Eloy drove near a strip mall in Sherman Oaks and parked on a side street. Then he texted for a ride-share. There was no way he was taking his Jeep to where he was going. While he waited, he went into a sandwich shop and bought several sandwiches, chips, and bottles of soda.
Thirty minutes later, he was being dropped off at an apartment building in Van Nuys that dopers and the homeless had taken over.
A lot of buildings in Los Angeles had gone into foreclosure during the pandemic. Street people descended as soon as the tenants were either kicked out or moved because of the lousy living conditions.
He’d commandeered a unit for his Barely Legal girls after they’d gotten so addicted to drugs that they were too skinny and ravaged to be on his website. After being exiled, they kept showing up at his rental in Glendale, begging to go back to work. He needed somewhere for them to live—far away from him.
That was the downside to bringing new talent into the business. He had to have a place to show them he was successful, and where he could chip away at their inhibitions of getting naked in front of a camera.
They usually lasted about eight months to a year before the drug use got so out of control they were no longer useful to him.
He knew they’d be able to sell their bodies to keep them in drugs…at least until they went elsewhere or OD’d.
This rundown apartment was the perfect spot to meet Neema. The entire street looked like a third world country. Trash was piled in heaps in front of the buildings. Shopping carts lay overturned, and the air smelled of urine, defecation, and lost hope.
Any security cameras in the neighborhood had long ago been stolen and sold.
He congratulated himself on not bringing his Jeep to this hellhole. His wheels would have likely gotten him shanked.
He looked at his watch. He’d just have time to go in and get rid of the website girls before his baby-mama arrived.
As if reading his mind, his phone rang, and it was Neema.
“E, I’m on my way, but I really don’t like this. That part of the Valley is a real dump. People are gettin’ killed over there daily.”
“Baby, it’ll be fine. I picked up some sandwiches. I’ll wait out front for you. How long you gonna be?”
“Fifteen to twenty minutes.”
He grinned. “Perfect. See you in a few.”
After ending the call, he hurried through the entrance to the building. In earlier times, there would have been a security entrance requiring a passcode to enter. The gate had been ripped off, and likely hauled to a recycling center.
On the ground floor, most units had the windows busted out, and the doors were either missing or swung loosely on one hinge.
He reached the second-story apartment where he’d set up his former models. There was no telling what he might walk into—or if they’d even be there.
He tried the doorknob, and the handle turned. Rather than just bursting in, he knocked twice, then entered.
“Sabrina? Isabelle? Are you here?”
A noise came from the kitchen.
“Who’s that?”
He recognized Isabelle’s voice.
“Izzy, it’s me, E. I brought you something.”
The sound of faltering footsteps accompanied the former nude model into the room.
The girl’s face morphed into a smile, revealing a couple missing teeth. “Hi, Eloy. I haven’t seen you in ages.” Her speech had that relaxed sing-song tone that being high often created.
“Hi, Izzy. Where’s Sabrina?”
She shrugged. “I think she went out to find some product.” Her expression hardened. “She’s really messed up. She’s been hitting the skippy hard.”
“I told her the last time I was here, she needed to stay away from Ritalin.”
“I don’t know nothin’ about that. She met some guy who will give her a hit for a BJ.”
He lifted the bag holding the food. “I have something for you guys. Sandwiches, chips, and bottles of soda.”
“Oh, E, thank you! We don’t eat like this too much.”
“So, listen. I have some business to do, and I require a space. Do you think you could go out for about an hour?”
Izzy’s mouth formed a thin line. “Are you bringin’ another girl here?”
“An associate. She won’t be staying.”
“Why do I have to leave?”
“She’s developing a pharmaceutical problem. I wanted to show her what her life will be like if she keeps it up.”
“You mean you’re gonna use me and ‘Brina as a bad example? That’s messed up.”
“I gave you and Sabrina the same warning. You didn’t listen. I brought you right here to this same apartment. When you first started modeling, I showed you so you could understand what happens when you mess with drugs. I don’t want to embarrass or disrespect you or ‘Brina.” He sighed. “That’s why you should find somewhere else to eat your sandwich. This new girl, she doesn’t need to see you.”
“I’ve nowhere to go.”
“What about with Sabrina and her friend?”
“No. He’ll expect me to service him too.”
Eloy glanced at his phone. Neema would be here any minute. “Look. I need you out of here.”
“This is Sabrina’s and my home. You can’t make me leave.”
“Listen. I’m the one paying the rent here. All I need is for you to go somewhere else for an hour.”
It wasn’t true that he was putting out any money for the apartment. He paid Neema’s brother, a guy built like a linebacker, to kick out anyone who tried to take over the space. He came by every couple of days.
“You know, Eloy, I didn’t realize it then, but I had a good life before I met you. Now, I’m strung out, used up, and look twenty years older than I am.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry I got mixed up with you.”
He stared at her, then held out one of the bags he carried. Inside was two sandwiches, two sodas, and two bags of chips.
Wordlessly, she took her bag, and slipped out the door.
“You’re gonna be even more sorry,” he whispered. “Those sandwiches are laced with Fentanyl.”