After being attacked, professional call girl Raya and her sister Lana become a little less human. Though one sees this as a gift and an enhancement toward professional improvement, the other sees this as a curse.
On top of that, they're being toyed...
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The sisters abandoned the blood-soaked ladies room, cleaned up as best they were able in the men's room, then Lana found her clothes in front of the hotdog stand and donned them. She gave a brief gaze of longing at the rotating weenies, but Raya nudged her and reminded her, "Remember last time?"
She did. Very well. They were sick all night. Not that every gas station's hotdogs were...well, gross, but they didn't want to chance it.
Raya groaned at the state of her outfit, one of the rare things she owned that she could feel comfortable in instead of feeling poured into. At this rate, she was blowing through clothes like nobody's business, and if it kept up, it would hit her where it counts: her bank account. Her savings were already being broken into, and she wasn't sure what she was going to do as far as work at this point.
She wasn't ready to retire yet; she was still legit arm candy, guys would continue to pay for her companionship, but she needed a manager. Since her boss was dead, the call girl gig seemed to be finished...unless she could find another employer.
Shoving away her financial worries, Raya changed while Lana put the gas in the car. She tossed the red-tinged jeans and the blood-splattered baby doll tee in a plastic thank you bag she found in her trunk.
Thank you for bleeding on my shit, she thought bitterly. It would come out, so help her. Peroxide would work wonders on bloody clothes, nearly every girl who's ever had a surprise monthly visitor can tell you that.
They were almost in the car before Raya squealed, "Lana, wait!"
Lana startled. "Again? stop doing that. You make my heart sink to the pit of my stomach. My nerves are already so tore up, I feel like I'm going to have diarrhea for a week!" She tried not to think of the bone shards that still may be floating around in her intestines, or how much that might hurt coming out.
"Your nerves? I feel like I just narrowly escaped certain death...oh yeah, I did." She sneered. "Ugh, forget that. We don't have time for sibling rivalry of who's most screwed up by the situation. We need to find the security recording."
"Shit, you're right. It probably caught me shifting."
It wasn't difficult to find the office, nor to enter it. Lana clicked away on the computer inside, Raya tossing around suggestions until they'd managed to delete the night's videos - that did, in fact, show Lana stalking through in mid-change - and stop them from recording.
Lana wiped down everything they touched in the office. Out in the rest of the store, there'd be tons of fingerprints, but inside the office, they'd pay too much notice to any prints not belonging to employees.
On the down side, they'd deleted the video of what happened to the real Carl. On the up side, it was much too late for Mr. Creep'o to go to jail anyway, seeing as how he was sort of dead. Still on the up side, there was no proof they were there that night.
Raya reach behind the counter and snatched a pack of Marlboro Milds, tossing a five down on the register like a Good Samaritan. Lana glared at her with that 'mom' look.
