Still Friday evening, a chance meeting
Justine had been wandering through the halls of the apartment complex. She was dumbfounded. Someone had come in and stolen her money - the money that she had earned after sleeping with August and the pizza delivery man Phil. The money she had prostituted herself for. She was angry. She remembered locking the door, but it was unlocked when she came out. She might have forgotten - but she didn't think so.
Now, a new puzzle was rummaging through her head. How many people actually lived in this place? It had been almost a week now, and she had only crossed paths with Pinky. Sometimes, she heard noises from some of the other apartments, but there was never anyone else in the corridors. She couldn't simply go about knocking on doors, asking if people had stolen her funds. Neither could she go back to August and tell him, at least, that was how she felt. Therefore, she was now stuck in a loop.
Her wandering took her down to the main floor, where she sat down and considered her recent choices. In hindsight, it didn't seem like a good idea, but what other option did she have? Even without the money, she still had a place to live, but nothing to buy food with - or treat her daughter to new clothes.
A taxi stopped in front of the building. As Justine lifted her gaze, she recognized Pinky, all dressed up, short dress, knee-high socks, her hair curled up in a knot over her head, wearing a see-through pink shirt under which she had a black bra on. As the taxi drove away, Pinky stepped up and smiled at Justine. She immediately noticed her sour mood.
"Are you okay?"
"...no."
"What's wrong?"
It was obvious to Justine it wasn't Pinky who had taken her money, so she told her everything.
"You poor thing... come on, come with me."
"Where?"
"To my place."
"Why?"
"So we can talk about it... see what your options are."
"Ok."
Justine followed Pinky to her apartment, hoping the more experienced girl would provide her with some insight on how to get herself free from her predicament. If the worst came, she would at least have a shoulder to cry on.
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