"We know where your parents live, too," Armando lied. "Don't think we won't torture and kill them if you ever tell anyone who you are."
At the end of the third week, the small door opened, and Maggie started to cry. A bright flashlight was aimed at her face, and she recoiled from the painful beam of light. "How you doin', baby?" a man cooed. "Don't worry; I'm gonna help ya now."
Maggie was too distressed, and tired, to be relieved. She hoped that by "helping her," the man meant he would shoot her in the head.
"Come on, baby. Give me your hands," the man said softly.
With great effort, Maggie raised her hands into the air. The man pulled her out and gently laid her on the mattress. He bent and picked up a ratty blanket from the floor and covered her with it. Then he sat on the side of the bed and stroked her hair.
"Trinity," he said in a calm voice. "Bring me a glass of water for our Maggie."
He held the glass as Maggie took small sips of water. Maggie grimaced when she tried to open her eyes for the first time; the light was too painful to handle. Finally, with much effort, she opened her eyes. There, sitting next to her, was Rock.
She flinched.
Rock leaned closer to her. "No, baby, it's OK. Rock is here to take care of you now," he assured her.
Rock instructed Trinity to fill the bathtub with warm water. Then he gingerly carried Maggie into the bathroom and placed her in the tub. The heat of the water began to soften her stiffened muscles. Rock massaged her arms and legs. She let herself relax with his powerful, gentle hands rubbing away weeks of being cramped at the bottom of the box.
"Go make somethin' nice for Maggie to eat," he told Trinity.
As he rubbed Maggie's neck, he looked into her face. Her eyes smoldered with intensity. Rock was the first person in three weeks to show Maggie any compassion, and this tactic made her love him. Maggie felt her belly flutter as she watched him intently. She opened her arms, and he leaned over and hugged her close to him. "That's it, baby. Rock is here to take care of you now. Do you know how old you are?"
"I'm eighteen," she answered, wanting to please him.
"How did you get here?" he continued.
"I came here on my own. I love it here," she recited.
"Where do you live, baby?" he asked in a sultry voice.
"With my boyfriend," she said affectionately.
"Who is that, baby? Who is your boyfriend?" he sang.
"Armando is my boyfriend," she said with a pang of guilt, as if she was betraying Rock.
Rock saw that all-too-familiar look. "That's right, baby. But, me, I'm the one you really love," he said sweetly.
"Yes," Maggie agreed.
Rock was proud to have wrecked another girl, especially one as gorgeous as Maggie was. He was delighted to think of all the money she would make for him. But Rock wasn't aware of Maggie's ability to persevere through the most hideous circumstances.
Chapter Forty-Four.
After Maggie had a few days of rest, Armando told her that she would start working the next night. "Trinity is gonna take ya out and get ya started. She's gonna teach ya how to lure men in and how much money you should get."
Maggie, no longer willing to argue, nodded. "Sure, Armando, whatever you want."
Armando smiled to himself. Another bitch wrecked, he thought. This is just too easy.
Maggie knew that everything happening to her under Armando and Rock's control was just as wrong as all the things John William and Myles had done to her. She also knew that Thelma had Seth at her home, and suspected that Armando would keep true to his word and kill the boy if she didn't do everything he told her to do. She had been having sex against her will since she was kidnapped. She hated every minute of it, but over time, she'd come to accept it as a way of life. It's just what she did, she told herself. It was not who she was.
That night, on Kensington Avenue under the train tracks of the El, Maggie realized that being a streetwalker wasn't easy. They stood in the cold in high heels and short skirts. They were forced to flirt and smile at all the scum-sucking maggots who happened to look their way. Maggie was intrigued by the prostitutes who fought over customers, and she gawked at the strung-out drug addicts who oozed onto the streets from small alleys with nothing on their minds but the next fix.
"OK, this guy walking toward us. He's a regular. I want ya to smile at him really pretty and ask if he wants to go on a date. Understand?" Trinity pressed.
As the man approached, Maggie plastered a fake smile on her face. "Hello, sir. Would you like to go on a date?"
"Ha! What's with the sir shit? Trin, who ya got here, Mary fucking Poppins?" the scuzzy man yapped. "Sure, honey, I'll go on a date wit' cha."
"What are ya lookin' for?" Trinity asked him.
"With this little hottie? How much for a regular?" he asked.
"We got a special tonight since she's new and all. Fifty bucks," Trinity said confidently. "Ya know that's a fuckin' steal, too. Just look at her."
The man rubbed his chin and took a long visual drink of Maggie. "Yeah, OK. But she better be good for that kind of money."
"Yeah, she'll be good," Trinity promised.
Trinity leaned into Maggie. "Take him back into the weeds in that open lot. Keep walking 'til you see a small path on your left. Follow the path and you'll see a mattress. Make sure he uses a condom; we don't need no pregnant bitches 'round here. Do him and get back here fast."
Walking through the tall weeds with the stranger, Maggie realized that this was the first time since John William had kidnapped her that she was roaming free. Little did she know that Armando was watching her every move after she left Trinity's side. They never let new girls go off on their own for the first couple of months, not until they could be trusted.
Once they reached the mattress, Maggie turned and looked at the man, waiting for instructions. "What the fuck are you looking at? Let's go; get undressed," he told her.
Maggie quickly undressed, shivering in the cold night air, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. "You're kiddin' me, right? What the fuck are you waiting for? Lay down on the damn mattress," he said, losing his patience with her inexperience.
He stood over her and quickly slipped on a condom. The cartel also required the men to wear condoms, but only to keep their property disease free.
"You're sure a beauty," the john panted, once he was on top of her.
When he finished, he stood quickly, took out fifty dollars, and threw it at her. By the time she got back out on Kensington Avenue, Trinity had another customer waiting for her. "Give me the money," Trinity stated. "Take this next guy back. He wants a blow job. Make sure you get twenty-five bucks when you're done."
Maggie's first night was horrid. She serviced someone every forty-five minutes. She'd done all the same things with men during her captivity, but here, in the open, she felt like a creepy-crawly bug in the night. When it was time to go back to the house, Armando came to walk with her.
"You did pretty good tonight," he said, taking the money from Trinity and counting it on the way back to the car. "Tomorrow, I wanna see ya do better. It costs a lot of money to keep ya happy. Ya already owe Rock ten thousand bucks for buying you out of that whorehouse you were livin' in," he explained.
"But no one told me I had to pay Rock back. I didn't even know how much money he had to pay," Maggie stated sheepishly. She had no idea how she would ever be able to repay ten thousand dollars. Then she spoke without thinking.
"Maybe my parents would pay Rock for me. I could call them and ask," she offered, with a glimmer of hope that she could speak to them again.
But as the words passed Maggie's lips, she realized it was the wrong thing to say.
Chapter Forty-Five.
Armando remained silent for the remainder of the ride. Slamming the car into park, he bolted to the passenger door and flung it open. He reached in and yanked Maggie out by her arm. As they entered the house, the other hookers stopped and watched as Armando pushed Maggie up the stairs, berating her the entire way. They all knew she was going to get it from him.
Up in the bedroom, Armando took off his belt and started whipping Maggie. "What the fuck did I teach you, girl? Huh? How old are ya?" he screamed.
"Eighteen," she managed through sobs.
"Who do you live with?" he yelled.
"My boyfriend," she blubbered.
"Take your fucking clothes off," he said, seething.
Maggie practically ripped her clothes off. His anger made her anxiety skyrocket; she didn't want to go back into the box in the closet. "I'm sorry, Armando. I shouldn't have said what I did. I know that I'm staying here with you. Please don't hit me anymore," she whined.
"Get on the fuckin' bed," he roared.
He beat her with his belt until she passed out. Then he waited until she woke up and had sex with her to make certain she knew he was the boss.
The next night, she was on the streets again with Trinity when a teenage boy with bloodshot eyes, strung out on drugs, approached them. "Hey man, you got any money you can spare?" he asked.
"No! We ain't got no money for your sorry ass. Keep on walkin' before I knock the shit out of you," Trinity threatened.
As the boy walked away, Maggie stood staring at Trinity in wonder. "Who the hell are you eyeballin', girl?" Trinity demanded.
"No one," Maggie said, dropping her gaze to the ground.
"Listen," Trinity said. "You gotta learn to protect yourself out on the streets. People 'round here know I don't take shit from no one. I don't care who you are. You ain't gonna survive out here by bein' nice. So you need to learn to get tough, or these motherfuckers will eat you alive. You understand me?"
"Yeah, I understand. How long have you been a...doing this?" Maggie questioned.
"What? You were gonna call me a hooker? Well, that's what I am, and so are you. I've been out here for a lot of years. Been 'round long enough to know that there ain't no body gonna take care of you but you. Just like you, I had to learn how to survive out here. Ain't nobody gonna teach it to ya, either. Gotta learn it for yourself," Trinity said with pride.
Trinity's words of wisdom left Maggie feeling alone and unprepared to face life on the streets. Maggie had hoped that over time, Trinity would grow to like her, but there were no signs that Trinity felt anything but obligation to keep Maggie with her. It was her job.
Maggie decided to be more observant of how the other prostitutes acted. She listened to the things they said and watched them chase off men who wanted sex for nothing or tried to rob them. It appeared as though most of the girls had a sixth sense for the men who would cause them trouble. Maggie worried that she would never fully understand how to deal with the dangers of being on the street every day.
For the remainder of January, Trinity set up all of Maggie's tricks. Trinity had Maggie working continuously, giving regular sex as often as possible, in order to earn the maximum amount of money. Because of this, Armando and Rock were quite pleased with the work Trinity was doing, and this made her happy. She had always wanted to be in charge of the girls, and Maggie was her stepping-stone to becoming the boss on the streets. This title, given only by Rock, would bring special privileges and power.
Maggie, on the other hand, was exhausted. She felt weird cooing at men as they drove by. Her life was degrading. But she didn't know how to escape without getting herself and others killed. So Maggie did and said everything she was told. But inside, there was a slow burn, a desire for liberation. She longed to see her family again and fantasized about their reunion. She wanted to be returned to life as she knew it before John William had taken her from the mall.
Over time, Armando began to trust Maggie, allowing her to roam the house freely, as the other girls did. The house was a total shit hole, the armpit of the earth. Right inside the front door was a large, open room that was once a formal living room. The chandelier and sconces were long gone, but gaping holes in the plaster revealed where they once hung. Two floor lamps lit the gloomy room. Instead of furniture, there were old, worn-out mattresses where the girls partied and slept. A wide hall led to the main living area. This room had leather beanbags and recliners reserved for the men who ran the house. The girls were prohibited from sitting on them or even entering the room without being invited.
To the right of the front entrance was the kitchen. The cabinets and refrigerator were secured with chains and padlocks to keep the girls from eating whenever they wanted to. The girls were provided with one meal a day. One of Rock's men supervised a couple of the girls to put out food. The girls found their other meals on the streets by asking johns for a slice of pizza or occasionally buying a hot dog from a street vendor. Just off the kitchen was an old laundry room where Rock had installed a shower. All twelve girls used it; the upstairs bathrooms were off-limits.
When Maggie was in the house with the other prostitutes, she made it a point to keep to herself. She didn't like the other girls. They were hard and callous to each other. She understood their anger, and felt much the same, but she couldn't understand why they took it out on one another. As much as she wanted an ally, she didn't trust any of them. They were constantly fighting over men, cigarettes, and drugs. These arguments often turned into fistfights and hair pulling, which broke out at a moment's notice.
While the others fought, Maggie found a quiet corner in their living space and thought about Seth. She wondered if he was OK and if Thelma showed him any kindness. Rock visited the house where Maggie lived several times a week, and she was tempted to ask him about Seth, but she knew better. Rock and his men told the girls what they wanted them to know. She had learned that asking questions was a sign of insubordination.
By early February, Armando allowed Maggie to walk the streets alone. On her first night out, she wandered down Kensington Avenue, smiling at men and asking them if they needed a date. Men were attracted to her, and she had no problem earning her nightly quota. Because she was able to lure men in without much effort, she only offered hand jobs, and no one at the house was the wiser because she was able to do double the number of men to make up the difference in money. In a short time, Maggie became the most desired harlot on Kensington Avenue.
Then, on her travels up and down Kensington Avenue during her second week alone, Maggie noticed something that made her heart soar with hope. It was a sign at Kensington and Indiana Avenues; she followed the arrow and within minutes, she was standing in front of the McPherson Square Free Library.
This was the first time in a very long time that Maggie had something to look forward to. Her biggest problem was how to sneak away long enough to spend time at the library without being caught. She'd figure something out, she told herself. No matter what happened to her, it was worth the risk.
Chapter Forty-Six.
It wasn't long before Trinity viewed Maggie as her strongest competition. Her temperament toward Maggie turned foul overnight. Rock had yet to make Trinity the boss on the streets, and Trinity's competitiveness spurred her to put Maggie down as often as possible.
"Listen, bitch! I showed you how to make money on these here sidewalks. You know damn right well who my regular customers are, and I expect you to back the fuck off my johns," Trinity told her. Several other hookers were watching, waiting for a fight.
"I'm sorry, Trinity. It's not my fault. I haven't even offered to go on dates with them. Your regulars have been asking me. If they're asking, I can't refuse. If Armando or Rock found out I turned a john down, you know what they'd do to me," Maggie explained, hoping for understanding.
"What Armando or Rock do to you ain't nothin' compared to what I'm gonna do to ya if you keep stealing my johns," Trinity spat. Then she shoved Maggie in the chest, knocking her to the ground, and spit on her as she strutted toward an approaching car in her "fuck me" pumps, swinging her round hips from side to side. She leaned into the open car window to show the man her voluptuous cleavage and smiled with all the teeth left in her rotted mouth. "Hey, baby, you wanna go on a date with Trinity?" she breathed.
"Is Trinity that girl over there?" the man asked, pointing at Maggie.
"No, motherfucker, I'm Trinity," she said in a shrill voice.
"Oh, well then, no. I want a date with that little vixen," he told her and pulled his car up to where Maggie was standing.
Maggie looked over at Trinity nervously.
The man looked her up and down. "How much?"
"I only give hand jobs. Fifteen bucks," Maggie told him.
"Only hand jobs? What the fuck is with that? I was looking for regular sex," he said, annoyed.