She's honest with him, actually.

“I entertain people,” Glimmer says nonchalantly.

The man nods slowly, a small grin building in the corners of his mouth. “You’re a prostitute.”

She shrugs. “I could think of other classy ways of saying it, but sure. I’m a prostitute.”

“How much?” the man suddenly asks, making Glimmer scoff in rebuke.

“I’m off the clock and not working on the premises.”

“So, it’s free?” The man jeers, his eyes now landing on her chest, despite it being covered, it’s clear he’s already undressed and pictured her piped with his cock. He shifts slightly, spreading his legs before leaning. “I can almost promise you I’m better than any of those geeks that’s paid to be with you.”

Glimmer feels a pinch of annoyance as she glances at the door, wondering if it is possible to get her bunkmate replaced. “I thought the rich were supposed to be classy, not sleezy and tasteless.”

“Rich?” the man nods, fishing out a gold-colored card from his wallet and throwing it at it. “Yeah, want more? That’s a couple of hundred per card. What’s your taste?”

For the first time, she felt the temptation of money to get some kind of independence from Pink Heat, but this wasn’t the way she wanted to get it. She handed it back. “I’m sorry, handsome, I’m really off the clock, and all I can think about is my boyfriend.”

“Is that who you think of while you’re getting used? Your poor cucked boyfriend? Or do you just choose to believe he’s not real while you’re getting your pussy stuffed?”

Glimmer’s hands tighten into a fist. Her stomach did flips, unsure what to say. She hadn’t ever had to defend someone like this before, and now that it felt like she was supposed to, she didn’t know what to say. So, she stood up and slapped him hard across the face. “It figures you have to pay to get a woman to fuck you.”

He stood up next, but it became clear how tall he was and how broad his shoulders were. All of Glimmer’s augmentations had been installed with the intent to seduce and look prettier, while his were clearly ex-military or sport. She felt her heart flutter, expecting the worst. “7 days,” he says. “7 Days bunked with Daddy Ryan.”

“Ryan,” Glimmered sighed. “Let’s calm down. There’s no reason to be like this. If you just stay off my case, I’ll get you a coupon for the club I work at. Just don’t bug me right now. I’m on vacation right now.”

Ryan smirked, his gaze down tightly on her. Reducing her as so many others had. “We’ll see. Maybe we could make our own little sex tape. Show you a real good time.”

She could almost brag that she was out of his range, but when she considered the location, train, and even the way he simply looked, she worried that he could buy her for an evening, even become a regular if he desired. But now, it felt personal, like it wasn’t an attack on just her, but David, too. Questioning everything about him despite knowing nothing.

When she failed to retort, he snickered. “Which club are you working at?”

“It’s Pink Heat,” she murmured.

His eyes widened slightly. “No kidding? Your boyfriend… was he a regular? Must’ve been impressive if you’re going through all this trouble.”

“I’m not talking about him like he was just a slab of dick to get me off,” Glimmer snapped, moving to slap him again, but he caught her this time.

“I know people who operate for this train company. You know what I could do to you right now and get away with?”

“You underestimate Pink Heat if you think they’d let one of their star dancers get hurt.”

“People do every day to hurt little girls like you. Why would this be any different?”

“You haven’t paid yet,” she sneered, hiding all the fear behind blazing eyes and a harsh voice. Ryan laughed hard at her face, though, simply solving the issue of paying a late fee by having his way.

Glimmer scrambled another plot as he shoved her backward, the mattress creaking as she bounced. Ryan’s hands moved to his belt and snapped it. The crack of synthetic leather was loud in the confines of the dorm, but the knocking was more audible from the door.

She glanced at the door and then at Ryan, who sighed and opened the door lazily. He peered through the crack and scoffed. “Who are you?”

“Security,” a woman’s voice said. “Just making sure everyone is getting comfortable now that we’ve reached our coasting speed.”

“Ah, yeah, we’re fine. Just getting comfortable.”

Glimmered swallowed. “I would like to step out if we’re allowed,” Glimmered hadn’t even noticed the train moving. Through the window, she saw the building zipping past in a blur. “I would want to get out now, actually.”

Ryan turned back to face Glimmer. “You don’t have to–”

“Sounds like your bunkmate wants to leave. Why don’t you let her out? This train has many things for a girl to see,” the woman said, a dull edge to her voice that was almost familiar. “This train was recently refitted with a new reading longue. Does she read?”

“Yes!” Glimmer got up and shoved her way out, running into the security woman. She had blonde, messy, shoulder-length hair, bright amber eyes, and her arms were covered in traditional tattoos. It was Two-Stack without the synthetic mask, and despite the ghoulish look of hatred, it was absolutely stunning. Something about her pale complexion marked with dark and red makeup made her seem exotic.

Two-Trick, the real Two-Trick, had dark jeans and a white polo underneath her plate carrier. She held herself as Adam did at the club, a sloppy but purposeful appearance; slung at her side was a wicked little machine gun, the paint battered off and spray-painted over again to cover the scratches, dings, and overall wear. Did she follow her here? Glimmer glanced at the loaded utility belt and saw more vaguely similar stuff that she’d seen on the club’s security. Echoes of Paul, Adam, and even Sevens came ringing somewhere behind her thoughts.

Glimmer shoved her way through, but was ultimately stopped by Two-Stack as she shouted at her. “Wrong way if you’re going to longue.”

Glimmer turned and faced Two-Trick. She tilted her head in the opposite direction, her face a blank canvas of what humans were without smiles or happiness. “It’s this way.”

Two-Trick's true face face was more horrifying than the synthetic mask that tucked her beauty behind false eyes and skin color. Glimmer stole a glance at Two-Tricks knuckles, finding them raw and crimson still from the kill order. “It’s this way,” she repeated, a silent order to go there.

Her options were nonexistent. So, of course, she listened to Two-Tricks request and walked straight to the longue.