Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Jasmine
I wake up feeling disoriented and glance around the room. Obviously, this bed isn’t mine. For one thing, it’s huge. Also, it’s really comfortable. At the house, I sleep on a single cot that’s as comfortable as a slab of concrete. My pillow is old and stained, and the sheets are threadbare.
All of a sudden, the weight of what I’ve done comes crashing down on me, and I sit up in a panic, my pulse racing.
Oh my god, oh my god. What was I thinking?
I can’t do this! I can’t run out on Tony. He’ll kill me for even trying. No one ever succeeds at leaving. I remember one girl—Miranda—who ran off with a trick a few years ago. She and the guy left Chicago for Detroit, where they lived for a year before Tony managed to track her down and drag her back. I remember hearing screams coming from the cellar beneath the house. They went on for weeks, and then suddenly all was silent. We never saw Miranda again. I don’t know if Tony killed her or sold her.
I must be out of my mind to think I can do this.
The curtains are partly open, and it’s still light outside. It must be late afternoon or early evening. I’ve been gone for less than a day. Maybe if I beg for forgiveness, he’ll take me back.
I glance around the unfamiliar bedroom.
Liam.
This is his bed, his bedroom. His apartment.
I lean against the black fabric headboard and check out the room. It’s definitely a masculine space. The dresser is black, as is the chest of drawers. On each side of the bed is a black nightstand. Gray drapes hang in the two floor-to-ceiling bedroom windows. Beyond the windows, I see the tops of other high rise buildings, a darkening blue sky as a backdrop, and a setting sun.
My stomach sinks as reality catches up with me.
What have I done?
I was crazy to think this could work. Panic sweeps through me, and my pulse races. Tony’s undoubtedly furious by now, and I’m sure he already has his men scouring the Chicago streets looking for me. When they find me, they’ll drag me back by my hair, and then Tony will beat me to within an inch of my life. Or worse. Over the years, I’ve seen him do it to many girls who thought they could leave. It never ends well.
Like an idiot, I let Liam convince me there was a way out, that I could escape. He made it sound so easy. “I’m not afraid of your pimp.” Obviously, he’s never met Tony.
I know Liam means well. After years on the streets, my instincts have gotten good at detecting threats and bullshitters. Liam’s neither. He’s definitely one of the good guys—a knight in shining armor. In my world, that kind of attitude will get you killed.
When I hear the apartment door open, I freeze, not moving a muscle. I listen hard to a few quiet voices coming from the living room. Someone’s here. Immediately, my anxiety kicks into high gear.
I jump out of bed and quietly slip out of the bedroom and into the bathroom across the hall to pee. There’s nothing I can do about my face—bruises and all. But I do brush my teeth with the toothbrush Liam gave me last night.
Last, I stare at my hair. It desperately needs to be washed and conditioned, but I don’t have any hair care products. I can’t use Liam’s. I need products specifically designed for my type of hair. I quickly wet my hair and then bend over, letting the strands hang down. I carefully rake my fingers through the tangles. When I straighten back up, my curls are restored. It’ll have to do for now.
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, horrified by how I look—like I was on the losing end of a brawl last night. I’m lucky Liam showed up when he did. Ricky was high on meth and outta his mind last night. He could have killed me. Ricky’s always been very possessive of me. He thinks we’re an item—that we’re in love. Whenever he sees me talking to another potential trick, he loses his shit. Last night he was the worst I’ve ever seen him. As I stared at the tip of that knife he held to my face, I was sure he was going to kill me.
Liam probably saved my life.
And now because of me, Liam’s life is in danger.
I finally leave the bathroom, flipping off the light behind me, and walk slowly down the hall to the living room. Liam is seated on the oversized armchair. On the sofa is the paramedic who tended my cuts last night, and beside him is the girl I spotted last night in his apartment. She appears to be mixed race, like me. She’s about my age, gorgeous with sleek, long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her dark eyes are framed by kohl eyeliner. She’s wearing a burgundy University of Chicago hoodie and sitting as close to the paramedic as she can.
The moment they spot me, the three of them stop talking.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say.
Liam shoots to his feet. “Jasmine, hi.” He nods to the couple on the sofa. “You remember Jason and Layla.”
“Hi,” I say to the pair. My heart is hammering.
The girl gives me a kind smile and a tiny wave. “It’s nice to see you again.”
I almost laugh. No one says that to prostitutes.
Layla gestures to my face. “I hope you’re feeling better.”
“I’m glad to see you’ve gotten some of your color back,” Jason says. “You were pretty pale last night when Liam brought you here. How are you feeling?”
I nod. “Better. Sleep and hot food helped a lot.”
“I’m sorry about your face,” Layla says. Her expression falls, and I could swear the look in her eyes is sympathy. “But don’t worry. The bruises will heal.” She seems to know what she’s talking about.
Does this girl even realize what I am?
In my experience, nice girls like her shun girls like me.
“A trick cut me up last night,” I say, touching my cheek. “It could have been a lot worse, but Liam stepped in.”
Without missing a beat, Layla nods. “That sounds like Liam, always the hero. I’m glad he was there to help.”
So, she does know what I am. She didn’t even bat an eye when I mentioned my trick.
“Jason wanted to check on your injuries,” Liam says, “and we thought it might be nice for you to meet Layla. You two are the same age.”
I glance at Layla, and in her eyes I see a whole lot of understanding and empathy. I don’t know her story, but I get the feeling she’s been through some shit of her own.
Maybe if I were someone else, Layla and I could be friends. As it stands, I don’t have any friends. The girls in the house would turn on each other at the drop of a hat if they thought it would buy them any favors with Tony.
Jason stands. “We won’t keep you. We just wanted to stop by and check on you.” When Layla stands, Jason holds his hand out to her, and she takes it. “If there’s anything you need,” he adds, “don’t hesitate to ask. We’re right across the hall.”
Layla gives me another small smile. “If you want to talk, I’m available.”
“Thanks,” I tell them both.
Liam sees them out. “Thanks, guys,” he says at the door. “I appreciate you coming over to check on Jasmine.” Then he closes the door and turns to face me. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good.” It’s the truth. I feel much more rested.
“I hope you found the bed comfortable.”
I laugh. “Are you kidding? It’s like heaven.” My smile falls as reality comes crashing back, and my anxiety shoots up into the stratosphere. “Liam, this was a huge mistake.”
“What was?”
“Thinking I could leave. Tony’s going to find me, and he’s going to punish me. I have to go back. Maybe he’ll go easy on me if I go back willingly.”
Liam frowns. “Is that really what you want? To go back to that life? If you do, I won’t stop you. It’s your life, Jasmine. It has to be your choice.”
“No, of course I don’t want to go back! I hate that life. But I’ve been missing for nearly twelve hours now. Tony’s got his men out searching for me, scouring the streets where I usually work. If they find me—” I shudder at the thought of what would happen.
“Jasmine, I won’t let anything happen to you. They won’t find you.” Liam gestures out the window. “Besides, I don’t think they’ll be looking for a runaway prostitute hiding out in the Gold Coast.”
“Don’t underestimate Tony’s reach. He’s got a lot of friends in high places. Some of my clients would surprise you—attorneys, cops, judges, CEOs. A lot of big names.”
“I’m not afraid of Tony.”
“I hope you know what you’re getting into,” I say.
He nods. “Now, are you ready for some dinner? It’s been hours since you ate.”
At the mention of food, my stomach growls. “Yeah, I could eat again.” I check the time, surprised to see it’s almost five o’clock. I slept most of the afternoon away.
“What’s your favorite kind of food?” Liam asks.
I shrug. “We eat whatever Tony gives us.”
“Well then, what sounds good to you right now?”
“Tacos? I love tacos.”
“Tacos it is.” He picks up his phone. “I’ll place an order for delivery.”
Instantly, I’m relieved that we don’t have to leave the apartment. “Thanks.”
“So, what would you like to order?”
* * *
“Tell me about your family,” Liam says as we sit at the kitchen table eating.
I dip a tortilla chip into my cup of salsa, pop it in my mouth, and chew. “Mmm. I don’t remember salsa ever tasting so good.”
“Jasmine?” he asks patiently. He’s always so patient. “What can you tell me about them?”
“There’s not much to tell. It was always just Mom and us kids.”
“What about your father?”
I shrug. “Never knew who he was. I don’t think Mom knew either. She does tricks for drug money. There was always a constant stream of men in and out of our apartment.”
“Okay. Tell me about your Mom.”
“What’s there to say? She’s a drug addict. She fucks men for drugs.”
“Does she have a name?”
“Faye.”
“Last name?”
“Grant.”
“And your name is Jasmine Grant?”
“Yeah.”
“Where does your mother live?”
“On the south side, in Englewood. Why?”
“I was thinking we should pay her a visit. You’ve been away from home for nearly five years. Maybe things have improved there. It’s certainly worth looking into. It would be nice if you could return to your family.”
I shake my head. “No fucking way.”
“Why not?”
“She’s the reason I left. She’s why I am what I am.”
“What do you mean?”
“When my mom started pimping out my older sister, I knew it was only a matter of time before she started with me. That’s why I ran. I was not going to let my own mother pimp me out. But alone on the street? I was cold and hungry. I knew I’d never survive. That’s when Tony found me. I was sleeping in alleys and eating out of trash dumpsters. He offered me food, shelter, and his protection in exchange for me working for him.”
Liam frowns. “Maybe your mother’s in a better place in her life now. Maybe she can help you get back on your feet. Don’t you think we should at least try her?”
I take a sip of my soft drink. “You don’t know my mom. She’ll never change.”