Chapter 58

Highlander cruised around Fifth Avenue twice but never saw Xiaer or Luola.

"Should've asked for their phone number," Roger muttered.

But back then, that intoxicating atmosphere—he felt if he spoke one more word, those two women would devour him whole.

With no choice, he kept driving slowly along the street.

And just then, he suddenly spotted Xiaer at the corner.

Today, the girl wore a black bra underneath, lifting her rounded chest; over it, a black sheer blouse, and on her legs, denim hot pants paired with sexy fishnet stockings and red-heeled shoes.

A classic street outfit.

Roger was about to drive over when he noticed two men trailing behind Xiaer.

The three seemed to be arguing—Xiaer kept shouting excitedly, then flipped them off.

But the two men remained cold, indifferent to the insults, merely following step by step.

Roger raised an eyebrow and drove straight up to them, honking.

"Beep~~!"

Xiaer turned around and saw Roger winking at her.

She frowned at first, then seemed to understand, turning to the two men: "My client's here—still following me? Fuck you!"

The two men exchanged a glance and stepped back.

Xiaer quickly got in, shut the door with a soft thud, and shoved half a cigarette into her mouth: "Go. Get out of here."

Roger immediately pressed the accelerator and drove off.

In the rearview mirror, the two men kept staring at the direction Highlander had vanished.

Roger glanced over and asked: "What's going on? Why are they following you?"

Xiaer snorted coldly: "These fucking leeches—they're all Madman's men."

"They want you to pay back your debt?"

"That's one reason," Xiaer crossed her legs: "Mainly, I did business with his junior this morning—and snorted some of his stash."

"What? You're insane!" Roger stared in disbelief: "You stole from a gang?"

"How was I supposed to know it was the Madman's?" Xiaer was also annoyed: "I've done this plenty of times—just a little snort. No big deal. But who knew he'd wake up?"

"And then?"

"Then the Madman added it to my debt. Shit! I snorted maybe twenty bucks' worth—he's making me pay five hundred! This fucking vampire! May he rot in hell!"

"Alright." Roger sighed, then asked: "So where's Luola?"

Xiaer took a deep drag: "She went home."

Then she turned to Roger: "What about you? Why'd you suddenly show up? Regret not getting laid yesterday?"

Roger was used to the girl's bluntness: "No, I just happened to pass by."

He pulled over the pizza box and handed it to Xiaer: "Hungry? Eat the pizza."

"Pizza again?" Xiaer eyed the man suspiciously: "You're not using me as a guinea pig, are you?"

"Fuck, can't you shut up while eating?"

"Cold pizza won't shut me up—I need something warmer," Xiaer stared at his crotch.

"Fuck!"

Roger couldn't help but flip her off.

Seeing his reaction, Xiaer laughed: "Don't get mad—I'm just like this. If you stick around long enough, you might even like me."

"You're so self-absorbed."

"Self-absorption's a good habit. If I spent every day whining 'Oh my god' and 'Oh Jesus,' how would I compete with those tall white bitches?"

As she spoke, Xiaer rolled down the window and flipped off a white streetwalker, yelling "Bitch!" back.

"Looks like you've got a lot of enemies here."

"Of course! No enemies means nobody notices you." Xiaer devoured a slice in three bites: "Still, thanks—you probably saved me from going hungry tonight."

"If you can't even afford meals, how much do you owe the Madman?"

"Luola owes eight thousand. I owe five thousand—now five five."

Xiaer licked the grease off her fingers, then shoved another slice into her red lips.

Eating as she spoke: "Find a spot to stop—I'll give you a taste too. Consider it payment for two pizzas."

Roger shook his head rapidly: "I don't have that kind of idea."

"Are you even a man?" Xiaer stared in disbelief: "Or do you have some weird fetish—thinking I'll give you milk?"

"I'll tell you—I've had an abortion, but I really don't have milk…"

"Shut up!" Roger cut her off loudly, stopping the flood of forbidden words.

Xiaer blinked innocently and swallowed the pizza.

"Listen: first, I'm a normal man. Second, I don't eat fast food. Got it?"

"Got it—you've got a fixed cafeteria."

"Well, that's a weird way to put it, but yeah."

Xiaer exhaled: "Good—I thought your trunk was full of whips and candles, planning to play warden and prisoner with me."

"Who's the warden? Who's the prisoner?" Roger asked curiously.

"The warden's obviously me," Xiaer said with a look that said 'you know.' "Every time I whip those pale white asses—God, their waist fat is bigger than the largest inflatable ring. Can you picture it?"

"Don't describe it so vividly—I don't want nightmares full of that."

"Hmm, should I tell you about the eighty-year-old man who dressed as a dog, tail up his ass, crawling over to me whining 'Mommy' and licking my feet?"

"Enough. Stop." Roger couldn't take her verbal assault anymore—he switched topics: "Where are you headed next? I'll drop you off."

Let's go to Luola's place—I'll give her the pizza; good sisters share everything.

Tell me the address.

Ten minutes later, the two arrived at a poor neighborhood.

The houses here were no less dilapidated than those in Xin Yidunweier Shequ, mostly overrun with vines, and the weeds in the yards grew alarmingly tall.

Don't you guys ever pull the weeds here?

Hiring a madman to cut grass is too expensive.

Why hire them? Roger asked, puzzled.

Xiaer explained to the man: "They run a lawn care company and take over all the neighborhood's grass-cutting jobs. If we cut the grass ourselves, we'll face smashed car windows, pets eaten, and lawns destroyed."

These gangsters' business is surprisingly broad.

Of course—they do whatever makes money.

Xiaer, clicking in her high heels, led Roger toward a house with a gray roof.

When they reached the door, she pulled a key from her pocket and opened it.

Luola, are you home?

No one answered.

Only muffled sobs came from inside the house.