Текст книги "Aurora James"
Автор книги: Jessica Ingro
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Ruth was waiting for me when I got home from Pussy Willows. Avoiding her judgmental gaze, I gave her a slight wave and walked down the hall of my apartment, muttering, “Not now.”
Following the sound of giggles, I found Sophie playing with Mikey on the floor of her room. My feet took me straight to her, and my arms pulled her into me and wrapped her up tight. I breathed in the scent of little girl and strawberries, feeling the clean wash over me.
All I needed was Sophie.
The rest I’d figure out later. As long as she had everything she needed, I would make do.
Finally letting her go when she started squirming, I left the children to their dolls and headed to my room. I couldn’t shed my altered persona fast enough. The black dress ended up in a heap on the floor, and pins flew across my dresser as I hastily took them out of my hair.
Throwing on a robe, I padded into the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower as hot as I could take it. The room immediately filled with steam, and when I stepped under the spray, the heat from the water pelted my skin. It was a welcome contrast to the cold that had seeped into my bones since my time at the strip club. With a bar of soap in hand, I scrubbed at my skin to rid myself of the vestiges of Dick’s slimy touch.
When the water began to cool, I shut it off and grabbed a towel that had seen better days. It was practically threadbare, but it served its purpose. After a quick drying off, I exited the bathroom in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. My skin was pink and flushed, making me feel human again.
I found Ruth sitting at the table between the living room and kitchenette with a cup of tea, patiently waiting for me. Ignoring her, since I still wasn’t ready to talk about it, I rummaged in the mostly bare cupboards for something to make for dinner, seeing as how I was home earlier than I thought I’d be.
It was a futile attempt at stalling.
Slamming the cupboard when our only prospects were ramen noodles or the last of the chocolate ice cream in the freezer I had bought special for Sophie before I got fired, I blew out a frustrated breath and faced my friend.
Nothing was solved after my visit to Pussy Willows. If anything I felt more distressed than I had that morning when Sophie ate the last of the generic brand cereal, sans milk because we were out of that too.
With my head in my hands, I let defeat wash over me. I hadn’t a clue what to do next. The tears that streamed down my face were silent, but Ruth still knew they were there when my body bucked on a sob.
“Alyssa,” she cooed softly in my ears as she wrapped her arms around me and rocked my body back and forth. “It’s okay to cry.”
“No, it’s not.” I sniffled and buried my head in her neck.
As we stood there, I ate up her motherly affection, needing it more than ever before. It was times like these when I was beaten down and alone that I missed my mother and father the most. I often imagined what they would say or do to help me whenever I was in a bind. That particular wound of losing one’s parents never really healed. It was always open and cut close to the bone whenever I was this helpless.
My sniffles died down with the exhaustion that took over my body. Ruth gave my back one final rub before stepping away and leaving me feeling bereft. She didn’t go far, though. Her hand in mine, she led me to the table, saying, “Tell me what happened.”
I collapsed into a chair, and with my elbow resting on the table and my chin propped up in my hand, I recounted the sad events that had taken place that afternoon at Pussy Willows. When I got to the part where Dick accosted me, Ruth’s eyes hardened and her mouth pressed into a thin line. It made me feel a little better knowing someone would have that kind of reaction for me. It wasn’t as if I had any family left to take my back.
“You aren’t going to that place,” Ruth declared after I told her about the address Reanna had given me.
“I have no choice,” I argued.
While I had never heard of The Den, I found it hard to believe that Reanna would send me there if it weren't any better than Pussy Willows.
Although I had to admit, the name did conjure up images of a lion’s den, and that sent chills up my spine. I most definitely did not want to become a tasty morsel being circled by hungry lions.
As if on cue, my stomach growled and twisted painfully—sounding just like a lion or a bear. Other than a package of peanuts I found at the bottom of my purse, I hadn’t eaten anything in the last two days. The lightheadedness that accompanied the lack of food was making it hard to focus. On the bright side, it was becoming easier to ignore the pangs of hunger.
“Come to my place tonight. I’ve got some gumbo in the fridge I can heat up for us and the kids can have grilled cheese and tomato soup.” Ruth stood from the table, giving me no chance to deflect the invitation. I hated feeling like a charity case, and it was looking more and more likely that was all I was ever going to be. “Let’s go, kids!”
At her shout, Mikey and Sophie came rushing into the room completely oblivious to the tension that still lingered in the air from our earlier conversation.
“Dinner is at my place tonight. Put your shoes on and hold hands while we walk downstairs,” she instructed, and not so surprisingly the kids did as they were told. There was food to be had after all.
Ruth led the way to her apartment, which was almost directly below mine, with the rambunctious duo close behind. I followed at a more sedate pace after changing my clothes. For as grateful as I was for the free meal, I wasn’t looking forward to continuing our conversation about The Den. Ruth wasn’t going to let it go. I knew that much. And while her worry made me feel cared for, she couldn’t relate. She wasn’t a single mother without a job. Sure, she and her late husband had struggled over the years, but it had never been as dire as it was for me at that moment. With just enough money for rent, utilities and food were a luxury I wasn’t sure I’d be able to afford from one day to the next.
The gumbo Ruth served was delicious, and I found myself scarfing it up. I even went back for seconds and considered taking thirds. I stopped after two helpings, though, because by the time I set the spoon down, my stomach was protesting from being so full. I sat back in the chair and placed a hand on my bloated belly, praying I wasn’t going to be sick.
“There’s some left if you want more,” Ruth offered.
“I couldn’t. Really,” I assured her. There was no way any more food was going to fit into my body right then. Not unless I wanted to explode.
“Then you should take it home.” She gave me a stern look that said if I knew what was best for me I wouldn’t argue. So I didn’t.
“Thank you,” I said softly and looked down at the linoleum to hide how her kindness affected me.
I hated how easily and frequently I had been breaking into tears lately. And feeling weak and vulnerable always followed closely on its heels. It was a set of emotions I loathed, but unfortunately was becoming accustomed to.
“Alyssa—” she started, and I knew a lecture was coming.
“Ruth, I have to do it. There are no other options at this point.”
“There’s always another option. Will you really be able to live with yourself after you make that choice?”
“If it means my daughter has food and whatever else she needs, then yes!” This whole situation had me edgy and frustrated. I knew I was taking my frustrations out on Ruth, who had been nothing but kind to me these last few months, but I couldn’t stand someone trying to tell me how to live my life. Especially not when I was doing the best I could with what was handed to me.
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but my nephew knows someone who pays women under the table to clean. I called him earlier to see if he could make something happen.” Her words were rushed as if she knew this could be her last chance to stop me from making what she thought was a huge mistake.
I stretched out in my chair and contemplated her words. Could this be the answer I’d been praying for? God, I really hoped so.
“Give me one more day,” Ruth continued when I didn’t answer.
“I’m not sure I have one more day,” I admitted reluctantly. I didn’t like people knowing just how destitute I was, although it was a moot point considering she had seen how bare my cupboards were earlier that day.
Ruth stood up and walked to her purse on the counter. She pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and placed it on the table in front of me before resuming her seat across from me.
“What’s this?” I asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Consider it a loan. Buy yourself a few staples for the fridge and wait to see what my nephew comes back with.”
“This seems more like a handout than a loan,” I told her, my fingers pushing the money towards her.
“Loan,” she reiterated and pushed it back in my direction.
“Are you going to let me pay you back later?” I raised my eyebrow as I waited for her answer.
“Are you going to wait for my nephew?” she countered and my lips twitched. I could learn a thing or two from Ruth.
“Yes. Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” I rolled my eyes and teased her.
“It is. And it’s the right choice.”
We’d see about that, but deep down I hoped she was right.
I handed the five hundred dollars over to my landlord and then left his rundown office feeling a little lighter, knowing we had another month with a roof over our heads.
The last two weeks I had been working for Malachi, who was a friend of Ruth’s nephew. He had a cleaning business for several office buildings in town. It didn’t pay much, but what it did pay was cash. And even though it was tedious work that often left my muscles tight and my back sore from bending over so frequently, it wasn’t stripping, which meant I was grateful.
I unlocked the door to my apartment and called out for Sophie. I hated leaving her alone for even the few minutes it took me to walk down to the office to pay the rent, but I didn’t like to take her around my sleazy landlord. Something about him didn’t sit completely right with me. While he wasn’t quite on Dick’s level, he was close.
When Sophie didn’t come out of her room right away, I went in search of her. I pushed open her bedroom door that was cracked open and stood in the doorway, smiling while she played princess with her teddy bear. I loved that she was still joyful and free-spirited, even after everything that had happened with Kevin.
“You ready to go to the store?” I asked after watching her dance around like Cinderella for several minutes.
“Yes!” she screeched while running past me towards the front door.
“Wait up!” I called out after her. Her little feet screeched to a halt on the concrete walkway outside the apartment door. When I caught up to her, I smoothed my hands over her riotous curls and led her to the car with our hands locked together.
“Who’s your favorite good fairy, Mommy?” Sophie chatted away as I pulled out of the parking lot towards the grocery store.
“Merryweather,” I answered absentmindedly when the car’s transmission slipped and the engine revved. That was odd, and I had a distinct feeling not very good either.
Oblivious to my growing tension, she babbled on. “Merryweather makes me laugh. I like Flora ‘cause she wears pink. Pink! Blue!”
In spite of my worries, I found myself chuckling as she chanted pink and blue like we always did at the end of Sleeping Beauty when the fairies continuously change the color of Aurora’s dress.
The light in front of us turned red. I stepped on the brake and idled, all the while petting the dashboard lovingly. “Come on, baby. Don’t give up on me now.”
When the light changed a few seconds later, I eased down on the gas. The engine revved, but the car didn’t move. Finally, the transmission caught and the car lurched forward, making noises that were rather frightening.
Horns behind us began honking irately, and I felt my face flush in both embarrassment and despair. This couldn’t be happening. Not now when things were finally starting to look up for us.
Using the small amount of momentum the car had picked up when the wheels did start moving, I pulled over to the side of the road and shut off the engine. Tears filled my eyes as I rested my head on the steering wheel, praying this wouldn’t be too big of a setback for us.
“Why’d we stop?” Sophie asked when she finally realized we weren’t moving. “I want to go to the store!”
Her shrieks made me cringe. This was just what I needed right then—a pint-sized meltdown.
“I know, sweetie. But the car is sick. We’ll have to find a way to get groceries tomorrow.” I swiped at the few tears that spilled down my cheeks and sat back in my seat. I knew my words were a lie. Getting the car fixed was going to eat up any extra money I had and then some. It was just the way my shitty luck was going.
“But I’m hungry!” she shouted from the back, her feet kicking at my seat.
I hated yelling at her since her father left—I really did—but with my patience at the edge thanks to the broken down car, I couldn’t let her carry on.
“That’s enough!” I snapped and she immediately stopped acting like a brat. Although now I could hear her sniffling behind me, and I knew the tears were going to start. At that moment, I wasn’t sure which was worse.
With a slow breath to steady myself, I tried to think calmly and rationally. Without a cell phone, seeing as it was a luxury I couldn’t afford, I had no choice but to walk the few blocks back to the apartment and use the landline.
Plan decided, I climbed out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. Leaning over the back seat, I undid the harness on Sophie’s car seat and let her crawl out on the side opposite traffic.
Finding a tote bag under the front seat, I stuffed anything we might need while the car was getting fixed into it before slinging it over my shoulder along with my purse. With Sophie’s hand in mine, we walked back to the apartment, my earlier buoyed spirits now crushed.
“Can you give me a ride to work tomorrow?” I asked Ruth over the phone later that night. I had just finished informing her that after a two-hundred-dollar towing bill, I learned my car was going to need a two-thousand-dollar transmission replacement. Needless to say, I was going to be without a car for quite some time. No way in hell I could come up with a couple thousand dollars and still afford rent.
“Of course. What time?”
“Six o’clock. Malachi already agreed to let me bring Sophie as long as she didn’t get in the way.”
“You know I don’t mind watching her,” she quickly admonished me.
“I do know that, but I’m already imposing enough on you. Sophie will be thrilled to go with me here and there whenever she can.”
“Would you help me?” she asked what I thought was a random question.
“Of course I would,” I answered truthfully.
“Then let me help you. One day it will be your turn to return the favor.”
“You’re a saint,” I whispered into the phone, my throat clogged with emotions. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for us.”
“It is always my pleasure. I love you like I would my own daughter. Now go take a bath and try to relax tonight.”
That sounded like a great plan, although I wasn’t sure I knew how to relax anymore.
“Thanks again, Ruth,” I murmured into the phone, hoping my gratitude came through. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Just remember, child, that the Lord only gives us that which we can handle. You’re strong because He made you strong. One day you’ll see.” With that, she disconnected and left me pondering her words.
Since Kevin left, even on my best days, I didn’t feel strong. Before that, I’m not sure what I was. I never really thought about it. Sure it was tough dealing with my parents dying when I was twelve. And it was even harder when my maternal aunt, who had taken on the task of raising me, died when I was fifteen. And foster care was a beast in and of itself. I suppose making it through the system mostly unscathed was a testament to the fact that there was some strength in me.
It didn’t matter, though. At the end of the day, I had no choice but to be strong. My daughter needed me and I couldn’t fail her. Even if I was faking it in the hopes of making it.
Turning off the lights in the living room, I made my way down the hall, stopping in front of Sophie’s door where I heard muffled crying coming from her room. I turned the knob and swung the door open, finding Sophie in a ball on her bed, sobbing.
“What’s the matter, baby?” I rushed over to her and took her tiny body in my arms.
“I’m… hungry…” she stuttered out between body-wracking sobs.
Right then, right there, what was left of my broken heart shattered into a million pieces.
I had failed the one person who loved me unconditionally.
I had failed as a mother.
There was only one thing left for me to do.
Two days later, a cab dropped me off at a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of town. Unlike Pussy Willows, the grounds of The Den seemed well maintained with bushes and shrubs surrounding the blacktop. It wasn’t overtly scary, but it was deserted looking. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the building was abandoned.
“Excuse me. Are you sure this is the right address?” I asked the driver before exiting the vehicle.
“You wanted The Den. You got The Den.” He looked me up and down from over his shoulder and gave me a lecherous grin. “Enjoy yourself, pretty girl.”
With a sense of unease, I got out and stared at the building as the cab drove away.
Growing up here my whole life I’d had no idea this place existed. How had I not known it existed?
Shaking off the strange feelings that line of thought evoked, I chalked it up to my fear of the unknown. I had no clue what lay beyond those heavy metal doors. Or if anything did, really. The only positive thought I clung to was that it was unlikely for a cabbie to leave me stranded all the way out here if the place actually was abandoned.
“I guess now is as good a time as any to find out what’s actually behind the door,” I muttered and squared my shoulders, fed up with my silent internal debate about The Den.
My heels clicked on the pavement as I tentatively climbed the concrete steps. I smoothed down the black dress covering my hips before reaching out and pulling the handle of the door, coming up short when it didn’t budge.
“What the hell?” I pulled again with the same result.
With a renewed vigor, I tried a couple more times, putting a little more elbow grease into it before finally giving up. With a huff, I looked to the side and spotted an older-looking doorbell. Pushing the button, I was met with silence.
Just great, I silently fumed.
Digging in my purse, I pulled out the slip of paper Reanna had given me. This was the place according to what was written and of course what the cabbie had said—and he did seem to be in the know about The Den.
Please, Lord, don’t let me be stranded out here. The nearest gas station is at least a mile down the road and these heels are sure to kill my feet before I get there.
Assuming the buzzer was broken, I pushed it several more times out of frustration before letting out a groan and dropping my head in defeat.
I swear the universe was out to get me.
Turning to walk back down the stairs, I was about to place my foot on the first step when the door behind me creaked open. I spun around to greet the person at the door and lost my footing, stumbling backward. My arms pinwheeled at my sides for a brief moment and I thought for sure I was going to topple backward and crack my head open. At the last minute, I was able to right myself before taking a header.
Clutching the iron railing, I looked up and gasped at the sight of the giant black man standing in the doorway. He looked like an even more badass Shaft than Samuel L. Jackson did.
Standing well over six foot, his upper body was so wide I was surprised he fit through the door. His head was bald with a thick beard covering his face, and he had menace written all over him. If I wasn’t mistaken, some of it was directed at me.
Yikes! It would seem the doorbell worked after all.
“Hi,” I chirped and gave a quirky wave in an attempt to hide my anxiety. The man made me want to pee my pants.
He didn’t wave back. Instead, he crossed his arms and silently stared me down.
Okay. That definitely wasn’t helping.
I took a step in his direction and swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I’m hoping to speak with someone about a job.”
His eyes assessed me for a moment before he bit out, “We aren’t hiring.”
When he turned to walk back inside, I raced towards him and gripped the edge of the door. “Please. All I need is a few minutes of your time. Reanna sent me.”
He turned back to me with a discerning gaze. “Where’d you meet Reanna?”
“At Pussy Willows,” I answered quickly.
“Figures.” He spun around and started walking down a dimly lit hall just past where I stood at the door. My jaw fell open at his sudden dismissal. I couldn’t believe he was just going to walk away from me.
He stopped abruptly and glanced over his shoulder at me, barking, “You coming or what?”
Coming unstuck, I hurried after him, practically tripping over my own feet in both fear and excitement. He was giving me a chance!
“Excuse me, mister…” I trailed off, not sure of his name.
“Darnell,” he answered, and I thought the name suited him.
“Darnell, can you slow down?” My words were punctuated by a slap of my hand on the wall when my ankle turned while trying to keep up with his long, quick strides.
With annoyance written all over his face, he shook his head at me but slowed his steps.
As we entered a large room, a scantily clad woman hustled by us. She gave Darnell a broad smile and called out, “How’s it shaking, Ghost?”
I barely took notice of her when he stopped to speak with her. I was too busy glancing around the room in amazement.
Holy shit this is a classy joint.
The center of the room had a huge tres ceiling with built-in lighting around the edges and a chandelier hanging in the center of the recess. On either end of the room’s long walls, there were large oval-shaped platforms with two poles on each. Above the platforms were soffits in the ceiling that were lit up with what I would consider mood lighting.
Club chairs were scattered throughout the room with round, cherry wood tables in between. Several men were lounging in the chairs, sipping on their drinks, while three girls danced on the platforms. Two more women wandered around the room, talking to the different men before getting refills for them at the bar that was tucked into the front corner of the room. All of the women were in various stages of undress. Only one actually wore nothing but a G-string, her boobs on full display but tastefully decorated with sequins and glitter.
This was definitely not your typical strip club. Everything was high-end, including the clientele—who were mostly in suits, their demeanor screaming big money. If this turned out to be my next job, I owed Reanna a huge thank-you. Pussy Willows couldn’t hold a candle to The Den.
Darnell muttered one last thing under his breath to the woman, and with a hand on my elbow, led me further into the room. I followed behind and asked distractedly, “I thought you said your name was Darnell?”
“It is” was his deep, rumbly reply.
“But she just called you Ghost,” I pointed out the obvious. When he said nothing in return, I lamely asked, “So is that your nickname, then?”
“Yeah.” His response was clipped. It would seem he wasn’t much of a talker. Good to know.
Still rubbernecking to take everything in, I followed Ghost to the back corner of the room to a door that looked like it was part of the wall if you didn’t know it was there. There was no door handle to open it, just a strange sequence of pushing on the wood that granted you access to the other side.
It. Was. So. Cool.
I could definitely get used to this place, I thought as the corners of my mouth turned up into a small grin. I was surprised how at ease I felt since walking through the doors. Ghost was still downright terrifying and there were still a few butterflies in my stomach, but it was nothing compared to how twisted my stomach had felt when I was at Pussy Willows.
Once through the super-secret doorway, Ghost took me down a hallway, this one with dark wood-paneled walls and gleaming hardwood floors. We passed two other hallways that intersected the one we were in. Both looked extremely long, with at least a dozen doors down either side. I idly wondered what they were for. There were just so many of them.
Ghost suddenly stopped at a closed door, causing me to almost slam into his thick, broad back. He ushered me inside and closed the door behind us. The office we were in was similar to Dick the Slime’s, but it was way classier and definitely tidier than Dick’s had been.
A blue crushed velvet sofa rested against one wall and a glass desk with two modern-looking chairs in front of it was along the opposite wall.
Even with the place being so classy, the sofa looked out of place with Ghost sitting on the arm of it, his arms crossed and another hard look on his face.
When I didn’t move or speak—rather just stood there like a world-class idiot—he barked loudly, “Strip already,” causing me to jump.
“Oh. Right,” I mumbled, knowing it would come to this. I wasn’t stupid enough to think that they wouldn’t want to see me naked prior to hiring me. Thank heavens I only had a few small stretch marks from when I carried Sophie.
With shaky fingers, I lowered the zipper on the side of my dress. My hands went up to the straps, pushing them over my shoulders and allowing the material to slide down my body and pool at my feet on the floor.
I felt rather self-conscious standing in front of a complete stranger in nothing but a pair of black lace panties and red heels as his eyes raked over every inch of my exposed body. This wasn’t the hungry stare of a man, though, but rather a more clinical gaze of a doctor. It was just another reason why The Den was so different from Pussy Willows.
“Turn around,” Ghost instructed, and I slowly turned for him to see my backside.
I sure hoped my ass looked cute and tight, not saggy and gross. The thought made me clench my muscles to make the cheeks look firmer.
Not that Ghost had any praises for my body; he just studied it silently.
“You like anal?” I choked back an expletive at his random question and turned to see he had moved to the desk and was looking at some papers, a pen in his hand.
How the hell did a man of his size move so silently? And had I just heard him right?
“Excuse me?” I asked, hoping that I was hallucinating.
“Do you like anal?” Nope, apparently I had heard him perfectly.
“Why the hell would you want to know that?” I demanded in outrage. My earlier thoughts about how tasteful The Den was flew out the window. What the hell kind of sick place was this?
“I’ll take that as a no.” His tone said he thought I had a screw loose. His hands scribbled something on the paper in front of him, and I found myself leaning closer to try and see what it was.
“Condoms?” was his next question, and my eyebrows rose of their own volition as my back straightened.
“Excuse me?” I repeated my earlier question.
“Do you prefer condoms? Some women don’t mind bareback,” he explained like he had this conversation every day.
“I’m not sure I’m following you,” I tried again but with a different tact. This might have been a mundane topic for him, but it surely wasn’t for me. And I still had no idea as to why this was even relevant.
“Girls are tested weekly by the doctor that comes on site. You’re expected to be here every Monday morning, no exceptions. Your schedule for the rest of the week is up to you. Just let Trixie know what timeslots you’re signing up for.”
“Timeslots?” I mumbled as my head spun and I tried to keep up with his changing topics.
What was going on here?
“Trixie’s office is the first door we passed. She’s in charge of everyone’s schedules. See her before you leave and work out the details with her. Every girl is paid on the jobs they take. You only work the barroom when you have no one lined up for your time already. You keep whatever tips the men leave for you. Doesn’t pay as much, but my guess you’ll have enough clients lined up so it shouldn’t matter.”
“Clients?” I asked in a daze.
Why did I have a feeling this wasn’t at all like Pussy Willows? And not just for the obvious reasons.
“Every girl gets put on a two-week probation. Once we start getting feedback on your performance, you can work your way up to the bigger clients. Bigger clients equal more money. Until then, you’ll get people coming in for shit stuff—blowjobs, hand jobs, the fetish shit no one else wants.”
I took several steps back as my mind finally registered everything he was saying. My eyes practically bugged out of my head and I felt lightheaded. Reanna hadn’t set me up with a sweet gig. No, she’d thrown me right into the pits of hell.
Her words, if you’re serious about this kind of life, came back to me. She thought I was at Pussy Willows to sell my body? Jesus. Were all strip clubs brothels in disguise?
“Some of the bouncers will tell you that if you fuck one of them you’ll get around that requirement,” Ghost rolled on as if I wasn’t standing there hyperventilating. “I can safely say that I’m the only one you can fuck and have that happen. And that’s not because I’m a prick. It’s because I have the best taste and the boss knows it. The other boys just want some free snatch. So, you want to spread for me, I’m game. You don’t, that’s your choice.”
The realization that if I wanted to work there, I would be spreading my legs for anyone was a harsh one. It was beyond anything I could fathom that he could so casually talk about fucking me so that I wouldn’t have to service the shit clients.
Ghost finally looked up at me and took in how freaked out I was. Whatever he was about to say died on his lips and his brows furrowed in confusion.
“I thought you wanted a job?” he asked with a shake of his head.
“Can’t I just dance out front?” I whispered in desperation.
