Part One: There is No Such Thing as Human Debris

Part One: There is No Such Thing as Human Debris

 

            Eleven PM on a cold December Tuesday night.  The air was clear with a quick breeze and the bright stars twinkled in the chill.  There was no moon.  Below them to the north a purple cloud of light crept up into the sky.  A young man sat in a small, older truck, silver and dented with a white camper shell in a dark parking lot.  He shifted in his seat.  He’d been sitting there for over two hours trying to decide if going inside the building was worth it or not.  After years of searching and the possibility of it ending in this parking lot he was left with an empty feeling.  Before, he thought he would feel anxious.  Maybe it was only the search that kept him going, the need to find something.  Yet, looking for so long has left him accustomed to the search.  He decided now was the time to either go inside or leave forever.  He didn’t come all this way just to leave.

            The building sat ominously in front of him, black against the purple sky with only a neon sign to show passer-byers that it wasn’t just another warehouse.  The pink and green sign boasting the words “Pussy Catz” showed that it was instead just another whorehouse.  The only light was coming out of the double glass doors at the front and a light just outside of them, with the exception of a street light at the driveway.

            He reached into his pocket and counted the money in his wallet.  He had almost $600 from his job at a big Christmas tree lot.  The pay wasn’t great but the tips really helped him out, doubling his pay.  He put his wallet away.  His breath came out in white puffs and he pulled his ball cap tighter onto his head as he got out of his truck.  There were several other cars in the parking lot.  While he’d been sitting there he’d seen eleven men go in and six different men leave.  Some cars were high class and some were in worse shape then his own, and some were in between.

            He wasn’t nervous but he lit a fresh cigarette anyway, staring at the building in the dark.  A pizza delivery car drove up to the door and a skinny delivery boy scrambled out of his car and into the front door of the building with a pizza case.  After a minute or two he hurried back out, got into his car and sped off.  The young man got out of his truck, dropped his cigarette butt, stepped it out and walking to the building.

            The inside hallway reminded him of a hospital, specifically like the one he went to after getting his eyebrow split open in a fight and needing stitches.  It was sterile.  He could almost smell rubbing alcohol.  The walls were white and blank, the white tile floors were speckled with bland color and there were two wooden benches along the right wall.  He heard his footsteps echoing against the walls.  Up ahead sat a chubby man with curly red hair and freckles shoving pizza into his face and making noises that resembles a pig.  He sat behind a wall of bullet-proof glass with a cluster of small holes for communication purposes and a short, wide slot at the bottom for exchange purposes.  On the wall behind him hung a small analog clock and a big sterile white sign displaying prices.  1 girl/45 minutes at $500.  2 girls/45 minutes at $650.  $150 each additional half hour.  The pig looked up at him snorting, and shoved more food into his mouth.

            As he approached the counter the wall on his right side jumped back, and sure enough, there was a backlit wall of pictures of naked female pussies just like at a fast food restaurant.  Each had a number up to #58 with captions like “Purebred Italian,” “Purebred African,” “Purebred Mexican,” “100% American,” “Half and Half,” “Fresh and Fragrant.”  Some were shaved clean, some had pubic styling, some had small bushes.  Some of the pictures weren’t lit up, like they were unavailable.

            The young man studied the pictures on the wall and he found the one he was looking for, the one pussy he would never forget during the entirety of his life.  Turning to the pig he put down $500 down on the counter made up from $20 and $5 bills.  That was the majority of his money.  He was lucky it wasn’t more.  If it was more and he had to leave, he didn’t know if he could bring himself to return.

            “Number thirty-four,” he said, his voice raspy and his mouth dry.  He could hear the mumble of a television from the other side of the glass.  The Pig grunted and got up.  As the Pig typed something into a computer the young man caught a faint reflection of himself on the bullet-proof glass.  He saw the old beanie he wore over his cap, the big, worn-in jacket with the high collar and his rectangular black-framed glasses.  His beard had grown out over the years.  Behind that he could see his cheeks were dark and sunken in a little and bags under his eyes, a thinned neck and shoulders.  Thoughts were running through his mind like this is the end, what if it isn’t her, what could possibly come of this, what are you going to do, you aren’t prepared for this, etc.

            The Pig picked up a phone and barked something into it and hung up.  Then he counted the money and tossed a key with a keychain engraved with the numbers ‘319’ on the counter through the slot.

            “Up the stairs, 3^rd floor, down the hall to your left.  You got 45 minutes.  If you want more, tell her.  You pay her.  Got that?”  The Pig dictated.

            The young man nodded, took the key and headed up the sterile stairs to the third floor.  He was careful not to touch the railings of the walls, keeping his hands in his pockets.  At the head of the stairs on the third floor was a door with a push panic bar.  He turned and pushed it open with his back.  The hallway was dark, with light sconces lighting up single spots along the walls.  On the way down the hall he heard muffled female laughter, male mumbling and women crying out and faking orgasms from behind closed doors.  Mirrors lined the walls between doors.  He tried to avoid his reflection in them.  The red carpet looked old and worn.  The red and gold striped wallpaper was faded and peeling in some areas.

            His feet stopped moving and he was in front of door 319.  He didn’t feel nervous but he still wiped his palms on his ratted jeans.  His heart started to speed up in anticipation.  He assumed he was supposed to open the door with the key, but he knocked instead.  Softly at first, then more firm.

            There was some faint rustling behind the door followed by some footsteps and the door swung open.  He held his breath.  He could hear his heart beating in his ears.

            She stood with one arm holding the door open and the other leaning, almost holding her up on the door frame.  She was wearing a tight, short dress buttoned-up to her neck made entirely of some small looped lace.  He could see every curve of her naked body under the lace and the outlines of her dark nipples.  Her dark brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and kind of had a 1940’s twist to it.  Her lips were painted red and she had thick lines of eyeliner sweeping beyond her eyes and pointing to her temples, stacked on top with thick, dark eye shadow.  He watched her eyes.  They started at his feet and after grazing up his body she turned her head up to his face and their eyes locked.

            “Hollis…” she whispered.  He gave her a small, faint smile that was mostly hidden by his beard.  She stepped out of the doorway and he walked in.  She shut the door behind him and stood staring at it, trying to believe what had just happened.  Hollis glanced around the small room.  He saw a full mattress on a simple bed frame covered in an embroidered white sheet with a few pillows.  A lamp table with a big glass fishbowl filled with condoms and sexual lubricant, a few dildos and a box of tissues sat next to the bed.  There were also two simple cushioned wooden chairs with armrests against the wall next to the door.  On the purple painted walls were framed old-fashioned burlesque photos and sketches, along with pictures of flowers.  There was a window in the wall facing him between the bed and the closet door with dark purple velvet curtain draped closed over it.

            Hollis removed his jacket and hats.  Under his jacket he wore a hooded sweatshirt which he then removed and hung over one chair along with his jacket, revealing a thin flannel shirt with holes showing another shirt beneath.  He left those on and sat in the second chair with his hands folded in his lap.

            She slowly moved away from the door and sat tentatively on the edge of the bed with her legs stretched out in front of her, straight and crossed.  They sat looking at each other, silent and motionless.

            Finally she spoke.  “What are you doing here?”

            He looked into her eyes.  “I could ask you the same thing.”

            Her eyes stared back into his, not leaving.  There was another silence.

            “How did you find me?”

            “Three years of searching was bound to be fruitful at some point.”
            “You looked for me for three years?”

            He nodded.  “Since right after you left.”

            Her eyes dropped once he spoke.  She never expected this to happen.  She even tried to cover up her tracks as best as she could.  She was embarrassed to be seen by him like this.  She felt her eyes start to tear up and she turned to look up at where the wall met the ceiling, waiting for the tears to disappear.

            Hollis was watching her.  Her chest rose and sank slowly with her breath.  She used to look healthy but her skin has lost color and she looked malnourished.  Her breasts were considerably smaller.  He knew she was spending these past few years destroying herself, he just didn’t know how bad.

            With her eyes almost dry again she turned back to look at him.  His stature was much smaller than he used to be.  His dark blonde hair had grown out enough to get wavy and matted.  He had a beard that grew out past his jaw line and was full of different shades, ranging from light blonde to dark auburn.  She wanted to jump into his arms and feel his strong shoulders around her, the pressure of his body against hers, but she also wanted to slap his face hard enough to bulge his eyes out permanently.  She remained still.

            “Don’t you eat anymore?”  Hollis asked after they had been staring at each other for a while.

            The girl laughed.  “Well,” she said, “with all the diet pills and coke around here it’s hard to find the time to eat.”  She looked at him and asked, “How about you?”

            “Whenever I can,” he said.  He sat looking at her and felt emotions he couldn’t give a name to.  Mostly, though, he was in pain.  He hated seeing her like this.  She was so cold and in a way, almost hollow.  Seeing her nude body made him uncomfortable.  He didn’t know what his plan would be once he found her, but all he wanted was to rescue her from herself.  He said her name.  “Claire…”

            She winced.  She wasn’t ready to hear her name come from his lips, not yet.

            He continued.  “I want you to come with me.”

            “Where?” She asked mockingly, scoffing.

            “It doesn’t matter.  Away.  From here.  From… this.” 

            Claire looked disgusted.  She laughed.  “You think you can just show up, at my job, out of the blue and take me away with you?  Not even here for an hour and you’re already fucking trying to control me.”

            “Well look at where you are.  You get fucked every night by countless, dirty strangers with no idea about where they’ve been before.  Do you like this life?”

            “At least this life has been my decision the whole way.  Besides, this place isn’t bad; it’s better than most.”

            Hollis crossed his arms and looked at her in disbelief that she could say a place like this and a life like this wasn’t bad.

            “Anyway,” she continued, “I can’t just up and walk away.  I’m bound to a contract.  I have three months left before I can renew or leave.”  She didn’t forget to mention that she could buy out of her contract.  She meant to leave it out.

            To Hollis this almost sounded like there was a chance she would want to go with him.  They sat in silence again.

            Claire was beginning to relax a little.  She felt like she was in control of this meeting.  She sat back on the bed, away from the edge and trailed her naked foot in circles on the carpet.  “Have you been in town long?”  She asked, not looking up.

            “Maybe a little over two months.”

            “Where are you staying?”

            “In my truck.”

            “In weather this cold?”

            “You’d be surprised how quick one can get accustomed to the cold,” Hollis said.  Her silence told him she knew.

            The built in digital wall timer chimed.  Time had gone by quickly, almost too quickly.

            “You have five minutes left,” she told him.  “Do you want to get your money’s worth?”

            Hollis laughed in a piercingly mean way.  “I bet you’d like it if I paid you for sex.”

            She stared at him.  His eyes seemed to be fueled by raw emotion.  In the past she would have recoiled at a verbal jab like that.  Now she only continues the business.  “Your other option is buying more time.”

            “No,” he said, getting up.  “I think I’ve seen enough.”  He started to put his sweatshirt and jacket back on.  Claire watched him move, then got up and opened her closet door, reaching into a pocket in her small robe and pulled out some folded bills adding up to $980.  She held them out towards Hollis.

            “Take this,” she said to him.

            His tall figure turned around at her words.  He looked down at the bills and snorted.  “I don’t want your… money,” he said, putting his cap and beanie on his head.

            “Since when did you start caring about where money comes from?”  A pause.  “Look, just take it.  Sleep in a bed tonight.  Buy some new pants.  Eat a hot meal.  There are good all-night buffets all over the city…”  Another pause.  “Maybe you could use it to come back and see me…”  As she finished speaking his eyes fell down to the money she was now holding out in a clenched fist.  He held out his hand below it and she dropped it into his hand.

            They both paused again for a moment, eyes locked.  Then Hollis turned away and the door shut quickly behind him.  With the sounds of the door click and his footsteps walking quickly away Claire’s legs felt weak.  She fell into the closest chair.  It was the chair he had been sitting in.  She could feel the heat that had radiated from his body as he had sat there.  She felt a sudden chill run up her body.  She closed her eyes and saw the image of him sitting in the same chair burned into her retinas and reflecting off the black of her eyelids.  She had to see him one last time, in case it was the last time.  She slowly opened the door and looked around.  The hallway was empty.  That was good.  She didn’t want to see anyone and have to talk or answer questions.  She closed the door and hurried down the hall to a dark conference room with a round table in the center and a window facing the parking lot.

            She got there in time to see him walking across the parking lot.  He was by his same old truck with a new camper shell.  She held her breath, watching him.  He pulled his keys from his jacket pocket and opened the door.  Before he moved to get into his truck he turned his head to look back at the building where he had found her.  She saw him gaze for long enough to think he was going to turn around and come back.  Then he got into the truck and after a moment he drove away.

            Claire took a step away from the window, then turned and walked back to her room.  She hoped to not get any more business that night.  She pulled her robe out of her closet and left her room again.  She went to the lounge the girls kept at the end of the hall and poured herself a generous bourbon on the rocks.

Part 1.2

            The next night Claire sat on the bed with a regular customer.  His head lay in her lap.  He was an older man with balding, white hair and a bright red scalp.  He was a prosperous business man and he treated Claire like a priest.  He would come see her once a week, stay for around two hours and cry like a child into her lap confessing his sins.  He was an evil man and he did evil things to people but he never tried to be sexual with Claire, and he always gave her $1000 tips.  Once when he was drunk he groped her before collapsing into tears.  That was as far as he ever went with her.  That night was no exception.

            Claire was wearing a short, red Chinese Cheongsam dress and Mr. Miles Talben was sobbing into her lap, pressing the top of his head into her stomach and telling her his latest woes.  He took advantage of a very young girl.  He fired a man with four children, and called out a hit on another man who slept with his wife.  His wife, he cut off her credit cards and threatened to have her killed as well if she didn’t shape up.  Claire sat petting his balding head, saying things like: “You did what you had to do; I’m sure they’ll be all right; it wasn’t your fault,” anything to make him feel good enough to stop crying and try to be a man about life.

            Downstairs in the lobby Hollis sat on one of the benches, watching a steady trickle of men come and go.  Most of the men avoided eye contact with him.  He had gotten there ten minutes after Miles Talben and that night Mr. Talben had decided to stay with Claire for over two and a half hours.

            When Hollis arrived he saw there was an old Chinese woman behind the counter instead of the Pig.  She had streaks of gray invading her dark black hair, tied back into a tight bun.  Her round frameless glasses made her look even older.  Her lips were painted bright red which matched the color of her dress.  He walked to the counter and glanced at the lit up menu on the wall.  Number thirty-four wasn’t lit.

            “Is Number thirty-four in tonight?”  He asked the old lady.

            “Oh yeah yeah, but she busy now.  You like different girl?”

            “No, I’ll uh, wait,” Hollis said.

            ‘You wait?  No.  It might be while.  I set you up with ‘nother nice girl,” The old lady prodded.

            “No, it’s okay, I’ll wait,” he insisted, turned and sat on the bench.  For over two hours he glanced at the men coming in and studied the men coming out, in case he could tell who had been with Claire that evening.  The old lady watched him wait and thought that the girl certainly had dedicated fans.  He lit up a cigarette and the old lady started to shout at him.

            “No-no, you can’t do that here!  Go outside!  I call you if she ready.”

            Hollis slowly stood up and walked outside, leaning against the wall next to the door, watching any man who exited and remembering the morning before at work talking to a delivery man named Paulie.

            “Oh yeah, I know her real well,” Paulie had said when Hollis showed him Claire’s picture.

            I know her real well.

            Of all the people who he’d asked about her, this was the man who knew her real well.

            Paulie was a short man maybe fifteen years older than Hollis.  He had patches of hair growing all over his face and scalp and neck and peeking out from under his shirt.  His gut was the largest part of his body.  He delivered Christmas trees.  And he knew her real well.

            When Hollis didn’t say anything back, Paulie continued.  “That’s Evie.  From the Pussy Catz.  She’s got a tight little puss.”  Paulie paused.  “Is this picture old?  The girl I know is skinnier.  And her hair’s shorter.”  He squinted.  “That’s definitely her, though.”

            Hollis regained his breath.  “What is the Pussy Catz?”

            “It’s this fuck barn out in South Town Industry Area.  On, uh,” Paulie thought about it.  “At Calico and 48^th street.  You can’t miss it.  It’s open all night.  And the best part is you pick the girls you want from pictures of their pussies on the wall – nothing else.  It’s hot.  And the girls are hot.”

            “I see,” Hollis said, putting the picture away.

            “Oh,” Paulie continued, getting excited.  “But if you really want kinky there’s this place a little closer in town that –“

            “Paulie,” Hollies laughed, interrupting him.  “How many of these places do you know?”

            Paulie stopped and counted mentally.  “Maybe a dozen,” he stated.

            Paulie, the biggest scumbag oozing with sleaze.  The man with the worst smelling farts and nastiest hacks and spit.  This fucking slime knows her real well.

            After Hollis had spoken to Paulie he felt nauseous and needed to sit down.

            He felt the same way now, watching every man trail in and out of the front doors.  He finished his cigarette and returned to his seat on the bench.  As every ten minutes passed the feeling intensified.

            While upstairs and old man was drying his eyes with his personal embroidered handkerchief and, as was his custom, hugging and thanking Claire, telling her she’s beautiful and looks like his daughter and how much he misses her.  He left walking light in his footsteps.  Confessing his problems to a prostitute made him feel like a whole new man.  And it left Claire feeling like she was just a sand sculpture that the wind was blowing away.  She sat motionless on the bed, as if Mr. Miles Talben was still weeping into her lap.  She jumped when the phone rang.  Slowly she picked up the receiver from its cradle screwed into the wall.

            “Yes,” she answered monotonously.

            “There is man waiting for you,” the Asian woman said, glancing at Hollis sitting on the bench sideways through the glass.

            “Fuck,” she sighed.  “Already?”

            “He been waiting for over two hour,” the lady told her.

            It’s him, her body pulsed.

            “Is he a young man?  Tall, skinny, black glasses, with a beard and a deep voice?”

            “Oh yeah, real deep.  Not type of man who come to places like this.”

            Claire paused.  “Send him up,” she said.  “Give him the special rate.”

            “Oh?  Special rate?  He good friend?”

            Claire paused again.  “Yes,” she answered.

            “Oh yeah, I give him special rate.”

            “Wait ten minutes before you send him up?”

            “Okay,” the Asian woman said before hanging up.

            Claire returned the phone to its cradle.  She jumped off the bed and tore off the sheet, replacing it with a fresh one from the closet and rearranging the pillows.  Then she hurried down the hall to the lounge.

            Two girls were sitting at a table cutting up some coke.  They offered some to Claire when she came in.

            “Evie, girl, you want a hit?”  A tall skinny black girl with curly hair and blue eye shadow asked.

            Claire didn’t really want her nose itching around Hollis so she declined, although the rush might have helped her be less nervous.  The girls shrugged and Claire filled two glasses with bourbon; one with ice, one without.  She gulped some down and refilled the glass before returning to her room.  She set the drinks down next to the lamp, threw the dildos in the drawer and put the condom bowl in the closet.  Knowing her time was almost up she went into the hallway and checked out her reflection in the mirror to see if she looked okay.  She smoothed her hair a little and her make-up wasn’t smudged.  She wore a lot more make-up these days.  It was easy to play a character in make-up.  She went into the room, shut the door and sat in a chair, waiting.

            Hollis sat downstairs watching over two hours pass on the clock above the Chinese lady.  He thought about leaving again, knowing that if he left he would not come back.  He would leave town immediately, giving up because he had found her and there was no where to search left.  But he couldn’t leave.  Instead, he sat and waited.

            He was staring blankly at the wall in front of him when he heard steps coming down the stairs.  He didn’t move his head but watched the movement from the corner of his eye.  He saw an old man dressed in an expensive coat and hat walking slowly.  He went to the counter, returned his key and waved his hat at the Chinese madam.  Then he strolled down the hallway cheerfully with rosy pink cheeks.  Hollis did not remember seeing him come in at all.  He knew he was the man who had been with Claire.

            Miles Talben didn’t notice or pay any attention to Hollis sitting on the bench.  Hollis’ gaze followed him as he walked to the exit.  He wanted to follow the old man outside and catalogue what he drove, or even assault him if he felt brave and angry enough, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed the Chinese woman was on the phone.  He could hear her mumble but couldn’t make out any words.  When she hung up she was looking at him.  He kept still.

            Just then the front door opened.  Hollis turned his head, expecting to see the old man again for whatever reason.  Two boys walked in, giggling.  They must have both just turned the legal age.  They were both wearing sweatshirts that had fraternity Greek letters ΣΩΒ printed on them and baseball caps on their heads. They walked past Hollis and when they saw the pussy wall one of them exclaimed “No way! Awesome!” while the other one said “I told you, man.”  Within minutes they had both made their decisions and were upstairs and then the Asian woman called out to him.

            “You there!”  Once she had Hollis’ attention she beckoned him.  “Come here!”  When he approached the counter she said, “She ready now.  You get special rate.  $150 for as long as you want.”

            Hollis blinked, shrugged and put down $150.  He was given the same key from last night, the same one that old man probably had.

            “You know the way?”  She asked.

            “Yes,” Hollis replied.  “Thank you.”  He walked away and disappeared up the steps.  Once he was gone the Asian woman noticed for the first time how strong his presence was now that he had left.  She needed to sit and flopped into her chair.

            Once Hollis reached the third floor he started down the hallway.  “Hey baby, you’re fine,” a voice called out to him from a door.  It was the tall skinny black girl with curly hair and blue eye shadow.  “Next time you come, ask for me, honey.  My name’s Porsche, and you don’t need a license to ride me!”  She said, throwing him a sexy pose.

            “Okay,” Hollis said uneasily, then turned to walk to door 319.  The black girl watched him use the key and disappear into the room.

            At first Hollis didn’t see her in the room; he thought she wasn’t there.  Then he turned from the empty bed and saw her sitting behind him in the corner.  He was relieved to see her more solidly dressed.  He wanted to pull her towards him and hold her, feel her arms clasp around his torso, but the thought of all the scumbags who had held her kept him still and at a distance.

            “Hi,” she greeted.  She was curled up in the wooden chair.  She stood up and said, “I got you a drink.”  She handed him a glass of bourbon, straight up, no ice.  “I thought we’d need a drink.  At least, I do.  If you don’t want it I can drink it.”

            “I’ll drink it,” Hollis said, taking a sip.  “Do you give all your customers drinks?” He asked accusingly.

            “No,” Claire said, turning her back to him and drinking her own glass.

            Hollis inhaled and drank from his glass.  He had waited so long for this moment and he was only starting it off in a mess.  He set his glass down, took his top three of 5 layers off and tossed them onto the bed.  Claire sat back down in her wooden chair and he pulled the other out and sat facing her.  They had the entire night along in the small 8’x8’ room now.  He didn’t want to spend it hating her.  For the first time he smiled.  It was a genuine smile and she smiled in return.

            “You look different, but you look the same,” he said to her.

            “You too,” she replied.

            They sat looking at each other, thinking about the past three years, each with questions swimming around their minds.  Hollis went through the entire day after not sleeping much at night thinking about her constantly while he carried Christmas trees for customers and setting up new ones in the lot.  Claire drank herself to sleep the past night and woke up at her home confused and at a loss for herself.  In the back of her mind she wanted her old life back.

            “So, what have you been doing all this time?”  Claire asked, breaking the silence.

            Hollis put down his almost empty glass, blew out the fumes from his mouth and said, “Driving around, doing odd jobs for money, looking for you.”

            A pause.

            “Why were you looking for me?” She asked.

            Another pause.

            “Because without you I have no point or goal in life and I’m just a fucking ghost wandering this Earth.”  He answered.  Another pause.  “What were you doing?”

            The longest pause yet.

            “Killing myself a little each day.”

            Hollis wanted to ask why, but he knew that answer wouldn’t be given up so easily.  Deep down inside him, he already knew the answer.

            “Do you have a job in town?”  Claire asked.

            “Yeah, at this Christmas tree lot.”  Claire chuckled, and he grinned.  That explained the pine tree smell radiating from Hollis.  They used to make fun of travelling guys working at Christmas tree lots for money to get gas into their cars.  He continued.  “Though, it doesn’t pay as well as your job.  It takes me over two weeks plus tips to make enough cash to get into this joint.”

            It was supposed to be in a joking manner but it was followed by silence.

            Claire was watching him look at her and gulp the rest of his bourbon down.  Her glass was already empty.  She wanted to reach out and touch him, maybe even embrace him, but she knew he didn’t want that.  He wouldn’t want to touch her after he knew where she was.  She got up and pulled a pack of smokes out of her closet and lit one up.  She offered one to Hollis which he accepted and held out the flame for him.  She stood behind him smoking for a minute then sat back in her chair, ashing into her empty glass.

            Finally Hollis said, “What were you doing with that old man?”  He couldn’t help himself.  It was burning a hole in his brain.

            “Old man?”

            “The one that was here before me.”

            “I wasn’t doing anything with him.”

            “Why don’t I believe you?”  Hollis scoffed.

            “Because you have some weird issue with the truth?”  Claire offered smoothly.

            “Bullshit.  Old, fancy dressed-up men don’t come here for over two hours to do nothing.”

            Claire laughed.  “You think a man that old can even get it up?”  Hollis only kept looking at her.  “You know what he comes here to do?  He comes here and pays me like he would a therapist.  That man is so fucked in the head and he sits here ranting about the crappy shit he does in his life for two hours at a time and cries.  He cries like a baby.  Then he pays me a lot of money and leaves.  That’s what that old man comes here to do.  And he does it once, maybe twice a week.  Has been for months.”

            Hollis stared into her eyes trying to decide whether to believe her or not.

            “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Claire said, breaking the silence.

            Hollis blinked, snapped out of his trance, exhaled and changed the subject after a puase.  “Is there a toilet here?”  He asked.

            Claire stood up.  “Yeah, I’ll show you where it is.  Do you want another drink?”

            “Sure,” he said, following her out the door and to the end of the hallway.  He went into the tiny bathroom the size of a closet she showed him to and relieved himself.  There was no mirror in there so he couldn’t see the reflection of himself pale and shaking.  He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.  Claire was waiting for him holding two fresh glasses of bourbon.  He followed her back to the room where they sat down and lit new cigarettes.  Their bodies were starting to feel warm from the liquor.

            After they smoked together in silence Hollis finished his cigarette and dropped his butt into the empty glass, asking in a light manner, “Do you know a guy named Paulie?”  He blew some smoke out of his nose.

            Claire thought about it, smoking the end of her cigarette.  She shook her head.  “No,” she said.

            “He’s a short guy with a huge gut, and he’s got dark patches of hair all over his head,” Hollis said, looking at her.  “Kind of a nasal voice.”

            “Oh!” Claire said, her eyes lighting up in recognition.  “Yeah, I remember him.  He came in once, got butt naked and jerked off looking at my ass.”

            “That’s it?”

            “Well, there was another time when he jerked off watching me and another girl go at it.”

            “Oh.”

            “He’s been around here with other girls but that’s all he did with me, those two times.  You know, he’s got patches of hair like that all over his body?”

            Hollis chuckled.  “Really?”

            “Yeah,” Claire nodded.  “It’s gross.”

            “So… does that happen a lot?”  Hollis asked carefully.

            “What, that guy come in?  I dunno, I’ve only seen him the two times…”

            “No, just… guys jerking it and only looking at you.”

            “Yeah, actually, working here that happens a lot.  With me, anyway.  Some guys want to eat me out, some want me to jerk them or blow them.  More that then they want to fuck.  I guess a lot of guys are scared they won’t last long or something.  Mostly older, lonely guys come in here and jerk off, like a live magazine I guess.”

            “A fuckin’ expensive magazine.”

            “Yeah, that’s the truth.  I guess I must not be exotic enough for freaky guys.”

            Hollis sat forward with his elbows resting on his thighs.  Her answer made him feel a little more relaxed, but only by a little.  He thought that she had gotten more beautiful over the years, despite her body eating away at itself.  He wanted to have her, to be the only one who would have her.  That’s why he chased her for three years.  He would give everything up to have her again, but he felt weak because it wasn’t his choice, it was hers.  She could tell him to fuck off forever.  It would kill him, but he would.  When they met she was still a virgin, and the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.  They were nineteen.  He didn’t want other people to be touching her in ways only he’s touched her, seen her face in expressions only he’s seen before.  But mostly he didn’t want her to be touching or pleasuring other people.  He wanted her to himself.  He didn’t care if he was selfish.  He wanted to take her away from everyone and everything.  But though he had searched for three years to take her back as his own, now he was having doubts in the back of his mind because of how she sold her body to a countless number of people, and he wouldn’t know if she would be making love to him or following a pattern.  It scared him.  He knew this would plague him.

            He watched her down the rest of her drink.  She’d always been a good drinker; had been since before they met.  Suddenly he asks, “Do you have any diseases?”

            Claire chuckled and stretched her legs out.  Her toes almost touched his leg and he didn’t flinch away.  “If you get a disease you can’t get rid of no one wants to hire you.  Most of those girls end up as strippers.”

            “So you don’t have any you can’t ‘get rid of’?”

            “Nope.”

            “What have you had that you can ‘get rid of’?”

            “Crabs,” she answered.  After a short pause she added, “Pregnancy.”

            Hollis winced and looked away.  He felt an awkward tension building between them and it was all his fault.  She had always been bluntly and brutally honest.  He looked up and saw she was looking away.  He reached behind him into his jacket and pulled out his cigarette pack.  He took one out and, out of old habit, offered her one which she took.  They sat silently smoking and didn’t look at each other until their cigarettes were more than halfway gone.

            “Why did you come here?”  Claire asked.  She had turned and was looking directly into his eyes.

            He smoked some of his remaining cigarette and let all the smoke exit his body before he spoke.  “I came because I was going to find you and get you, no matter where you were and what you were doing.  You’re the only thing that’s been right or fitting in my life.  When you left you took my best parts with you.”  She only looked at him through the smoke rising from her mouth with her head tilted back so he continued.  “I can’t make you come with me. I can’t make you do anything.  I can only ask you if you would come with me.”  Silence.  He dropped his cigarette butt into the ash-filled glass without taking his eyes from her.  “Will you come with me, Claire?”

            Claire sighed and dropped her butt in the glass, looking down at the floor.  “I don’t know,” she said.

            “When will you know?”

            “I don’t know.”  She looked up at him.  His face was filled with raw emotion and hers felt numb.

            “I can give you time to think about it.”  He paused.  “Do you get days off?”

            “I get tomorrow off,” Claire said, “and Sundays.  The other days I work from six PM ‘till three.”

            “Meet me tomorrow,” he said eagerly.  If he could, he wanted to get her out of there as quickly as possible.  “We could eat somewhere.”

            Food wasn’t exactly something that motivated Claire very much anymore, but she could already feel the anxiety of being separated from Hollis again, even after all this time.  Seeing him again made her remember herself from where she came from, something she tried not to think about too much.  “Where?”  She asked.

            Hollis figured he should make some money on the lot tomorrow so he said, “How about at this diner by my job, around six?

            She looked at him without moving or blinking and said, “Okay.  Where is this place?”

            “It’s at Euclid and 26^th street.  Do you know where that is?”

            Claire blinked.  “Yes,” she whispered, thinking that he’d been working two blocks from where she lived the whole time he was in town and she had no idea.  Not even an inkling of a feeling of his presence.

            It was well past midnight.  Hollis was starting to feel tired, though he knew he would not sleep well, if at all that night.  He must have been in her room for a few hours.  They spent most of the night silent, looking at each other.  She looked at him almost like she didn’t believe he was there.  He works at eight in the morning but he didn’t want to leave.  He wanted to fall to his knees before her and beg her to go with him.  He wanted to feel her fingers dig into his body and smell her skin.  He didn’t want to think about how many other men she’s dug her fingers into but he couldn’t help it.  He couldn’t stay much longer without the thought really start to bother him.

            “You’ll meet me tomorrow, for sure then?”  Hollis asked.

            “Yeah…” she said.  “Are you leaving?”

            Hollis stood up.  “Yeah.  Have to wake up early to work.”

            “You’re going to sleep in your truck?”  Claire stood as Hollis put on his layers.

            “Yep,” he said.

            “Where?”

            “The owner lets me park in his parking lot.”

            “Oh,” Claire said.  “You can crash at my place if you want.”  She couldn’t help herself; she had to offer.

            Hollis stopped his motion for a moment and looked at her.  Then he shook his head and put on his top jacket.  “No.  I like being able to wake up at work.”

            Claire nodded once and watched him.  He was almost gone.  There were so many things she wanted to say to him.  Don’t go was one.  Can you give me a ride home was another.  If he did that he might be persuaded to stay, seeing how close the lot is to her apartment.  She wanted to jump into his arms and hold on tight.  She turned away and she knew then, for sure, that she would agree to go with him tomorrow.

            She turned back to him and he was putting his ball cap on.  She smiled.  “Your hair’s gotten so long,” she said.

            “Yeah, I haven’t cut it for a long time.”  He put his beanie on over his cap, looking at her.  “It hasn’t really been important enough to think about.”  Claire only nodded.  They stood looking at each other for several minutes which passed like seconds for them.  Finally Hollis said, “I gotta go.”

            Claire watched him turn and when his hand touched the doorknob she called out, “Hollis!”

            At the sound of her saying his name he paused and turned.

            Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go she wanted to say.  All she could manage was, “…bye.”

            He nodded and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  It was not a question.  She nodded and he said, “Bye, Claire.”  Then he went out the door and was gone.  They went through the entire night without touching each other once – not even by accident.

            Claire listened to the door click shut and she stood watching it, not moving.  After a long moment she rushed to the door and touched it, then turned slightly and leaned her body on it.  She stood with the door holding up her entire body.  She pushed herself up slowly with her arms, opened the door and walked down the hall to the lounge, did a few lines and drank almost a bottle of bourbon.  While she was getting completely ripped she was taking hits with Porsche, a good friend of hers.

            “Why are you getting so tore up tonight?”  Porsche asked.  When Claire didn’t answer Porsche continued.  “Does it have to do with that guy who saw you tonight?”  When Claire still didn’t answer she continued.  “He didn’t come here to fuck you, did he?”

            “No,” Claire said, taking a shot of bourbon and breathing fire.  She was starting to eye the tequila at the small bar in front of them.

            Porsche matched her shot.  “What did he want?”  She was lining up a duo in front of them, then bent over and snorted one, handing a short glass tube to Claire.  Claire didn’t say anything and snorted the second, coming up for air.

            “He wants me to leave with him,” she said finally.  She poured them both new shots, spilling some liquor on the counter.

            Porsche looked at her.  “Are you gonna go?”

            Claire wasn’t ready to be definite yet.  “Probably.”

            Porsche whistled and said, “Girl, I would go with that man too if he came for me.”  She drank her shot in one swift movement.  “You gonna buy out of your contract?”

            “Have to.”  Claire drank her shot and burped.  She lit a cigarette, the last one in her pack.

            “Then what are you gonna do?

            Claire shrugged.  “Sell my stuff, I guess.”

            Porsche sighed.  “I’m gonna miss you, Evie.  No one else here knows who John Coltrane or Chuck D are.”  She leaned over and gave Claire a big kiss on the lips and hugged her.  “And I get first dibs on your clothes.”  She laughed.

            Claire laughed too.  Laughing felt good, she could feel it even above all the booze and drugs.  “You got it,” she said.

            Later on Claire was still drinking long after Porsche left for some work.  The sun had come up when she drank herself to sleep on the couch.  Some girls tried to wake her but couldn’t, so they draped a blanket over her.

Part 1.3

She woke up when the natural light was dimming.  It dims early in the winter.  She figured it was around 3:30PM.  A girl named Holly was sitting in a chair not too far from her reading a magazine and turned to her when she sat up.  Holly was a younger girl born half-Japanese and tried to keep the Geisha look.

            “Hey,” Holly said, “how do you feel?”

            Claire rubbed one of her eyes and said, “Like dirty shit.”

            “Rough night, huh?”

            “Is it that obvious?”  Claire asked.

            “Not until I saw the empty bottles of alcohol and the twenty cigarette butts on the table,” Holly said.  She had gotten up and was handing Claire a cup of coffee.

            Halfway through her coffee Claire got up and called a cab from the lounge phone.  Holly was looking at her so Claire said, “I have to go home.  And take a shower,” like she had to explain herself to Holly without giving anything away.

            “Is today your off day?”  Holly asked.

            “Yeah.”  Claire gulped down the rest of her coffee and gathered up her things.

            “Do you want a little pick me up?”  Holly offered.

            Claire did.  She really did.  She wanted anything to help her feel better, to feel more composed.  “No thanks,” she surprised herself by saying.  “See ya.”  She went back down to her room, got dressed and hurried down to the back door to meet her cab.

            On the way to her apartment the cab drove by the Christmas tree lot that Hollis said he worked at.  Her heart rate sped up and she tried to find him amongst the chaos but failed to see him.  Being about two and a half weeks before Christmas the lot was pretty busy, even for a Thursday.

            She paid and tipped the driver.  Walking down the shaded path to her small studio apartment her head felt like concrete, her legs felt like rubber and her mouth tasted like charcoal.  Her apartment was the last one in a row of single-story apartments.  If you went past her apartment and around the building you’d find the dumpster and parking lot.  Claire didn’t drive so she rented out her parking space to a neighbor.

            In her apartment she had a pull-out sofa in dark blue, a small square coffee table, a small TV on a small TV stand with wheels and a DVD player.  She owned about twelve DVDs.  They gathered dust.  Beyond the front room was a small kitchen and a small bathroom with a large closet between,  In the kitchen she had a small square wooden table with two matching chairs and her only clock, one of those cat clocks with a moving tail and eyes that someone gave to her not too long ago.  Her closet was filled with nice dresses, fancy dresses, tight dresses, revealing dresses, exciting undergarments, thin clothes, and in the back some jeans, t-shirts and sweaters.

            Claire stood in the middle of the apartment, dropped what she was carrying and the clothes she was wearing and went into the bathroom, taking a hot shower until the hot water was gone.  When she got out she dried off, put away the things she left on the floor and pulled a pair of jeans out from the back of her closet.  After putting on the jeans she pulled a small cotton shirt and a white thermal shirt with little blue snowflakes all over it from the back of her closet.  She didn’t put on any panties because she hadn’t been wearing underwear for months.

            The cat said she had an hour before she had to meet Hollis.  She turned on the electric oven to dry her hair over so she wouldn’t have to be out in the cold with wet hair.  Twenty minutes later she was wearing a knit sweater under a hooded jean jacket with a faux fur liner and was tying her shoes.  It took her only five minutes to walk to Euclid and 26^th.

            She looked around the intersection and crossed the street to the tree lot.  She stood in the sawdust-covered parking lot and didn’t want to go into the tree lot so she found Hollis’ truck in the far corner and sat on the hood, watching for him.  Looking around she saw a fair amount of customer cars and dads holding kids’ hands.  There was a big motorhome, most likely the lot’s owner’s, and a small fenced area with three dogs in it.  Bright lights  lit the lot up like a carnival and reflected off shiny banners and flags.

            After a short while her ass was getting cold from the truck’s hood and she shifted.  She remembered sitting on that hood many times and making out with Hollis in the past.  She watched the people leaving the lot, some carrying their own trees, some using the help.  Finally Hollis came out carrying a huge tree for an older couple.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone on his truck and turned to look and stopped in his tracks.  He smirked and caught up with the couple, tying the tree to the roof of their small economy car.  They gave him a generous tip and thanked him.  He thanked them in return, walked away, looked over at Claire before returning to the lot.  She figured he was going back to work more but momentarily he came out again, alone.

            Walking towards her she saw his amused smirk across his lips.  This was because he saw her sitting on his hood like he’d seen her numerous times in their past.

            “Hey,” he said, stopping in front of her.

            “Hey,” she said back.  In the past her arms would have gone around his thick shoulders and he would find a place between her knees.  Now they just looked at each other motionless.

            “Now you look more like how I remember you looking,” he said, commenting on her naked face and hood over her head.

            She looked down at herself and chuckled.  “Some things never change, I guess,” she said, each word she spoke went looming through her hangover.

            “Yeah,” he replied, stuffing his bare hands in his pockets.  “Well, I just got paid.  You wanna go?”

            “Sure,” she said, jumping down from the hood.  “Do you get paid daily?”

            “Yeah,” he repeated as they walked from the parking lot across the street to the diner.  Even though they increased the distance between themselves and the Christmas tree lot Claire kept smelling the pine trees on Hollis.  He held the door open for her and the two of them found a seat in the corner booth by the window.  She sat facing the wall and he sat with his back to the wall facing the diner.  He looked over the crowd, like he used to, to see if anyone there was paying attention to them.  They weren’t.  He sat back into his booth, relaxing.  Looking at Claire, her eyes told him she was hung over.  He knew this event wasn’t easy on either of them.

            The diner was a long skinny room with an eating bar in between the booths and the kitchen.  At the ends of the tables and at every other station at the bar were quarter jukeboxes with a barrage of different songs.

            An old waitress in a pink checkered uniform approached them, handing them menus.  She was an aging beauty, probably an old showgirl who ran into some back luck and bad men throughout her career and ending up as a diner waitress, supporting her grandchildren at home while her own children ran around carefree and irresponsible.  Her face looked tired and her body looked stretched and deflated.  They both ordered coffee.  Claire glanced over the menu for fifteen seconds.  She did not want to eat.  She ordered the soup of the day.  Hollis ordered a roast beef pot pie, a salad and fried mozzarella sticks.  Once the waitress was gone they sat drinking their coffee.  They both drank it black.  Some things never change.

            “How long have you been working there?” Hollis asked.

            “Nine months,” Claire answered, stacking single serving cups of coffee creamer on each other.  She knew what was coming.  She wasn’t looking at him.  Playing from the jukebox they heard a song sung by Adam Duritz and the Counting Crows singing the lyrics Don't it always seem to go/That you don't know what you've got ‘till it's gone/They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.  Claire thought it was ironic to hear, since the whole city where they were was pretty much one giant parking lot.  Hollis payed more attention to the beginning of the lyric.  You hear it so many times, but it doesn’t mean anything until you lose something important to you.

            Hollis kept his eyes on her intently.  “You have a year contract?”  He didn’t want to waste any time.  He wanted to get her out of there as fast a he could.

            Claire shook her head, keeping her focus on the coffee creamers.  “Six month.”

            “So you’ve renewed.”

            “Yep.”  She stacked too many creamers and they tumbled onto the table.

            “What did you do before that?”  Hollis wanted to know.

            “I worked in a hotel downtown.”  She began stacking the creamers into a wall.

            “As what?”

            “A personal escort.”  She looked up at him slowly.

            “Which hotel?”

            “The Grande Palace.”  They were looking into each other’s eyes.  She knew his next question so she said, “I was there for six months.”  Claire drank some of her coffee and the waitress brought their food and set it on the table.  They thanked her and then returned their gazes to each other.

            Hollis didn’t feel too affected by this information.  She seemed comfortable in her life, somehow.  He wanted to know and he was prepared to hear it, no matter how dirty or graphic it was.  He glanced down at his food and remembered how he hadn’t eaten since the day before so he picked up a fork and started to dig in, thinking about how high the numbers would be over a year and three months.  Over 400 nights.  Over 800 men, he averaged, and she didn’t mean crap to any of them.

            Claire picked up her spoon and stirred it around in her soup.  It was some kind of meatball soup, almost like a stew.  She drank some of the broth and looked up at Hollis, watching him eat.  He was handling himself well, she thought.  She was afraid he would be disgusted with what she’s done with herself these past years.  He was acting like it didn’t bother him much.

            He glanced up at her and said, “that hotel’s pretty high end there, huh?”

            “Yeah, it was too high-profile for me.”

            Hollis understood everything.  “Ah,” he said.  “So that’s why you’re at a place where the only public identification of you is a picture of your poon.”

            “Yeah,” Claire said, picking up a meatball with her spoon and dropping it back in the soup.  “What have you been doing?”

            “Going around, never staying anywhere for more than a few months.  Doing yard work and repairs on houses and cars for old people, any work I can find.  I’d ask around for you.  Sometimes I’d get lucky and get a lead,” Hollis said, picking up a fried mozzarella stick and eating half of it in one bite.

            “How do you ask about me?”

            “I showed them a picture and ask if they’d seen you.”

            “What picture?”

            Hollis left his fork on his plate and reached into his back pocket for his wallet.  From it he pulled a worn photo, frayed and torn on the edges and folded in half.  He handed it across the table to her and on it she saw a picture of herself maybe five years before sitting on a friend’s couch.  She was wearing loose, faded black jeans with holes up along the legs and a skin tight dark red shirt that wasn’t long enough to reach the top of her jeans, her hair long and sleek down her back, kind of leaning back on the arm rest with her body stretching across the couch into the fold.  She was looking next to her with a smirk on her face.  Claire unfolded the photo and saw Hollis sitting next to her wearing blue jeans and a long sleeved black shirt showing the label of a local craft brewery, upright with his arms stretched over the top of the couch and her legs dangling across his.  He was looking at her with the same smirk on his face that she had on hers.  Their faces were almost mirrors of each other.  This was the only photo they had ever had in a frame.

            She sat staring at it for a moment before folding it back and handing it to him.  He returned it to his wallet and put it away, continuing to eat.  She closed her eyes quickly, thinking about their past and what fun they had together ever since they met.  It angered her that they had to be apart for so long.  She opened her eyes and looked at him.  He was eating, halfway done with his food.

            “Where all have you been, looking for me?”  She asked, finding her voice.

            “After you left I talked to your friend and she told me you went to the bus station.  There I found you went north to Portland.  I went there and I talked to a guy at the bus station, then went to a bar where I found out you’d left already.  Some guy said he’d seen you in a small town to the north, just across the Washington state line, so I went there but you weren’t there.  I followed word of you east into Idaho and then south around Nevada.  It took three years, but I found you.”  He looked at her and smiled.

            He was right behind me the entire time, she thought, staring at his lips behind his beard.  She diverted her gaze to her soup and ate a carrot from it.

            The waitress came by, refilled their coffee cups and asked if they wanted anything else.  Hollis glanced at Claire’s uneaten soup and said no.  The waitress left their check on the table and told them to pay at the counter when they were ready and left them alone.  She hobbled away on sore feet to clean up some water a little kid threw on the floor.

            Hollis finished up the remainder of his food and Claire drank another spoonful of broth and tried a small cut of meatball.  She was starting to feel a little better.  She picked at her soup some more and then set her spoon down, drinking some coffee.

            “You done?”  Hollis asked.

            “Yeah,” she replied.  “You want it?”

            “Nah, I’m full.”  Hollis gulped down the rest of his coffee.  “You wanna go?”

            “Go where?”

            Hollis shrugged.  “Somewhere we can talk.”

            “Alright.”  Claire got up and together with Hollis walked to the counter where Hollis paid the cashier with his earnings from the lot.  He led her outside and they stood at the sidewalk for a moment.

            “We could go back to my truck, go to a bar, or somewhere else that’s warm,” he suggested.

            “Fuck bars,” she said, having flashbacks of bad memories.  “I have my own at my place.”

            “Really?”  Hollis asked.

            “Well, it’s really just a cabinet full of booze.”

            “Ah,” he chuckled.  “Where do you live?”

            “Over there,” she gestured down Euclid.  “Just off 28^th street.”

            Hollis glanced down the street pensively.  “You wanna go there?”  He asked.  He was surprised to find out she lived so close to his place of work.  His job decision made all kinds of sense right then.

            Claire shrugged.  “It’s better than some public place.”

            Hollis nodded.  In public he always felt exposed, but the exposure made him feel safe.  Going to Claire’s home scared him.

            “Lead on,” he said.  He followed her to the grand destination of his journey in silence.  At least his stomach was full.  That was more than he could say for her.  He followed her down the street, around a corner and into a gated path between one-story blue-gray stucco painted buildings.  His legs felt like rubber; he couldn’t feel them hit the pavement.  She walked up to the last door.  He saw a light on inside, just inside the window with a white shade drawn down.  When he entered he saw the light came from a floor lamp with a white lamp shade next to the window.  He shut the door behind him and stood in the room with his hands stuffed in his pockets.  The room was plain and neat.  To him it looked like she didn’t spend much time there.

            “Where do you sleep?”  He asked.

            “The sofa pulls out,” Claire told him.  She was taking her jacket and sweaters off and putting them away in the closet, something he never used to see her do.  In the past she would just toss her jackets across the back of a chair or couch.  “I usually don’t pull it out, thought.”  Hollis watched her.  In her old style of clothes she looked so thin.  Her breasts were small, though still present.  He could see their movement as she moved.  He looked down to the floor asking himself the number of other men who’ve seen her naked breasts.  The thought almost violated him.

            “What do you want to drink?” She asked.  She was looking at him from the kitchen. 

He felt like time was going by in slow motion.  He looked up, shrugged and said, “You got any beer?”  He took off his top layers and tossed them on the couch.  He watched her take two 22oz bottles from her refrigerator and open them.  Then she grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a high cabinet, poured a shot and drank it.  This helped her feel better, helped her head settle.  Hollis walked over to her.  “What are we having here?”  He asked.  She poured another shot, picked it up and held it out to him, which he drank without taking his eyes from her.  He placed it in her hand and his fingertips grazed her palm.  They froze.  She took her hand away and handed him a beer.  He drank it, still watching her.

Claire took her own beer and sat down at the kitchen table.  She didn’t want to get too comfortable so she avoided the couch.  Hollis sat across from her.

“Can you get out of your contract?”  He asked, not wanting to waste more time.

            “Yeah,” she said and drank from her beer.  “When I sign I have to make a minimum profit by the end of the contract.  If I don’t make the minimum, or want to break the contract I have to pay the difference if I’m under.”

            “How much will you owe?”

            Claire shrugged.  “Some thousands of dollars.”

            “Oh,” Hollis said.  He started to think about what he could so to make thousands of dollars fast for her.  He could sell his truck and they could take a bus somewhere.  He would give up his truck for her, the first most valuable thing he’d ever bought and the truck which has been more reliable than sunshine.  He would sell it to be with her.

            “I have the money,” she said.  Hollis blinked and drank his beer, watching her stand up and pull a round cookie tin out of a low cabinet.  She set it in front of Hollis and pulled the lid off.  Hollis tipped his bottle of beer and drank half of what was left as he looked at all the bundles of bills crammed in the tin.  Never before has he seen so much cash in one place.

            He looked up at her and she was gazing at the cash with a sadness on her face, like looking at it reminded her of her years of empty pain she’d gone through.  She knew she was saving it for something.  She looked back at Hollis and saw her reason.

            “Are you coming with me?”  Hollis asked quietly, not caring about the money.

            Claire put the lid back over the cash.  “Yes,” she said.

            He was staring at her, relieved.  He left his empty bottle on the table and jumped to his feet, standing before her.  Without hesitating he threw his arms around her and held her against him.  Her arms crawled up around his neck and she pressed her body to his, eliminating any space between their bodies.  They both savored the contact.  She was smelling him through his shirt when he let go of her and stepped back.  He felt awkward and embarrassed all of a sudden.  They looked into each other’s faces and smiled.

            “Good,” Hollis said.  “When can you leave?”

            “I dunno, in a couple of days I guess.”

            Hollis nodded and sat back down.  He didn’t want to wait a couple of days.  He looked at his empty bottle and as she put the tin of money back into the cabinet he said “I know it’s your choice to come with me, and in choosing so means that you’re choosing to give up this whoring shit.”

            “I know,” she said, sitting back down.

            “Did you enjoy it?”

            She picked up her beer and downed the rest, looking at him over the bottle.  She set the empty bottle on the table and said, “I haven’t felt anything for years.”

            Hollis looked at her, understanding her.  Up until he saw her two nights before he had felt very little himself.  “What do you have to do before you can leave?”  He asked.

            “I need to talk to my bosses.  That Chinese lady owns the place with her husband and his brother.  They own a couple of other places around town.  And I need to talk to my landlord and sell all my shit here.  Then I can go.”  She looked at his eyes.  “Where are you planning on going when we leave?”

            Hollis shrugged.  “Dunno.”  He paused.  “We’ll find out when we get there.”

            Claire stood up and poured another shot of whiskey.  She drank it and Hollis went beside her, pouring his own shot.  “When can you speak to your boss?”  He asked, knocking it back.

            She was studying the beard on his face.  It was interlaced with light blonde, dark blond and even some auburn.  It made his face look smooth, kind of like water.  “I could go tonight, or tomorrow.”

            “If you want to go tonight, I can take you there,” he said.  “I’ll wait for you to get out, and then bring you back here.”

            Claire poured herself another shot, staring at it.  “Will you stay with me tonight?”  She asked slowly.

            “Yes,” he said.  He picked up her shot and threw it back swiftly.  She turned to look at him and saw him looking at her from the side of his eyes.

            They decided that it would be best if they left soon.  Hollis didn’t want to drive too drunk.  She let him take a shower and she sat at the kitchen table laying her head in her arms the entire time he was in the bathroom.  When she heard him come out she raised her head and lit a smoke.

            “Thanks,” he said, coming into the kitchen.  “I haven’t showered for a few days.”

            “So that’s what that smell was,” Claire teased.  She was disappointed to see he was fully dressed.

            He sat down across from her and lit a cigarette for himself.  He felt good.  He was clean, he had a good buzz, he had Claire and she was quitting her life of degradation.  He was going to see that she was going to regain herself.  He smiled at her and she smiled back.  They finished their smokes and got ready to go.  Claire was pulling some money out of the tin when he asked, “How much money do you have in there?”  He put his hats on his head.

            “Um,” Claire started.  She hadn’t counted for a while so she rounded up. “$85,000, maybe?”

            Hollis whistled.  “Sitting on quite a nest egg, are you?”

            Claire shrugged.  “Just saved it.  For now, I guess.”  She looked up at him from where she was squatting on the floor.  “I’ve got another tin with more.”  She had packed $20,000 into a small purse and stuffed it under her jacket between her arm and torso.

            Hollis was kind of shocked over how much money she had.  She must have been good at what she was doing.  She was always good with him.  He hid his shock well.  The money was dirty, but that would make it a little more satisfying to spend it on their new beginnings.  At least, that’s what he told himself.

            “Let’s get this over with,” Claire said.  Hollis followed her out the door and they walked to the lot where Hollis’ truck was parked.  The Christmas tree lot was closed but he could still drive in and out.

            Hollis unlocked Claire’s door first and opened it for her, watching her slide into the passenger seat.  Sitting there her mind was flooded with memories of all the time she’d been in the same exact seat before.  It hadn’t changed much, just looking older from a little wear and tear.  Hollis climbed into the other side and started the engine.  They sat letting the engine warm up as they lit some cigarettes.

            He drove her to the Pussy Catz.  He parked in the back where she told him to.  He watched her go inside the back door in the reflection of his mirror, lighting another cigarette as he waited.

            Claire knocked on the back door.  A window slot opened and dark eyes glared out at her for a minute.

            “Hey, it’s me, Evie,” she said.

            The door opened.  A large Samoan man was looking at her.  “Shit, didn’t recognize you.”

            “Sorry.  Is the old lady in?”

            “Yeah, she’s in,” he grunted.  Claire started down the hall to the office and he watched her.  She was wearing no make-up, she was dressed modestly, her hair wasn’t all fixed up with hairspray.  He could tell she had a mission.  Girls who worked there never looked like she did.

            Claire knocked on the door next to a tall, green, large-leafed plant in a woven basket.  “Come in!”  was shouted through the door.  Claire opened the door and closed it behind her.  “Ah, Evie!  What you doing here today?”  The old lady said with a smile.

            “Hi, Lady Ann.  I came to talk to you,” Claire said.

            “Have a seat,” Lady Ann said.  She watched Claire sit, took off her glasses and said “Are you okay?  You look different.”

            “I’m doing pretty good,” Claire admitted.  “I, uh… I came here to buy out of my contract tonight.”  Straight and to the point, one thing Claire’s always been known for.

            “Oh?”  Ann said, twirling her chair around slightly.  “Let me get your file.”  She got up and thumbed through a file cabinet, pulled out a file then sat back down and typed into her computer.  She folded her hands on the desk in front of her.  “Why do you want to leave?  Does it have to do with that man from last night?”  Ann had not forgotten about that man.  In fact he’s been on her mind ever since.

Claire hesitated before saying, “Yes.”

            Lady Ann looked over the paper-work and computer screen.  “Look like you have three month left on contract but are more than halfway to your $35,000 minimum.”

            “How much?”  Claire asked.

            The old lady did some calculations on a calculator sitting on her desk and looked up at Claire.  “Evie,” she said.  “You a good girl.  You bring in lotta money and have regular customers.  Everyone like you.  Why you wanna go?  You have it good here.  Who is that man?”

            Claire couldn’t find the words to explain.

            Lady Ann continued.  “You know you girls are all like daughters to me.  I care about you.  I don’t want to see you get hurt in bad situation.  You can tell me anything, you know.”

            Claire looked at the old lady and thought it was ironic because she was leaving the bad, hurtful situation for a life she knew would be healing for her.  “He’s from my past,” she said, “he’s been looking for me for a long time.”

            “And you going with him?”

            “Yes, as soon as possible.”

            The old lady sighed.  Looking down at the calculator she said, “You owe $13,250.”  I’ll just round it down to $13,000.”  Looking up at Claire she said, “I wish I didn’t have to take it, but it is business, you know.”

            “Yes, Lady Ann, I know.”  Claire pulled the purse out from her jacket and counted $13,000 in hundred dollar bills.  She pushed it across the desk to the old lady who picked it up and counted it.  She entered something into the computer, took a long red stamp from a drawer, stamped the carbon contract and looked up at Claire.  Then she got up and scurried around the desk and gave Claire a hug.  Claire hugged her back.

            “If you ever need anything, you call, okay?”  Lady Ann said to her.

            “Okay, thank you,” Claire said.  They broke apart.  Claire looked at the old lady who had tears in her eyes.  “I’ll be okay, Ann.”

            “I know you will,” Ann said.

            Claire stood up and returned the purse to her armpit.  She hugged the old lady again and said, “Goodbye.”

            “Take care of yourself, and that young man.  And be happy,” the old lady wished on Claire, who nodded her head, turned and went through the door.       

            Shutting the door behind her, Claire hurried up the stairs to the third floor lounge, relieved it was empty.  The girls weren’t used to seeing people dressed like her around there.  Quickly she found a blank piece of paper and left a note for Porsche, telling her to come to her place tomorrow morning if she wanted any of her things, and to tell anyone else who would be interested.  She pinned it on a bulletin board and left before she was there long enough to be seen.  She hurried downstairs to the back door.  The Samoan bodyguard was standing next to the door.  He was looking at her.  She stopped in front of him and held out her hand.

            “Goodbye, Samuel,” she said.

            He shook her hand and said, “Goodbye, Miss Evie.  Good luck.”

            She smiled at her opened the door for her.  She left the building for the last time.

            Claire got back to Hollis’ truck and got in.  He was reclined, leaning his head back with his third cigarette coming to an end and sticking up from his mouth.  He was watching the mirrored reflection, waiting for her to come out, and watching her come towards him.

            “How did it go?” He asked, taking the cigarette from his mouth and sitting up.

            She wanted to lean over and kiss him.  Instead she just told him, “I’m out.”

            “How much did you owe?”

            “Thirteen grand.  It’s not bad.”

            “I guess,” Hollis said.  He blew out smoke and flicked his butt out the window.  Claire grabbed the pack from the dashboard and lit herself a cigarette.  Hollis started the truck, backed out of the parking lot and drove away.  Claire didn’t look behind them.  She smoked while she watched the movement of Hollis’ body as he drove and shifted the vehicle out of the corner of her eye.

            When they arrived at Claire’s apartment complex Hollis parked outside on the street.  She wasn’t even halfway finished with her cigarette.  She was thinking about how she didn’t have to go back to work tomorrow, or ever, and be touched by men that no woman is interested in dating or hyper-active college boys.  She rolled up the window all the way, got out of the truck, locked and shut the door.  She was followed by Hollis.  It was dark outside, the only light came from apartment porches.  It wasn’t very late.  The night was beginning to get cloudy and cold, like it was getting ready to snow.  He followed her to her room and shut the door behind them.

            Claire sighed, standing in the middle of the room.  Hollis wanted to go to her but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He was scared.  She turned to him; he was still by the door with his hands stuffed into his pockets.  She looked refreshed to him.  She turned away.  He watched her walk to the kitchen and drink straight out of the bourbon bottle they had left on the counter earlier.  She gulped it down with a grunt.  She looked over at Hollis, wondering why he did this to her.  Seeing him again made her forget the pain from the years and feel the feelings she had buried and tried to forget when she left him.  She could just melt at the sight of him.  She picked up the bourbon bottle and carried it by the neck to the couch where she sat down.  She was still dressed in her jacket and outer layers.  Hollis remained by the door, watching her silently.  He felt timid around her, almost like he was a stranger who didn’t belong.  She motioned for him to sit by her.  He took off his jackets and sat down.

            She offered him the bottle which he accepted and drank, then took off her jacket and hung it over the arm rest.  They were watching each other.  He put the bottle down and rested it on his thigh.  Claire plucked it from his hand and took a swig.  She fell back into the couch gazing at his face.  Her hand rose up to his face and her fingers ran through his beard.  This was the first time since he had found her that she made a move to touch him.  He let her.  The hair on his face felt coarse and her fingers almost tugged their way down.  Then she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling it away from his head and the matted shape his hat gave it.  He didn’t flinch away at her touch and gave her a look that was almost a smile.

            Claire took her hand away.  “Your beard is nice.”

            Hollis chuckled a little and raised his hand up to his beard, scratching it.  “Yeah,” he said, “it’s easy this way.”

            Claire sighed again and drank from the bottle.  She wondered why they went through years of hell.  No matter what happened between them shouldn’t have caused this.  Hell, it should never have happened.  She looked away from him and then looked right back to him.

            “Hollis,” she said.  He looked into her eyes, waiting for her to continue.  “I’m glad you showed up.”

            “Were you waiting for me?”  He asked.

            “No,” she said.  “I was waiting,” she paused.  “I was waiting to die."

            Hollis sighed and dropped his eyes.  “I’m sorry,” he said with a deep, raspy voice.

            Claire’s eyes left him and trailed along the ceiling.  “No… no, no,” she said slowly.  Her hand fell on his arm.  She could hear him breathing and it sounded like he was hurting.

            He picked the bottle out of her hand and downed some bourbon, not looking at her.  He wanted to hold her in his arms but he was afraid to touch her.  It was too soon.  He wanted to take her away that night.  Fuck all the rest of this shit.  Who cares if they left all her stuff in an abandoned apartment.  It probably wasn’t even in her real name, it would be under this Evie.  He drank some more whiskey then gave the remainder to Claire, which she gulped down immediately.  He looked at her almost sunken into the couch.  It was amazing that she was finally sitting in front of him, and at arm’s length.

            Hollis sat staring at her in appreciation with almost a blank look on his face.  It made her uncomfortable.  She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, if he was happy or upset.  Suddenly she stood up with the empty bottle, went into the kitchen and threw it away.  She opened up her liquor cabinet and looked over all the bottles, trying to decide what was next.  More bourbon?  Scotch?  Vodka?  Tequila or Rum?  She even had an old bottle of gin.  She lit a cigarette as she tried to decide.

            Hollis came up behind her silently.  “Claire,” he said, startling her and making her jump.  He didn’t hear him approach her.  “Leave with me tonight.”

            Claire turned around, standing with her hands grasping the counter behind her, her cigarette clenched between her fingers smoking away, her knuckles white.  She was pressed between the counter and Hollis.  She didn’t know how she could say no to him.  She felt the warm bourbon flowing in her blood.  She was feeling the best she had all day.  She stared into his eyes and their faces locked on to each other, slowly moving towards each other.  Then they kissed.  Claire closed her eyes.  Her ash fell to the floor by itself.  Too quickly they broke apart.  Claire opened her eyes and saw Hollis’ hands hovering in front of her.  Her own hands were still gripping the counter.  He was staring into her eyes.  She could only imagine what was going on in his head.  Her own mind wanted more.  He dropped his hands.  Neither of them moved.  Neither of them had initiated the kiss; it just happened.

            Some ash fell onto Claire’s fingers.  She looked down at her hand, away from Hollis.  Her cigarette had smoked itself almost all the way to the end.  She had no idea they were standing there for so long.  As she moved to set the butt into an ashtray on the counter, Hollis turned away slightly.  She looked back at him. 

“Let’s go, then,” she said.

            Hollis looked to her and nodded.  “Yes,” he said, “let’s go.”

            “Let me just collect some things,” she said.

            He stepped out of her way.  “Get whatever you like.”

            Claire turned to look at the liquor cabinet.  “Do you want those?”  She asked.

            Hollis shrugged.  “Why not?”

            Claire pulled some paper bags out from a different cabinet and handed them to Hollis.  He took them and she walked out of the kitchen.  She opened her closet and pulled out a duffel bag, filling it with her jeans, skirts, shirts and sweaters from the back of her closet, underwear, all of her socks, what few casual shoes she had and a small box she kept behind everything else.  It was the kind of small, thin box you’d get at a department store.  Then she went into the bathroom and put her toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, feminine products and shampoo into her duffel bag.  She also put the rest of her birth control pills in her bag.  She had about two months worth left.  She decided to keep taking them.  She thought about taking her favorite pieces of clothing she had, but decided not too.  She didn’t want to bring a piece of this old life along into the rest of her new one.

            She carried her full duffel bag into the main room and set it on the couch.  She walked into the kitchen and saw that Hollis had put every bottle of alcohol, including beer, into some bags.  That was pretty much the entire inventory of her kitchen.  She bent down and pulled out the cookie tins of money from the cabinet.  She knew she had at least $100,000 in cash in those tins, probably more.  She didn’t want to think about how she got that much money.

            “That’s it,” she said.

            “You don’t want anything else?”  He asked.

            She shook her head, thinking about the clothes she was leaving behind.  “No.  Do you?”

            “No.”

            “Well,” she said, exhaling, “let’s go then,” she repeated.

            First they took all the sacks of booze to Hollis’ truck and put it in the back cab, next to Hollis’ toolbox.  They went back and got Claire’s duffel bag and the money.

            “Leave the door unlocked,” Claire told him, thinking about the note she left for the girls.  They put their jackets on and Claire left her key on the counter.  They turned off the lights and left without locking the door.  The money tins went into the cab with them and her duffel bag joined the booze in the back.  It was midnight.  Hollis knew leaving at that moment wasn’t the smartest thing to do, considering they’d both been drinking and he figured they were going to get tired soon, but it felt right leaving right then.  There was no turning back.  Hollis wanted to get her out of there so he drove to the west, into their native state of California towards the mountains.