The bus station is busy because it’s Monday morning. Most people are going to work, but this is my weekend. JD and I work Thursday through Sunday. If all goes well—and most weeks it does—we film Thursday, Friday, and Saturday and then I edit and deliver on Sunday.
This week we have girls lined up for all three filming days. But that doesn’t mean they will show. I’m not sure why we’ve had such a rash of no-shows lately, but it’s getting old. I can’t wait to shed this business and move on.
I spy a hooker I know coming out of the bus station and whistle. “Shadow!” I wave her over.
She takes a long drag on her smoke, probably wondering what I want. Maybe wondering if I’ll pay her to suck off JD. But we don’t do whores. They can’t pass the health tests.
Shadow knows this, so that’s why she hesitates. I don’t want her for work, so I must want her for something else.
She drops the cigarette and stubs it out with the toe of her four-inch heels, then waves back as she looks both ways and crosses the street. Her short skirt is gold and barely covers her ass, and her top is sleeveless and beaded with black and gold sequins. “I ain’t seen him,” she says as she steps up on the curb. “I know you only come here to look for JD and I ain’t seen him.”
I nod. “OK. Well, thanks for letting me know.”
“Now wait, sugar. I said I ain’t seen him. But I heard something that you might find interesting.”
I don’t bother being suspicious. Shadow wants a little bit of cash and truthfully, I’d have given it to her just for crossing the street. So I’ll take whatever she’s got. I grab a wad of bills from my pocket and count out three twenties. “Buy some breakfast, Shadow. You’re too skinny.”
She smiles and I notice she’s missing a tooth. Not one right in front, but off to the side a little bit. “You always were a sweet talker, Ark.”
I put my hands up like I’m guilty.
“Anyways, I was just coming from Charlie’s and I overheard some men talking about you.”
“Me?” Charlie is her pimp. Not some corner dude, either. A guy who knows his business.
She pulls out another smoke and lights it up, taking her time with a long drag. “Uh-huh. Someone called in while I was talking to him. They tells him there’s a girl missing and do Charlie know anything about it. Then Charlie says talk to JD and Ark, because you keeps track of the street girls.”
“Do you know who called him?” I ask, feigning disinterest.
“Nah,” she says. “Charlie just hung up without saying names. But he was talking all polite and shit. So my intuition figures it was someone more important than him.”
“OK. Well, thanks for that, Shadow. I guess he’ll get in contact with me if it’s important.”
She flashes me her new smile. “Any time, sugar.”
“What happened to your tooth?” I point to the missing one she’s flashing, but her smile fades quick.
“Nothin’. Just a misunderstanding.”
I smile at her. “OK, Shadow. Stay safe.”
“You too, honey.” But she’s already walking off.
I sit on the wall for a little longer trying to figure out what that bit of information might add up to. Blue is running, that’s for sure. And they were violent with her. Beatings, torture maybe, possibly rape. They’ve got her ID. They marked her as property. And she’s afraid to call home.
Add that to JD’s missing girlfriend from four years ago and that means something.
Back in the early days, before the money started pouring in, JD and I were winging it hardcore. It took weeks to clean him up and he had like two dozen relapses. Every time I took him back to rehab, they asked me why I bothered. And I always told them the same thing. Because no one else will.
Everybody’s got a past. Everybody is running from some demon or another. Everybody needs a second chance. If there’s a person out there who has not fucked up royally and needed a second chance… well, that person hasn’t lived yet.
And four years later, I do not regret one moment of all the effort it took to drag him out of his depression, his addiction, and his self-loathing, and hand him the opportunity of a lifetime.
Because no matter what JD is, he’s smart. And he took that chance. He moved on. He made movies with me. He made money with me. Hell, he did more than move on. He moved up.
But that scar…
I saw his face last night when he lifted her hair. I saw him look up at me like that kid I found trying his hardest not to get his ass kicked in front of this very wall of concrete four years ago.
He expects answers this time.
And he expects me to help get them.
I get up and start walking back to the loft and then spy a drug store across the street. I cross and go inside to pick something up for Blue that she will surely be needing.
I find my dress in the trash. Not that I’d wear it again. It looks like it went through hell. But it would’ve been nice to be asked if I wanted to wash it, considering I have no other clothes.
I found something, though. Sweats and a t-shirt of JD’s in his closet. But the pants have to be rolled over so many times, it makes the t-shirt bunch out over my belly. When I look in the mirror it makes me look pregnant and that just hurts like hell.
I unroll the sweats and hold them up as I make my way to the kitchen. There’s still mess in there from last night, so I start cleaning up. I’m just closing the dishwasher after loading it up when the door opens and Ark walks in.
He throws his keys on a small table in the foyer and then hangs up his leather jacket. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt with the cuffs casually rolled up. There’s a tie around his collar as well, but it’s loose.
I squint at him. Is that a fashion statement? Or was he really wearing a white shirt and tie for business reasons?
“What?” he asks, looking into the open kitchen.
I shake my head and start wiping down the counters. His shoes—dressy, I realize as I try to concentrate on the countertops—tap across the floor and stop just off to my right.
I lift my head a little to look up at him. “What?”