Peaches

Two

Within a weeks time, Chris was moved in and fully unpacked. He didn't have much but it seemed like his stuff was everywhere. The house had only two bedrooms, occupied by me and my mother, so Chris' bedroom was my living room. He didn't mind, claiming he slept on couches most of his life anyway. Let's just say that I wasn't too fond of the whole setup.

I found that he was quite truthful when it came to him being loud. The majority of the time, he was playing his guitar or drinking alone in the living room watching tv shows that made him howl with laughter. As I've been observing his behavior, it's becoming more apparent that he has a drinking problem.

Returning home from work just last night, I found him lying face first in the garage, with a shattered bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey laying next to him.

To each his own, I guess.

I sat in my bedroom, wrapped up in my plush comforter, staring at the still unopened letter on my dresser. At this point, it wasn't because I was scared of its content, but because I simply didn't have the time or energy to open it.

I popped the cork off of my wine bottle and took a few generous gulps, hardly even able to savor the taste. With liquid courage, I scooted myself off of the bed and moved over to the letter. I steadied my shallow breathing and hastily tore the envelope open to reveal the typed out letter that spanned the entire page.

"Ambriella,

From the moment you became mine, I knew you were a talented girl and a wonderful asset. You've done an exceptional job running one of my largest businesses and for that I am proud. It is safe to say that if your performance is consistent, and carefully maintained you will be closer to living out your dreams.

Now, in the meantime, I would like to take the opportunity to remind you that you have two more weeks remaining in the month. Meaning you have two weeks to make your payment to me, darling. It's imperative to your future to fulfill your sworn promise in repaying your debts. Consequences will be immediate if this promise is broken, but this you already know.

I will be returning to the city to observe your performance by the end of the month. I'm sure it will be a lovely show. You have a way about you that is delightfully enticing, it's undeniable that you can entertain any crowd. You can capture all audiences and steal the show of any girl you're employed with. That being said, if I receive the payment I will continue your lessons as a ballerina-as promised.

I look forward to seeing what you have prepared for my visit, my lovely star. As I've always said, you're going to make me a lot of money.

-Daddy"

Chuckling to myself, I dropped the letter back on the dresser and tipped my bottle back to let the bittersweet liquid drain down my throat. It was easy to ignore the tears in my eyes and the fear boiling deep in my stomach when I had a strong red warming me up inside.

My bedroom door flew open and in the doorway stood Chris, looking grungy and disheveled. "Where's the fucking remote? Oh, you're drinking too?" His eyes fell to the letter, curiosity sparking over his face. "What's that?"

"Nothing." I crumpled it up and stuffed it into my dresser drawer. "It's just," I paused, feeling my anxiety starting to take over. "Do you have a thousand dollars?"

He scoffed, placing a hand over his chest as if I had just rammed a brick into him. "Well god damn woman, you gonna let me fuck you first before you start askin' for shit like that?"

Oh god.

"Absolutely not. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. God, I'm so sorry." I rubbed my eyes to relieve my growing headache.