Nothing mentioned, nothing gained


You're here and then you're gone

Your complications keep me sane

We're cold and intimate

Meroko was restless, but she willed herself not to toss and turn. If she tossed and turned, she would lose the warm spot she'd made in her sheets, under a pile of second-hand blankets and even all her clothes. And it. Was so. Damn. Cold.

(She needed to get the heat turned on stat, even if she had to go without food for a week. All she wanted was to be warm.)

(All she wanted...)

"Our customers don't expect that kind of treatment." She blew two identical streams of smoke out of her nostrils before raising the cigarette for a heavy drag. Her heavily-lidded eyes flicked to meet Meroko's, and Meoroko could sense a faint disappointment. "If he never comes here again, that'll be your fault, you know?"

Meroko wiggled her toes nervously inside those damned four-inch platforms. Damn. Damn. Oh, God.

Candace nodded sharply. "What did he give you? You might as well look."

At first Meroko didn't understand. She stared at her boss for a moment before it dawned on her. She reached up toward her top and gingerly pulled out the bill, trying not to look at the figure.

"What is it?"

Meroko looked. "A hundred."

"You know, dear, I'm not your shrink… but how do you feel about that?"

Meroko replied honestly. "Surprised."

"Beyond that?"

"Kind of… satisfied?"

Candace nodded, sucking a deep drag of her cigarette at the same time. Meroko wondered if they called her Candy when she used to be a stripper. Ha. Candy Stripper.

Not the time, Meroko.

"You learn. Once you're in this business, it's about money. Not dignity. If he ever comes again, you make him comfortable. Act coy. I'm not saying to let it get out of control. For your own safety, dear, never let it get out of your control. Rule number one. "

"I… okay."

Candace shook her head. "Not to mention that you let him feel you up, right there in front of everyone. I'm trying to keep up the appearance of a semi-classy establishment. I try… Oh, never mind. I want you to take that kind of thing to the back rooms, you understand."

Meroko winced. "I… understand."

"Show me I chose right when I picked you up. In this profession, you have to be in control."

I'm not, Meroko thought, you chose wrong.

Candace shrugged and stood. She simply strode away, leaving a shivering Meroko in her wake.

"I'm letting you keep that because you were out three days. Don't know what you had, but it must've been bad, for a desperate little girl like you not to come to work." A smirk, almost teasing, flashed on her face. "A crisis of morality, mmm?"

A crisis of faith, Meroko thought, thinking again of wings and dying. And Izumi. And feeling like she wanted to cry all over again.

There was a loud rapping on her door that made Meroko flinch and nearly jump. Rapists, she thought, thieves, muggers, murderers… She was born in a nice little house in a nice area full of nice people. She was not cut out for this, this kind of real life. Not this or stripping, or… she could feel herself crying.

Izumi. Speak of the goddamn devil. It could only be him.

Ready to give him a piece of her mind, Meroko abandoned her bed (but not before pulling a blanket over her shoulders) and walked to the door. Her bare feet literally hurt against the cold floor. Like they were being stuck with vicious, small pins. She gritted her teeth and clutched at the blanket. Every one of them was Izumi. She could not show him her pain.

At the door, she didn't even check the eyehole to make sure it was him. She swung the door open.

"Do you have that sugar yet?"

"No," she said, sarcastic, "but I got some money, so maybe if come over tomorrow I can make you a cake, instead of paying for my heat or rent."

He frowned. "Electricity's off in the entire building. That's why it's so cold." She noticed that he was wearing multiple layers, a coat over a sweatshirt and a pair of pants and two pairs of socks. She gritted her teeth together and realized that she didn't have any socks. It was her greatest oversight.

She crossed her arms, partially for heat, and willed her body not to spasm, even against the cold that was travelling up her legs. "What do you want?"

He held up a candle. "Light would be nice."

She glared at him. "Stay out there – stay," she barked when he tried to come in. She scurried to the would-be kitchen of the room and dug out one of the few things in the drawers: a pack of matches.

"You can take them all," she said coldly, "I'm going back to bed."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Absolutely not," she said, even more disgusted. She slammed the door on his face and hoped that, maybe, now he felt the same pain that she had. Unlikely as it was, it gave her a sense of calm and control. Did he really think she was that loose all of a sudden, just because she worked at a burlesque club? Pig.

"You were crying." She could hear him, muffled, on the other side of the door. He didn't sound sorry. He should be.

"Wasn't," she contradicted viciously, readjusting the blanket around her.

"Shhh. You'll wake up the neighbors."

She slumped with her back against the door. She closed her eyes. "There are no damn neighbors."

"Why?" She imagined that he was slumped against the door, too, his back to hers through the wood.

"Do you even care?"

"Not particularly," he said.

She screwed up her nose.

"Why were you at Neon, anyway?"

"What did you say? I'm sorry, I can't hear you over here."

"Nothing."

"Why was I there?" Pause. "I like going to strip clubs."

"Why did you just watch, while he did that to me?"

"Can you figure it out? Me-chan?"

Sometimes, you can tell from someone's voice when they're smiling. Meroko could tell now. It cut like a knife. The honorific gave her shivers. So she was right. He had been Japanese, at least part.

"Don't call me that."

"Talking about the honorific? Can't deny what you are, Me-chan. No more than I can." He sounded wry. She wondered if there was a story behind his glassy eyes and suddenly, her feelings surged. She wanted. Wanted him, wanted to know. Wanted him to tell her. Wanted to be close enough for him to whisper it. She reached for the doorknob, but didn't turn it. She was too tired to be impulsive. The doorknob was so cold it burned, just like the cold had burned her feet. She held onto it anyway.

"Me-chan?"

"So what are you?" she finally said hotly, then, a bit more patiently: "I don't know what you are, okay? Just tell me. Please."

"I'm a voyeur, Me-chan. Self-acknowledged."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Not at all. I like pain, too."

"I already knew that," she snapped. She did. She clutched the doorknob tighter, more for support than anything else. She was shaking from the cold.

Sadistic bastard.

Her muscles tensed and untensed. "You can come in if you'd like," she said, not knowing where this was going to lead.

"It's not as if you can offer me coffee – are you offering me something else?"

Her jaw clenched. "I…"

"Are you cold at all, Me-chan?"

"Yes, I am."

"Shouldn't you get back to bed?"

"I should – "

"Go to bed," he finished, almost cheerily. "Goodnight."

She stayed slumped against the door, breathing steady through chattering teeth. She couldn't hear him on the other side, but she imagined his breathing (like a child's sigh) and thought that maybe he hadn't left, because she hadn't heard his door shut. She didn't know if it creaked like hers.

She stood, letting the cold pierce her feet. This time she didn't squirm. "Goodnight," she said, finally. There was no sound from the other side of the door. Had he gone?

She pressed her hands and her ear against the door, trying to imagine him there, even though, in all likelihood, he had already gone. Her skin was goose bumped from the cold. Her cheek against the cold wood. Somehow, she wished it was him.

God. She had it bad.

She sighed, then tiptoed back to bed, back to her safe, warm place. The goosebumps didn't go away. She stayed there, only half-asleep, until the cold dawn leaked in.