Tell her that Kenji is the best choice…And then hope she finds him first

Clova lets out a yawn as you tell her that Kenji would be the best option. You think of a couple of lies to sprinkle into the conversation and then stumble your way through another sentence. Luckily, she’s either too tired or too careless to really question your logic.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’ll see you around. Or not. We could die out there.”

“I hope not,” you say, unsure whether or not you are lying again. “Good luck.”

…

…

With Kenji out of the picture, you find yourself almost doing nothing now that Mikka is free to pester Sachio with practically no stops. It’s difficult to say what happens between them, but you notice a steady income of hundreds of dollars every couple of days. However, despite you not asking questions, you know Scarlet is poking around and will eventually give an update…

A whole week goes by. You run into Sachio and notice she’s different now. She looks the same, but something is missing. You can’t help but notice she’s become something of an outcast to her Japanese companions. Akiko, the supposed black sheep of the dance studio, is seen much more often with the others than Sachio.

Sachio also looks at you with less innocence. Previously, she seemed lost, confused, and desperate. Now she talks fluidly and without pause. She doesn’t ask any questions and even tries to keep a conversation going.

Mikka is almost seen talking to someone, even during your shifts and rotations. Usually, you can see a hidden exchange of money with a few dirty smirks. This influx of money doesn’t keep your curiosity down, so you do end up trying to find out what his business entails. Despite leaning on you to kick start his operation, Mikka shies from the subject and tells you not to worry about it.

You try asking Sachio, but she just gives a robotic laugh and waves you away. Her cheeks usually flare to a shade of scarlet. More confusing to you is that she never asks about Kenji or his whereabouts. You wouldn’t have had answers, but you thought she would have asked about him still.

After dinner and another lackluster meeting at the end of Sunday, you’re in your room reclining and drifting off to sleep when someone comes to visit you.

You look at your watch and suspect it’s Sasha trying to pay off her blackmail debt. It had been a few days since you’d last fucked the broad, and you figured a quickie wouldn’t be such a bad way to pass the night.

You open the door and see Scarlet clad in black clothing instead. She has her hair down and her pistol on her hip.

Scarlet pushes the door open and tells you to close it. She finds a seat near the window and sighs. She hasn’t looked at you, but your eyes train to sidearm like it’s a lit fuze to a stick of dynamite.

“What’s the matter?” You ask.

“I’ve been working on the job you gave me,” she says, still not looking at you. “And I found stumbled over something that could blow the lid off of this entire company.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you aware how deep of shit this could get you in?” Scarlet finally looks at you. There’s blatant anger in her eyes. “Do you know what they’ve been doing to one of the girls?”

“No,” you say, sitting in front of her. “What did you find out.”

“More than I intended,” she glares at you. “You got Sachio drunk and let Mikka fuck her? In front of Kenji?”

“It went further than I thought it would, but…”

“Kenji would kill you if he found out. He’d kill Mikka, Zuprik, and then himself,” Scarlet lower lips quivered. “How could you let this happen, Warren? Sachio is just a kid. And you’re taking away her protection and letting HER GET FUCKED?”

“The money is really good,” you swallowed and then slid the last letter Mikka gave you. It was full of money, probably a full G. “Just keep quiet about it—“

“Nononono!” Scarlet finally snapped and shot her finger at you. “Don’t you dare say shit! That isn’t fair to any of us!”

She sat across from you and glared. The handgun in her hand was now cocked and directed at you. There was a fair chance she’d miss since she wasn’t actually aiming, but you didn’t want to take the opportunity.

“What am I supposed to do with you now?” Her finger left the trigger and started to ride the slide. Her blue eyes traced over your face and suit and then the money you tried to bribe her with. “I oughtta kill you. After saving me when I was…”

She trails off. The anger smoldered in her stomach until tears started to swell in her eyes. “Take your money and fuck off with that offer? I feel sick. Sachio is getting high and fucked twice or more a day. She’s so doped up when they’re using her that she hardly makes a noise, and sometimes she takes it like a rag doll.”

“So,” you begin to speak when she’s lowered her gun. “Have they mentioned my name or…?”

She shakes her head. “Just Mikka. He was telling someone the story of how he got a hold of Sachio— how fucking simple and easy it was to use you.”

“Who was it?”

Another head shake. “Some ugly asshole that got his cock sucked by you-know-who…”

“What are you going to do?”

Scarlet stands up and holsters her pistol. “I don’t know. What you’re doing is so fucked up I ought to kill you, but I feel like I owe you somehow. I would still be getting used by those bandits if you didn’t help McKinley get me out.”

She thinks and then continues. “Then, at the same time, you’re doing something I can’t tolerate.”

Scarlet says nothing more. She leaves you without your money. You rub your temples. You got rid of Kenji, but now you’ve replaced him with Scarlet, who knows everything plus a bit more. You’ll have to focus on her now, whatever that entails… in the meantime, you get up and fish out a bottle of Old Forester bourbon from your mini refrigerator and pour yourself a glass. That was tomorrow's problem; in the meantime, you were going to unwind and get some desired rest. A few hours pass, and you’re alone with a slight buzz behind your head. You sniff and stow the bottle away, it's a lot lighter now, but you figure you can sleep off the effects of your intake of alcohol until you hear someone else knocking on o your door.

“Hold on, Sasha,” you mumble as you piss in the toilet. Then, you open the door and are surprised to see it’s Sachio.

You swallow, noticing she’s wearing a large overcoat.

“Sachio?” You say, wondering if you’re drunker than you thought. “Get in here! What are you doing?!”

You yank her inside and close the door. You fumble with the lock as you try to get a hold of your mind. When you turn around, you see her standing at the foot of your bed in nothing but her underwear and the coat on the floor.

She blushes and adverts her eyes. She holds her hands together as she stammers something you don’t hear. Despite looking more...adult, she’s as bashful as the first time you spoke to her.

Finally, after a few seconds of silence, you finally ask what in the world she was doing in your room, dressed like that, nonetheless. She stammers again. “I was told to come here to give you two options...from Mikka.”

You blush now too. You didn’t very much like seeing Sachio like that. Knowing she was a close friend of Akiko just made this weirder. “What are the options you’re giving me?”

“Your reward for helping Mikka. Do you want money or…” she rolls her index finger along her bra strap. “Me?”

Her shoulders are pink as they lose the concealment of the bra strap slides off. Again, your face flares up. You jump and go over to her, grabbing her shoulders.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing, Sachio?!”

“Doing what I’m told…?”

You bring your hand to your mouth and cover it. “But...do you...want…”

You trail off. You’re getting an eye full of her now. And she smelled wonderful. Years of pampering and living in Japan have treated her exceptionally well. You could only hope to see Akiko like this. Having Sachio open herself up to you is insanely tempting. You’ve never really looked at her with any kind of intimate intent. Now that seems like an impossible gesture. She looked up, biting her lip, clearly not expecting your conflict.

You shake her again and then push her back. She’s high and probably doesn’t know what is going on. “Christ, Sachio. What are you doing?”

She sucks on her lips. “I don’t know— I just— I know men like this, and you would have been—“

“Shut up,” you grumble, getting an eye full of her. A girl no older than 21 was standing before you—Perky and sweet, used and doped. You wipe your hands on your face. “Fuck.”

She blinks and closes her thighs. “Don’t you think I look good?”