Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Work (07/27/06)
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TITLE: Hooker, Line and Sinker | Previous Challenge Entry
By Lynda Lee Schab
08/01/06 -
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Roxy gritted her teeth and waited for the clink of pennies. Sure enough, several hit the pavement behind her. Laughter followed and grew fainter as the car sped away.
This was the third time they’d driven by. Roxy almost wished they’d stop and ask for her services. But, truthfully, she didn’t want to deal with a bunch of juveniles. They wouldn’t be worth the trouble.
The street was practically deserted, which wasn’t surprising considering it was about twenty degrees outside. Roxy pulled her fake fur tighter around her, making sure to leave a small gap to show off her cleavage; she had to use what she had to attract customers. Frostbite didn’t appeal to her so she’d refused to wear her usual fishnet stockings. Instead, she squeezed into skintight leopard print leggings and three-inch spiked heels and as it was, her toes felt like icicles. She longed for a warm bubble bath.
If only.
On nights like this, Roxy could honestly say she hated her job. Not that she particularly loved it on warm nights but it sure beat freezing to death. Plus, warm nights brought out more perverts.
She did it for her girls, Natasha and Noelia. Aged eight and ten, they were old enough to know her job was dangerous, yet young enough not to realize exactly how dangerous. She did her best to protect them from things they didn’t need to know. But it killed her every night when she was getting ready for work: protests, whining, hanging on her arm, tears, guilt trips... someday they would understand. For now, she assured them that God was with her, keeping her safe.
Roxy slipped into a nearby doorway, pulled the tube of neon pink lipstick from her pocket and slid it over her lips. She chose to work a less popular street to minimize competition and attention from other girls. Fist fights regularly broke out over territory. Plus, newbies to the area were treated with suspicion and malice. If she wanted to deal with black eyes and mistreatment, she would still be married.
Headlights appeared and Roxy stepped out toward the curb. She frowned when she realized it was the car of high school boys again. Now it was too late to retreat back to the doorway; they had already spotted her.
Planting her hands on her hips, she tried to look tough. A penny hit her in the head and more scattered across the sidewalk. Roxy resisted the urge to spew a string of curse words at the taillights. Instead, she shouted, “Go home! It’s past your bedtime!”
Another set of lights momentarily blinded her and she looked toward their source. A shiny, black Lincoln slowed to a stop. She smiled seductively and moved toward the driver’s window.
“Hey, honey,” she said. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for you. Where you been all night?”
The man was fiftyish, balding, with beady brown eyes. Despite the freezing temperature, a band of sweat covered his lip like a mustache. He eyed Roxy greedily.
Roxy leaned against the window. Pornographic magazines were littered across the front seat and onto the floor. Big surprise, she thought.
“What’s your specialty?” the man asked, licking his lips.
“That depends. How much are you willing to spend?”
“I’ve got cash.”
“That’s great, ‘cause I don’t accept credit.” Roxy forced a laugh.
The man opened the glove box and pulled out a wad of bills. He thumbed through, giving Roxy a glimpse of hundreds and fifties.
She raised her eyebrows. “You were right, Sweetie Pie. You do have cash.”
The man smiled. Something green and disgusting was stuck between his teeth. “So? You interested? What would two hundred get me?”
“Hmmm. Let me think...” she placed a finger on her chin. “I could flash you.”
The man looked confused, then angry, his face turning red. “Flash me? That’s it?” he spat.
Roxy reached into her fake fur and simultaneously flashed her badge and gun. “Here’s your flash, Lover Boy. Out of the car.”
Another night, another dollar, another scumbag off the streets. Roxy said a prayer of thanks to God for keeping her safe.
Just as Roxy finished handcuffing Mr. Slimeball, the carload of juveniles rounded the corner and rumbled toward her again. The car slowed and she watched, amused, as the boys faces transformed from cocky to mortified when they realized who she was and what had gone down.
As expected, they kept their pennies to themselves.
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I loved – and needed - the twist at the end. I kind of did a mental flip in the middle as she was assuring her children that God would keep her safe! Doesn’t that say a lot about me making snap judgments?