Phil didn't wake up at noon like the others. Dane left early, and at around the time they usually woke up, the girls got ready for a day out. They were so quiet I almost thought I'd gone deaf, and that maybe my vision was failing me too because they got ready just fine with all the lights off, and the blinds closed to keep sunlight out. I guess Dane's command was being taken seriously; I wondered if they were maybe afraid of him, or what he might do if they went against him. It made me worried for Phil, too, being in this situation.

By one o'clock it was just the two of us, and Phil was asleep and very still. Even pressed up against the mattress I couldn't hear it shift once. I got to my knees to check on him, looking just over the edge of the mattress. He was buried in the thin blanket up to his chin; his face was flushed and looked damp with sweat. I tentatively reached a hand out to touch his cheek, wincing at how warm he felt. I sat back on my heels, sighing a little, sympathetic; poor thing was out, um, servicing customers, all night, and now he was sick.

I wasn't really sure what to do, but I had an idea. If I had a little money I could go to a drug store or something –there had to be one nearby— and pick up some Tylenol or something. I didn't have any –I was dead broke. But Phil's wallet was poking out from under his pillow… I took a chance and carefully, silently slipped it out and looked inside. He had fifteen dollars, again, all in fives and ones.

Curiosity wore through me and I snooped through it a bit. He had a driver's license (which confirmed he was barely eighteen years old), of few coupons –none of which would be useful today, even if they weren't expired— and a note with handwriting I couldn't decipher. I looked back to Phil and pushed his hair out of his face.

Now it would come down to whether or not I was willing to take what little money Phil had to go get medicine, which would ultimately work out for him. I had to guess that this fifteen dollars was last night's earnings –all nine hours' worth. But Dane kept them fed, and living at the motel, so I had to figure that this money wouldn't be needed for any necessities. And if he was going to go work tonight, he needed to be well again. And the best chance of Phil feeling better by tonight was to not leave it to his immune system, and let chemicals do their magic.

But he had worked hard to earn what he had. He'd done some unsavory things for this money and I felt dirty just holding the bills in my fingers. And after a long moral debate in my head, I decided I couldn't just take it, whatever the rationale.

I tucked the wallet back where I found it and reached out to nudge his shoulder. He didn't budge at first, which was only more worrying, so I tried again. He groaned and his eyes slipped open slowly. The pale blue was gazed over as he stared up at me. "Huh? Dan?"

I gave him a smile to keep the mood light. "Hey, sleeping beauty, how are you feeling?" I sounded like I was talking to a small child; I should be better at this after years of very directly dealing with sick people.

He grunted what I guess was supposed to be a negative response, and buried himself deeper into the blanket. "Is it just you here?" he croaked.

"Yeah, just the two of us. Dane went out and the girls have gone out for the day, probably so they wouldn't run the risk of waking you up." I sat beside him and stroked his hair back. "You're burning up. Were you feeling sick last night?"

"A little, I guess. Tired and achy, but I figured it was the long night…"

I nodded, understanding. "Are you feeling nauseous or anything?"

"Mm… Not really, I guess. Not like I'm gonna vomit. My stomach hurts, though." He curled in on himself a bit, as if talking about it was making it worse.

I sighed, needing to address what I'd woken him up to ask about. "If you want I can go get you some medicine, and maybe something to cheer you up. I don't have any money, though."

"Use mine," he groaned, and turned over to probably fall back asleep. I smiled softly and took the money, and headed out to find a store somewhere.

I found a shifty little corner store about a mile away, bought some off-brand fever reducer and painkillers, a bottle of juice, and two chocolate bars. It used up all fifteen dollars except for a nickel and two pennies, which I stuck in my pocket.

On the walk back I passed a small thrift store with a display of men's coats in the window. A black one with a fur-lined hood caught my eye. I knew Phil needed a proper coat, as the cold weather started to really set in, and that one would look really good on him.

I checked the price tag: twenty dollars. I didn't know how, but I was going to earn twenty dollars, and buy him that coat before winter.

"Daddy, I think he's too sick to work tonight."

The medicine didn't work, and Phil was only feeling worse by the time they were all about to go for the night. Dane was pacing back and forth in front of the bed Phil was still lying in, awake but lethargic. "Is that right?" the man asked sharply. "You're too sick to work tonight?"

"Technically," Phil coughed out. "Ideally I shouldn't go tonight, but I can."

"No, no. Can't have you getting your johns sick, can we?" Dane smirked and stroked a finger down Phil cheek. I had to keep the bile down. "Well, you'll owe me what you could've earned me tonight. You'll get paid again in a few weeks, once you've paid off your debt, okay, Kitten?" His voice was too gentle for what he was saying. Everything about this man and how he treated my friend made me sick.

Dane reached for the wallet under Phil's pillow, and found it devoid of cash. He turned his angry eyes to the sick teen. "The fuck did you do with your money?"

I had to pipe in. "I-I bought him some medicine…"

Dane turned to me, smirking and eyes fiery with anger. "You're so much more trouble than you're worth." He grabbed me by the back of my shirt and dragged me to the door. Phil yelled out in protest, only to quickly fall into a coughing fit. I was shoved out, colliding against the railing and knowing my ribs may be bruised. I heard some commotion inside, and some indistinct shouting and swearing, and then silence.

I hid before the door opened again, and Dane exited, the girls filing out behind him. Once I was sure they were gone for the night, I snuck back in through the open doorway. I closed it behind me, shutting out the cold.

Phil was sitting up in bed, one side of his face substantially redder than the other fervid cheek. I sighed, wincing, and headed over to sit down next to him. We had at least a few hours to ourselves.