Mementos from Sufrida Street: It’s Always the Sickos

Damned John, leaves me a five dollar tip. Not even worth the mouthwash gargle to flush the bad taste of him from my mouth. Still, a fiver is something and down it goes into my purse, in with the rest of the lint, condoms and loose change from the day’s work. I swear, this street will see me dead one of these days, but in the meantime, mama’s got to feed the worm. Arriving at Santino’s, best cheap pub down on Sufrida, usually half of my drinks end up being for free; I still got the looks for it. Santino is attending the bar tonite, so maybe I’ll get some extra cash. Sure enough, the old Italian points at some fat cat and his friend in a corner table. I slither my way to their place, they both size me up with their lusty eyes from head, tits, legs and feet. Having a butcher’s, eh lads?, I tell them and they both laugh. The fat cat motions to take a seat next to him. His friend’s still staring at my chest like it’s feeding time. I say the usual spiel about how handsome guys like them are with no female company, the fat cat smiles like a shark about to eat and his friend snickers like a demented school boy. I suggest a more private place to chat at ease, both can come, though they’ll have to take care of me I tell them. The fat cat pulls out his wallet, loaded like a pistol ready to go off, slides off a neatly pressed fifty dollar bill. For your company, and there’s more to come, he promises. The night suddenly lights up and I am rubbing my body on his while his friend looks with desire. If the pay’s good I don’t mind sharing, I’ve done worse than a threesome.

We have a few drinks and I ride a well earned buzz, my head is floating and then we are walking all three down Sufrida. Neon lights, cars crossing, people walking and talking, this is my nightly chorus. The fat cat and his friend say they feel like getting a taste of danger and lead me down an alleyway. I shiver a little, but the money’s good, so I let them take me. We arrive to the nearest one, walk a bit until the sounds of the street are muffled and only the yowling of some passing cat in heat is heard nearby. Both carry leering grins on their faces, I see their masks falling, then a sharp pain in my face; the fat cat knows how to hit. My body slams on the wall, I tremble and fill my eyes with tears, these two are out for blood and they found me. I plead for my life as they loom over me, they simply laugh. No one cares about hookers, a dead one is almost as good as a live one, the fat cat’s friend speaks in giggling tones. I smile and they freeze for an instant, that’s all I ever need. Out comes the knife, muffled screams follow, then a whimper and pleading. This ho ain’t got a heart of gold, I whisper and silence falls. Wiping the blood from my lips away and cleaning my knife on the fat cat’s face. Fishing in his pockets I take the cash from his wallet, for my troubles of course. Spit on their faces is my parting gift. I walk out of the alleyway and soon enough I am surrounded by light and sound and I lose myself in the anonymous crowd. I’ll give my cut to Santino in the morning, he’s always been good at spotting the sickos in this place.


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