When she first saw him, Becky was heading into the 7-11 on Harper Avenue to buy a Slurpee, Twizzlers, and a pack of Camels. He was smoking. Vapor drifted from his lips as he leaned into the brick wall. His shoulders were relaxed, his head arched back. He wore a t-shirt with the Guns N\u2019 Roses bullet ironed on the front, a pair of snug jeans, and black untied sneakers.<\/p>\n
When Becky came out of the store – a plastic bag dangling from her wrist and a Slurpee in hand – he was in the same position; a crumpled cigarette lay on the ground beside him.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d he said. He was a young, unwashed Bradley Cooper with narrow cheekbones, a pointy chin, and a scruffy beard that appeared red in the sunlight. He had piercing blue eyes that sank in his skin and he was older, maybe twenty-four. Becky typically went for college boys, but this wasn\u2019t a college boy. This was a man.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou come around here often?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s it to you?\u201d Becky sucked on the thick red straw.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m wondering why I haven\u2019t noticed your beautiful face before.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess you weren\u2019t paying attention.\u201d Becky stepped closer to her car and away from this man, as she tucked the plastic bag into her fake leather purse.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I\u2019m paying attention now, aren\u2019t I?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
She shrugged, a smile forming. He intimidated her and Becky rarely felt intimidated.<\/p>\n
\u201cJay,\u201d he said, as he extended his right hand. She hesitated, her fingers wrapped around the handle of her purse. She let go and took his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecky,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cFitting name.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou live around here?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m ten minutes that way,\u201d he pointed. \u201cHow old are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
It felt abrupt, asking that, but Becky answered anyway, \u201cSeventeen.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, you\u2019re very beautiful.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou keep saying that,\u201d she said. She\u2019d heard those words before, but why did it sound so good coming out of his mouth? It must\u2019ve been the way he smiled. As his lips curved, lines formed along his cheeks, and one small dimple creased in his left side.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust reiterating.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have to go,\u201d Becky said. She dug into the back pocket of her jeans to retrieve her keys.<\/p>\n
\u201cWill I see you again?\u201d he asked, as he pulled out a phone from his pocket.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust maybe?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d Becky said.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I at least get your number?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf we meet again,\u201d she said, figuring they wouldn\u2019t. But what if they did?<\/p>\n
\u201cDeal.\u201d He smiled. \u201cIt was very nice to meet you, Becky.\u201d<\/p>\n
Becky nodded, walking away. The chiming of her keys echoed in the warm summer air.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Three months passed before she saw him again. Becky and her friend, Julie, stopped at the 7-11 to pick up cigarettes and snacks. Becky instantly recognized the rugged-faced man that stood at the counter. Jay was buying a pack of Camels. He tucked his wallet back into his pants pocket, as Becky walked quickly past him.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecky,\u201d he said, following behind.<\/p>\n
She stopped and turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cLooks like we\u2019re meeting again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJay,\u201d she nodded. He looked good, better than she remembered. His brown hair had been clearly washed and combed; a wave formed at the left side of his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think we should go out,\u201d he said matter-of-factly.<\/p>\n
Becky looked down at the cigarettes in his hand, wondering if he knew those were her favorite. \u201cYeah? Why\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause fate\u2019s brought us together again.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded, as she propped her hands on her narrow hips. Her body swayed ever-so-slightly.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you been drinking?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, of course not,\u201d she lied.<\/p>\n
Julie appeared beside them, hugging a liter of Coke, a bag of red plastic cups, and a large bag of Better Made potato chips.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecky, who\u2019s this?\u201d She asked. Becky wanted to lie and say that she didn\u2019t know him, because she didn\u2019t, not really.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is Jay,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Julie smiled, looking back and forth from Becky to Jay, and introduced herself.<\/p>\n
They shook hands, as Becky slid her hands into her back pockets and looked towards candy section.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know each other?\u201d Julie asked, as she bumped Becky\u2019s arm with her shoulder.<\/p>\n
Becky looked at Jay who was smiling. He scratched his beard with two fingers and laughed, as though their first meeting were a secret that only they shared, but it sort of was; Becky hadn\u2019t mentioned him to anyone, least of all Julie. She didn\u2019t think she\u2019d needed to, or maybe she liked the idea of keeping the encounter solely to herself.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Julie said, breaking the silence. She turned away from Becky and fixed her eyes on Jay. \u201cWell, we\u2019re going to a party. You coming, Jay?\u201d<\/p>\n
What was she doing, Becky wondered.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d he said. \u201cWhat do you think?\u201d he said to Becky.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s then that she noticed a small white scar on his caterpillar eyebrows. It stretched two inches further than the brown hairs. She wondered how he got it.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can come,\u201d Becky agreed.<\/p>\n
They went to a house in Roseville where Becky and Jay spent the next five hours drinking whiskey, smoking weed, and sitting on the brick patio overlooking a rundown backyard.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me your story,\u201d Becky said, as she leaned down to pull chunks of grass out of the dirt.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy story?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Jay took a sip of his drink and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his legs.<\/p>\n
\u201cToo tragic, huh?\u201d she said, as she dropped the bundle of fresh grass and sat upright.<\/p>\n
His story poured out like syrup. He had dropped out of community college to take a job as a mechanic. He said he was raised in Detroit and his youngest brother died in a drive-by shooting. He said his parents were now divorced and living in separate cities, and he had season tickets to the Lions games and spent the majority of his free time visiting friends downtown.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy don\u2019t you live in the city then?\u201d Becky asked. \u201cApartments are pretty cheap, aren\u2019t they?\u201d She didn\u2019t know; Becky only went to Detroit to buy booze. She bummed drugs off of friends, always too nervous to buy them herself.<\/p>\n
\u201cI like to get away, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, I know.\u201d Becky sipped on her warm whiskey-coke.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you?\u201d he said, surprised.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy parents have a disastrous marriage. It wasn\u2019t so bad with my sister around, but she moved to Kansas City with her boyfriend. He\u2019s a fucking idiot, but she moved there after high school and now they have a three year old son.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re an aunt, huh?\u201d Jay placed his empty hand on the brick just a few inches from Becky\u2019s thigh.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve never even met him,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
He nodded apathetically. \u201cShit happens.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, well,\u201d she said, looking up at the vacant sky. \u201cIt\u2019s all bullshit.\u201d There wasn\u2019t a star in sight.<\/p>\n
\u201cAt least your parents don\u2019t mind that you\u2019re out, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey couldn\u2019t care less,\u201d she said, as she sipped on her drink.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I\u2019m glad you\u2019re here.\u201d he said. He leaned in towards her.<\/p>\n
Guys were peeing in the bushes ahead of them and strangers were smoking to their right, but Becky could only focus on Jay and his lips. She didn\u2019t even mind that his beard scratched her chin or that his forehead was sweaty.<\/p>\n
An hour later, after Julie left, Becky went back to Jay\u2019s apartment which strongly resembled a college guy\u2019s dorm room. There was junk piled up in corners, walls lacking decor, a massive flat screen TV, and a kitchen filled with dirty dishes. Aside from two small containers of peanuts and a heavy supply of liquor on the counter, there was nothing else in the kitchen area. It seemed as though he were squatting and not living there.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you cook?\u201d Becky asked, as she slid her hand across the smooth kitchen countertop. Jay laughed, as he poured them both a drink.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo grilled cheese sandwiches count?\u201d<\/p>\n
Becky laughed. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen no; not really.\u201d<\/p>\n
He handed her a heavy dose of bourbon in a plastic green tumbler.<\/p>\n
\u201cCheers,\u201d he said. They bumped glasses. Then Jay led Becky over to the black leather couch. It was either used or really old, or both. It was covered in grey scuffs with two small slashes and imprints of various body shapes were embedded in the fabric.<\/p>\n
It suddenly occurred to Becky that Jay lived alone. He didn\u2019t have roommates or parents. Nobody would come out of their rooms or through the front door and nobody would hear if they had sex or if she screamed.<\/p>\n
Becky cradled the cold glass in her hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo this whole Ferguson thing,\u201d she said casually, as though she were mentioning simple weather changes. It was the only headline she could recall reading in the news that week.<\/p>\n
\u201cFucking cops,\u201d he said. He shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, the whole thing\u2019s strange,\u201d Becky agreed, though she wasn\u2019t quite sure what to believe. She only knew the basics of the murder, but hadn\u2019t read the details.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, it\u2019s a fucking mess. Cops are assholes,\u201d he said more adamantly.<\/p>\n
His assertion was sinister, yet sexy.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy are we talking about this?\u201d he asked, as he placed his hand on Becky\u2019s thigh.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d she said. His hand was warmed her bare skin. \u201cWhat do you want to talk about?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing.\u201d He said. She turned to him and next thing she knew, her glass was on the table and they were kissing. It all happened rather quickly. His legs were pressed against hers and then his fingers traced the bones in her spine, as he moved up Becky\u2019s back towards her bra strap. Then Jay aimed for her sensitive spot; the neck. His calloused fingers slid up through her hair and fixed on the lower part of her head, pulling her closer to him. His movements were strategic and tantalizing. It was obvious Jay knew what to do with a woman; he knew how to make her feel sexy, and most importantly, desirable. Becky\u2019s arousal continued to build, leaving Jay in full control of her body.<\/p>\n
It escalated and before she knew it, Becky was naked on the floor, propped on her hands and knees, as Jay pushed from behind. While he was thrusting, his hands crept up and down her body and then planted firmly on her hips. He held her tightly, his fingers laced around her bones, and when he came, he removed one hand to tug her long brown hair.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Within a few weeks, Becky was spending three to four nights per week at Jay\u2019s place. She told her parents she was staying at Julie\u2019s apartment and they had no reason not to believe her. She had never been particularly close to her parents; her father was easily angered, her mother overly emotional, and they both took quite strongly to alcohol. Becky, herself, had started drinking when she was fifteen. That same year, she met Julie and they clicked instantly. Now that she was spending more and more time with Jay, she saw less and less of Julie.<\/p>\n
She quickly grew accustomed to Jay\u2019s weird work hours, his insomnia, his greasy grilled cheese sandwiches, and his lack of simple household items like conditioner and dish soap. He knew exactly how to treat a lady, a feeling Becky had never know. He paid attention to her, always asking follow-up questions, and he\u2019d kiss her forehead, just because. He\u2019d rub her back when it was sore and he\u2019d walk down to the corner store to buy her coffee, breakfast, or a pack of cigarettes.<\/p>\n
While they were sitting, half-naked, on the couch one morning, Becky asked if she could buy a coffee maker for his apartment.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019d be cheaper than buying it all the time,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnything you want, baby.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnything, huh?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u201cSo long as I\u2019m not buying it,\u201d he said, his attention focused on the TV.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere is another thing I want and it doesn\u2019t cost anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Becky pulled at a strand of her hair, twisting it around her forefinger.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, we\u2019ve been dating for a while now.\u201d Three months seemed like a while. It was certainly the longest relationship Becky had ever had.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s true.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow about making it official?\u201d She felt like a middle school girl asking some boy to dance with her. It was silly, she decided. Surely Jay would think it was silly. Becky shouldn\u2019t have said anything.<\/p>\n
Jay leaned forward, focusing on the Tigers game, and said, \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know you\u2019re my girl.\u201d<\/p>\n
Becky blushed. Jay would be her first official boyfriend. She had had hookups, and dates before, but not boyfriends. Relationships never seemed to work for her. Either the guy was unwilling to commit or she wasn\u2019t into it, but this felt different. Jay was different.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Becky was in her room, when she heard a commotion. Her parents had been arguing for a while, but that wasn\u2019t unusual. She lowered the music. Weirdly enough, it was quiet, and that scared Becky more than the fighting. She turned off the music completely and listened. Nothing.<\/p>\n
Becky went to the kitchen and found her mother sitting at the table with her head in her hands, her body shaking. Becky glanced around. A glass bottle had shattered; pieces were scattered across the counter and the floor. There was a small trail of blood on the wood, presumably her mother\u2019s.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom,\u201d she said. \u201cHoly fuck. Mom, what the hell happened.\u201d Now Becky was shaking.<\/p>\n
Her mother looked up. Blood poured from her cheek.<\/p>\n
\u201cHoly shit. Mom, oh my god.\u201d<\/p>\n
Becky went straight for the towel hanging off the oven handle, careful to avoid the glass. She pressed the striped towel to her mother\u2019s face, then took off her sweater and wrapped it around her mother\u2019s arm. The blood slowly soaked the fabric and dribbled down Becky\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need to take you to the ER. What the fuck happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was my fault,\u201d her mother said. She wouldn\u2019t look at Becky.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not your fault, Mom. This is a fucking mess. I\u2019m calling 9-11.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, Becky, I\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHold this,\u201d Becky demanded. Her mother took the towel with her right hand and held it against her cheek.<\/p>\n
Becky ran to get her cell phone and called the cops. They arrived eight minutes later and took Becky\u2019s mother away on a stretcher. She was stitched up and tested for internal head injuries.<\/p>\n
Two hours later, Becky was sitting in the chair beside her mother\u2019s hospital bed.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, you have to tell me what happened. Where\u2019s Dad?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe left.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean, he left?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s gone, Becky,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, seriously, tell me what happened.\u201d Becky needed to understand. Her father had never hurt her mother before, at least not physically. Verbally, yes, but never physically.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe threw a bottle of wine,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cAt you?\u201d Anger trickled through Becky\u2019s body.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, at the wall. It shattered.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGod damnit, mom.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe left me, Beck,\u201d she said. \u201cIsn\u2019t that enough?\u201d Her mothers\u2019 eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n
Becky\u2019s parents had met in high school and married when they were both twenty years old. Five months later, they had Becky\u2019s older sister, and two years later, they had Becky. For as long as she could remember, Becky\u2019s parents had fought over money, schedules, jobs, parenting. Their relationship was toxic.<\/p>\n
Sitting in that sterile room, staring at her mother\u2019s bandaged face, Becky couldn\u2019t help feeling sorry for her. She reached around the IV and linked her fingers around her mother\u2019s wrinkly hand, wondering when she had last touched her mother; not since she was young and had to hold her mother\u2019s hand when crossing the street.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A few weeks after the incident, Becky returned home from Jay\u2019s, and found her mother sitting in the corner of the living room with her back to the wall and her knees pressed to her chest. A pile of papers sat beside her.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, what are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe wants a divorce.\u201d<\/p>\n
Becky expected this, but instead of feeling relief, she felt a strange pang of heartache. She joined her mother on the floor in an attempt to comfort her. When Becky\u2019s mother lifted her head, she said, flatly, \u201cI don\u2019t have enough money.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019ll be fine,\u201d Becky promised. It\u2019s exactly what her parents had always told her; not that she ever believed them.<\/p>\n
Her mother stood, leaving the papers behind, and said, \u201cYou need to get a job, Becky. I don\u2019t care what it is, but you need to do something.\u201d Her mother leaned against the couch, closed her eyes, and dropped her head in shame. \u201cI can\u2019t pay for your shit anymore,\u201d she said. Then she opened her eyes, dropped her arms, and drifted down the hallway.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cI have a friend who could help,\u201d Jay offered.<\/p>\n
\u201cReally? What does he do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s got a good business, and you\u2019d do well.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat would I do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a dating service,\u201d he said matter-of-factly.<\/p>\n
\u201cA dating service? What the fuck does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll you have to do is escort rich men to events. It\u2019s easy and it pays. You\u2019ll make over $400 a night; easy\u201d<\/p>\n
Becky felt uneasy. \u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it safe?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course it\u2019s safe. Forget I mentioned it. If you don\u2019t want my suggestions, don\u2019t ask,\u201d he replied bitterly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Becky said. She let go of the spoon in her hand and touched Jay\u2019s arm. They were both sitting in front of the TV, holding a bowl of cereal.<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks, I\u2019ll think about it, okay?\u201d Becky said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou said you needed the money.\u201d<\/p>\n
She returned to her fruit loops and waited until the next commercial to ask, \u201cWouldn\u2019t it bother you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe escort thing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy would it bother me?\u201d he asked, serious.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause, I\u2019d be going out with other men. Isn\u2019t that kind of weird?\u201d It was, Becky decided.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019d be good at, and you need the money, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, I guess.\u201d Becky took another bite of her cereal, thinking maybe he was right; she needed money.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Two weeks later, Becky found herself in the backseat of a Honda with a strange man. His name was Robert, he was a businessman, and he needed a date for a client meeting. He had requested a tall brunette with long legs and a decent ass. The night before, Jay took Becky to JC Penny\u2019s to pick out a new dress, ultimately deciding on a short cobalt blue dress that formed a V in the back, forcing her to go braless. She felt naked and exposed in the thin fabric, but Jay had recommended it for those very reasons.<\/p>\n
Robert\u2019s personal driver had picked Becky up from Jay\u2019s and now they were headed to his client meeting.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow old are you?\u201d Robert asked, as he brushed his hand through his sleek black hair.<\/p>\n
\u201cSeventeen,\u201d Becky said.<\/p>\n
\u201cTwenty.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m seventeen,\u201d she repeated.<\/p>\n
\u201cWith me, you\u2019re twenty,\u201d Robert said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t look twenty,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
He ignored her. \u201cKnow anything about stocks?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGreat. Just smile and look pretty. If anybody asks, tell them you\u2019re a hairdresser. You can do that, right Becky?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure.\u201d She turned towards the window and watched as cars swished past.<\/p>\n
It was a long night, over three hours. They sat in a private back room of a crowded restaurant, and shared a four course meal. Becky remained quiet as she ate. When somebody asked how much money she made hairdressing, she said, \u201cfifteen an hour.\u201d They nodded in approval and asked what she thought of Obama. Becky had said, \u201cHe\u2019s great\u201d and the men all laughed, before returning to work. Becky had never felt as young and inferior as she did that night, as though she were just a fixture on the wall and nothing more.<\/p>\n
Towards the end of the dinner, right before dessert, Robert leaned over and said, \u201cWhy you don\u2019t you give us a few minutes. Go fix yourself or something and come back in fifteen minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Becky smiled politely and excused herself from the table. She was glad to leave that room, but as she stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror, she felt nauseous. She had worn too much makeup, but Jay had encouraged it, and she was showing too much side-boob.<\/p>\n
It disturbed her, being in a strange restaurant with a strange man, not having any say in where she went or what she did. But she obeyed, because Jay promised it was safe, and he was right, she needed the money. Did it matter where the money came from? Becky wondered, knowing the answer.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
After dinner, Robert showed Becky back to the car. When they were both settled into the back seat, he pulled out a cigarette and lighter.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I have one?\u201d Becky asked.<\/p>\n
He lit it, handed it over, and then reached for another. They rolled down their windows and breathed in the tobacco. Becky felt a sudden high. Smoking was a comfort, an addiction, and she felt at ease despite the circumstances.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou did well,\u201d Robert said, as he brushed his cold hand across her bare knee. Becky sat upright, suddenly alert.<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks,\u201d she said as she lifted the cigarette to the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe we can do this again,\u201d he said, as he grew increasingly, uncomfortably close to Becky. She anticipated a kiss or a boob grab, as if she were on a bad date, so she scooted closer to the warm air. Instead, Robert reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and handed over a folded stack of clean bills. Becky took the wad, pressed it into her purse, and politely thanked him.<\/p>\n
That night, Jay insisted on counting the cash for her. He took it, walking towards his bedroom, and returned with a smile, revealing that dimple.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe must\u2019ve liked you, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n
Becky shrugged, \u201cI guess; I didn\u2019t do much.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn\u2019t have to.\u201d Jay approached Becky and latched onto her hips. \u201cCome here, sexy.\u201d He pulled her towards him, his breath on her cheek.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know if I\u2019ll do that again.\u201d She said, as Jay kissed her cheekbone, the back of her jaw, and then her earlobe. His muscular body was wrapped tightly around her thin frame.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was easy, wasn\u2019t it?\u201d he said with a growly voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, but I didn\u2019t like it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pulled back, his hands still on her waist. \u201cWhat\u2019s not to like?\u201d He looked down on her. \u201cYou keep this up, and you\u2019ll be making bank. It\u2019s good business, you\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCash is cash, Beck, and you need it, don\u2019t you,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
She remained quiet, as the words rushed over her like the steam in a hot shower.<\/p>\n
You need it, don\u2019t you. <\/em><\/p>\n Jay resumed the kissing, and Becky discarded the words, hoping they\u2019d disappear from her memory, but she already knew they\u2019d resurface like a dead fish.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n On her third date with Robert, she was taken to a dive bar in downtown Detroit. He held her hand, leading her through the dimly-lit room, until he found his people in the far corner. There were three guys; all dressed in suits, their coats open revealing button-up shirts and stray chest hairs. Each held a glass of brown liquor and Becky quickly learned that these guys were friends, not co-workers.<\/p>\n Sitting there, all done up, Becky felt like a cufflink, clinging to Robert\u2019s arm as though her sole purpose was to look expensive. Robert and his pals urged Becky to drink so she did and the longer they stayed, the drunker she got. They indulged her; offering shots and drinks over and over again.<\/p>\n Becky stumbled to the bathroom, feeling as though she were being pushed from both sides. She bent down to vomit in the toilet and only when she felt capable of standing did she return. It could have been minutes or hours, Becky wasn\u2019t sure, but the men didn\u2019t seem to notice her absence. Robert and a friend linked arms with Becky and led her back to the car. Everything was spinning; the cars in the parking lot, the stars in the sky. Their laughter echoed, burning her ears.<\/p>\n Once in the backseat, Becky became hypersensitive, feeling the bass of the music in her forehead. Halfway home, Robert put his hand on Becky\u2019s leg. He dragged it all the way up to her lacy underwear. Becky was too drunk to react, but she knew it was all wrong.<\/p>\n \u201cNot okay,\u201d she slurred.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s alright, baby, it won\u2019t hurt.\u201d<\/p>\n Suddenly his hand was pressed to her mouth, shutting her up, as he yanked her underwear down, and shoved his fingers inside. It hurt, that much she knew, but she couldn\u2019t stop him. She could hardly comprehend the events, her mind racing, and the world spinning. He continued, and then, just as quickly, he was inside her. Certain her screams, though muffled, were audible, Becky looked to the driver, his eyes fixated on the road. She struggled to push him away, but she was weak and he persisted, coming inside of her.<\/p>\n When the car finally stopped, Robert had buttoned up his pants and now he handed her a pile of cash. She took it, unable to comprehend what just happened. She looked again at the driver, but he was looking away as she stepped out of the car in her tiny dress.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n She stood outside Jay\u2019s door and cried.<\/p>\n \u201cBeck, what\u2019s the matter?\u201d he said, letting her inside.<\/p>\n \u201cHe,\u201d she started, but the words wouldn\u2019t come.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you hungry?\u201d Jay asked, changing subjects.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d she gasped.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t we go sit down.\u201d<\/p>\n Becky collapsed on the couch, the cold leather grazing her skin. Only then did she realize her underwear was left on the floor of the car. The tears fell faster.<\/p>\n \u201cStop crying, Beck, and tell me what\u2019s wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n After she finally said, \u201cHe raped me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, Becky,\u201d he said, as he held her and rubbed the back of her head. She cried into his shoulders, the scotch attempting to crawl back up her throat.<\/p>\n She felt dirty and nauseous, but eventually the tears stopped and she drifted to a light sleep.<\/p>\n She awoke on the couch, alone, in last night\u2019s dress, with a flannel blanket wrapped around her body. She stretched out her limbs, suddenly aware of her sore thighs. In an instant, Becky felt the weight of the previous night crushing her delicate body. She sat upright, her stomach lurching forward in an attempt to vomit, but nothing came out.<\/p>\n \u201cHey you,\u201d Jay said casually from the open kitchen. He was dressed in a pair of sweats holding two mugs.<\/p>\n \u201cI have coffee,\u201d he said with a smile, as though it were a typical morning.<\/p>\n He sat on the far end of the couch and handed over the blue and green striped mug. Becky took it, and then yanked at Jay\u2019s arm, begging him to be closer.<\/p>\n \u201cWe need to tell somebody,\u201d she said with a quiet concern.<\/p>\n \u201cWe can\u2019t, Beck,\u201d he said matter-of-factly.<\/p>\n \u201cHe can\u2019t do that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure he can. He paid you.\u201d Jay said then took a sip of coffee.<\/p>\n In sync with her pounding headache, Becky\u2019s heart raced. Did that make her a prostitute? No, she didn\u2019t sign up for that. She was an escort, nothing more.<\/p>\n Becky put the mug on the table and fell into Jay\u2019s chest. With his free hand, he rubbed her shoulder and then kissed the top of her greasy hair.<\/p>\n Jay turned on the TV and only after three episodes of Friends did Jay say, \u201cYou might not want to hear this, but you made a killing last night.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Becky lifted her head from his chest.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, eleven hundred.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSeriously?\u201d In an attempt to forget about the night, she\u2019d also forgotten about the money.<\/p>\n \u201cI know he shouldn\u2019t have done that,\u201d Jay said, \u201cbut it wasn\u2019t so bad, was it?\u201d<\/p>\n Becky pushed herself up so she was hovering over Jay. \u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m just saying; it\u2019s not that big of a deal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt is a big deal,\u201d she returned, the anger building.<\/p>\n \u201cListen, Beck, I really like you. Hell, I love you, but this is something you have to do. Don\u2019t worry about me, okay? I support you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you kidding? I don\u2019t want to do that ever again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBeck, you need the money, and honestly, I can\u2019t keep paying for your shit. It\u2019s a good thing you got this gig. You can start contributing and you can get different clients, if you want; that\u2019s not a big deal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you serious?\u201d Becky stood off the couch. Everything felt wrong.<\/p>\n \u201cBeck, don\u2019t get like that, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou just said you love me. Now you want me to prostitute myself?\u201d She couldn\u2019t believe she\u2019d even said it aloud.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not like that,\u201d he said, as he stood and grabbed her hand. \u201cYou have to support yourself and your mom. I\u2019ll be here, alright, no matter what. I\u2019m yours, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n Thousands of emotions rushed through Becky\u2019s body like the blue dye from an MRI. She felt warm and jittery.<\/p>\n \u201cBut it hurt,\u201d she admitted, as Jay let go of her sweaty hand.<\/p>\n \u201cIt won\u2019t, after a while.\u201d He wrapped his body around her, smothering her with the smell of cigarettes and coffee. \u201cJust make sure they wear condoms,\u201d he said. \u201cI don\u2019t want any guy knocking up my girl,\u201d he snickered.<\/p>\n Becky looked up at Jay. His round eyes were fixed on her. He was smiling lovingly, holding her tightly, and promising her welfare. Maybe he was right; maybe it was for the best. She did need the money and Becky trusted Jay. If he was okay with it, then why wasn\u2019t she?<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll still love me?\u201d she pleaded.<\/p>\n \u201cOf course,\u201d he promised. \u201cIt\u2019ll be worth it, you\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n Becky closed her eyes as Jay kissed her oily forehead.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n When she first saw him, Becky was heading into the 7-11 on Harper Avenue to buy a Slurpee, Twizzlers, and a pack of Camels. He was smoking. Vapor drifted from his lips as he leaned into the brick wall. His shoulders were relaxed, his head arched back. He wore a t-shirt with the Guns N\u2019 Roses bullet ironed on the front, a pair of snug jeans, and black untied sneakers.<\/p>\n When Becky came out of the store – a plastic bag dangling from her wrist and a Slurpee in hand – he was in the same position; a crumpled cigarette lay on the ground beside him.<\/p>\n \u201cHey,\u201d he said. He was a young, unwashed Bradley Cooper with narrow cheekbones, a pointy chin, and a scruffy beard that appeared red in the sunlight. He had piercing blue eyes that sank in his skin and he was older, maybe twenty-four. Becky typically went for college boys, but this wasn\u2019t a college boy. This was a man.<\/p>\n \u201cYou come around here often?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s it to you?\u201d Becky sucked on the thick red straw.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m wondering why I haven\u2019t noticed your beautiful face before.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI guess you weren\u2019t paying attention.\u201d Becky stepped closer to her car and away from this man, as she tucked the plastic bag into her fake leather purse.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019m paying attention now, aren\u2019t I?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n She shrugged, a smile forming. He intimidated her and Becky rarely felt intimidated.<\/p>\n \u201cJay,\u201d he said, as he extended his right hand. She hesitated, her fingers wrapped around the handle of her purse. She let go and took his hand.<\/p>\n \u201cBecky,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cFitting name.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cYou live around here?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m ten minutes that way,\u201d he pointed. \u201cHow old are you?\u201d<\/p>\n It felt abrupt, asking that, but Becky answered anyway, \u201cSeventeen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you\u2019re very beautiful.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou keep saying that,\u201d she said. She\u2019d heard those words before, but why did it sound so good coming out of his mouth? It must\u2019ve been the way he smiled. As his lips curved, lines formed along his cheeks, and one small dimple creased in his left side.<\/p>\n \u201cJust reiterating.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have to go,\u201d Becky said. She dug into the back pocket of her jeans to retrieve her keys.<\/p>\n \u201cWill I see you again?\u201d he asked, as he pulled out a phone from his pocket.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust maybe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Becky said.<\/p>\n \u201cCan I at least get your number?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf we meet again,\u201d she said, figuring they wouldn\u2019t. But what if they did?<\/p>\n \u201cDeal.\u201d He smiled. \u201cIt was very nice to meet you, Becky.\u201d<\/p>\n Becky nodded, walking away. The chiming of her keys echoed in the warm summer air.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Three months passed before she saw him again. Becky and her friend, Julie, stopped at the 7-11 to pick up cigarettes and snacks. Becky instantly recognized the rugged-faced man that stood at the counter. Jay was buying a pack of Camels. He tucked his wallet back into his pants pocket, as Becky walked quickly past him.<\/p>\n \u201cBecky,\u201d he said, following behind.<\/p>\n She stopped and turned.<\/p>\n \u201cLooks like we\u2019re meeting again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJay,\u201d she nodded. He looked good, better than she remembered. His brown hair had been clearly washed and combed; a wave formed at the left side of his head.<\/p>\n \u201cI think we should go out,\u201d he said matter-of-factly.<\/p>\n Becky looked down at the cigarettes in his hand, wondering if he knew those were her favorite. \u201cYeah? Why\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause fate\u2019s brought us together again.\u201d<\/p>\n She nodded, as she propped her hands on her narrow hips. Her body swayed ever-so-slightly.<\/p>\n \u201cHave you been drinking?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, of course not,\u201d she lied.<\/p>\n Julie appeared beside them, hugging a liter of Coke, a bag of red plastic cups, and a large bag of Better Made potato chips.<\/p>\n \u201cBecky, who\u2019s this?\u201d She asked. Becky wanted to lie and say that she didn\u2019t know him, because she didn\u2019t, not really.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is Jay,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n Julie smiled, looking back and forth from Becky to Jay, and introduced herself.<\/p>\n They shook hands, as Becky slid her hands into her back pockets and looked towards candy section.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you know each other?\u201d Julie asked, as she bumped Becky\u2019s arm with her shoulder.<\/p>\n Becky looked at Jay who was smiling. He scratched his beard with two fingers and laughed, as though their first meeting were a secret that only they shared, but it sort of was; Becky hadn\u2019t mentioned him to anyone, least of all Julie. She didn\u2019t think she\u2019d needed to, or maybe she liked the idea of keeping the encounter solely to herself.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay,\u201d Julie said, breaking the silence. She turned away from Becky and fixed her eyes on Jay. \u201cWell, we\u2019re going to a party. You coming, Jay?\u201d<\/p>\n What was she doing, Becky wondered.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay,\u201d he said. \u201cWhat do you think?\u201d he said to Becky.<\/p>\n It\u2019s then that she noticed a small white scar on his caterpillar eyebrows. It stretched two inches further than the brown hairs. She wondered how he got it.<\/p>\n \u201cYou can come,\u201d Becky agreed.<\/p>\n They went to a house in Roseville where Becky and Jay spent the next five hours drinking whiskey, smoking weed, and sitting on the brick patio overlooking a rundown backyard.<\/p>\n \u201cTell me your story,\u201d Becky said, as she leaned down to pull chunks of grass out of the dirt.<\/p>\n \u201cMy story?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCome on,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n Jay took a sip of his drink and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his legs.<\/p>\n \u201cToo tragic, huh?\u201d she said, as she dropped the bundle of fresh grass and sat upright.<\/p>\n His story poured out like syrup. He had dropped out of community college to take a job as a mechanic. He said he was raised in Detroit and his youngest brother died in a drive-by shooting. He said his parents were now divorced and living in separate cities, and he had season tickets to the Lions games and spent the majority of his free time visiting friends downtown.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you live in the city then?\u201d Becky asked. \u201cApartments are pretty cheap, aren\u2019t they?\u201d She didn\u2019t know; Becky only went to Detroit to buy booze. She bummed drugs off of friends, always too nervous to buy them herself.<\/p>\n \u201cI like to get away, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I know.\u201d Becky sipped on her warm whiskey-coke.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you?\u201d he said, surprised.<\/p>\n \u201cMy parents have a disastrous marriage. It wasn\u2019t so bad with my sister around, but she moved to Kansas City with her boyfriend. He\u2019s a fucking idiot, but she moved there after high school and now they have a three year old son.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re an aunt, huh?\u201d Jay placed his empty hand on the brick just a few inches from Becky\u2019s thigh.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve never even met him,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n He nodded apathetically. \u201cShit happens.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, well,\u201d she said, looking up at the vacant sky. \u201cIt\u2019s all bullshit.\u201d There wasn\u2019t a star in sight.<\/p>\n \u201cAt least your parents don\u2019t mind that you\u2019re out, right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey couldn\u2019t care less,\u201d she said, as she sipped on her drink.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019m glad you\u2019re here.\u201d he said. He leaned in towards her.<\/p>\n Guys were peeing in the bushes ahead of them and strangers were smoking to their right, but Becky could only focus on Jay and his lips. She didn\u2019t even mind that his beard scratched her chin or that his forehead was sweaty.<\/p>\n An hour later, after Julie left, Becky went back to Jay\u2019s apartment which strongly resembled a college guy\u2019s dorm room. There was junk piled up in corners, walls lacking decor, a massive flat screen TV, and a kitchen filled with dirty dishes. Aside from two small containers of peanuts and a heavy supply of liquor on the counter, there was nothing else in the kitchen area. It seemed as though he were squatting and not living there.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t you cook?\u201d Becky asked, as she slid her hand across the smooth kitchen countertop. Jay laughed, as he poured them both a drink.<\/p>\n \u201cDo grilled cheese sandwiches count?\u201d<\/p>\n Becky laughed. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen no; not really.\u201d<\/p>\n He handed her a heavy dose of bourbon in a plastic green tumbler.<\/p>\n \u201cCheers,\u201d he said. They bumped glasses. Then Jay led Becky over to the black leather couch. It was either used or really old, or both. It was covered in grey scuffs with two small slashes and imprints of various body shapes were embedded in the fabric.<\/p>\n It suddenly occurred to Becky that Jay lived alone. He didn\u2019t have roommates or parents. Nobody would come out of their rooms or through the front door and nobody would hear if they had sex or if she screamed.<\/p>\n Becky cradled the cold glass in her hands.<\/p>\n \u201cSo this whole Ferguson thing,\u201d she said casually, as though she were mentioning simple weather changes. It was the only headline she could recall reading in the news that week.<\/p>\n \u201cFucking cops,\u201d he said. He shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, the whole thing\u2019s strange,\u201d Becky agreed, though she wasn\u2019t quite sure what to believe. She only knew the basics of the murder, but hadn\u2019t read the details.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, it\u2019s a fucking mess. Cops are assholes,\u201d he said more adamantly.<\/p>\n His assertion was sinister, yet sexy.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy are we talking about this?\u201d he asked, as he placed his hand on Becky\u2019s thigh.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d she said. His hand was warmed her bare skin. \u201cWhat do you want to talk about?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing.\u201d He said. She turned to him and next thing she knew, her glass was on the table and they were kissing. It all happened rather quickly. His legs were pressed against hers and then his fingers traced the bones in her spine, as he moved up Becky\u2019s back towards her bra strap. Then Jay aimed for her sensitive spot; the neck. His calloused fingers slid up through her hair and fixed on the lower part of her head, pulling her closer to him. His movements were strategic and tantalizing. It was obvious Jay knew what to do with a woman; he knew how to make her feel sexy, and most importantly, desirable. Becky\u2019s arousal continued to build, leaving Jay in full control of her body.<\/p>\n It escalated and before she knew it, Becky was naked on the floor, propped on her hands and knees, as Jay pushed from behind. While he was thrusting, his hands crept up and down her body and then planted firmly on her hips. He held her tightly, his fingers laced around her bones, and when he came, he removed one hand to tug her long brown hair.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Within a few weeks, Becky was spending three to four nights per week at Jay\u2019s place. She told her parents she was staying at Julie\u2019s apartment and they had no reason not to believe her. She had never been particularly close to her parents; her father was easily angered, her mother overly emotional, and they both took quite strongly to alcohol. Becky, herself, had started drinking when she was fifteen. That same year, she met Julie and they clicked instantly. Now that she was spending more and more time with Jay, she saw less and less of Julie.<\/p>\n She quickly grew accustomed to Jay\u2019s weird work hours, his insomnia, his greasy grilled cheese sandwiches, and his lack of simple household items like conditioner and dish soap. He knew exactly how to treat a lady, a feeling Becky had never know. He paid attention to her, always asking follow-up questions, and he\u2019d kiss her forehead, just because. He\u2019d rub her back when it was sore and he\u2019d walk down to the corner store to buy her coffee, breakfast, or a pack of cigarettes.<\/p>\n While they were sitting, half-naked, on the couch one morning, Becky asked if she could buy a coffee maker for his apartment.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019d be cheaper than buying it all the time,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cAnything you want, baby.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnything, huh?\u2019<\/p>\n \u201cSo long as I\u2019m not buying it,\u201d he said, his attention focused on the TV.<\/p>\n \u201cThere is another thing I want and it doesn\u2019t cost anything.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n Becky pulled at a strand of her hair, twisting it around her forefinger.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, we\u2019ve been dating for a while now.\u201d Three months seemed like a while. It was certainly the longest relationship Becky had ever had.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s true.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow about making it official?\u201d She felt like a middle school girl asking some boy to dance with her. It was silly, she decided. Surely Jay would think it was silly. Becky shouldn\u2019t have said anything.<\/p>\n Jay leaned forward, focusing on the Tigers game, and said, \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know you\u2019re my girl.\u201d<\/p>\n Becky blushed. Jay would be her first official boyfriend. She had had hookups, and dates before, but not boyfriends. Relationships never seemed to work for her. Either the guy was unwilling to commit or she wasn\u2019t into it, but this felt different. Jay was different.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Becky was in her room, when she heard a commotion. Her parents had been arguing for a while, but that wasn\u2019t unusual. She lowered the music. Weirdly enough, it was quiet, and that scared Becky more than the fighting. She turned off the music completely and listened. Nothing.<\/p>\n Becky went to the kitchen and found her mother sitting at the table with her head in her hands, her body shaking. Becky glanced around. A glass bottle had shattered; pieces were scattered across the counter and the floor. There was a small trail of blood on the wood, presumably her mother\u2019s.<\/p>\n \u201cMom,\u201d she said. \u201cHoly fuck. Mom, what the hell happened.\u201d Now Becky was shaking.<\/p>\n Her mother looked up. Blood poured from her cheek.<\/p>\n \u201cHoly shit. Mom, oh my god.\u201d<\/p>\n Becky went straight for the towel hanging off the oven handle, careful to avoid the glass. She pressed the striped towel to her mother\u2019s face, then took off her sweater and wrapped it around her mother\u2019s arm. The blood slowly soaked the fabric and dribbled down Becky\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n \u201cWe need to take you to the ER. What the fuck happened?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was my fault,\u201d her mother said. She wouldn\u2019t look at Becky.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not your fault, Mom. This is a fucking mess. I\u2019m calling 9-11.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Becky, I\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHold this,\u201d Becky demanded. Her mother took the towel with her right hand and held it against her cheek.<\/p>\n Becky ran to get her cell phone and called the cops. They arrived eight minutes later and took Becky\u2019s mother away on a stretcher. She was stitched up and tested for internal head injuries.<\/p>\n Two hours later, Becky was sitting in the chair beside her mother\u2019s hospital bed.<\/p>\n \u201cMom, you have to tell me what happened. Where\u2019s Dad?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe left.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean, he left?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s gone, Becky,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cMom, seriously, tell me what happened.\u201d Becky needed to understand. Her father had never hurt her mother before, at least not physically. Verbally, yes, but never physically.<\/p>\n \u201cHe threw a bottle of wine,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cAt you?\u201d Anger trickled through Becky\u2019s body.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, at the wall. It shattered.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGod damnit, mom.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe left me, Beck,\u201d she said. \u201cIsn\u2019t that enough?\u201d Her mothers\u2019 eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n Becky\u2019s parents had met in high school and married when they were both twenty years old. Five months later, they had Becky\u2019s older sister, and two years later, they had Becky. For as long as she could remember, Becky\u2019s parents had fought over money, schedules, jobs, parenting. Their relationship was toxic.<\/p>\n Sitting in that sterile room, staring at her mother\u2019s bandaged face, Becky couldn\u2019t help feeling sorry for her. She reached around the IV and linked her fingers around her mother\u2019s wrinkly hand, wondering when she had last touched her mother; not since she was young and had to hold her mother\u2019s hand when crossing the street.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A few weeks after the incident, Becky returned home from Jay\u2019s, and found her mother sitting in the corner of the living room with her back to the wall and her knees pressed to her chest. A pile of papers sat beside her.<\/p>\n \u201cMom, what are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe wants a divorce.\u201d<\/p>\n Becky expected this, but instead of feeling relief, she felt a strange pang of heartache. She joined her mother on the floor in an attempt to comfort her. When Becky\u2019s mother lifted her head, she said, flatly, \u201cI don\u2019t have enough money.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019ll be fine,\u201d Becky promised. It\u2019s exactly what her parents had always told her; not that she ever believed them.<\/p>\n Her mother stood, leaving the papers behind, and said, \u201cYou need to get a job, Becky. I don\u2019t care what it is, but you need to do something.\u201d Her mother leaned against the couch, closed her eyes, and dropped her head in shame. \u201cI can\u2019t pay for your shit anymore,\u201d she said. Then she opened her eyes, dropped her arms, and drifted down the hallway.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI have a friend who could help,\u201d Jay offered.<\/p>\n \u201cReally? What does he do?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s got a good business, and you\u2019d do well.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat would I do?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a dating service,\u201d he said matter-of-factly.<\/p>\n \u201cA dating service? What the fuck does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll you have to do is escort rich men to events. It\u2019s easy and it pays. You\u2019ll make over $400 a night; easy\u201d<\/p>\n Becky felt uneasy. \u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs it safe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course it\u2019s safe. Forget I mentioned it. If you don\u2019t want my suggestions, don\u2019t ask,\u201d he replied bitterly.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Becky said. She let go of the spoon in her hand and touched Jay\u2019s arm. They were both sitting in front of the TV, holding a bowl of cereal.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks, I\u2019ll think about it, okay?\u201d Becky said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou said you needed the money.\u201d<\/p>\n She returned to her fruit loops and waited until the next commercial to ask, \u201cWouldn\u2019t it bother you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe escort thing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy would it bother me?\u201d he asked, serious.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause, I\u2019d be going out with other men. Isn\u2019t that kind of weird?\u201d It was, Becky decided.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019d be good at, and you need the money, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I guess.\u201d Becky took another bite of her cereal, thinking maybe he was right; she needed money.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Two weeks later, Becky found herself in the backseat of a Honda with a strange man. His name was Robert, he was a businessman, and he needed a date for a client meeting. He had requested a tall brunette with long legs and a decent ass. The night before, Jay took Becky to JC Penny\u2019s to pick out a new dress, ultimately deciding on a short cobalt blue dress that formed a V in the back, forcing her to go braless. She felt naked and exposed in the thin fabric, but Jay had recommended it for those very reasons.<\/p>\n Robert\u2019s personal driver had picked Becky up from Jay\u2019s and now they were headed to his client meeting.<\/p>\n \u201cHow old are you?\u201d Robert asked, as he brushed his hand through his sleek black hair.<\/p>\n \u201cSeventeen,\u201d Becky said.<\/p>\n \u201cTwenty.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m seventeen,\u201d she repeated.<\/p>\n \u201cWith me, you\u2019re twenty,\u201d Robert said.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t look twenty,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n He ignored her. \u201cKnow anything about stocks?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGreat. Just smile and look pretty. If anybody asks, tell them you\u2019re a hairdresser. You can do that, right Becky?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure.\u201d She turned towards the window and watched as cars swished past.<\/p>\n It was a long night, over three hours. They sat in a private back room of a crowded restaurant, and shared a four course meal. Becky remained quiet as she ate. When somebody asked how much money she made hairdressing, she said, \u201cfifteen an hour.\u201d They nodded in approval and asked what she thought of Obama. Becky had said, \u201cHe\u2019s great\u201d and the men all laughed, before returning to work. Becky had never felt as young and inferior as she did that night, as though she were just a fixture on the wall and nothing more.<\/p>\n Towards the end of the dinner, right before dessert, Robert leaned over and said, \u201cWhy you don\u2019t you give us a few minutes. Go fix yourself or something and come back in fifteen minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n Becky smiled politely and excused herself from the table. She was glad to leave that room, but as she stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror, she felt nauseous. She had worn too much makeup, but Jay had encouraged it, and she was showing too much side-boob.<\/p>\n It disturbed her, being in a strange restaurant with a strange man, not having any say in where she went or what she did. But she obeyed, because Jay promised it was safe, and he was right, she needed the money. Did it matter where the money came from? Becky wondered, knowing the answer.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n After dinner, Robert showed Becky back to the car. When they were both settled into the back seat, he pulled out a cigarette and lighter.<\/p>\n \u201cCan I have one?\u201d Becky asked.<\/p>\n He lit it, handed it over, and then reached for another. They rolled down their windows and breathed in the tobacco. Becky felt a sudden high. Smoking was a comfort, an addiction, and she felt at ease despite the circumstances.<\/p>\n \u201cYou did well,\u201d Robert said, as he brushed his cold hand across her bare knee. Becky sat upright, suddenly alert.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks,\u201d she said as she lifted the cigarette to the window.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe we can do this again,\u201d he said, as he grew increasingly, uncomfortably close to Becky. She anticipated a kiss or a boob grab, as if she were on a bad date, so she scooted closer to the warm air. Instead, Robert reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and handed over a folded stack of clean bills. Becky took the wad, pressed it into her purse, and politely thanked him.<\/p>\n That night, Jay insisted on counting the cash for her. He took it, walking towards his bedroom, and returned with a smile, revealing that dimple.<\/p>\n \u201cHe must\u2019ve liked you, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n Becky shrugged, \u201cI guess; I didn\u2019t do much.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou didn\u2019t have to.\u201d Jay approached Becky and latched onto her hips. \u201cCome here, sexy.\u201d He pulled her towards him, his breath on her cheek.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know if I\u2019ll do that again.\u201d She said, as Jay kissed her cheekbone, the back of her jaw, and then her earlobe. His muscular body was wrapped tightly around her thin frame.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was easy, wasn\u2019t it?\u201d he said with a growly voice.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, but I didn\u2019t like it.\u201d<\/p>\n He pulled back, his hands still on her waist. \u201cWhat\u2019s not to like?\u201d He looked down on her. \u201cYou keep this up, and you\u2019ll be making bank. It\u2019s good business, you\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCash is cash, Beck, and you need it, don\u2019t you,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n She remained quiet, as the words rushed over her like the steam in a hot shower.<\/p>\n You need it, don\u2019t you. <\/em><\/p>\n Jay resumed the kissing, and Becky discarded the words, hoping they\u2019d disappear from her memory, but she already knew they\u2019d resurface like a dead fish.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n On her third date with Robert, she was taken to a dive bar in downtown Detroit. He held her hand, leading her through the dimly-lit room, until he found his people in the far corner. There were three guys; all dressed in suits, their coats open revealing button-up shirts and stray chest hairs. Each held a glass of brown liquor and Becky quickly learned that these guys were friends, not co-workers.<\/p>\n Sitting there, all done up, Becky felt like a cufflink, clinging to Robert\u2019s arm as though her sole purpose was to look expensive. Robert and his pals urged Becky to drink so she did and the longer they stayed, the drunker she got. They indulged her; offering shots and drinks over and over again.<\/p>\n Becky stumbled to the bathroom, feeling as though she were being pushed from both sides. She bent down to vomit in the toilet and only when she felt capable of standing did she return. It could have been minutes or hours, Becky wasn\u2019t sure, but the men didn\u2019t seem to notice her absence. Robert and a friend linked arms with Becky and led her back to the car. Everything was spinning; the cars in the parking lot, the stars in the sky. Their laughter echoed, burning her ears.<\/p>\n Once in the backseat, Becky became hypersensitive, feeling the bass of the music in her forehead. Halfway home, Robert put his hand on Becky\u2019s leg. He dragged it all the way up to her lacy underwear. Becky was too drunk to react, but she knew it was all wrong.<\/p>\n \u201cNot okay,\u201d she slurred.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s alright, baby, it won\u2019t hurt.\u201d<\/p>\n Suddenly his hand was pressed to her mouth, shutting her up, as he yanked her underwear down, and shoved his fingers inside. It hurt, that much she knew, but she couldn\u2019t stop him. She could hardly comprehend the events, her mind racing, and the world spinning. He continued, and then, just as quickly, he was inside her. Certain her screams, though muffled, were audible, Becky looked to the driver, his eyes fixated on the road. She struggled to push him away, but she was weak and he persisted, coming inside of her.<\/p>\n When the car finally stopped, Robert had buttoned up his pants and now he handed her a pile of cash. She took it, unable to comprehend what just happened. She looked again at the driver, but he was looking away as she stepped out of the car in her tiny dress.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n She stood outside Jay\u2019s door and cried.<\/p>\n \u201cBeck, what\u2019s the matter?\u201d he said, letting her inside.<\/p>\n \u201cHe,\u201d she started, but the words wouldn\u2019t come.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you hungry?\u201d Jay asked, changing subjects.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d she gasped.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t we go sit down.\u201d<\/p>\n Becky collapsed on the couch, the cold leather grazing her skin. Only then did she realize her underwear was left on the floor of the car. The tears fell faster.<\/p>\n \u201cStop crying, Beck, and tell me what\u2019s wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n After she finally said, \u201cHe raped me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, Becky,\u201d he said, as he held her and rubbed the back of her head. She cried into his shoulders, the scotch attempting to crawl back up her throat.<\/p>\n She felt dirty and nauseous, but eventually the tears stopped and she drifted to a light sleep.<\/p>\n She awoke on the couch, alone, in last night\u2019s dress, with a flannel blanket wrapped around her body. She stretched out her limbs, suddenly aware of her sore thighs. In an instant, Becky felt the weight of the previous night crushing her delicate body. She sat upright, her stomach lurching forward in an attempt to vomit, but nothing came out.<\/p>\n \u201cHey you,\u201d Jay said casually from the open kitchen. He was dressed in a pair of sweats holding two mugs.<\/p>\n \u201cI have coffee,\u201d he said with a smile, as though it were a typical morning.<\/p>\n He sat on the far end of the couch and handed over the blue and green striped mug. Becky took it, and then yanked at Jay\u2019s arm, begging him to be closer.<\/p>\n \u201cWe need to tell somebody,\u201d she said with a quiet concern.<\/p>\n \u201cWe can\u2019t, Beck,\u201d he said matter-of-factly.<\/p>\n \u201cHe can\u2019t do that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure he can. He paid you.\u201d Jay said then took a sip of coffee.<\/p>\n In sync with her pounding headache, Becky\u2019s heart raced. Did that make her a prostitute? No, she didn\u2019t sign up for that. She was an escort, nothing more.<\/p>\n Becky put the mug on the table and fell into Jay\u2019s chest. With his free hand, he rubbed her shoulder and then kissed the top of her greasy hair.<\/p>\n Jay turned on the TV and only after three episodes of Friends did Jay say, \u201cYou might not want to hear this, but you made a killing last night.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Becky lifted her head from his chest.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, eleven hundred.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSeriously?\u201d In an attempt to forget about the night, she\u2019d also forgotten about the money.<\/p>\n \u201cI know he shouldn\u2019t have done that,\u201d Jay said, \u201cbut it wasn\u2019t so bad, was it?\u201d<\/p>\n Becky pushed herself up so she was hovering over Jay. \u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m just saying; it\u2019s not that big of a deal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt is a big deal,\u201d she returned, the anger building.<\/p>\n \u201cListen, Beck, I really like you. Hell, I love you, but this is something you have to do. Don\u2019t worry about me, okay? I support you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you kidding? I don\u2019t want to do that ever again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBeck, you need the money, and honestly, I can\u2019t keep paying for your shit. It\u2019s a good thing you got this gig. You can start contributing and you can get different clients, if you want; that\u2019s not a big deal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you serious?\u201d Becky stood off the couch. Everything felt wrong.<\/p>\n \u201cBeck, don\u2019t get like that, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou just said you love me. Now you want me to prostitute myself?\u201d She couldn\u2019t believe she\u2019d even said it aloud.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not like that,\u201d he said, as he stood and grabbed her hand. \u201cYou have to support yourself and your mom. I\u2019ll be here, alright, no matter what. I\u2019m yours, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n Thousands of emotions rushed through Becky\u2019s body like the blue dye from an MRI. She felt warm and jittery.<\/p>\n \u201cBut it hurt,\u201d she admitted, as Jay let go of her sweaty hand.<\/p>\n \u201cIt won\u2019t, after a while.\u201d He wrapped his body around her, smothering her with the smell of cigarettes and coffee. \u201cJust make sure they wear condoms,\u201d he said. \u201cI don\u2019t want any guy knocking up my girl,\u201d he snickered.<\/p>\n Becky looked up at Jay. His round eyes were fixed on her. He was smiling lovingly, holding her tightly, and promising her welfare. Maybe he was right; maybe it was for the best. She did need the money and Becky trusted Jay. If he was okay with it, then why wasn\u2019t she?<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll still love me?\u201d she pleaded.<\/p>\n \u201cOf course,\u201d he promised. \u201cIt\u2019ll be worth it, you\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n Becky closed her eyes as Jay kissed her oily forehead.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sarah Sheppard is an MFA student at Lesley University and a book publishing professional. \u00a0She writes blog posts for Global Rescue Relief, a nonprofit human rights organization that provides direct and necessary relief to human trafficking survivors. \u00a0She was born and raised in Michigan, but currently resides in Somerville, MA.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" When she first saw him, Becky was heading into the 7-11 on Harper Avenue to buy a Slurpee, Twizzlers, and a pack of Camels. He was smoking. Vapor drifted from his lips as he leaned into the brick wall. His shoulders were relaxed, his head arched back. He wore a t-shirt with the Guns N\u2019 [&hellip<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2837,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2833","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-prose"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2833","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2833"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2833\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2899,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2833\/revisions\/2899"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2837"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2833"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2833"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2833"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}