***.

Shortie's pimp stick was truly remarkable. The shaft was made of a sleek black wood that was polished to a shine and capped with silver at the foot. The ball-head was an intricately detailed skull, mouth cast open in a never heard cry, cast in the same silver as the foot and roughened with black in the right places. A serpent snaked part way down the shaft, its scales cast in such a way that they reflected the light and glittered.

The swing of this intricate and slightly macabre stick was steady and in time with Shortie's steps, hitting the carpeted floor with a soft thud at regular intervals and raising a small cloud of dust each time it did so.

One dirty, warped door along the equally filthy hallway creaked open at the sound of Shorties approach. It was known to all that occupied the rooms along this hall. Well, all but one, and it was at the door of this particular young boy that Shortie stopped. Behind her the door that had been opened slammed closed and frantic whispering sounded from within the room it hid.

A smile pulled at the corner of the young pimps mouth.

Slowly, the gaping visage of the skull was raised and tapped against the door in three wide spaced knocks that reverberated through out the hallway.

Isa swung open the door, his hair tousled and eyes rimmed red from sleep.
"Oh, hey Shortie." He didn't seem at all surprised to see her. Indeed, he should have been expecting her as she had promised she would come.
"Good evening Isa" Shortie gave a curt nod of her head in greeting. "I believe it is about time we spoke. May I come in?"

She gave the courtesy of asking, but would come in regardless of what he answered. It was, after all, her building. She smiled stiffly when Isa stepped back to let her in, moving to the far side of the room as if she required such a distance.
Without aiming to intimidate, it seemed that Shortie had. "Would you like to sit down?" The words rolled off Isa's tongue awkwardly. Was he nervous? It'd make sense if he was, she reasoned, he was in the mother-house of the most notorious group of prostitutes this city had ever known. How lucky of him.

"I hope you found it comfortable overnight" Shortie's concern for his well-being was false, she had a long night ahead of her and just wanted to get down to business as quickly as possible. With the new ones though, you had to be gentle, polite, manipulating. It paid off later.
She leaned heavily on her pimp-stick, making her way to rickety chair on the opposite side of the room and sitting in it cautiously, wary of the fact that it was likely to fall through at any given moment. Her free hand held a neatly stapled sheaf of papers with Isa's name marked at the top.

Isa sat upon the bed in the middle of the room, facing her.
"The best night I've had in a while I guess." He shrugged, slipping into the comfortability Shortie forced upon him.
"That is good to hear. I wouldn't want any of my children to be uncomfortable"
For the first time since entering the room, she let her line of sight drift from the boy and onto the papers that were now on her lap.

"I wonder, Isa, if you have yet figured out what this place is?"

"Yeah..." The youth's face became defensive "Is that why you wouldn't tell me? 'Cause you were taking me to a whorehouse?"
His emphasis on the last word made Shortie's lip twitch, but she bit back the smile. He was ever so naive.
"I wanted to see if you would work it out on your own. And I didn't want to scare you away." Her eyes slid smoothly back up to his and locked onto them.

"Beside that, I'm sure that you would have required time to think over your future, which you have, no doubt, done by now" Her voice was monotonous, but her eyes were full of expectation.
"You are free to leave whenever you wish"

Although the offer was made, she didn't expect him to go anywhere. What was there outside for him except for the streets? Cold, danger and hunger? If he stayed here then he would be safe. He would be cared for. He would make friends.
So she didn't worry at all when he hesitated.
And she didn't mind when with a tone that Shortie thought was almost regretful he said what she knew he would.
"I'm not going anywhere."

"Then you agree to work for me" The statement was almost too blunt, even in Shortie's femininely soft tone.
"And that means we need to discuss your, uh... application form" Her fingers tightened on the papers in her hand.
Isa furrowed his brow in frustration "Whats wrong with my application? I filled in as much as I could."

Shortie flicked through the pages with her thumb, looking at the blank spaces. "I can see that. But we need to talk about what you couldn't fill in"
When she looked up she saw that he was watching expectantly, so she cleared her throat and continued.
"Well, I see you left the question about sexual experience blank...."
The sentence hung unfinished in the air between them. Isa shifted uncomfortably on the bed chewing the inside of his cheek. Shortie raised her eyebrows at him. She really wished he would hurry, she did have places to be tonight.

"I uhh... Well not long before you found me I... I was raped, ok!" The words came tumbling from his lips almost too quickly to understand. Shortie sighed, but let him continue "I didn't think I needed to add it 'cause he made me do it." Isa closed his eyes and took a deep breath, becoming visibly calmer.
A shadow passed over Shortie's eyes, making them unreadable yet somehow menacing. She cleared her throat and her expression shifted to one of sympathy.
"But nothing other than that?" Her voice was gentler than it had ever been around one of her whores, and she supposed she should have thought twice about showing any softness, but could not think to regret it.

"No, that was all" There was shame in his voice, and something else that Shortie couldn't quite pick up on. "Was there anything else?" He leaned forward on the bed, as if to see the papers from such a distance away.
Shortie looked at him blankly. "Your name"
His eyes darted to hers, panic evident in his features. "That's my real name, I swear!"
She bit back a chuckle. "I don't doubt it, but you can hardly go around using that name to sell yourself." She looked at the youth thoughtfully before adding, "You need something else... and we have a special way of choosing names here. I need you to answer a couple of questions for me."
The boy nodded, hardly a hint of expression crossing his features.
It must have been strange to him, everything happening so quickly, his life changing so rapidly. Ah, but that's business.

"What was the name of your first pet?" She inquired, a summoned pen in her hand, poised above the application form.
He let a small noise, almost like a squeak. "We got a puppy a few years ago, we called him Patch... We haven't had any other animals after him, I was scared to ask after my Dad got drunk one night and slit his throat, right in front of me cause I didn't finish washing the dishes in time. He made me sleep with him in my room for a week." Tears escaped his eyes as Shortie looked on.
A whistle of air passed through her lips, and she raised her eyebrows. "Yes, well, that's very nice. Now, the second question. What was the name of the first street you lived on?"

Isa blinked back the tears and swallowed, surprised by the woman's bluntness. "That would be Nightingale street, I always thought it was pretty. Is that my name then?"
Shortie scribbled something on the paper and stood up, a final and satisfied smile upon her lips.
"Yes. Welcome to the family, Patch Nightingale."