by H. T. Night
Then the lights turned out and they left the room.
I went to the front of the hotel and was careful not to be seen. In a few moments, I looked down and saw the redheaded-woman slip into a taxi with the short Hispanic man.
I decided to follow the taxi from the sky. The taxi went about six blocks and made a left turn in front of a tiny, lit-up establishment. From the sky, I couldn’t make out what kind of business it was. It appeared to be some kind of bar. It had neon pink lights that read Roosters and Hens.
As I glided down, it became apparent what the business was. It was a massage parlor. I’d heard about these places in the Inland Empire. I could just imagine what kind of happy endings that these sorts of massages had in Mexico. I gathered this wasn’t a massage establishment but more of a whorehouse, with their blatant advertisement of half-naked girls in the window.
The man and woman stepped out of the taxi and he led her into the parlor. I noticed there were about six men outside hanging around the door, talking. Some looked big, but I knew if it had to come to it, I would have no problem taking them out.
Why was he taking her there? The only thing that made any sense is that he was forcing her to work there against her will, or he was trying to get in some kind of weird threesome with one of the girls.
I decided the only thing to do was to transition and go in myself. I flew a little way down the street where nobody could see me. I transitioned as I landed and then hurried over to the Rooster and Hens Massage Parlor.
“Hey buddy, we have some sexy girls for you!” One of the guys out front yelled to me as I came up to the door. “Just thirty dollars for a massage and the girls are beautiful!”
I nodded my head and he opened the sliding glass door for me and I went into the establishment. An older, pretty woman greeted me at the door. I assumed she was the madam.
“Hi there,” she said. “Do you want a massage?”
“Maybe,” I answered her.
“Why maybe? Aren’t you horny?” Yeah, she was definitely a madam and they were doing a little more here than just giving massages. There was no small talk with this woman. She was direct and to the point.
“Maybe,” I said. “I like girls with different color hair.”
“Huh?” she seemed confused.
I had a feeling I was sounding like a weirdo, so I decided to take a different approach. “Do you have any redheads?” I asked.
She smiled at me and said, “Actually, yes. We have a brand-new girl. Her name is Diane.”
“Diane?” I asked.
“Yes, she is tall and beautiful and she has bright red hair.”
I heard a car out front and I looked out the window and I saw a limousine pull up. It was a stretched, white Cadillac and it was beautiful. It reminded me of something a Texas oil tycoon would be riding in. It looked out of place on this street. The woman noticed the limo also and seemed concerned. Her eyes lit up. She yelled something in Spanish to the others. I knew if I was going to lock down Diane, I’d better do it quick.
Everyone in the place seemed interested in whoever was in this limousine. I looked out the window and saw a gray-haired, older Hispanic gentleman who was dressed slick make his way out of the limousine. He was a handsome fellow and looked like he could have been a celebrity. I didn’t want this guy to see me, so, I said, “I’ll see Diane?”
The madam looked at me and nodded. She seemed preoccupied, but nonetheless, she continued, “Yes, I’ll take you to the back.” She led me down a long hallway. I followed her to a room where about seven girls were sitting. There was the redheaded girl I had seen earlier in the night. She recognized me instantly.
I stared at her and smiled. “I choose her.” I walked over to her. She seemed scared and that was the last thing I wanted her to feel, so, I whispered to her, “Don’t worry, Diane. I’ll protect you. Just go along with it.” I wasn’t sure if she spoke English well, but I needed to say it. She smiled at me with uncertainty.
“Do you want the Jacuzzi room?” the madam asked.
“Sure. How much is one hour?”
“Sixty dollars,” she said. “It’s sixty dollars for the room and once you’re inside you can negotiate with the girl for whatever you like.” Oh, there would be negotiating, but not for sex. I planned on negotiating for her life.
“Okay,” I said.
Diane took my hand and the madam led us to a room in the back. I passed an open room by the hall that looked like there was a bar inside. I saw the man who had taken Diane to this place sitting on a stool at the bar. He was smoking a cigarette and drinking a bottle of tequila. There was a small bowl of lime wedges in front of him. I had no idea what his role in this place was. All I knew was, I wanted to get Diane to the room and talk to her.
The madam opened the door and let us in. “If you want to use the Jacuzzi, let me know.” She then said something to Diane in Spanish and left. Diane walked over to the door and locked it.
The room was bigger than I thought it would be. There was a Jacuzzi at one end of the room and a big giant bed at the other. I sat on the bed and smiled. I patted the bed. Diane shyly walked over and sat down.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Que?” she asked. I knew ‘que’ meant ‘what?’
“If you speak any English, this is the time to do so,” I said sternly, with a hint of compassion.
“Who are you?” she said, in reasonably understandable English.
“You do speak English?” I said, relieved.
“Yes.”
“Great!” I said, louder than I intended to.
“Shh! Keep your voice down.”
“Sorry.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m a guy who is trying to find someone in the city and I ran into you. I knew you needed my help.”
“How did you know that?” Diane seemed excited and scared at the same time. “Are you an angel?”
“Not quite,” I said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t. It could cost me my life.”
“Look, Diane. You can trust me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I don’t even know you,” she said, pretty worried.
She was right. She didn’t know me from Adam. “All I can tell you is I’m one of the good guys.”
“I’ve heard that line before.”
“Maybe so. But this time it’s the truth. I want nothing from you. Not sex, not money, nothing. I only want to help you, but only if you want it.” I leaned over and took her hand and held it. “All I can say is trust your heart.”
“Trust my heart? What does that mean?” Diane seemed pretty overwhelmed by how serious I had come on, but I knew I couldn’t waste any time if I was going to help her.
Diane looked me in the eyes. “Your eyes are bonita.”
“You think my eyes are pretty?” I asked.
“They are kind. They are friendly. I want to trust you. What is your name?”
“Josiah,” I said.
“That is a very pretty name.”
“It does roll off the tongue. Do you want my help?”
“Yes, I do, Josiah. Very much.” Tears began to drip from her eyes.
“Okay, you need to let me know how to help you.”
“The last person I trusted led me to this dreadful place.”
“You can trust me.” I put my arm around her and hugged her. The second I did so, she collapsed in my arms. I held her there and I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on with her. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She leaned back and breathed in deeply. “I’m a sex slave,” she said. “There’s no other way to put it.”
“Really?” I asked. “You’re not here by choice?”
“No.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Not long at all. Just the last couple of days.”
“I’m a bit confused. Please start from the beginning.”
“The man that you saw me with in the elevator is forcing me
to be here.”
“How can he do that?”
“I don’t have anyone. I once trusted him and now he makes me do this.”
“How do you know him?” I asked.
“He used to be my boyfriend. He lied to me about everything.”
“How did he lie to you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I bought an hour. Go for it.”
“You need to understand, Josiah. Anything I tell you can get me killed.”
I looked into her eyes. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I will make sure of that.”
She paused. “How? Who are you?”
“I’m Superman,” I said. “Or I might as well be. Tell me your story.”
She was a bit reluctant, but started to tell me about herself. “I moved across the border when I was thirteen years old. I was able to make it through Border Patrol with a fake I.D. I am the spitting image of my cousin who is a U.S. citizen.”
“It’s that easy to get across?” I asked.
“Sometimes. Other times, people do everything right and they still can’t cross over.”
“Okay, go on.”
“Eventually my whole family made it across; my mom, dad, and brothers and sisters. Living in the United States was an amazing time and everyone was so happy.”
“So, what happened?”
“When I turned eighteen, I had a huge party at our house in Anaheim. I was dumb enough to go out driving when I was completely wasted, and I got a DUI. While at the police station, they discovered that I wasn’t a U.S. citizen and they sent me back to Mexico.”
“That sucks.”
“You have no idea. I was all alone. Being that my entire family was across I wasn’t going to say anything to the authorities. I wasn’t going to get any of them in trouble. When I was asked about family, I lied and said they were all still in Mexico. They released me, right at the border in Tijuana. All I had on me was $100. That was when I ran into Miguel.”
“That’s the guy you came here with?” I asked.
“Yes. I met him about a year ago. He lives in Ensenada. He took me back to his home and treated me extremely good for the better part of a year. Everything was great up until two weeks ago.”
“What happened?”
“He was always shady, a hustler for the ages. But he turned his hustle on me. He started saying I needed to start providing, too. I told him I could make jewelry, but he didn’t want any part of that. He said that if I sold myself for sex it would be the best way to make good money. He knew the management here, and apparently, he had just been waiting for the right time when he was finally sick of me to bring me down here. In a way, I was lucky he didn’t bring me down here earlier.”
I was stunned. There was no luck about this story. It was heartbreaking. This girl had her eighteenth birthday in the U.S. and not even a year later, she’d been forced into prostitution and her family had no idea where she is.
“Wow,” I said. “What do you want to do?”
Tears began rolling down her face.
“Diane,” I said.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
“That’s not my name. My name is Sarahi.”
“Sarah-ee?” I asked slowly.
“Yes, it’s Sarah with an ‘i’ at the end. It’s my middle name.”
“What’s your first name?”
“I don’t want to tell you. I hate it.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s Yomaida.”
“Yomaida? I love that name.”
“I hate it.”
“It’s a beautiful name and that’s what I’m calling you. Yomaida,” I said. “I am getting you the hell out of here.”
“How?”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I want you to go into the bathroom and shut the door. I’ll be back here in about five minutes and we’re going to walk out of here.”
“How is that possible?”
“Just trust me.”
Yomaida looked terrified but she went into the bathroom anyway and closed the door. I guess she figured she had nothing to lose.
Game on.
I composed myself and stepped out of the room.
“That was quick. You still have 30 minutes,” the madam said. She was hanging around the door.
I smiled. “I’m thirsty.”
“There’s a bar down the hallway and to the left.”
“Thanks.” I walked down the hallway I went into the bar. Miguel, the guy who had made Yomaida’s life a living hell was still sitting at the bar drinking. There wasn’t anyone else in the bar, not even a bartender. I walked right up to that little fucker and looked that piece of shit in the face. He didn’t even bother to look up at me. I took a seat and sat right beside him.
“Hey there,” I said.
He finally looked up at me. “Can I help you?” he asked, in a thick accent.
“Sure can. You can leave.”
“Excuse me?”
“You speak English well, but your accent sucks.”
“It’s not an accent on this side of the border, gringo. I’d shut up if I were you.”
“But you’re not me and I like to talk. You want to know what I like to do more?”
He looked up at me.
“I like to kick motherfucker’s asses who take advantage of the less fortunate.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
I grabbed him by his head and threw it onto the table. I pressed down on his skull.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled out.
“I’m treating you like a little bitch. I want you to see how it feels to have someone make you do something you don’t want to do.”
“How do you even know me?”
“I know Yomaida, and guess what? She’s done working here and she’s done knowing you.” I pressed down on his skull, crushing it into the bar. He was weak and he knew he was in some serious trouble with me. I looked around and there still wasn’t anyone in the bar.
“Easy, man. I’m just making a living like everyone else.”
“Is that what you call what you do? Making a living?” I laughed out loud. “You make money on the backs of young girls you conned into thinking you were going to take care of them. Instead, you take what you want, and then you toss them to the curb and all they become is one of your providers.”
“I’m warning you, this isn’t the place for you to be a hero,” the man said and snapped his fingers while his head was still pinned to the bar. He was trying to catch the attention of anyone outside.
“It’s always the place for a hero.” I let his head up off the bar and slapped him in the face.
“What are you doing?”
I slapped him again.
“You have any idea who I am?” he screamed at me.
He then yelled something in Spanish. I cocked my hand back and slapped him one more time as hard as I could, sending him flying into the wall.
The guy stood up and brushed himself off. He was pissed and confused, but most of all he was the thing I wanted the most to see him; he was scared. “Fuck you, gringo!” He charged me and I let him get hold of me. I wanted to see how strong he was. He was weak, very weak. I grabbed him by his scrawny neck and threw him over the bar. He hit the back wall and crashed into all the bottles.
Then, as I expected, about ten guys made their way into the bar. Some had knives in their hands, but none had guns. I took my time as they came at me. Sometimes they came at me individually and sometimes in pairs. They were no match for someone of my skill level, and throw in the fact that I had supernatural powers, this was a walk in the park, even though there were ten of them. These weren’t vampires or werewolves; these were fat, overweight, humans. All it took was one or two punches and they were laid out unconscious. I spent about three minutes kicking the crap out of everyone in the bar until there was no one left to fight me. When all was said and done, the madam ran into the bar and looked at me.
She was terrified.
“You better get out of here. The police are coming!” she yelled at me.
“Well,” I said, “if your police are anything like the ones in the U.S., I could still get a massage before they get here.” I went into the room and opened the bathroom door.
“Let’s go, Yomaida.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope.”
I walked Yomaida out the front door. She peeked into the bar as we passed the room and did a double take at all the bodies lying on the ground. Before we reached the door, I passed the rich, gray-haired man. He didn’t seem at all shocked at what had just happened. He must have stayed back and just observed. He nodded his head at me, almost as if he approved of what I was doing.
Once we were outside, I could hear sirens. “Okay, Yomaida,” I said. “This is the part you are going to need to trust me.” I grabbed her around her petite waist.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Like I said, you’re going to have to trust me.”
Then I flew up in the air holding Yomaida tightly. She only screamed a little bit at first, and then she was just taking it all in, a big smile on her face and stars in her eyes for me. It was your classic Superman and Lois Lane moment. She was scared and vulnerable and I had just saved the day.
Chapter Nine
“What is going on, Josiah?” she asked, holding me tightly as we flew across the sky.
“It’s exactly what I told you from the beginning. I told you I’d protect you.”
As I flew higher, I could see the terror spilled over Yomaida’s face. “Who are you? Are you sure you’re not an angel?”
“I’m something,” I laughed. “Just hold on tight, I’ll make sure your life is extremely safe.”
I flew above the clouds and headed north. I knew what I was doing was against the law, but so is human trafficking. Sometimes what is right is not necessarily the law of the land.