Free Fiction: The Baby Trade part 4 (A Summer Black Serial)

Here's the 4th chapter of my new free serial of hardboiled fiction, starring Summer Black, the woman the streetwalkers of LA call when they have no one else to turn to...

The Baby Trade part 4 (A Summer Black serial)

by Jochem Vandersteen

 

My hands were shaking and my back was sweaty. I was in my car but had to relax myself before I could drive. I was just too worked up to drive safely.

I’d seen a lot of death and violence in the Army, I had even killed there. That was violence from a distance mostly, though. Guns firing, seeing people drop more or less in the distance as a result. Non-personal. Delivering violence like I had just done to Donny was different. Messy. Eye to eye with blood, fear. I did my share of hand-to-hand combat in the Army, but that was during training, not during actual fights. I wasn’t sure where the darkness came from that made me able to do to another human being like what I did to Donny. Maybe it was the rage still deep inside of me about what the johns and pimps did to me when I was still on the streets. Maybe just anger about what assholes like Donny to women.

I took a few deep breaths. I had to focus on getting Charlene back. I had to get to that lawyer.

I took my cell phone and called the number on the business card, dialing *67 in front of the number so the receiving end wouldn’t see my caller ID.

“Ecclestone,” a deep voice answered.

“Hello? This is June White. I heard you’re specialized in adoption?” I’m afraid I’m not that good at coming up with aliases.

“That’s right. Are you looking to adopt?”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Good. I might be able to help you. Visit my office tomorrow morning at nine.”

“Great, I’ll be there,” I said and disconnected.

So, that went easy so far. I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to handle the visit to Ecclestone. I’d probably end up improvising. I do a lot of improvising when I help out old sisters. I’m not really trained for the stuff I do, but I seem to have a knack for it.

I drove home, made a sandwich, drank some water and took a long shower before turning in.



Free Fiction: The Baby Trade part 3 (A Summer Black Serial)

Here's the third chapter of my new free serial of hardboiled fiction, starring Summer Black, the woman the streetwalkers of LA call when they have no one else to turn to...

The Baby Trade part 3 (A Summer Black serial)

by Jochem Vandersteen

 

 

Back home in my apartment I traded my waitress uniform for a short leather skirt, red tank top and stiletto-heeled fuck-me shoes. I filled a sock with a roll of change that I put into a clutch. I applied way too much make-up to complete the look I’d sported for years, plying my trade on the Hollywood streets.

With that look I walked into the sleazy Hollywood bar Tina told me Donnie Brooks had turned into his office of sorts.

I spotted him at the bar, nursing a whiskey. He was easily identified by his expensive leather jacket and the amount of jewelry around his neck and fingers. He dressed the part of his job.

I sat down next to him. He glanced at me. I saw him go over my face, his eyes travelling down to my breasts. He smiled a dirty grin, gold teeth showing.

“Hi sugar, you want a drink?” he asked.

“Sure, Rusty Nail.”

“Coming up.” Brooks ordered my drink.

I took a sip after it was handed to me and told him in a breathy voice, “I hear you’re always looking for talent. You’re Donnie Brooks, right?”

“In the flesh, baby. You’re right. And you sure as hell look mighty talented, sugar.”” He put a hand on my knee. Part of me shuddered, another part of me wanted to break his fingers. The part of me that was buried deeper, the part that I used on all my johns, prevented me from screwing up my plan and just made me smile at him.

“Can I audition?”

“Audition?”

I brought my lips close to his ear and whispered, “Do you want me to suck your dick so I can show you what I can do?”

He almost choked on his drink. “Yeah, yeah sure. Sure baby. Whoo-hoo. You’re one hell of a girl, ain’t ya.”

“Oh yeah, I sure as hell am. Let’s go the john. I will take you all the way to heaven over there.”

I slid down the barstool. Brooks got down so fast you’d think his barstool was on fire. I exaggerated the way my hips moved, making him think I was just the sexiest, horniest woman alive. He was going to be mightily disappointed.

We entered the men’s room. His hands were on my ass as soon as we entered.

“Let’s get in here,” I said and opened a stall’s door. The asshole was already breathing heavily out of anticipation.

Inside the cramped stall I told him to drop his pants. Hurriedly he did. The moment his pants hit his shoes I had a hand on his balls. He smiled. A second later he screamed as I twisted his testicles around. To shut him up I hit him in the head with the coin-filled sock. Dazed he sat down on the dirty toilet floor.

“Huh? What the fuck?” He was barely conscious and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

I swung the sock around in front of his face. “I want to know where Charlene is.”

“Who?”

“Tina’s baby. Where is she?”

“Fuck that, I don’t know what you’re talking about, bitch.”

I hit him again with the sock. I heard his nose break. Blood trickled down his chin. He whimpered like a wounded animal.

I took off my shoe, bringing the stiletto heel close to his left eye. “I already broke your nose. Do you also want me to take out your eye?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“That doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the answer to my question.”

“Relax, relax. Fuck. Man my fucking nose hurts. Okay. I can’t tell you where the kid is. I don’t know.”

I brought the heel closer to his eye. “What do you mean? I know you took the baby.”

“Yeah, yeah. I did. But I sold her to this lawyer guy.”

“What? Which lawyer guy?”

“Let me think,” he said. It turned to be his idea of a distraction. His hand went inside his jacket pocket and came out with a knife.

I slapped the knife out of his hand with my shoe. I kneed him against the chin to punish him. I think he bit his tongue, blood started to seep out of his mouth.

“Don’t try anything cute like that anymore. Just tell me which lawyer.”

He had trouble speaking with his tongue and nose both hurt. I managed to understand he wanted to get a business card from his jacket and hoped I wasn’t going to hurt him before he got that out.

“If it’s not another knife coming out of your jacket you have nothing to worry about.”

Slowly his hand went inside his jacket. I was ready to pounce on him some more, but he was really holding a card in his hand when it came out of his jacket.

I took the card. Marcus Ecclestone, attorney at law, it said. “So let me get this straight. You fucking SOLD that kid to this guy?”

“He doth iwwegaw ado’tiuns. I needeth the munnie.”

“Illegal adoptions, huh? Well, I will have to visit this asshole then. You just stay away from Tina or I will really fuck you up, understand?”

Donny nodded. I told him goodnight and whacked him in the head with the sock again, hard enough for his lights to go out.

I walked out of the toilet stall, into the bar. The barkeeper saw me walk in and seemed to wait for Donny to follow. When he didn’t he just shrugged and decided to focus his attention on my legs all the way until they walked me out the door.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

Fiction: The Baby Trade part 2 (A Summer Black serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Here's the second chapter of my new free serial of hardboiled fiction, starring Summer Black, the woman the streetwalkers of LA call when they have no one else to turn to...

The Baby Trade part 2 (A Summer Black serial)

by Jochem Vandersteen

Tina was leaning against my car when I walked up the parking place. She was smoking a cigarette. I used to smoke too, until I decided if I was going to quit my addictions I’d really quit them, booze and cigarettes included. I really didn’t miss them either, luckily preventing me from becoming one of those ex-smokers that became some kind of smoking Nazi’s, scolding anyone for lighting up in front of them.

“Thanks for the wait,” I told her.

“Thanks for telling me where to wait,” she said.

I grabbed my keys and opened the car door. “Get in, it’s cold.”

She put out her cigarette and sat down in the passenger seat, right next to me.

“So, what’s the story. Why do you need my help?”

“It’s about my baby… A year and a half ago I got pregnant. Busted rubber in combination with being too sick to keep the pill in my stomach. Should I have been working that day? Of course not. My pimp doesn’t tolerate sick days though. He demands I bring home the bacon every day, no matter how I’m feeling.”

“Just as much an asshole as most pimps I know. What’s his name?”

“Donnie Brooks.”

I knew him. “He’s been in the business for a long time. Fucking prick.”

“Yeah… Anyway, I decided to keep the baby. Didn’t want anything from the daddy, wasn’t going to put any effort in convincing a john to take care of the kid or help me out with the money. I tried to combine my work with taking care of my little baby, my dear Charlene, for a few months but decided that wasn’t a good idea. The lifestyle I was leading was leading me straight to hell and I didn’t want Charlene to grow up without a mommy like I did.”

“Good for you. So you quit hooking?”

“Yeah. Kicked the habit. Tried to find a job. Found one too, callcenter work, but I could do that from home so I could take care of Charlene. Donnie wouldn’t put up with it though. He beat me up twice.”

I noticed I clenched my fist. Assholes like that had beaten me up a lot times as well. In the Army they taught me how to fight back though.

“I wouldn’t give in though. I took the fucking beatings and stayed at home with my baby. Then, one day he came in and just took my little girl. I fought him like a tiger but he’s just too big and strong. He took my baby, Summer!”

“Did you go to the cops?”

“How could I? You know what would happen. They know I used to be a hooker. They’d take my baby from me. They wouldn’t believe I’m clean now.”

“I guess you’re right. Sounds better than her being with Donnie, though.”

“He told me he will give her back to me if I start working for him again. I can’t do that… I don’t want to go back to that.”

I squeezed her hand. “That’s brave. What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve heard stories about how you can stand up to the pimps. You’re not scared of them… Can’t you go to Donnie and get my baby back?”

I combed my hair with my fingers. Thought about it. Donnie was a pretty tough and mean sonofabitch, he wouldn’t hand over the baby to me without a fight. That could mean bruises, maybe a broken nose or something for me. Fights are like that. It wouldn’t look good, showing up at work looking like that. I couldn’t allow that baby to stay in his hands though. And I did feel the urge to kick that asshole’s ass. For what he did to Tina, but also for what guys like him did to me in the past. If I wasn’t going to stand up to the guy, who would.

I said, “Sure. Sure, I’ll get Charlene back for you.”

Tina gave me a hug, saying a thousand thank-yous. I just hoped I’d be able to make good on my promise.

TO BE CONTINUED

Fiction: The Baby Trade part 1 (A Summer Black serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

I am proud to start a new free serial of hardboiled fiction, starring Summer Black, the woman the streetwalkers of LA call when they have no one else to turn to...

The Baby Trade part 1 (A Summer Black serial)

by Jochem Vandersteen

 

I’d never seen her before but I made her the second she stepped into the diner. She was a streetwalker, just like I used to be, years ago.

She wore stiletto heels, faded jeans and too much make-up. Her hair had been colored red but there were still some remnants from the previous color she’d been coloring it, a pornstar-shade of blonde. She’d tried to dress down for the occasion, but her entire gait and her prowling eyes gave her away. This was a woman who constantly used her manner to entice men into sex but was also wary of her surroundings because someone out there always might be more interested in slapping the cuffs on her than getting a blowjob.

Before I got clean, before my time with the Army and before waitressing right here in Lowinski’s diner I used to act just like that.

She sat down in a booth. I walked over and said hello.

“What can I get you?”

She peered at the label above my right breast. She made out the name. “Summer?”

“That’s right.”

“Summer Black?”

“Have we met?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, no we haven’t. But I’ve heard of you. I’ve heard you sometimes help out working girls like me when we’re in trouble.””

She was right. After my return from Iraq old friends sometimes asked me to help them when their pimps got a bit too violent, when they owed a dealer more money than they had or sometimes when they just needed some minor medical help. I was loyal to my friends, even though I quit living their destructive lifestyle. Word got around and sometimes I was asked to fix things for a friend of a friend. These ladies needed help sometimes. They couldn’t run to the cops and had little to no family. I’d learned some handy skills in the Army and had lead the same tough life they had. I was glad I could be useful to them sometimes.

“I can’t talk to you now. In half an hour I get my lunch break. I can talk to you then. I’ll get you some pancakes in the meantime. Don’t worry about the bill, I’ve got it covered for you.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot,” she said. “I’m Tina.”

I gave her a nod. “Nice to meet you, Tina.”

I headed back to the kitchen to order the food. The cook, Vincenzo, an Italian guy with a head as bald and smooth as an eight ball and a paunch that showed he appreciated his own cooking told me the pancakes were coming up, even though he felt about that his culinary skills had to be wasted on such a simple dish once again.

“I’m sorry, you’re just not working at a five-star place,” I told him.

“You got that right. I’m not paid like I am neither.”

“I know what you mean,” I told him and left the kitchen.

Michael Lowinski was behind the cash-register. Michael is the owner of the diner, a guy at the south end of sixty with a white handlebar moustache and arms full of tattoos he looks like an old guy you don’t want to mess with.

“Saw you talking to that lady,” he said. “Do you know her?”

“No, I was just being friendly.”

“Right. I’ve seen girls like her before. She’s a hooker, Summer. I’m pretty sure of it.”

Who the fuck was he supposed to be? Sherlock Holmes? How did he figure it out? Or was it just more obvious than I thought, even to someone that hadn’t been in the life.

“You’re kidding me.” Lowinski was unaware of my past and I wanted to keep it that way for now.

“I’ve been around, Summer. I know what a hooker looks like. She might have traded in her fuck me-skirt for jeans, but she can’t hide the attitude. Matter of fact, seems this place is getting to be a favorite hangout for streetwalkers these days. More and more of them seem to pop up in here.”

“Is that right?” I tried to play little Miss Innocence.

“Assamatterafact, they’ve been coming in here ever since you started to work here. You seem to be always giving them a little extra of your time too.” He gave me an inquisitive stare. The kind of stare the cops used to give me.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Mike.” I grabbed the coffeepot. “I think someone needs to have their coffee topped up a bit.”

Lowinski put a hand on my shoulder. “You ever want to tell me something, don’t hesitate to.”

That made me uncomfortable. Michael was a good guy. I hated lying to him. “Sure, I won’t.”

I walked over to an older couple that was having waffles and poured them some more coffee. They told me they appreciated it.

I walked past the booth where Tina was sitting. I eyed Lowinski. He was watching me. Dammit. This was crazy. I was starting to feel like a superhero guarding a secret identity or something.

I brought Tina some coffee and told her softly, “I won’t be able to talk to you right now. Meet me after work at my car. It’s parked in the back, a black Mini Cooper.”

“Okay, sure.”

“Good, the pancakes are still coming up, though,” I told her and walked off again.

I wondered what she needed me to do. This whole thing with Lowinski made me worry about what I’d been doing for the working girls. This way I was never going to really get out of that life. How far was I removed from going back into that lifestyle, back to the drugs, the fast money? Shouldn’t I cut my ties to my past more permanently if I wanted to really lead a new life?

“Hey, Summer! Stop daydreaming! There’s a guy at table five waiting for you to take his order,” Lowinski told me.

I told him I was sorry and headed over to the table.

 

TO BE CONTINUED