by M. Robinson
The night I lost my innocence.
The night I lost my life.
The night I lost myself, and everything I believed in.
“Brooke, let’s go outside. Okay? I don’t want to make a scene in the restaurant.”
I chuckled. “That’s what matters to you? Whether I make a scene or not? You’re fucking kidding, right?”
“Watch your mouth. You will not speak to me that way. I’m your father and you will respect me.”
“Like you respect my mother?” I snidely responded.
“Bambi, come on…” Devon tugged on my hand.
I turned to look at him. “Mind your own goddamn business, Devon.” I faced my father; not waiting to see the hurt that I knew would be evident on Devon’s face.
“Listen to your boyfriend and let’s go outside,” Dad stated.
“He’s not my boyfriend. I’ve never had one of those. Want to know why? I’ll give you one guess.”
“I understand that this is a very hard situation for you, Brooke, please give your father a chance to explain,” Charlotte interjected.
“I’m sorry did I say I wanted the opinion of my father’s whore? No, I don’t think I did.”
“That’s enough,” Dad argued, roughly grabbing me by my arm and pulling me away from Devon and toward the outside. Once we were out the doors, I crudely pulled myself out of his grasp.
“Don’t touch me. I don’t want your hands on me after they’ve been on her.”
“Brooklyn,” he warned.
“What? What can you possibly say that’s going to make this okay? Huh? What the fuck can you tell me that I don’t already know,” I shouted and I could feel Devon’s heat on my back.
“Your mother—”
“Yes, Daddy, I’m fully fucking aware that Mommy knows all about your indiscretions. I know that she thinks it’s okay; I know that you’ve been with Charlotte for years! I know that I have siblings that I have never met, and I know that you spread your seed all over this goddamn city.” I cocked my head to the side. “Did I miss anything?”
“Listen to me, young lady, I am still your father. If you think I’m going to stand here and justify myself to you, you’re dead wrong. I have been an amazing father to you and your sisters. You cannot discredit me for that. What I do in my marriage is between your mother and I. It has nothing to do with you, not one thing. It’s our business. You’re my daughter and my role to you is to be your father, which I have always done. Do you understand me?”
I scuffed. “Oh yeah, Dad, you want to know what I do for a living?”
His eyes widened and that’s when I realized that he knew. He knew it all.
“I fuck men and women, Daddy. I get paid, to spread my legs, by the same elite escort service you so happily pay thousands for. How’s that? Do you want me to tell you more? Do you want me to tell you how much I love it? How about I tell you about Jaxon?” I laughed. “You remember Jaxon, right? Your friend; your business partner… I fell for his lies, just like my mother did for yours. I got myself pregnant, thinking that everything he said to me was true… that he was going to leave his wife for me.” I shook my head in disgust, remembering how weak and pathetic I was.
I looked over at Charlotte, who was standing behind my father. “Is that what he told you? Hmmm… that he would leave his wife and family for you? Did you get pregnant on purpose, just like I did?” When she didn’t answer my eyes went back to my dad.
“Of course not… because you’ve stayed with her… taking care of her. See… Jaxon didn’t do that! He made me get an abortion.” I narrowed my eyes. “I killed your first grandchild, Daddy, and it was your business partner and friend who made the appointment.”
He jerked back and placed his hand over his heart.
“Hurts… don’t it? Leaves a nice fucking sting, right?”
“Baby—”
“NO! You do not get to feel sorry for me! You do not get to feel anything, but shame! It’s your fault! It’s all your fucking fault!”
I stepped toward him; ready to hit him. But Devon wrapped his arms around my torso, holding me back. “No. Calm down. Not like this,” he argued.
“Fuck you! Who the hell do you think you are?” I yelled, trying to break free.
“Honey, let’s go. We need to go before the cops are called, everyone is looking at us.”
“Yeah, Daddy, you need to go so you can fuck your mistress one last time and go home to my mother.”
He shook his head disappointed. “This is not over, Brooklyn.” He took one last look at me, turned and left.
His whore following closely behind him.
I coarsely removed myself away from Devon, and watched their car leave the parking lot. I didn’t look at him the entire time that I walked to his car. He tried to say something to me when he got in, but I ignored him. He drove up to some hotel and I stared out the window. When I saw him walk out of the lobby with a key in hand, I got out of the car, and we made our way into the room.
He walked in first and closed the door behind me.
“Bambi, I’m so sorr—”
I turned around to face him, unbuttoning my blouse at the same time. “You want to play?”
His face scrunched up, disillusioned and frustrated, but I paid him no mind.
“Come on, Devon, you know you want to? Let’s play…”
“Stop.”
“Stop what? Stop what I do? Is it because I don’t allow you to pay that you feel like you’re not a client?”
“Brooke,” he forewarned.
I got to the last button and my blouse opened. “I’ll let you stick it in my ass. Don’t you want to feel what my tight asshole feels like?” I taunted, walking toward him.
“I mean it, stop it. Let’s talk about this. You don’t need to do this. You don’t need to hide from me.”
“I’m sick of your shit! This is your fucking fault! I was fine before you! And I will be fine after you! Don’t get it twisted, Devon, you’re nothing to me. Just another big dick I can ride. I go back to work the day after tomorrow. I’m a VIP. That’s who I am,” I viscously spewed.
“I know you’re hurting. I understand,” he reasoned, pissing me off more.
I snidely smiled. “Let me suck your cock. Please…” I mocked, inches away from his face.
He pulled the hair away from my face and looked deep into my eyes. “Bambi, it’s okay. It’s okay to cry. Let me be here for you.”
I pushed him. I shoved him with all the strength I could muster, and his back hit the wall.
I didn’t have time to acknowledge or even think about what just happened because she came at me.
“FUCK YOU! I hate you! I hate you!” she repeated, hitting me all over my face. I tried to block each and every advance. She pushed me and hit me; I let her.
I let her take out all her frustrations on me.
I let her take out all her sadness on me.
I let her use me like I was her punching bag.
I let her use me like I was her father.
Because that’s what she was picturing…
“It’s your fault that I feel anything! You did this to me! You made me like this! Why? Why? Do you not understand that I don’t need you! Do you not understand that I don’t want you! Why did you do this to me! I never did anything to you; I never asked for this! I fucking hate you, Devon!” she screamed so loud that I felt like my ears were bleeding, never letting up on hitting and pushing me.
“Brooke, calm the fuck down.”
“FUCK YOU! You piece of shit! You manipulator; you liar!”
That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I roughly grabbed her wrists and dragged her onto the floor, placing all my weight on her.
She fucking spit at me. She spit right in my face and it landed in between my cheek and nose.
“Listen to me because I will only say this once. I have never lied to you. I hate that you have had to go through that. I hate that you feel like you’re nothing more than a VIP. You have
no idea how much you’re worth, Bambi, especially to me. I’m so sorry that you had to see that, but your father is right.”
Her eyes widened.
“He’s your dad and he’s done right by you! The marriage he has with your mother has nothing to do with you. He loves you. You’re lucky to have had a dad like him. Lucky,” I reaffirmed.
“Get. Off. Of. Me.”
“Not until you understand what the fuck I’m saying.”
“I can’t believe you’re siding with him. I can’t believe you have the balls and audacity to say this to me.”
“It’s the truth! You want real? You want pain? You want sadness? My dad beat the living shit out of me, Brooke, since I was six years old. He beat the shit out of my mom, to the point that she couldn’t move off the goddamn floor. You see those scars on my body; they each have a story. The time he beat me with a belt, till he drew blood. The time he took a lead pipe and knocked me unconscious. The time I jumped in front of my mother because I thought he was going to kill her; he beat me within an inch of my life. The time I thought I was dying because there was so much fucking blood.”
Her mouth parted and her eyes widened in shock.
“Yeah… see my dad was a cop. Not just any cop… he was the golden officer. I grew up in a town where they treated him like he was fucking God. People thought we were so lucky. Kids wanted to be me, and women wanted to be my mother. I can’t tell you how many times I hid my sisters under the bed and in the closet, praying that he didn’t come after them.”
Her eyes watered and she bit at her cheek.
“Your father put food on the goddamn table for you, and came home every night to read you a bedtime story. I don’t have one fucking memory of my father, other than his hands on my mother or me. So don’t for one second think that your dad doesn’t love you. His marriage has not one thing to do with you.”
I let go of her and stood up, leaving her on the ground looking up at me. I couldn’t look at her any longer; I walked into the bathroom slamming the door behind me. I took a look at the damage she had caused and it wasn’t as bad as I assumed it would be. She got in a few good hits and I would have some light bruises, but nothing that wouldn’t fade in a few days.
I washed my face and took one last look at myself in the mirror, before walking back out to chaos Brooke; the fortuneteller’s words running rapid through my mind.
“Don’t play with fire unless you intend to get burned. And that girl is nothing but flames.”
“You can’t save her… but she may be able to save you.”
She wasn’t where I left her. She was sitting on the bed by the headboard with her knees pulled to her chest, and her arms wrapped around her legs. Her chin sat on top of her knees.
She looked like a scared little deer.
She looked like a scared little girl.
I sat at the edge of the bed and watched how the tears streamed down her face. It broke my heart.
I reached my hand out to her, but didn’t grab her; I wanted her to come to me. She needed to meet me half way. I couldn’t keep doing this… it hurt too much. She looked down at my hand, contemplating what to do. I was petrified she wasn’t going to come to me, and I closed my eyes. When I felt her hand in mine, I immediately opened them, bringing her to me before they were even fully opened.
She came to me so easily, as if she weighed nothing, but a feather. She crawled into my lap and hugged me tightly, and I did the same to her. It was then that she openly bawled.
She sobbed like a baby. Big, huge ugly tears.
She cried for her father.
She cried for her mother.
She cried for the girl who had to grow up too fast.
She cried for the VIP, who didn’t know who she was.
But mostly, I knew in my heart.
That she cried for me.
And for the first time in over two decades…
I cried for myself, too.
By the time I woke up, it was dark outside. Devon’s arms were wrapped around me and I lay on top of him. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but my head was throbbing. I slowly pulled myself away from him, trying not to wake him. I walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I needed a few minutes to myself.
I looked in the mirror, my eyes were bright red from crying and my face was puffy and swollen. I looked like shit. I turned on the shower and undressed while it got warm. When I stepped in I let the heat soothe me. It was scorching hot, but I didn’t care. It felt amazing. My mind was numb though it was spinning, if that made any sense at all.
I washed my body till it was bright red and stung. The pain felt good, and it replaced the ache in my heart. The water started turning cold so I shut it off and grabbed a towel; barely drying my hair and my body. I wrapped it around me and my wet hair clung to the sides of my face. I took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door; Devon was lying in the same position I had left him, still asleep.
I sat at the edge of the bed and just stared at him; his eyes started fluttering and his body shuddering. He started shaking his head side-to-side like he was having a bad dream. I immediately recalled the sleeping pills that I saw in his bag in New Orleans.
He has nightmares…
But that’s not what they were.
They were memories.
I willed myself not to cry for him and he began mumbling stuff in his sleep. I didn’t know what to do.
Do I wake him?
“Mom… stop… please stop… Dad… please…” he pleaded still sleeping. His voice was pure panic and desperation.
I moved into autopilot and placed myself in his arms once again, draping my entire body over his as I lay beside him. I rubbed my hand back and forth over his chest in a soothing, comforting motion, whispering, “Shhh…” over and over again.
It only took a few minutes till his breathing labored and he stopped panicking. Sleep had once again taken over and I smiled. I was able to ease him and stop the nightmare. I felt like I had just won the lottery or something.
I kissed his chest and murmured the only thing I knew to be true.
“I love you.”
My eyes fluttered open and it was daytime. I didn’t remember falling asleep. Brooke was awake and staring at me, smiling. Much different than the girl she was before we had fallen asleep.
“You have slept like fourteen hours,” she stated.
“No I didn’t.”
She nodded. “Yeah, you did.”
I couldn’t believe it.
“I calmed you,” she proudly stated.
“What?”
“You were having a nightmare and I calmed you.”
I looked around the room confused and then I remembered that I dreamt about my father. We were in his police car after his award ceremony, and he was pissed that other officers were looking at my mother. So he started hitting her, trying to knock her head against the dashboard to make her ugly for other men. I remembered trying to break through the cage from the backseat and then it was gone. The memory vanished.
I chuckled, looking at her and she was still smiling, realizing that I remembered.
“I don’t even know what to say,” I replied.
She shrugged. “I have magical powers. I was really a fairy in my past life; Tinker Bell and I go way back.”
I laughed again. “I could see you bouncing around in a skimpy green dress.”
She shook her head. “Mine was pink.”
“My pink fairy princess?”
“No… I’m your Bambi.”
I reached over and pulled her hair out of her face, and then rubbed at the back of her neck. “I like Bambi.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
We stayed like that for the next few hours, just laying in each other’s arms in comfortable silence.
“You’re right,” she announced out of nowhere.
“About what?”
“My dad. You’re right about what you said. He’s always been an amazing father to my sisters and me.
Always provided for us, was at every sporting event, never missed dinner with his family, and told us he loved us several times a day.”
“That sounds really nice.”
She moved her chin to sit on my chest and drew what felt like hearts on my ribcage.
“I remember the first time he taught me how to ride a bike. I had fallen and skinned my knee; I thought I was going to die. I was a very dramatic child. He fixed me all up and then kissed over the band aid, telling me that he loved me and that he would always make my pain go away.” She laughed, recalling that day.
“My parents have always had this amazing marriage, even after I found out about his other lifestyle. Nothing changed. I didn’t understand and I still don’t. But somehow they’ve made it work. My best friend growing up had a brother who was about two years older than me. He was there the night I found out… it was my sixteenth birthday and I kind of conned him into taking my virginity.”
I raised my eyebrows; surprised she was sharing all this with me. I knew she hadn’t ever told anyone before.
“Anyway, for the next two years we kept having sex and he became like my best friend. He wanted more and I was such a bitch to him; I used him. He loved me and a part of me loved him, too… but I fucked it up. I haven’t seen him since I was eighteen; I guess that was about twelve years ago. I haven’t seen his sister in maybe eight or nine. We both went our separate ways, so our friendship didn’t carry over.”
“Why did you become a VIP?” I finally asked the question that had been plaguing my mind.
“I found a business card in my dad’s safe the night of my high school graduation party. It had big bold silver lettering that said VIP on the front and on the back, an address and phone number. I Googled it and it led me there. I watched Madam for months before I went to her, and that’s not how things are done. She chooses, not the other way around. Which I think is why I’m one of her favorites; I was different.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She bit her cheek and then sighed. “I’m not lying to you, Devon. I do love VIP. I do. I know you don’t understand that, but it’s home to me. I can’t explain it to you any other way.”