by Ray Backley
Roughly midway between San Francisco and Los Angeles, the city of Fresno was neither here nor there in so many ways. And although the place didn’t possess the romanticized notoriety of San Francisco’s Tenderloin or LA’s Skid Row, it wasn’t without its social problems.
On the east side of the city, Samantha Fisher tried to look after Karen, her only daughter, as well as she knew how to. Government subsidized housing equated to filling in application forms, moving up waiting lists, and having your lifestyle and finances assessed by people who made damn sure they were paid enough to live well away from such housing. That was way too much effort for a woman who struggled to get out of bed and feed her daughter before noon. So the two of them had drifted to a tin box at the back end of a trailer park littered with old garbage and forgotten lives.
Samantha struggled through a variety of personal traumas and dubious temptations, but when Karen turned thirteen, Samantha gave up that struggle completely and abandoned her, preferring the unquestioning love of the chemical variety.
Karen’s father had completely avoided any doubt on the issue of concern for his child by abandoning her before she was even born. Her maternal grandparents, frail before their time and nervous about taking on a girl who was rapidly turning into something of a wildcard, chose not to adopt, but were regular visitors to the group foster home just a few miles away from where Karen had grown up.
The social workers and foster parents gave Karen as much care and attention as they could, but were unable to satisfy a hunger for a deeper kind of love and acceptance. The young Karen had little awareness of all of that, just as she didn’t realize how impressionable she was. Soon, a bucketful of hormones was thrown into the mix and started galloping around her system like a horse on heat on a steamy midsummer’s day, and it became clear that she was never exactly headed for Harvard Business School.
Just as a puppy latches onto its owner as soon as its mother is removed from its world, Karen latched onto Layla, another guest of the same establishment. A year Karen’s senior, Layla knew all the ropes – how to sneak out of the home, how to sneak booze in, where to smoke without getting caught, how to meet guys, and much more. Layla apparently knew it all.
Layla also knew Jose, and frequently mentioned him and the other guys who hung out with him. She would mention their names in whispered tones, as if they might hear and wouldn’t approve of being talked about behind their backs. The stories of drinks and parties intrigued Karen, but she said nothing about her desire to get involved.
In their first few months together, Karen and Layla got up to some harmless pranks: the foster home found their phones wrapped in plastic film on more than one occasion, the local playground had just a little more graffiti thanks to them, and if one of the local stores was less than helpful to the girls, the owner would suffer a dramatic fall in custom before eventually finding a “closed for refurbishment” notice glued to the door. Then they graduated to a little petty pilfering, but it was still nothing more than silly fun, the most important aspect for Karen being that she now knew how to feign confidence. She was still pretty wide-eyed and innocent, but now she knew how not to show it. She held her chin high, chewed gum like she was holding a gun up to people, and she injected at least one curse into every sentence. She talked the talk, walked the walk, and smoked the smoke of adulthood. Or so she thought.
The two girls had even started calling each other “sister,” so when Layla asked Karen whether she wanted to hang out with Jose and the other guys, her initial instinct was to jump at the chance – she wanted to go this second. But appearing too keen wasn’t cool, so a shrug of indifference was her casual acceptance of the invite.
The house was about half a mile from the foster home. Initially it was a shock; Karen had overheard social workers complain about how dirty and untidy her mom’s trailer had been, but the mess in this place was in another league. Fast-food wrappers, beer cans, magazines and dirty clothes lined the edges of every room. The stench of rotten food, alcohol and those dirty clothes made it hard to inhale, but it didn’t seem quite so bad after a few breaths.
Nobody seemed sure who the place actually belonged to, but the usual occupants were Jose, Johnny D, Franco, Bullface and Vinnie, augmented by a regular and ever-rotating variety of pretty young women. Karen didn’t get the names at first: it wasn’t clear whether Jose was Joseph, Josiah or José, whether Franco was really Frank, what the D in Johnny D was for, or what Bullface’s real name was. None of that really mattered, and asking for clarification would have sounded desperately uncool.
Vinnie was the most interesting character, behaving like Jose’s second in command when he was around, but disrespecting the guy when he wasn’t.
The first few visits were daunting, and Karen hardly said a word. She was way out of her depth, but had no intention of getting out of the water. And Vinnie clearly noticed her reserved nature, telling her not to be scared, that she’d be safe there, and that if any of the other guys upset her, she was to tell him. She also heard him tell Layla to keep bringing her around because she kind of blended in, almost belonged right from the start. That would be the tight leggings, high heels, crop top and lipstick, Karen thought, which only encouraged her to look the part even more.
There was drink of every variety, smoke of many kinds, and with Vinnie’s help, Karen gradually came out of her shell and even started dancing with Layla “for the boys,” as Layla put it. She occasionally saw knives and guns, heard whispered phone calls, and there was a constant stream of visitors exchanging packages for cash. Karen knew it was all wrong, but that was what made it so right. These guys didn’t take any shit from the law, and took care of each other as well as the women around them. They were as good as family for one another.
Although Jose was the leader, in time she found out that it was Vinnie’s house, so inside the house it was almost evens. Not that that mattered; the house was just such a cool place to hang out, watch movies, have a beer, shoot pool, or get some sun in the back yard when it was warm enough.
It was probably on the sixth or seventh visit there that Layla disappeared with Jose into one of the bedrooms, leaving Karen alone with the others. It was the first time she’d been separated from Layla in the house, and she felt just a little bit like a young deer surrounded by wolves. Relatively friendly wolves, but wolves nonetheless.
“So tell us more about yourself,” Vinnie said. “How old are you?”
“I’m thirteen. But nearly fourteen.”
Vinnie’s face jerked back in surprise. “Thirteen?” He turned to Bullface and Johnny D. “She’s thirteen. You believe that?”
“Figure you could pass for seventeen, easy,” Bullface said.
Vinnie looked her up and down, his eyes hovering more on some places than others. “I’d say perhaps even twenty with a short skirt, a tighter top, higher heels.”
Karen could feel the heat of embarrassment on her face, but managed to reply, “Oh, I don’t have much money for clothes and shoes.”
“Well, that’s a crying shame,” Vinnie said. “You got to look good if you want to hang around here. I’ll sort you out for cash if nobody else does, don’t you go worrying.”
She was quickly getting to like these guys – but especially Vinnie. He was the first person in her life who treated her like an adult.
In time they became a gang of sorts – a variable group, sometimes with other girls, usually with other guys – hanging out at Vinnie’s place, going to bars and impromptu house parties, sometimes hitting nightclubs. They were all good friends. Vinnie would even buy her clothes, shoes, and occasionally a cuddly toy. Then there was more: he would arrange and pay for her nails and hair to be done, because he knew people, and because people respected him. They were friends – all of them – and for the first time since her mother had been sober, Karen felt she belonged. It really was a kind of family. Sure, there were things happening in the background that the guys didn’t want Karen or Layla to know about – times when the
girls were told to stay in the back yard or the kitchen while the guys held their business meetings – but that was cool because it was just what guys did.
She’d noticed Jose disappearing into one of the bedrooms with other women – even when Layla was around. But it didn’t matter; if Layla was happy with the arrangement, then so what?
Vinnie was also popular with women. After all, he was twenty-two and so a man of the world. There came the time when he told Karen she was quickly becoming his best buddy. She was flattered. It made her feel so special. And he started becoming more thoughtful – stepping in to protect her whenever the other guys made jokes about the increasing size of her breasts, and he even bought her a bunch of flowers on her fourteenth birthday.
Karen was almost fourteen and a half when Vinnie took her into his bedroom and locked the door. He said he’d tried to fight his feelings for her, but she was just so hot, so damned beautiful, had such a sweet smile and was so much fun to be around that he couldn’t control himself. He stroked her hair, locked his eyes onto hers, and said he was in love with her and didn’t know what to do about it. And her heart felt weightless like never before. This was Vinnie, pretty much the head honcho, a natural leader. And of all the girls he had available, he loved her. That must have meant that she, too, was special, right?
He led her to the bed and they kissed. He got out a glass pipe with an off-white lump of crystal inside, and held a cigarette lighter under it for a few seconds till it melted and vaporized. He told her to take a few sucks on the end of it, that it would make her happier. As her lips clasped onto it and her cheeks pulled in, she noticed Vincent’s nostrils twitch, saw his expression turn serious. He asked if it felt good. She laughed and told him she’d smoked all sorts before. It was a lie, but it was told with great assurance because she’d grown up so much since she’d been hanging out with Vinnie, so it was okay.
The sex was painful. He apologized, saying he could get some better stuff for next time that would dull the pain. Two days later, he did exactly that. He injected something into her arm, and he was right, she felt no pain. In fact, it dulled not only the pain of sex, but all pain – particularly the intense ache in her heart caused by being abandoned first by her father and then by her mother.
Fast forward a few months and Karen was getting confused, because although Vinnie had told her she was his favorite girl and his true love, he was still seeing other women. Karen talked it over with Layla, who had just finished with Jose and started going with Bullface. Layla said that was pretty much what Jose had done and also what Bullface was doing; the guys were all the same in that they didn’t want to be tied down by old-fashioned rules and preferred their freedom, and that was kinda cool. Karen said she wasn’t so sure she liked the arrangement, but Layla just snickered and told her to lighten up and play Vinnie for every dollar she could get out of him. Karen laughed at that, but it was a forced laugh; it seemed strange that all the guys were telling the same story.
Despite Karen’s reservations, she and Vincent became a solid item. He swore to her that in time he would stop seeing other women, that she didn’t need to worry about anything from now on, and that he would always protect her. It was about then that he started calling her “lollipop.”
On one occasion, the two girls went around to find only Vinnie at the house. Away from the other guys, he turned out to be a good host. The three of them ate, talked, drank just a little, and then Vincent stood up and stretched.
“You two girls have to leave,” he said. “I got some business to attend to.”
Layla and Karen, sprawled out on a grubby old couch, glanced at each other. Neither of them wanted to go back to the foster home. Karen knew. It was almost telepathic.
“Hey, c’mon,” he said. “Out.”
“Couldn’t we stay longer?” Layla said. “Just in the background. We’d be no trouble.”
A crooked grin appeared on Vinnie’s face, he shook his head, laughing, and stepped over to Layla.
“Stand up,” he said.
Layla’s expression changed for the worse. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry. We’ll go.”
“What did I just say?”
Karen wanted to tell Vinnie it was okay, that they would leave. That didn’t seem wise; something had clearly put him in a bad mood. Instead, she said, “Let’s go,” to Layla.
Then there was a loud clap and Layla fell sideways onto the couch, clutching her jaw. She wasn’t crying, but wasn’t too far away from it.
“And?” Vinnie said to her.
“You asked me to stand.”
“So?”
Layla stood.
“And what else did I say, before that?”
“That we should go,” Layla mumbled.
“Louder!”
“That we should go.”
“Okay. Now, don’t ever make me tell you twice to do something. You got it?”
“I got it, Vinnie. I’m sorry.”
Both girls headed for the door.
Vinnie held a hand up to Karen, stopped her, then kissed her on the lips. “Just so as you know,” he said, “I would never do that to you.”
In shock, all Karen could do was nod. Vinnie was the leader, after all, he got angry sometimes and everyone else had to just deal with it.
“Then again,” he added, “you would always do what I said, wouldn’t you, lollipop?”
She replied with another nod.
He leaned toward her, ear first, whispered, “Can’t hear you.”
“Oh, of course, Vinnie. Whatever you say.”
“Exactly what I like to hear, lollipop. You’re a good girl.”
The episode should have been a warning to the young Karen; instead it made Vinnie seem even more exciting. If only the 28-year-old Cath could talk to the 14-year-old Karen, life would have been so different, so much better.
Chapter 7
The moment Dan flicked the switch on, he might just as well have set off the big bang. The light was everywhere, so white and intense his eyes stung from the shock. Likewise, the screams that came from all directions overloaded his ear drums. Eyes shut tight, hands slammed over ears, his whole body jolted in fright like a fish jumping out of water. The screams and the lights didn’t let up. He recoiled as far back as he could – which wasn’t very far because the back of his head thumped against that same rough surface he’d felt before and his shoulder blades ground against it too.
It took him a few seconds to recognize the screams: Phoebe and Benjie. He opened his eyes to the slimmest of slits, shielding them from the stark light above with both hands, and saw the children lying on the floor in front of him. Then he noticed the walls – all four of them – no visible windows, doors, or gaps of any sort. He scuttled over to the two huddled forms and shushed them both, hugging them, rocking them back and forth.
They were more upset than he’d ever seen them – and not without reason; he was pretty frightened himself. But he kept hugging them, telling them it was okay, that they were safe, and in time their screaming subsided. It would take longer, however, for their crying to stop.
Dan’s eyes had now adjusted somewhat to the bright light, enough for him to be sure of what he’d first feared: that they were inside a cell of some sort with no obvious entrance or exit. That explained why it had been so dark: there was absolutely no light getting in from anywhere else and they were reliant on that single bulb above them that was plugged into the socket he’d found near his shoulder. Not only did he have no idea where they were, there was also no way of knowing what time of day it was. Yes, his watch would say it was approaching ten in the morning, but something weird was going on here and he was reluctant to trust anything – even his own watch.
He told the children to settle down again, to lie back onto the bedclothes they’d been wrapped up in, while he took stock and tried to work out what the hell was going on. One thing he knew right now was that he had a splintering headache. Perhaps it had been the sudden light and noise, perhaps t
he stuffy air, perhaps something else, but he took some calming breaths while he sat still and looked around for clues.
The floor was a kind of carpet underlay rubber – multiple layers and not too uncomfortable. The walls were bare brick – although he could now see one interesting feature: a small black hole high in the wall at the end he’d been sleeping. The room was about five feet wide, eight feet high and perhaps twelve feet long. At the other end stood four large containers – square plastic tubs about a foot wide and four feet high.
“Where are we?” Phoebe said.
“And where’s mommy?” Benjie asked.
“Well,” Dan said to them, nodding and taking a few breaths by way of playing for time, “I don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but I’m sure this will turn out fine in the end.”
He silently cursed himself. He had to say something to make them feel better, but he had absolutely no faith in his words and knew he shouldn’t have made stupid promises about things he clearly had no control over. They were, after all, in a cell. Imprisoned.
He stretched up on tip-toes to face the hole in the wall. It was as black as the room had been. He turned an ear to it but only heard his own pulse pumping blood through his ear. Was this for ventilation? Logic would suggest it had to be, otherwise they all would have died by now. Someone had clearly thought this through some time ago.
His head hummed with that same mother of all headaches, but he had to try something. He scuttled along, squeezing past the kids, thumping the wall as he went, trying to find any concrete blocks that moved. None did. And the containers were as solid as the blocks. All had lids. The first one had clothes for all three of them, under which was a large bag of toilet paper. The next container held bottled water and pre-packed food – mostly cereal bars and bags of nuts and dried fruit. The third was full of books and magazines together with a small electric heater. He sifted through a few of the books. The titles struck a chord with him, but his addled mind couldn’t quite work out why. The fourth container was the most interesting. The lid was airtight, needing some strength to pull off, but was empty. In front of it was a small plastic bucket.
