Free Picture Perfect by Camille Dixon Page B

due?”
    “Three thousand three hundred dollars.”
    My breath hitched, then I remembered my photo shoot. “I could do half next Friday.” Devin’s check should cover that much, until I found some way to scrounge up the rest.
    Scribbling and the shuffle of papers ensued. “I’ll make a note of that. Please send a check to…”
    I barely had enough wits about me to write down the address and thank her before hanging up. I was numb. After ten years, I was tired of fighting the constant, neverending struggle.
    Wiping my tears away, I closed my eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths, my routine whenever things inevitably started to go awry. That’s when I noticed it, a tiny whimper coming from the hallway. It was so muffled that I at first wasn’t sure I’d heard it until a deep voice, like liquid darkness, slithered from the same direction. The same voice that haunted me, reminding me I was a prisoner here.
    Curtis.
    Suppressing the sickness churning in my stomach, I grabbed my pepper spray and tiptoed as quietly as I could into the hall. The floor vibrated with the pulse of the music as the show started, meaning all the girls were in the main hall vying for tips to dump in the scales.
    Up ahead, the massive costume closet door was open. A belt buckle rattled from within, followed by the rustle of pants falling to the floor. The girl started to sob , then the sound abruptly cut off, as if someone clamped a hand down over her mouth. Though he was speaking softly, I was close enough now to clearly hear Curtis’s voice. “You want a shot at the stage? Think I’m not giving you enough?”
    “No, no, I - you’re - I’m sorry I asked. I - I don’t know what I was thinking. Please let me go!”
    “Keep your fucking mouth shut! You women are all the same. You all want more, more, more. Never appreciate what I’ve done for you. It’s never enough.”
    The last words were slurred, more mumbled to himself than to her. My nose tickled with the smell of dust and whiskey, which seemed to hang around Curtis in a big, black cloud. For whatever reason, it had thickened over the past two weeks.
    “My little boy,” Curtis said, voice thick with emotion. “She took him away from me. Fucking bitch. I’ll show her. I’ll show all of you.”
    The girl began struggling and shrieking.
    Panic spiking, I saw a broom propped up on the other side of the hall, and without thinking, I promptly kicked it over. It landed with a loud clatter, silencing the horror about to unfold in the closet. A zipper began frantically easing up, and a moment later, Curtis stepped out into the hallway.
    I used to think he looked very sharp, but his suit was as wrinkled as I’d ever seen it, and his hair was disheveled, like he’d forgotten to comb it. His eyes were wild, glazed over and bloodshot to the point they almost blended in with his flushed face.
    I held my breath, thinking maybe he wouldn’t notice me, but then again how could he not? I was wearing lime green sequin, a freaking flashing sign that said I’M RIGHT HERE.
    After swaying for a few seconds, his eyes focused on me. “Why the hell aren’t you on the floor?” he demanded, charging toward me.
    Eyes on him, I started backing up, the cold wall pressing against my back two steps later. Fear coated my tongue as I searched for an escape route, but by then Curtis was already upon me. Not knowing what else to do, my arm shot up, my index finger poised over the button that would release the mace.
    Curtis drew up short, blinking slowly once, then his upper lip curled up in a sneer. “Well look at you, being all brave and shit.” He gripped my wrist, bringing his face closer to the mace.
    I pressed my lips together to keep them from trembling. Inside, it felt like an earthquake was going off. He was too close, and this hallway was too fucking small.
    “You think you’re above the law, Princess?” he hissed. “Around here, I am the law. I own you, all of you. Never forget