In the Band

Chapter 28

Chapter 28 Allison's P.O.V.

My grandmother’s words rang through my head.

You can’t see her unless you can get the money to fly her back home.

The rain running down my windshield as I drove downtown reminded me of the tear’s running down Kelsey’s face the last time I saw her.

She thinks I betrayed her.

Wanting to rid the thoughts from my mind, I reached over to turn up the volume on my car radio, not caring that I didn’t like the song.

I urged my mind to think positively, begging it to stop torturing me with painful memories, in the weak hopes that it would listen.

“To achieve something, you have to visualize it,” I recited to my head. My teeth ground together. “Why is that so hard to do?”

With some strain, I pictured a successful interview. Where every question the employer asked was answered with confidence and without faltering, as though the words being said were already rehearsed. I tried to put myself in that vision, but it was ruthless. When I’m put into anything positive, it ruins itself, whether it’s in my imagination or reality.

I arrived at the building I was looking for, wishing that my past hope could somehow be returned to me.

The person at the reception desk directed me to an office towards the back of the building.

“Hello,” I said politely as I opened the door.

My interviewer smiled at me. “Hello.” He had greying hair and a tall, skinny body. Silver glasses perched at the tip of his nose. “I’m Robert Gray.”

“Allison Reed.” We shook hands.

Mr. Gray asked me a few typical questions that I answered easily. Then, he asked the one I’ve been dreading.

“On your application, there is no address listed. Why is that?”

I gulped, but kept my polite smile. “I’m…between residences at the moment.”

“Is your family moving?”

“No…” I tried to think of something to explain myself, but I couldn’t.

“We need to know your address in order to give you a job, Miss Reed.”

“I don’t exactly have a permanent address right now.”

He was getting impatient. “Miss Reed, we need an address.”

“I mean, I don’t think you’d want my license plate number,” I said before thinking. When I realized, it was too late. Mr. Gray widened his eyes a bit behind his glasses, but they quickly  returned to their droopy state. He stood up.

“Well, thanks for coming in, Miss Reed. We’ll let you know,” he said as he urged me to the door. It translated to: We would never pick you. You are too obviously unstable to work here.

“Thank you for your time!” I made a last attempt to better the interview, while he continued to usher me out.

“Yes, yes.”

“No really I-“ Mr. Gray shut his office door in my face.

I sighed and headed back to my car.

Once I got to it and looked at its lousy, beaten up structure, it almost felt like reality hit me, every negative thing happening in my life turned into an emotion, I couldn’t hold it in. Overwhelming rage swelled inside of me. I wanted to hit the car. I wanted to hit someone else. I wanted to hit myself. Thinking I could get over it, I went inside my car instead and turned my key in the ignition.

It didn’t start.

Gritting my teeth, I forced the anger back down my throat and tried again. The engine still wouldn’t start.

My emotions spilled out. I screamed and started banging my arms against the steering wheel. Not being satisfied with that, I started banging my head. Tears of anger came soon and eventually I covered my face with my hands and just sobbed. Out of anger, out of sadness, out of desperation mostly.

I didn’t think I could physically be in the car any longer, so I walked out. I didn’t stop, just kept on walking forward in the rain.  There were still a few tears going down my face, but they mixed with the rain. A couple people passed me under umbrellas.

I probably looked like a mess. A lone teenage girl wondering the streets without so much as a coat. Mascara all over her strained face.

Looking at the masses of headlights, I wanted to jump in front of a pair.

Eventually, I found myself at a corner of the sidewalk. In the rain. In the dark. Not really knowing what to do.

Looking at the bright lights of an establishment behind me, I realized that it was a titty bar. I turned around and chuckled darkly.

“Fitting,” I mumbled.

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly realizing how cold it was.

“You look lost,” a man’s voice said behind me. I quickly turned around and backed away, almost falling off the curb. He grabbed my arm, steadying me. “Whoa, there, don’t fall.”

He wore a trench coat and one of those hats that they wore in The Godfather.  There was a black umbrella in his hand. Seeming like he was in his late twenties or early thirties, I didn’t trust him. He had a weird smile on his face, not like a pedophile’s, but something close.

“What do you want?” I asked him. My voice held little confidence. He handed me his umbrella, lit a cigarette, and took it back.

“How old are you?” He ignored my question after puffing out a bit of smoke. I contemplated answering.

“Seventeen.”

“Damn, you would’ve made a good dancer too,” it took me a little to understand what he meant.

“Yeah?” I said, interested.

“You could be making three hundred, four hundred a night.” I smiled, imagining getting Kelsey home that quickly, but my frown disappeared when I remembered it couldn’t happen.

“I’m not legal though,” I said, disheartened. He puffed out more smoke.

“You know,” I looked up at him, listening to what he was saying; “there is something you could do. With that body, you could make triple what I just told you.”

“Triple?” I said excitedly.

“Yeah, of course, I get twenty percent.”

I knew what he wanted me to do. “I don’t know…”

“Hey, sweetheart, take my card. If you call, I could easily get you a client within the week.” He lit another cigarette and started walking away.

“Thank you!” I called after him.

I looked down at his card.

James Benet

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Sorry it's not Monday again. I hope you still like it! I might change the pimp's name. I couldn't think of anything today. Haha I wrote the beginning of this like, six months ago. It sounds funny now.