Casting Down Imaginations

by LaShanda Michelle

  I began to pray out loud. It was the only thing I knew to do that would keep me from going insane.

  “She’s hallucinating,” I heard the assistant say.

  Dr. Eagleton said something about how he was tired of working on cracked out teenagers, but I didn’t care. I closed my eyes and went toward the light that was suddenly before me. It didn’t have to say anything. Its sovereignty was enough to send me to repentance.

  “I’m sorry,” I cried aloud to God. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  I couldn’t even put into words everything that I was apologizing for, but I knew that He understood. He knew it all, and I couldn’t pretend like He didn’t. My body began to jerk as I cried, but I wasn’t afraid. I was experiencing a release that I never experienced before, and I embraced it. I cried all the more at His amazing mercy. After everything—all of the lies, the sex, the stealing from Deacon, the murder, He was still willing to forgive me. And I couldn’t understand why.

  thirty two

  Anaya

  I sat on the couch watching television, drowning my sorrows in the bottle of vodka that I’d stolen earlier. It had been a rough week. Mr. Pier came by on Wednesday and got this month’s rent, which only left me with thirty three dollars in my account. I’d answered every ad in the newspaper that offered employment, only to be rejected because I had no formal training, no higher education, and no resume. My feet ached and I was tired. All I wanted to do was drink until I couldn’t think about finding a job anymore and fall asleep.

  Knock, knock.

  I took another swig from my bottle and got up to see who was knocking on my door. Through the peephole I saw a tall light-skinned man with dark brown braids twisted down his scalp. I didn’t have a clue who he was.

  “What?” I asked through the door and checked to make sure that it was locked.

  “Hey,” he said. “My name is Ayden, I live next door.”

  And? What do you want?

  “Yeah?” I asked with an attitude. I didn’t care if he was offended by me not opening the door. I didn’t know him, therefore I didn’t trust him.

  “Yeah… Well um, I was just wondering if you had a cup of sugar I could borrow,” he said. “I was just trying to make a batch of Kool-Aid and realized that I was all out.”

  I sighed. This fool was so lame. Did he really believe that tired “Can I borrow a cup of sugar?” crap was going to work on me? He probably saw me walk in earlier and this was his whack plan to get next to me. I could already tell he was weak.

  “Hello?” he asked when I didn’t respond. “You still there?”

  Halfway drunk, I walked back to the couch and turned the volume up on the TV. I didn’t answer him. He didn’t deserve an answer from me. He was just another dog out to get one thing from me, and I wasn’t about to make that same mistake.

  **********

  I shifted the grocery bags in my arms around in order to unlock the door to my apartment just as Ayden exited his.

  “Oh, let me help you with that,” he said, and hurried over to assist me.

  “That’s okay.”

  He came over anyway and took the bags from me. “I got you,” he said, and waited patiently for me to unlock the door and go inside.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I told him.

  “It’s cool,” he insisted. “I don’t mind.”

  I gave his body a review. He wasn’t bad looking, but he wasn’t my type, which made it all the more easier for him to be ignored.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the groceries from him.

  “You’re welcome. What’s your name again?”

  “I never told you my name,” I answered while I blocked the door to make sure he didn’t try to come in.

  His eyebrows went up in surprise, but he gave me a smile. “You mean you not gon’ tell me?”

  I shook my head no and closed the door in his face.

  thirty three

  Anaya

  I smoothed the hot iron over my crisp white shirt in preparation for the day that was ahead of me. I was going to answer three help wanted ads in person, and I needed to look my best.

  “Anyone home?” a grizzly voice asked from outside my front door. They knocked twice and waited.

  Scared, I held my breath and crept to the living room window and peeked outside. A moving truck from the furniture rental place was parked outside my apartment.

  “Damn,” I whispered under my breath, recalling the numerous messages they’d left on my phone seeking the overdue payment I owed them. Our written agreement stated that if my payment was over five days late they would confiscate what was theirs. Today was the tenth day.

  “Anyone home?” the man asked again. “Open up. We came to get our stuff.”

  I sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, thankful that I hadn’t turned any music or the television on. The only noise came from the iron that was hissing from its own steam.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do. My rent was due today, and I only had three hundred dollars to my name, and I got that from Deacon Patterson to buy food and gas for the rest of the month.

  I waited quietly for the person to leave and remained perfectly still until I heard the moving truck outside drive away. Afterward I got up and finished getting dressed, then made myself a turkey sandwich to take along with me for lunch, along with a small bag of chips and an apple. I was just about to leave when there was another knock on my door.

  “Open up, Anaya,” Mr. Pier said. “We need to talk.”

  “Crap,” I grunted, and reluctantly went over to the door.

  “I still haven’t received your rent,” he snapped at me once I opened the door.

  “I know, and I’m sorry,” I told him. “Can I have another extension?”

  “Another extension? I’m trying my best to be patient with you, but this is the second time that this has happened.”

  “I know, but I’m supposed to be getting some money any day now,” I lied to him. “And then I’ll pay you.”

  His eyes pierced through me. “Friday,” he said in a warning tone. “Or you’re out. You got that?” He stomped away angrily before I could say anything else.

  I slammed the door behind him, mad that my day started with drama. After taking a few minutes to calm down, I finished getting ready and left in hopes of finding a job.

  **********

  The mixed scents of alcohol, men’s cologne, and cigarette smoke filled my nostrils as soon as I stepped into Club Prestige, the place that was hopefully going to be my place of employment soon. The ad in the paper said they needed waitresses. I wasn’t twenty one, but I was praying whoever was in charge wouldn’t care.

  “Can I help you?” a woman behind the bar asked.

  “Hi. My name’s Anaya. I’m here in response to the ad in the newspaper.”

  “You trying to be a waitress?” she asked with a frown.

  I nodded.

  “You gotta be twenty-one to be a waitress here.”

  “I am twenty-one.”

  Her frown remained, knowing full well that I was lying. “Upstairs,” she pointed behind her. “Go down the first hallway on your left. At the very end of the hall is the owner, Jeff. He’s the one you want to talk to.”

  “Thank you.”

  She went back to her work without responding. I followed the directions she gave and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” a man’s voice said from the other side.

  I made sure my clothes were straight and my hair was smooth, then opened the door. Sitting behind a massive desk in a very large room was one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen. I was caught off guard. I was expecting to see a middle aged white man, but instead he was young and black. He had honey chocolate skin that I usually didn’t find attractive, but his was working in his favor. That and the diamond in his ear that was big enough to pay my rent for the rest of the year.

  “May I help you?” he asked in a deep voice. He didn’t looked up from the thick stack of paper on
his desk.

  I cleared my throat. “Are you Jeff?”

  “That’s me. How can I help you?”

  “I’m Anaya. I’m here to apply for the waitressing position.”

  “Do you have a resume?” he asked, still looking down.

  “Um… About that…”

  He kept working. “The ad said to bring a resume. Where is your resume?”

  I felt stupid, but I was determined to get this job. My rent was due at the end of the week, and if I couldn’t pay it then I was going to have to move back home with Deacon. I couldn’t face him and tell him that I spent all of his money. I needed this job.

  “I don’t have one,” I said. “But I know that I can do this job. I’m very smart, and I have—”

  “Have you been a waitress or server before?”

  “No.”

  He looked up at me for the first time. “Are you twenty-one?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will your ID say the same thing?”

  My eyes drifted to the floor. I couldn’t answer him. I was so embarrassed.

  “You’re underage,” he said. “I can’t hire you. Please leave.”

  “Please,” I begged. “I really need this job.”

  “I can’t hire you.”

  “I’ll do anything. I’ll cook, I’ll clean.”

  He ignored me and returned to his work. I turned to leave, but then he stopped me.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “How old are you.”

  “Nineteen.”

  His eyes went up and down my body. “You in good shape?”

  I nodded.

  He stood up from his desk and circled around me. He smelled good, but he was making me nervous.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “You ever think about dancing?”

  “Dancing? You mean stripping? I don’t do that.”

  “Relax. I didn’t say anything about stripping. I said dancing.”

  I shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “You said you need a job, right?” he asked, and sat back down. “One of my girls quit last night, and I need a replacement. The money’s good, if you’re interested.”

  I was.

  “What all does the job entail?” I asked, moving closer to his desk.

  “Dancing, catering to the needs of clients. You got rhythm?”

  I smacked my lips. “Rhythm?”

  He flashed a smile at me. “Yes, rhythm. How you gon’ be a dancer and you can’t dance?”

  “I can dance,” I told him. “I just ain’t tryin’ to take my clothes off.”

  He smirked. “Come here,” he said.

  I nervously obliged. Once I was behind his desk he took me by the hand and led me through a door behind him. What I assumed was a storage closet was actually another room entirely. It was mostly windows, besides the oversized black couch that was against one wall, a treadmill in the corner, and a gigantic plasma screen TV mounted on the wall next to us.

  “You see this room?” he asked. “This is where I view this club. Walk over here with me.”

  I followed him across the room. Together we watched what was happening downstairs. There were only a few people there besides the bartender. Someone was there buffing the floor, and another was on the other side of the club cleaning tables.

  “This is my establishment,” Jeff told me. “Here we only entertain the most distinguished. I’m talking about football players, basketball players. Actors when they come into town. And because of that I only hire the best. You look like you could handle it. And from the way you were talking just a minute ago, you sound like you could really use the money.”

  “What all would I have to do?” I asked, still not sure of him.

  He parted his smooth full lips and smiled at me. “It all boils down to customer service, babe. Customer service. You just stand there, dance a lil’ bit, and make the customer smile. You make the customer smile, then you make me smile. You make me smile, then we’re all happy.”

  “How much does it pay?”

  “Enough,” he said. “It’s really all on you and how much you willing to make. Some of my girls walk outta here with a thousand dollars a night. But they work hard for it though. Is that something you interested in?”

  A thousand dollars a night! Hell yeah!!!

  “Possibly,” I answered, trying to remain cool.

  He walked over to the TV on the wall and pushed a button. Loud music filled the room.

  “Show me you can dance,” he shouted to me.

  “What?”

  “Come on,” he yelled, and began to dance in his place. “I’ll dance with you just so you won’t feel stupid.”

  “I’m not dancing with you!” I yelled back, flirting a little bit.

  “Come on,” he flirted back. “Just a little bit. I promise you I won’t bite.”

  “No!” I yelled over the music.

  He sauntered over to me in step with the music and took me by the hand. “Come on. Let me see what you got.”

  I stood still for a moment, but then started to move with him. Because he was fine, I did a little bit more, showing him a few of the tricks I had. Even though it was a little awkward, I needed a job, and no one else was beating down any doors to hire me.

  When he was pleased by what he saw, he turned the music off and escorted me back to his office.

  “You want the job?” he asked.

  I hesitated. “And I don’t have to take my clothes off?”

  “Dang, girl. What kind of establishment do you think I’m running? This ain’t no strip joint. This is for hosting only. Private parties and things like that.”

  “How often will I get paid?”

  “You get your money every night when you leave. It’s not a salary position. You dance for tips. The club takes thirty percent of what you get, though.”

  “Thirty percent?” I asked. I didn’t like that number. “That’s a little steep, don’t you think?”

  “No,” he answered with a straight face. “Not considering all that we do for you. Unlike most dancers, here you’ll get your own locker downstairs, your own shower, and your own security guard assigned just to you. At Prestige I like to make sure my girls are safe. Plus you know you gon’ get great tips because of our customer base. ‘Round here my girls dance for six figure income clients.”

  I sighed, still weighing my options. I guessed thirty percent wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like he was trying to take half.

  “When can I start?”

  He licked his lips and smiled at me. “That’s what I’m talking about. You can start Friday night. Come in around eight. And oh yeah, wear something sexy.”

  A thousand dollars a night, a thousand dollars a night, a thousand dollars a night…

  “Okay,” I said to Jeff. “I’ll be here.”

  “Good. You’ll want to come in through the back door. Security will let you in and will show you to the dressing room.”

  “And I get paid Friday, right?” I asked, thinking of my rent that was due the same day before 5pm.

  He saw the concern on my face. “Yeah, why? What’s the matter?”

  I didn’t want to blurt out all of my business since I just met him, especially since he was so fine. But there was no since in putting up a show. I was in trouble and I needed help, and he was in the position to give it to me.

  “My rent is due on Friday,” I told him. “Is it possible for me to get an advance?”

  His eyes went up and down my body again. I was uncomfortable now, feeling like a piece of meat.

  “How much you talking about?” he asked, licking his lips when his eyes stopped at my breasts.

  “Five hundred.”

  “Damn, girl. That’s a lot of money to be asking for. You haven’t even started working yet.”

  “I know, I know. But I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need the money.”

  He sat and thought for a few moments. “Alright,” he finally said. “I’m gon’ do this
for you, but only ‘cause you look good. I think you got the potential to make all this back over the weekend.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

  “Hold on, there,” he said, as he pulled out his checkbook. “I’m not gon’ just give you this money. Oh no, baby. Things don’t work like that. Not around here they don’t.”

  There was a catch. There always was.

  “I need you to run an errand for me.”

  I frowned. “What kind of errand?”

  “Nothing crazy,” he told me. “I just need you to drop something off for me at this address.”

  He scribbled on a piece of paper and gave it to me.

  “This is across town,” I said, recognizing the area.

  “I’ll throw in five dollars for gas,” he smiled at me, then reached under his desk and pulled out a small overnight bag.

  “What is it?”

  His face became stern. “Don’t ask questions.”

  I was uncomfortable. This didn’t seem like a good idea.

  “Sorry,” I apologized.

  He tried to change his tone, but clearly I had struck a nerve.

  “Take the bag to the address,” he told me. “It’s a gated community, so you won’t be able to get inside. They have a guard at the gate named Mike. Give the bag to Mike. He’ll give me a call when he gets the bag to let me know you did your job. When you finish, meet me back here, and I’ll give you the check.”

  He stared at me as if he were waiting on me to move. I guess I wasn’t supposed to ask any questions.

  “I don’t know about this,” I managed to tell him, even though I was scared to.

  “What is there not to know,” he said. “You don’t expect me to just give you five hundred dollars, do you? You gotta be on payroll, girl. That means working, helping me make my money. And this is helping me make my money.”

  I stood there, torn with indecision. One part of me screamed that something wasn’t right about the situation and I should find another way to solve my problems. But the other part of me said I needed the money to pay my rent.

  “Fine,” I said, and took the bag from him. “I’m coming right back for my money.”