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Flagging a taxi, I found it hard to focus on anything but the memory of Spike destroying our cute picture; it had been one of my favorites, Spike must have known it would be a hard blow to me. My mind wanders to apology tactics but I snap myself out of it, repeating that I need to be strong now. I'll have to go without Spike's love for a while now.
The driver chuckled suspiciously as the car came to a stop.
"Here we.... heh, heh... are."
"What are you laughing at, gramps?" I snapped back, glaring at him in the rear view mirror.
"Don't mind me," he replied with an odd British accent. "Just a funny little man driving a cab.".
I rushed out, slamming the door hard, trying not to wobble on my large heels. Stepping up a few cracked concrete steps, I came up to a small, lumpy, baby-blue shack. The shadows of letters once nailed above the front door lingered there; if my Japanese was as skillful as Spike always claimed, I assumed it read "Goldfish Load". I hoped I was wrong.
I stepped inside and the humid air and smell of an old birdcage immediately chocked me and my hand flew over my mouth and nose. A woman in an ugly Christmas sweater and torn fishnets was suddenly careening towards me, pushing aside my hands so she could pinch my cheeks.
"Oh baby, you're here," she said, relieved. Her voice sounded like a growling car engine.
"Who are you?" I asked cautiously, pushing her hand away. "The... the woman from last night...?" I tried to morph what I had seen last night to what stood before me.
"Your new pimp," she rasped. "Follow me." I trailed behind her through a round hobbit hole door.
The sign hanging on it said "Amphibian Department" in scraggly letters.
The air was somehow even thicker and more humid than before, and the croaking of frogs echoed off the asylum-white walls of the huge room.
"How is it so big on the inside?" I asked.
"Oh hun," she winked. "You've got a lot to learn." I was lead over to a waiting line, occupied by several frogs. The one in front of me turned around.
"Hey there," she said, straightening her red dress. She was beautiful, I thought enviously. "What's your name?"
"Michae-" I started and stopped, remembering my pimp on the phone. "Mike."
"I'm Michelle. Nice to meet you." She shook my hand and I smiled a bit at the prospect of a new friend. "So what lead you here? I don't think they get many turtles here."
"I just need to do something with myself while I figure out how to fix my situation with... friends. You know, get out of the house, do stuff. The money couldn't hurt, either." She nodded in response and took another step forward in the line.
"You better get used to that question, buddy. Almost every client you'll have thinks this job is some last resort, that you're desperate for a way out." She tapped a pen against her teeth, looking me up and down. "But I think you'll do just fine here." She stepped up again, and I smiled at her back as she filled out some paperwork and hand a picture to the man behind the counter. She turned back and returned my smile. "Catch you later, Mike." She walked off and I watched after her, patting myself on the back for the first day friend-making. You go, Mikey, you go. The man at the counter's sudden shouting jolted me out of my stupor and I stepped up.
"Hi," I said flatly. He glared back.
"Picture?" he asked gruffly. A horrible vision overtook me, the memory of Spiky destroying our photo. I realized I was shrieking and clutching my scarf.
"Oh! Oh!" I gasped.
"You got a picture or not, buddy?"
"No," I squeaked.
"Well just fill out this paper, alright?" I nodded, taking a deep breath. I needed to pull myself together. I looked down at the paper.