Just delivering some drugs to some neighbors, nothing to see here piggy piggy.
The truth is that I want them to catch me, almost. What would it be like to rat out my father as being the community drug kingpin? The number of weird looking people that enter my home on the daily should be enough for the police to raid my home. How my dad hasn’t been arrested by now is beyond me. I suppose it wouldn’t be out of the question that some of the cops that patrol this area could be on my dad’s payroll.
How much would it take to bribe a cop to look the other way?
I cross the street but the sidewalk on the other side of the road is so broken and damaged that it’s easier to walk on the street. A car honks at me as it passes. I flip it off and keep walking. My friend, Candice, I mean Autumn Darling, may have seen that as a business opportunity. I want nothing to do with the scum bag boys driving the vehicle.
I haven’t ever dated a guy, as sad as that may sound. It’s not so much the thought of taking them to visit my family that worries me, it’s just, well - boys are a distraction. I have a goal, to get as far away from here as possible. At my scummy school, I’m sure I could manage to find a nice guy, but then what? We date and break up? Then with a broken heart, I fail an important test, and there go my dreams, all because of some man, who in the future will mean nothing to me.
I could sweettalk a guy, a prince charming, who could save me from this ghetto. I could put on my best attempt at being Autumn Darling myself and leave tonight even.
That’s not me though.
I am going to leave this place and be successful. It won’t be because of what’s between my thighs or being like my father. It will because I’ve earned it.
Candice is right about one thing for sure. Once I leave this hell, it will be as if it never existed to me. One long nightmare.
After another few blocks, I get closer to Townley’s home. It looks ever more decrepit than the rest of the ugly homes on the block. The home just screams that a crack head resides in it. The grass looks like it hasn’t been cut in a few months. It doesn’t stop children playing on it though.
Several children are playing in the front yard, riding their bicycles in circles. When I get closer, a little boy raises his head and looks at me. He notices the brown paper bag in my hand and continues playing.
I look at the children, and the front door of Mike Townley’s home behind them. I can hear the social worker speaking to me as if he’s on Mikes driveway with me. My family is responsible for a lot of trauma around here. My father’s products provide nothing but nightmares, after a brief moment of escapism.
How much better am I than my parents? Just because I’ve been the delivery girl for a few years, doesn’t make my contribution less than my father’s.
When I was thirteen, my dad would make it a game. Go hand out all the packages or bags around the neighborhood, and I get a prize at the end. It felt like my father was Santa Claus for the ghetto, bringing happiness to all the beat-up looking adults, and I was his little helper. It didn’t take me too long to figure out what was in the bags and packages. The first time my dad hit me was when I confronted him about it. I knew better than to do that again.
I look at the children one last time before continuing down the street. I jam the drugs down a large sewer hole a few blocks away. I take out the cash my dad gave me and start counting. He probably was too high to realize that he gave me over four hundred dollars.
I take my cell out of my pocket and call Candice. “Hey, steak diner on me. You in?”
She replies with an immediate yes. There’s a restaurant downtown known for their amazing porterhouse steaks. Candice and I eat like we never had food before. During dinner I tell her what happened during my recent delivery. I laugh but Candice doesn’t think it’s so funny.
“What the fuck Elle?” She says, with a serious face for once. “Your dad’s going to beat you.”
I wave my head no while taking a large bite of delicious steak. Some of the juices run down my face and I wipe them quickly with a linen napkin. “I’m not staying another night there. I’ve got enough money left over for a night or two at a motel. I’ll figure something out after.”
“Stay at my house. My parents won’t care.”
I wave my head again. Candice’s house is probably even worse than mine. So much so that I’ve tried to drag her to the same shelter I went to today more than once in the past.
“I’m going to go home, grab a few things, and go find a cheap motel.”
Candice’s face sours. “I’m serious. Your dad has probably killed people for less.”
I continue to eat my steak without a care in the world. I know my dream of finishing high school and sucking it up in this hell is over. I might as well eat my fucking steak with peace of mind.
Candice reaches into her purse and puts some crumpled bills on the table. I look at her coldly.
“This isn’t charity.” She says. “I’m paying for my steak and giving you a loan, interest free.”
Candice offers to go to my home with
