"Would you like fries with that sir?" I asked in a monotone.
"Uh...um yes thank you. Well, do you have those stick things, the ones that are filled with potato?" the bald customer stammered.
"Yes, sir those are called fries." I drawled.
"Oh okay then. Um, can I get one, uh small, no make that medium fries please?" He asked timidly.
Tedious and repeated conversations at two in the morning were just a few of the many perks of my job here at McDonalds. I hated it, but right now there were a lot of things I hated about my life and to change those things I needed money. Also, I really needed an escape from home once in a while.
"Oi Reggie! Put some more Fries on would ya?" I called out.
"No probs Kyla," Reggie replied.
After the bald guy with the stammer left, it was empty for about an hour or so. Since there were no customers I decided to mop the floors. I wish life was that easy. Whenever you had a problem that stopped you from shining you could just wipe it away and everything was right again. After two more hours of no customers, Reggie told me to finish up.
"It's pretty dead here, you might as well go home," he said.
I didn't want to go home, but I didn't want to stay here either. I decided to walk the long way home. Even though I could put off physically being home, my mind was already there. I knew that mum would be pissed, maybe stoned as well. Steve, her current 'boyfriend' would be there, just as out of it as she would be. My mum had me when she was fifteen, making her thirty-two right now. I had no idea how old Steve was but he had the body of a man at least fifty. I knew he was too old for mum at any rate. Mum's always been into drugs, for as long as I can remember. She gets a new boyfriend every month, coz they never last long. They only use her for sex and free drugs. Last week I came home to find mum and Steve at it like rabbits in the backyard. I spent days after looking straight at the sun, trying to blind myself. I had nearly reached our street now. Our house was a dump. The two front windows were broken, the front yard was overgrown and the paint on the walls was yellowed and peeling. I walked straight into the house, the front door was never locked anymore. Mum was sitting on a couch in the front room, smoking a joint.
"Hey sweetie, how was school?" she asked.
Obviously she's forgotten that I haven't been to school since I was fourteen. I never liked school so I just dropped it. I wished I hadn't now, when the best job I can get is at McDonalds. I ignored her and walked down the hallway to my room. I locked the door and lay down on my bed. I heard footsteps down the hall. Mum had gone to her room. Hopefully she would just go to sleep. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. Suddenly I heard a giggle, grunt and a squeaky rhythm coming from mum's room.
"OOOOOOHHH Steve! YEEEEAAAAAHH!" mum shouted "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! mmmmmmmmmm harder baby harder, ram it into me HARD. OH YEAH.....fuck me oh fuck me."
Did I mention I hate my life?
*************
Today is Father's Day. I HATE Father's Day. My father was a dickhead. He knocked up my mum at fifteen and didn't even hang around to see my first birthday. I have just one photo of him, it's of the three of us in the hospital the day I was born. It's one of the few images in my mind that I have of my mum being sober. They both look so young, and scared shitless too. Dad ditched my mum somewhere between 8 -9 months after I was born. I hate Father's Day because it's that one day a year where I am forced to think about him, not that I don't most other days anyway, it just feels like today I don't have a choice.
At my afternoon shift at work I try my best to ignore all the families. I make myself focus on why I am here. For money. I'm saving up so I can buy an apartment away from this hole that is my life right now. When I have an apartment I can get a better job. I'll get more money and then go to uni. That's why I'm doing this, and I have to keep reminding myself or I know I will give up. I worked on through the night, it was a blur of cleaning toilets, serving burgers and being depressed. At around three in the morning two girls stumbled through the doors, one wearing a miniskirt and tight singlet, the other in knee-high boots, fish-net tights and lingerie. I could tell just by looking at her that she was a prostitute. She didn't look any older than eighteen. The girls giggled and collapsed at a table near where I was mopping the floor.
"That was WILD!" said the one in the miniskirt.
"I told you so! You just HAVE to join up for real now Jaz, it's just not an option!" giggled the hooker.
"Really? You mean, you think I should become a professional prostitute? I guess I could use the money. How much did that guy give us anyway?"
"$500. Let's split it, 250 each."
"Ok, I'll do it. I'll be a hooker!" and they started giggling again.
$250 each? For sex? I had no idea hookers were so well paid! I heard that the average hooker got 20 bucks an hour. Obviously I was wrong. The girls bought a coke each and left. I continued with my mopping. The floor was practically sparkling, so I moved on to cleaning the tables. Everything looked pristine by the time I was done. On my walk home, I thought back to the girls, and how much money they had made. I wasn't a virgin, I hadn't been since I was twelve. I went through a bit of a bad patch where I was depressed and I used to nick mum's alcohol and get smashed. Then I'd go out to the street or the park and practically beg random guys to fuck me. It went on for about two years, nearly every week. Then, when I was fourteen I tried to commit suicide. Mum was sober for a few weeks, trying to pull everything together but good things never last. She got back on the drink and I stopped going to school completely even though before I had been wagging most days anyway. Since then, whenever everything got a bit too much for me to handle, when I felt I couldn't cope I would go back to my old ways and get drunk and then go have sex. I wanted someone to make me feel loved, wanted. I wanted them to make me forget who I was. I hadn't done that for almost a year now though. Now I was seriously considering this prostitute idea...
********
How the hell was I supposed to just become a prostitute? At the moment I'm at the library. I'm tempted to just walk up to one of the computers and google brothels in Sydney. So far I've found a few books that I'll be borrowing: 'The In's and Out's of Good Sex', 'Intended For Pleasure: Sexual Technique' and 'Prostitution For Dummies'. I bought the paper and looked in the yellow pages. I think the most promising ad I've found so far would have to be for Madame Minou's Pleasure Palace. I wander around the streets until I find a phone box. When I call a woman with a husky voice, as though she has been smoking, answers.
"Madame Minou's Pleasure Palace."
"Um...Hi," I answer. What am I supposed to say?
"Do ya wanna booking or something? You can just turn up you know. Want the address?" she asked.
"No, that's not why I was calling..."
"Answering the phone is such a fucking waste of time! All right, well if that's all then..." she said, obviously trying to get rid of me.
"No, wait! I was wondering if you were uh, hiring? I'm interested in a job." I mumbled.
"Alright then. What's ya name and age darlin'?"
"It's Kyla, I'm seventeen."
"Okay Tyler, come down to 54 Gordon Street later tonight and we'll give you an interview. Bye then!"
Shit! An interview? What am I supposed to do?
Thanks for reading, hope you liked it!!! Please comment/vote/fan if you did, I love feedback or ideas for what happens next etc. Thanks to all 3 of my fans,JayeRoxz93, crazed and babygirl4813, love you guys xxx
