He eyed her across the desk.
Again, again, again, and again, she was right.
For years, Ms. Jess had been dedicated to helping the troubled youth in Drake’s Run, fighting against the corruption of teen prostitution, drugs, and gang violence that gripped it.
She looked at him long and hard. “That’s another reason why you’re here at Drake’s Run, isn’t it? To see her.”
His face froze into a mask. “Yes,” he said stiffly, forcing himself to hold her stare. “Is she still operating the Den?”
She gave a swift nod. “Unfortunately, yes. But, it’s no longer a whore ring, but a hot drug spot. I’m telling you now that you’re putting yourself at risk by going there. So, be prepared for the unexpected. Let’s just say that her, uh, ‘kindness’,” the counselor related with open bitterness. “…is still being felt in the neighborhood today.” An exasperated breath left her. “Don’t tell me that you’re here to get permission from her to live your own life.” At his continued silence, her agitation mounted. “I can see that my assertions are right. Please don’t let her continue to emotionally blackmail you. Damn it, Christopher, you don’t owe her your very existence. It’s time to break the yoke that she’s had around your neck. Free yourself.”
“Don’t you think that I want to?” he snapped quickly on the defensive. Then, sighing, he softened his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful or so harsh, Ms. Jess. If there’s anyone’s opinion that I highly value, it’s yours.”
“Listen to me, my intention is not to brow beat the woman, but the truth is the truth. While I know that Crystal probably hasn’t had it easy, it doesn’t excuse the fact that she treated you horribly in many ways.” She said firmly, pursing her lips, and empathy shone in her eyes. “It breaks my heart every time I think about you. You’ve gone your entire life, longing for a family, the mother and father that were denied you. But, a mother’s love is kind, loving, and giving. There’s no pain in the love that she gives.” Her eyes held his. “Deep down, I think you know that. But, so far, Crystal’s been the only representation of one, and you’re clinging to the falseness that she represents.”
He looked away from her.
Still, the truth stabbed him hard.
A pregnant pause ensued, and neither of them said anything more. Finally, he stood. “It’s getting late, and I really must be going.” Along with his posture, his face was stiff. “I’ll be sending a contribution to the center next week. I’ve noticed that the play area out back is in need of a new swing.”
She nodded again. “Any and all contributions are welcomed, especially from you.” Sighing, she moved from behind the desk, and he didn’t dissuade her efforts as she hugged him again. “I’m worried about you. Please promise me that you’ll take care of yourself.”
He pulled back. “I will.”
“And you know that you can come here anytime, right? I’ll always have an open door policy for you.” Her kind brown eyes held his. “Christopher, if you don’t listen to anything else that I say, remember this. It’s not too late for you. You have the opportunity to change your life and make it better. Don’t let the ghosts of the past haunt you or make you feel undeserving of happiness. You have the chance at a real life. Stop punishing yourself and live.”
Chapter 16
Twenty minutes later, as he arrived at the Den, his thoughts were in further upheaval. The car rolled to a full stop. For a brief second, he let the car idle, trying to mentally prepare himself.
His troubled gaze shot around.
The booming rap music was coming directly from the SUV that was parked on the opposite side of him. While that was so, the music spilled past the closed windows and into the car. Even the windows vibrated from the pulsating sound pressure.
A trio of men stood beside it, and easily, he saw their illegal business transaction. The swapping of fast cash for mind-inducing drugs…
Several feet ahead of them, a small group of women stood right under the beaming street lights, most of them dressed indecently to expose their feminine wares. A lightly tanned sedan idled at the curb near them, and already one of the women was bent over, conversing with the driver. After a few quick words, the woman straightened before hopping into the car.
As the car sped off, the nausea rose in his throat, and he couldn’t stifle the sudden nasty taste in his mouth.
Hell, that was him.
Of course, he now resided in upscale Atlanta and served only rich, elite clients with the watered down, softened title of ‘male escort’.
But, the ugly truth remained.
Like them, he was selling both his body and soul.
Taking an unsteady breath, he forced the door latch down before springing out. As he took the narrow steps leading to the Den, he felt like a drunkard for nothing was intact or clear.
The Den was a rambling two-story, white clapboard house, and it stood dead center of the street. When he stepped onto the front porch, he caught sight of the empty swing. It was the very one that he’d occupied too often, contemplating his fate and very existence.
Carefully, he pulled on the ragged screen door that was barely held in place by two hinges, one at the very top and the other one in the middle. Then, he found himself facing a badly peeling door dressed in teal, and it was the only splash of color on the whole house.
A suffocating feeling squeezed his chest as he raised a hand to knock. Just before his knuckles rapped against the wood, his hand halted midair.
Was he mentally prepared for this confrontation? Would he ever be?
Releasing a pent-up breath, he knocked.
On the other side of the door, there was a violent, steady string of curses as the other party made their approach. Just then, the door was wrenched open forcefully, and the scraggly voice met him. “How many fucking times have I told you that we can’t sell directly from the house this late, asshole? This time of the night, the mighty blue are crawling around the neighborhood like slithering cockroaches---”
At the sight of him, the petite blonde halted her verbal tirade, and her mouth gaped open in shock. Her last action nearly caused the burning cigarette to fall from her mouth. Somehow, she managed to clamp it with her lips before mumbling, “My sweet and darling Chris-meat, is that you?”
He stared down at her.
She hadn’t changed much in the last two years that he’d seen her. Petite, at 58 years of age, she was washed out, displaying little of the attractiveness that she used to hold. Her natural black hair was now a bleached-out white blonde color that was rather unbecoming. She was dressed in a badly tattered brown robe and pink house slippers.
Unsurprisingly, bouts of endless and dangerous hard living had left visible, physical imprints. All over her skin, from her face to her nape, there were lingering scars and blemishes. One lasting mark was the finely lined scar beneath her right eye, all courtesy of a switch blade used by one of her boyfriend-johns years ago.
How did he know?
Hell, he’d literally pried the abusive bastard off of her himself before engaging in a brutal fight. That stint had landed him some quality time in the county detention center.
“Are you going to say something or keep standing there like a complete doofus?” After dropping the cigarette to the ground, she stomped it out with her slipper. Then, she hugged him tightly. “I’ve missed you so much. You’re going to have to stop being a stranger.”
“It has been awhile.” Stiffening, he allowed the embrace for a few seconds before pulling back. “Crystal, how’ve you been?”
“What’s with this Crystal shit?” Scowling, she tightened the robe’s lapel fast and stepped back. “While I may not have spawned you outright, I’m still your mother, and you are my son. I’ll forgive you this time. But, next time, call me what I am. Now, come in before the house is full of mosquitoes. You know that they’re a bitch this time of the year.”
Naturally, she still thought she had the right to reprimand him and order him ar
ound, he thought darkly. But, still, he stepped into the ransacked house.
Upon entrance into the foyer, he saw the badly cluttered space. But, she’d never been inclined to do any cleaning. In fact, growing up, anytime that the house had been clean, it’d been at his doing. Yet, usually, it hadn’t taken long for one of her drug-induced parties to wipe out his good deeds and return the house to its usual frenzied state.
At his tight expression, she laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. Yes, the place is a mother-fucking travesty and eyesore.” She shrugged before leading the way to the living area. “It always will be. As long as the roaches and rats are good roomies and share the space, I’m good. Can I get you a beer or something to drink?”
Trailing behind her, he continued looking around. “Nothing, thanks.”
The place reeked of cigarette smoke and marijuana, and the unpleasing scents grew stronger as they drew closer to the living area. When they reached it, he was hardly surprised to see the same furniture adorning it, and all of it was musty and smoke-filled.
An orangey, rust-colored sofa was the central piece. Cigarette butts had burned more than a few holes, and ugly stains marred every inch of the fabric. The ottoman was clothed in green fabric, and the purple wingback chair was hardly its match. Like the sofa, both pieces of furniture were badly soiled. The coffee table exhibited further evidence of un-cleanliness. From one corner to the next, scores of both empty and filled liquor bottles were scattered across it. The boot-shaped ashtrays contained mounds of cigarette butts. At the table’s edge, there was a pipe, syringe, needle, and small bag of pure cut cocaine. Already, there were remnants of the white powder on the table’s surface.
“Don’t sit down yet,” Crystal mumbled in her scratchy tone and snatched the cotton throw from a nearby chair before spreading it across the sofa. Quickly, she smoothed out the ripples with her wrinkled hands, and then a strange look filled her greenish-blue eyes as she faced him. “Now, the space is fit for my king son.”
There was no dismissing that note of sarcasm, he mulled silently and settled on the sofa. “Thanks.” As she sagged down beside him, he took in the scattered bottles and drug paraphernalia on the table. “You promised me that you were through with all of this shit,” he muttered quickly, eyeing the table with distaste, and then looked at her again. “Why did you leave the rehab center this time? You have no idea what I had to do to convince them to let you back into the program---”
“I bet you were madder than a red hen when you found out I left, weren’t you?” she snickered with barely disguised amusement. “Serves you right. That’s what happens when you pawn me off on somebody else and pretend that I don’t exist.”
“You know that’s not fucking true---”
“If you’re here to deliver one of your long, drawn out lectures, you can get the fuck out now.” She rolled her eyes skyward as if bored and then reached for the lighter on the table. Plucking a cigarette from the robe’s front pocket, she lit it fast and soon the red embers glowed from the end. After taking a long draw, she settled against the cushions. “If I wanted to be preached to or wanted the gospel, I’d march my ass straight to Drake’s Missionary Baptist Church on Sunday. So, since I have little to no interest in a sermon, let’s skip your pitiful water-downed version of one.”
“And the ten grand that I sent---what in the hell did you do with it?” he asked, stiffening, and shot a gaze around the cluttered living room again. “It’s obvious that you didn’t put it to use here.” He snapped his lips shut, but then thought better of it. “Why are you back here? What happened to the place that I set you up in across town? Hell, I had even made a yearly installment on it.” He sized her up with a long look. “What did you do to get kicked out? Something must’ve happened---”
“Don’t bring your little snobby ass here and judge me,” she snapped again before taking another long drag on the cigarette. An embarrassed flush crept up her face. “What can I say? The management there---they were complete assholes. They tried to box me in and stop Crystal from having her little fun.”
“Your brand of fun can only be found at this hell hole,” he said in a clipped tone. “After all this time, you’d think that you’d be tired of living like this---”
“Yada, yada, yada.” She waved the burning cigarette in the air, and a look of impatience marred her face. “You’ve barely been here five minutes, and you’re boring me, Chris-meat. I feel like burning a fucking hole on your skin, on the same exact spot that I did when you were ten. So, don’t keep trying my damn patience. Thank goodness that we don’t see one another often. If we did, you’d drive me crazy as all fuck.” Puffing on the cigarette a few more seconds, she watched the perfectly, lassoed ring of smoke floating through the air. “Besides that, you can’t stay long anyways. Larry will be home in a short while. He doesn’t like me to have company.” She grinned proudly, revealing the small gap between her front teeth. “I love how the asshole is all possessive and shit. It shows that he’s a real man unlike you.”
Frowning, he ignored the insult. “Who in the hell is Larry?”
“My man, you little bitch. Who else would he be?” Crystal snapped rudely, holding the burning cigarette between two fingers, and gave him an exasperated look. Then, she stubbed the cigarette out before leaving in the ashtray. Scowling, she looked at him hard. “Somebody’s gotta take care of me.”
“Taking care of you? Is that what he’s doing?” A bitter laugh left him. “He doesn’t seem to be doing a good job at it.”
“Don’t you dare judge him.” Then, she jabbed a pointy finger in his direction. “You---you’re the fucking disappointment. Instead of taking care of me like you should, you leave me hanging.”
“Leave you hanging?” he retorted in disbelief, rising slightly forward on the sofa. “That’s the furthest thing from the truth. As a matter of fact, it’s an outright lie. I’ve been doing everything humanly possible to help you as best as I can. But, you never show any appreciation---”
“Would you just shut up!” she screamed, showing a hint of her volatile anger, the very one that he’d been exposed to as a kid. She sent a warning look in his direction. “I swear that I’m going to kill you if you don’t shut your trap! You know I make real on my threats. Don’t think that because you’re grown that I won’t. I’ll take my 45 magnum and pop a quick cap in your ass. Yeah, I bet that’d shut you up.” Then, shifting her tone altogether, she made a childish whine. “Why are you judging me, Chris-meat? You know how depressing it makes me feel.”
“I’m not trying to judge you, Crystal.” He released a fast breath, trying to calm himself. “If it came off that way, I’m sorry. My only intentions are to help you---”
“You got some money on you?” she interrupted abruptly, seeming on edge all of a sudden, and pure agitation played on her face. Her eyes traveled over him fast before her lips curled in a snarl. “Don’t try to pretend that you don’t. From the look of things, you’re doing well. You have me to think for that. I put you through the right training. You’re the best whore that Atlanta has to offer because of me. If I hadn’t introduced you to the business—”
The anger sliced through him quickly.
“You mean leaving me with strange women during the odd hours of the night so that they could abuse me? You pimped me out when I had absolutely no idea what sex really was or what it meant.” The hostility fused his words, turning them into a lethal weapon. “You took advantage of me, using my fear of abandonment to emotionally blackmail me into doing things that weren’t right.” As the emotional wounds reopened in his heart, he allowed them to bleed red. “Do you know how many nights I’d lie there and cry myself to sleep? I was confused and conflicted about what was happening. Deep down, something told me that it was wrong. But, all I could think about was being on the streets----alone and lost. As crazy as it sounds, you were the only constant in my life, and I didn’t want to lose that. And you---you played on that very thing.” He couldn’t hide his accusatory look.
“I’ve been fucked up ever since. I don’t know who to be other than what you made me.”
“Still blaming me because you’re a screw up, huh? Yes, I admit it,” she hedged with a slightly guilty look. “When you were younger, some of the things that happened to you with those women bordered on being completely sick.” Her face took on a dazed look. But, then, shaking her head, she wiped it away. “That’s been over for years. Why are you even bringing it up?”
He beat a fist against his chest, and he couldn’t disguise his torment. “Because I don’t know who or what I fucking am. Don’t you get that?” he rasped in a low whisper, and the pain shone in his eyes. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to figure it out what normal means and wondering if I can ever be---”
“Quit whining about it and just give me some money, you ungrateful little shit,” she snarled and eyed him with open contempt. “You know what? You’ll always be a pussy; you’re completely lacking any balls. If it weren’t for me you’d still be bundled up on that bathroom floor in the gas station pissing in your blanket.”
Falling silent, he took his wallet out and retrieved the five crisp one hundred bills. He tossed them onto the small space on the coffee table. “That’s all the cash that I have on me. Put it to good use. Get some groceries or something instead of the drugs and poison that’s killing you.”
She snatched the money from the table. “I’ll spend it however and on whatever I want.” Pushing the robe aside slightly, she stuffed the five hundred dollars in her bosom. Then, she smiled as if they were carrying on a normal conversation. “Tell me. Are you making your mama proud? From the looks of things, baring that pretty ass of yours is doing you good.”
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