Orange

Thirteen

I had just finished with one of my buyers when a loud BANG interrupted my walk. I spun around, realizing that it sounded frighteningly close. A few girls spun around, as well, staring down at Room 71. The rooms are relatively soundproof, so the fact that we could hear something from within the walls was definitely something to worry about. We all froze in our steps, waiting with breaths held.

After a few minutes, one of the managers walked through our little crowd, pushing past us.

That was Marvin. Marvin was not conventionally attractive. At least not to us. But he had a soul-mark, and he had a wife with a handful of children. He shoved his way through, giving the door a good knock before fumbling for his keys.

Suddenly the door shot open.

An older man stepped out, covered in sweat and frustration; his long dirty blond hair was pulled up into a high man-bun, and he had his thick leather jacket strung across his shoulders. He was definitely a big guy, bigger than my usual cliental, at least. He frowned down at Marvin.

"What'd'you want, pal?" he growled, making himself seem even bigger.

Marvin didn't budge.

"You need to leave," he said in a firm voice. "You're disrupting my business and roughing up my product. How are my girls supposed to work when guys like you keep fucking 'em up?"

A few of us looked around at each other. I kept my eyes focused on the situation at hand. It wasn't like I was able to move; my legs were frozen solid.

"This is a Warehouse, ain't it?" the man smirked, opening his arms in gesture of the area. "What the fuck else am I s'posed to do here?"

The distant sounds of sobs wobbled in from inside the room, and I instantly recognized the voice. Laura?

"Either you get out now, or I call the police. Pick your poison, tough guy."

The man frowned, leaning in with gritted teeth. The staring contest between the two was pretty intense; the big guy just kept moving, leaning from side to side, trying to make himself look even more intimidating despite the fact that he was a big and burly guy who was at least six foot two. On the other side stood Marvin, a simple man in a shirt and tie, arms down by his sides with his round belly slagging down. He stood completely still, unmoving yet confidently standing his ground. There was a weird power that Marvin seemed to have that gave him an advantage, and all the Blanks at Warehouse 44 knew it; he had one hell of a death stare.

Finally, the bigger man clicked his tongue, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Whatever," he spat out, glaring all us girls down. "Not like I've got time for cheap whores like you, anyway."

With that lovely compliment, he stormed out, disappearing down the halls. Almost immediately, several girls broke out into worried conversation, eyes wide with fear, before Marvin shushed us gently.

"Easy now, girls," he spoke in affectionate tones. Marvin really knew how to talk to a lady. "I know you're all a bit rattled out by that, but don't worry. We'll up our security so that he doesn't show up again. Now, let's get back to having a good day and I'll go talk to little Laura—sound fair?"

We all silently agreed. Despite looking like a creeper, Marvin really was a good guy. He loved his wife dearly, and he loved his kids. And, above all, he legitimately cared about us. There was never a day he wouldn't sneak a dad joke into one of our conversations or give a few kind words of advice to someone who needed it. And he wasn't just a gentleman to the girls, either—Marvin was apparently pretty close to the guys, too. Every one of us at Warehouse 44 loved him.