Chapter 14

That night, back in her apartment, secure behind new locks, Dusty took out her new iPad and made her long overdue call to Ashley on the other side of America.

"And where exactly have you been?" Ashley demanded in greeting as she appeared on the screen, sitting inside her father's mansion at the kitchen table, surrounded by papers and folders.

"Are you actually working?" Dusty asked, surprised. She was more used to seeing Ashley lounging by the pool or having a manicure when she called.

"Yes, I'm working. Don't sound so shocked." Ashley laughed. Then the conversation became more serious when Dusty explained about being mugged and losing her Chanel bag. Talking about the incident brought an onset of delayed emotion, and she was weeping, wishing her friend wasn't thousands of miles away but right beside her so she could hug her and reassure her that everything would be fine.

"Oh my God, Dusty, I'm so sorry," Ashley told her, looking distressed by the news.

"I'm sorry I let him take the bag." Dusty sobbed.

"Don't be ridiculous. The most important thing is that you're okay. Besides, you'll soon be doing well enough to buy yourself a new one."

"Mmm," Dusty mumbled uncertainly, wiping her eyes.

"Seriously, though, are you okay?" Ashley asked, looking into the small camera with concern.

"Yeah, I think so." Dusty nodded.

"Like, did it bring up stuff about your dad?"

"A bit." Dusty shrugged. "But I'm trying not to dwell on it, to focus instead on the future."

"That's good. Speaking of the future, you should know that I'm kind of dating Ricardo."

"Italian Ricardo?" Dusty asked.

"Yeah." Ashley blushed. "We're just talking online, but it's getting serious. He's saving to come over."

"Waiter Ricardo?" Dusty continued.

"Don't start." Ashley smiled. "Just because you were mugged at gunpoint does not mean you get to tease me."

"I thought he wasn't anything serious, not boyfriend material," Dusty continued, laughing.

"Oi!"

"What changed your mind? Is he some sort of Italian stallion?"

Ashley turned even brighter red, and both girls erupted into fits of laughter. It was exactly the sort of distraction and release Dusty needed after such a stressful few days in the city.

****

Over the next few weeks Dusty began to seamlessly integrate into city life. She no longer walked around listening to music. Instead she kept her focus clear. Her valuables were nestled within a plain brown satchel, which she kept clutched tightly to her side at all times. Her iPhone and keys were housed in her pocket, always remaining on her person. Dusty was determined to never again be caught out by a thief. She considered going to a self-defense class too.

"You totally do that," Dust encouraged one night during a phone call. Since she had been robbed, he had taken to calling her once a week to check on how she was doing, which given how busy he was with his own college life, she really appreciated. "Loads of girls here have learnt self-defense," he continued. "I think it would be useful to know, especially since you walk around on your own a lot."

"I don't know," Dusty answered with uncertainty. The thought of hurling a man over her shoulder didn't sound appealing, nor did the prospect of being charged with assault if things went too far. She was sitting in her small apartment having a Skype call with Dust. He was in his dorm room, which looked completely chaotic.

The floor was barely visible beneath the carpet of clothes strewn about. On the walls there were posters of scantily clad girls and bands Dusty had never heard of. Throughout their conversation some of his friends would filter in, always brandishing a beer, and they would look over his shoulder at Dusty sitting in her apartment and make some lewd comment.

"Hey, that's my sister," Dust would always roar defensively. He was growing into a man, becoming her protector. She no longer felt that she had to look after him. The tables had been turned, and now he was checking in on her, making sure she was okay.

"I did buy a new rape alarm," Dusty told him when the dorm room had quieted down.

"Good idea." Dust nodded in approval, making Dusty notice how his movements were slightly slow and drawn out. He was already drunk.

"You going out tonight?"

"Probably." Dust shrugged, but given he was wearing one of his favorite polo shirts and cargo pants, Dusty was fairly certain that he would be off once their call had concluded.

"Well, have fun." Dusty smiled. She wanted to warn him to behave, to not drink too much, to be respectful to girls, but she liked their new dynamic, where she was the one being looked after.

"I'll call you next week, yeah?" Dust's drunken haze fell away briefly to reveal his concerned face.

"I look forward to it." Dusty smiled. As she and Dust grew older, they were becoming closer, learning to tolerate one another's differences. Being out of the trailer was a big help too. It was much easier to get along with someone when you weren't literally living on top of them.

Dusty signed off the call, and the screen went blank. Dust was gone, eagerly heading out to some fraternity party, and Dusty felt a hollow sadness within her. She missed her own carefree partying days. What saddened her was that she knew she could never get them back.

Time had marched on in its inevitable surge forward, forcing her into adulthood, pulling her away from the fun frivolity of college. She thought of Dust off having fun, and she envied him and hoped he knew how precious the next few years would be.