Retribution

Chapter 4

Lauren indulged her since they were in no hurry to get home. They had the entire day to relax. Lauren never worked Sunday nights. Pickings were slim, with most of the family men spending their evenings at home.

Lauren wanted a house one day. She might get a respectable job, maybe in real estate. The money wouldn’t be as good, but she could quit moving. She could put down roots, maybe plant flowers in the yard.

It was long-term goal. She still had a few good years on the street. She intended to make them count, so she could live her dream when she was through. There would be no tiny duplex or condo for her. She would have a cozy home in a respectable neighborhood. She would look back over her childhood and know that none of it mattered. She would achieve success in spite of the odds. No one would ever look down on her again. She’d come up from the bowels of social depravity and perversion. And she’d survived.

One day, she would live among respectable families who kept their dark secrets, if they had any hidden in their closets. She had no delusions about their perfection. She suspected they were as perverted as the drug dealers and johns. But they were discreet. Though she despised the discretion that allowed them facades of decency, she longed to bury the past and live among them. She would cultivate her image as a sharp business woman. Admiration and respect would be hers for the taking, along with admission into the refined society that had cast her out. This was what she desired.

Someday, it would be within her reach.

They walked, rested on benches, and walked some more. “Let’s stop off for tacos on the way home,” Kathy suggested.

“I thought you weren’t going to eat all week.” Lauren reminded her. She appreciated the way Kathy took pleasure in the little things of life, scented candles, flowers, kittens and candies. She was chubby, and the chin length cut of her chestnut hair did nothing to dispel the roundness of her face.

“All this walking has made me hungry. I’ll eat them as an early supper,” Kathy said. Lauren wasn’t the least bit hungry, but they would stop at Taco Bell and indulge Kathy.

Her cell phone rang as they headed for the car. A woman with a mid-western accent stated that she had obtained information Lauren had requested regarding her adoption history. She’d uncovered the birth mother and could give Lauren her name if she still wished to make contact.

Stunned, Lauren couldn’t answer. She’d waited over a year for this information. She’d begun to think she’d have to find a way to acquire it on her own. Now, when she didn’t expect it, here it was, set before her like lobster at a seaside café.

Finding her voice, she told the woman she’d like nothing better. She jotted the name and current address onto a scrap of paper and thanked the woman for her efforts. She clicked off and turned to Kathy.

“You won’t believe who just called.”

Kathy grinned. “Yes, I will. I was listening.”

Lauren stood on the curb, biting her lip.

“Well,” Kathy prompted, “are you going to tell me what she said, or not?”

Lauren shook herself free of the emotions that assailed her. “Of course I’ll tell you. Only promise you won’t tell anyone else.”

Kathy rolled her eyes. “Who would I tell?”

Lauren gave her a somber look. Kathy was wont to prattle to anyone who’d listen. “Okay, but I really promise.”

Lauren told her what she’d learned.

“That’s wonderful. When will you go out to meet them?” Kathy asked.

“Maybe in a week or two.

Lauren expected her birth mother was happily settled. The last thing she’d welcome was a reunion with her daughter. The thought gave her amusement.

The phone jingled.

This time it held a text message. “You don’t mess around with Jim.”

She showed it to Kathy.

“Who’s Jim?”

Lauren shrugged. “I don’t know. It must be a wrong number. I don’t mess with any guy who doesn’t have a wad of dough in his wallet.

She remembered the hang up call she’d gotten that morning and wondered if there was a connection. Though it made her uneasy, she couldn’t imagine how either call could be a threat to her. No one had her cell number except Kathy and the adoption agency.

They bought Kathy’s supper and headed home for a quiet evening. This appealed to Lauren, who was a homebody at heart, as was Kathy, which made them perfectly matched roommates. Neither liked to socialize. They preferred to stand on the fringe of life and watch the up and coming make fools of themselves. It was ever so much more amusing than joining the game.

They put on a movie while Lauren worked out. The down side was that the evening was nearly over. Tomorrow, the new week would begin. Lauren would sleep in while Kathy went to work. The cycle seemed endless. Yet, one day, Lauren would have enough money to do as she pleased. This was what she promised herself. This was what kept her going.

When the alarm went off at noon the next day, Lauren smacked the button to quiet it. She stretched languidly, cat-like, before rising for breakfast. After she’d eaten a bowl of cereal, she went into the bathroom to apply make-up to her deceptively innocent baby blues and comb her feathery hair toward her face.

She watched television until early evening and then dressed to go out.

Tonight, the weather was balmy. She had no need of a jacket. So she dressed in black leather shorts, black fishnet stockings and a pink satin shell.

As shadows darkened doorways and alleys, she became a black widow, preying among the weak and witless. From them, she would get her evening meal and return to her lair before repeating the tedious cycle of flirtation, capture and sting. Yet, as long as it was lucrative, she would continue to hunt.

To the men she ensnared, she was no more than a delicious confection. Yet, once they were alone, she turned from luscious pastry to a confident conqueror. She was a lioness, a queen among the women of the street. Though she was sick of the tedium, there was satisfaction in her work. In righting the wrongs committed against thousands of helpless victims, she took from the gluttonous and gave nothing in return. This gave her tremendous satisfaction.

When she picked up her first mark within ten minutes, this night promised to be as victorious as every other evening. The customer drove by in a Corvette, wearing rings and a flashy bracelet, his dark hair carefully sprayed in place. His suede jacket impeccable, he oozed style.

She gave him her brightest smile, and after a quick negotiation, they headed for the hotel at the end of the block. They made small talk along the way. He said he was a dentist. She gave away nothing about herself.

When they reached the hotel, she waited while he checked in under a fake name. Once they were in the room, Lauren pulled out the bottle of wine she kept in her shoulder bag, found two glasses and “fixed” his drink to give him at least a four hour nap.

She curled her slender fingers around the glasses and admired the red polish on her sculptured nails. She thought it was ironic she could use these hands to lure and capture as well as to inflict crippling blows perfected from long hours of practicing Tae Kwon Do. She was faithful in attending class in whatever city she lived. It gave her release from the pain of her past and confidence in the present.

She brought back the drinks.

“I like to relax a little. You don’t mind, do you?” she asked with a winsome smile.

“No. Of course not.”

The dentist was proving agreeable, eager to enjoy every moment of her company. She snickered at his gullibility since brief minutes of conversation were all he’d get from her.

The drug began to work and his head lolled against the headboard. He frowned as his eyes rolled back in the sockets. Then, he went limp.

Lauren dug eagerly in his pockets, extracting his wallet and hoping he was as well-heeled as the image he projected. She expected six or seven hundred. She found three hundred in twenty dollar bills. Disappointing, but it would have to do. The night was young. She had time for at least three more clients. Even if they carried only what he had, it wouldn’t be a bad night.

She pocketed his money and left without a backward glance. He’d not find her again. She wouldn’t work this street after tonight. And she’d be changing cities soon. He’d be out his money and his pride. This was her ultimate objective.

She felt smug as she returned to the street.

After two more easy takes, she felt confident this was going to be a good night. When she added this money to the cash reserve in her safety deposit box, she’d be one step closer to her dream. She would live in respectable society. All it took was money.

Her last mark drove slowly beside her in his sedan before pulling to the curb. She glanced at her watch and decided she had time for him. It would be an hour before the first man would awaken. By then, she’d be long gone.

The man in the sedan cruised to a stop. He had jet black hair and pock marks on his face. He leered at her with eyes that were nearly as black as his hair. His broad shoulders made him look like the lumberjack that had once been on paper towel packages.

Disgusted, Lauren fought the urge to reject him. Then, she reminded herself that cash was all that mattered. She wouldn’t have to endure his company for long. Besides, it was especially satisfying to fleece ones like this, ones who didn’t bother to hide the fact that they were swine.

They settled on a price and Lauren slid onto the bench seat of the sedan. He said little, only glanced at her once or twice.

She watched his hands as he gripped the wheel. She’d learned she could tell a lot about a man from his hands. Soft pudgy hands meant a professional man who had a reputation to uphold. These men were never any trouble. Rough hands, hard hands, meant a man who lived and played tough. This guy had the roughest hands she’d ever seen. You never knew about his sort.

Her thoughts trailed off as they reached the motel. Lauren loathed low rate motels with their peeling paint and garish flashing signs. She wondered how often the sheets were washed and the floors were cleaned.

The man secured a room and drove them to the doorway. Lauren got out of the car and reminded herself she wouldn’t be here long. Hygiene hardly mattered when all she would do was mix a drink and wait for the oaf to fall asleep. She’d be out before the germs had a chance to notice her.

The compact room held a double bed and a four-drawer dresser set under a smudged mirror. A few feet away, a tiny cubicle served as the bathroom. Worn, plaid draperies matched the threadbare bedspread. The air reeked of smoke and no one had bothered to mend cracks that covered the walls and ceiling. Perhaps tremors came too often to make it worthwhile.

She forced herself to look at the man. He leaned against the dresser and studied her. Lauren bit her lip. She found his lack of communication unsettling.

“Well, when do I see what I bought?” he asked, lowering his lids. The effect produced a steely glint.

“I’d like to have a drink first. I always carry wine to make the atmosphere more upscale.” She gestured toward the bathroom. “I’ll get the glasses.”

He stuck out his leg, blocking her path. “I don’t think so.”

Lauren swallowed, fearing this was going to be difficult. “I’m only asking for a drink,” she said.

He studied her from his narrowed gaze. “I’m not thirsty.”

Lauren knew, one day, something like this would happen. So far, she’d been able to convince ardent clients to accept a drink. The implacable tone of the pock-marked man told her sweet talk wouldn’t work.

“I’m only asking for a little romance. If you’re going to be like that, I might have to call this off,” Lauren said.

His blow caught her full in the mouth knocking her onto the carpet. She cursed herself for not being ready for this reaction. Yet, she recovered quickly. Instinct and training had her on her feet in seconds. Her sidekick caught the man full in the thigh, sending him crashing backwards into the doorframe.

He countered by coming at her with both fists. Lauren deftly avoided his punch. He was strong, yet slow and clumsy compared to her lightening kick that buckled his knees.

He went down hard.

As he rose, Lauren took a fighting stance in preparation to defend herself.

His face resembled a thunder cloud. Clearly he’d never expected resistance from this petite bit of fluff. He’d probably beat up plenty of street girls, and took perverse enjoyment in it. With guys like him, it was about dominance and power. Lauren had surprised him by fighting back.

She doubted he’d stop at subduing her and having his way. The steely set of his jaw told her he didn’t appreciate having his fun thwarted. The only way to get back his pride was with her humiliation, and possibly, death.

She blocked his punch to her face and struck him hard in the throat. She made the most of her advantage and kicked out his knee, sending him down with a grunt of pain.

He grabbed at her ankle and she kicked him in the side hoping to keep him down. It seemed to her like she was fighting an ox. Instead of staying down, he grappled onto his good knee and pulled an eight inch knife from his pocket. The lethal blade glinted in the sunlight that seeped through the draperies.

Lauren cringed. She hated knives. Though she had faith in her defense tactics, it was hard to remove a knife without getting cut and cuts were a disability in her profession.

She jumped out of reach as he jabbed at her.

He got to his feet and limped towards her. Thankfully, he pointed the knife straight at her and not curled into his hand like men who knew knife work. Still, if she wasn’t careful, he’d manage to cut. If she survived, she might never work the streets again.

She moved swiftly, sidestepping to pull his knife arm against her shoulder. Using his own weight against him she bent his arm to s***h it backwards across his throat and then down into his stomach in one swift move.

She watched the shock on his face during his last moments of consciousness. He sank to the floor with his hand on his throat in a vain effort to retain his life blood.

Lauren stood over him, watching the liquid seep from his wounds and puddle onto the threadbare carpet. Now that it was over, she felt deep satisfaction. Killing had been fun, watching him die intriguing. She wished she could do it over again. Perhaps she would have a reason to kill again soon.

She used her shirt to wipe her fingerprints off the handle of the knife. She knew better than to linger. Someone might have heard the commotion and called the police.

She went through his pockets quickly and discovered he had less than the hundred dollars he’d promised her. She took what he had and gave him a scornful look on the way out the door. Here was one man who’d never beat up another girl. It had been a pleasure and an honor to take him down.

It was too late for another job. And truthfully, she wasn’t in the mood. She was exhausted from the fight. And though the odds were slim she’d pick up another pervert, she didn’t feel like risking it.

Besides, she couldn’t wait to get home and tell Kathy what had happened.

Kathy would worry about the police. Lauren would assure her that there was nothing to connect her with the killing. No one had seen her with him. And she had no prior convictions or fingerprints on file. She’d be okay. Besides, she’d be moving to another city soon.

She walked the few blocks to where she’d parked her car. It was good to have it back. Sliding inside, she listened to her rap CD. She’d had it for years and it was still her favorite.

As she neared home, she got an uneasy feeling. She couldn’t put her finger on it and decided she was jittery from the fight.

Yet after she parked the car and climbed the stairs, her heart began to thud. Their apartment door was ajar. Kathy would never leave it open at this late hour. Either she’d left in a hurry or there’d been trouble. Either way, something was terribly wrong.