Daddy's Girl

Chapter 4 - Mixed Signals

The new phone he'd given me had been sitting face down on my desk for five days collecting dust. I refused to go anywhere near it. Let alone use the damn thing. I tried to ignore it entirely but I could feel it's presence like a ghost lurking in the corner of my room. His ghost. The whoremonger. At night it almost felt like he was watching me sleep. Waiting for me to let my guard down. It started to haunt me in my dreams and I woke with a start when I thought I heard it ringing. Of course, it hadn't. Surely it was dead by then.

On the sixth day, I stood by my open window, clutching a cigarette and occasionally pacing the cramped space of my apartment. I thought about that day in the back of his Escalade. When Negan ridiculed me and had the nerve to ask me to be one of his whores. Looking back I don't know why it surprised me. Of course, he was as seedy as the rest of him. Worse, even. He had everything in his favor. Charisma, money, good looks... I should have known. The night of the dinner party. The night I met him. Every bone in my body told me to keep my distance. My gut was trying to tell me to run in the other direction.

Even in the safety of my room, where my head was clear of his persuasion, I knew better than to entertain his antics but I was furious. My mind was still ranting. How dare he claim to know anything about me! How dare he call me 'meek' and 'scared shitless'! How dare he assume he could waltz into my life and ask anything of me! Fuck him! My anger drove me to snatch up the phone. I plugged it into my wall charger and impatiently tapped my foot as I waited for it to come back to life. I didn't fear it anymore and I refused to fear him.

When the screen lit up I opened the contacts. It had one number. One name. 'Negan'. I grimaced in disgust and changed it to 'ASSHOLE' for my own small victory. Then I stood motionless staring at the screen. The hotline to hell was right there at my fingertips. A faint voice in my head was shouting for me to throw the phone out the window and never look back. After ignoring my instincts the first time, I should have learned my lesson. That should have been enough to stop me but it didn't. If I wanted to burn him back I had to play with fire. Still, despite all my courage, I couldn't bring myself to listen to his deep, vibrating voice just yet. So I sent him a text instead. It was so simple but I must have typed it a hundred times.

'I want to talk. In person.' My heart pounded in my ears as I pressed send.

I stood staring at the screen for several moments expecting an immediate response but it didn't come. When my heart slowed I scoffed and rolled my eyes as I tossed the phone aside. He must have his hands full. What with all the ass grabbing and money counting. For the next few minutes I lingered by the phone but still, there was nothing. In an attempt to busy myself I began cleaning and reorganizing my apartment for what felt like the dozenth time that week. It's not like I had anything better to do since the asshole had cost me both of my jobs.

By the time the sun began to set I was becoming restless. Why wasn't this prick answering me? Had he changed his mind? Did this sort of offer have a time limit? Had my window closed? Why did I even fucking care? I should be thanking the heavens he hadn't answered. I was about ready to back out and smash the damn phone to pieces when suddenly, at six o'clock sharp, I heard a chime. My blood went cold for a moment. I approached it cautiously like he would leap out of the screen at any moment. I snatched it from my desk and took a deep breath before willing myself to check it.

"I knew you'd miss me." It read.

I couldn't have rolled my eyes any harder, "When/where?"

"Tonight at midnight. Meet me at my hotel." He responded and I snorted thinking he must have been out of his mind.

"No," I said as firmly as a text message would allow. "I don't want to be anywhere alone with you."