Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
"Oh, hi," I say as I turn the corner and nearly run into a small group of women.
Of the group of five, two say hello. These women have been inside the store many times over the last several months, telling me that they're local. I look over every beautiful face, wondering if they're sisters or somehow all related because they're each beauty pageant beautiful.
Resisting the urge to run a hand over my head, I frown when I notice that Alena isn't in the group today. She has been the one who has always been quick to speak to me when she's at the store.
"Where's Alena?"
The women all stand a little taller, making me feel even shorter than my normal five feet five inches.
They look among themselves before one steps forward and says something I don't understand in what I think is Russian before they all walk away.
I'm left standing in the middle of an aisle, just looking after them, as if the interaction didn't happen.
I don't exactly feel insulted, but I know the woman who spoke to me knows some English. I've heard her speak it to Alena before when they've been here previously, and the fact that she's not doing it now makes my suspicions rise.
I know it's part boredom and part annoyance that makes me wait in the parking lot for them to finish their shopping, check out, and leave. My clunker of a car doesn't go very quickly, but thankfully, two of the nearby factories have also closed down, making traffic for them slower.
I'm five cars behind them, wondering why a group of women need to be chauffeured to do their grocery shopping when they pull into a not-so-great neighborhood.
None of it makes sense.
The SUV has to have cost a pretty penny, yet the house they pull up to is barely half a step above a hovel. The women in the SUV climb out, unloading groceries without the help of the driver, which annoys me probably more than it should.
Just when I'm thinking the house is much too small for five women to live there, six if I include Alena, four more women step out of the house and climb into the SUV. I recognize a couple of them from previous shopping trips to the grocery store, but none of them are Alena.
Because I don't have anything better to do, I plan to follow the SUV when it pulls away from the house, waiting until three cars line up behind them at a red light before pulling out.
I can't recall another time, other than that one in high school when I tried to follow a boy my friend liked, that I ever tried to tail someone, but I've seen it a million times in the movies, so I pull knowledge from that.
The drive takes us right back into the industrial area near the grocery store, which is odd. I imagined the women being part of a flashy Vegas show or possibly waitresses at one of the major casinos because of their beauty and height. I never imagined they'd park just outside of a rundown building and file into one of the side doors.
What I don't miss is the look on each of their faces. There are no smiles. They aren't laughing with each other or joking. They aren't animated with their hands or telling stories.
Each one seems resigned, as if they are facing something none of them want to be involved in.
I crouch down in the driver's seat of my car when the SUV pulls away from the building, driving in my direction, making me realize that I seriously suck at any sort of covert endeavor.
When he's gone, I pop back up, knowing I should get my ass out of here, but I look toward the building once again. There's no sign, nothing that indicates what type of building it is. What I do know is there is a lot of seedy shit that goes down in Vegas. There are a lot of people in roles that are meant to protect the citizens and visitors who would change their behaviors based on who is lining their pockets.
I don't feel comfortable calling the police, because, honestly, what do I know about what's going on inside? The answer is absolutely nothing.
I also sometimes have a sneer on my face when heading in for a shift at work, so not being happy all the time isn't new to me either.
I pull in a deep breath, fighting the urge to get out of my car and knock on the door they entered.
Deciding that it's none of my business, that the women from earlier could've walked through the front door of the grocery store and right out the back if they were in danger, I pull away and drive home.
Chapter 3
Heathen
"Did you see the hot tub?" I ask, finding myself incapable of wiping the smile off my face.