***
Evening
We’re eating dinner at the table with Deangelo, laughing and drinking wine. It’s a good night out, one of the few I ever have, so I cherish it. Especially when Alisha can come along. It’s not often that I see her at night, although she seems a little distant. Even when I make jokes, she won’t laugh, but I won’t say anything. I don’t want to upset her any more than I already did.
“So you bought anything good yet?” Deangelo asks.
“Just some groceries, but nothing special,” I say.
“Aw, why not? You should go celebrate, baby! Get something special for yaself.” He takes a bite of his steak.
“Yeah … maybe later,” I say, and I look over at Alisha, who’s holding her fork but not putting anything in her mouth. “Something wrong? Feel sick?”
“Nah.” She picks up her knife and starts cutting her fish filet. “I’m just not that hungry.”
“Oh, well, it’s okay. Just eat whatever you can. Is it good?” I take a sip of my wine.
“Yeah.” The left side of her lip briefly quirks up into a smile. “Haven’t had something this good in a while.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves, ladies,” Deangelo says.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Yeah, thanks for inviting me along too,” Alisha says.
“No problem. I really want you to know I’m here for ya. Okay? I’m not just some pimp; I’m also your caretaker.”
“Got it,” I say, taking a bite, but Alisha frowns without saying a word.
“So with that in mind”—Deangelo wipes his mouth—“I have something for you.”
“Really? What?” I say.
“The money you got from that last job won’t last you forever. So I got another job for ya.”
“Another client?”
He winks. “Yeah.”
Alisha suddenly scoots back her chair and jolts up.
We both look at her. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You can’t do this, Alexis.”
“Why not? Your sister can do whatever she wants,” Deangelo muses.
“No,” she growls, looking at me. “You promised me.”
“No, I promised something different, and you know that.”
“He hurt you!”
“What?” Deangelo interjects.
I immediately hide the mark behind my hair. “Oh, nothing.”
“Don’t lie,” Alisha says, making a fist. “He has to pay for that. I don’t care if you got money, you don’t do that to someone.”
“It’s not like that,” I say. “He didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“Yeah, how do you know?”
When I part my lips, nothing comes out. I don’t know how to respond. I just … know, somehow, yet I can’t explain it, which is why I don’t say the words. It would sound stupid anyway.
But what Alisha says next has my heart racing. “I rest my case. If you’re not going to make him pay, then I will, one way or another.”
Deangelo raises his hands and leans back in his chair. “Wow. Now, hold on, little lady.”
Alisha folds her arms. “Don’t call me that. I know what you’re doing. Stop putting this on her.”
“She wants to do this. For you. So you can eat.”
“I didn’t ask her to. I can get a job, and so can she.” Alisha grabs my chair as if she’s looking for support, but I can’t give it to her. I know she believes we can live like normal people—she still has that dream—but I don’t. Not anymore.
“Alexis, c’mon, you can’t be serious.”
I turn my head and smash my lips together, opting not to say anything at all.
I know she doesn’t want me to do this, but at least, it makes us enough money to actually keep us off the streets.
“Goddammit, Alexis …” Alisha growls.
“I get that you’re angry, but this here is her decision,” Deangelo says.
“No, you’re pushing her,” Alisha says.
“Enough,” I say. “Please don’t fight. That’s not what we came here to do.”
“We came here to celebrate,” Deangelo adds.
“Celebrate what? That she’s earning you a lot of dough? That must be it.”
“Alisha!” I turn around. “Be grateful. We’re in a restaurant, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah … paid with money you earned because you had to sell your body.” She shakes her head, turns around, and walks away.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Bathroom. Be right back.” She turns around and marches off to the girls’ bathroom. I check if she really does go in before I return my attention to Deangelo.