Raquelle had no idea how much of her soul she would have to sell to solve the mystery of her papa’s death. She coiled up in the corner, avoiding the sharp edges of the cracked vinyl seats that could snag her custom-tailored dress. The cab smelled of stale cigarettes combined with someone’s last-night backseat romp. Her nerves were on edge and thoughts were scattered. Had she thought far enough ahead, she would have ordered a car and avoided the dirty, uncomfortable ride. But cabbies navigated New York City like NASCAR drivers. Trapped at the mercy of the driver, she was determined to be punctual for an appointment in lower Manhattan’s financial district.
Survivin
g in the steel jungle required strength and was challenging but not impossible. Only the tough stuff survived in this brutal, unforgiving city. Compromises and sacrifices were necessary to seek out the true identity behind the mask everyone wore. Raquelle’s body had served as a negotiating tool, of sorts, to get what she wanted out of life. Sometimes that meant allowing another faceless man to use her. Used was such a harsh word. Who was she kidding? She enjoyed most of them, just not all of them. From an early age, she understood how men viewed her and how to make it work to her advantage. But this time, she wouldn’t cave to her sexual appetite. She needed this commission to be strictly by the book, no sex on the side.
The cold spring rain coming down in sheets served as an appropriate backdrop to the memories of her dark childhood. A shiver ran under her skin, assaulted by the black-and-white film of memories of the first set of hands to handle her innocence, the end result lacking any compassion. She hugged her coat, wishing she had had the courage to change things, to say no, instead of giving into her cravings. Weak and stupid were her excuses then but never again. Her experiences had turned her into a fighter. Dread crept through her veins as she thought about where she was headed in this maze of clogged traffic.
Excerpt
Raquelle had no idea how much of her soul she would have to sell to solve the mystery of her papa’s death. She coiled up in the corner, avoiding the sharp edges of the cracked vinyl seats that could snag her custom tailored dress. The cab smelled of stale cigarettes combined with someone’s last-night backseat romp. Her nerves were on edge and thoughts were scattered. Had she thought far enough ahead, she would have ordered a car and avoided the dirty, uncomfortable ride. But cabbies navigated New York City like NASCAR drivers. Trapped at the mercy of the driver, she was determined to be punctual for an appointment in lower Manhattan’s financial district.
Surviving in the steel jungle required strength and was challenging but not impossible. Only the tough stuff survived in this brutal, unforgiving city. Compromises and sacrifices were necessary to seek out the true identity behind the mask everyone wore. Raquelle’s body had served as a negotiating tool, of sorts, to get what she wanted out of life. Sometimes that meant allowing another faceless man to use her. Used was such a harsh word. Who was she kidding? She enjoyed most of them, just not all of them. From an early age, she understood how men viewed her and how to make it work to her advantage. But this time, she wouldn’t cave to her sexual appetite. She needed this commission to be strictly by the book, no sex on the side.
The cold spring rain coming down in sheets served as an appropriate backdrop to the memories of her dark childhood. A shiver ran under her skin, assaulted by the black-and-white film of memories of the first set of hands to handle her innocence, the end result lacking any compassion. She hugged her coat, wishing she had had the courage to change things, to say no, instead of giving into her cravings. Weak and stupid were her excuses then but never again. Her experiences had turned her into a fighter. Dread crept through her veins as she thought about where she was headed in this maze of clogged traffic.
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