I carry a sleeping Kella in my arms up to her room. Carefully opening the door, I enter and lay her down on the bed. Almost immediately, she groans rolling over onto her side, her back to the wall. I begin propping up pillows and extra blankets behind her back to prop her up and keep her on her side. She had a lot of alcohol to drink, and the last thing I need is to have her puke and choke in her sleep.

I smile down at her, watching her snore softly. She said she loved me, I think to myself, incredulous that she could feel that way about someone like me. It was hard for me to admit even to myself that I love her too.

She was drunk, I shake my head, yes, but drunk people are honest people, the devil’s advocate in my mind says. I’m too dangerous for her to be with. I shake my head again feeling like I am going crazy because I’m fuckin’ arguing with myself about a drunken encounter with Kella. Quietly, I sneak out of Kella’s room, closing the door softly behind me, making as little sound as possible.

She loves me, I think again with a smile on my face. Maybe I can make this work.

“Excuse me,” I hear a small voice say, raising my head, I see a young girl standing in the hallway. Her dark hair cascading down her back, her ebony skin in stark contrast to the bland white walls of the hallway.

“Are you Ron?” she asks, her dark eyes darting around nervously.

“I am …” I reply, immediately tensing. I’ve gone enough rounds with scared girls in the last year. I don’t know if I have another one in me. She’s clearly terrified and I don’t think it’s of me.

“I’m Kiera,” the girl whispers, wringing her hands. “You helped my father with something … umm … financially … a while ago.”

I look at her with a blank face, with all the shit going on, I don’t remember a damn thing right now.

“I’m sorry,” I began, “I don’t know …”

“His name is Barry Dawes,” she says, frantically pulling a picture out of her coat pocket and handing it to me. “You helped him with a gambling loan.” I look at the picture she hands me. I see Kiera standing next to a portly man, her arms wrapped around his neck. Memories begin to flash in my mind, a few months ago I can remember helping him. He claimed that he would be good for the money. I usually didn’t give someone that much money just to fucking gamble away but everything we dug up on him, showed he was a man of means.

“Yes,” I reply, looking at her. “Your father never paid me, he knows the price for that. You’re sweet, but I can’t do anything to help him. Business is business.”

“I … I know. That’s why I’m here,” she says, looking down at her feet. “My father makes plenty of money, he’s been trying to save, but something always happens.”

The “because he gambles it away” hangs in the air between us.

“Why don’t you come to my office,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “We can talk in my office instead of out here.” I gesture before me, showing the way to go.

She turns sheepishly, allowing me to go first, following a few paces behind me. Everyone stares at us as we enter the bar, observing the girl hot on my heels. I give them a stare that challenges them to take any action and they return to what they were doing.

“This way,” I say, putting my hand on her back leading her to my office door beside the bar. “Now,” I begin, closing the door. “Let’s start this again.” I take a seat behind my desk folding my hands behind my head. “You said your name is Kiera?” She simply nods as she sits in the oversized chair that is much too big for her.

“Yes.” She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “I’m here about my father’s debt.”

I pull up my records on my computer. “Right here, Richard Dawes. Yes, he owes me quite a bit of money and has not paid a fuckin’ cent.” Kiera nods again, looking down at her hands somberly.

She begins, “I was thinking that … maybe we could work something out?” She looks up at me from under her eyelashes. I can see the fear in her eyes. I also see her determination.

“We might be able to arrange something,” I reply, looking at my computer again with a pause. I look back at Kiera as I hear her stand, her clothes beginning to shuffle. I see her begin to undo her pants, lowering them to the floor. “Not that, Kiera,” I say, raising my hand. “Pull your pants back up for fuck’s sake. I’m not that kind of man.”

Relief shines in Kiera’s eyes upon the realization that what she came here to do would not occur.

“But the debt …” she trails off worriedly. “We don’t have the money.” Her lower lip begins to quiver.

“I said we could work something out,” I reply “Do you clean?” I ask her.

“I can clean,” she responds “I was a bartender for a while.”

“A bartender,” I muse. “We could always use a bartender and someone to help clean around here.”

“If I do … will you let him live?” she asks hopefully.

“Yes,” I reply. “But it’s going to take time. I would say at least a year. It wasn’t pocket change your old man borrowed.”

Kiera sighs with relief, nodding her understanding.

“Are we agreed then?” I ask, holding my hand out.

“Yes,” she replies putting her hand in mine.