The Runaway
Chapter II
The meeting
Next stop, Brooklyn
The young woman stood alone in the empty corridor of New York’s Penn Station. In a few minutes, she’ll be swamped with an abundant amount of hustling riders racing to their employment. However, at this moment an anxious thought circles her mind.
I’m a long way from Nebraska,” she titters. I would have been here sooner if that John had not, the young woman scrapes teeth over an upper lip. Her mind can not containe the anger. “Bastard fed me a lot of lies just to use me like a whore. Once he knew I wasn’t some underage trannie girl he really went to town on me.” Melanie takes a deep breath. “At least last night he got me the Estro and this spironolactone,” she giggles. “Where do they come up with these names? It’s like the whole alphabet.” Closing hazel eyes, she resumes mentally recounting a few hours before. Fat bastard was so drunk when he came back he left me alone. She looks at her reflection in the clear, floor length window. And his wallet. “Thanks for the ticket to the big city.” She tells the reflection. As the area around her becomes a passageway full of future commuters and those rushing to the street, a tear leaves an eye. He was right. The thought cuts through her form. My parents didn’t even get someone to look for me. Like, I could have been killed or something. They just didn’t care about their, Melanie looks up at the ceiling. How did they put it? A whisper causes a petite fog on the glass. “Their fuckin’ homo son.” Melanie sobs loudly. She raises her hand to quivering lips as she pretends to cough, hoping to cover her sorrow.
Upon entering a cab, she asks to be taken to the club called The Thong. The driver looks at the young woman in the backseat, grunts and smirks. A year ago, she met the club owner online. He promised her a secretarial job for his business. They even used Skype to make arrangements. A few days after leaving home, the tired, hungry and depressed young woman met the benevolent, John. Then everything changed.
Two Blocks from The Thong
“So, don’t look at it that way, Sonny.” A hint of a Russian accent fills the boy’s ears. “We’re not pimps or somethin’.”
Sonny sits in a tailor made blue suit.The black silk dress shirt has pink piping along the collar.
“I understand, Dimitri. We just get a cut of the action.” The boy smirks. “For protection.”
“Sonny, it’s business.”
The two well dressed men leave the cafe and walk two blocks to their destination. Though, another person regrets entering that destination.
Melanie’s facial muscles tighten. The photos of almost nude dancers fill the billboard.
“I’m looking for Boris.” She needs to take a breath to quell her thumping heart. “I,” a slight pause, “talked to him last year about a job. A secretarial position.”
“A what?” The burly bouncer replies. “Go in, baby. I’ll get Boris. I’m pretty sure he’ll hire you,” his broad chest shakes from a harsh sounding chuckle. “As a secretary.”
As Dimitri and Sonny enter the club, all eyes halt the ogling at the strippers and covertly glance at the well-dressed men. Sonny is tall with a sturdy looking body, while Dimitri could pass for an NFL Lineman. The stares are brief.
A short and portly fellow walks over to Dimitri. They speak Russian as Sonny is introduced.
“This is Boris.”
“Hello Sir, I’m Sonny.”
“Listen boy’s you see that fresh piece of ass over there?” The club owner asks. “She got no tits, but who cares?”
“Yeah,” snaps back Dimitri. “She’s a doll.”
“I was supposed to offer her a job last year. Shit, I can’t remember last week. She thinks she’s gonna keep the books and secretary shit.” The two Russians laugh. “Listen, I got your envelope in my office. Give me a minute. Drinks on the house.” He inhales. “I’ll give her some shit about no job. But she can have a spot on the stage.” He snorts a laugh. “She got no home. Where can she go?” He smiles. “I’ll fuck her too.”
Upon Boris’ exit, Sonny speaks to his partner. “That girl looks scared shit. Look at her. She don’t belong here.”
“Hey, Sonny boy,” Dimitri barks. “That ain’t our fuckin’ business.”
Sonny’s green eyes stare at Dimitri. He then walks over to the quivering form in the corner.
“Hey,” his voice causes her to jump a bit back. “Listen, you know they ain’t got no secretary job in a place like this.”
Melanie can not answer. Her lips tremble.
“Listen, we’ll take you someplace. Come with us.” Said Sonny.
“Ba, ba, but,” her reply.
“Sweetheart, please,” he grabs her arm. “Come with us, or spend your damn life on that fuckin’ stage.”
Melanie follows the determined young man as Boris approaches.
“Hey, kid,” the man’s hand grips Melanie’s slender arm. “She’s staying here.”
“Take your fuckin’ hand off her. Now.” Sonny’s last word is low but its tone stops the owner’s action. He knows of Sonny’s reputation.
“Dimitri, what dah fuck this kid thinks he doin’?” The Russian’s round face is flushed with eyes wide open.
Dimitri takes Boris to the side. The conversation is one-sided as Boris listens as his facial expressions appear to change with each word.
“Take the bitch.” He tells the two.
Melanie is silent and dazed as she is led outside the club.
An annoyed Dimitri asks. “Honey where you live?”
Tears flood the girl’s fair skin as she whispers. “I have no home.”
“Yes, you do.” Said Sonny. “You’re comin’ with me.”
“Are you kidding? Mom won’t go for that.”
“Listen D, we can take an Uber, if you wish?”
The burly man sucks air through clinched teeth and speaks.
“Next stop, Brooklyn.”
- *******************************************************************
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- What a lovely way to meet.
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