Chapter Two: One Condition

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“Oh what do you want when the bitches come? What do you do when he comes for you? I swear, knock down the doors and flip shit! Nobody cares if you’re worth a shit. Yeah, yeah!” Victoria sang, whipping her red hair around her face. Rock was her medicine and without it she’d be a dead woman.

Someone pounded on her door and she ignored it, taking another swig from her bottle of alcohol. In her drunken state, Victoria was always more rebellious than usual. She didn’t take shit from anyone and sure as hell didn’t appreciate anyone’s feedback or criticism. She wasn’t an actress—she didn’t have to put up with the shit.

“Yeah! Yeah! Please go out and bitch! You mother fuckers are a trip!” She kicked her bedpost as the pounding on the door began again. “What the fuck do you want?” she screamed.

“Victoria, answer this door!” the landlady ordered.

Groaning, Victoria sauntered over to the door and opened it slightly, her bottle of vodka behind her back. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Picket?” She allowed her voice to be smooth as the music behind her blared out profanities.

“Turn down the music, people are trying to sleep.” The lady was in her late forties at least with wrinkles and short icky brown hair. She always wore western style T-shirts, cropped shorts and cowboy boots.

“I’ve heard no complaints.” Victoria giggled, swaying a little.

Mrs. Picket sighed. “You’re drunk. Just turn off the music and take some Tylenol, okay?”

“Fuck you, okay? Wait, I have a song for you, don’t move!” Victoria wobbled over to her stereo and changed the song, running back to the door to sing it for the lady. “When all else fails in life, you can’t end on grief and strife. When life gets you down….” The music started to pick up. “You keep bitches from your door!” she hollered the lyric in Mrs. Picket’s face and then clutched her side with laughter when Mrs. Picket took a surprised step back.

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s it, you are evicted, get out!”

Victoria was still laughing, rolling on the floor with hysterics. “B-but it was such a good song. Plus, I pay my rent on time, are you kidding me? You can’t kick me out!”

“You’re a nuisance to all those in the building, you are done, get out.”

“Can I at least like pack my stuff maybe or something?” She chuckled.

“Out!” The lady pointed to the hallway and beyond.

“God, fine!” Victoria grabbed her vodka and swayed out of the room, taking swigs from her bottle every now and then on her way out. A couple of passerby “neighbors” glared at her as she descended the stairs. “What the fuck are you looking at you bastards?” They quickly looked away.

Victoria stepped out into the cool darkening air and adjusted her crop top around her shoulders. It was a bad time for her to be wearing her daisy dukes, combat boots and no freaking underwear. She swore under her breath and slipped her shades out of her pocket and onto her face. The bottle of vodka would keep her sane… for tonight at least.

The farther she wobbled down the sidewalk, the more her stomach started to feel… light on air. It was as if she was anticipating something inevitable. She took it as a side effect from the alcohol and kept walking. She hated the landlady and hoped she broke a hip or something. She smiled, and then bumped into a tall dark figure in front of her.

Victoria lost her balance a little and then steadied herself, looking up into glorious heavily lashed brown eyes. She felt her glasses fall off of her face and grew angry. “Move you rapist!” she snapped. A scalding fire reached up her arms where his hands touched and then down to her legs and straight to the middle of her core. She gasped and her heart picked up speed.