SEVEN

“THAT’S $100,” LIBERTY STATED AS SHE PULLED down the passenger seat visor and checked her make-up in the lighted mirror.

“For a blow-job!” the white man exclaimed as he adjusted his slacks. “I’m not giving you that. You must be out of your mind!” He rudely threw $20 at her and reached over her to open the passenger door. “Fuck out of my car!”

Liberty’s eyebrow rose. She was enraged by the man’s audacity. She had clearly laid out her prices before anything had gone down. The man had known what he was getting himself into. He was trying to play her. She tried to take the nice approach as she rubbed his penis gently, causing it to become slightly hard again. “Didn’t you have a good time?” she asked seductively as she whispered in his ear, sticking her tongue inside slightly. The man grabbed her wrist tightly and threw her hand back at her.

“Not a $100 worth. Get the fuck out of my car,” he insisted. Liberty shook her head at the cheapskate beside her. Mu’fuckas always want to cheat you after they get theirs, she thought angrily as she went into her purse. She removed a small caliber pistol from her bag and pointed it directly at the john’s crotch. “Gladly, as soon as you go in your pocket and pay me what I’m owed,” she responded with a straight face.

Caught off guard the man’s eyes instantly bulged in shock. “O . . . okay, you got it. $100,” he complied as he reached into his pocket with a trembling hand and pulled out a cash-filled money clip. He began to peel off more twenties until Liberty snatched the entire thing from his hand.

“You’re lucky this is all that I’m taking,” she said. “You get to leave with your life.” She got out of the car and hurriedly walked up the street. She half expected the man to protest, but instead he started his car and sped up the block. Her heart pumped wildly as she placed the empty pistol back into her bag. The gun was just for show . . . they were given to all of the girls just to ensure that they were protected from their johns. Despite the fact that there was always a ‘shepherd’ lurking on the block to watch over the working girls, the guns gave them an extra sense of protection. The unloaded .22 had gotten Liberty out of many bad situations and that night was no different. Liberty’s hair whipped wildly on the windy L.A. night as she walked at a fast pace up Sunset Boulevard. She rushed into a party store and knocked on the bulletproof glass.

“Yo, Liberty! What’s good, baby girl?” the counter boy asked. “You looking good, girl. When you gone let me get some of that?” he jokingly inquired. Liberty had been on the track for eight long years and since the first time the young Mexican kid had seen her, he had tried his hand with her.

“You can’t afford it, Juan,” she replied with an innocent smirk. No other girl on the block could even enter the convenience store unless they were spending money, but Juan had taken a liking to Liberty. He knew what she did but he didn’t judge her for it. He allowed her to clean up in the store’s restroom whenever she needed. He passed her the key and gave her a wink as she passed.

As soon as Liberty was inside the safety of the bathroom she locked the door and removed the money she had just made. Her hands flipped through bills efficiently. $322, she thought. She removed the $100 that she would have to turn in, before lifting the lid off the back of the toilet. She pulled out the small stash that she had made by overcharging her johns and added the extra money to it before putting it back and replacing the porcelain top. If she ever got the chance to escape, she wanted to have the funds to get out of town and although her chances were slim . . . this small hustle kept her hopeful. After stashing her money, she pulled out some baby wipes and propped one leg up on the sink as she cleaned her vagina. She had become so used to the routine that she was no longer ashamed of what she was doing. It was all in the name of survival. After eight years of being forced to sell her body and soul, every dick felt the same. She didn’t know how to equate sex with love. She had stopped believing in fairy tales long ago. Her childhood had been flushed down the toilet the moment that Ezekiel had raided her unsuspecting village. Liberty was damaged goods and as she stared into the mirror all she could see were flaws. It was unreal how she was blind to a beauty that everyone else could clearly see. It didn’t exist to her; she couldn’t see her own mystique through her tainted vantage point. The everyday haze that she lived in made life almost bearable, and as she pulled out the small heroin-filled ziplock bag her stomach began to turn in anticipation. She wasn’t allowed to shoot it up, despite the fact that it gave her the best high. She felt like she was flying on the rare occasion that she could sneak a needle into her veins, but because it left tracks marks on her arms she was banned from indulging in that way. Instead, she sniffed it and she popped Ecstasy as often as she could get her hands on it. Liberty had a nasty heroin habit, one that the traffickers happily maintained. Keeping her high kept her submissive as she worked the streets. She could never run too far away. Liberty was no fool. She had seen some of the other girls try to escape only to be lured right back by the monkeys on their backs. This is why she saved up her own money, little by little, so that if the day ever came she would be able to support her insatiable cravings and purchase a one-way ticket out of town. As a euphoric feeling crawled through her system she cleared the extra dust from her nose and left the bathroom. She returned the key, buying a pack of cigarettes on her way out before returning to the strip.

“Hey, Lib, wait up!”

Liberty turned toward the familiar voice. She watched her friend Trixie exit a vehicle and approach her. Liberty could tell by the strut in Trixie’s step that she was in high demand that night. Despite the fact that they all were forced into prostitution, the women on the strip were still competitive with one another. Whoever made the most money had the most clout in the streets, and Trixie was winning that race by a mile. Her shoulder-length hair was naturally curly and framed her pretty face well. She was easy on the eyes. High cheekbones, naturally bronzed Brazilian skin, and chinky eyes made her seem so exotic. Her long, lean legs were like a web of seduction that men didn’t mind being stuck in. Trixie had a figure that any woman would kill for, and she worked hard to maintain it. She knew that there were a million bitches that would love to snatch her spot, so she worked constantly . . . often going the extra mile for her clientele. It was no secret that once Trixie got a hold on a man, he was hers forever. She had turned out too many to count. The sex with her was just that good. While the working girls like Liberty had limitations to what they would do, Trixie had none . . . she performed it all . . . she sucked, fucked, welcomed anal, fulfilled fantasies and obliged fetishes all for the sake of making a dollar. She was the biggest diva that Liberty had ever met, and one of the only people that Liberty had grown close to over the years.

“Hey girl, you pulling it in for the night?” Liberty asked. “You meet your quota?”

Trixie went into her thigh-high boot and pulled out a nice-sized knot of dead presidents. “Don’t a bitch always meet her quota?” she stated. She put the money back and removed a pack of cigarettes from the same boot.

“Damn, Trix, how much shit you got stuffed in that damn thing?” Liberty asked with a slight chuckle.

Trixie passed Liberty a square and then pulled one out of the pack before putting it back. “Bitch, as much shit as I need while I’m out here dealing with these niggas. I got rubbers, lube, and a blade in there too just in case a mu’fucka wanna get cute,” Trixie said seriously. Liberty and Trixie weren’t rookies on the block, and they acted accordingly, protecting themselves at all costs.

“I can’t wait to come up out of this shit,” Trixie complained as she wiggled uncomfortably while adjusting the thong out of the crack of her behind. “Where is this motherfucker?”

“Just take the shit off now, girl. You know they will leave us here all night to make sure the rest of these hoes earn their keep. It ain’t easy to make a minimum of $500 when you only charging $25 to wrap your lips around some dick. Fuck that . . . my head too good. If a nigga pump his brakes to fuck with me he better be ready to come up off some dough,” Liberty replied. She lit the cigarette as she leaned against a street sign and put her head back as she blew smoke into the air. She had been on the hoe stroll since she was ten years old and nothing surprised her at this point. She was a veteran, and her fuck game was out of this world.

“Hmm, hmm you know I need a mirror for that shit,” Trixie commented as she danced uncomfortably in her stiletto boots.

“Girl, you don’t need a mirror. Just rip the shit off. Go over there in that alley and handle your business,” Liberty instructed.

Trixie disappeared down the darkened alleyway while Liberty stood on the sidewalk playing lookout.

“I can’t see a damn thing back here! It’s too dark! All of the fucking street lights are busted out,” Trixie whispered harshly.

Liberty rolled her eyes and marched over to her friend. Liberty reached up and pulled down Trixie’s black satin thong as she knelt on the ground in front of her. Reaching under Trixie’s skirt she grabbed the piece of duct tape and slowly peeled it off, freeing Trixie’s privates. Once it was completely removed, Liberty patted Trixie’s package.

“It’s a shame this big ol’ dick was wasted on you bitch,” Liberty joked as she stood to her feet.

Trixie stuck up her middle finger and exhaled as she finally was able to breathe. “Girl, please . . . ain’t nothing going to waste over here. I be dicking these niggas down. They might not know what they are getting when they stop, but I’ve never had one man kick me out once they reach down there and find out what’s between my legs. These down-low ass men are curious as hell. Shit, I get the occasional housewife too.”

Liberty shook her head and tried to keep the disgust from showing on her face. Trixie was so feminine and beautiful that no one would ever guess that she was a transsexual. After years of being forced to live her life as a woman, Trixie now embraced it. “If I have to be a bitch, I’mma be the baddest bitch that has ever done it,” she said.

“I’m just so sick of this. Every day it’s the same thing . . . same bullshit . . . different men. I haven’t figured out how yet, but the first chance I get, I’m leaving. I’m running as far as my feet will carry me,” Liberty said honestly.

“That’s what your little stash is for?” Trixie asked.

Liberty looked at Trixie in surprise as her brow lowered instantly. “How do you know about that?” she asked.

“Girl, please . . . Juan done sampled a little bit of this too,” Trixie said.

“Juan?” Liberty shot back in disbelief.

“Juan, bitch,” Trixie confirmed. “I told you these men be out here loving them some Ms. Trixie, baby!” She smiled and took a long drag of her cigarette before she continued. “He knows you keep some paper put up in his bathroom, and he mentioned it to me one night when we were hooking up. You know how that pillow talk shit goes,” Trixie stated as she tapped the ashes that had accumulated on the tip of her cigarette, sending them flying into the sky. She noticed Liberty’s disposition had gone sour, and she waved her hand dismissively. “Fix your face, mami. I didn’t tell anyone else about it. Your secret is safe with me, Lib. You’re my girl. It’s not like you’re stacking big paper, babes. Just a little nest egg in case you’re able to break free. I respect it. You can trust me. I wouldn’t play you like that. You’re my bitch, Liberty . . . honestly, when you go I’m going with you. I wouldn’t last a day without you out here with me. You keep me sane bitch!” Trixie stated.

Before Liberty could respond one of the ‘shepherds’ pulled up and all of the ‘sheep’ made their way to the van. The men who ran the operation were anonymous. It was a system of sexual enslavement that was run with such precision that they could never be caught. Even if one of the girls managed to escape she would never be able to name her captors. Every worker was referred to as shepherd and the working girls were the flock. After they were loaded into the back of the windowless freight van, they rode dismally back to the warehouse.

Once the girls arrived they were lined up one-by-one and the profit from the night’s activities was quickly collected by the shepherds. Liberty stood unflinchingly next to Trixie. They had become accustomed to the routine. Liberty was still feeling the effects of her high and wanted nothing more than to be escorted to her cot so that she could fall into a comfortable sleep. Her lazy neck caused her head to wobble loosely as she fought the nod she was falling into. Trixie held onto her gently, discreetly giving her a shoulder to lean on. Liberty could feel herself drooling as her mouth fell open, but nothing could stop the drowsy haze she was stuck in.

As the shepherd made his way down the line he stopped at the young girl who stood to Liberty’s left, causing her to straighten her back in attention and force her eyes to stay open.

The girl timidly handed over the money she had made that night. Four crumpled twenty-dollar bills were all that she had in her hand. Knowing that girl was new to the operation, Liberty instantly felt sorry for her.

“Let me ask you something? You speak English, no?” the shepherd asked.

The girl nodded fearfully.

“So you understood me when I said you were to bring back a minimum of $500?” he asked.

“I . . . I tried,” the girl stuttered.

The shepherd acted as if he was going to walk away from her. “You tried,” he mumbled as he rubbed his goatee. Liberty closed her eyes knowing that it would have been better for the girl to say nothing at all. The man turned suddenly on his heel and without warning blew a hole through the girl’s head. Liberty felt the blood splatter onto her face and she stood frozen, her heart beating like a drum as she heard the girl’s body hit the floor. Too afraid to look beside her, Liberty found a spot on the dirty wall in front of her and kept her eyes there. Tears fell down her eyes and mixed with the blood as it created crimson trails of sorrow on her cheeks. I have to get out of here. It’s only a matter of time before that girl on the floor becomes me, she thought. Trixie squeezed Liberty’s hand, but neither of them spoke a word.

“Clean this bitch up,” the man ordered one of the other men. “And put the rest of them in their cages. Nobody eats tonight. Everybody meets quota . . . no exceptions . . . and until everyone does so, no one will be fed!”

As soon as Liberty was inside her closet-sized room she fell to her knees while frantically wiping the blood off her face. She knew that she could not take much more of this. It was only a matter of time before she would lose herself in this world. Her breaking point was nearing, and as she curled up on her cot she closed her eyes as the heroin lulled her back into a restless sleep.