Keeping You: KJ Elite Inc. by L.K. Kracek Page A

a growl in his voice.
    “Yes, sir.” I answered, no defiance in my tone.
    Even taking hurt badly.              
    “What’s your name?”
    “Whatever you want it to be.” It was the answer he beat into me; I never gave my real name – or his.
    The whore was in the back corner of the living room sucking on some man’s dick while he sniffed cocaine off a dinner plate. Pausing only to take a couple five lines herself, she eyed the white man then me, and back to him before proceeding with her other favorite past time.
    This was where I was raised – Brownsville projects, Brooklyn, New York.
    “You’re going to go with this fine man here-” the sperm donor said, pointing to the white man, and continued, “Then tomorrow night, you’re all his.”
    The Hispanic man whistled lowly and squeezed my butt really hard.
    I nodded and lowered my head again. Arguing would get me nowhere right now. Instead, I block out the rest of what he has to say and continue planning the different ways I’ll make him suffer before I slit his throat.
    “Let’s get moving, girl.” The white man said, grabbing my upper arm and yanking me to the door.
    “Yes, sir.”
    The sperm donor releases my hair and clears his throat.
    “Forgetting something?”
    “Oh, yeah. How much, again?”
    “I’ll cut you a deal. 12 hours for only $200.”
    That’s how much I meant to this waste of space. Two hundred dollars to have God knows what done to me for half a day. I died a little more on the inside and swallowed back the tears.
    We walked out the door after the white man paid him the money. He loosened his grip on my hand and stopped when we left the building.
    “What’s your name, baby?” I hear something new in his voice; something deep and rugged, but twangy.
    “I already told you – whatever you…” He holds his hand up to stop me then proceeds to light up a Marlboro.
    “Your real name.”
    I don’t know what it was, but something about him made me feel safe. For some people they might struggle to place the emotion when drowning in toxic waste like I was, but since I had never felt safe, I knew exactly what it was.
    He raised his hand again and I fought the urge to pull back.
    Instead of touching me, he ran it through his chestnut colored hair that was peppered with black and white.
    “Jamie.”
    “That’s what I wa s hopin g .” A brilliant smile lit his face while deep dimples graced his cheeks.
    “My name is Nolan. Folks call me No for short. I’ve earned the nickname in more ways than one, baby.”
    “Why - why are you telling me this?” I asked hesitantly.
    “I’m here looking for you, little one. You’re safe, now. I swear to you, from this day on, no one will hurt you again. Not if I have anything to say about it. No more grabbing or kicking or hitting. You’re going to get the life a girl as perfect as you deserves.”
    You’re safe, now.
    Those words didn’t really sink in, not until the squad of men ran past us; up, into the building, decked out in military protective gear, a long line of military men climbed the stairs silently.
    First it was the bangs, then it was the screams and gunfire that made me turn away with a wicked smile on my face; I hoped they all died painfully.
     
    I awoke from my half-asleep, partial dream. It was one of my strongest memories that usually only came when I let my defenses down enough to sleep. A warm hand was on my shoulder, shaking me.
    “You alright, sugar?”
    I smiled, cheered up by the memory.
    “Yes.”
    “Good. It seemed like a big one so I wanted to wake you in case it was bad.”
    It was big alright but it wasn’t bad. No, it wasn’t bad at all.
    “I was remembering the night I was visited by an angel.”
    His eyebrow lifted in curiosity but he bit his tongue.
    I looked him up and down, taking in his baggy grey sweat pants and fitted white tee. The sweats hung low on his hips while the t-shirt hugged every delicious curve of his upper body.
    That was the