Traffic

Chapter Ten

Walking the streets near two in the morning, there was little noise. A few women stood around, some smoking, others talking quietly in small groups. Kelly, however, was walking up and down the sidewalk, getting anxious as to if she was going to get a date that night or not. She feared the punishment Mr. P had set in store if she didn't get a date and didn't feel like being starved for another week. So, she paced, listening to the clicking of her own shoes against the pavement as she waited.

Finally, as two thirty came around, a car pulled up slowly. Kelly saw no other girls approaching it, and a few yawning, so she hurried forward, leaning toward the car window and resting her elbows on the edge, "Hey, handsome, come here looking for some Candy?"

"How much?" the man replied.

"For two hundred, I'm all yours."

The man nodded toward the passenger side of his car and Kelly smiled, going around and getting in. She shifted in her seat so she was facing the man, "So, how do you like it—"

She was cut off when the man pulled out a badge and held it up. Startled, she froze, then tried to exit the car, but he had locked the door.

"You're under arrest for illegal prostitution in a residential area."

Kelly groaned, re-adjusting herself so she was facing forward. She pulled her buckle on and crossed her arms over her chest, frustrated.

The ride to the police precinct was silent and once inside, she was thrown in a holding cell. Once the door was locked, she began to panic. It was nearing three o'clock and in a few short hours, Mr. P would want her back and his money delivered to his bedside table.

"Shit," Kelly cursed under her breath as she yet again began to pace back and forth, "Mr. P is really gonna let me have it this time. Shitshitshit."

A few minutes later, the door was re-opened and Kelly was handcuffed.

"Wait—what are you doing to me? Where are we going?"

"You were overheard and now the detectives want to ask you a few questions."

"What for? I didn't say or do anything wrong."

"Like I said, you were overheard and they want to talk to you."

Kelly shut her mouth before she said something that would get her arrested for worse than prostitution. She was led into an interrogation room and the door shut. Across the table from where she now sat was a man in a suit with a couple folders in front of him.

"Hello, Candy, is it?"

"Yeah...who are you?"

"I'm detective O'Riley. I'd just like to ask you a few questions. An officer on guard overheard you saying something about a 'Mr.P'?"

"Yeah...so?"

"Who is that? Is he your father, brother, friend...?"

"He's my Pimp, is that what you wanna know? He sells me out once a week if I bring in enough, more often if I don't. He pimps out me and this girl, Vanessa. She's new, though, so she doesn't get the same treatment I do. Stupid bitch doesn't learn—"

"So, Mr. P lets you girls sell yourselves and takes the money in exchange for what?"

"Food, shelter, free sex."

"Miss—"

"They call me Candy."

"Okay...Candy...How long have you worked for Mr. P?"

"Bout six months now, I think. I've lost track of exactly how long."

"This situation is very concerning to us, Miss Candy. We would like you to write your statement of how you came to work for Mr. P, his real name, if you know it, and the address at which you have been staying. Can you do that for us?"

Kelly took in a slow breath and tried to calm her heart rate. She feared what Mr. P would do to her if he knew where she was at that moment, and what he definitely would do to her if she went back.

"Miss, Candy, I notice you have scars on your left hand. Does Mr. P hurt you in any physical way?"

"Nah, those are scars of the trade," Kelly said, clenching her left hand into a fist to hide the scars from her knife wounds.

"So, the men you—sleep with—they hurt you physically?"

"Look, it's not like that, okay? Some of us aren't always happy with who we spend time with or whatever, it's self-inflicted, okay? Can I go now, unless you have any real charges against me?"

"As soon as you write your statement, you may go."

"Gimme a pen," Kelly demanded.

She quickly wrote as believable a lie as she could, signing it, "—Candy," and dropping the pen to the tabletop. The policeman had no other reason to hold her since she had cooperated, so she was allowed to leave.

"One last question, miss," the detective asked. Kelly stopped, but didn't turn around, "What is your real name?"

Kelly smirked, "You're so smart...you figure it out."tHwS