by Jessie Cooke
Dax sped up to the curb and Jace thought he was going to jump it…but suddenly the bike was no longer in motion and Doc was parked on the other side of them in the street. As Jace climbed off he smiled at Doc and said, “Thank you so much, sir.” He was grinning like an idiot when he told Dax the same. Dax still looked annoyed but Doc said:
“Thank you, kid. If you ever get out of that military school alive, look us up––you can’t buy that kind of trust. Let’s roll,” he told Dax. The guy with Jace’s bag tossed it to him and Jace picked it up, stepped out of the way and watched, wide-eyed and still grinning, as they drove away. He wasn’t sure how many times the Colonel slurred his question before he finally heard it.
“What the motherfuck is going on?”
3
Two Years Later
“You’re going to lose your cherry tonight!” Sonny downed his sixth shot of the night and chased it with the third beer he’d opened in an hour. His voice was loud and Jace was about half an inch away from knocking him out, if the liquor didn’t do it first.
“Shut the fuck up, man! Jesus, announce to the world that I’m a damned virgin, why don’t you?” Jace was whispering.
Jace spent the first fifteen years of his life questioning why some people seemed to win the lottery at birth, and others like himself came in underneath a black cloud that followed them everywhere they went. He honestly thought his life couldn’t get any worse than it was…he got home that summer break from school after the Colonel had forgotten him and discovered his always in-control old man drunk off his ass. They had an argument about the bikers who dropped him off, and why the Colonel hadn’t shown up to get him…and then suddenly his big, badass father broke down in tears and said:
“She left.”
“Who left?” Jace’s chest was tight. If Myrna left, she took Rosie, and that thought made him more than anxious.
“Myrna, who do you think?” the Colonel snapped. “She took the kid.” For the past few years, the Colonel had taken to calling Jace’s baby sister, “the kid,” like saying her name made her too real or something. It made Jace want to punch him in the face.
“Where did she go?”
“To Connecticut to live with that bitch sister of hers.”
“Go get them back!” Jace said, almost raising his voice to the old man. The Colonel was too drunk to notice, or care.
“Don’t you think I tried? She’s not coming back.”
“What about Rosie?” The old man shrugged and Jace flexed his fists, feeling his self-control slipping. “You don’t care that she took your daughter?”
“She can take care of her, Jace. I can’t. The kid doesn’t even like me.” He brought the bottle he was holding back up to his lips and broke down in tears again. “I loved her. She’s the only person I ever loved.” Jace didn’t miss that he didn’t say “woman.” He said “person,” and Jace knew that was true. The Colonel didn’t love him. He was merely a “responsibility” the old man was unwilling to shirk. Jace didn’t doubt he would send Myrna plenty of money to take care of Rosie either. The Colonel was a responsible adult, even if he was a pathetic, heartless asshole.
Time went on and Jace refused to return to school. His old man was too caught up in his own problems to worry about it. Jace did everything he could to try to get the old man to take him to see Rosie. When he realized that wasn’t going to happen, he took a train on his own. Myrna let him see her, but only for a few minutes, and she didn’t invite him into the house…like she was afraid he’d sully it somehow. He did find one thing he and his father agreed on, however––the sister was a bitch. The next time he went to see his sister, Myrna wasn’t there. The sister had Rosie closed up in her bedroom, all alone and crying. Jace thought about taking his sister out of there that day, but he knew he couldn’t take care of her. The whole situation ate at him constantly and he spent more and more time away from home and on the streets, getting in fights again and barely escaping arrest more than once.
He was sixteen when he finally snapped and told the Colonel how he felt. He’d walked in and found his old man drunk again, once again wallowing in his self-pity, and once again it had nothing to do with Rosie, who he hadn’t seen in months. Jace was staring at him, thinking of everything he wanted to say when the old man, drool on his chin and the whole bit, looked up at him and said:
“What?”
“I hate you,” Jace told him.
The Colonel didn’t look surprised, or mad. He just looked drunk. The tone of his voice told Jace he didn’t care even if his face hadn’t. “And?”
“And that’s it. I just fucking hate you. You’re pathetic. I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember. You’re a horrible father and Rosie is better off without you. We would all be better off without you.”
“Then leave,” was the Colonel’s curt reply. When Jace didn’t move he raised his voice and said, “Get the fuck out. Go, and see how much better off you are. Maybe Myrna will take you in.” He laughed, an ugly, dark laugh. “Or maybe not, since she can’t stand the sight of you. It’s probably why she left. The thought of looking at you all summer long was just too much for her to stomach.”
Jace had his fists doubled up at his sides. He could feel his heart racing and his breaths shortening. He had been angry with the Colonel most of his life, but at that moment, he wanted to kill him. There was only one single thing that kept him alive that day. Jace couldn’t bear the thought of being put in prison and never getting to see his sister again. He packed a small bag, and he left. From there he made his way to Connecticut, sometimes walking, others hitchhiking, riding in the back of someone’s truck…when he finally got there, he knocked on Myrna’s door. He never planned on asking her to take him in. He knew that what the Colonel said, as mean and vicious as it was, was the truth. Myrna hated the sight of him, but Rosie’s love for him was his saving grace. All he asked Myrna for was that he could visit his sister once a week, and maybe take a shower while he was there. He was actually surprised when she agreed. Sadly, she didn’t ask him where he would be staying, or if he had food, or money…but he didn’t dwell on that. All he needed from her was access to his sister. He’d figure out the rest.
He looked hard for a job, nearly starving to death in the process. He didn’t have any work experience, but he wasn’t looking for a conventional job. He knew that no one would be willing to hire him, at his age to boot, but he was determined. Rosie was his motivation. She needed him. He knew that the Colonel and Myrna didn’t believe that…but he knew it, in his heart. She was the only person on earth that loved him, or needed him, and he’d fight to the death for that if he had to.
It took almost two weeks of sleeping on park benches and scavenging food from dumpsters before he finally stumbled onto an opportunity that just might have saved his life. He was walking along the pier, trying to find a trashcan where no one would see him looking for food, and he saw a sign for a dishwasher in one of the restaurant windows. It was a tiny little Jamaican food place and when Jace looked in the window he saw one little dark-skinned waitress and a man in the grill window with dark skin and a mustache, wearing a net over his hair. The seating capacity was probably only twenty at the most and it looked like there were at least thirty people at the tables and another ten in line. Nervously, he went inside. Between his size and all the people, the place felt somewhat claustrophobic, but the smells of what was coming out of the kitchen caused his poor, empty stomach to rumble.
He had to wade through irritable people to get up to the counter where the waitress was picking up an order. “Excuse me.”
“You have to wait.” She had a thick accent. Jace had never heard anyone from Jamaica speak, but since he was in a Jamaican food place, he assumed that’s what it was.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to order anything. I’m here to ask about the job.” She stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him. She ran her dark eyes over him and said:
“Any experience?”
“No
, ma’am, but…” She looked through the kitchen window and said something in another language. The man with the mustache stuck his head out and said:
“Can you start now?”
Jace smiled. “Yes, sir.”
“Get on back here, roll up your sleeves, and start washing. We’ll talk about the particulars later.” That first day Jace must have washed three hundred dishes, and it seemed like the people just kept coming. By the time Gabriel, the cook and apparent owner of the business, said it was time to close for the night, Jace was exhausted, starving, and close to passing out. He kept working, though, as the cook and waitress went through the process of shutting down for the night. Jace could hear them talking to each other but had no idea what they were saying. As he washed his last dish he felt a big hand on his shoulder. He didn’t like to be touched, so he jerked away and spun around. Gabriel put his big hands up and said, “Don’t hit me,” with a laugh. Jace forced a smile and said:
“I’m sorry. You scared me.”
“Come eat with us.” Gabriel waved his arm over to a tiny table in the corner of the kitchen where the waitress, Cedella, was already sitting. He hesitated for a second and Gabriel said, “Come, boy, I’m starving.” Jace went with him and hoped he didn’t have saliva on the sides of his mouth when he saw the spread. That night…and every night he worked for Gabriel and Cedella thereafter…he feasted like a king.
He told them the truth about his age, and situation. Cedella was skeptical, but Gabriel talked about coming to the US when he was young and being given a chance…and now he owned his own restaurant. He let Jace stay on, paid him in cash and food, and even let him sleep in the little storage building attached to the restaurant. The deal was that if the cops ever found him there, the owners knew nothing about it and if anyone ever asked to see his ID while he was working, he’d go into the kitchen to get it, leave out the back, and not come back. It was a good deal for a boy freshly sixteen years old with nothing else. He would have worked just for the roof over his head and the food, but his employers were too good for that; they paid him as well, and when he bused tables, Cedella even shared her tips. Jace wouldn’t say he was happy, but he was finally content for a while, and he was so close to Rosie that he managed to eventually get Myrna to let him see her twice a week. By the time he was seventeen and Rosie was almost seven, he had her saying her own name, his name, mama, and several other things. Myrna never said anything to him about it, but Jace noticed that she had become slightly warmer toward him and even offered him snacks now when he came to visit.
Along the way that year, Jace met his new friend, Sonny. Sonny worked at a shrimp cocktail stand a few places down from Gabriel’s place. Jace had taken up smoking while he was on the streets, in an effort to fight the hunger for as long as he could. When he went out for a cigarette break at work, he often saw Sonny. Sonny was the complete opposite of Jace. He talked all the time, to anyone, whether they were listening or not. He was loud and fancied himself a comedian. At first, the way he’d done every other person his own age all his life, Jace ignored the other teenager. Sonny didn’t give up easily, however, and after a while they were taking breaks together, sharing food, cigarettes, and stories of the hot girls they’d seen on the pier.
Jace felt more than a little awkward when it came to talking about girls. He’d never had a girlfriend. He never even talked to girls since he went to an all-boy school for so long. He wouldn’t have any idea what to say to one; just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach. He was sure if he ever tried to kiss one, he might just throw up all over her. For a while, he lived vicariously through Sonny’s stories, and as much porn as he could afford to rent. Thankfully, they never asked for ID because he looked so much older than he was. But that got old, his urges got worse, and he let Sonny talk him into going with him to his favorite pick-up bar. They’d ordered their beer and then Sonny had pointed out the girls he told Jace about. There were three of them. They were dressed in revealing tops that resembled bras and tiny skirts that barely covered their asses. They had long legs and their feet were in stilettos, which Jace thought was extremely sexy.
The women looked older than the boys, and a little rough around the edges…but clean…and at this point that was all Jace was looking for…clean, and willing. Sonny told him that for a few bucks, one of the girls would give a guy a hand-job in the bathroom. Twenty-five would get you a blowjob, and for full-on fucking it was $50.00 an hour. Sonny told Jace it was a bargain, and well worth it. Jace would have paid three times that if he had it…he had to get laid. Of course he was also a nervous wreck and afraid he’d screw it up somehow.
“Go talk to them,” Sonny said. Jace shook his head.
“Not yet, I need another drink.”
“Look, the blonde is already talking to that old guy. You’ve decreased your choices, man, but it’s okay because the redhead is the best fuck anyway. Her name is Ginger…”
Jace cocked an eyebrow. “Her name is Ginger?”
“That’s what she calls herself. Who the hell cares anyway? It’s not like you’re gonna marry her. Go buy her a drink.”
Jace looked over at the girls again. The redhead was looking at him and when their eyes locked, she smiled and ran her tongue across her bottom lip. Her eyes darted over to Sonny then and Jace looked to his right and saw that his friend had crooked his finger and was beckoning her over. As she began to walk in their direction, Jace elbowed his friend. “I told you to let me do it.”
“You weren’t doing it.” The girl was close enough all of a sudden for Jace to smell her soft perfume. “Hey, Ginger, how’s it going?” Sonny asked.
“Hey, Sonny. Who’s your friend?”
“Jace, this is Ginger. Ginger, Jace.”
The woman smiled up at Jace again. She wasn’t bad-looking, but the fact that she’d had a hard life was etched into her face. Jace was so horny he honestly wouldn’t care if she was ugly…but he desperately wanted this awkward part to be over. “Hi there,” Ginger said, stepping so close that her legs brushed against him as she slid onto the stool next to his. “You’re a nice big one.”
Jace felt his body heat up. The heat started at his toes and quickly made its way up into his face and out to his ears. “Hi,” he said, shyly. Sonny kicked Jace in his leg underneath the bar. Jace frowned at his friend and then put his eyes back on Ginger and asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” she purred. “But why don’t you buy yourself one too and get them to go. We can go enjoy them upstairs in my room.”
“Are you finished working?”
She giggled and said, “That depends. You looking for any services tonight?”
He was so hot that he was afraid smoke might be coming out of his ears and nostrils. “What kind of services, ma’am?”
She cocked an eyebrow and said, “Up to you, sailor.”
“Oh, I’m not…” Jace realized, as he was about to deny his military service, that she was flirting. She put her hand on his arm and his entire body tingled as she ran her fingers softly across his skin, tracing the path of the vein there. He was having a hard time catching his breath and finally Sonny said:
“He wants to talk to you upstairs, Ginger…he needs the hour session of therapy…and this will be his first visit…” Jace elbowed him. “Ow! Shit! I’m trying to help.”
Jace had taken his eyes off Ginger for just a second. Before he could respond to Sonny, he felt the hand she had on his arm drop to his crotch. He sucked in a hard breath and turned back toward her. Suddenly it was like everything he’d seen when he looked at her the first time…the bags under her eyes and the smoker’s lines around her mouth had vanished. His young, completely inexperienced body was responding to her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. “You need somebody to talk to, honey?” Jace nodded. Ginger left her hand in his lap, over his hardening, twitching cock as she looked at the bartender and said, “Stan, give us a bottle. We’re going to go talk upstairs.” Stan handed her a bottle
of whiskey and two glasses and she stood, letting the hand that was touching Jace fall to her side. He immediately missed it and wanted it back. He stood too, holding onto the bar for help with his shaky legs. Ginger handed him the whiskey and glasses and slid an arm through his. She led him through the bar and up the stairs. She let go of him again, long enough to unlock the first door at the top landing. He saw a bed, two chairs and a dresser and lamp in the room. The bed reminded him what he was there to do and he felt himself getting nervous again…but thankfully, Ginger was a professional.
“Come in and close the door, baby. We need privacy if we’re going to ‘talk.’” Jace closed the door and locked it. Ginger smiled at him and said, “How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” he lied. He was seventeen, but only for a few more months. He watched Ginger sit on the edge of the bed and pat the spot next to her.
“Good. Come sit with me, but first, put what you’d like to in my tip jar there.” Jace looked at the Mason jar on the night stand and pulled a crumpled fifty-dollar bill out of his pocket. He dropped it into the jar. Ginger smiled and said, “Thank you, baby, now we’re ready to have a conversation you won’t ever forget.”
4
Ginger stood up and began slowly peeling off the small amount of clothing she was wearing. Jace’s dark eyes were glued to every curve of her body. He had imagined this moment, his first time, thousands of times since he hit puberty. Of course he’d never imagined it would be with a prostitute old enough to be his mother, but even imagination wasn’t always what it was cracked up to be. As soon as she popped open her bra and he was standing two feet away from a beautiful pair of breasts he thought, “Imagination be damned. I’m alone with a naked woman…in the flesh.” Ginger shook her shoulders slightly as she reached up to take the elastic band out of her hair and her boobs jiggled back and forth, bouncing off each other and making Jace’s heart race faster. Her dark red hair spilled down in curls across her pale shoulders and Jace had to lick his dry lips. When her hands went to the button on her skirt she said, “Take your clothes off, baby.”
