Craved (Twisted Book 2) Page 11

  He sniffs more and orders, irritated, ‘Now suck me and I’ll come on your tits.’

  I slip down onto my knees and start blowing his half-dead member, pretending to be as enthusiastic as if it was hard as rock.

  The noise of glass breaking behind the entry door makes him stiffen.

  ‘Shhh.’ He stops me, putting his hands on my shoulders. I glance up at him. He’s pale with fear.

  More cracking sounds, as if someone is walking on the broken glass.

  He grabs my shoulders, breathing heavily, lifts me onto my feet and hisses at me, ‘Who did you bring with you? Have you brought a tail? Who hired you?’ He shakes me. His wide-open eyes are filled with rage.

  ‘What are you talking about? You picked me up yourself in the club, remember?’

  He seizes me by my throat. It hurts. His other hand covers my mouth. ‘Who are you working for, you little bitch? Anton? Vladimir? The money is mine! I am not giving it back to anyone!’

  I try to shake my head, struggling to breathe, but I can't move it. I give it my all to pull his hands away, but his grip is too firm. I make every effort, suffocated with terror. My body loses the strength to resist.

  Why? Just like that? Now?

  Another cracking sound. He jerks, looks at the door and thrusts me away, hard. I hit the kitchen cabinet with my head, bounce off it and fall to the floor. I breathe heavily, feeling a physical relief as my lungs fill with air.

  ‘Fuck... I’m not giving it back. It’s mine,’ he hisses, and walks towards the washing machine. He opens the door and pulls a red sports bag out of the drum, drops it onto the floor and unzips it. It’s packed with rolls of cash, just like the one he’d showed me in the club. He bends down, searches for a moment inside the bag and pulls a big shiny handgun out of it.

  I squeak. Ignoring the pain in my head, I get onto my feet.

  Everything is happening so quickly. My mind, shocked with adrenalin, refuses to follow the developments of this escapade. In just a few minutes a regular working night has turned into a brutal thriller.

  In which, without my okay, I’ve taken a leading role.

  He pulls the slide, checking that the gun is loaded, grabs me by my arm and throws me to the door. His face is crippled. Sweat runs down his pulsing temples. He pushes me again on the left side of the door and stops at the handle. He leans with one ear to the door.

  I look down and realize that my hands are clenching his wet towel, which I grabbed while I was lying on the floor. I think to wrap myself with it, but decide not to move, afraid to make him even more nervous. It all seems absurd – both naked, out of breath, we lean into the door. But the shine of the barrel in his hand and my pain reminds me that it’s not a joke.

  ‘Shhh.’ He presses his forefinger to his lips, and slowly takes the door handle. He freezes for a moment, trying to hear what’s happening behind the door. Another glass crack breaks the silence and he hurls the door open, jumping out, pointing the gun into the darkness.

  ‘I’ll kill you! It’s mine! No one gets it!’ His yelling is distant through the pounding in my head. The fear blinds me. I feel faint. I lean against the wall and close my eyes.

  ‘Hey dude, calm down.’ I hear a scared male voice and fumbling. ‘We were just…’

  ‘Please don’t shoot. We are leaving...’ Another man’s voice. More fumbling, and running down the stairs.

  ‘Get out of here, before I fucking kill you! Fucking fags! Find another place to screw each other!’

  ‘Fuck!’ He walks back inside, puts the gun onto the kitchen counter, and shapes another line.

  He sniffs, then rubs his nose with his back still turned to me. It seems he’s forgotten about me. I take one slow step through the door, without turning my back to him.

  ‘Fucking fags,’ he says, relieved, shaking his head. Before he turns around I storm out and down the stairs. I jump down the steps, trying to hear whether he is running after me. But the pounding pulse in my head and the booming heartbeat in my chest deafen me.

  I run out of the building and stop for a second, looking for the best place to hide. I run around the corner, and stop to catch my breath. I look down and shrug, realizing I am still naked. Thank God I have the towel. I wrap myself in it, trying to calm down. I peek out. No one is there. He’s not coming after me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, thinking what to do next.

  Damn it!

  The fact that I’ve left my handbag with my cell phone and money in that loony’s place hits me.

  Okay, Julia, calm down. You are safe, that’s all that matters.

  My body starts to shiver from shock and the night’s chill breeze. I do my best to hold back the tears, thinking that mascara, smeared on my face, will not help me to get a taxi. It’s going to be difficult enough wrapped in a towel.

  I walk to the main road and signal to the first cab I see. The driver stops. The street is poorly lit and he probably thinks that the towel’s a short dress. I get into the cab, give the address, and the car takes off.

  The trembling gets more intense, the urge to cry more difficult to control.

  Not now. Get home first.

  25

  I walk into the room. The side-table lamp is on and Natalia is sitting up in the bed. She’s looking at me, her face sleepy but her eyes wide open.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’

  ‘Sorry I had to wake you. I lost my handbag with my keys and phone.’ I mumble, fighting the tears. ‘I have to pay the taxi.’

  ‘What do you mean, you lost it? Why are you naked?’

  I drop the towel on the floor and put on a T-shirt and sweat pants.

  I hadn’t told the driver until we’d arrived that I had no money. As soon as he had pulled over, I explained the situation – someone had robbed me, but he didn’t have to worry, I had money at home and would pay him for the ride.

  He had smiled at me in the rear-view mirror. ‘Rough night, miss? Don’t worry, I believe you. I’ve seen you before, you work at the club. I’m sorry you’ve got into trouble.’ He reached for the dashboard. ‘Would you like to use my cell phone?’ I took it, mumbling gratitude, and called Natalia.

  ‘Not now, Nata!’ I cut her short. ‘I have to pay the driver.’ I look at her, embarrassed. ‘I need money.’

  She frowns, picks up her bag, pulls out her wallet and hands it to me.

  I walk out and pay the guy, giving him a fat tip followed by a genuine thank you and good night. When I come back inside, I grab a dry towel and head to the bathroom, ignoring Natalia’s stare.

  Twenty minutes later I walk into the kitchen with wet hair, in my pajamas and with a red face swollen from crying.

  Natalia is sitting on a kitchen stool with two cups of tea on the table. She looks at me but doesn’t say a word. She moves one of the cups towards me. Then she notices the red bruises on my neck.

  ‘God Julia, what the hell happened?’

  ‘He tried to strangle me!’ I touch my neck and the tears start running down my face, silently this time.

  ‘Oh my God!’ She gets up, sits next to me, and puts her hand on my head, stroking my wet hair.

  ‘He turned out to be some paranoid junkie, who’d probably stolen money and thought I’d been sent to get it back. He had a gun.’ I lean on Natalia’s chest, letting her hug me.

  ‘Oh God… it has to stop, Jul.’

  I straighten up. ‘I knew you were going to say that.’

  ‘Yes, Jul, why shouldn’t I? It’s true! The ‘outings’ have to stop. When are you going to realize that you are no different, better or worse, than others? You just don’t know how, but you can learn!’

  ‘Oh Nata, you have all the answers, as always!’ I dry my face, and get up to leave.

  ‘Jul, believe me. All I want is for you to be safe.’

  ‘Thanks for the tea.’ I leave the kitchen.

  I wake up depressed after a troubled night’s sleep. I avoid Natalia. Even on the way to the club we don’t say a word to each other.
>
  The club gets busy right away, but I am not moving. It seems as though I am not present and am only observing things like watching a foreign movie I don’t understand. No thoughts, no feeling, no desire or energy to move or do anything.

  At three in the morning Peter arrives. As always, we have a drink and agree that I will go to him after work.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, when we’ve finished and I’m dressing to go home. ‘You look like you’re really not okay today.’

  No, I am not okay, but that didn’t stop you from fucking me.

  ‘All good.’ I fake a smile and continue dressing.

  ‘Talk to me.’ He sits on the bed and lights a cigarette. ‘I know I am just a client to you, but we’ve known each other for several months already. And although, in your eyes, I am an old fart,’ he smiles, takes my hand and gently pulls me to sit next to him, ‘I have some life experience. Maybe I could be of help?’

  ‘I hate what I do. I hate to see my sister making more money than me without fucking anyone. I think I’ve tried my best, but I just can’t be like her. All I’m good for is to be a whore. How the hell can you help me with that?’ My voice is trembling with pain and resentment.

  ‘You’re right. I can’t really help, but…’ He looks at his cigarette, frowns, and kills it in the ashtray. ‘Look Julia, you are a smart, beautiful woman, and the only problem here is that you don’t believe it. Deep inside of you, you think you deserve what you have. Somehow, subconsciously, you don’t believe anyone could like you for who you are. As soon as you learn to love yourself, everyone around you will love you too, including every single jerk who comes into the club. Your sister is not smarter or more beautiful. She doesn’t say different things to the guys in the club. It’s not what she says, it’s how she says it. When she tells a client to join her for a dance, she believes that she is a great catch. And the client believes her.’

  I shake my head. ‘I understand you’re trying to help, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  I try to get up. He holds my hand and I sit down again.

  ‘It may seem like philosophical nonsense to you, but think about this. The fee for your outside services is not low. Yet you successfully find clients who are willing to pay. You know why? Because you are confident that you are good at fucking.’

  I sigh, deeply annoyed. He and Natalia... they both think they’re so smart! They think that if I just tell myself I’m good at lap dancing, the clients will turn crazy and start jumping on me like squirrels in the park when they see you have a bag with peanuts.

  If only it was that easy.

  Maybe they have a point, and I just can’t see it. Maybe I am like Lena, who doesn’t see the obvious and keeps making the same mistakes, even though Natalia and I have tried so many times to tell her that she can do things differently and still get what she wants.

  I smile and squeeze his hand. ‘Thank you.’

  I pick up my handbag. ‘Yeah, and you are an old fart.’

  He smacks my bum and I leave.

  26

  Next morning I open my eyes, feeling troubled. Almost annoyed. There is an answer that can win my battle. I know there is. It’s just around the corner. And all I need to do is to take a few more steps and grab it. The problem is, I’m like a blind person who doesn’t know the right direction.

  I get up, deciding to take a walk to the shopping mall to buy some fresh yogurt and fruit for breakfast. Walking helps me think.

  The weather is sunny, but as always in Cape Town it’s windy. I make a ponytail, knowing my loose hair in the wind is going to irritate me, grab my bag and leave.

  I make sure I don’t buy much, so my bags won’t be too heavy for the walk back. I stop for a cup of coffee and start heading home.

  I stroll with my eyes pinned to the ground. A sudden punch on my shoulder forces me back to reality. Immediately, I understand what’s going on. Instead of holding on to my shopping bags, I throw them onto the ground, and jump.

  I find myself sitting on top of the man. Face down, he is flattened on the ground. With both hands I press my full weight onto his neck, making sure he can't move.

  ‘Got you!’ The rush of adrenaline brings a wave of excitement. I grab my purse, and shake it over his head. ‘You bastard, you wanted this.’ I am ecstatic. ‘Do you know how this money is earned? Hard fucking work, you bastard! Something you wouldn’t know about!’

  He starts to sob. I hang my bag back on my shoulder, pull his hoodie away from his face and instantly utter, ‘What the f...’

  He is a kid. Barely thirteen.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He starts weeping. ‘Please don’t call the police... please.’

  I roll off his back and sit on the ground next to him.

  ‘What the hell?’ I finally find something to say. ‘You’ll end up in jail. Do you realize that?’

  He rolls onto his back and sits up. He wipes his face and his sobbing simmers.

  ‘I’m sorry. My parents don’t care about anything but booze. I just want to buy some food. I have two sisters and a little brother.’

  ‘Oh, come on… don’t give me a bullshit story to make me feel sorry for you. My father is sick too and I need the money no less than you! But I don’t go out there and steal!’

  He starts crying again.

  I don’t know if what he said is true, but his mission is accomplished. I feel sorry for him. I am a pussy!

  I open the purse and give him a hundred rand.

  ‘There are other ways of making money, even at your age,’ I say, softly now. ‘I know it’s you who stole from me… months ago.’ I get up, give him a hand up and smile. ‘I forgive you.’

  I walk back home with a stupid smile glued to my face. For a moment my brain, jolted by adrenalin, looses all the heavy thoughts. Half way through, I freeze. Like as if someone turned on the light bulb in a pitch-dark room, my head lightens up. I laugh out loud and start running back.

  This is it!

  ‘Oh gosh, what happened to you, Jul?’ Natalia exclaims as I storm into the kitchen.

  I follow her stare and look down – my jeans are ripped and my knees are bleeding.

  ‘Oh shit! I didn’t even...’ I look back at her and wave her off. ‘Don’t worry. I am okay. Nata, we need to talk.’

  ‘What do you mean? You are bleeding all over!’ She throws her hands up and leaves the kitchen. A minute later she comes back with sanitizer, cotton wool and a few plasters. ‘What happened to you? Did you fall?’ She looks at me suspiciously.

  ‘Not really.” I grin. “I just caught that guy who robbed us, remember?’

  ‘Unbelievable! I can’t understand why that’s so funny? You need to learn how to drive, Jul!’ She starts wiping my knees. ‘How did that happen? Did you call the police?’

  ‘No, I let him go. He was just a kid. Nata, we need to talk. I’ve just realized that you and Peter were right.’

  ‘Who is Peter?’ Natalia raises her eyebrows.

  ‘Never mind. I’ve realized I am Lena! I refuse to take advice or to try doing things differently even once. I can change things. The only thing that stands between me and success is my stubborn stupidity! I have an issue, and instead of working on it I am creating bigger problems. I want to learn everything you know. I’m going to change my attitude and rip that place apart!’

  Natalia is focused, sticking the plaster on. She then looks up at me. There is a wide, beautiful smile on her face.

  ‘Finally.’

  ‘Will you teach me please?’

  ‘On one condition,’ she says, as she packs her first aid kit away. ‘You will learn how to drive. And the first lesson is right now.’

  ‘Deal!’ I exclaim, and hug her.

  27

  ‘One of the most important things is to understand who you are.’ Natalia begins my schooling as soon as we get back home from our driving lesson.

  We crash in the kitchen for a quick bite before work. We chop a simple green salad and make cheese sandw
iches.

  Lately, Natalia has decided to try a vegetarian diet. She is running around with another smart-assed book about clearing chakras. This time, she is convinced we consume, with ‘dead flesh’, all the fear and suffering that animals experience while being killed. I am far from sharing her new energy-exchange, bullshit theories. Each time Natalia exclaims, ‘Doesn’t it feel amazing to know you are not part of the cruelty people inflict on animals?’ I nod and roll my eyes when she isn’t looking. Luckily, I like my food light before work, so my sister's new beliefs blend perfectly with how I normally prefer to eat anyway.

  ‘What do you mean, who I am?’ I smile, confused. ‘I am a stripper, who does prostitution part-time... or... I am a full-time hooker, who pretends to be a stripper! Is that what you mean?’ I squeak with nervous laughter and put the plates on the table.

  Natalia stays focused and looks at me. ‘Yeah… that.’

  We add forks and knives, then sit down and start the meal. ‘Where was I?’ Natalia continues, starting with the salad.

  ‘Let’s assume we are talking strictly about the stripping business. Stop fucking for money and learn how to make good money as a dancer is what we are trying to do here, right?’

  She pauses, making sure we are on the same page.

  ‘So, we are strippers, or dancers, but that’s not all. Our main goal is to sell the dance. We are salespeople. The dance is a product we sell. You can be the best stripper in the world, know how to do all sorts of tricks and moves on the pole, but how is that helpful if you suck when it comes to convincing the client to go into a private room with you?’

  ‘Hmm. Interesting. I hadn’t thought about it that way.’

  ‘The good news, Jul, is that we are the fortunate kind of salespeople!’ She smiles, excited. I smile back with less enthusiasm.

  Fortunate is the last thing I’ve felt these last few months.

  ‘Let’s imagine someone who stands at an intersection and tries to sell trash bags to people who are stuck in the morning traffic on the way to work. Their minds are preoccupied with what their day will bring: will the boss be a dick, will the suppliers fuck up the order, or the kids, or the husbands, or, or, or... All sorts of things!’ Natalia dramatically lowers her voice. ‘The last thing on their minds is the trash bags. You see?’ She waves her fork at me. I shake my head, honestly indicating that I have no idea what she is talking about.