Silence blankets us both, neither of us knowing what to say if the matter should happen.
“I’m trying to avoid that from happening.” He speaks softly, looking down at his hands as he rubs them together again. But even I know that if we both wind up at the same place demanding a product from a buyer, or a job needs to be seen through and we cross paths… we will be enemies. This easy chat on the stairs in the middle of the night long forgotten. An inscrutable expression slides across my face when I think about losing Kieran, we’re close.
I stand, sighing loudly, and flicking the cigarette I barely smoked to the sidewalk.
“Death is certain. Life is not,” I mumble.
“Amen,” Kieran agrees, standing beside me.
We look at one another, unspoken terms being passed through our pupils saying, “Please stay out of my way.”
Grabbing my palm, he pulls me in for a hug, patting me on the back.
“You can do this, Romeo,” he whispers into my ear. Closing my eyes, I take his words to heart and try and ignore the fact that someone is so close to me, even touching me. He knows me better than anyone, and if he says I can do this… then I can.
Letting me go, I head down the stairs and decide to walk home instead of taking another cab. Slipping my hands into my pockets, I look up hoping to see stars but New York is just too busy to let the magic in the sky shine through.
4
The Girl
Sitting on my cot that sags mere inches away from the floor, I reach for my water bottle on the wooden crate I’ve been using as a nightstand, shaking it for any signs of water, but it’s bone dry. Sighing, I toss it to the floor. It’s been almost a whole day since they’ve given us water. My fingernails scraping into my hairline, I try and run them through my clumpy dirty hair, but they don’t make it more than a few inches before getting tangled. I’m hot, hungry, and anxious. I’m ready to be out of this… this cage. The smell of body odor and wet concrete is almost gone today, that or I’ve become used to it. Glancing up, I see a dozen women of all shapes, sizes, and colors walking around. Some trading water for a blanket, one asking for a smoke and is granted one at the price of her pillow. I keep to myself and watch.
All of us caged like rabid animals and used for different jobs. Running drugs, sex, companionship, God knows what else. I’ve yet to meet the person that wants me for good. God, I feel like a child waiting to be adopted, only thing is my caretaker may adore me, or treat me like the bad secret I am.
A metal bat slams against the silver chain-link fence that keeps us in, and I jolt upward with fear.
“Boss wants you to wear this tomorrow.” He tosses something blue over the top of the fence and I catch it, the fabric soft and clean. I frown, confused why I’m getting special treatment. I haven’t done anything.
“But why?” I ask with a hoarse voice, my tongue dryer than I thought. He ignores me and goes to another girl tossing another piece of clothing over the top but hers is gold.
Knowing I’m not going to get any answers, I look down at what I was gifted and unfold it. It’s a dress, it looks like Cinderella’s blue ball gown the night she met her Prince Charming, only this particular dress is lacking in luster. The seams are sewed poorly, the material so thin and blocky that it had to be a Halloween Costume, a cheap one. Why does he want us to wear this? He, is me assuming the boss is a he. I’ve never met the boss. I’ve just been traded and rented for the last ten years.
I was chosen to run drugs once when I was fifteen, I had to swallow two balloons full and fly to Missouri, and transported back. I was given a cot when I arrived back for my good behavior. I thought about running, but I was terrified. I was just happy to be out of the dark in the sunlight. Wearing half clean clothes, and around other people. I guess I’m conditioned to focus on what I’m being rewarded rather than running. However, a year later I was sex trafficked, but it didn’t go well, so it didn’t last long. I kept puking on the clients every time they tried to have sex with me. So, I was taken back, resold like a stereo that was out of date and nobody wanted, but still, I see robust rich men, receding hairlines, and the smell of cologne when I come close to men. I’m broken. Traumatized by the nearness of any man. So that begs the question, what are they doing with me tomorrow? Anxiety eclipses my thoughts, and I have to surprise a shiver. If it’s one thing I’ve learned it’s how to seem cool and collected on the outside. The wolves feed on fear.
“Who you got?”
I carefully glance up, finding a woman staring at me with a blue and yellow dress in her hand, Snow White, I believe. Her dark skin is dry, her hair that was once braided knotted and looking like it’s about to fall off her scalp stares down at me with dilated eyes. I look to the guards, one of them must have given her something, probably in return for sex. I become icy with panic nervous they will think I’m into that if this woman associates with me.
“Um, Cinderella, I think,” I mutter, my fingers sliding against the material. Terror thundering inside my chest. Why is she here? What does she want?
“No shit, my mother used to read that one to me
