The Dream Walker (4 page)

Chapter
9

Alaina put the books back in her bookcase, giving the spines one last wipe with the duster. She had never been able to get into the e-readers, and still preferred a good old-fashioned book to hold in her hands.

She loved reading and spent many afternoons in the local library and bookstores, especially the mom-and-pop stores. They found the most amazing undiscovered gems, and Alaina loved perusing the shelves to see what surprise she would find next. Mystery, romance, who-done-its, biographies—she’d read anything she could get her hands on. The books on the shelf were what she deemed “keepers” by her favorite authors, and considering her childhood, it was kind of surprising she could even read.

As a child, a cruel social worker had told her that she had been left in a baby drop box at a church when she was a baby. The box was for women who couldn
’t—or wouldn’t—care for their babies. One day a few years ago she had been cruising around the Internet and found a website that explained the origin and meaning of names. Alaina meant “peaceful,” “beautiful,” and “dear child.” She had laughed at that one and wondered if her mother had given her the name or someone in the state system.

She had never been a
“dear child” to anyone.

Alaina moved from foster home to foster home until she was seventeen. As she liked to put it, she had been dropped to the bottom of a Porta Potty at birth, and she
’d been shit on ever since.

At age five, she experienced her first violent vision. A boy who lived in the same foster-care home broke her doll. She remembered being so upset; the tears didn
’t seem to stop. She told her foster mom that she wanted to stab the boy’s eyes out, and she’d meant every word. That had led to a few visits to the state shrink, and even at that young age, she knew she had to keep any violent thoughts to herself.

At sixteen, she was placed with the Fredricksons, a couple who seemed nice enough, and after the first week, she thought that perhaps she had finally found a little slice of stability and normalcy after years of jumping from foster home to foster home. The wife worked in an accounting firm; the husband was a manager at a restaurant. She
’d learned early on that a lot of people who signed up for foster care weren’t exactly as they portrayed themselves to be to those who oversaw the system, and often times they were only in it for the check. Sure, there were people who truly wanted to help kids, but in Alaina’s experience, they were few and far between.

The Fredricksons did turn out to be good people, but
Alaina was an angry teenager who took advantage of their kindness. She began experimenting with drugs, and that led to stealing from her foster parents.

After a year of fighting, curfews being laid down and broken, and
Alaina almost flunking out of school, the Fredricksons had had enough and threatened to kick her out.

Before they could do that, she left.

Screw the system.

At seventeen, she’d disappeared and lived on the streets.

A week later, she was out of money and out of options. She had looked for a job, but no one wanted to hire a homeless, high school dropout.

As she walked the streets of Phoenix, hungry, tired, and her body aching, she contemplated suicide. She had nowhere to go, and she wasn
’t about to go to the state for help. She had grown up as a state ward, and the thought of going back to the foster homes and orphanages made her cringe. Maybe it was just time to end it all. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be living in this world at this time. She obviously was a mistake. If she hadn’t been, her parents would have kept her.

She sat down against a brick building, the afternoon summer sun so hot it felt as if she was in an oven. Pulling her knees up and resting her elbows on them, she crossed her arms and lay her head down. Sweat ran down her face, off the tip of her nose, and she felt as though she would either internally combust or pass out.

“Do you want some water, honey?”

Alaina
jolted awake. Had she passed out or just fallen asleep? A woman knelt before her, a bottle of water in her hand. Long red hair fell to her shoulders, and thick makeup tried to hide the pockmarks on her face. Her blue eyes were kind.

“
You really shouldn’t be out here. It’s over one fifteen today.”

Alaina
’s initial reaction was to run, but then the woman smiled and handed her the water. “Here. Go ahead.”

Alaina
took the bottle and drank its contents in one long swallow, the cool liquid making her feel stronger.

“
What’s your name?” the woman had asked.

“
Alaina.”

“
How old are you?”

“
Eighteen.” If she’d learn anything from living on the streets, it was that she needed to lie about her age.

“
Good. That means you can come inside,” the woman had said, standing. Alaina noticed she wore a robe, which she thought was strange.

The woman stuck out her hand.
“I’m Peggy, by the way.”

Alaina
hesitated a moment, then put her hand in Peggy’s. Peggy helped her to her feet.

“
Where are we going?” Alaina asked, a bit of fear gripping her.

“
We’re going to Mission, right around the corner. I can get you some more water, some food, and probably a job, if you want one.”

As
Alaina and Peggy turned the corner, Alaina saw that Mission
was a strip club. Alaina stopped at the door. She really didn’t want to go in, and she certainly didn’t want a job stripping, but she was so hot and hungry. Maybe she should just go in for the food and water, and then be on her way.

She stepped into the club and never left. She got a job waitressing, and Peggy let
Alaina live with her until she could get on her feet. Peggy became sort of like a mother figure to Alaina, even though there was ten years between them. Peggy made sure Alaina stayed away from the drugs that sometimes infiltrated the club, as well as the prostitution. Eventually, Alaina saw the big bucks were made on the stage. At nineteen, Alaina began working the pole.

At first she had been terrified, but after a few nights, it seemed natural to her. And she didn
’t mind the money either.

And now at twenty-nine, here she was. When she began stripping, she promised herself that one day she would do something different—something that involved her using her brain instead of her body.

She felt as though her life were passing her by, and her chance to do something else was fading. But she didn’t know what she wanted to do; she just knew it was something . . . different.

Shaking her head to clear her memories, she went to her kitchen and put away the cleaning supplies, humming to the smooth jazz the wafted from the speakers. After grinding to hip-hop all night long, she preferred more mellow music while in her private space.

Checking the microwave oven’s clock, she saw that she had about two hours before her yoga class. Looking around the apartment, she was glad she had the day off and was able to get to the mundane things in life like dusting, scrubbing the toilet, and laundry. Maybe she should take a nap before yoga.

There was a light tap at her door, startling her. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Checking through the peephole, she was surprised to see Peggy, her supervisor from work.

She opened the door. “Hi, Peggy. What’s up?”

Peggy smiled. Her face showed the twelve years that had passed since she rescued Alaina from the streets, putting Peggy above forty now. “Can I come in?”

Alaina nodded and opened the door wider. Peggy stepped in, and Alaina closed and locked the door. “Go ahead and have a seat, Peggy.”

Peggy got comfortable on the couch. “I smell cleaning products. I thought you were supposed to enjoy your days off, not spend them flopping the mop.”

Alaina chuckled and pushed her hair behind her ear. “The place was a mess, and it needed to be done. It wasn’t too horrible.”

There was a beat of silence as Peggy looked around the small space as if she’d never seen it before. It had been about a year since Peggy had been over, before Alaina’s dark thoughts became more frequent and she started to distance herself from others.

“What’s up, Peggy?” Alaina finally asked, a knot forming in her stomach. Peggy definitely looked uncomfortable.

She sighed and met Alaina’s eyes. “As you know, I’m in charge of all you girls,” she began.

Alaina nodded.

“I don’t know how to say this, Alaina, so I’m just going to say it the way it was said to me. They’re taking you off the pole.”

Alaina’s heart beat triple time as she tried to think of what she did to deserve this. She hadn’t been rude to any customers recently and she was always on time. She’d even picked up extra shifts when needed. “Why?”

“Look, Alaina. Obviously, you’re in fantastic shape, but the owners like to keep the girls young and fresh. You’ll be turning thirty soon, and that’s pretty much the age they like to put us out to pasture.”

Alaina sat back on the couch, not believing what she was hearing. At twenty-nine, she was being let go for being too old. How was that for a smack in the face? What would she do? Where would she go? She’d never known anything different than the Missio
n
.

“They did it to me too, Alaina. That’s why I was able to give you a job that day I found you on the street. The woman who was in charge of managing the girls left, and they took me off the pole and put me in her position just a few days before I saw you. I had just turned thirty.”

At thirty years old, she was a dried-up old hag. Alaina’s mind spun, thinking of her other options for survival. Maybe she should try to secure a position at one of the other strip clubs in town, but the thought turned her stomach. She’d started in the best club, and she didn’t want to step down.

And frankly, she was tired of stripping.

She’d wanted to do something else with her life for the past couple of years, but she never had made any move to do so. It was easy to stay in the rut she’d dug herself—the rut of complacency.

“Is there any other position open for me?” Alaina asked, not meeting Peggy’s gaze.

“We may be able to get you a part-time bar position, but you’d need to go to bartending school.”

Alaina nodded. Peggy had informed her many years ago that the full-time bartenders made half of what the girls on stage made, if they were lucky. Peggy was talking about working part-time. Alaina couldn’t live on the wages she would make. “When do I have to go?”

“They’re giving you three weeks. You can probably get some unemployment as well.”

Fabulous. Three weeks to figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life. Three weeks to come up with life-altering changes and plans.

“Are you okay, Alaina?”

Alaina nodded and put on a brave face. She met Peggy’s gaze. “Yes. I’ll be okay. Thanks for giving me so much notice.”

Peggy nodded and stood. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

Alaina walked her over to the door, and they hugged briefly.

“I’ll see you for your shift tomorrow, okay?” Peggy said, giving her a sad smile.

Alaina nodded and shut the door. Tears welled in her eyes. On some level she knew this would happen at some point. She thought of the other girls at the club; none of them were a day over twenty-five. Her mind wandered back over the past ten years, and she thought of women who were there one day, but gone the next. Some had met the owner’s definition of “old” and were probably let go.

She went into the kitchen and opened the freezer. A pint of Ben & Jerry’s “Chocolate Therapy” sat there. She allowed herself two spoonfuls a week. She grabbed the container and decided she was going to skip yoga and eat the ice cream instead.

She opened the fridge, grabbed the bottle of Chardonnay she had been saving for a rainy day, pulled a glass from the cupboard, and brought her bounty over to the small kitchen table and dug in. Whether she put on a pound or two just didn’t matter anymore.

The card Mr. Ash had given her caught her eye under the stacked mail. She slid it out and took a long sip of wine.

Why could she see the ashy stuff around him when no one else could? He had said she was special and promised her a new beginning.

Maybe it was time to see exactly what that entailed.

She opened her laptop and typed in the address on Google Maps.

A church?

She double-checked the address. Yes, she had entered it correctly. She clicked the street view button, and sure enough, the address belonged to the old, brick church with the large, ornate doors.

“Huh,” she said, and shoveled a scoop of chocolate decadence into her mouth, then followed it with a big slug of wine.

Sitting back in her chair, she finished off the pint of ice cream and half the bottle of wine as she stared at the picture of the church on the screen.

It had been a long time since she’d stepped foot in a church, the last time being with the foster mother who dragged her there every night. Church was a soothing, calm place from what she remembered. What she didn’t like about it back then was her foster mother insisted Alaina was a sinner and needed to repent. At that time, the worst thing she had done was steal fifty cents off the desk of a social worker.