“Well, it’s either that or end up with a target on your back for a gun instead of me just pesterin’ ya all the time,” Sam replied flatly, feeling his heart in his stomach. The thought of someone hurting her made him feel…it was complicated, hard to explain. It just wasn’t good. “Besides, in most ways we do own these streets. That’s the reason you shouldn’t be selling here.” He was doing his best to be professional, but he could feel the sick feeling crawling up into his mouth and making him salivate like he was about to throw up. God, wouldn’t that just be perfect. Of course, maybe that would be what it took to get her to go away for good, even if that thought of Sally being gone entirely made the man feel a whole other kind of sick. He looked down at her, finally allowing his expression to soften. “Look, I know this isn’t…this isn’t…it sucks, I know, but there’s nothing I can do. I don’t want you to get hurt, and I don’t want my boss mad…” His voice trailed off, and he realized that he had reached out his hand. He felt embarrassed and didn’t even know what he was expecting the gesture to get him, so he pulled his hand back. “This isn’t worth dying over. I swear it ain’t.”
But I like it when you pester me, Sally wanted to say. All day and night she was forced to deal with junkies that were even worse than her — wastes of human life who would never not try to fool her and get stuff for free; but he was different… kind even, a true gentleman. Though the thought of being shot by some macho man trying to prove he was boss didn’t seem appealing ( not at all ), the blonde wasn’t looking forward to being left without a job either —— what a big problem she had put herself into. The cigarette between her fingers had been smoked to nothing but a smelly stub, which she discarded with a quick flick of her hand before letting her glance meet Sam’s, head tilted back for he was much taller than her. “No, forget it… That boss of yours can go fuck himself for all I care — I ain’t going anywhere.” Sally wanted to say more, she wanted to make herself clear beyond doubt and then watch him as he walked away empty handed, back to wherever it was he belonged to. She would have, if the sudden movement of his hand hadn’t taken her by surprise… The junkie’s first instinct was to take a cautious step back ( what if he tried choking her to death? ), put herself at a safe distance though he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would attack a defenseless little thing. “Why don’t you tell him I said that? Do it — then take a picture of his fugly face and bring it to me… goodness knows I could use a good laugh.”