Shock Totem 1: Curious Tales of the Macabre and Twisted

by Shock Totem

  Twenty-Seven

  The john’s car speeds away, spinning Nikki back onto the sidewalk, snapping the strap on her pink vinyl mini-handbag, as cops move in from all angles, lights a kaleidoscopic snake-charmer’s trance. Mojo doesn’t run. He simply grins, arms raised, cell phone held high, as two cops flash their badges and a pair of cuffs. And for the first time since Andrea’s death, Nikki smiles a genuine smile, her lips chapped but the pain feels good, the pain feels real. But the relief is only momentary, as the police cruiser whisks Mojo away like some kind of celebrity, his cat-confident eyes locked onto hers as they drive by.

  Twenty-Six

  “Did you hear?” This time it’s Sandy, another one of Mojo’s girls, but the look of horror and fascination on the girl’s face is the same as the last time Nikki heard those words. It’s as if they’ve all become zombies, and when one of their own goes down, they just keep on walking. Nikki waits to hear the name, but in her gut she already knows. Sandy speaks the name. It doesn’t seem real. No, not her. Not now. “Where? Where is she?” Sandy recoils as Nikki grabs her by the shoulders, fingernails digging in. “Let go, bitch!” Sandy pulls away, and points. “Two blocks down. Just look for the crowd. Psycho.” And Nikki runs, as best she can in three-inch heels. She has to make sure Andrea’s not alone. It was her job to watch her back. She finds the crowd and threads her way through. The alley is taped off. A twisted body lies in a puddle of blood and filth. Cops circle like vultures. Taking notes so nonchalant. “Okay, back it up.” Nikki feels the pavement grow soft beneath her feet. Andrea will never forgive her. Nikki will never forgive herself.

  Twenty-Five

  A flash of blonde hair, a blue jumpsuit. Nikki’s eyes follow the fleeting image as it weaves through the sidewalk’s body of traffic and disappears into the mouth of an alleyway. “Hey, where you going?” Andrea’s voice trailing as Nikki rushes toward the spot where she last saw the little girl. She pushes past the stares and the whistles and the crude comments to reach the alley, and to her surprise the little girl is there, kneeling on the wet cement where a splinter of light shines down from above. Nikki feels her heart pounding because she knows she’s seen this girl before. Not as a street runaway, or a picture in a magazine, but in her own memory. She approaches the kneeling child. The girl’s head begins to twist around to see who’s sneaking up behind her. “There you are!” Andrea’s voice echoes down the alley. Nikki turns. “You okay?” And Nikki shows Andrea what she’s found, but the splinter of light now shines on nothing. Her eyes search the darkness. Only shadows. “Sorry. I felt like I was gonna puke.” And she does. Nothing but clear bile and a couple undigested cheesy fries. “C’mon, we better get back before Mojo sees us gone.” She follows Andrea back out onto the street, back to their place on the corner, to wait for their next trick, all the while thinking it’s got to be the drugs, or the lack of sleep, there’s no way the little girl was real, because the child looked exactly like she did when she was that age.

  Twenty-Four

  A young anorexic-thin blonde hangs on Mojo’s arm as if to keep from floating up into the night sky. “Who’s the stick?” Nikki blows a jet of cigarette smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “Her name’s Sandy. Mojo’s new girl. Don’t he know guys like women with meat on their bones?” Andrea reaches down to squeeze the skin above her hips to demonstrate, but realizes the fat that used to be there has long since wasted away. Nikki shakes her head. “I give her a week before she runs home to mommy and daddy.” Nikki feels Andrea’s arm snake around her shoulder. “Hey, you’re not still stuck on him, are you?” Nikki finally stops staring at the new girl and laughs like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. She drops her cigarette on the sidewalk, and grinds it under her toe. “Don’t be stupid, Dre. Mojo’s bad mojo. You’re all sweetness and nice. And you taste good, too.” Andrea smiles. A smile that was, perhaps, once beautiful. But now her upper lip carries a deep crease from being split open by a drunken john. Some of her teeth are missing and the ones that remain are a permanent yellow. “Friends to the end.” Nikki puts her hands over her ears and winces. “Stop it! I hate that voice!” And the night brightens, for just a second, before the darkness settles back on them.

  Twenty-Three

  Andrea arches her back. “Yeah, that’s it...right there.” She grinds her clit against Nikki’s tongue. “Mmmm...” Nikki uses the head of her piercing as a prod. Andrea’s thighs begin to tremble, Nikki can feel it through her jaw. The taste of her lover becomes more electric, spiking through the Captain Morgan sweetness still on her tongue. “Oh, God, yes!” Hands grip the back of her head, fingernails dig into her scalp. Nikki rides the wave of spasms until Andrea lets go, then draws her face up toward another set of lips. Gentle kisses, strokes of affection. “I love you to death, Nik. Don’t ever leave me, okay?”

  Twenty-Two

  “I thought I told you, no fucking shit, and for fuck’s sake, no fucking rock!” Andrea runs for the bathroom. Mojo grabs her by the hair and she squeals. “How many times, huh? How many times? That stuff will kill you!” He spins her around and punches her in the stomach. Andrea folds, and a white spew jets from her mouth. “Last time. Now get yourself cleaned up and out on that street. You look like shit.” Andrea stumbles into the bathroom and shuts the door. Nikki sits on the bed watching it all, like a replay of some bad dream. And the dream just gets worse. “Who’s selling her that shit? Manny?” Nikki’s silence says it all. “That piece of crap Puerto Rican, I’ll bust his fucking head for fucking with my girls.” Mojo looks at her like she’s the most vile thing on the planet. He picks up the ashtray containing the crack pipe and hurls it toward her. Nikki ducks and the ashtray shatters against the wall above the bed, showering her in jagged glass. She feels a piece flick across her cheek. Her hand comes away red. The pain feels dull, like the rest of her body. The blood seems to calm Mojo down. “Let me see.” He squeezes Nikki’s face. “It’s nothing,” he says. “Now clean up this place and get to work.” Nikki reaches for him, but he turns and leaves, glass crunching beneath his heels. She can hear Andrea sobbing in the bathroom. Nikki wants to cry, but her eyes are defiant. She hasn’t cried since cancer ate her mother up. Nothing seemed worth it since. Not even this.

  Twenty-One

  “Did you hear?” Andrea’s eyes are as wide as searchlights. Nikki shakes her head. She had just finished her third customer of the night and was enjoying a cigarette break. She smoked pretty regularly now. “You know Marcy, right? One of Big John’s girls? They found her all cut up and shit, over on Ketchum Street. Dead. The cops hauled Big John’s ass downtown, but he says he didn’t do it. Messed up, ain’t it?” Andrea’s about to cry and Nikki gives her a hug. Andrea’s shaking. Probably more to do with the meth she’s been taking to stay awake at night. “Don’t worry, Dre, I’ve got your back.” Andrea stares at her. Her eyes look as if they want to swallow Nikki whole. Andrea gives her a peck on the lips. “I love you, Nik.” Nikki grins. “Can I finish my cigarette now?”

  Twenty

  The freaky guy is back again. But he has the green, and Nikki needs her daily pick me up. “What will it be this time, Killer?” The man pulls a rubber dong the size of a waffle-ball bat from a bag and lays it on the passenger seat. “Is that for me?” Nikki asks playfully. The man shakes his head. “Why don’t you get in?” Nikki pulls the gum out of her mouth and tosses it in the gutter. “Back in fifteen,” she tells Andrea, and slips in alongside the john.

  Nineteen

  The hot smoke enters her throat like a wool mitten left on the radiator too long. Except this mitten unravels the moment it hits her lungs, sending out a network of fine pleasure-tendrils to every inch of her body. Scintillation crisp. Soft burn. Slow melt. She lies back on the couch and nestles her head next to Andrea’s. The smell of Andrea’s shampoo is like a garden full of roses. “Jesus fucking Christ!” is all she can say, her tongue suddenly lazy in her mouth. Andrea nods her head. “I told you it was the best.”

  Eigh
teen

  She sits on the edge of the bed in the hotel room. Her nerves are only slightly dulled. Mojo had let her smoke some weed beforehand just to mellow her out. There’s a knock on the door and her stomach floods with acid. “Come in,” she says, holding her voice firm. A middle-aged man enters the room. He’s wearing glasses. He’s wide but not very tall. His gut hangs out over his belt. He appears to be just as nervous as she is, and this somehow sets her at ease. “So you’re the big winner,” she says. The guy grins slightly. “Come here.” The man walks up and stands before her. She pauses before reaching up to undo his belt. The pants drop to the floor with a jangle. “You don’t waste any time, do you?” The man’s cock bulges against his briefs. She pulls them down and smiles. It’s a fake smile, but it’s supposed to make them feel happy, make them feel big. She opens a condom and places it in her mouth—a trick Andrea taught her. She winks a “now you just hold still” wink, then bows her head, slipping the condom onto the man’s cock in one smooth practiced stroke. He doesn’t say a word during the whole two minutes it takes for him to shoot his load. When he’s done, he hurriedly pulls up his pants and leaves, but not before handing her a hundred dollar bill. “Thanks,” she says. Her first john.

  Seventeen

  “Here, take this.” She holds the small white tablet up to her face. “What is it?” It has a dollar sign imprinted on one side. Mojo grins. “You never had X before? Oh, you’re in for a treat.” He hands her a half-empty bottle of ginger ale. She swallows the pill in one gulp. “You’re so beautiful. That mouth of yours is gonna make you top girl.” Nikki doesn’t mind hearing the beautiful comment come out of Mojo’s mouth. This is a new day, a new life, she’s an empty void just waiting to be filled. Mojo leans over and kisses her again. His tongue feels warm in her mouth. His eyes never close. They watch her as one watches something precious, something desired. His hands tug at her tube top, and he slowly lifts it over her small, firm breasts, then her head. Her blonde hair falls back across her shoulders like a soft caress. She can’t tell if it’s the drug he just gave her or the fact that she never knew her own father, but she has never felt so comfortable in the arms of another man, so protected. Mojo drops his head and takes one of her nipples into his mouth, gently sucking until it aches. Tiny frissons cascade down her body. Mojo smiles at her, then scoops her off the couch and carries her into the bedroom. He lays her down. She watches him as he removes his tank top. The room becomes a dark, velvety backdrop. The city is miles away. Mojo unzips her skirt and slides it down to her ankles and off her feet. He cups one of her legs and kisses her calf, all the while his gaze unbroken. Nikki isn’t wearing any underwear. Mojo kneels on the bed and leans forward between her legs. He grabs her ass with his hands and gently raises her. His mouth connects with her wetness and her head floods with a sensation she’s never felt before. Every movement, every gentle nip, every flick of his tongue, coats her nerves with a delicious warmth that alternately numbs and electrifies. She gasps and wholly gives in to the moment. Time stands still. Mojo eases himself into her, their bodies merge in a seamless compliment of arms and legs and soul and love and comfort, until her void fills to overflowing. “I love you, Mojo,” she says afterward. Mojo caresses her cheek with his finger. “I love all my girls.” And she didn’t care if she was just one of many. As long as Mojo was there when she needed him.

  Sixteen

  Mojo eyes her as if he’s seeing her for the first time. He even takes his sunglasses off. A grin paints his face like a wicked thought. He doesn’t say a word. He takes her by the hand and leads her away. “Want me to join you guys?” Andrea offers, left stranded. It’s the middle of the afternoon. “No, baby, this is a private party. You just make Mojo some money.” Nikki looks over her shoulder. Andrea appears hurt, but she smiles. I told you, she mouths, happy for her.

  Fifteen

  The guy with the full-body tattoo and the silver loop dangling from the middle of his nose turns, needle in hand, and says, “You ready for this?” Nikki takes a deep breath. “Just do it, okay?” The tattooed man nods appreciatively. “A sweet angel like you. It will be my pleasure.” He locks the clamp tight on her tongue. Nikki closes her eyes and pictures her Uncle Martin’s cock as the needle slides in.

  Fourteen

  They step out of the secondhand clothing store and onto the sidewalk. Nikki is dressed in a yellow spandex tube top. A black vinyl skirt terminates mid-thigh and hugs her ass. She walks comfortably in her newly purchased three-inch heels. “You look like you’ve done this before.” Andrea can’t stop staring at her. “I was a model once. It’s easy. I’ll teach you.” Nikki spots a guy walking on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. She stares the guy down. He nearly walks into a pole. They both laugh. “God, wait till Mojo sees you. I bet he’ll want to do you right there.” They pass by a tattoo and piercing shop. Nikki stops. “Hey, I have to do something first.” Nikki grabs Andrea’s hand and pulls her into the shop.

  Thirteen

  The shower hits her skin like a thousand hot needles. She tenses at first, then grows accustomed to the heat and lets the water blanket her head and shoulders. Her mind races as she washes the dirt from her skin. She can’t stop the flood of images. The look on her mother’s dying face. Uncle Martin’s sickening smile. The shadows in the alleys. All of it leading up to Andrea’s outstretched hand. And Mojo. She lets the water wash it away. All except Andrea and Mojo. She can still feel his touch. Her nipples harden. She rinses off and steps out. Andrea is there, sitting on the toilet seat. Watching her the whole time. “You’re so beautiful.” Nikki turns. “Don’t say shit like that!” Andrea looks as if she’s about to cry. “Sorry, I just never seen anyone on the street that looks like you. You could be a...” Andrea’s voice echoes with a hundred other voices Nikki’s heard over the years. You could be a model. You could be a movie star. That’s all they see. That’s all anyone ever sees. Nikki looks in the mirror and the anger goes away. That’s in the past now. “I didn’t mean to yell. Forgive me?” Andrea’s face brightens. “Friends?” Nikki holds out her hands. Andrea smiles. “Friends to the end,” she says, doing her best imitation of Chucky from Child’s Play. “Ew. I hated that movie.” They both laugh. Nikki hugs her. Andrea’s skin is hot to the touch.

  Twelve

  “Nik, this is Mojo. Mojo, this is Nikki.” The tattooed guy in the muscle T clicks off his cell phone and pockets it. His eyes start at the bottom and work their way up. When they reach her face, they slide back down to her mouth. “I’ve already explained the deal to her. She doesn’t have a problem with it.” Andrea steps back as Mojo circles like a tiger. “Is that so?” He stops, his nose just an inch away. His eyes penetrate her. Nikki admires the way his hair catches the light, slicked back and tied in a ponytail. He smells like one of those magazine swatches. His hands grab hold of her hips and slowly slide into the curve of her waste, then on up to her breasts, where they pause, thumbs prodding gently. “You have a problem with this?” he asks. She can feel her nipples harden. She shakes her head. “Good.” He raises a hand to her chin and kisses her. She can feel the tip of his tongue, the brush of his thin mustache on her lip. He tastes like hickory smoke. For a moment, the world seems to disappear. The street sounds, the endless night, her whole miserable existence—gone. His kiss is like a drug. She awakens to his voice in her ear. “I’ll take good care of you, as long as you take good care of me,” he whispers. “If I wasn’t busy, I’d take you upstairs right now and show you how good I can take care of you.” He kisses her again, more lightly this time, a promise of things to come, then reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a fifty. He hands it to Andrea. “Take her back to your place. Get her cleaned up, and tomorrow take her shopping.” Andrea smiles a “he likes you” smile as they hurry away, giggling down the sidewalk. Nikki runs her fingers across her lips. She can still taste him. She thinks she’s in love.

  Eleven

  “Hey, what’s your name?” Nikki looks up, eyes blinded by the co
rner streetlight. The girl with the four-inch heels and short leather skirt crouches down. “Hey, you all right? Want something to eat? I’m on a break, you want something? There’s a place right around the corner that makes the best cheesy fries. C’mon.” Nikki looks around. The alley reeks. There are shadows within the shadows. “Why are you being so nice? You don’t even know me. I probably look like shit.” The girl smiles. There’s a glint of braces. “Naw, you’re beautiful. Let’s just say I’ve been there.” She holds out her hand. “My name’s Andrea.” Nikki looks around again. The shadows have moved. “I’m Nikki.” She shakes the girl’s hand. “C’mon, Nikki, let’s get you fixed up.”

  Ten

  She had to keep moving. Shadows. They seem to follow her wherever she goes. The night never sleeps. Nikki crouches in the alley, wedged between a stack of cardboard boxes and two large garbage bags that smell like a sun-baked salad bar. A splinter of light shines down from above onto a patch of wet cement—a tiny island amid all the black. A bedroom nightlight for runaways. She tries to make herself invisible. But still she senses they can see her. They could be just tricks of the light, false movements created by street signs and store awnings shifting in the warm, gritty breeze. Or they could be real. The homeless. The hungry. Following her like dogs on a blood scent. Street people longing for company, or worse. Watching her every move. Waiting until she falls asleep. Waiting until she finally gives in to the night. Waiting to take her to the most vile place on the planet. Where she belongs.