Hustler

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“You coming with to check on your little boyfriend?”

McKenzie stared at Davide as he stood in the doorway of her room. She snorted and went back to halfheartedly watching The Big Bang Theory.

“Want me to help dig his grave?”

“Oh, cheer up, buttercup. I’m sure he’s...fine.”

Mckenzie raised her brows at Davide doubtfully. She stared at the wall behind him and tried to ignore her prickling curiosity and worry. She really wanted to go make sure Kiran was okay. She really wanted to see him. She ached to.

The way she felt about him - this yearning desire to be near him and take care of him....she wasn’t sure it was so much an attraction to him, though she definitely felt that to an extent; she needed to protect him. She didn't want to see him fall into the hell she’s been stuck in. She wanted to save him.

That urge to follow the guardian angel role ebbed her groan at Davide.

“Fine,” she huffed, disguising her anxiousness by groggily pushing herself up from the couch. She flipped off the television, and turned to find herself alone again.

McKenzie huffed again and fought the urge to let herself drop and sink back down into the cushions. She swiped a bottle of cold water from the fridge before heading out of her room, taking a gulp to ease her racing mind.

Shutting the door, she stared blankly to her right.

Without his regular paying him a visit, currently busy with a new toy, Jamie Rousseau seeked refuge outside his room, elbows perched on the handrail to support his weight, palm under his chin. He gazed up at the night sky, his chest feeling empty without Chuck’s company. Jamie wondered how he was spending his night, who Chuck was curled up with instead of him.

The thought of Chuck with someone else made his stomach turn and a scowl overtook his dry lips.

He straightened his back, murmuring to himself as he pulled a pack of smokes from his back pocket. He took a long drag from the cigarette and twisted around, retreating back into his room. The door slammed behind him. McKenzie saw his figure crouch by the window. A cloud of smoke spilled out through the screen.

How someone could ever fall in love with Chuck was beyond inconceivable to her. Somehow Jamie managed to do it in just two months.

She turned on her heel and made her way down the stairs to Davide’s awaiting car. He hissed at her for taking so long, snapping obscenities under his breath. Truthfully, he wasn't angry with her. He had a bad feeling in his stomach. Just the thought of Chuck was enough to make his blood boil.
He didn't even want to think about what he was putting that boy through for the last twelve hours.

Davide doubted - and dreaded to know if Kiran even made it one hour.

Anxiety went to an all time high for both McKenzie and Davide when they arrived to what looked to be an empty farmhouse. Not a single speck of light shined through the windows, darkness filled each room - and with the time only being half past eight, Davide knew Chuck couldn't have been asleep.

Davide put the car in park and stepped out to shift stares between the vacant house and the foreboding barn.

“Is he even home?”

Turning his back to the buildings, Davide answered with a gesture to Chuck’s parked pick-up.

“Better be.”

McKenzie sat at the edge of her seat, sticking her head out her open window. She felt her stomach tighten, staring at the barn. She shared an anxious look with Davide but neither said a word.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and searched in his recent calls for Chuck's name. The line rang but Davide got a robotic female voice at the other end instructing him to ‘leave a message after the beep’.

He tried to number again, and receiving the same results, he continued redialed, this time heading towards the barn.

McKenzie was left alone in the car by herself.

A rhythmic buzzing led Davide into the barn but no one stood waiting for him. It was eerily dark and musty. Moonlight stretched across the length of the room. Davide’s eyes scanned the surroundings, ears honing in on the vibrating phone.

They both settled on one of the filing cabinets near the main entrance, the screen shining dimly. Davide hung up once he reached the voicemail.

He walked to the center of the room, to the hidden door that led to the underground dungeon, tapping his foot against the hollow floor. Nothing. Then the shuffle of feet running up the steep wooden stairway.

The floor opened up and Chuck’s smile faltered at Davide.

“Oh,” he frowned, “Thought you were someone else - is it time already?”

“Where’s Kiran?” Davide asked brutely, stepping back as Chuck joined him, dropping the door shut.

“In the house.”

“Alive?” Davide huffed under his breath, feet following Chuck’s. The grin on Chuck’s face was unsettling. McKenzie watched silently from the car, no words or attention sent her way.

Chuck went on to somewhat answer his dear old friend.

“I really like this kid - what's his name? Kiran? Real sweet, if you know what I mean.” He chuckled darkly as they passed through the front doors of his home. He flicked the lights on and Davide instantly began eyeing the living room.

Brows furrowing at no sight of Kiran, he shifted a look up the stairs, positioned just feet away from the main entrance.

He regarded Chuck disdainfully. “Right, yeah - where is he?”

Chuck continued on.

“I mean it. He's really fucking good. Best I've had in awhile. How much?”

The question made Davide tense. He stared emotionlessly at Chuck, though he felt slightly - well, I'll just use the word ‘angry’.

He knew what Chuck meant.

“He's not for sale,” he answered shortly, pushing on towards the staircase. “Where is he?”

“I'd give you a pretty penny,” Chuck pressed in a southern accent, a gleam to his smirk. Seeing it wasn't swaying his friend’s mind and instead watching Davide saunter through the swinging doors to his right, Chuck sighed with annoyance.

He tailed it behind Davide into the kitchen.

Chuck snapped out, “He's not down here - I'll tell you where he is if you promise me you'll consider the deal. I really, really would like to have him.”

“Well so would I,” Davide hissed.

“But you said so yourself he's a little shit. Wouldn't this be a win-win? I take that boy off your hands and put him into my bed. I'm happy, you're happy.”

“Maybe, but I'm not in any position to just be giving him away. I know you want him, but I need him or else my business is dead and so am I.”

“Will you at least consider it?”

Davide went quiet in thought and ultimately nodded.

“Maybe. Now where the fuck is he?”

Sucking air in through his teeth, Chuck tipped a look upwards.

“My room - he hasn't woken up yet.”

Davide shoved passed him, booting it through the revolving door.

“Well, why the hell not? What did you do to him?”

“Oh, y’know...” He followed Davide up the carpeted staircase. “He kinda woke up when I was fucking him. He was freaking out so I gave him a couple doses. That was five hours ago. Been a little unresponsive since.”

Davide stopped dead in his tracks. The regret of coming here always catches up with him too quickly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Chuck gave him a push to keep walking.

“I'm sure he's fine. He's breathing. End of the hall, straight back.”

Davide almost kicked the door open. The master bedroom was dark, but he quickly made out the bed in the center of the room and the lump under the covers. He turned on the lamp and saw Kiran lying with his back to him. Almost identical sight to what he had walked in on this morning when he first found that Kiran wasn't in the best shape.

His hair was wet from what Davide could assume was a recent bath. The stains of blood no longer plagued his face and hairline. All his cuts had been cleaned and disinfected.

Davide pressed his index and middle finger to Kiran’s neck, feeling a slow but present pulse. He knelt to cup Kiran’s face, his thumb gripped the other side of his chin and gently shook Kiran's head side to side.

He was content to hear the nearly inaudible groan Kiran whimpered out.

Pushing his fingers to his temple, trying to suppress his impending headache, Davide sighed to Chuck.

“Well this is a first - you didn't kill someone I told you to save. I appreciate that.” Davide pulled a baggie from his jacket pocket and tossed Chuck’s usual payment of crack cocaine down on the nightstand.

He uncovered Kiran, sweeping him up off the bed, adding on, “Maybe I can trust you to have him.”

“You can.”

Chuck eagerly followed the pair out of the room and down the stairs. He opened the front door and watched sadly as his new toy left his home.

“We'll be in touch,” Davide lied through his teeth.

“Yes,” Chuck sighed. “We will.”

-

I should probably start carrying a wallet.

Kiran cocked his brow as he took the money from his most recent customer, adding the fifty dollars to his growing wad of cash. He tucked it into his pocket, bid the man farewell and hopped out of his shady ass van.

The door rolled shut and the engine roared to life, startling Kiran.

“Well, shit!” he hissed overdramatically. The van suddenly sped off, leaving him to watch the vehicle peel out of the alleyway and hang a right. Kiran adjusted his clothing one more time, turning his walk to the other end of the narrow alley. He stopped to let a series of cars pass before crossing to the other side.

It's been about a week since Kiran's very first night on the job where he was forced to walk the streets, selling himself for rent money. Just ten days since he was pinned to the floor of a seedy van and assaulted numerous times by three men hired to punish him so badly he needed medical attention. He had the very vague memory of the events and an even blurrier memory of the man who ‘helped’ him.

It's been a long week that he's wasted in bed, most of the time sleeping away a never ending exhaustion with the help of various drugs. But here he was, back at it again, racking in unfathomable amounts of money for the small price of his dying dignity.

As Kiran watched the sun beginning to set, though it was only a quarter after five, he thought about where to head next. Alleyways were an obvious good spot. That's where he got his last three customers.

Figuring it be smart to stick to the area, he looped the two neighboring blocks, weaving back and forth between the sidewalks and alleyways. It didn't take too long before his bright green wristband once again peaked someone's interest.

The Buick strolled a good ten mph under the speed limit. Despite the look Kiran and the middle aged driver shared as they passed by each other, neither stopped. The vehicle rounded the block once more before pulling up beside Kiran.

It was the same dance as always.

Knowing the drill by now, Kiran stopped walking and waited for the driver to roll down the passenger side window and make the proposition. Kiran raised a brow as the man’s eyes gave him a slow look over. They settled again on the wristband.

Taking in a sigh to try to calm his own nerves, the man did a small nod.

“Come here,” he said timidly. He sounded unsure of himself, no confidence. He was almost as nervous as Kiran was, maybe more. Kiran had picked up on that, but why, he didn’t know.

Kiran wearily shifted a look around the mildly busy road. There were a few people out, quite a number of cars drove about.

Just in case…

He stood anxiously with only his heels on the curb, bending his gaze into the car.

“Did you...need anything?” Kiran hinted cautiously, involuntarily cringing when the driver leaned forward to pop open the passenger door.

He spoke lowly, teeth pressed against his thumb, “Just you. Get in.”

Kiran hesitated, but meekly did, plunking down in the seat. He tugged the door shut and closed his eyes, breathing deeply to regulate his heartbeat. The car geared forward and took a turn into the closet alley, making it midway before he put it in park and clicked off the engine.

An awkward silence filled the car until Kiran sucked a heap of air in through his teeth. He looked at the man and tilted his head when he didn't immediately initiate sex by telling Kiran to get in the back seat, like all the others before him. Instead, he continued to sit silently with one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

Kiran’s chest tensed, his stare fixated on the gentleman’s hands. His knuckles were white, the rest of his hand a deep red. He clutched the steering wheel like his life depended on it.

Well, Kiran swallowed hard, I’m probably gonna die here.

He took a deep breath and softened his tone, proposing, “Why don't you...I don't know, tell me a bit about yourself? Uh, what’s your name?” The stranger let his eyes glance very quickly at Kiran. He stared back at his own hand and chuckled nervously, loosening his grip on the wheel slightly. Kiran had faltered his posture, pressing his back against the interior of car door after hearing him laugh again.

Kiran located the door handle - just in case…

But the man now was smiling. It was a friendly smile.

“My name is Michael. I’m sorry if I’m...scaring you,” he apologized sheepishly, managing to keep eye contact with Kiran for a full second. “It’s just…” He sighed and chuckled again. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Oh.” Kiran let himself began to relax as he laughed. “I understand. If it makes you feel any better, this is all pretty new to me too.”

“Is it?” he asked, his smile drooping. He looked Kiran over again, settling on the wristband. “If you don’t mind me asking...how long...have you been...?”

“Like a week,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s definitely something that takes time to get used to.”

“Yeah, I’ll say. How in the hell did you get into something like this?”

“I…” Kiran stammered, biting the inside of his lip, but answered the man's question, even though a tingling sensation on the back of his spine was telling him he shouldn’t. “It’s a very cliche story, y’know. Parents kicked me out over a minor moral disagreement, and after two years of this homeless bullshit, I, uh, I got a job offer,” he quipped like it was the punchline to a joke, “that I didn’t have the luxury of refusing. It’s like ‘whatta’ya gonna do?’ I couldn’t do much, so here I am.”

There was another moment of silence as the information settled in Michael’s mind. He looked at Kiran with nothing but pity and regret. He shook his head sadly.

“I’m really sorry that happened to you. That’s really shitty.”

“Oh, it is, but like I said, ‘whatta’ya gonna do?’ But enough about my sob story, tell me about you, like for instance, why are you soliciting sex with a fifteen year old boy? Just curious.”

Kiran popped a big smile and Michael laughed at his brashness.

“Well, damn,” he still chuckled, having to stop and decide if he was ready to divulge the truth yet. The feeling of regret seeped down his back and he sighed, “I have my reasons. Don’t think you’re gonna like ‘em.”

Not being able to tell if Michael was joking or not, Kiran laughed shortly.

“Depends. Maybe you should tell me.”

“I’ll tell you a little bit about me first,” Michael suggested, turning slightly towards Kiran. “Well,” he chuckled, “my name is Michael. I’m 37 years old. I’m a Leo, and…” The words stuck in his throat as he looked at Kiran, at how uneasy he suddenly was again. How fearful he was of Michael’s answer. The truth would send him running for the hills, but if he ran...that’d be an offence.

Michael composed himself. “And...I’m a cop.”

Kiran’s eye nearly popped out of his head. “You’re a...cop? D-did you...uhm, want like a freebie or something?”

“No, no. I’m undercover - right now actually.”

A cold sweat hit Kiran’s entire body and he felt his heart skip a beat. “You’re...what?”

Instead of answering him, Michael flicked open the center compartment console. From it, he got his little walkietalkie. He spoke into it. “10-20, alley between Crescent and Main. I repeat, Crescent and Main.”

The radio chirped back. “10-4. On my way.”

The world seemed to sway around Kiran. He dropped his head into his hands, his breathing hastening.

Michael rested his his arm over the back of Kiran’s seat. “I really am sorry about this. I just radioed my partner. He should be here any second. Listen, we just want to help you. Just please cooperate with us and we’ll get you out of the mess you’re in.”

“This isn’t helping!” Kiran snapped shrewdly. “He’s gonna fucking kill me!”

“Who is?”

“Who fucking else?! My…” He couldn’t mention Davide. If he mentioned a boss...they’d do whatever they could to find him. His tear-strung eyes burned down at the florescent wristband.

If they can trace you back to me...not a good scenario.

Kiran’s stomach twisted into a knot. He immediately went for the door handle, but Michael quickly locked it before Kiran could fling it open and army roll out.

“No, please!”

“Who?’ Michael pressed. “Who’s gonna kill you? You’re boss? If you cooperate and come back to the station with us or at least agree to talk with us right here, we’ll do what we can to keep you safe.”
Kiran’s arms began to go numb. He shook his hands violently, trying to regain feeling, but the panic he felt numbed his whole body and blurred his sight.

“I have to get out of here,” he whimpered, chest heavy with each ragged breath. “I need to go..home. I, I…I don’t feel good. Can I go please? I was just doing my job. Please don’t arrest me.”

“Listen,” Michael coaxed softly. “You gotta calm down, alright? We’re not here to hurt you. We’re just trying to help. Work with us and I’ll tell you what. You’re free to go. Just talk with us. Can you do that?”

His eyes and throat burned. He wanted to scream and cry. He nodded.

“Okay. I’ll..I will.”

Blue and red lights suddenly shined in the rear view mirror as a police cruiser pulled into the alleyway and parked behind them. Kiran scowled at the reflection. Another maneuvered in from the opposite opening.

“You said one…”

“Guess he called for back-up.”

“This is so fucking stupid,” he seethed under his breath. “I was just doing what I was told,” his voice cracked and he had to take a deep breath to keep from crying. He whispered, “I was just doing my job.”

“I know you were,” Michael said quietly. “And that’s what’s messed up. You’re getting in trouble for something you were forced to do, and you’re boss is sitting wherever his is, counting money. It’s not right.”

The passenger side door was pulled open and Kiran was told to step out of the car. Kiran shook his head. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispered. His heart was pounding hard against his ribcage. He could feel it in his ears.

“Get out of the car,” Officer Zeller tried again, this time with more force in his voice.

At the sight of Kiran sitting like a statue, Michael urged him to listen. Kiran shook his head again, repeating, “But I didn’t do anything wrong. We didn’t do anything.”

Two more cops from the other police car came into view. The woman urged, “Out. Now.”

Her partner, as well as Michael’s gripped Kiran by both of his wrists and jerked him from the vehicle.

“No, I didn’t do anything - let go! I didn’t do anything wrong.” He was spun around and slammed hard against the side of the car. “Excuse me - I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Put your hands behind your back and we’ll talk after.”

He was snatched at his wrists, his skin tensing upon contact with the cold metal of the handcuffs. He instinctively tried to pull his hands free.

“Stop resisting!” the woman yelled.

“I’m not resisting! I’ve done nothing wrong!” he continued to say. “I haven’t - let go of me.” The second cuff clicked into place and he was yanked back. He felt a hand dig into his back pocket as the wad of cash left his possession. He snapped at them to give it back. They did not. Michael joined the group at the front of the car. He quickly read Kiran his rights as his partner turned Kiran around and told him to sit on the hood.

“Can I please go? I didn't do anything.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong?” Officer Zeller asked him condescendingly. “Michael is a police officer, and everything you’ve said was recorded and taped, not just for our safety but for ours. From what I heard, you were willing to exchange sex for money, and by law, that’s considered prostitution.”

“But he didn’t - he didn’t give me anything. We didn’t do anything. He didn’t give me money. We were just talking. Tell him. Tell him we were just talking.”

“Everything was recorded,” Michael reminded him quietly.

Officer Zeller added, “You’ll have your day in court if you want to deny everything. That’s fine. We got our evidence and that’s all it takes to put you in jail for the night.”

Kiran’s breath caught in his throat. The tears welled up again and he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“No. No, he said that if I talked, I could go home.”

“Then talk,” Michael said. “This obviously isn’t your ideal way to spend a Friday night. You’re forced to. You mentioned something about a boss - tell us about him.”

“I don’t have a boss,” Kiran shook his head quickly. “I lied. I need money. I don’t know how else to do it. I’m too young; no one will hire me. I lied. It’s me. It’s all me.”

“So you don’t work for anyone?” Zeller asked. “You’re how old? Fifteen? Not a lot of fifteen year olds are willing to shack up with an almost forty year old man for money.” He held up the ball of cash. “And however many more you hooked up with today. Usually there’s someone else back there, pulling the strings.”

Kiran said nothing. The pain in his throat was becoming too much. He finally cracked, letting out a sob.

“Please,” He looked at them with scared, pleading eyes. “I just want to go home. I’ll never do this again. I promise. Just let me go.”

“And we’re supposed to just trust that?” Officer Zeller paused to laugh. “You know the chances of us running into you again? They’re pretty damn high. I have a list of kids just like you that swore this was the last time, and I’ve nabbed four of them since this morning.”

What kind of Hollywood bullshit was this? Kiran was part of a prostitution sting. There were others, who most likely had also been working for Davide - and they were taken to jail. If Kiran joined them, even for a night, this added with all his recent fuck-ups, this would be the final straw for Davide. Who knows what he’d do to him then.

He felt a twitch touch the bridge of his nose and his brows furrowed together.

He really would kill him.

It was obvious that Kiran was on the verge of tears. Not entirely being made of stone, the officers shared a collective look with each other. Officer Zeller, thus proven so far, was the only one to voice the verdict.

“Alright,” he sighed, stepping back to kick the tip of his shoes against the gravel. “But you need to prove that to us. You may feel like prostitution is your only option, but you have to remember you’re worth more than all this shit. We don’t want to see you out here again, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is your first and final warning,” he continued. “We catch you one more time and you’re going to jail and then court. But now, we understand you’re in a predicament. Do what you can to get yourself out of it. If you can’t, stop by the police station and cooperate. Alright? Do you understand me?”

Kiran nodded again, rubbing as much of his face against his shoulder as he could to dry the tears.

“Yes, sir.”

“Consider this a wake-up call. You didn’t like it now. You’re not gonna enjoy the second time. Or the third. Stop it and get out while you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

He mumbled to his fellow police officer to uncuff Kiran. Kiran stared down at his wrists and rubbed his thumb lightly over the tender skin. He perched his chin on his knuckles, anxiously peaking up at the four officers before returning his stare at the ground.

“Thank you,” he breathed, blinking away the tears again. “Thank you so much.”

“Just keep your promise, kid - this is yours.”

Kiran gripped the wad of cash from Officer Zeller and pushed it back into his pocket. He thanked them again. He pressed his back against the wall and waited for the officers to return to their vehicles. Michael stood silently before disappearing into his Buick. The woman and her partner were the first to reverse out of the alley, then Michael crept the car forward and Officer Zeller followed him out.

Finally alone, Kiran dropped to the ground and buried his face in his knees. He lifted his head and tilted it back, staring up at the sky.

He inhaled, getting as much air as he could and exhaled, “FUCK!”

His lip quivered. He crouched back over his knees, his palm pressed flush against his forehead. He began to cry.

He was so close to going to jail - sure, a night was nothing, but what Davide would do when he got back, that was what scared him shitless. How was any of this fair? Why should he be punished for something he had no say in doing? He could’ve gone to jail while Davide sat at his desk, counting money.

For every prostitute out working the streets there's a pimp behind the scenes threatening his workers with violence and death. Maybe Kiran should’ve cooperated. Maybe they could’ve not only helped him but all the others Davide pushed into doing his dirty work.

One thing was for sure. He needed to be more careful next time. Anyone could be a cop, whether they visited him out on the street or in his motel room.

As if this job wasn’t enough of an obstacle course already.