Ruby painted her lips red, after slipping into some red leather. Her burgundy hair bounced outward, down and about as she flung her locks with her fingers--freeing them from the leather. Looking into a cracked mirror, in her rundown motel room that doubled as an apartment, she teased those black lashes. A little pink blush with a tap-tap-tap on one cheek, then the other. Not too much, otherwise she'll look like a doll and men today don't want a doll--they want a whore.
The door shutting behind her on its own, read Room 21.
Slipping her skinny biceps into black leather, the jacket clung to her torso. But she didn't zip up, that's where the moneymakers are hanging out. Walking barefoot, her feet adapted to the pavements and sidewalks they graced. It was the heels that hurt. She always carried them to her block, then put them on. A barefoot hooker just screamed hippie and that just didn't sell like it used to. This ain't no Woodstock, Mr. Walrus.
As she walked, she slipped her earphones in and listened to her Making Money soundtrack. It mostly consisted of AC/DC, Metallica and the such like. These songs put her in a groove, a beat and--unfortunately for her, but fortunately for others and then eventually fortunately for her--a mood.
Ruby had been working the streets for seven years now. She started at the tender age of 15, soon after leaving home. She was fed up with her father and his rules. She was gonna live her life the way she wanted and no two-timing, down-on-his-luck, impotent pervert trying to change his life for the better with a strict code was going to change that.
So at the corner of Jackson, Lincoln and bitter irony Ruby slipped into those heels and the role of slave. Pulling on the chain of the dog tags about her neck, she pulled them loose from the red leather and let them drape between her shoulders. Across the street she saw Blondie. Blondie was always threatening to take Ruby's turf. Ruby glared at her, bit her lip and gave her a finger--the worst one. Blondie smirked, quirked the head and returned the favor.
A man spoke from the shadows of the liquor store, "Hey... you a hooker or something?"
"Do I look like a hooker?"
"I don't know," the voice responded, "I've never met a hooker."
Ruby, rolling her eyes, responded, "Yeah, your mom was a peach, I'm sure. How do you want it?"
Walking into the street light, Jason Richard Wright looked nervous, "In the alley... I guess."
Walking into the alley, Ruby leading, it got darker and darker. All they could see were each others' silhouettes now, and his palms were sweating, "I, uh, got off early. I'm a janitor at the University; the power went out--the sent us home, they probably won't pay us. They never do with things like this, they expect us to use our vacation or personal hours. Even during terrorist threats, it's pretty stupid."
"You're on the clock pal," Ruby spoke, "Is this all you want? A chat?" A door opened and shed light on Ruby, a cook from the bar saw her, "Frankie, do you mind? I'm working here."
"Well, hurry it up, Ruby," the cook spoke, "I need a smoke."
As the door was shutting, Jason Richard Wright saw Rupert's name flashing in the night on medal. And then the darkness was back, their eyes adjusting again.
"Hey, how did you get those dog tags?"
"Dope off," Ruby said.
"You stole them didn't you?"
"DOPE OFF, buster."
"You did!" Jason Richard Wright screeched in the night and grabbed, grasping the dog tags in his fingers. Pulling towards himself, he tried to break them from about her neck but she caught his hand with one of her own. Jason Richard Wright felt two quick, sharp pains. One in the crotch, made with her knee. The other in his right side, a switchblade penetrating--he felt it scrape a rib. The switchblade was out as soon as it was in, he fell with the nausea to the ground. His head thumped and scratched across the trash bin. He felt her smaller fingers wrap around his right wrist and it was accompanied with two cold, metal fingers that completed a circle. She pulled his arm to the door and latched the other half of the handcuffs to the handle.
Running off out of the alley, Ruby saw the lights of the kitchen again piercing the night. Turning the corner, she was gone. The last she heard was Frankie screaming her name and dictating for someone to call the cops.
As Jason Richard Wright leaned against the door, bleeding on the kitchen floor, he laughed. He laughed as he never had. After all this time, he was brought down by a prostitute.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
6. Faye
David Spencer was sitting in his easy chair; Mercedes Masterson was making some coffee for the two of them. He looked upon her and admired the young detective who had followed in his footsteps. She too had joined the private sector after leaving the force. And, like he had hoped he would be, she was instrumental in bruising organized crime in Babylon. Spencer, on the other hand, wasn't young anymore. He was getting up there in years, but he still had his mind.
Mercedes had made these visits more common after his heart attack; it made him feel like he was the father no one wanted but one person felt obligated to visit him in his infirmities. But he didn't mind, she was good company. It was all just a little depressing. Deep down Spencer knew his life was quickly fleeting.
Sitting on his sofa, Mercedes handed him his coffee mug; and she smirked, "So you know this one was going to come up," after adjusting herself in the cushion, she looked to him, "Jason Richard Wright."
"Yeah," Spencer spoke, sipping his coffee, "He was bound to come up sooner or later."
"I'm curious," she started her inquiry, "How did you maintain your sanity? Well, that is, how did you not give up? That was a jacked up case."
Without hesitation, Spencer spoke two words, "Faye Brown."
"The runaway?"
"Yeah," his eyes were now going back somewhere, "Faye Brown. Only fifteen years old... whenever I got discouraged, I thought of her."
Faye Brown was petite, in all aspects of the word. She was skinny, weighing in at only 82 pounds. She was short, standing a not-so commanding four feet and seven inches. Her golden locks, wavy and long, made her easy prey for her teenage peers. She was cute, smart but troubled. Her parents were avid alcoholics. One night she decided she was tired of it and made a decision that was unlike most she made—an ignorant one. Faye decided to run away from home and join the teenage wasteland.
She hadn't made it very far when she stopped at a truck port just outside of Babylon. She was entering the big city for the first time, hailing from Riverside. Exiting the truck cab, she went inside to buy some snacks and pop. Then, she was going to try and find a new ride. Her company from Riverside was calling it a night, for a few hours. Faye, on the other hand, desired to put as much distance between her and the whiskey back in Riverside.
It was late at night and she mostly got turned down. Most men looked her over, but decided they would be getting in trouble if they picked up this girl. So, they would opt out and make up some lame excuse. But there was one gentleman who had been watching her for about ten minutes before she made her way to him, and he was beyond willing to give her a ride.
"Excuse me, Sir?" she asked innocently, "I wonder if you could give me a ride? I'm heading east—is that the direction your heading?"
"Sure."
"Could I get a ride, please?"
"Not a problem."
Inside Jason Richard Wright's 1993, red Ford Escort they spoke of many things. The actuality of it all was that Jason Richard Wright wasn't heading anywhere; he was there for a girl. And once he had his, he was ready. Though, he would have driven to Detroit if he had to.
"I was never good at math in high school."
"Oh, it's not that bad," Faye assured, "You just have to think within the box they give you. There's no thinking outside the box with math... or science for that matter."
"Yeah, I guess," Jason Richard Wright mostly asked questions. He didn't provide much in the way of actual conversation, he was too busy trying to get in as many glances to her body as he could. He would later admit that young and small was his preferred type. There was just something about it. Perhaps it was the control he had, since he wasn't a large man by any means. Someone smaller would be easier to handle. Though he had to admit, the small ones always had the softer skin, "What's the worst thing you've ever done?"
"The worst?" she asked, a little frightened.
Jason Richard Wright was just toying now, trying to get as much dirt as he could. The longer the conversation went, the hotter it got for him in his Escort, "Yeah... what's the worst thing?"
"I don't know..." she was becoming hesitant.
He felt like he was going to lose her at this point, "Well, like... did you ever do drugs?"
"No," she laughed, "That's stupid."
"What about... drink?"
She snarled, "No."
"Skinny dipping with the friends?"
Giggling, "No, thank goodness."
"What about sex?"
They set in silence. The radio managed to get through one song and a half. Across the sky, one could see the night was threatening to give way to the sun. Jason Richard Wright was so upset with himself. He was feeling like he'd reeled the fish in, and then threw the pole into the water. But finally, Faye spoke softly,
"There was this one time...
"Tommy Kilger, he's our quarterback. He took me out for Homecoming, which was like the coolest thing that had ever happened in my life. I was a freshman and he was a senior, and he took me to Homecoming. Well, it was fun for a while, but then he just couldn't stop... touching. I asked him to stop, but he kept on. He might stop for like one song, but then he'd start as soon as they'd play a stupid rap song or something and then he'd be grabbing and groping at me. And grinding... I hated it. Eventually, I told Tommy I wanted to leave. So, he argued, but then gave in. On the way home, he pulled over... it hurt. I've never bled so much in my life.
"At home, I just went to bed. The next morning I burned my dress... I don't know why I'm telling you this; I don't even know you and I've never told this to anyone. Needless to say, that was the last time I went out with Tommy Kilger."
Jason Richard Wright sat quietly for a moment, pondering what had just been said to him. As he slowly moved into the far right lane, he spoke again, "So he raped you?"
"Yeah," Faye spoke, folding her arms for warmth. It wasn't cold in the car, but it was a cold world that night.
"Why did you bleed?"
She rolled her eyes and sighed, "Because I was a virgin, and I wasn't ready."
"So it hurt?"
"Yeah."
Jason Richard Wright was getting confused and frustrated with the conversation, "But it felt good eventually, right?"
"No, it just hurt."
"At first," he demanded, "But eventually you liked it?"
"No!" she yelled, "When someone rapes you, it doesn't feel good. It never feels good."
He was fuming now, void of understanding, "But its sex, eventually it's going to feel good!"
"You know what? Pull over," Faye demanded, "I'm done with this conversation, you're stupid. I'll get a ride from someone else."
Jason Richard Wright didn't even hesitate; he pulled off on the next exit. They had managed to drive just outside of Babylon on the northeast side. Before he could pull over onto the shoulder and park, he grabbed Faye by the back of the head and slammed her face into the dashboard. The car was old enough it didn't have a passenger airbag; it didn't even have a driver airbag. He continued to pound her face into the dashboard, her fingernails scrapping into his hand only made him angrier—and stronger. He continued to pound and pound and pound.
Stopping the car, he used his left hand to put it in park. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to her, crossing the console between them. With both hands now, he pounded her face. The glove compartment fell open and dropped the registration onto her feet. But that didn't stop Jason Richard Wright, he kept pounding away. He even got a good hit with the bridge of her nose across the door of the glove compartment, this broke her nose. Finally, he stopped. Sitting back and removing his hands from her bloodstained, golden locks he set back in his own chair. Faye slid over and propped against the door.
Stepping out of the car, he sprinted around the front of the car. As he did, he undid his belt, and pants. Opening the passenger door, she fell just before the ground--hanging, tangled in her seat belt. He leaned her back, undid the seat belt and pulled her out. Dragging her into the open field that overlooked the Babylon Industrial Park in the distance, he rolled her over. It was starting to rain now, which was fine by Jason Richard Wright, because it would wash away a lot of the blood, semen and prints.
And he left Faye there in the field. Open and bare to the sky.
Upon hearing the news, Faye's parents gave up the bottle—cold turkey.
Mercedes had made these visits more common after his heart attack; it made him feel like he was the father no one wanted but one person felt obligated to visit him in his infirmities. But he didn't mind, she was good company. It was all just a little depressing. Deep down Spencer knew his life was quickly fleeting.
Sitting on his sofa, Mercedes handed him his coffee mug; and she smirked, "So you know this one was going to come up," after adjusting herself in the cushion, she looked to him, "Jason Richard Wright."
"Yeah," Spencer spoke, sipping his coffee, "He was bound to come up sooner or later."
"I'm curious," she started her inquiry, "How did you maintain your sanity? Well, that is, how did you not give up? That was a jacked up case."
Without hesitation, Spencer spoke two words, "Faye Brown."
"The runaway?"
"Yeah," his eyes were now going back somewhere, "Faye Brown. Only fifteen years old... whenever I got discouraged, I thought of her."
Faye Brown was petite, in all aspects of the word. She was skinny, weighing in at only 82 pounds. She was short, standing a not-so commanding four feet and seven inches. Her golden locks, wavy and long, made her easy prey for her teenage peers. She was cute, smart but troubled. Her parents were avid alcoholics. One night she decided she was tired of it and made a decision that was unlike most she made—an ignorant one. Faye decided to run away from home and join the teenage wasteland.
She hadn't made it very far when she stopped at a truck port just outside of Babylon. She was entering the big city for the first time, hailing from Riverside. Exiting the truck cab, she went inside to buy some snacks and pop. Then, she was going to try and find a new ride. Her company from Riverside was calling it a night, for a few hours. Faye, on the other hand, desired to put as much distance between her and the whiskey back in Riverside.
It was late at night and she mostly got turned down. Most men looked her over, but decided they would be getting in trouble if they picked up this girl. So, they would opt out and make up some lame excuse. But there was one gentleman who had been watching her for about ten minutes before she made her way to him, and he was beyond willing to give her a ride.
"Excuse me, Sir?" she asked innocently, "I wonder if you could give me a ride? I'm heading east—is that the direction your heading?"
"Sure."
"Could I get a ride, please?"
"Not a problem."
Inside Jason Richard Wright's 1993, red Ford Escort they spoke of many things. The actuality of it all was that Jason Richard Wright wasn't heading anywhere; he was there for a girl. And once he had his, he was ready. Though, he would have driven to Detroit if he had to.
"I was never good at math in high school."
"Oh, it's not that bad," Faye assured, "You just have to think within the box they give you. There's no thinking outside the box with math... or science for that matter."
"Yeah, I guess," Jason Richard Wright mostly asked questions. He didn't provide much in the way of actual conversation, he was too busy trying to get in as many glances to her body as he could. He would later admit that young and small was his preferred type. There was just something about it. Perhaps it was the control he had, since he wasn't a large man by any means. Someone smaller would be easier to handle. Though he had to admit, the small ones always had the softer skin, "What's the worst thing you've ever done?"
"The worst?" she asked, a little frightened.
Jason Richard Wright was just toying now, trying to get as much dirt as he could. The longer the conversation went, the hotter it got for him in his Escort, "Yeah... what's the worst thing?"
"I don't know..." she was becoming hesitant.
He felt like he was going to lose her at this point, "Well, like... did you ever do drugs?"
"No," she laughed, "That's stupid."
"What about... drink?"
She snarled, "No."
"Skinny dipping with the friends?"
Giggling, "No, thank goodness."
"What about sex?"
They set in silence. The radio managed to get through one song and a half. Across the sky, one could see the night was threatening to give way to the sun. Jason Richard Wright was so upset with himself. He was feeling like he'd reeled the fish in, and then threw the pole into the water. But finally, Faye spoke softly,
"There was this one time...
"Tommy Kilger, he's our quarterback. He took me out for Homecoming, which was like the coolest thing that had ever happened in my life. I was a freshman and he was a senior, and he took me to Homecoming. Well, it was fun for a while, but then he just couldn't stop... touching. I asked him to stop, but he kept on. He might stop for like one song, but then he'd start as soon as they'd play a stupid rap song or something and then he'd be grabbing and groping at me. And grinding... I hated it. Eventually, I told Tommy I wanted to leave. So, he argued, but then gave in. On the way home, he pulled over... it hurt. I've never bled so much in my life.
"At home, I just went to bed. The next morning I burned my dress... I don't know why I'm telling you this; I don't even know you and I've never told this to anyone. Needless to say, that was the last time I went out with Tommy Kilger."
Jason Richard Wright sat quietly for a moment, pondering what had just been said to him. As he slowly moved into the far right lane, he spoke again, "So he raped you?"
"Yeah," Faye spoke, folding her arms for warmth. It wasn't cold in the car, but it was a cold world that night.
"Why did you bleed?"
She rolled her eyes and sighed, "Because I was a virgin, and I wasn't ready."
"So it hurt?"
"Yeah."
Jason Richard Wright was getting confused and frustrated with the conversation, "But it felt good eventually, right?"
"No, it just hurt."
"At first," he demanded, "But eventually you liked it?"
"No!" she yelled, "When someone rapes you, it doesn't feel good. It never feels good."
He was fuming now, void of understanding, "But its sex, eventually it's going to feel good!"
"You know what? Pull over," Faye demanded, "I'm done with this conversation, you're stupid. I'll get a ride from someone else."
Jason Richard Wright didn't even hesitate; he pulled off on the next exit. They had managed to drive just outside of Babylon on the northeast side. Before he could pull over onto the shoulder and park, he grabbed Faye by the back of the head and slammed her face into the dashboard. The car was old enough it didn't have a passenger airbag; it didn't even have a driver airbag. He continued to pound her face into the dashboard, her fingernails scrapping into his hand only made him angrier—and stronger. He continued to pound and pound and pound.
Stopping the car, he used his left hand to put it in park. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to her, crossing the console between them. With both hands now, he pounded her face. The glove compartment fell open and dropped the registration onto her feet. But that didn't stop Jason Richard Wright, he kept pounding away. He even got a good hit with the bridge of her nose across the door of the glove compartment, this broke her nose. Finally, he stopped. Sitting back and removing his hands from her bloodstained, golden locks he set back in his own chair. Faye slid over and propped against the door.
Stepping out of the car, he sprinted around the front of the car. As he did, he undid his belt, and pants. Opening the passenger door, she fell just before the ground--hanging, tangled in her seat belt. He leaned her back, undid the seat belt and pulled her out. Dragging her into the open field that overlooked the Babylon Industrial Park in the distance, he rolled her over. It was starting to rain now, which was fine by Jason Richard Wright, because it would wash away a lot of the blood, semen and prints.
And he left Faye there in the field. Open and bare to the sky.
Upon hearing the news, Faye's parents gave up the bottle—cold turkey.
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