The Prostitute And The Player (Watty Awards 2011)

Chapter Three

After the funeral and a proper burial service, I head over to work. Now, since Maria was gone, I’d have to work twice as hard.

It was raining, but there was one man who was relentless to go outside anyways and ‘get what he’d paid for.’ He was rather rough and harder than I was used to. Usually every other boy felt sorry for us, and tried to go easier, but every once and a while, there was a rougher one who didn’t care how he got it, but he was pushy. “I said, come on little girl.” He was cupping my face through the relentless rain. It hurt, worse than anyone else before.

So bad that it brought tears to my eyes. The rain really wasn’t going to stop pouring. No one was going to save me. When I didn’t please him, the man whose name I didn’t even know, slapped me across the face. “Bastard!” That earned me one more long, stinging slap in the face. He shoved me up against the brick wall, scraping my legs and arms in the process.

Suddenly, a car appears in the alleyway, tires screeching, headlights blaring their absolute brightest. I notice the skinny, tall, muscular built boy coming my way to be Jake. Oh god, thank you. In his rage, he doesn’t even noticed that he’s shoved me down on the cement ground, but I didn’t care as long as it separated me from that pig. I hear the throwing of punches and blood is being shed. The man is potentially unconscious now, so Jake picks me up gently off the ground and hauls me to the car.

“Are you okay-” I go to question, but he cuts me off, passionately kissing me. Boy, this kid doesn’t waste any time.

“Am I okay?” He asks with bitter laughter, “You could’ve been killed!” He slammed his fist down on the steering wheel, rain dripping down his gorgeous face. “Please, quit this nonsense. Your only friend is dead.” Wow, that stung, but it was true; he was right.

“O-okay, I’ll stop.” I say, whimpering into my seat, watching the rain fall down as we make it to my apartment. “Caleb?” I question, throwing my jacket down, Jake right behind me because he wanted to spend the night. I agreed only because I knew he’d calm down if he was watching over me for the night. I knew Caleb and him would get along just fine as well.

“I’m in here!” He calls from the kitchen. I laugh hysterically and Jake joins me when we step into the kitchen and there’s flour everywhere. On the ceiling, on the floor, on the table, anywhere you could imagine, including covering my little brother completely so that he resembled the Pillsbury Doughboy. “What’s so funny?” I giggle and bring down the toaster so he can look at his white covered body.

“Go wash up, sport.” I call, wiping a bit of flour off of his nose. I smile at Jake whose still baffled by the mess in the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. Wanna quit looking at me like that and go grab a mop in the closet?” I smirk at him, but he does as I say. Before he comes back, I peek around the corner, grabbing a pile of the flour in my hands, hiding behind the wall.

“Allie?” He questions, scratching his head. With a devious grin, I appear from behind the wall and throw the flour in his face, covering him with it. He looks dumfounded for a few seconds, and then smiles, picking up some of his own. “Oh you’ll pay for that!” He then throws it at me, the flour coating my face. It feels strange.

Running through the whole apartment, by the time we’re done cleaning and messing around, both of us are covered from head to toe in the baking supply. “If only you could see yourself!” I cant control my laughter.

“No, if only you could see yourself.” He smirks and comes to hug me, but I disappear into the bathroom, turning on the warm water. Our rain soaked clothes had made sure the flour stuck extra well to our clothing, so I knew we’d have to take showers, but I knew there wouldn’t be enough water to give us separate showers.