“Jesus Christ!” The joints of his chair shrieked when he threw himself back. “What the hell do you need that kind of money for?”

“I told you, it’s an emergency or I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Christ!” Martin said again, rubbing his palm over his pudgy face. “No. Absolutely not. I am not going to be responsible for you paying that kind of money back.”

“I’ll pay it back!” Juliette promised. “You know I will. Come on, Martin. I’ve been a model employee. I’m always on time. I finish my work. I’ve never had a complaint. My work is exemplary. You know I’m good for it.”

Martin kept rocking his head from side to side. “Can’t do it. Not only because I won’t, but because payroll will never agree to that amount. Are you crazy?”

“Well, what about three thousand?”

Martin sighed. “The most I can do is maybe five hundred bucks.”

“Five hundred?” Disbelief and outrage rang through her voice even as dread coiled in her chest. She felt the urge to burst into frustrated tears and swallowed it back quickly. “Fine.”

Five hundred bucks wasn’t enough to pay what she owed, nor was it enough to appease Arlo when he came knocking. But maybe it would be enough to give her a few days to come up with the rest.

By the time she shuffled home to the only place she’d ever lived, the clock was sitting at well after three. Shadows spilled along the walls like black paint, obscuring the worn, second hand furniture she’d picked up from street curbs and dumpsters. The original items had been sold off to pay for the overdue mortgage. She hadn’t gotten nearly as much as her parents had paid for them, but it had kept the bank off their backs for a little while. The only things she hadn’t gotten rid of were her and Vi’s bedroom sets. Both had been birthday presents and the last gift their mother had given them. But everything else was gone, leaving empty rooms throughout the house, giving it the appearance of abandonment. Maybe in a way, it was. Juliette certainly no longer lived there. It was a place to keep her things mostly. But it was the one piece of her old life she fought desperately to cling on to.

Careful not to make a sound, she started up the stairs. She knew from the discarded backpack next to the stairway, that Vi was home and already in bed. Her entire body ached. There was a numbness behind her eyeballs that she was certain wasn’t normal and all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep. Instead, she staggered her way into the bathroom, careful not to make too much noise as she locked herself inside.

The bags beneath her brown eyes had bags and each one was a darker shade of purple. They stood out against the dull, lifeless white of her complexion. Dirty blonde wisps stood in erratic, frizzy waves where they had escaped the elastic restraining the unruly curls. She’d taken a shower that morning, but the strands were dull and lanky from sweat, humidity, and grease. She ripped the band out and tossed it down on the counter before shoving away from the mirror to undress. Her waitress uniform hit the floor and was left there as she turned away to climb into the tub for a quick shower.

It was after four in the morning by the time she fell face first across the bed.

True to his promise, Martin had left a note with the accounting clerk regarding her five hundred dollars. The check was waiting for her when Juliette returned to the hotel the next morning. She signed for it before making her way to the staff lounge and the coin operated phone mounted to the wall.

Juliette didn’t own a cellphone. It was an extra expense that she couldn’t afford. Vi had one and only because it gave Juliette some piece of mind knowing her sister could use it in case of an emergency, even though, at the end of the month, Vi racked up a bill fit for six cellphones. But Juliette had no problem using a payphone if she really needed to. She very seldom ever had anyone to call anyway.

There were still three hours before her shift started at the arcade and fun pit. Thankfully, unlike her commute from the diner on the outskirts and the hotel smack dab in the very heart of the city, the arcade was a reasonable twenty minutes from her house by bus. The bank was ten minutes. But she still had to call Arlo and hopefully talk him into taking the five hundred for the time being. The very thought made her insides writhe.

The staff lounge was occupied by one other person, a woman in a maid’s uniform. Realistically, for the amount of time Juliette spent at the hotel, she should have at least known some of the others. Some she did recognize on sight, but others were new or she never paid attention. Maybe that made her an antisocial weirdo, but she rarely found time to sit down and have a proper meal, never mind an actual conversation with another human being.

The woman never glanced up when Juliette hurried across the worn carpet to the tiny alcove cut into the other side of the room. The phone booth hung over a small, wooden table containing a tattered phonebook. It was flipped open to a cab company ad. The number was circled with a bright, red pen.

Juliette ignored it as she snatched up the phone, inserted fifty cents and punched in Arlo’s number. After seven years, it was as clear to her as her own name. She didn’t even need to look at the dial pad.

A man answered on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?”

Juliette had to swallow hard before she could answer. “This is Juliette Romero. I need to speak to Arlo … please.”

The gruff man said something away from the phone. There was some scuffling and then Arlo’s voice was in her ear.

“Juliette. Do you have my money?”

Nausea soured the contents of her empty stomach. The plastic handle squished beneath her clammy palm as she gripped the phone harder.

“Not exactly,” she murmured unsteadily. “I have some of it, but—”

“Juliette.” Feigned disappointment crackled between them in the single exhale of her name. “I don’t like hearing that.”

“I know, and I tried, but it’s a lot of money to get in a single night.”

Arlo sighed. “How much do you have?”

More and more, it was becoming increasingly harder to breath around the sickness climbing up her throat. Dull, gray fingers had begun to creep up around the edges of her vision and she had to struggle not to pass out.

“Juliette.”

Oh how she hated when he said her name like that, in that sing-song manner.

“Five hundred,” she said. “I have … it was all I could get.”

There was a hiss of air being sucked through clenched teeth.

“Oh that isn’t what we agreed to at all, is it, Juliette? That isn’t even half.”

“I’ll get the rest—”

“You know, it’s not about the money, Juliette. It’s about keeping your word. I was really good to you, wasn’t I? I gave you time—”

“One day isn’t—”

Arlo kept on talking. “I thought for sure we had some kind of understanding when we spoke yesterday. But maybe you just don’t care about your sister as much as you claim. Maybe you’re hoping I’ll take the hindrance off your hands.”

“No! Please, Arlo, just give me a little—”

“The time for bargaining is over, Juliette. I want your sister delivered to me by six PM sharp tonight or I will get her myself.”

Chapter 2

The shivering wouldn’t stop. It ravaged the length of her body in rivulets of hot and cold so severe, it was worse than the time she’d had the flu and had to be admitted to the hospital. Every inch of her hurt with a viciousness that felt stifling and unbearable. She couldn’t breathe and the world kept going in and out of focus.

Somehow, by some miracle, she found herself at home. Its emptiness seemed to howl around her in a cruel sort of silence. Puddles of light and shadow spilled across every room in a filmy dark gold. The previous night’s supper, something cheesy and creamy, lingered through the space, yet despite the fact that she was starving, the scent made her queasy. Her insides roiled and gave her just enough warning to get her sprinting for the bathroom.