Sequel: Kids. ›
***.
Double life.
A cold wind rattled the windows of the small, well-kept house as Amie opened the door. Stepping gingerly over the threshold, she threw her coat against a chair and ran a hand through her hair, feeling the residual chill of the early morning air cling to it.
Despite the cold making her limbs ache and the sting of eyes gone far too long without sleep, she couldn't help but smile at the patter of small feet that filled the hallway.
"Holly." She greeted the golden-haired child warmly, sweeping her into her arms. Holding her daughter tightly, Amie glanced upward to meet the eyes of a young woman who watched them with a knowing smile.
"Thankyou Abby" Amie's voice was tired, but grateful. she stood slowly, balancing Holly on her hip as she did so.
"Same time again tonight?" Abby asked, watching Holly as Amie rumagged through her bag.
"Yeah... Yes. Thanks" Amie offered the younger woman an envelope, which Abby took silently, noting the weight of it in her palm.
A few minutes later Amie closed the door on both Abby and the cold, bitter wind which clawed at the doorstep like a forgotten pet. She was glad that the weather had only decided to worsen in the early hours of dawn. Around two am or so, it had grown ferocity. She wouldn't have liked to have to contend with the elements on those bare, exposed streets.
The small, dark haired woman tried her hardest to pay attention to her three year old's excited chatter, but she barely hung onto the words. Something about a dream she had that night. With butterflies - giant ones, if Amie's tired mind had heard correctly.
Holly always had those sort of dreams. Bright and lovely. Never was the youth burdened with nightmares.
"Beautiful dear," Amie sighed sweetly "Now, go get ready".
She ushered her daughter to the top floor in their tiny two-bedroom house.
This was their routine. Three days in five Amie would work the night shift. Eight in the evening to six in the morning. When she got home she would ready Holly for preschool at six-thirty. And then she would sleep.
Tuesdays and Fridays, she worked part time at a small botique for some extra cash.
And then there was the weekends. They were just for her and Holly. Always. No exceptions.
Amie only had three rules when it came to her life outside of that eight-til-six shift.
1. Weekends were off limits.
2. No one was ever to contact her at home. Especially outside of buisness hours.
3. Holly was to be kept completely unaware of what went on. Not a hint was ever to get through to her innocent daughter about the way her mother paid the bills.
That was why the shrill ring of her cell suprised her so much when it broke through her thoughts. She flipped it open without checking the number.
"Hello?"
"Shortie?"
"John?!"
"Oh, good, it is you. Listen I..."
Amie cut him off sharply, her voice a hiss. "John, what time is it?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Uh, six-fifteen." The gruff voice replied with hesitance.
"Yes, John. Six. Fifteen." Amie elaborated each word, near fuming. "How many times do I have to tell you? Never, EVER call me after six!"
The man, though twenty years her senior, was admitly a little frightened by the young womans outburst.
"My apologies, ma'am. Important buisness is...."
"Shit, John! What if Holly picked up the phone?" Amie paced a few steps to calm herself. "I don't care how important you think it is. If you ever call me at home again, I will ensure that some notable authorites get into your 'Important Buisness'".
"I... Uh... Sorry Amie".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a dirty office on the second floor of a near- abandoned building downtown, a man in his early fourties put down the phone and ran a hand over his rough, unshaven face.
"Shit". The cracked from his throat.
John Dayle didn't doubt the truth in the notorious pimp's threat. She had done worse to others before him, for doing less than he had.
Her anger wasn't entirely unjustified though, he knew. She was just protecting that angel-eyed kid of hers. Amie would give up anything for that little girl.
Despite the cold making her limbs ache and the sting of eyes gone far too long without sleep, she couldn't help but smile at the patter of small feet that filled the hallway.
"Holly." She greeted the golden-haired child warmly, sweeping her into her arms. Holding her daughter tightly, Amie glanced upward to meet the eyes of a young woman who watched them with a knowing smile.
"Thankyou Abby" Amie's voice was tired, but grateful. she stood slowly, balancing Holly on her hip as she did so.
"Same time again tonight?" Abby asked, watching Holly as Amie rumagged through her bag.
"Yeah... Yes. Thanks" Amie offered the younger woman an envelope, which Abby took silently, noting the weight of it in her palm.
A few minutes later Amie closed the door on both Abby and the cold, bitter wind which clawed at the doorstep like a forgotten pet. She was glad that the weather had only decided to worsen in the early hours of dawn. Around two am or so, it had grown ferocity. She wouldn't have liked to have to contend with the elements on those bare, exposed streets.
The small, dark haired woman tried her hardest to pay attention to her three year old's excited chatter, but she barely hung onto the words. Something about a dream she had that night. With butterflies - giant ones, if Amie's tired mind had heard correctly.
Holly always had those sort of dreams. Bright and lovely. Never was the youth burdened with nightmares.
"Beautiful dear," Amie sighed sweetly "Now, go get ready".
She ushered her daughter to the top floor in their tiny two-bedroom house.
This was their routine. Three days in five Amie would work the night shift. Eight in the evening to six in the morning. When she got home she would ready Holly for preschool at six-thirty. And then she would sleep.
Tuesdays and Fridays, she worked part time at a small botique for some extra cash.
And then there was the weekends. They were just for her and Holly. Always. No exceptions.
Amie only had three rules when it came to her life outside of that eight-til-six shift.
1. Weekends were off limits.
2. No one was ever to contact her at home. Especially outside of buisness hours.
3. Holly was to be kept completely unaware of what went on. Not a hint was ever to get through to her innocent daughter about the way her mother paid the bills.
That was why the shrill ring of her cell suprised her so much when it broke through her thoughts. She flipped it open without checking the number.
"Hello?"
"Shortie?"
"John?!"
"Oh, good, it is you. Listen I..."
Amie cut him off sharply, her voice a hiss. "John, what time is it?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Uh, six-fifteen." The gruff voice replied with hesitance.
"Yes, John. Six. Fifteen." Amie elaborated each word, near fuming. "How many times do I have to tell you? Never, EVER call me after six!"
The man, though twenty years her senior, was admitly a little frightened by the young womans outburst.
"My apologies, ma'am. Important buisness is...."
"Shit, John! What if Holly picked up the phone?" Amie paced a few steps to calm herself. "I don't care how important you think it is. If you ever call me at home again, I will ensure that some notable authorites get into your 'Important Buisness'".
"I... Uh... Sorry Amie".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a dirty office on the second floor of a near- abandoned building downtown, a man in his early fourties put down the phone and ran a hand over his rough, unshaven face.
"Shit". The cracked from his throat.
John Dayle didn't doubt the truth in the notorious pimp's threat. She had done worse to others before him, for doing less than he had.
Her anger wasn't entirely unjustified though, he knew. She was just protecting that angel-eyed kid of hers. Amie would give up anything for that little girl.