The best thing of all is it’s supervised to prevent crime.
“Thank you. This is great.” I smile for the first time in I can’t remember how long. My face aches from it.
The man and woman, who check me in, take me to my cot, and at the end of it is a small locker with a lock on it. They give me a key.
“You can keep your things in here if you’d like. We don’t put up with any drugs or alcohol, so if you feel the need, we’ll ask you not to stay.”
“Oh, I don’t do drugs. My mom, she died from that stuff so I’ll never do them.”
The woman offers me a kind smile and pats my shoulder.
“Honey, you need to eat. Why, you’re nothing but skin and bones.”
I shrug. “It’s been a little tight, you know.” The truth is, food hasn’t been at the top of my list.
But her eyes glance down. “Well, you’re not just eating for you now, are you?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not.” My cheeks heat because she’s the first person who’s noticed I’m pregnant.
“Come with me.” I follow her to the kitchen where she makes me a turkey sandwich and gives me a glass of ice-cold milk. “Now, I want you to eat every bite of this.” She puts a hand on her hip, giving me the idea it’s not up for discussion.
“Thank you.” I wolf the sandwich and milk down. Then she gives me three Oreos.
“May I have some more milk, please?”
“I think you may.” She grins as she refills my glass. “Nothing like Oreos and milk, is there?”
“No, ma’am. My mom used to give me these. I haven’t had any since she passed.”
The taste, the texture, and the fact that I’m sitting at a table with a woman my mom’s age makes me happy for the first time since that horrible day they stole me away from her.
“So, when’s your little one due?”
My happy moment is gone. “I’m not really sure.”
“Haven’t you seen a doctor?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You have to.”
I lower my eyes. “I ... I can’t. Not yet.” I’m not eighteen yet. Until I turn legal age, they would send me back to Hell, and he would kill me and the baby. Less than three weeks is all I have. Surely, I can make it until then.
“Does your father know?”
I wipe my mouth and say, “I don’t have a father, ma’am.”
“I see. And the baby’s father?”
“Uh, he doesn’t know. He wouldn’t want it anyway.”
“How old are you, honey?”
I stiffen. “I’m eighteen.”
“Okay. Well, if you want me to go to the doctor with you, just let me know.” She pats my back again.
“I will. And thank you.”
I need to get out of here. She’s only trying to help, but I can’t have her snooping into my business. What if she finds out I’m not eighteen yet and tries to find the father of my baby?
I spend one night, fill my belly with as much food as I can, and leave money for them under my pillow in the morning when I go to work. I won’t take any chances and come back here.
Parking lots turn out to be my friends. I discover that sleeping under cars is especially useful. No one sees you, and they’re great shelter from rain, which Phoenix rarely gets. But even dew can be bothersome. They also protect you from chilly breezes. It’s not summer, so the temperature drops at night.
On my eighteenth birthday, I buy myself a cupcake. It’s the first time I’ve eaten cake since Mom left this earth. It’s a sad day because it brings back all those memories, but it’s a cause for celebration too. FD is no longer a threat to me.
I waltz into work, with a smile for the first time ever. My boss notices it and asks what the occasion is.
“Today is my birthday.”
“Happy birthday, Millie.”
“Thank you.”
“How old?”
“I’m eighteen.”
His jaw drops.
“I’m sorry. I only did it to protect myself.”
He stares at my pregnant belly and asks, “Does it have anything to do with that?”
“It has everything to do with this.”
He scratches his chin. “Well, I have to say you’re one of the best workers we’ve ever had. You’ll get no complaints from me.”
“Thanks.”
My boss tells me about a cheap place where I can live. It’s a room with a kitchenette, but it’s safe. I also go to the doctor. Since I don’t have insurance, I have to file for Medicaid. It takes a little while, but I eventually get it. Since my boss is essentially paying me under the table, I have no income to claim, which helps.
My boss figures out there’s more to my story than meets the eye, but he doesn’t pressure me for details. I work at the motel until I go into labor. It happens while I’m at work. One of the other employees drives me to the hospital. I walk in holding my belly because I never imagined it would hurt so bad.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be better when we give you an epidural,” the nurse explains.
“I hope so because this is awful.” I’ve taken a lot of beatings in my day, but this is pretty bad. What’s worse is I’m alone and scared to death. Turns out, the delivery is full of complications, or that’s what they tell me. But what happens afterward is even more horrible. My baby is born with a critical congenital heart defect, specifically pulmonary atresia. He has to have surgery immediately.
As I’m lying there after the delivery, I hear the doctor ask, “What are the Apgars?” There’s a sudden scrambling. A few minutes pass and then they tell me the bad news.
The doctor pats my arm. “I’m sorry, but we really need to get him to surgery. Fast.”
I barely have time to hold my tiny boy, to love him, before they carry him off.
All the feelings of being torn away from my mom slam back into me. My chest explodes with searing pain. All the beatings I endured, the abuse, the molestation I endured, don’t compare to the emotions I’m experiencing. And I have no one to talk to about it. I never cultivated any friendships in school. Rusty left home from what I saw on Facebook and joined the Navy. I’ve kept to myself at work, not getting involved with any of the others to keep my identity a secret, so there isn’t a soul or a shoulder to lean on. I’m lying on that stupid bed, my legs still in the stirrups, without a clue of what to do.
Except for one thing. I talk to Mom. I don’t know if she hears me, but I talk anyway. I tell her everything—how I hate that she used drugs and couldn’t give them up. How my life turned rotten on account of it. How all I want is for her to be here right now and tell me what to do and how to handle this. I imagine her sitting next to me, giving me advice.
“Honey, I’m sorry, so sorry for the way things turned out. I was weak and never deserved a beautiful daughter like you. But right now, you have to have faith in something. It’s out of your hands now. You must believe that your baby boy is going to be fine.”
I latch onto those words with everything I have and when they tell me he made it through, tears course down my cheeks like an overflowing creek.
They finally let me see him and I weep for him all night. He’s so tiny with so many tubes and wires attached to him, I don’t know where they end and he begins. I touch his itty-bitty finger and stroke it with my much larger one, letting him know I’m here with him. I don’t want to leave, but they make me, telling me I need to rest.
For a week, it’s touch and go, but he ends up pulling through. Only the doctors say it won’t last. My baby will soon require a heart transplant. How in the world will I ever be able to afford the bills for that? I can scarcely keep food on the table and a roof over my head as is.
Two months later, desperate for money, I see an ad about auditions for a film. It doesn’t give much more information other than that. I need a job, because my funds are gone. I’m eking by on saltines and water. My breast milk is long gone so my baby’s on formula now, which is pricey. I’ll be skin and bones before l
ong.
I answer the call for the audition. They shuffle me from one room to the next until I land in the director’s office.
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?” At first, I’m sure I misunderstand him. And then I wonder what the hell kind of place this is.
“If you’re going to do this, you’ll have to strip, you know.”
Suspicion crests in my brain. “What kind of films are these?” At this point, I am so stupidly naïve, I have no idea what’s going on.
“They didn’t tell you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Welcome to porn, baby.” He chuckles.
“Porn? Oh, I can’t possibly do that.”
“You’re desperate for money, right?”
I stare at the man. He doesn’t look like someone I’d imagine would make porn movies. He looks like a grandfather.
“You can’t make money close to this anywhere else for such little work.”
“How little?”
“One or two days a week, at most. We’re really not that sleazy either.”
“How much?”
“Five thousand a week. To start.”
Holy moly, that’s a lot of money. I think about baby Jack and his need for a new heart. Not to mention I wouldn’t have to search for daycare because I wouldn’t be working that much.
“I know you need the money, right? Just take off your clothes so we don’t waste any more of each other’s time.”
I make a quick decision and strip. The only man who’s ever seen me naked was my foster dad. Even his sleazy friends never saw me completely naked.
“Turn around.”
I do.
“Bend down and spread your legs. And don’t balk at this. We do lots of close-ups.”
I do. I despise every second of it for how dirty it makes me feel, but all I focus on is getting baby Jack a new heart and that maybe he’ll survive as a result of this.
“Okay, you can stand up and dress. You’ll have to wax. We require our actresses to have bare pussies. No hair at all. Have you ever acted before?”
No hair? “Never.”
“Not a problem. Our actors aren’t exactly known for their stellar acting ability.” He says it so matter-of-factly, I’m getting past my shock factor.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have thought so.”
“You can be a huge hit, you know, with that ass. And your tits are magnificent. Can we die your hair black?”
“Black is my natural color. I would prefer to keep it blond. Recognition purposes, you know.”
“I’m okay with that. You’re in if you want to look over the contract. You get a percentage of your sales too, so if your movies hit, you’ll make more money. A lot more money.”
I don’t know if I should be happy or not. I take the contract and start to leave.
“Can you let me know by tomorrow?”
“I’m letting you know now. I’m signing. When do you want me back?”
He eyes me for a long moment and announces, “Welcome to the triple-X family, Lusty Rhoades.”
Six months into my porn career—which turns out to be very lucrative—my beautiful baby Jack dies in my arms, struggling to take his final breath. The heart I had waited and prayed for never came. Jack never thrived, and my hope against all the odds, hope that things would turn around with his new heart, never happened. My sweet little guy never got his chance at life. For weeks, I could barely take a single breath of my own. It was like my soul had been stolen right out of me. And in many ways, it had been. When Jack’s light was extinguished, everything around me felt lifeless and dimmed.
I bury him next to my mom. Baby Jack Summers. I figure they can keep each other company because they both struggled and fought their own battles, fights neither of them could win.
My purpose for living is gone. Everything I did, I did for baby Jack. I try everything I can, but nothing works. Things never seem to go my way after he’s gone. Leaving Phoenix is my last option. I dye my hair back to its natural color, have my nose altered, get rid of the contacts, change my name to Midnight Drake, and move to LA. This is my clean break, my new beginning. But is it really?
I go through the motions, working as a waitress, until one day I answer a call for an actress in a B-rated movie. It’s about a girl who loses a child to a congenital illness. I get the role, probably because I don’t have to act one tiny bit.
My second acting career is born, only this time it’s not in a dim warehouse, and I’m fully clothed. I’m not mainstream yet, but I’m going to work my ass off to get there. I’ll do it for my baby Jack because I want to make him proud of his mother, the mother who never got to see him grow to become a man.
Chapter 31
Harrison
The drive out to find Midnight has me thinking about everything I should’ve done, should’ve said to her. All those fucking missed opportunities. Why the hell did I sit back and wait? Why did I not see perfection sitting in front of me? Why did I think she needed my fixing abilities? And how could I have been so damn stupid to put my male pride in the way? Now I know why when you rearrange the letters in male, you come up with lame. Men. We’re nothing but a bunch of lame idiots. I swear to God, if anything has happened to her, I will kill the motherfucker who hurt her.
“What the hell, Harrison?”
Leland pulls me out of my thoughts.
“What?”
“You just crushed your sunglasses in your hand.” I look down and sure enough, they’re in pieces. “Good thing it wasn’t your cell phone.”
“Yeah. Good thing.”
“What’s got you so pissed off?” He glances at me quickly, then his eyes are back on the road.
“Nothing.”
“Right. And that makes so much sense. We know she’s okay, yeah?”
“We hope, Leland. We hope.” My words are clipped. “Just drive, goddammit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t know who I’m going to kick in the ass first. You, or her.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“You let her leave when you were supposed to be keeping an eye on her.”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. We’re almost there. Call Rashid just to make sure she’s still there.”
“She’s there or he would’ve called us.”
We pull off the interstate and end up on a gravel road, way out in the middle of no-fucking-where.
“What the fuck was she thinking?” I slam my hand on the dash.
“Clearly, she wasn’t.”
“Jesus, F.”
This gravel road winds around desert land until we pull up to a ramshackle house with two cars out front. A light can be seen through the front window.
I get in my bag, pulling out my gun, the extra mag, and add a handful of extra rounds.
“What the fuck are you expecting in there?” Leland asks.
“No idea, but I won’t be caught off guard.” I slip the gun into the waistband of my jeans and we’re off.
Once we get to the house, I look inside the window and see things are clear to go in.
I knock, calling out her name to give her a heads-up. “Midnight, it’s us. Let us in.”
She flies out the door straight into my arms. Her body betrays the strength she tried to convey on the phone.
“Hey, it’s cool. I’m here. We’ll take care of things,” I say. “Leland, go inside and see what’s going on.”
I hold Midnight for a few minutes. Then I usher her off the porch. “You’ve got to tell me everything.”
“It’s such a long story, Harrison.”
I tip her chin up. Her cheek is swollen. That fucker hit her. Her lip is cut, and her eye looks like it might be cut, only it’s too dark out here to tell.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“It started with this.” She pulls a letter out of the back pocket of her jeans.
“Gummy bear, I can’t read that out here. It’s too dark. Can we go inside?”
“I
don’t want to.”
I grab her hand, lacing our fingers together, and take her to the SUV. When we get in, I read the letter.
* * *
Dear Velvet,
I bet you thought you’d never hear from me. Guess what? I’m back. Truth is I never really left. I’ve been watching you for years. Yeah, that’s right, Lusty. Didn’t think I knew, did you? Oh, and Baby Jack Summers—knew about him too. I’ve had you followed for all this time. Started after you tipped off DCS and they came after us. After you ran away, I told them you ran off with some boy. They searched but then they got that little tip and came back here asking all kinds of questions. Threatened to press charges, but they couldn’t prove anything. After that, I found you working in that motel. I watched you. For months. Then you disappeared. Until one day when I was watching porn, and who should pop up on my screen but Lusty Rhoades! I was proud to know I was the one who taught you everything you knew.
So that brings me to the reason for this letter. My lips won’t speak a word about you IF you do exactly as I say. I want money. Cash. One million, to be exact. Now that you’re a famous movie star, this should be a breeze for you. Bring it to Phoenix. Call me when you land—623-555-0955.
You might be wondering what will happen if you don’t. Here’s a little sample of things to come. Come. Ha, ha. By the way, did you like my friends in New York? I was told you had a great time. Just so you know that porn ring of mine has brought in quite a lot of money for us. Your contribution was a nice addition. See, I’ve always known where you were.
Your loving Foster Father
* * *
“He sent me a thumb drive. On it were video clips. You remember how I told you he abused me? It was bad, Harrison. He physically and sexually abused me. For years. There were clips of me having sex with him. My face, not his. My body, not his. And then clips of some of my porn films. There was also a video of what happened in New York. It could ruin me. But that’s not all.”
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