The Arrangement (Omegas of Hunter's Point Book 1)

Chapter 7

Von trudged up the stairs listening to the kaleidoscope of tenants that peopled her apartment block. Rounding the first landing, there are the Bartons, arguing again. Shocker. What was it this time? Oh, dinner was cold. Okay. So, the block could expect to be treated to obnoxious makeup sex sometime in the wee hours.

Rounding second, Selah Ryan was telling the world he was incredibly bad at playing the cello. Find middle C, Selah. He was busy butchering some classical piece, all squeals and squeaks.

Rounding third, speaking of squeals and squeaks, Teala in the corner unit was banging some rando. Whatever, as long as they were done by 11pm.

Rounding the fourth-floor landing, Von reached her door...which was unlocked.

Sigh.

"Fancy!" Von called, dragging her bruised body through the door into a dark apartment. "How many times have I told you not to leave the front door unlocked?"

She touched the light switch. She hit the switch again. Well, the rest of the block had power, so that must mean they'd been cut off again. So much for a shower. No power meant no hot water recirculator.

"Hi, Von," Fancy called from the dark. "Ugh! Why do you smell like alpha cum?" She gasped, excitedly. "Oh, have you met someone?"

"No, some dude-bro asshole cornered me in an alley," Von explained, irritably. "He let me go once he figured out that I wasn't worth it, but not before he hit me really hard." That side of her face was already stiff and hot to the touch. It was going to be one hell of a bruise by morning.

"Oh, my gosh!" Fancy exclaimed, much closer. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Von confirmed. "No worse than last time."

"Oh, honey," Fancy's groping hands found Von's arms, "I wish there was someone you could call when this happens. It's not fair."

So did Von. There was no point in even reporting the incident to the authorities. The alpha would never see punishment, assuming the authorities cared enough to even look for the guy. Unfertile omegas had no value. No one else was going to protect her, so it was on her to protect herself in any way she could.

"Hey, so what's with the power being off, Fancy?" Von asked, dying for a change of subject.

"Oh, um..." came the embarrassed reply.

"Did you drink the bill money, again? Who with this time?"

"I kind of overdid it at the club," Fancy admitted, sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Von." Fancy helped her out of her soiled clothes. "I get paid on Friday. I can take care of it then."

That was only a few more days. They'd done without for longer than that before.

"What should I do with your clothes?"

"Burn them," Von said, defeated, laying her forehead down on the table. "Burn all of them."

"Not the skirt! It's designer," Fancy mourned.

"It's a knockoff. You were with me when I bought it."

"Yeah, but it looks just like the real thing," Fancy countered.

"If you can salvage it, Fancy, it's yours."

"Yay!" Fancy hummed her Happy Beta Song, and, without being asked, began heating water on the stovetop for a bath.

Hey, a bright spot! At least there was still heating oil in the stove.

Von kept her head down, listening to the soft hiss of the stove and Fancy's cat's-paw steps, while breathing deeply, in and out, allowing the pleasant green smells of the abundant plant life in the apartment to soothe her. All around the place were ferns, and spider plants, and succulents in pots and baskets. They had a dual purpose: help keep the air quality inside free of the smog that pervaded their level outside, and to calm. The subtle scents of growing things and damp earth worked a magic on her like nothing else. And most of them were pretty hardy, so Fancy couldn't kill them, no matter how often she forgot to water them.