lessons from her. At least this was something to look forward to, something in which I could find an escape from the pain and sadness I was now mired. Dancing, my oldest friend, my first true love. At least, I still had that...
I got up, went to the bathroom and did my best to clean my face up. My eyes still looked puffy though, even after a thorough cleansing, but sadly, there wasn't very much I could do about that.
I neatened up my hair and tied it up then went to my locker and packed my dancing gear, along with my old and very well-worn dancing shoes, into a bag. I desperately needed new dancing shoes, but with this crisis in my lap, there was no way that was going to happen. Perhaps I could ask the people at the school if they knew any dancers who had old shoes in my size that they would be willing to give away. It would be a sting to my already-wounded pride but I was used to such things after eight years of living on the streets.
I walked out of the shelter and headed over to the nearest subway station, trying to remain focused on and excited about the upcoming dance lesson. I tried my best not to think about the whole thing with my father's money, but there simply wasn't any way I could get it out of my head.
I got on the train and was lost in my thoughts the whole way and almost missed my stop. I only just managed to get off the subway before the doors closed.
As I was walking out of the train station, the realization hit me: I had 7000 dollars – well, 7500, to be exact. Well, I didn't have the money yet, but I was pretty sure I could get it. And if I added that to the three grand I had, I would be able to give my dad the ten grand back.
I checked my handbag as I exited the station. I still had the napkin with the bald tattooed man's number on it, but I wasn't going to call him just yet. No, I first had to make sure that I could get that 7500 dollars.
I headed over to the dance school and went straight to Gwen's office. I knocked on the door, and she called out from within.
“It's open, come on in.”
I walked in, and she immediately smiled at me. “Hi, there, Danica! You're here for your first class, huh? You must be so excited.”
I had been excited – but now I was heartbroken. However, I had to do this; it was the only way I would be able to get the money I needed.
“About the classes... I need to have a word with you, Gwen.”
“Sure, have a seat. You look worried... what's troubling you?”
There was no way I could tell her the truth about stealing the money from my father and running away from home, so during the walk from the subway station to the dance school I had come up with a story. I hated having to tell more lies, but there was no way I could tell her what was really going on.
“There's been an emergency,” I said.
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Gwen, concern written plainly across her face. “What's happened?”
“My dad – he's in California – he's been diagnosed with late-stage cancer.”
“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “I'm so, so sorry to hear that. Do you need to go over there to visit him? I can give you as much time off as you need.”
“No, well, uh, I might need to take some time off, yeah,” I said, stumbling over my words as I did my best to maintain the integrity of the fib, “but the main issue right now is money. He doesn't have any health insurance, and the specialist has recommended some pretty aggressive treatment if he's going to have any chance of surviving. The problem is, of course, without health insurance, you can imagine how much this is going to cost.”
She nodded. “I know someone who was in a similar situation. It almost bankrupted them.”
“So, you understand... Well, my whole family is trying to pull together right now to help out with the cost of this treatment. I don't have a whole lot of money saved, but, um, I know that the classes I won are worth about 7500 dollars...”
She nodded slowly; she knew what I wanted to ask.
“I understand,” she said softly. “I can give a refund on those classes, since you haven't taken any yet, and transfer the money to your bank account.”
“Oh, my God, I'm so, so grateful Gwen,” I said, tears stinging the corners of my eyes – tears of relief, of course. “Thank you so much. You don't know what this means to me.”
“You're a good kid, Danica, and a talented dancer, and I'm happy to help in whatever way I can,” she said with a warm smile. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
“Um, if you could give it to me in cash, that would be a whole lot better than doing a bank transfer.” I didn't even want to begin to try to explain to her the reasons behind me not having a bank account.
“Cash? That's a bit unusual...”
“I have an uncle who's flying out to California tomorrow. He said if he takes cash with him, it'll save on bank transfer fees and um, uncomfortable tax questions and such, if you know what I mean.”
She nodded. “All right, sure, I understand. I'll visit the bank first thing tomorrow and get that 7500 dollars for you in cash.”
“Thank you so much, Gwen, seriously... You don't know how much of a life saver you are. Seriously. You're saving my life right now.”
She got up and gave me a hug, and I hugged her back... guiltily. But at least it was done – I now had the seven thousand dollars I needed to make up the ten thousand. As soon as I left her office, I headed out of the school and went to a payphone, getting the napkin with the bald man's number out of my handbag.
He answered within seconds of me dialing, and his tone was aggressive and gruff. “Who the hell is this?”
“It's Danica.”
He chuckled slowly and evilly. “Well, well, well, now there's a nice surprise. I take it you have something for me?”
“I've got it. All of it.”
“That's what I like to hear. Well, I guess there's no point in waiting around now, is there? You've got what I want, and I want it now. Where are you?”
I told him where I was but said that I didn't have the cash just yet. I explained that I would be getting it the following morning.
“Hmm, well, you got me all excited for nothing there, sweet-tits,” he growled. “But still, it'll be before the deadline, so even though I'm pissed right now, I'll let it slide. So where are we gonna arrange our little rendezvous?”
I obviously didn't want to meet this guy anywhere near the dance studio in case someone from the studio saw me giving him the money and figured out that I was giving the 7500 dollars to a gangster instead of an “uncle”.
“All right,” I said. “You know the restaurant I work in? There's a little alley behind the restaurant. Meet me there at nine forty-five tomorrow, okay?”
“I'll see you there,” he said. “With my ten grand, all of it. And I'm gonna be bringing my little UV scanner, just in case you think you can pull the wool over my eyes with counterfeit bills or something, so don't think you can try anything with me. And if there's anything less than ten grand in the bag you hand me – if one single penny is missing – I guarantee you there will be hell to pay. And I'll take it out on your rich, pretty-boy boyfriend, too, so it's not only your own life that's at stake here Danica... remember that.”
There was a click as he cut the call off, and my heart sank. Now I really had lost absolutely everything; my dance lessons, my money, and, most importantly, Remy. The only things I hadn't yet lost were my jobs, and I figured I would have to work like a freakin' hamster on a wheel now just to keep my head afloat. I had been hoping to move out of the shelter in the next few months, and up until that bald asshole had found me, it had started to seem like it could be a real possibility – but now I understood that that had all just been one big, stupid illusion. No, I was stuck in the muck at the very bottom, and I wouldn't be able to drag myself out of the swamp any time soon... No, not for a couple of years now at least – and even then, that was only a slim possibility, contingent on me working pretty much around the clock and pretty much not having anything even resembling a break for years on end.
I wanted to cry, but I was too broken and distraught to even do that; yes, even weeping seemed like it would be too much of an effort to do right now.
I began to head back to the shelter, feeling as if an invisible storm cloud was unleashing all its wrath directly onto me. And then, surely enough, it really did begin to rain – a cold, biting rain that soaked me through to the skin and bored an aching chill deep into the marrow of my bones.
But I didn't care. I just walked on through the rain, getting soaking wet, and feeling like the last of hopes and dreams had finally been crushed into dust.
THE NEXT MORNING
I hadn't slept much, in spite of having gone to bed early the previous evening. Most of the night I'd spent tossing and turning, or lying awake and tormenting myself with thoughts of would have, could have and should have – all an exercise in utter futility, of course. I was filled now with bitterness, regret and a deep, crushing sadness. It seemed now that everything I had tried to work for over the past eight years, all my hopes and dreams had been ground to dust. There was nothing left to live for really... but somehow, I would go on. I had to go on.
I took a deep breath and walked into the dance school, heading straight over to Gwen's office and knocked on the door. She had messaged me earlier to say that the cash was ready.
“Come on in,” she said.
I walked in and almost burst into tears when I saw the paper bag on her desk. In it was not just a large amount of cash, but my hopes and dreams, which I was now giving to the man who had made my life such a living hell that I had run away to the streets to escape him. It took every ounce of courage and determination I had left not to break down.
“There it is, Danica,” she said, pointing at the paper bag on her desk. “7500 in cash. It's a real pity that you aren't going to be dancing with us; you're so very passionate and talented. However, I know that your father's health takes preference over such things. Maybe you'll be able to join a new class next year, you never know.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, struggling to keep myself together.
I reached over and took the bag, “Thank you again for this, Gwen,” I said, and I meant it.
She smiled warmly. “It's a pleasure Danica. And remember, you can take time off whenever you need it if you need to fly across the country for an emergency.”
“Thanks. I'll keep you updated.”
“All right,” she said with a sweet smile. “I'll see you tomorrow morning for work.”
I stuffed the paper bag into my handbag, which contained another paper bag with 2500 dollars in it – leaving me with only a couple hundred to my name – and walked briskly out of the dance school, concentrating as hard as I could on holding myself together and not breaking down. I kept my bag clutched close to me as I walked down into the crowded subway station; the last thing I needed was for a bag snatcher to rob me and make off with my purse. Considering how awful my luck had been, I thought this to be a pretty likely occurrence.
Thankfully, however, I made it to our rendezvous spot without incident. The bald tattooed man was waiting in the alley for me. He was wearing a black leather jacket and grimy, oil-stained jeans.
“You're late,” he growled.
I looked at my phone. “It's nine forty-seven. It's two minutes.”
“I don't care,” he snarled. “You're late, and that pisses me off.”
He opened his jacket to reveal a large pistol holstered at his side. “Just so you know not to mess around,” he said with an evil grin, tapping on the pistol.
“I'm not 'messing around',” I replied. “Here. Count it.”
I opened my handbag and handed him the two paper bags with the cash in them.
He smiled greedily and snatched the bags from me, and then walked a few yards away from me and counted out the money slowly and meticulously. Finally, he turned to me and smiled.
“Well, there we go. Well done, sugar-tits, you can actually count, and all ten grand is here, just like your daddy wanted.”
I wanted to drop to the ground and simply die, but I wasn't going to do that, not in front of this monster. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
“Well, our business is done now,” I said defiantly. “So, I don't want to hear from you, or him, ever again. And stay the hell away from Remington as well.”
“Ooh, I'm scared,” he said in a mocking tone. “But, hey, you're right, our business is done. Still, I can't make any promises, I'm afraid. I'm not the boss, you see, and I don't make the rules. So, maybe you won't hear from me again... but who knows... maybe you will, sexy!”
“Don't call me that, you pig,” I snapped. “Go away now, and leave me the hell alone.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Pleasure doing business,” he said, and turned around and strolled casually away.
I waited until he had turned the corner, and then I sat down on the ground, with its cracked concrete, bits of trash and broken glass. I wanted to cry, but now I was beyond even tears. I just sat and stared at the cracks on the ground, and thought of how it had all come to this – how my life had been utterly ruined.