Chapter 1

Friday morning

I wanted to scream into the phone and curse this crazy woman out. Every time I tried to get a word in, she would talk over me about how we were overcharging her at our bank, and we should be ashamed of ourselves. Finally, having enough, I hung up and removed the headset running my fingers against my temple. A migraine was starting to build, and I still had another two hours before lunch, and I only brought a salad and chips, but I might go across the street to the cafe and grab a sandwich or something. The second issue was this bra was sticking me in the side of my breasts, and I wanted to take it off, but me roaming around the office with no support would have the entire room looking at me crazy. Life hadn’t gone the way I planned because I was still working a dead-end job for a company that refused to see my capabilities. Plus, I lived with a roommate that was always trying to get me laid because she thought I was missing out on my potential husband. Sandra was just man crazy and money hungry. She was my best friend, but my style and personality was so different from hers that I sometimes still questioned how we became best friends. I remember how we met. After all, she accidentally hit my car, six years ago, because she’d broken up with her boyfriend and she was crying and not paying attention. I’d ended up getting dumped because the guy that will not be named said I wasn’t spontaneous enough; I was too uptight and boring. I can’t help that I’m introverted and meeting new people and not being as experienced in the sex department like his previous girlfriends caused him to cheat and make it seem like it was my fault. Melvin was the asshole from six years ago, then I started dating a guy casually a year ago, Mark Sanchez, a coworker of mine. That was a disaster waiting to happen because he thought it would be cool to bring another woman into our relationship, thinking it would help me to loosen up. It probably would have worked better if I didn’t walk in on them already in bed at my apartment without any warning. So, the tension at work finally died down six months ago, but sometimes it got awkward during lunch breaks in the employee lounge. Sandra even took me to a sex shop to figure out what I liked or didn’t like. Honestly, I never really thought about bringing toys in my bedroom. Maybe it was the type of man I was dating that caused my lack of sexual appetite to be shown. Right now, I needed to get lunch and head home because I was meeting Sandra at some bar she liked to frequent called Red Light District. I’d only heard about it because of her. Hopefully, it wasn’t someplace that would cause me to regret it in the morning. Logging out of my computer, I grabbed my ID badge and purse, then headed toward the kitchen to grab my lunch and leave out of the building for a break. Walking past a group of coworkers, they started giggling, and I rolled my eyes. I was not letting my temper get the best of me. I was on my last leg with this job because I tended to come in late when I had to take my mom to the doctor for her appointments. She was in the last stages of her chemo treatments for breast cancer and my boss didn’t care. Carol had always been a bitch and I didn’t kiss her ass like everyone else at work. Closing the fridge, I rolled my eyes again and left the kitchen as my phone rang. I tapped the elevator for the lobby, and it opened right when the phone stopped. A text message popped up from Sandra.

Sandra: Don’t forget Red Light District

Me: I won’t

Sandra: I picked out something for you to wear

Another reason I didn’t want to go, she hated when we went out because I was always wearing jeans or long dresses that covered my body. I’m not ashamed of my body, but I liked to dress comfortably either at work or when going out. So, I stuck to things that weren’t tight or too revealing. Always having to pull on a top or dress to keep from showing off the goods was not my idea of a fun night out.

Me: I had something to wear

Sandra: I burned it

Me: Rude

Sandra: You’ll thank me later

Closing out of my phone, the elevator doors opened, and I stepped off. Heading out of the building, I walked past a homeless woman sitting down on the ground selling candles. Living in New York, you find any and everything being sold on the street.

“How much for the vanilla one?” I asked. She looked up at me, grinning.

When she smiled, I saw a few of her front corner teeth missing, a small scar across her brow, and a short jet-black hair cut. She had to be around sixty or older. I wondered where her family was, and if they knew she was out here alone trying to make a living.

“How are you, Kimberly?” she asked, picking up the bag, placing the vanilla candle inside.

“Do I know you?” I questioned.

I looked around, wondering if I was being punked. At first, the streets were filled with people walking, and now it was completely empty.

“No, but I know you, and I’m glad you’ve finally made contact with me.”

“Excuse me? Made contact?” I wondered, pointing at myself.

She nodded her head and stood up. “Here’s your candle. We’ll have more time to talk when you’re no longer at work,” she stated, passing me the bag and taking my five-dollar bill. I took the packet in my hand and felt a substantial wind shift. As soon as I turned, I heard the loud honking of a horn. I looked over my shoulder at the cab driver screaming at the bike rider and placed my focus back on the older woman.

“What the…!” I yelled, seeing she wasn’t there anymore. I looked to my left of where my office building was, and around the corner of the wall she was sitting in front of, and there was no trace of her.