Murderville Page 0,43
You gave me this habit . . . people like you led me down this road. You don’t get to look at me like that,” Liberty spat as she snatched her clutch.
Abia knew that Liberty was right, but she had been in the business long enough to notice when one of her girls was headed towards self-destruction. Liberty had only been at the brothel for a couple of months and already she was bringing in more money than even the most experienced girl. Liberty was going on two, sometimes three dates a day, making her the highest earner out of the group. It was good money, but she was going so hard that she would eventually burn out. Most days Liberty only came home to shower before darting right back out the door to meet another client. Her body and mind needed a break. It took a lot of drugs to keep a person flying non-stop the way that Liberty was doing, and Abia could tell from Liberty’s constantly running nose that she had graduated to snorting cocaine. It was Abia’s job to keep the inventory in good condition and Liberty was no exception.
“I’m not judging you, hun, but you need to slow down. The Gentleman’s Ball is coming up soon, and I need you to be at your best for that Liberty,” Abia replied.
“The Gentleman’s what?” Liberty asked in irritation. All she wanted to do was sleep at this point. She hadn’t known that Abia was going to be watching her every move, and she wasn’t feeling the authority that Abia was trying to put on her.
“The ball, Liberty. I’ve been telling you ladies about this since you stepped foot inside this house. It’s the most important event of the year. The men who come to this event make our regular clients look like blue-collar workers. It’s like an auction. Girls get sold to the highest bidder,” Abia explained.
“Like slaves,” Liberty said dismally.
“Like rarities,” Abia shot back. “Some men pay for one night . . . they fly out and leave their wives at home so that they can enjoy a single night of pleasure . . . but some of the men pay to keep you long term. Those men are so rich that you won’t have to lie on your back another day of your life. They spend big money, and I can’t have you walking in there with bags under your eyes from these sleepless, drug-filled rendezvous. So like I said . . . slow down before you crash and burn.”
ELEVEN
WILLOW SAT IN THE LARGE STADIUM AND tears of joy filled her eyes as she looked at the sea of square hats. It was a significant day in her life . . . it was the day that her son, A’shai, would receive his degree. Her heart swelled with pride as she blew him a kiss. A’shai gave her a charming wink and then held up his hand giving her a sign that only the two of them shared . . . a hand gesture that meant ‘I Love You’.
“I am so proud of that boy,” Willow stated to Baron who sat to her right.
“Me too. Today is a big day . . . it’s his day,” Baron replied.
The prestigious couple held hands as they admired their son for his tenacity and drive. Willow knew that A’shai would do something great with his life. She had connected with him from the very first time she lay eyes on him. She was well aware of the life that he had come from because they shared a common past; that made this day even more joyous. A’shai had done quite alright for himself. He had defied the odds.
When his name was called, Willow stood to her feet excitedly, clapping and smiling with class.
A’shai accepted his honor and then walked over to his mother to plant a kiss on her cheek. “This is for both of us,” he whispered in her ear. Willow had urged him to pursue an education more than anyone else in his life and had helped him see it through until the end. She was his biggest supporter and he paid homage to her by sharing his greatest accomplishment with her.
She gripped his face and kissed his cheek before he walked back to his seat.
After the ceremony Willow and Baron greeted their son with love. A’shai was beaming from ear to ear. His usual serious demeanor was overshadowed by the triumph he felt.
“Congratulations, son,” Baron