by Fiona Wilde
Naomi threw the duffle bag on the bed, ignoring the sounds of Eric pounding on the door as she stuffed the bag with her belongings. She had to get out, had to leave. What had she been thinking, coming back here. What on earth had made her think her family and the church would offer her anything real.
On the bedside table the phone began to buzz. She picked it up and looked down a the screen, expecting to see it was Eric calling from outside in the hopes of calming her down. But it wasn't. It was Jasper.
Naomi closed her eyes. She'd swore she'd never talk to him again. But did she have a choice? The idea of returning to her old life had been painful just a day ago. Now it felt more painful to stay.
"Hello."
"Hello, angel. I knew you'd answer."
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Your voice is shaking. You been crying, baby?"
She wiped a tear away. "No," she lied. "I just woke up."
"On a Sunday? I thought you'd be in church?" he said.
"I don't go to church." The words were out before she could stop him.
She heard his silky laugh on the other end of the line.
"I knew my fallen angel wouldn't make the climb back up," he purred.
New tears slipped down her face as her hand went to her shoulder. A mental image of her on her belly in the tattoo parlor, Jasper's hand on her bottom as he watched the artist ink the angel onto her back and shoulder.
"Sounds like someone's ready to come home and go back to work," he coaxed.
Naomi stood and looked out the window. She could see that Eric had given up. He was walking back towards the church, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Maybe," she said. "As long as you agree to my conditions, Jasper. It's just temporary."
"Oh, of course," he said, and the amusement in his voice made her want to reach through the phone and slap the smugness off his face.
"Don't act like you're humoring me or I won't do it," she said. "I'm serious."
"OK, angel." He sounded more serious. Or at least was pretending to.
"I'll, um....I'll need fare back."
"No problem. Just give me the number of the nearest Western Union and I'll wire you some spending money and buy you a bus ticket online."
She hesitated, closing her eyes against the tears threatening to fall anew. Her heart thudded in her chest.
"Alright," she said.
"I'll text you with the bus information."
"Thanks."
"No," he said. "Thank you. Do you have any idea how many men ask about you at the club? At least a dozen every day. They haven't forgotten their angel. They can't wait to welcome you back."
She laughed at the irony. A genuine welcome. Fancy that.
"I'll look for the text," she said.
"You do that." He clicked off and she sat there in silence. Naomi put the phone down on the table. When she did her hand came in contact with the Bible her mother had placed on the bedside table. Picking it up she flung it across the room and then lay on the bed to allow herself one good, last cry before leaving home for good.
Chapter Eight
Naomi didn't let on that she was leaving. She knew if she did Eric would try to stop her. Her parents she wasn't so sure about. There was a luncheon after the church service, but neither her mother nor father came to the house to check on her or ask her to attend. Eric did, letting himself in the through the kitchen and then coming down the hall to knock on her bedroom door.
"Naomi, please."
She'd heard him through the Walkman blasting strains of Slayer through the earphones. Pulling them off she considered opening the door, inviting Eric in, hearing him out. But she didn't. She'd been ridiculous all along to think they could work. This was the best for everyone.
"I..I need time to think, OK?" she said. "Could you just give me that?"
"Naomi, I love you."
She closed her eyes, feeling her heart twist. The pain was palpable. She felt a lump form in her throat and swallowed it. He didn't. He didn't love her. If he loved her he would haven't been so afraid to show it.
But she wasn't going to argue that point anymore. And she wasn't going to let on that she was planning to leave.
"If you love me you'll give me my space," she said. "I need time, Eric. We'll talk tomorrow, OK?"
"Promise?"
She closed her eyes. By tomorrow she'd be gone, but what was one more lie from someone as sinful as she.
"Promise."
"I'll hold you to it, Naomi."
"Yeah, you do that."
She waited. She could sense him still standing outside her room. Finally she saw the shadow outside her door move away. A moment door the kitchen door shut. She turned her headphones back on.
The ghosts of sin
Torment the priests
Their altar will soon be destroyed
Heave's palace
Turning black
The church now belongs to the dead
Blackened magic
Lucifer rules supreme
The crystal ball shows unknown fate
The last thing that's heard is screams
Naomi had started listening to Slayer when she'd first left home. The lyrics were too angry. But she listened because she saw it as another expression of her rebellion against the church and family she felt was trying to stifle her. It had motivated her, reminded her that she wasn't the only one who felt betrayed by religion. Mood music.
The cell phone sitting on her stomach vibrated. She picked it up and looked at it. The text message from Jasper had arrived. Her bus left at 11 p.m. from the Greyhound station. He'd prepaid her ticket. One way to L.A.
Another text arrived a moment later.
Pinnacle awaits return of its angel. Knew u would not last long at home. LOL.
Naomi took a ragged breath and threw her arm across her eyes. Everything about Pinnacle came back to her in an ugly rush - the pulsating beat, the stale smell of smoke, the leering catcalls of the audience, the bright lights so hot they left a sheen of sweat on her skin, the ache in her calf from the high heels....
By the end of the night she'd be exchanging this world for that one. Again. She closed her eyes and tried to find something in her situation to look forward to.
There were the other dancers, Candy and Marcia. They didn't judge her. They could relate to her because they had to endure the same things - the crazy hours, the rude, lascivious customers, the unappreciative bosses.
And then there was L.A. itself. She was practically drab compared to some of the characters she encountered on a day-to-day basis - men and even women with orange mohawks, full-colors sleeve tattoos and all-leather wardrobes. No one looked at her askance; on the days she didn't have to work no one even looked at her at all.
But ultimately Naomi didn't need to talk herself into leaving. Her parents convinced her, by not coming to her room to check on her or ask her to join them for dinner. It was clear to their daughter that her worth to them - and theirs to themselves - lay not in Christ but in being perceived as Christians by those around them.
And Eric? Naomi promised herself she'd hold on to the positive memories, while reminding herself never to fall for a preacher again.
She got tired of listening to Slayer but still lay on the bed, listening instead to her parents' predictable evening routine. The door to her father's office open and shut several times. In her mother's room, the sewing machine whirred. The evening news played on the television and then they went to bed.
Naomi had already packed her duffle bag, only leaving with what she'd brought. The rest she left behind, even the jeans she'd been so excited to have her mother buy for her.
Ten o'clock. The house was quiet. Naomi dared not risk going out the door so she went out the window, opening it first and listening outside before dropping her duffle bag into the bushes and following it with a soft thud.
She hated the idea of hitch-hiking. It was dangerous. But she really had no choice
. She wouldn't borrow her parents' car without permission. They may not be the most caring parents, but they deserved better than that.
Naomi cut through the neighborhood, padding quietly so as not to alert people's dogs. Some barked anyway. A man yelled for his to be quiet. A sprinkler system came on in one yard, forcing her to sprint away from the jet of water.
Branford Park lay between the neighborhood and the highway. The moonlit nature trails gave Naomi the creeps. She jogged quickly, not looking up when she heard things rustling in the leaves.
She thought of Eric and how safe he'd made her feel. Then she stopped, put on her headphones and pumped up the Slayer to drown out the noise and her own lingering sentimentality.
When the hum of the main highway became loud enough to compete with the music Naomi pulled off her headphones and emerged from the woods, careful to avoid the beer bottles and litter on the ground. She'd never understood how people could be so wasteful or disrespectful of the earth, but this was the Bible belt. Most felt they had dominion over it. They could throw their crap all over the place and once there got to be too much, well then that's why God made prison work crews.
She hated sticking her thumb out but did it anyway. When a car slowed down with more than one occupant she dropped her arm and stepped away. One person she could deal with if things got out of hand. But two? No way.
After stepping away from the side of the road to avoid several sketchy vehicles Naomi allowed herself to seriously consider the green sedan driven by what looked to be an elderly woman. But when the car pulled over Naomi could see it was an older man at the wheel. He was slight and wore wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like a retired librarian or teacher.
"Lost?" he asked as he rolled down his window. "It's not safe to be walking on this highway, young lady. You could get hit."
Naomi took a tentative step over to the car and looked inside. It was tidy. An air freshener in the shape of a pine tree hung from the rearview mirror.
"Yeah, I know," she said. "I normally wouldn't do this but a friend was supposed to give me a ride to the bus station but never showed and I can't afford a cab."
He nodded sympathetically.
"Well you don't want to take risks if you don't need to. I'm going that way. You want a ride?"
Naomi smiled. "Sure."
She got good vibes from the man and slid into the front seat without hesitation.
"So where you from?"
"Clarksville," she lied.
"What do you do?"
"I'm a student." It was a safer answer than waitress. If she'd said that he'd want to know where.
"Good," he said. "Education is really important. I was a principal for years."
Naomi felt herself sigh with relief. Good. That meant he was safe.
"So where you going?"
"Pennsylvania." It was the first thing off the top of her head. "To see my aunt."
He smiled at her. "I used to travel every summer by train when I was a boy to see my aunt and uncle in North Carolina. I cropped tobacco for ten hours a day. God, I hated it, but when I grew up I appreciated those summers working hard."
"I'm Kent, by the way. Kent Salisbury."
"Hi, Mr. Salisbury. I'm Chloe."
"Nice to meet you Chloe."
He looked at her and smiled again. Naomi could see her reflection in his glasses. Her face was smooth and relaxed. She was becoming a better liar.
The car turned off the exit. The bus station parking lot wasn't crowded, so Naomi was surprised when her good Samaritan pulled into a space several hundred yards from the front. Not that it mattered that much; she didn't mind walking.
"Thanks," she said, but just as she opened the door she felt his hand on her arm.
"Hey, beautiful. Not so fast. I know you're tight on money since you couldn't afford a cab, but that doesn't mean there's not other ways you can show your appreciation to a gentleman kind enough to offer you a ride."
His hand moved to his zipper and he grinned knowingly as he began to fish around inside his trousers for his penis.
"No," she said, "I don't think so."
But the grip on his arm was tight as she tried to pull away.
"Going to see your aunt. The hell you are," he said, grinning. "I can spot a little slut a mile away. What are you? Runaway? Prostitute? Druggie?"
"Fuck off," she said, and jerked hard this time, freeing her arm from his grip as she launched herself out of the car. "You fucking jerk. Let me guess. You went to church this morning, didn't you?"
"Yeah," he laughed. "I had to be there. I'm in the choir."
She shook her head. "God you're all alike."
"What do you care?" he asked. "Besides..." He began to stroke his flacid cock. "Don't you want to earn a little pocket money for your trip?"
"No thanks." She turned and jogged to the station, fighting the urge to throw up. So much for being a good liar.
The ticket was waiting for her at the window. Jasper had also wired her money at the Western Union office in the same building.
Naomi kept looking around, looking for signs of Kent Salisbury or for any other lecherous old men who might want to take advantage of her. The bus station was a great hunting ground for guys like that.
"Thanks," she muttered as she took the ticket.
The bus was just beginning to board. Naomi selected a seat towards the back and slumped down in it. She put her duffle bag in her lap and fished through it until she found her Walkman. Then she began to search for her cellphone.
"Damn."
She couldn't find it. Naomi began to panic. Jasper had told her to call him to let him know she'd picked up the ticket. She knew what he really wanted was some assurance that she wasn't getting cold feet or planning to double-cross him somehow.
"Where are you?" she asked, exasperated. As if the phone could hear her.
She took everything out, turned the bag inside out, searched the pockets of the bag, her pants, her purse, her jacket. No phone.
Now what? The bus was boarding. If she got off to use the payphone then it may leave without her. Naomi scanned the other passengers. Most of them looked grumpy. She'd at least let them get settled in before asking one if she could use their phone.
The door closed with a hiss and the engine rumbled to life. Naomi looked out the window as the bus pulled from the lot and merged onto the freeway. The road climbed and now they were on the overpass. She looked back and saw her neighborhood and the church in the distance. A little spotlight was trained on the steeple. The cross got smaller and smaller as the bus traveled until it disappeared.
She wiped a tear away from her face and turned on Slayer. The CD played a quarter of the way through before the battery in her walkman died.
She put her head down on the back of the seat and went to sleep.
The dream was pleasant.
Naomi was sitting at a picnic table under a huge willow tree. A warm breeze lifted the branches and dropped them back down, like fingers through hair. A pair of heavy chimes hung from one of the branches. The sound they made was melodious.
She wore a summery, long dress with a fitted top. It was bright blue. Her hair was loose.
"You look beautiful."
She looked up to see Eric standing in front of her.
"Eric!" She stood and walked into his embrace.
"I missed you," he said. "But I knew you'd come back."
"Of course you did. How could I stay away from the greatest guy in the world?"
He pushed her back a little.
"You should have known better than to have left, though. It's a dangerous world out there."
She looked down. "I know."
"I can't let this go unpunished."
He sat down on the edge of the picnic table. Naomi felt herself shudder as he pulled her across his lap.
"You know you need this," he said. "You know you need this to feel safe, to be safe."
He began to spank her, first over her dress and then over her panties as he
raised the hem. She cried out - a little yelp for each smack. She bit her lip when the tempo of the spanks increased and began to cry softly.
But she did not fight. She'd been wrong to leave, and she deserved the punishment Eric was giving her.
When her bottom as red and sore he stood her up and pulled her to his chest she cried into his shoulder as he soothed her. Naomi felt grateful and protected and nurtured.
"I love you," she said.
"And I love you, too. And I promise to protect you from anything that would hurt you, and that includes yourself."
She clutched him and cried harder.
"Hey," he said. "Hey, hey..."
"HEY!"
She woke up with a start to find a young black man sitting beside her. His expression was concerned. He was shaking her shoulder. "Hey."
"You all right? You were crying."
Naomi sat up, hastily wiping her eyes. She felt embarrassed.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm fine. I just had a dream."
"Musta been some dream."
"Yeah."
"Name's Justin," the young man said. "You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette, would you?"
"No," she said. "But when we stop I'm going to get a pack. What kind do you smoke."
He laughed. "Damn girl, beggars can't be choosers. Whatever you're smoking. I wish I could buy some but I'm flat broke. But I got some Skittles if you're hungry."
"Skittles?" She sat up and smiled. "Sure."
He pulled a bag out of his pocket. "Here. Take as many as you want."
There was only half a bag left. It was probably all he had to his name. Naomi opened the bag, tipped it and took a small handful. Justin was the kind of kid that her father and other members of the church would look down on. And here he was sharing the last of his food with a stranger.
"Where you headed?" he asked.
"L.A."
"Yeah? Me too." He leaned back in the seat beside her. "My mom's in rehab. Again. My aunt just got out of the military. She wants me to come stay with her. Start college. Stuff like that."
"How old are you?" Naomi asked.
"Twenty," he said. "I finished high school but didn't go any further. May aunt, she's determined that somebody in our family besides her is going to make it out of the hood. She said I'm the best hope. I was a straight A student in school."
