by John Locke
“Jill!” he says, enthusiastically. “I’m so glad you came!”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve!” she says.
“Let’s go inside and talk about it,” Jack says.
“Let’s not.”
“Why?”
“There’s a good chance I’ll raise my voice. What you did to me was the meanest thing I’ve ever seen. You knew I needed that money.”
“If we can talk for just a minute...”
She pauses, then says, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” Jill says. “Walk with me.”
“Where?”
“Away from this dinner crowd.”
“Lead the way.”
She leads him around the building. As they turn the corner, he reaches into his pocket and hands her a thick envelope.
“This again?”
He sees her looking around.
She raises her voice and says, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice—”
“Shame on me!” Brutus yells, running toward them, full speed. He pushes Jack back into the building. When Jack tries to gain his footing, Brutus punches his left cheek, then his right eye, and follows it with a knee to the groin. Jack falls to the pavement, Brutus kicks him. Jack curls up into a fetal position. Brutus kicks him again.
Jack goes unconscious.
Brutus looks around, then nods at Jill.
She nods back.
He leaves.
Jill opens the envelope and says, “Holy shit!”
Ten Minutes Earlier…
Jack checks his watch as Jill pulls into the Pancake House parking lot. He’s in his car, across the street, where he’s been for the past forty minutes. He watches her park as far as possible from the restaurant’s front door. A couple minutes later Jack sees a large guy walk over to Jill’s car.
He knows the guy.
Doesn’t know his name, but recognizes him as one of the bouncers from Favors Strip Club. Jack’s first thought is Jill might be in trouble. He fires up the car and drives across the street. But when he gets to the parking lot he decides they’re having a friendly conversation. So either it’s a helluva coincidence they’d run into each other at the Pancake House, or…
Or he’s here to beat me up.
Jack decides to play it out, see what happens. He keeps his eyes forward, enters the lot, finds a parking space close to the entrance, then walks to the front door. A minute later, Jill walks over to him. She’s wearing skinny jeans, an off-the-shoulder tunic, and looks amazing.
He greets her warmly.
Not surprisingly, she’s furious. Doesn’t want to go inside. Wants to walk around the building to talk.
Jack looks for the big guy, but doesn’t see him. He walks with her around the building, ninety percent certain he’s about to get pummeled.
He gives Jill the envelope stuffed with hundred dollar bills.
Fifty of them.
Five grand.
That’s got to please her.
Except she doesn’t believe him, because he shafted her the first time. She’s looking around, saying something about fooling her once. And…
Showtime!
Jack sees him coming and has to make a quick decision. Should he run? Fight? Or accept the beating?
He chooses to accept the beating.
It’s over quickly.
Jack pretends he’s out cold.
Will she walk over to see if he’s okay?
No. She’s opening the envelope. And likes what she sees inside. Finally, she walks over to check on him.
It’s not exactly Romeo and Juliet, but it’s a start, right?
Something to build on.
“Jack! Are you okay?” she says, shamelessly.
“Huh?” he says, pretending to come around.
“You’ve been attacked! I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Fine? Are you crazy? You’re bleeding!”
She helps him sit up.
“I’ll go in the bathroom, get cleaned up,” he says. “Then we can have dinner like we planned.”
“Not here,” she says.
“Why not?”
She breaks eye contact, and sighs. “I work here.”
“What?”
“During the day.”
“Seriously?”
She pauses, then says, “The truth is, I wasn’t planning to meet you tonight.”
“I don’t understand.”
She takes a deep breath. “I set you up.”
“With the big guy?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I was angry with you.”
“You had every right.”
“I agree,” she says. “Why would you do that? Give me envelopes filled with newspaper?”
“One reason is I was afraid someone would steal it from you. But the real reason is I thought you might use it to leave town.”
“I can’t believe you thought that!”
“Well, I didn’t really know you that well.”
“What made you think I’d show up after getting stiffed?”
“I was counting on you being angry enough to come tell me off.”
“At which point you give me the two thousand dollars?”
“There’s five thousand, actually.”
“No shit?”
“Count it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I like you, Jill.”
“Did like me, you mean.”
“Still do. I think.”
“Even though I paid someone to beat you up?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
She helps him to his feet, props him against the wall. “Are you okay to walk?”
“One way to find out.”
He takes a couple of shaky steps, winces, then leans against the building for support.
“How much did you pay him?” Jack says.
“Two hundred bucks.”
“You got your money’s worth.”
She smiles. “You’ve got a very forgiving nature.”
“Thanks. Where do you want to eat?”
“My place.”
“What about your girls?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t have any kids, Jack.”
“You don’t?”
Christ, what a rube, Jill thinks.
She doesn’t know how it happened, but one thing she’s learned over the years, chemistry between two people can’t be predicted. Another thing she’s learned is a man will pay his last nickel to possess what he truly wants. And what Jack wants is for Jill to want him. Buying her body appears to hold no interest for him. He literally said what he wanted the very first minute they spoke.
He wants her to be his girlfriend.
Why?
Who gives a shit! He’s already paid five grand for the privilege, and she hasn’t given up so much as a kiss! If she handles it right, Jack’ll give her another five before the evening’s over.
“I should get my car,” Jill says.
“I’ll follow you home,” he says. “That way you won’t have to drive me back here after dinner.”
“Nonsense,” she says. “You’re in no condition to drive.”
“That’s probably true,” he says.
“Wait here. I’ll get my car and bring it to you.”
“Are you going to ditch me?”
“No.” She flashes a warm smile. “I promise.”
A minute later her car pulls up. She helps him get in.
“You sure you don’t want to go to the emergency room?” Jill says. “You might have a concussion.”
“I’m fine. Just a little shaken up, is all.”
“I’m really sorry about that.”
“Please. It was my fault.”
She looks at the expression on his face and everything changes. Forget the plan, forget the money, she tells herself. Some things are more important. Like recognizing a good man when he’s an arm’s length away. I’ve been an idiot, a fool, she real
izes. But no more! From now on it’s going to be no lies, no bullshit.
Just Jill.
What changed her mind?
This man’s a prize. He’s worth fighting for, worth trusting. He’s worth her finest effort.
She takes his hand, brings it to her lips, kisses it.
“You’re a good man,” she says.
“But not a better person than you,” he says, smiling. “Remember telling me that at the club? I still agree with you.”
She says, “If we’re being honest, you’re a much better person than I am.”
She starts the car and gasps. Looks down, trying to fathom what caused the sharp pain in her thigh. Sees Jack holding a hypodermic needle. Feels a cold rush as the liquid fills her bloodstream and makes her so groggy she can’t put the car in gear. She tries to reach down, pull the needle from her thigh, but has no control over her hand. Her eyelids grow heavy. She feels her body going slack. Works to form a single word.
Why?
But can’t.
Jill wants to explain she was planning to take him home, give him what he wanted. She was going to open her heart, take a chance on him. But even if it turned out he didn’t want her, she still fully intended to make sure he left her house happy and satisfied tonight. Because while two grand would have given her a new start, five grand gives her a new life.
And speaking of the five grand?
She remains conscious long enough to see him put the cash envelope and her Emma Wilson driver’s license in his jacket pocket.
“Where are we?” Jill says, in a voice made thick from the drug.
“Memphis,” Jack says.
“Why?”
“Think about it.”
Jill wants to scratch his eyes out, grab him by the throat, strangle him to death. But she’ll settle for grabbing the car keys and trying to make a run for it.
Except she can’t.
Her wrists are above her head, handcuffed to the headrest.
What about her feet? Maybe she can kick him till he pulls over or crashes into something. But no, her feet are bound with his belt, and hooked to something below the seat that restricts her movement.
“I need to pee,” she says.
Jack laughs. “There it is. The go-to comment.”
“What do you mean?”
“They always say that.”
“Who?”
“Women. When they’re trapped. It’s the first thing they say.”
“You’ve trapped a lot of women in your life?”
“Transported is a better word.”
“What is it you do, exactly, Jack?”
“I’m a bounty hunter.”
“You’re joking.”
“Dead serious, actually.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Jack says nothing.
Jill says, “I really do need to pee.”
Jack says, “No one’s stopping you from peeing, Jill.”
“Where are we?” Jill says, coming around for the second time.
“Hour north of Jackson, Mississippi.”
“Why?”
“Think about it.”
“You’re taking me back. To La Pierre, Louisiana.”
They ride in silence a few minutes before Jill says, “How much is he paying you?”
“That’s confidential.”
“Please don’t take me back,” she says. “I’ll do anything.”
“So you say.”
“Name it, Jack. Anything you want.”
“Look at me.”
She does.
He says, “This business about you being a hooker? It’s bullshit.”
She starts to say something, changes her mind. Then says, “What tipped you off?”
“Friday night. Favors Strip Club.”
“What about it?”
“You didn’t ask me to buy you a drink.”
She thinks a minute, then says, “Is that such a big deal?”
“Big enough to set you apart from every bar hooker in the history of the world.”
“And yet I would have had sex with you. And still would, if you’ll agree to let me go.”
“That wasn’t your only mistake.”
“What else?”
“You asked me to set the price. Again, that’s a first.”
“You’ve obviously had a lot of experience with prostitutes. Your mother must be very proud.”
“My mother was a prostitute. She wouldn’t be proud, but she wouldn’t be judgmental, either. As for your other mistakes? You got mad because I didn’t make you feel special. Do I really need to tell you hookers don’t expect a special relationship? And they don’t insult potential customers. Also, you grabbed the seat beside me too quickly. It reeked of desperation.”
“That’s unique among hookers?”
“Sadly, no. But with your looks, it’s a bad move.”
“Why?”
“Of all the women in the club, you’re the prize.”
“That’s ridiculous. Most of them are little more than half my age.”
“Those girls are cute or pretty at best. You’re beautiful. Refined. Clean. And you’re not on drugs. You’re mysterious.”
“Mysterious? How?”
“Because you never let the customers see you completely naked on stage. You’re the one they’d pay big money to bang, but it has to be their idea, not yours. Friday night I could have had you for a fraction of what you’re worth.”
The dashboard light casts a green glow across Jill’s face. Jack starts a mental ten-count. By the time he gets to three, she asks the question he knew was coming.
“How much am I worth?”
“You’re too high class to turn tricks. You could be a courtesan.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“Top of the line. A companion. With benefits.”
“Define high class. In terms of a hooker.”
“She’s beautiful. Smart. Classy. Sexy. She’ll fit in wherever a wealthy guy wants to take her.”
“And that’s worth how much?”
“Three grand for a night, five for a weekend, ten for a week.”
“And if I were ten years younger?”
“Twice that.”
“Is that what you pay high class hookers?”
He pauses a moment, then says, “Let’s talk about you.”
“What about me?”
“I knew before I met you.”
“Knew what?”
“That you never turned a trick in your life. That you only started stripping three weeks ago, and can’t even finance your buy-in because you’ve been lending money to the bouncers and dancers, trying to fit in. That’s a rookie move, by the way. They were taking advantage of you. Beyond that, you’re not a real stripper. You move well, but never go past pasties and panties.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
He nods.
“How long?”
“In the club? Couple of times. All together? A month, give or take.”
“Where?”
“Your apartment, the club, your day job, your errands, job interviews.”
“You knew I worked at the Pancake House?”
“Of course. Speaking of which, would you prefer I call you Emma Wilson?”
She ignores the question, saying, “You knew I kept flunking job interviews?”
“I knew.”
“Then you knew how desperate I was.”
“Which is why I stepped in when I did.”
“You knew I was ready to sell my body?”
“I knew you were getting close. And I didn’t want that for you.”
“You’ve been following me around for a month?”
“About that.”
“Why’d you wait so long before taking me back?”
Jack starts to reply, but she cuts him off, saying, “Wait, I know. You were building your fee. Pretending you couldn’t find me right away.”
He shrugs. She’s wrong, but does it
really make a difference?
Jill drifts in and out of sleep as the effects of the drug slowly wear off. At one point she asks, “You got any kids?”
“No.”
They go silent again, until he says, “What made you ask that?”
She shrugs. “Your name’s Jack. At least that’s what you told me.”
“It’s Jack. So what?”
“We passed Jackson a while ago. Made me wonder. You know, Jack’s son?”
He says nothing.
Jill says, “Not a fan of word play, I take it.”
“Why’d you run off?”
She groans, rolls her eyes. “Seriously, Jack? You’re smart enough to track me down, but don’t know why I left?”
“Your husband, Bobby Dee. The mobster.”
“Monster’s a better description.”
She sees him glance at her, so she adds, “You’re wondering how bad it could have been. And I’d tell you if I thought it would change your mind.”
“Can’t hurt,” he says.
“Yeah, it can.”
“How?”
“It’ll give you more information to use against me. Fatten your fee.”
“You think I’d do that?”
“We’re here, aren’t we?”
“I’m just doing my job.”
“Calling it your job doesn’t make it right.”
“We saw what you were willing to do Friday night to pay the bills.”
“Yes, we did. And thanks for reminding me how you really see me.”
This is exactly why she can never let herself fall for Jack. He’ll never forget she was willing to sell her body.
“My life was literally on the line,” she says. “I knew I couldn’t stay there much longer without getting caught. I was about to be kicked out of my apartment. I was down to my last tank of gas.”
“What about the Pancake House job?”
“I’m still working off the advance they gave me.”
“So you decided to sell your body.”
“To you, Jack. To you. Not the next person who happened by. You think you’re the first guy who came in the bar last Friday? I chose you!”
“Why?”
“Same things you said about me. You’re great-looking. You’re clean. You’re a cut above. I felt if I had to trade sex for money just this once, I could live with myself if I did it with someone like you. And I’m still willing to, if you’ll let me go. Like you said, I’m not a hooker. I’ve slept with exactly five men in my entire life. But I’ll give you all I’ve got, Jack. You can do whatever you want to me, and toss me in a ditch when you’re through. I’ll still be better off. Just…please, Jack!”
