This Is a Dark Ride (3 page)

The thought of actually paying to live here was almost as depressing as sneaking in and out. She’d considered just taking the money and getting a bus ticket. No destination in mind other than someplace warm, somewhere there was no snow.

Starting over. That sure sounded nice. Angel sighed. It was good to have dreams, but they couldn’t get in the way of reality. Life has to be lived, and you do what you have to. Sometimes dreams only get in the way of what must be done to survive. She licked her chapped lips, tasting the thick, waxy lipstick that coated them.

A cockroach darted across the floor, pausing for a second near the rust-streaked bathtub. Angel stepped on it with the toe of her cheap black high-heel shoe. Those shoes had seen better days; the plastic on the heels had long ago worn away, and the fake leather was bubbled and peeling.

It had been so cold lately that she’d started wearing socks with them to help keep her feet warm. She’s bought lace-trimmed ankle socks at the dollar store, and they didn’t look too bad with the shoes. They sold panty hose there, but the largest size they carried would not fit her. When she’d put them on, the crotch was barely above her knees. The socks were more practical anyway. It was hard to get panty hose back on in a car.

Can’t wait for spring. Better yet, summer
. Her feet wouldn’t be cold. She wouldn’t be cold anymore.

Angel looked down at the insect and wrinkled her nose as its legs gave a final few wiggles. A single dead cockroach. That would hardly make a dent in the population. There were plenty more where that one had come from. She picked it up with a wad of tissue and tossed it into the toilet.

No one had come to look at the empty apartment, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Angel hid her backpack under the bathroom sink, way in the back of the cupboard. All her money was tucked beneath the red-and-white-checked vinyl liner of the second drawer beside the stove in the kitchenette. Hopefully even if someone came to see the unit, they wouldn’t find that hidden money. It was safe there. Safer than it would be if she was carrying it around. Too many desperate people out there, and she wasn’t naive enough to lull herself into believing she couldn’t be robbed. It happened every day.

Angel gave one last tired look in the mirror, trying to decide if she liked what she saw. She’d lost weight since she’d left home. Not much. She was still a size 14 all day long, but she noticed subtle differences. Maybe. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking from the little fat girl inside of her who was tired of hearing things like
she has such a pretty face
or
big boned
to describe her.

She wasn’t pretty. Never had been.

In the kitchenette of the unit she stood at the window, watching the snow blowing in the streetlight beams. It looked nasty out there. How nice it would be to do something normal tonight, like curl up in a warm bed and watch television.

No TV for you, Angel. Time to psych yourself up for your own private version of normal; time to open up and say
ah!
Swallow some stranger’s cock like a good whore and collect your money.

That little fat girl was just a ghost now. That poor, stupid girl who’d been ignored by every boy she liked in school, who’d had spit wads thrown at her in study hall and been called names. That girl had been an idiot.

Men paid to fuck her now. Paid. Paid for something none of the boys she’d once liked had even wanted for free. So what if she wasn’t pretty? She gave the best head on this street.

I don’t want to
do
this
, the little fat girl’s voice sometimes told her.

Fuck you. This is all you can do. This is what you are. You’re a nothing, just like you always were. At least men want you now. You should be thankful.

She turned off the bathroom light and opened the apartment door. The hall was deserted, and she paused there in the doorway for a moment, listening to the sounds that came from inside the other units. People laughing, eating dinner, watching television, oblivious to the fact that she was here or that she’d been here. Like being dead, walking through the world unnoticed. Angel blinked back tears, tears of the little girl inside of her, and she took a deep breath until both the tears and the child were locked away.

When she stepped into the hall and quietly closed the door to the vacant apartment behind her, the power flickered. Angel looked at the bare bulbs on the cracked, water-stained ceiling, watching them grow dim. They flashed off once again, plunging the building into blackness. She stood motionless in the stifling darkness, listening to the people inside of their apartments cursing. The power came back on in a matter of seconds, and she took advantage of the light to creep to the stairwell.

In the hallway behind her she heard a series of faint clicks as someone began unlocking their door, and she bolted down the two flights of stairs that led to the street entrance beside the liquor store.

It was going to be a cold one out there tonight, and she still hadn’t gotten a coat.

She thought of the big man who’d stopped several days ago. The one who’d commented on her not wearing a coat. If she was lucky, maybe he’d come back sometime. He’d been a looker, that one. He was no regular john either—she was willing to bet the man had never paid for sex in his life.

Angel huddled in the recess of the doorway, trying to stay out of the wind. This might be a short night. She couldn’t see being out here for long in this weather, and there wasn’t much traffic on the street.

She promised herself she’d stop doing this as soon as she could get a place to live like a normal person. With a normal job. That nagging little bitch inside of her kept demanding to know just what exactly she knew about normal.

Fuck you, Angel. You grew up getting fucked by the man you called Daddy. Is that normal?

A pretty little silver car pulled up to the curb, and Angel trotted to the middle of the sidewalk, leaving the slight warmth of the doorway behind.

Fuck you right back, fat bitch. That’s an Audi. Bryant Henderson, the boy from algebra class with the piece of shit Toyota, wouldn’t even talk to you in school. I’m gonna get
paid
to fuck a guy who drives an Audi.

The wind made her shiver, but she didn’t hug herself any longer to try and stay warm. It would ruin her pose—her persona—and that was a nice car. She couldn’t afford to let this one slip away, especially on a night like tonight.

Angel put on her best fake smile and swayed over to the driver’s window. Tinted glass opened, revealing glittering gray eyes.

She smiled at the man behind the wheel, noting that the last thing on earth he looked like he would do was smile back.

“Want a date?”

“How much?”

Despite the angry eyes, he was a young kid with a fairly pleasant tone of voice. She could only see his shirt, but it looked expensive. Silk maybe. It was a pale peach color. Angel looked at the car again. It was new. Classy. He could probably afford a little more than what she usually asked.

“A hundred.”

He jacked an eyebrow up. “A hundred? That’s a little steep for this end of town.” The window started to go back up.

“Seventy-five?”

He stopped the window midway and shook his head. “How about fifty?”

She nodded. That was her regular price anyhow, and it was too fucking cold to be haggling anymore. Besides, he was young. This car was either his daddy’s or his daddy had paid for it, and the kid’s allowance was probably spent on frivolous things like that peachy silk shirt.

“What’s that get me?” he asked, and she heard someone else in the car chuckle.

More than one in the car. Her gut told her that was bad news, but the wind and the snow took precedence over her gut feeling.

“Whatever you want.” She put her business face on. “But…if there’s more than one of you, it’s one at a time and that fifty dollars is
per person
.”

The corners of his mouth turned up like he wanted to smile. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Get in.”

The door was open when she walked around the car. No interior lights, but another young man sat in the front passenger seat, and he leaned forward and moved the seat up.

“Backseat,” a voice said, and for a second she hesitated.

“Get the fuck in the car.” She recognized the driver’s voice then, but there was no trace of the pleasant tone he’d had only a few minutes ago.

Angel took a step back. “I don’t think—”

A voice from the backseat interrupted her. “Come on, chill! Don’t talk to her like that. She’s cool.”

Angel could vaguely make out the man in the back despite the car being dark. He held a liquor bottle, and she thought he was smiling.

She peered in the backseat, squinting for a better view. They didn’t appear related. This man was older, and he was darker than the blond kid behind the wheel. Dark hair, dark eyes. He wasn’t dressed very well either, wearing some kind of work clothes.

“Come on, baby, get in! It’s too cold out there.” He and the person in the passenger seat giggled like they shared a private joke.

She smiled at the almost comical way he slurred his words. Just a carload of harmless drunks, celebrating something. Angel slipped between the seats and sat down in the back, beside the man with the champagne.

“It is cold out there,” she told him as the passenger door slammed closed. “I thought it was going to be a bad night.” With three in one car she could possibly make a hundred and fifty dollars before she had to go back out in the cold. Things were definitely looking up.

His arm went around her, tighter than she would have liked, but he was a fairly large man, so he might not have been rough on purpose.

“You’ll be warm before you know it,” he said cheerfully. He put his hand beneath her chin and turned her face toward his. Enough light was filtering in through the windows that she got a better look at him up close.

Oh. He was an ugly one. Creases around his eyes like he was always mad, a bulbous nose. He kept a big fake smile on his face, but it was more creepy than reassuring.

“You got pretty lips.” He tipped the bottle, took a long swallow, then held it toward her.

“Drink?”

She looked at his smiling mouth, with the dried crust of white spit at the corners, and inwardly shuddered. “No, thanks.”

“You should.”

“No. I like to keep a clear head.”

He snickered. “You like to give head?”

God, he was fucking irritating. She wanted to do him just to get it over with and get the hell out of the car. “Love it.”

“Hey, is it true what they say?”

“What do they say?”

“That fat chicks give the best head, because they’re always hungry?” He laughed. Not really a laugh, but a scoff. A sound that reverberated through her mind, a sound that made the ghost inside her come alive.
The bastard was laughing at her.

Without thinking, she slapped him. Hard. The force behind her hand felt superhuman, propelled by all the buried anger at everyone who had made fun of her in the past.

The man barely flinched, and the smile was still plastered on his disgusting mouth. A little wave of fear rose up in her. She’d hit him with all she had, and the fucker was still smiling.

He shoved the bottle in her face. “Take a drink, bitch.”

Angel pushed forward on the back of the passenger side seat, but it wouldn’t move.

“Pull over,” she shouted at the driver.

The young man behind the wheel ignored her. The vehicle veered sharply, and they drove through a narrow alley. Angel wasn’t sure where they were. It all looked the same through the windshield. There was snow on everything. There were some Dumpsters, trash cans…

“Let me out,” Angel said, ignoring the rising panic inside of her. She was too angry to be afraid right now.
Fuck you. I’m too good for you
. It was an empowering thought. These assholes didn’t deserve her.

The man beside her still clutched the bottle in one hand. He grabbed the front of her blouse, and for a moment it tightened across the back of her neck. With one hard yank the cheap fabric tore like paper.

She kicked him, landing a blow somewhere on his shin. Her legs were bound by her tight skirt, but she wiggled on the seat, desperate to make him hurt. He wouldn’t have her for free; in fact, he wouldn’t have her at all. She hadn’t wanted him to begin with. There was no way he was going to do this to her. One of her shoes came off, but her foot connected with something.
Fuck. That hurt
. She had probably injured her toes more than she had his leg.

He seemed to be amused. Pleased. Happy. He was fucking jovial—and that pissed her off even more.

“You know you really ought to have a drink,” he said in a calm voice. He tipped the bottle and took another long gulp.

“Fuck you. Fuck all of you! Stop this goddamn car, now!” The car didn’t even slow down, and the driver didn’t bother to look at her.

“Have a drink.” The man beside her pushed the bottle near her face. His voice was low and threatening. There was rage in his eyes, but his face remained frozen in that awful grimace. “Put your lips on the bottle. You and this bottle are going to be good friends.”

You ugly bastard. You’ll get nothing from me
. Angel spit in his face.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand, seeming unaffected, but for the first time the smile he wore faded. “You picked the wrong guy to fuck with, you dirty whore.”

The car stopped, and the driver’s head finally turned as he looked back over his shoulder. The man in the passenger seat did the same, and his face was briefly illuminated in orange as he flicked a lighter.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” the man next to her said coolly. His large hand grasped her brutally around her neck. He started to squeeze, and she struggled to breathe. All her anger turned to panic as she saw the men in the front seat regarding her with anticipation. They weren’t going to help her. Speaking wasn’t possible, but if she could, she knew that they would ignore her. Whatever was going to happen, they weren’t going to stop it. They were here to watch. She stared at them, all the while her eyes felt like they were bulging out as the men’s faces began to blur. For a few moments she gave up trying to see, trying to struggle, trying to think. Her eyes closed. Angel knew she’d pass out soon, or die. Or both.