Holding Onto Nothing

These people keep staring at me. I hate it. Haven't they seen a girl with a septum piercing before? It's not like I have blue skin. You'd think that people would be more accepting of these things by now, but nope. Not a chance.
The night life is great. Roaming around the streets at one in the morning is actually quite fun, especially when you have rich people living nearby. But what's even better....
Having rich people who throw parties that anyone can go to. It makes my job easier. You can get in and out real quick taking something small of high value when a lot of people are in the house, most of which the hosts don't know. The same house I was at last weekend is having another party, and by the looks of it, it's a hell of a good one. Cars line the block on both sides, and I see people walking--like me--from another block entirely.
I pull my sleeves down and check my outfit once more before walking up the drive and into the house. My sheer, black lace shirt, black bandeau, and black skinny jeans seem to look good. My burgundy Vans give a bit of color along with my lipstick, and my hair is naturally wavy and it looks lovely for once in my life.
Okay, this should be easy.
I enter the house and am instantly surrounded by people. There weren't this many people the last time I was here. Holy shit. I squeeze my way through the crowd into the kitchen. Kegs and bottles are everywhere I turn. I head straight for the whiskey and pour myself a cup.
"You're not gonna mix it with anythin'?"
I turn and my heart stops in my chest. The owner of this voice is rather good looking. "Nope."
"It's like, sixty-five percent alcohol."
A smile crosses my lips, "Perfect."
I take a sip and walk away. This guy can't tail me tonight, he'll completely--
"Oi, where ya goin'?" --ruin my plan.
"I am going to enjoy this party."
I down my drink and throw the cup in the nearest trash bin. He better not get in my way. I really need this one to go smoothly.
I check behind me and see the guy following, his eyes never leaving mine. Let's make this interesting...
A wall of bodies line what I assume is the dance floor, and I push through. People are grinding on each other like it's their job, and I think that in the middle of their little cluster would be the perfect place to hide for a bit. Magically, I do get to the middle, and I instantly regret it. It's way too hot here, and the guy who grabbed my hips has a vice grip.
"That'll be enough of this." I yell over the music, throwing the guy's hands off of me.
"I don't think so, sweetheart, come on and dance a bit longer."
"Not gonna happen. Listen, if you go for another girl, loosen your grip, I thought I was going to get bruised."
"Don't be such a bad sport," the guy begs in an English accent, "Come dance with good ol' Matty."
I roll my eyes. He did not just refer to himself in third person. "No thanks, Matty."
"Fine, be a bitch then."
I shrug and say, "Hey, whatever helps ya sleep at night, ya wanker. Names don't bother me."
A few people around us laugh and I make my escape. Where is that stair case? Ah, there it is.
After I make sure no one is following me, I run up the stairs and into the first bedroom on the right. This was the one that had some nice medication in their dresser, as well as weed. These people here don't mess around it seems. They get the good stuff. Lucky.
I slip a bottle of pills into my front pocket, and go to slip the weed into my bandeau, but I hear footsteps. "Shit." I mumble, sliding under the bed.
The door opens and I see a pair of Vans. Good taste, my friend, very good taste. "No, I don't want to hear it! Jesus....I got to go."
The angry man hangs up and sits on the bed. My breath catches in my throat. He is so close. Wait...I know that voice. It's the guy from the kitchen!
"She sure knows how to ruin a party..." He mumbles leaving the room, closing it behind him.
I exhale and crawl out from my hiding spot. There's one more thing I need to get. This necklace that has a beautiful diamond on it. I can make some bank on it.
Just as I grab, the door opens and I freeze. Oh no...
"Oi! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I drop the necklace and immediately run to the closest window. I just get my leg out when I'm pulled back in.
Never have I ever been caught in the three years I've been doing this. Never.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"I, uh, I--"
"I should call the police."
My eyes grow wide. The police? No. "Um, no, I'm sorry. Really sorry. Um..." I try to think of something, ANYTHING, that will get me out of this. I've never had to worry about this....dammit.
"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't, I might not call 'em if it's good enough."
My head snaps up. What? Is this dude--it's the guy from the kitchen...He would catch me. "Because I didn't take anything?"
He raises an eyebrow. "So you wouldn't consider the medicine anything?"
He knows?
"Yeah, I noticed that, you left the drawer open slightly and I checked inside and nothing was there."
He's smart. "Fine, here." I slap the medicine into his hands.
"Weed, too."
I mumble a lot of nasty words under my breath as I reach into my bandeau and pull it out. "You're smart," I say laughing slightly, more like a nervous little giggle.
"I know. What the hell were you doing stealing this?"
"I have a valid reason."
"Druggie?"
I shake my head.
"Then explain why you went for the meds and weed."
"Went home and looked up the values of it. You have some good pain killers and weed, I would've been able to sell it for a lot."
"So you're a dealer?"
I make a kinda-sorta motion with my hands.
"The hell is that supposed ta mean?"
"I sell anything I want. If there are good meds in a house, then there are. I'd rather sell medicine than some jewelry or other things that may have sentimental to the person...it just all depends how much money I need that week."
He nods his head, then his eyes open widely. His eyes are beautiful. "You were here before?"
I nod.
"When?"
I smirk. "Last weekend. You throw a lot of parties, you made it easy to get in, scan the house, take anything small with value, and take notes on what to snatch next time."
"How long have you been doing this?" He asks rather amused.
I flex. "Three years strong."
"And what's the money for?"
"To make sure I have a place to stay and not have to worry about the apartment head honcho doesn't come into my room while Im sleeping anymore..."
"He did that?"
I nod.
"Why?"
I shake my head. Don't tell him a damn thing.
"Listen...I'm sure whatever happened must've been awful for ya...but how much do you pay to stay there?"
"Four hundred and thirty a month for rent, add another four hundred to keep him out."
His jaw drops. "Are ya kiddin' me?"
I shake my head again.
"What's your name, love?"
"What?"
"I'm Oliver, you can call me Oli. So what's your name?"
"Um...I'm, uh, Lolita."
"Nice to meet you, welcome to your new house."