Memoirs Aren't Fairytales (28 page)

My jacket was still in the kitchen, and I snagged it before going to his bedroom. His door was shut and I knocked once, opening it just a crack. Richard and Heather were fucking on the air mattress. I couldn't see her face, just her long brown hair spread over the white sheet, and Richard's backside moving up and down on top of her.

“Richard, I have something for you,” I said, opening the door wider.

The smell of his room—rotten food and sweat—was worse than usual. I put my hand over my nose and breathed through my mouth.

He stopped humping and looked over his shoulder. “Come back,” he said.

But I finally had the money and I didn't know when Dustin would bring me here again. Even though Richard had agreed to the new deal I'd come up with, he was sketchy. But with Heather in his bed, I didn't think he'd try to have sex with me.

“Heather, I'm sorry to interrupt you guys,” I said. “But it'll just take a sec.”

She didn't say anything.

Richard got off her and she stayed on her stomach. Her naked body lay uncovered and her casted arm was over her head. She didn't even roll over to say hello.

Richard moved to the center of the room. His dick was pointed at me, and I looked at my feet so I wouldn't be caught staring.

I reached inside my bra. “Here's the money I owe you,” I said and placed it in his hand.

He counted the wad of bills and flung the cash on his desk.

“We're even now, right?” I asked.

He glanced at Heather and then back at me. His tongue circled his lips and his eyes were wide and fierce.

“We good?” I said.

“Yeah, we're good.”

Heather still hadn't moved since Richard had gotten off her. I stepped over to the bed and touched her foot. “Come by the hotel tomorrow, okay?”

She didn't answer.

Her toes were purplish. I shook her heel and her ankle. “Heather?”

When I was in a nod, I could hear the people around me and feel their touch, and I'd respond to them. Something was wrong if she wasn't answering me.

I kneeled on the bed, inching closer. “Heather?”

I slowly rolled her over. Her body was heavy, and the smell was stronger than it had been in the doorway.

“Leave her alone,” Richard said.

But I couldn't. She needed help.

The skin on her ear had a purplish tint. She had the same smell as the sumo dude at Abdul's hotel.

Sometime after Dustin had walked me back to the hotel, Heather had OD'd. And Richard was fucking her dead body.

I had to stay calm. If I freaked out, he'd do to me what he'd done to Sunshine.

I crawled backwards off the mattress, keeping my eyes on Heather. And at the edge of the bed, I pushed myself up.

Richard hadn't moved from the center of the room.

I took a step and another and was almost at the door.

He moved fast. I didn't hear him coming, but I felt his hands around my neck and his body against my back.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked.

Stay calm.

“I'm going home,” I said.

“Don't you owe me something first?”

“I already gave you the money.”

He pushed his dick against my ass. “That's what you owe me.”

“But you said we're good.”

“I'm not going to let you renege on your promise.”

I tried to rip his hands off my throat. “I can't, I have my period,” I lied.

He laughed, and his body rumbled.

“A little blood won't kill me,” he said.

His grip tightened and he pulled me back, my heels dragging on the carpet. There wasn't any of his skin near my mouth to bite. My hands thrashed, and my fingernails stabbed, but that didn't stop him.

He threw me on the bed and I fell sideways over Heather. My head landed on her chest. My legs dangled off the side of the bed, and he reached for the button and zipper on my jeans.

I slapped his face.

The corners of his lips pointed down, and he punched the same spot where Jose had hit me with his gun.

“Don't do this to me,” I screamed. “Please.”

“Shut up, you fucking whore,” he said. “Act like you like it.”

My jeans were pulled off and thrown to the floor. The crotch of my underwear was ripped open. I squeezed my legs together, trying to keep him out. But I didn't have his strength, and he spread them apart.

“Please…” I yelled.

He forced his dick into my body.

“Stop…”

“Say it louder, it turns me on,” he said.

His breath smelled just like the death coming off Heather. His hands were oily, and his neck was caked with dirt.

I kicked my legs and dug my nails into his cheeks.

“I'm gonna fuck the Dustin out of you,” he said and yanked my hair, pulling strands out of my head. “And when you're with him, you're going to think about my dick instead.”

I held Heather's hand, squeezing her heavy fingers.

“No…” I cried.

But no matter how loud I yelled, Richard was the only one who could hear me.

His grip was too strong.

I had no fight left in me.

My head fell to the side. I couldn't look at the eyes of the man who was raping me.

Behind my lids, I saw my mom. The love on her face and tenderness of her touch when she kissed my burnt arm.

Richard moved in and out of my dry body.

I drove my nails into Heather's skin.

Would I be getting raped if I had listened to Walter and Sandra when they were trying to help me? And Kara who had tried to teach me the Twelve Steps? And Henry when he had told me to make Claire proud? And Dustin when he had said to stay away from this house? I should have listened to them.

Richard's breathing turned heavy. His strokes were rough and painful.

I focused on the needle.

My mom's face popped back in my mind, and I shook my head to get her out.

The needle. Its orange cap and clear chamber, filled with the sickest dope that would get me higher than I'd ever been.

I pulled Heather's hand to my face, and pushed her cold fingers against my cheek.

Richard moaned and his body wriggled on mine.

The warmness of heroin that would flow through my body. The tingling in each of my muscles and the beautiful nod that would follow.

He lay limp on top of me. His tongue circled my neck and his cum dripped from my crotch. “I'm done with you,” he said. “You can go.”

I slid out from under him, grabbed my jeans and jacket, and ran out the door.

When Dustin came home, I was in bed. I'd already showered and scrubbed every part of my body so he wouldn't smell Richard on me. My eye was a little red from where he'd punched me, but Dustin wouldn't notice because it was still bruised from when Jose had hit me with his gun.

He crawled on top of me and kissed my neck. His lips were on the same spot where Richard's tongue had circled.

“I've got bad news,” he said.

I opened my eyes, meeting his stare.

“Heather died tonight,” he said. “She OD'd at Richard's.”

My tears tasted salty like Richard's skin.

Heather was dead, Eric too, and Richard had raped me.

“I know it hurts,” he said. “I'm sad too.”

Henry's ring was tucked under my fingers, and the metal band felt cool against my burning skin.

“This is a bad ending, but I still hope you had a good birthday, baby.”

I squeezed the ring tighter, digging my nails into my palm.

Claire, you have to get me through this. Make me forget about the rape. Please, make me forget.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

At first, I was numb and empty. I knew what Richard was capable of and that I couldn't trust him. And I'd practically set myself up to be raped when I'd gone to his bedroom. I had no memory of the first rape that happened five years ago in college. But with Richard, I could see his face over mine, feel his touch, and hear his moans. He was right, all I could think about was his dick instead of Dustin's.

A few days passed. And then one morning as I was pulling out the needle, the numbness was gone. I realized the rape was just more unwanted sex. I was an ex-hooker who had years of unwanted sex. I gave Johns whatever they wanted and took their money. I'd taken Richard's too. So did it really matter that he'd raped me? He didn't take anything that hadn't already been taken from me or do anything that hadn't already been done.

But there was Dustin to worry about. He gave me everything I needed, all the dope I could shoot, a place to live, and money for food. And he'd only asked for two things in return—to stop hooking and to stay away from Richard. If he found out about Richard, he'd leave me for sure.

And he was going to find out. Richard would tell him. I guess stealing Dustin's girls was Richard's way of showing he was in control even though Dustin basically ran his business. But Richard wouldn't tell Dustin he'd raped me. He'd tell him some lie like I came to his bed and begged him to have sex with me. Dustin would be too mad to listen, and he'd never let me explain. Before any of that could happen, I had to get Dustin away from him.

But how could I make him want to leave so soon? He had a good thing in Boston. What could I say that would convince him to give it all up and choose to leave with me?

We'd talked about moving so many times before, but he wanted to save enough money first. We'd need a car to get away, and I didn't know if he had money for that. We could take a bus or hitchhike, and stay in hotels along the way. If we ran out of money, we could live on the streets. But I didn't have anything solid to make him want to leave now. Our move came down to money, and if Dustin didn't have enough, he wouldn't want to go.

A plan popped in my head. Dustin drove Richard's van to New York City every Thursday to drop off a shipment of dope. The delivery had to be worth thousands of dollars, plenty for us to live on. All I had to do was convince him to take me to New York, and once we got the money, I'd tell him my plan.

So when he got home from his run Wednesday night and climbed into bed, I straddled him. I peeled off his shirt and kissed his neck.

“I missed you too,” he said and rubbed my thighs.

I licked his chest. “I have an idea,” I said.

“I like it so far.”

When I got to his pubes, I looked up. “I want to go to New York.”

He pushed my head down.

“Will you take me with you tomorrow?” I asked.

He pushed down a little harder. “It's not safe,” he said. “You know that.”

I circled my tongue around his tip, thinking I could change his mind.

He moaned and scrunched his head into the pillow.

“So can I go?”

“No, but I like the effort you're putting in, just go a little deeper.”

I wanted to bite down until he said yes, but I didn't. I moved to the other side of the bed and got under the covers.

“Tell me you're kidding,” he said. “You're not going to leave me hard like this, are you?”

When I didn't answer, he got under the blanket and kissed my back and around to my stomach. He made it as far down as my belly button before I wriggled out of his arms and stood at the side of the bed.

“What's your problem?” he asked.

“I want to go to New York.”

“If this is about your birthday then I'll take Friday off and have Tommy do my run.”

He still hadn't taken me out to dinner. I didn't want him to take me out to celebrate, I wanted to forget my birthday had ever happened.

“I just want to see what you do every day,” I said. “And get out of Boston for a little while.”

“If you want to go to New York, I'll take you, but not tomorrow.”

I walked over to the couch and lay across the cushions.

“Baby, come back.”

The bed squeaked when he got up, and I felt his breath on my ear. “Friday, I'm all yours, okay?” He kissed my forehead.

He asked me to go to bed with him, and I said I'd be there in a little while.

I needed to think of a new plan. He didn't want me to go to New York because he couldn't protect me from the men he did business with. I couldn't be mad at him for that. But still, there had to be a way, a reason he'd have to take me or a way he couldn't stop me from going. I could bus it to New York in the morning and call him when I got there, and he could pick me up after his delivery. But I needed money for the ticket.

I waited until he was asleep and then tiptoed over to the dresser where he kept his wallet. There were a few hundred bucks inside. As I was about to pull out some of the cash, I saw his keys. Which meant the van was parked downstairs.

Dustin was snoring.

With the keys in hand, I threw on some clothes and snuck out of our room. In the parking lot, I found the van and glanced around to make sure no one was watching. There were two kids on skateboards just beyond the parking lot. I waited for them to turn the corner before unlocking the passenger side door so I could sneak into the van in the morning.

Back in our room, I climbed into bed and snuggled up to Dustin. This was going to be our last night living in Boston. I was going with him to New York, he just didn't know it yet.

Dustin got up around noon and went in the bathroom to get ready for his run. When I heard him turn on the shower, I threw off the covers and put on some clothes. I left a note on the bed, telling him I was going to the store and I'd see him when he got home. And after I packed my pockets with dope, rigs, and spoons, I went down to the parking lot.

The white van was an old, rusted clunker Richard had bought years ago from a chop shop. On the driver's side was a picture of a hand holding a paintbrush, and most of the letters above the logo were missing. But below was a phone number and the words “licensed and insured.”

I climbed in through the passenger side and over the seat. In the back of the van were rows of shelves on both sides that held paint cans, and on the floor were five-gallon buckets. I crouched between the buckets and covered myself with a tarp.

When I heard the key go in the driver's side door, I held my breath and grabbed the buckets for support. The van shook when he slammed the door, and all the paint cans rattled. I knew he didn't see me because he started the engine and pulled out onto the street. I could finally breathe again.