Absolution - Chapter Five
Maybe four or five years ago, there's no polite way of putting it, KV was a hooker. Not a fancy call girl, nothing so grand, a plain old run-of-the-mill street hooker. Circumstance made her that way, she was not proud, nor was she ashamed. Throughout long periods of her life, she and circumstance had not exactly seen eye-to-eye. In this particularly difficult time, KV had to resort to the oldest known profession. Hopping onto the treadmill, she'd resorted to the use of drugs to ease some of the occupational pain. Overnight she was hooked; she depended on the drugs so she could bring herself to do the work, she needed to work, to finance the drug dependency. For some time KV and the other girls had been having a few territorial issues. A pimp named Juvenile offered himself as the solution, but linking up with him proved to be not one of her better decisions. Juvenile did nothing to protect her. All he ever did was beat her for not making enough cash. She wasn't making the cash because the other girls consistently ran her off the beat. On the night in question, she was arguing and fighting with a couple of her co-workers, one of them pulled out a knife.
“Ladies, ladies please! play nicely.” A stranger's voice intervened, miraculously the knife vanished. The stranger was about six feet tall, maybe six-one or six-two. An African American, shoulder length dreadlocks, light suit jacket with jeans. His appearance could best be described as, tidy. For once, Juvenile was actually in the neighbourhood, like a dog he decided to mark his territory.
“Nigger! you need to mind you damn business and walk on.” The pimp boomed, puffing out his chest to the stranger. The stranger was well spoken, you could hear it in his voice as he apologised, smiling.
“Sorry sir, just trying to keep the peace,” he proceeded to walk on, to go about his business.
“You damn right to call me Sir, I'm your daddy, I ought to kick you in you ass! Keep the peace! Huh! Do want to feel this piece?” he grabbed his crotch. Or maybe some lead in your gut?” The other stopped in his tracks, possibly the talk of gunshot provoked him, he turned and spoke very calmly.
“You're so right, this here is none of my business, I'm moving on. Unless you're looking for some kind of an academy award. Why try to act the big man in front of the ladies?”
“Just shut the fuck up and walk on nigger!” Juvenile cursed. There was a very noticeable switch in attitude. The man marched up to Juvenile, the smile gone, the calmness remained.
“Don't tell me what to do son. It'll tick me off, maybe even make me angry.”
“What!” Juvenile became quite theatrical. “You're gonna turn green or some shit like that, I should be scared, right?” The stranger looked away, looked back, he placed a finger against his lips, like he was telling somebody, maybe even himself, to be quiet. He pointed a finger upward, like he'd had an idea.
“Listen son, you, you are just an idiot boy standing there in ya dumb assed prison uniform. You're just waiting to be somebody's bitch.” Juvenile looked down at his own clothing, a silk shirt and Armani jeans, the jeans were undone and hitched around the top of his thighs.
“Prison uniform? What the fuck you talking about nigger? Nigger, who you calling a bitch?” The pimp pulled his gun from the waistband of his boxer shorts, he held it down by his side. Juvenile seemed tense, nervous even. The stranger must have seen the gun but elected to ignore it, he remained calm and confident.
“Listen son,” he started. “With your jeans around your knees, you won't be running very fast, will you?” The stranger ran around in a circle, impersonating a penguin. So the Feds will catch you, and when they put you in pen, coz they do put scum like you in pen. Your ass is already hanging out, ripe and ready, so them boys are gonna love you. Boy, are they gonna just love your ass. All them dicks and no bitch you're in some serious shit, sorry, they're into your shit.” The stranger chuckled as he finished the sentence. The three girls found this amusing. Juvenile got mad.
“What the fuck you bitches laughing at? huh! Shut the fuck up!” He turned back to the stranger, but the man was nowhere to be seen. KV laughed loudest, attracting Juvenile's attention, she was feeling inspired and foolishly brave.
“Juvenile you are totally fucking useless, a total waste of space! He's right, you just a stupid boy. Move from me! I've had it with you, I am going back to being on my own. Juvenile, you're never around, when you are around, you can't do shit!” Juvenile didn't take this very well, by way of retaliation he slapped her then threw her over a car bonnet. The pimp began to beat her. The other girls, helpless, stood watching, this was down-town, they were used to this kind of behaviour.
“Can't do shit! Huh!” he screamed, repeatedly bringing the butt of the pistol crashing against the side of her face, again and again. “Can't do shit! Can't do shit!” he matched each phrase to a blow. After the third or fourth strike KV lay motionless on the ground in front of the car, fully conscious. She looked up at him coldly, preparing herself for what undoubtedly came next. Juvenile tucked the gun back into his waistband and inserted his hand into the front of his shorts.
“Bitch! I'm gonna show you what I can do! I'll show who can't do shit!” He pulled his penis out of his boxers. KV gave Juvenile a defiant stare, followed by a long slow blink. No way was she going to give him the satisfaction of closing her eyes for this, she continued to stare. Be certain, hell would freeze over before she cried. KV would die before she begged, she was ready to make her last stand right here and now. The look in the prostitute's eyes challenged him, her eyes showed defiance. They also possessed a childlike quality, this, saved her. Juvenile lost his nerve, and with it any hope of maintaining an erection. His original intent had been to rape her, right then and there in the street. To make an example of her in front of all, to show them who was boss. Without an erection this was going to backfire. The whole neighbourhood would be calling him limp dick. He reached out to rip the silver crucifix from her neck. KV lashed out, taking the skin off the back of his hand with her nails.
“Fuck you bitch! I ain't even gonna fuck you, coz you ain't worth fuckin', you're trash, a stinkin' dirty spic, nuttin' but trash, you just a ho.” Juvenile had to maintain his image and status. “Listen up bitch! I am gonna piss on you and leave you on the street. You'll smell like the piece of garbage you are!” For this KV had to close her eyes, she squeezed them shut tightly, waiting for the golden humiliation to descend. She braced herself for the moment of her ultimate shame. KV could never work this beat again, not after this. It was right then and there she made the decision. On the one hand it was a sin, but she remembered the words to a song, a song from the TV. Apparently suicide was painless. She relaxed, looking forward to the changes, she was ready, content in both mind and heart. Nothing could hurt her, not now, not ever again.
“Si tengo un mañana. Le mataré,” she hissed. Several moments passed, still she waited. Nothing happened, save for the sounds of a crash and a grunt and a thud. When the Hispanic girl eventually summoned the courage to open her eyes, the first thing she saw was the stranger leaning on a shovel, Juvenile's gun in his hand. The pimp's body lay motionless, the stranger pulled her to her feet.
“Fark!” she exclaimed, touching her collarbone. “Is he dead?”