Dirty Nights

by A. M. Hargrove

  His hands start tugging off my coat and then I start to fight. My fists fly out at him and I want to punch and hurt him for saying those things to me.

  “Leave me alone! Don’t touch me! Haven’t you humiliated me enough? Now you want me naked as well?” My chest heaves from the exertion of each breath and my hands are fisted as though I’m ready to strike again.

  “I only want to help you change into these.” He holds up a pair of sweats in his hands.

  When I see what he has, it brings on another round of tears.

  “Come on, Skylina, let me help.”

  I give no resistance as he takes off my coat and puts the sweats on me. Then he pulls me onto his lap where I sob my heart out. When they eventually give way to hiccups, he asks how my ankle is.

  “It’s ruined me.”

  “Ruined you? How so?”

  “I was supposed to audition for a dance production tomorrow.” Hiccup … hiccup. “My friend went through a whole lot of trouble to help me and now I won’t be able to dance.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you will. I can wrap it for you. I know a lot about ankle injuries.”

  I rub my face with my sleeve, drying the tears. I move to get up but his arms tighten around me.

  “I’m not letting you up, Skylina.”

  I lift my eyes to his and try to figure him out. I see nothing in them to give him away.

  “What do you want from me, Ryder?”

  “The truth.”

  Gritting my teeth, I say, “You already know the truth. You said it yourself. I’m a fucking paid whore and I sell myself to other men. Oh, and while we’re on the subject, I’m a sleazy private dancer, too. I’m a slut, Ryder. A filthy dirty slut. My mom’s a drug addict who sold me to her pimp when I was sixteen. I’ve been used, abused and raped. When I turned eighteen, I found someone who thought I was worth something.” A bitter laugh rushes out of me. “A better pimp if you will, who treated me with a bit of decency.” No one knows this. No one. Why am I telling him this? I guess it’s because none of it matters anymore. I always had some small element of pride in myself. Maybe it was because I was forced to do what I do. But he’s reduced me to nothing … stripped me bare so I don’t even have that tiny bit of pride any more. “I’ve taken care of my mom since then. What else do you want to know? Do I like what I do? No. I despise myself for it. Every ferking day. And you just drove that point home. Like a damn knife to my heart. Why don’t I quit? What else can I do to keep my mom off the street and her drug habit paid for? I can’t go to school. I can’t wait tables. It doesn’t pay enough. So now you know. Can I get up and leave now?” I’ve finally run out of steam. My voice sounds dull and lifeless even to my ears.

  I’m not aware tears are flowing again until he takes my face in his hands and wipes them away. He stands, still holding me and puts me in bed. Then he lies down behind me and pulls me close to him. I don’t want to like being next to him. I don’t want to like the way he smells when he curls behind me and tucks my head under his chin. I want to hate him. But I don’t. God help me I don’t.

  “Shhh, it’s going to be okay Skylina.”

  “It won’t ever be okay, Ryder. Ever. You can’t possibly understand any of this.”

  I must’ve cried myself to sleep because something awakens me in the middle of the night. When I realize what it is, I come fully awake.

  “Go back to sleep Skylina. I’m only icing your ankle.”

  I glance down to see he’s wrapping a bag of ice around my sprained joint. I watch his hands adeptly handling the Ace bandage, like he’s done this a million times. When he’s finished, he places my ankle on a towel and gets back in bed with me. He wakes me up a few more times in the night doing the ice thing.

  When the morning comes, I hear the shower running. My head pounds from all the tears I shed. I test my ankle by rotating it and it hurts, but not nearly as bad as I thought it would. When I look at it, I see it’s swollen and slightly purple. My audition is at one so I still have a few hours where I can ice it.

  Since I’m in dire need of some coffee, I hop to the kitchen and start a pot brewing. The bathroom door opens and Ryder walks out, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. My heart drops to my stomach and my mouth suddenly goes dry. I don’t want to face him today. He knows every single one of my terrible secrets and the thought of seeing disdain or contempt in his eyes will be too much for me to bear.

  “Hey,” he says. “I didn’t expect you to be out of bed. You need to keep your ankle elevated and iced for as long as possible. What time is your audition?”

  “Um, one.” My throat is so constricted; I can barely get the words out.

  “Good. That gives us some time.” He busies himself with his towel.

  He can’t mean to stay here. I don’t think I can hold myself together if he does. Can’t he see I’m unraveling at the seams?

  “Ryder. You have to leave. Or I do.”

  His head snaps up. “Not happening.”

  “But …”

  “I’m staying until you leave for your audition. And then you won’t ever have to see me again if you don’t want.”

  If he thinks that makes me feel better, he’s crazy. I wish I could go back in time … to yesterday morning. When I thought I was just a girl who stripped and hooked for a living. And I wasn’t that girl who had some guy she barely knew destroy every fairy tale she had ever dreamed about.

  FOUR

  Ryder

  When I called her a fucking paid whore, she wilted and then crumpled before my eyes, like I took my fist and punched her in the gut. The pain that washed over her face was so visceral I fucking felt it. When she told me her deal, I wanted to kill her fuck of a mother. Who the hell sells their sixteen-year-old daughter to their pimp? A pimp that abused and raped her? And then when she told me why she does it— all for the woman that sold her in the first place— I wanted to ram my fist through the goddamn wall. But when she told me that I—Ryder Christiansen—humiliated her and drove the point through like a knife no less, of why she hates herself, I wanted to die. Right there and then. I’ve never hated myself more than at that particular moment. Not when I was so fucking high that I used women left and right or even used my parents. But the way I hurt Skylina brought me to my knees. And the way she fucking sobbed. Off and on all night long, waking me up with her pitiful cries while she slept. There won’t be a day I live for the rest of my life that I won’t think about it.

  But today she needs to go to some audition. She said some friend pulled some strings to get her there. And now her ankle is fucked up all because of me. I have lots, and I mean lots, of experience dancing on sprained ankles. Had to do it all the damn time. Ballet requires the dancers to do all sorts of leaps and jumps from the grand jete to the rivoltade. Ankle injuries were common for me. So this is an area where I can help her. I need athletic and kinetic tape and I can teach her how to wrap her ankle.

  “Skylina, I was an ass to you last night. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my business to barge into your life and assume you have no worries or problems to contend with. And that this was a path you’ve chosen for the hell of it. That was selfish and foolish of me. I’m not asking you to forgive me, though I would like that. What I am asking is for you to let me help you. I can help you with your ankle for your audition. All I need is some tape. While I run out to get it, why don’t you shower? I’ll also pick up some breakfast. Then when I get back, you can eat and we’ll do some heat and ice treatments. An hour before you leave here, I’ll tape you up and I promise you, you’ll be able to dance. I won’t guarantee you’ll be your best, but you’ll be able to dance. Do we have a deal?”

  Her eyes narrow as she studies me and then she eventually nods.

  I dress quickly and head out for supplies. It only takes me about forty-five minutes to get everything I need because I know exactly where to go. On my way back, I pick up some bagels and coffee.

  When I walk in, she’s sitting on the couch with her leg elevated.

&nb
sp; I grab two buckets. In one, I put some of the ice I bought and fill it with water. Then I plunge her foot into it.

  “Yow! That hurts!”

  “I didn’t say this would feel good.”

  In the other bucket, I put warm water. After one minute in the ice, I take it out and put it in the warm water.

  “Ouch! Are you sure this is supposed to help? It’s killing me!”

  “Yep. Contrast treatments. It constricts and dilates your blood vessels. It allows your body to get rid of all the swelling and accumulated fluid around the injury.” I hope my explanation suffices and she doesn’t think I’m hurting her on purpose.

  After four minutes in the warm, I put it back in the ice. I keep this up for thirty minutes.

  “Now for breakfast and some ibuprofen.” I make her a toasted bagel with peanut butter and give her the pills. I also hand her some more coffee.

  “I still think you’re trying to kill me.”

  “No, please trust me on this, Skylina.”

  After several rounds, we stop and elevate. Then when things have calmed down for her, I tape her up and show her exactly where to put the tape for the best support.

  “How do you know all this?”

  I shrug. This will not be part of our discussion today. “Lots of sprained ankles when I played tennis,” I murmur.

  When I’m finished, I tell her to test it out. She stands and hesitantly puts weight on it. Then she does a few moves, light steps and smiles a little.

  “Pretty good,” she says.

  “Do you wear shoes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go put them on and then I want you to try some of your more difficult moves. We can alter the tape if need be. To add extra support, you know.”

  “Right.” She disappears and comes back with dance sneakers on. Suddenly she starts moving to an unknown beat and spins on one leg. I glance down and notice it’s her bad ankle she’s been spinning on. Then she takes off and does a series of spread eagle jumps and ends up with a flip. She’s good. Really good. She could be in a music video. I knew from her pole dancing she was talented, but this takes it beyond great.

  “This feels pretty good. I can tell it’s not right, like something’s off, but still it’s better than I’d hoped.”

  “How long have you been dancing?”

  “Forever, it seems. Started when I was a little kid. I wanted to go to Juillia …” she stops and shakes her head. “Never mind. It was just a dream.” Her blue eyes have dimmed considerably. It was her future … the dream she harbored for years. I know. I shared that same dream. To dance my heart out. The only difference here is I got the chance. I had the opportunity. I had the special training. She never did. She ended up with a drugged up bitch who sold her to a pimp.

  “Skylina, go to this audition and dance your heart out. Dance as if your life depends on it. You’re good. Really good. You have great potential.”

  “Thanks Ryder, but you don’t have to say that.”

  “I mean it. Just go and give it your all. What’s your phone number?” I ask as I grab my cell. She tells me and I immediately text her my number and save hers to my contact list. “Text me when you’re done. Now good luck. I have to go. Peace out.” I pick up my stuff and leave, not really wanting to, but knowing I need to give her some space.

  Emotions whirl through my body, things I’ve never felt before. But I shove them down and keep walking. I’m late for class as it is. I’ve already missed English. I’ll need to suck up to my professor and see what I can do to make up for it.

  My Criminal Justice class has just been dismissed when my phone vibrates. I snatch it and see it’s a text from Skylina.

  S: It’s over. Not sure how it went. Don’t know how to gauge it

  Me: Congrats on finishing! Proud of you

  S: Thanks I think

  Me: Coffee?

  S: When?

  Me: Now? Or whenever you can get there

  S: Where?

  Me: Guess

  S: Joe &Mo’s?

  Me: Yep

  S: See ya there

  I’m only a few blocks from Joe and Mo’s so I go straight on over. Since I don’t know where she’s coming from, I figure I can get a bit of studying in. My English professor is going to make me pay. I have to write an extra paper. Fun times.

  I grab a coffee and pull out my laptop. I’ve decided my paper is going to be a story about Skylina. So I start typing away. I’m astounded at how easy the words seem to flow from my mind onto the screen. But what shocks me even more is reading what I’ve written.

  “Hey,” a voice startles me. I nearly spill my coffee.

  She stands before me, looking radiant. She’s holding a cup of coffee so she must have slipped in and I didn’t even notice.

  “Hey.”

  ‘What’re you working on over there that has you so engrossed?”

  “Oh nothing.”

  “Um, wrong. I’ve been standing here for at least three minutes and you haven’t noticed me. At all. Give it up, Ryder.”

  There’s not a chance in hell I’ll let her read this. I exit out of the doc and close the lid. “Really, it was just some stuff for school.”

  Skylina is not good at hiding things. Her face shows surprise at my statement. “You’re in school?”

  “Yep. NYU. Criminal Justice.”

  “Really?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “I don’t know. I had all kinds of ideas about you, but school never entered my mind.”

  “So what you’re saying is I don’t look very scholarly?”

  “No! That’s not it.” Her face immediately explodes into a bright shade of fuchsia.

  Before I can help myself, my hand reaches out to feel her cheek with the back of my fingers. “A little hot there, are you?”

  She smiles shyly, and ducks her head. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

  “So, give it up. I want to know what you had me pegged for.”

  She snorts. “A fighter.”

  My smile disappears and I lean forward and whisper, “Oh, Skylina. You, of all people should know that I’m not a fighter. I’m a lover. Especially when it comes to you.”

  She does a quick inhale and then licks her lips. When she does that tiny little thing with her tongue, my cock jerks and my pants suddenly feel too small. Our eyes latch on to each other’s and my hand reaches for hers. “Please forgive me for the way I treated you last night. I’ve no right to judge. Ever.”

  A slight nod from her lets me breathe easier. Lacing my fingers with hers, I say, “So tell me about your audition.”

  “Oh, Ryder, I was so nervous. I don’t think I did very well because of that.”

  “The first ones are always the worst. Was this your first, by the way?”

  “Yes. And I’m sure I ferked it up.”

  I have to laugh. “Skylina, do you never say the word fuck?”

  “Well, yeah. But only when I refer to the actual act.”

  “I see.” I laugh again. “So, this was your first? You’re bound to be nervous as hell. You need to do a lot of them.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what my friend says. She said that even if I’m not interested in the production, I should try out anyway because I need the experience.”

  “You should listen to your friend. She sounds very knowledgeable.”

  “So do you.” Her eyes drill mine.

  “Well,” I hedge, “it’s really only common sense. Like a job interview. The more you do it, the more desensitized you become.”

  “I suppose. Anyway, the tape totally helped. Thanks for doing that.”

  “I’m glad and you’re welcome.”

  “So, Ryder, what are we doing here?”

  She rips those very thoughts right out of my head.

  “Having coffee?” I dodge because this may be uncomfortable.

  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “What do you want to do here, Skylina?” />
  “What I want isn’t possible.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She looks around the coffee shop and then back at me. She now has a defeated look on her face. “You know my story. All the ugly details. Well, most of them anyway. I’m stuck and I’m not going to change. My mom … well, she is who she is and that’s that. I can’t walk away from her. I’ve tried, but I just can’t do it. So I’ll always be that dirty paid whore who earns her living to buy drugs for her mom’s habit. That’s why.”

  “Skylina, I’m sorry your mom is the way she is. But that’s not your only option. There are other ways.”

  She sneers, “Oh yeah. That’s right. You’ve been there. You know.”

  “Yes! I have. And there are places that can help.”

  “That’s all fine and good Ryder, but the person has to want to go to those places. My mom doesn’t want to go. You ought to know that. Sometimes I think she’s gotten to the point now where she doesn’t even know she has a problem anymore.”

  “Let me at least talk to her or meet her.”

  Skylina is quiet for a second and then says, “No. That would go over like a damn bomb at the Macy’s parade. Can’t do it.”

  “So, we’re at an impasse.”

  She picks up her phone and checks the time. “I’ve gotta go. I promised my friend I’d stop by and I have a, er, work tonight.”

  My gut roils with the thought of her being with another man. “I don’t want you to be with any other guy.”

  “Your wants don’t count here, Ryder. Neither do mine. I do what I have to do. Not because I want to do it.”

  “Tell me again that you hate it.”

  “Every ferking minute of it.” She stares me straight on when she says it. And I nod in return. I watch her as she leaves and I decide there and then I know what I’m going to do.

  FIVE