I see her. She’s dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl and is one of the more modest of the girls that are standing outside of the pawn shop that their pimp is probably running. She has long legs that are skinny enough that she looks young enough. Her thighs aren’t chunky or too muscular, just the way I want them. She’s got a small ass, not as plump as I’d like, but it’ll do. She needs to do some squats. Her breasts aren’t large, which is fine with me. Pulled back in a ponytail is her platinum blonde hair. I slowly pull into the parking lot and park right next to her. She’s chewing bubblegum and has way too much make-up on. Someone told her that was what men want, and maybe some do, but I don’t.
She looks at the car with her small, dark eyes, wondering no doubt if the man inside is a killer or a rapist. I can’t imagine the fear that must go into that line of work. It makes women hard. It makes them cold, creatures of stone that can only find comfort among themselves. They ruin themselves by placing their lives in the hands of strangers who care nothing for them. It is a life of suffering and pain that can only be ended by their choosing. I don’t understand it. I don’t think I ever want to. They have a habit of turning into dark, monstrous things that hardly resemble humans.
“You looking for something?” the girl asks as I roll down the window. She approaches the window bravely, confident that the others around here will protect her. I feel dozens of eyes on me as she leans over and gives me an ample opening to look at her cleavage.
“I am,” I tell her, keeping my eyes out on the street. I wonder how many times Vice has seen me out here and decided to look the other way.
“You got the money?” she asks, blowing a small bubble and popping it. It’s an annoying habit and it pisses me off a little, but I let the aggravation melt back down. I’m frustrated with the case, not with her. I reach into my pocket and fish out the money, handing it to her. She takes it and counts it quickly before smiling at me and walking around the car. I roll up the window before leaning over and opening the door for her. She sits down in the passenger seat and immediately I can smell the stale tequila and pot on her. I suppose that I’d want to get high before I went out on the streets too. “No kissing, no biting, no hitting, and I’m not into ass play, so you take that up with another girl if you’re interested in that. Got it?”
“Crystal clear,” I say to her.
“Alright,” she smiles at me. It’s not a pretty smile. It’s a smile that’s trying too hard to be a little too easy. The art of being a good whore is to make me feel like she wants to fuck me, which is never the case. This girl is trying to master that, but she still has a long way to go. “You can pull around behind the shop.”
I put my Shelby in reverse before backing out and pulling around, taking the car around the pawn shop into an alley with a particularly tough looking group of men lingering around. In the darkness, it’s hard to tell if they’re black or Mexican, but they’re definitely not white. The Avenue isn’t white boy property. The girl points to an open spot and I pull in, put the car in park, and kill the engine.
“What would you like?” she asks me.
“Take your top off,” I tell her coldly.
She doesn’t do it nicely. She has no skill with this. She’s probably used to guys having at her the moment the car comes to a halt. I’m not that eager. I’m not that hungry—not yet. I watch her unbutton her shirt and slowly pull it off without any grace or art to it. Her small breasts hang free. They’re pointy and I wonder if she’s ever considered getting implants. That might elevate her to a higher status among the Avenue’s community. She smiles at me and gives her breasts a burlesque shake. I’m not amused. She looks at me with a frown.
I reach down and undo my belt and open my pants, pulling my penis out. In the pale light in the back of the pawn shop and the darkness, it doesn’t look that impressive, but it’s made quite a few ladies happy. She looks at me and lets me grab her head and slowly guide her in. The whole thing is prefaced by her warm breath blowing over me. I lean back my head and pull her closer so that she has to adjust in her seat. She puts her knees on the seat and leans over, getting comfortable as she takes it all. I can feel her warm tongue licking me and her lips wrapping around me. It feels great. With my eyes closed, I reach for her breasts, giving them a gentle, light squeeze before playing with her nipples as she continues to work me. She’s running her hand up and down my shaft, making me like steel.
“You sure you don’t want more?” she looks up at me.
I open my eyes and shake my head at her. I don’t want her to talk. She has a smoker’s voice already and I can’t stand it. While she goes back to work, I stretch my hand out and feel under her short skirt. I feel that she hasn’t shaved for a few days and her pubes are prickly. When I find her slit, I discover that it’s not warm, it’s not wet, it’s not anything. She’s not enjoying this. I lean back and wonder what it’s like to fuck someone who wants to fuck me. I close my eyes and let her keep going. She’s pretty good at her job. When I release, I give her no warning and I can feel her pull away. My hand on her head keeps her there. I’m not shooting all over my car. She can take it.
When I’m done, she leans back in the seat, her lips puckered and her eyes wide with disapproval. She throws open the door, thankfully, and spits my load all across the back alley. I wonder how much of that alley is coated in sperm. I put myself away and zip up my pants. I fish another thirty out of my pocket and a card. It’s for the Harem. I hand both of them to her.
“Go here after you sign up for a gym membership,” I tell her. “Talk to Ricardo and tell him that King sent you. He’ll get you a job that gets you off the street. You’ll still have to fuck and dance, but at least you’ll be off the Avenue.”
“Maybe I like it here,” she says to me with a certain offense in her tone, like I’m questioning her way of life. This isn’t a fucking way of life. This is survival and she’s nowhere near the top of the food chain. She’s going to end up dead in a drive-by.
“No one likes it here.” I lean over, reaching across her lap for the door. Throwing it open, I give her the polite gesture to get the fuck out of my car. She gets out and shuts the door, not slamming it. As I pull away, I notice that she’s actually looking at the car and I feel a sense of accomplishment. There’s my civic duty for the night. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep in peace.
9
“Is that all you can think of?” The officer says as he looks up from his notebook. I can’t remember what his name is, but it’s something Mexican, just like he is. I’m not surprised that they sent a Mexican. It feels like half of this city is full of Mexicans. I shake my head and look around the interior of the station, expecting that there would be a little more than just two cops. Why did they just send one car? A man fucking put a gun to my head and the police send one car? What was that all about?
God, was his name Sanchez or something like that? Why can’t I remember anything? I look at him as if he’s a ghost. My whole world feels different. I think it’s the adrenaline or the shock of everything starting to wear off, but I definitely do not feel normal. I feel like I’m going to throw up, or cry, or something. There’s something wrong with me. Did I die in the shooting? Am I alive? I look at the officer “No,” I say to him in a hollow voice that doesn’t sound like my own. Is this all they’re going to do for me? Is this everything they can do for me? What if he comes back? What if he puts that gun to my head again and this time he pulls the trigger?
I look over to where Courtney is seated while the second officer, a white guy with a buzz cut, is interviewing Mr. Chen and getting whatever information they think they can gleam from that worthless piece of trash. The moment he came barging through those doors, twenty minutes before the police finally decided to show up, he was threatening me with pay cuts until the money I lost was paid back. Forget catching the guy and getting the money back legally, no, he was just going to dock my pay. This is my life now. That’s fine. I don’t think I’m going to be coming back to work again. How ca
n I bring myself to return to this place? It’s hell. I almost died here.
Courtney isn’t nearly as shaken up as I am. I’d forgotten about her completely for a while, calling her out of the back room after already having called Mr. Chen and the police. She’s sitting in a chair looking at me with sad, concerned eyes. We rehearsed our story before Mr. Chen got here. She would be standing just out of sight of the camera, looking at the condoms because she and Tommy were going to get busy tonight. When the gunman showed up, she passed out in terror. It was the only way to make it look like she wasn’t a threat when the gunman ordered me to empty the register. She didn’t like the idea of sounding like a fainter but I told her that the police would bring questions and those questions will have answers that might make their way back to Tommy. At that point, she agreed to say anything that I told her. She’d looked away from me when she said she was sorry. I wonder if she still sees me as a man. Maybe when this is done and I get my mind right, I can have another go at her, but not now.
Outside, the sun has pretty much evaporated into the horizon and darkness has descended upon the world beyond the glass front I’m so used to staring out. The billboard that serves as the welcoming sign to Whispering Hills is illuminated by two of five lights that are supposed to be working. There’s nothing appealing about the porch lights that buzz in hues of pale blue and harsh orange. I’m going to go home soon and I’m going to be stuck in that trailer with Mom and her hacking. There will be no club tonight, no Courtney, no anything. I look over at Courtney and she offers me a soft, sad sort of smile.
“What about the car?” the officer asks me. “Did you get a license plate?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I was pretty worked up by all of this and when I saw Courtney on the ground, she was my first priority.”
“That’s totally understandable,” the officer nods to me. “What about a description? Do you remember what it looked like?”
“No,” I shake my head again. “Mr. Chen has a whole bunch of cameras outside that work. They must have picked it up.”
“Yeah,” the officer grins. “He’s got a whole bunch outside, but only one inside. Not the brightest bulb in the box.”
I smile and Courtney laughs softly. The officer looks at her and his eyes linger a little longer than I like. What the fuck is he thinking? Is he checking out a victim? He turns back and catches me staring but he doesn’t react to being caught. He just reaches into his breast pocket and fishes out a card and hands it to me. Officer Miguel Ruiz. Sanchez? I was way off. I look at the card and then look back up to him and he greets my gaze with a warm, friendly smile. Sure, he showed up twenty minutes after I called in and with only one other officer, but hey, at least he’s got a warm smile.
“If you think of anything, Ted.” Officer Ruiz extends his hand for me to shake it. I shake his hand, but it lacks the energy, the terror, and the sensation of the gunman’s touch. It feels distant, like there’s a buffer all around me and I can no longer feel a thing. It has me worried. It has me on edge. I look at him and he gives me another one of his trademark smiles. “Don’t hesitate to give me a call. And don’t worry about your boss docking your pay. I’m sure we’ll catch the guy. He robbed a gas station in broad daylight and we’ve got his license, his face, and his car all on camera. We’ll have him and the money back in no time.”
“A lot of experience in robberies like this?” I ask cautiously, too afraid to feed the blossoming hope inside of me.
Officer Ruiz gives me a practiced line that is clearly a lie that he’s rehearsed over and over with his other fellow officers. “Yeah,” he flips his notepad closed and stuffs it in his breast pocket. “He’s a desperate sort of guy to do something as stupid as this. I’m sure we’ll have him by morning. Don’t worry about it. You folks are safe now.”
The white, buzz cut officer gives Courtney a handshake and just nods at me as they both leave the station. One of them is talking on his radio and the other is checking his cellphone. Clearly they’re off to help another victim twenty minutes late. I look over at Courtney, who is still offering me her quiet, sad smile. In the doorway, short Mr. Chen is standing with a scowl written across his face. He’s looking at me with lightning and fire behind his dark, little eyes.
“You are in big trouble, Teddy Boy.” Mr. Chen has a habit of calling me that when he’s angry, thinking that it gives him superiority to mock my name. I don’t feel intimidated by it now, just like I’ve never felt intimidated by it. “You are going to have to work double shifts to make up for the money you lost me—”
“You know what, Chen,” I say with a disgusted tone in my voice. I don’t know where this boldness is coming from, but I like it. I feel powerful standing over him like a giant, ready to squish a trembling rabbit. “Fuck you and fuck this job. I quit.”
“What?” Chen snaps as I hold out my hand gesturing to Courtney. She walks out ahead of me with a broad, embarrassed grin across her pretty face. I’m not sure if she’s embarrassed for me, or if she’s embarrassed for Chen. I don’t really care. I’m alive, I don’t’ have a bullet in my head, and there’s a beautiful girl that likes me. Why should I feel terrible? Besides, it’s not like my life is going anywhere important with Mr. Chen’s gas station. Hell, maybe I will have that date with Courtney tonight. “You can’t quit!” Chen shrieks as I follow Courtney by twenty feet through the doors. “You owe me money, Teddy Boy! You going to have to pay me back!”
I flip him the bird as the door closes and Courtney laughs, still ahead of me. I think she’s embarrassed to be caught in the middle of all of this. I look at her in the harsh light of the gas station’s rustic exterior and catch up to her as she stops and turns back to face me. As she turns, she looks at me with wonderstruck eyes, distant and pleased.
“I’m going to go home and get ready,” I tell her with a sound of determination in my voice, like an explorer headed out on a grand and dangerous expedition that I’m inviting her along on. She looks at me with a warm expectancy in her eyes as she smiles knowingly. I’m going to fuck her tonight, but only after I’ve treated her like the woman she deserves to be treated as. “You’re going to go home and put on the nicest dress you have, and I’m going to take you out dancing.”
“Ted, I’m underage,” she tells me softly.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her with a reassuring smile. “I’m going to take care of everything.”
As I walk her across the street, I decide that I’m not even going to buy her alcohol. I’m going to take her out and we’re going to have fun. I’m crazy and excited and terrified all at once because I’m alive and I survived an armed gunman who stole all of my money and made me quit my job. If that’s not a reason to go celebrate, then I don’t have a fucking clue what a good reason is. I escort her through the gates of Whispering Hills and together we walk side by side until we’re at her house. I remember hearing the rumors that her dad used to molest her before being locked up for assault. I wonder if that’s true, but it doesn’t actually matter anymore. I think I’m in love with her. Why didn’t I talk to her sooner? I feel a shadow descend upon me as I think about that. Why did I wait so long to enjoy life with her? Clearly she’d been interested for a very long time.
She walks up the steps onto her wooden porch, standing in the shadow of the awning, before she turns and looks at me. I should follow her up the steps and pull her into my arms and kiss her, but I don’t. She smiles sweetly and leans over the porch railing before she blows me a kiss. Her parents aren’t going to care that we’re dating. Tommy will, but I think I can handle Tommy. I know how to fight pretty well. She turns with a little twist and bounce, pulling the door open to her trailer and I watch her ass swing from side to side as she steps into the home, telling her that I’ll be back in one hour and that she better be ready for the night of her life. I mean it too. I’m not going to pull any fast ones. I’m certain that I’m going to get into her pants, but I’m going to play fair. I’m not looking to just fuck her and dump
her. No, I want Courtney. I actually want Courtney for a very long time. Maybe forever.
Then why did it take me so long to ask her out?
In fact, why did it take me so long to even notice her?
I furrow my brow at the thoughts and make my way toward Mom’s trailer. I can hear Mom hacking and gagging on her phlegm out on the asphalt that’s still boiling hot, even after the sun’s been down for two hours. I look at my watch. It’s almost midnight. She’s never awake this late. Ascending the steps, I pull open the screen door and step into the putrid smelling house that reeks of death, cigarettes, and phlegm. I wave my hand, trying to get a breath of fresh air before coughing. Mom is seated at the sofa, looking out the window. She’s been watching me approach since I entered the trailer park. She looks at me, over her disused and forgotten oxygen tank.
“You fucking Perkins’ daughter?” Mom’s voice is as hard as rocks scraping against one another, jagged, rough, ancient rocks. Her hair is falling out thanks to her medication and her skin is yellow enough to make her look like a lizard, especially in the pale glow of the television screen. I shudder at the sight of her. Why is she still alive?
“No,” I tell her.
“You like jailbait?” Mom growls before taking a half-assed drag off of her cigarette. She immediately begins to hack and cough before she spits a long, ropey line of phlegm into the bowl she keeps near the couch. That bowl is full of rancid, decaying phlegm. This is what I dropped out of college for. This is what I’ve been working my ass off with double shifts for over a year to save?
The Monster Within Page 8