by Lisa Gerkey
My hands shake, and everything hurts, but I push through it and get into the shower. I need to wash away the filth from last night.
I make it quick so I can finish before Mr. Unknown wakes up and joins me.
While I scrub my body, I mull over the past, even though there’s nothing I can do now to change anything. This always happens when the drugs run out. It’s the main reason I need them. I don’t like remembering. People tell me I can find better ways to deal with my problems, but I don’t believe them. Those people haven’t walked in my shoes. They haven’t had to carry around the heavy burdens that are weighted on my shoulders.
I spent a few weeks in rehab. Jaycee and her hotshot boyfriend thought they were doing me a favor when they locked me away. It did nothing. Only gave me time to linger on shit I can’t change.
I love Jaycee because she’s my sister, but a part of me hates her because she’s always had a comfortable life… well, she did until I moved in with her a few years ago. I made nothing easy for her.
Bad stuff happened, and most of it was because of me… and her husband… ex-husband. Dead ex-husband… I shot him when he attacked Jaycee. I stopped the bastard from raping her. If I could go back, I would’ve finished him long before then.
I rub my skin harder to wipe away the memories of David’s filthy hands on me. I can’t get rid of the feeling, no matter how hard I try.
Many men have touched me since then, but it’s his touch I can’t forget; his rough, callused hands groping my body. He came into my room one night — many more nights after the first time — a short while after I moved in with them. I thought Jaycee was aware and didn’t care. Now I know that isn’t true. She never knew until I told her right before I killed him.
When I exit the bathroom to the tiny room on the other side, the stranger is sitting on the edge of the bed, naked. He looks up and smirks when he hears me. “Come here, babe.” He moves the sheet to the side to display his hard dick. Nothing impressive. It’s no wonder I can’t remember having sex last night.
I pick his clothes up off the floor and toss them on the bed. “Get out. Party’s over.”
***
I park my beat-up Focus in the usual spot behind the club where I work. I worked in Memphis at a different strip club a while back, but the cops shut it down and put the owner in jail. Devlin O’Hare was my old boss, and he’s the organizer of the auction that took place the same night the cops raided the club and took him to jail.
David is the one who got me started on this life. Drugs and sex. That’s all I’ve known for a long time. At least it’s a long time for someone my age.
I feel guilty for everything that happened to Jaycee when Malcolm Phoenix had her kidnapped. It was me he wanted. She’ll never know the hell I went through with David when she wasn’t there. I’d say it’s a tie for which one of us ended up with the worst monster.
After everything she went through, I did everything I could to keep David from going after her. He wanted her money. Jaycee left him with plenty when they divorced, but he knew when I turned twenty-one, I’d have access to my share of the inheritance our parents left for us.
David wanted every cent of our money. He snapped and went crazy, and he kidnapped us both. I pulled the trigger and killed him.
Right before all that happened, David forced me to enter an auction. Someone paid a lot of money for me. I discovered who my new owner is. Since David is dead and Devlin is in jail, I don’t know who got the money he paid for me. If I had to guess, I’d say my new owner scammed them both.
There are others like Malcolm Phoenix, David Jennings, and Devlin O’Hare out there in the world. They could live in your neighborhood without you having a clue. Sometimes they live multiple lives. They could be a saint in one town, and then they drive or fly miles away to where they are the complete opposite kind of person. Might even be someone’s mother or father.
No one can consider my new owner a decent person. He’s as vicious as they come. I’ve tried to get away from him, but he knows about the inheritance, and he knows I have ties to his past. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.
He wants Lindsey. It’s me he owns, but she’s the one he’s after, the only one he wants. He’s had eyes on her since she ran away from him, but she’s always surrounded and protected by her friends. He hasn’t been able to get to her. I’m forced to live in this hell with him until he finds the perfect moment to slip his slimy hands in and take her… then I have to give him my money.
He swears when all that’s done, he’ll set me free.
He’s lying. If I want my freedom back, I must find a way to get it. Problem is I’m not strong enough to do that. I depend on Jayson Phoenix too much. I know no other way to get the drugs that make my life bearable.
One day I’ll find the strength. One day I’ll walk away from everything. The drugs, the crime. I’ll no longer be anyone’s victim. I’ll be a woman that would make my parents proud.
All these promises are nothing but a lie I keep feeding myself, so I don’t feel so sorry for where I’ve ended up. I want to escape, change, be different – normal and healthy, but I don’t see how it’s possible.
I don’t say anything to anyone. I might have mixed feelings for my sister, but I don’t want any more bad shit to happen to her. Jayson says his men will go after her if I ever open my mouth. He has eyes and ears all over the place—in Nashville, and one or two in Kentucky where he says Lindsey lives now.
Before I go inside the club to get my night started, I find the bottle of pills hidden in the console of my car. I pour several into my hand and swallow them down with a sip of coke from a can that’s been in my car since yesterday.
No amount of rehab can convince me I’d be better off without the drugs. It’s the only way I’ll get through another night doing the shit he’ll make me do. Pills aren’t enough, but they’re the best I can do until I see Jayson. For a price, he’ll give me the good stuff. The rush hits me quicker when it flows through my veins.
Jayson doesn’t own the clubs where he does business, but he claims several girls he forces to work in the disgusting places. I’m just one of many.
My heels click on the oatmeal colored tile as I make my way down the narrow hall to the little office he uses when he’s here. Every day, I pray it might be the day when he isn’t around to give orders, but when I push the door open, I see it’s not today.
“Get your goddamn ass in here and close the door.”
A girl I’ve never seen before kneels on the other side of the desk. He pushes her head away and zips his pants. The poor girl’s eyes are wide. She can’t hide her fear. She drags away from Jayson’s reach and kneels in an empty corner. I want to help her. I’m sure she’s the latest victim. Who knows where they snagged her? I can’t help her. I can’t even help myself. All I can do is force myself to look the other way. Pretend I see nothing. I’ve had to do that often. Gets no easier though.
“What… what do you need me to do tonight, sir?”
“You and I are driving to Bowling Green as soon as I have everything in order here. I have plans for you tonight, Kennedy, and I don’t believe you want to let me down, do you?”
The pills I took earlier kick in a little, creating a small buzz. A whole new Kennedy, different Kennedy, finds her way out. I need this feeling when I deal with the scumbags. I giggle a little though I don’t know why. Nothing is funny. “As you wish, sir. I’ll go get a drink and wait for you at the bar.”
I climb onto a barstool and order a Cosmo with extra vodka. Bliss soon turns to misery as I sip on my drink.
Images, one by one, flash in my head. One big slideshow I can’t turn off no matter how hard I try. The nasty men I’ve been with. I’d say none of it’s my fault, but I didn’t say no, not every time. Maybe I’m just as sick as they are.
My arms itch and then my neck. The itch moves. My skin crawls. I can’t keep up with it. I fidget and scratch one spot and then move on to the next. It’s a side effect
of the pills. It happens every time.
I was seventeen when David came into my room. I was angry with Jaycee, and I wanted her to catch the bastard messing with me. She never did, so the joke was on me. David didn’t just give me my first sexual experiences; he gave me my first taste of alcohol and the drugs soon followed. Jaycee never knew. When he went to the bar—a place he often went to spend the night drinking, messing with women, and conducting his shady business, I followed him. I’d wait outside the liquor store while he bought stuff for my friends and me. Then, he slipped us a joint here and there… and a few pills later. The pills led to stronger drugs. My friends and their parents got smart. Everyone soon ditched me and my bad influences, leaving me with David as my only companion.
David Jennings taught me everything I know.
I’m sipping my third drink when Jayson shows up at the bar. We exchange only a few words as he drags me to the parking lot and puts me in the passenger seat of his car.
After a few miles, I fall asleep.
“Hi, pretty girl. What’s your name?” He appears out of nowhere in the alley behind the strip club. His dark hair is neatly styled, and he has a small patch of hair growing on his chin and a mustache. The nightlight shines down, casting a glow, so I get the perfect view of the man standing over me.
I’m in the alley, I should be nervous.
Can’t be any worse than the assholes inside, I remind myself.
“I’m Kennedy. I haven’t seen you around here. No offense or anything, but you don’t look like you fit in with the crowd that’s usually here.”
I take a drink from the bottle and set it back on the ground between my legs.
“No offense taken, darling. It might surprise you where I’d fit in. You can’t always judge a man because of his looks, you know? I know I’m a sexy fucker and all, but…”
His playfulness makes me giggle. I don’t think any guy has ever made me laugh. His southern accent joined with a hint of gravel in his voice, makes me… it makes me feel something. I’m not sure what I feel… alive, perhaps.
Drunk. I feel drunk. Nothing more. I’m incapable of real feelings.
“Can I have a drink?” He points to the bottle of vodka between my legs. My face grows warm when I realize he’s getting an eye full. The short skirt I’m wearing rides up, revealing the white panties I’m wearing.
It makes no sense. Men see me all the time. All of me. Why do I feel shy and embarrassed with this one?
I look up when I hand him the bottle. The smirk on his face and the wicked way he’s looking at me is enough to light my cotton underwear on fire.
“I told you my name… it’s only fair if you tell me yours.”
“Josh. Maddox. I’m not from around here.”
Good. He doesn’t know me. Maybe for once, I don’t have to hide.
He takes a long swig of vodka and returns the bottle to its original resting spot between my legs, grazing my inner thigh with his knuckle. “You look lost, Kennedy. It’s late. An alley, even with a light, can’t be too safe for a beautiful young woman like you.”
Beautiful? This dude is crazy or blind. Can’t he see I’m wasted and my soul is as torn and tattered as the jeans he’s wearing? If he only knew.
He doesn’t know, so I don’t know why I tell him. I have no reason to tell him anything. The liquor running through my veins makes it challenging to keep my mouth shut. It’s rare I find a pair of ears willing to listen.
“Does it bother you I take my clothes off to please men? Night after night that’s what I do… I don’t just take my clothes off for them, I do everything… anything… they tell me to do. Doesn’t that make you sick? Makes you want to run the other way, doesn’t it?”
Josh sits down on the cracked and dirty pavement right in front of me and looks at me.
Just like all the rest, he’s judging me. I drop my head to avoid the disgust I’d see if I paid attention. The men who use me always judge me and tell me how unworthy and disgusting I am.
I jump a little, shocked when he uses a finger under my chin to guide my face up, so I’m looking at him. There’s something raw and honest in his eyes. Just looking at him makes me want to be a better person. His touch is the gentlest I’ve ever known from a man.
“It bothers you, doesn’t it, sweetheart? You don’t like doing those things? I’m not here to judge. If you’re unhappy, get out.”
“I… I can’t. It’s my life. I just have to live with it. I don’t have a choice.”
I take another drink and pass the bottle to him. When he takes it, I pull a cigarette from the pack lying beside me, put it to my lips, and light it.
“You’ve got all kinds of nasty habits, don’t you, Kennedy? You know smoking will kill you.”
I don’t know how long he was there, but Josh and I talk for hours. We traded stories. He knows I’m a whore. I know he’s a tattoo artist. I also know he dislikes his job almost as much as I hate mine. Somehow, I ended up in his arms with my head on his chest. Good thing it was warm outside because we both fell asleep in that alley, his back against the dirty concrete wall, my whole body snuggled into him.
When I woke up, he was gone.
A few days later, I found he’d put his number on my phone.
If only I could have a man like Josh someday. If only… a girl can dream. All some of us have that’s worth holding onto is our dreams.
Chapter Three
Josh
I try to concentrate on the small sanctuary. Staci will expect details when I get home. I can’t focus on shit though. My mind is everywhere besides church. Definitely not the church.
“What do you think, young man? Do you think my church will be to your little lady’s liking?”
Pastor Reynolds stands a few feet to my left while I look around at everything.
I feel guilty as hell standing in the house of the Lord. I don’t think I’m a terrible man, but I don’t live the life that I’m sure those who go to church here do.
That I always dream of a woman who isn’t my fiancé is proof.
I don’t plan to confess my sins, or at least not that one, anytime soon. How could I ever explain Kennedy to anyone? One night is all I had with her. I didn’t even fuck her. Fuck my life. Now I’m thinking about fucking Kennedy while standing in church… beside a preacher no less.
“I think it’ll do just fine, sir. I came to church here a few times when I was younger. Jeff and I used to come to bible school. We never missed a summer… Anyway, I just wanted to see inside to refresh my memory. Can I take a few pictures so I can send them to Staci? She wanted to come, but she’s tied up with her family.”
The preacher studies me for a few minutes. “You don’t remember me, do you? Not that there’s any reason you should. You didn’t know…”
I drop my head while I try to remember my childhood. Some people swear they remember everything, but I only have a few fragments. A few moments stick out more than others. I search my memory until I recall the preacher’s name that was here before. “Nathaniel… was the preacher here when Jeff and I were kids?”
“Nathaniel was my father. My name is Matthew. I moved back here when my father became too ill to care for himself and take care of the church. He passed a few years ago. I helped out a little through the years before all of that though. I saw you and Jeffrey a few times. My father was fond of you boys. We always wanted it to be different, but… life takes us where we’re meant to go sometimes. Why don’t you look around? Make yourself at home. I’m going to the house next door. It’s time for my medicine.”
“Do you want me to lock up?” I feel like there’s more I should say, but I don’t know what it is. Perhaps if I spend time here, I’ll have a clearer picture of what the old man is talking about. I always thought the past should stay buried. That’s the reason I’ve forgiven my father’s behavior and moved on without holding grudges. I’m a man now. Responsible for the choices I make and the paths I take. I never saw a reason to linger on the stuff I can’t c
hange.
“Nah. I leave the doors unlocked. You never know when a lost soul will get a hankering to talk to God. I don’t want a locked door to stand in their way. If somebody’s up to no good, a locked door won’t keep them out.”
It’s good to know the old man wants to help people, just as I do.
After Matthew leaves, I sit down in the back pew. I feel more relaxed than I have in months. I don’t know if it’s because I’m in my hometown, because of the little church, or merely the peace and quiet. Could be that I need all three.
I scan through the music on my phone to find a song Staci wants to play at our wedding. Keeper of the Stars by Tracy Byrd plays, and I close my eyes.
I try to imagine Staci walking down the aisle with her long white dress flowing behind her, her blonde hair twisted tight on top of her head. I try to get that picture in my head.
All I can see is a woman lost in a dark alley.
Her hair isn’t perfect. Far from it.
Her long, wild hair is at least three colors— a little brown, a little red, with a few strings of blonde mixed in. Looks like a few tries with dollar store hair dye gone bad.
Oddly, I have no trouble picturing her walking down the aisle in the white dress. It doesn’t bother me too much when I imagine I hear Pastor Reynolds announcing we’re husband and wife.
Josh and Kennedy Maddox.
When I think about my lips touching hers…
A racket from somewhere in the church shakes me from the daydream.
I shut the music off and get up to look. I scour the whole place and come up empty-handed. I find nothing that caused the noise.
It’s probably God trying to scare sense into me for having indecent thoughts inside his sacred house. At least that’s what I convince myself.
