"Fuck, someone hand me a pipe already," my irate voice was drowned out by the Guns N' Roses blaring out of Penny's speakers. This light was taking forever and the sunlight glaring off of every car that flew by was blinding. The signs lining the Strip were like a thousand little suns in the day. My head throbbed; it felt like my eyes would pop out of my head any second. Penny was going to have permanent holes in her dashboard from the irritated tapping of my fingers.

        "You're a very sexy girl who's very hard to please...!" Axl Rose's lovely voice blared out of the speakers. I couldn't help but get a half-smile out of that.

        "Yeah, I know Axl."

        The light finally changed. Penny jackrabbited forward. Fucking broken clutch. Fucking car. Shift. It was still too hot even though I was finally moving again. On days like this, I envied people with their fuckin' in-car air conditioners. My face felt like it was going to fall off from the heat. Even with the windows down, the Vegas air was just too hot. My head was killing me. I would have happily keeled over dead. Fucking Asshole had to go and fuck everything up. Michael was in jail for domestic abuse with a convenient thousand-dollar fine for what Asshole did. I had to trade in Penny because of all those people and...! I smashed my hands against the steering wheel and screamed. Another red light. One of the guys in the truck next to me stared. Fuck them.

        Skid Row took over on the radio. I turned it off. Fucking radio. I pulled a cigarette out of my purse and lit it up. Right after I took a drag, the light turned green. Of-fucking-course. I would have screamed again if I wasn't clenching the cigarette between my teeth. It was noon and the day was already grody. To the max. Fuck it all.

        I turned on a road next to The Sands. The club stood tall and dominated the Strip. Old people went there, but it was still one of the most happenin' places in Vegas. I never understood why flamingo dancers or old-people music was interesting. The Rat Pack was elevator music; how the hell did people enjoy it?

        The police station was right next to The Sands. I parked Penny as far away from the cop cars as possible and pulled myself out of the old Ford. The police station was a drab single-story gray building lost in the shadow of the multi-story club that was its neighbor. The black-and-white cars sitting in the lot set me on edge. I was ready to leave already. Mike needed me, though. I grabbed my purse and strutted across the lot into the doors of the station.

        They couldn't even bother having air conditioning. White square fans were placed in random places on the dingy linoleum tile. They were doing nothing against the Vegas heat.

        Fuck the cops.

        Wait.

        I had probably already done that.

        Well, hell.

        "This ain't a place fer a pretty lady like yerself!" His voice was very gruff and obvious in the small foyer of the station. The overweight man stood behind a plastic window in the wall, his scroungy hair obscuring his features. I crossed the room and pulled a wad of Benjamins out of my back pocket.

        "I'm here to get Micheal Poplar." The cop's expression immediately darkened. I slid the money underneath the plastic barrier.

        "Oh, are ye eager tah git abused again er somefin?" He slowly counted the bills. One... two... three... He noticed my clenched jaw and raised an eyebrow.

        "Your job isn't to ask questions -" "Bentley" was scrawled in large golden script on a name tag sewn onto his navy blue uniform "- Officer Bentley. Your job is to let prisoners out of jail." He paused counting. "How many times do you have to count to ten to know it's a thousand, Officer?"

        It was his turn to clench his jaw. He plodded out of the room behind the window by opening a door to the hallway full of jail cells. I had been here before on several occasions; always for underage drinking or drug charges. Mom always had to come and get me.

        I sighed and made my way over to sit in one of the brown metal chairs lining the wall. Mom. She had been delirious before my trip to get Michael. The whole right half of her face was ruined. She still seemed to be in shock, like what had happened had yet to catch up with her. I was afraid of what would happen when it did. Would she be able to still be a whore? Would Mike still work with me if Mom -- Crash!

        Mike was shoved out of the heavy gray door to the right of the plastic window. His nose was bloodied and one of his eyes was swollen shut. What the hell?

        Crash! The door shut.

        Bentley called us over and we signed a few papers before walking out of the station. The cop kept things formal, but cast the occasional glare at me or Mike. We left after the signing and silently walked across the lot to Penny. We climbed in and sat. And sat. Mike was too quiet.

        "Mike, what happened?" He turned to look at me. He looked exhausted.

        "Dakota, you got'a smoke?" He really was tired. Where was Boss' energy? The half-smoked cigarette from earlier was sitting next to the parking brake. I handed it and a light to Mike. He smoked the whole thing before saying another word.

        "The cops came pretty much right after you left with that guy," Mike began, his gaze fixated on a rip in the fabric above his head. "Me 'n Rose obviously couldn't just say we had shot someone. I was the abusive boyfriend. I told 'em that we had ten Bennies sittin' on the counter, to just go on to mer important matters. Cops clubbed me 'cross da head fer that 'un. Cellmates weren't no kinder. I didn't sleep last night."

        Mom had told me what happened, but she had left the "Mike gets the shit knocked out of him" part out of her story. I stole a sideways glance at my boss, shaking my head. I raised myself up and pulled a joint out of my back pocket, handing it to Mike. He took it gratefully.

        "That one's rolled 'specially for you, Mikey," I said when he tried to offer me a hit. He let out a pained chuckle at that.

        I started up Penny and released the parking brake, pulling back onto the road next to The Sands and then onto the main drag.

        "So what 'appen'd with Asshole last night?" He asked after we pulled onto the Strip.

        Red light. Brake. Downshift.

        "We have to sell Penny," I said unhappily, patting the Pinto's dashboard. "People saw."

        I saw Mike nod out of the corner of my eye. We didn't talk while we drove down the road. Eventually, we turned into a used car lot (cleverly named "Used Car Lot") and pulled up to the small brick building that all the cars were pointing away from. Before I had even killed Penny, a salesman was slinking right on out of his bungalow. I hated these people. Fuck them.

        Hell, fuck everything. I had to sell Penny!

        "Hey Little Lady, what can I help you with?" God, even the salesman's voice made me angry.

        I pulled myself out of Penny and shut her door behind me. Used Car Lot had quite a few different car styles sitting around. A golden car with a pointed front immediately caught my attention. The sun glinted painfully against the sparkly paint. It was definitely an annoying-enough color.

        The salesman followed my gaze.

        "That's about twelve years old; seventy-eight Camaro Z28. I don't know if you've ever heard of them, but Little Lady, that car's got a lot of power!" He glanced over at Penny then back to me. He was going to try to sell me a family car. Jesus, personally fuck him.

        "I need to trade in my car and I want the Camaro," I said bluntly, crossing my arms. The salesman regarded Penny, peeking his head inside the open driver's window to see the condition of the interior. He didn't pay any mind to Mike, who was slumped over and half-asleep in the passenger side of the Pinto.

        "I'll give you three grand for the Pinto," he said, straightening himself out. "The Camaro's five grand. I do think I have just the car for you, though!" My god he was like a hyper-active puppy. How could he move around so much in that black suit under the sun?

        "How much would the Camaro be with a blowjob and a lay?" I hadn't moved from where I was. The salesman, who was halfway across the lot under the delusion I wanted a family car, immediately stopped when he heard me. He slowly turned toward me.

        "Five hundred if you trade in the Pinto." His happy-go-lucky demeanor flipped off like a switch. He looked me over like some kind of starved animal. Jesus, how long had this guy gone without a lay?

        "I think I can do that," I walked over to Penny and grabbed my purse from inside the car. "I wanna drive it first." The salesman was waiting for me at the door to the small building at the center of the lot. I followed him inside to a grody office. The smell of mildew made the space almost unbearable. I didn't bother sitting down, instead handing him my fake driver's license that labelled me as a twenty-one year-old.

        He nodded and handed me the key to the Camaro. I glanced outside; Mike was sitting on Penny's hood smoking a cigarette. The salesman put his hand on the small of my back. Ugh I didn't want him to touch me. I walked forward as quickly as my cheetah high heels would allow, clopping right up to Mike.

        "Wanna test drive the Camaro with me?" I asked him, putting a hand on his arm. He looked over at me and nodded. He flicked the cigarette and the car salesman walked us over to the golden car.

        "Oh, it has a great interior! The radio is perfect! It has..." Mom was right; these people didn't know how to shut the fuck up. I let the salesman open the driver's door of the Camaro. The interior was nice. I sat with my legs out the door and removed my shoes. Mike sat down in the passenger seat. The salesman talked. Cars roared by on the Strip.

        I pulled myself to sit correctly and turned the car on. My legs stuck to the hot leather; my face felt like it was being pulled off by the heat. There wasn't a window crank on the door, so that meant...

        Oh my god, it has power windows! I pressed the buttons under the gearshift and the windows rolled down. The air conditioner button sat right under the cassette player and I turned it on sixty-five. Hot air immediately came from the vents.

        "Oh God, is the A/C broken?" I glared outside at the salesman, clicking the air conditioner off. He laughed.

        "No, you have to keep it running before it gets cold," he said with a smile, showing off a golden tooth cap. "We don't have the tech yet to get the air to come out cold instantly!" I had obviously never been in a car with an air conditioner. The salesman stopped laughing when he saw me glaring at him.

        I clicked the air conditioner back on and closed my door. Thankfully, the Camaro was a manual. The car rolled forward without an issue, unlike Penny whose clutch was going out. I pulled onto the Strip and looked toward Mike. The Camaro was a solid car, I didn't need to pay much attention to how it handled.

        "Mike, you OK?" He turned toward me and gave me a look I couldn't identify. A shiver rolled down my spine. We sat at a stoplight.

        "Dakota, you can't end up like your mom," he told me soberly. My mind froze up. Mike. My boss. He was telling me to stop being a whore? It was the only fucking thing I knew how to do and I loved it. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel. There wasn't anything like the thrill of partying and not knowing what the next guy will do to you. The high stakes, life or death, kept me going as surely as coke.

        The light we were sitting at turned green. The Camaro slid slightly as I pulled it into a u-turn to head back to Used Car Lot.

        "That's why I'm gonna be sure to know everything I can about every guy who comes through," Mike seemed like he was in a daze. I exhaled. I didn't have to stop. Mike had this handled. We turned into Used Car Lot. I pulled the Camaro up next to Penny and the salesman was immediately on us again before we could even get out of the car.

        "So how was it?" He asked eagerly. I took a moment to climb out of the low-set car and close its door behind me. I regarded the chubby salesman and nodded.

        "I'll take it," I was going to miss Penny; I patted the Pinto's top. "Would you like to settle the payment now?"

        I didn't want him to touch me. Unfortunately, jobs had to be done. I needed that Camaro; there wasn't more of a jump from a seventies station wagon to an almost-modern sportscar.

        "Yeah, follow me and we'll... settle things," he winked at me. I glanced over at Mike.

        "Hey Mike, can you move the shit outta Penny into my new car?" He nodded at my request and I gave him a quick smile before following the salesman into the grody building.

✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

        I started up the Camaro. I felt gross. The salesman was so nasty and sweaty and... I groaned unhappily at the thought. Luckily, it was a quick transaction. The blowjob was almost as bad as the sex. My appetite for the day was ruined. I clicked my tongue on the top of my mouth.

        "That. Was. Awful." I said slowly to Mike, who seemed almost amused at my displeasure.

        "Ohh, Babe, I'm sure you've done worse," he said. Thank God, he was almost back to himself now. He still seemed a little spaced out, though.

        "Uhm, excuse you, but if you ever had to swallow cum, you'd understand that it never gets easier." I wish there was something to get the taste out of my mouth. When I was smaller, I specifically remember puking when the guys came. I almost wished I hadn't stopped throwing up-- even bile tasted better than cum. Ugh.

        I put the Camaro in gear. The air conditioning worked almost immediately after I started down the Strip. I rolled up the windows and turned on the radio. Static. Great.

        "Hey Mike, can you tune that to a station pretty please?"

        I heard him make a scoffing noise, but he leaned over and started to tune across the static. He was careful to not get in the way of gear shift and quickly located a station. It was the rock station I had had Penny turned to. Penny. Everything went so far downhill in one day: First my mom and then my car. Fucking hell.

        A few minutes of driving on the Strip and down another road, we arrived at Mike's apartment. He thanked me and told me he would call later about any clients. I drove off. To school for last period math. It was the only class I actually enjoyed.

        Also, major bullshitting needed to happen. My friends surely had lots of stories to tell me about their weekends.

        Just wait until they hear mine! I frowned almost instantly at the selfish thought. Was impressing my friends really more important than Mom? Was I really proud to say that my mom almost died over the weekend from a murderous client? What the fuck did she even do to make Asshole mad anyway?

        I ground my teeth and turned up the radio. I needed a hit. Then I'd think less; become a jittery drone.

        Yeah, my mom almost died isn't that so much better than your weekend!?

        I angrily wiped a tear from my face. Think less.

✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

hi friends! thank you so much for reading! c:

i'll be trying to finish this whole nightmare before i go back and edit (unless it's a glaringly obvious mistake or something that really bugs me). thank you in advance for any comments on how to improve my writing! i appreciate any and all  help. :3

stay groovy!