Calling Maggie May (16 page)

Tues, March 10, later

So this really is Shawn's apartment, and that really was Shawn from the Valentine's party moving around in the front room. He just came in and brought me a breakfast sandwich. I ate a few bites but had to stop when I suddenly felt really queasy. Shawn said it was probably from bumping my head pretty hard last night. That explains the painful lump and the memory loss, at least.

He asked me a lot of questions about how I was feeling and if I remembered my name and stuff. I kept trying to interrupt him to ask him what the hell he was doing in that park and
what exactly happened, but he shushed me and told me not to worry about it for now. He said I needed rest and he didn't want to wear me out, but that we would talk more later.

I really feel like I would rest better if I weren't so confused. But I am awfully sleepy.

Tues, March 10, later

Shawn just came in and brought me half a burrito. I assured him I was feeling much better, so he finally agreed to tell me a bit about last night.

He said he was just hanging out in the park when he heard shouting and saw someone get knocked down. He ran over and found me there. He says he couldn't have been more shocked when he saw it was me. Small world, I guess. I would never have expected to run into him in a place like that either, but I guess that's what Beth was trying to tell me. Everyone who works with Irma winds up there sooner or later.

I asked him if he knew who beat me up, but he said the guy was making a run for it by the time he got there, and he thought it was more important to help me than follow him.

“Do you think anyone else who was there might know who he was?” I asked. “Or where I could find him?”

Shawn frowned. “I doubt it. I don't know if you noticed, but people who hang out at that park tend to keep their eyes to themselves. You know what I mean?”

Of course I did. I remember how people acted last night when I asked about Ada. I started to nod in answer, but instead I burst into tears. Shawn sat down on the bed with me.

“What's the matter?” he said. “You're safe now.”

So I explained to him about the money and the phones.

“You had an envelope full of cash? In Westlake Park after dark? I'm sorry, kid,” he said, “but that wasn't a very intelligent plan. What were you even doing there?”

“Miss Irma says we owe her money,” I explained. “A lot of money. Ada disappeared, I'm not sure why, but maybe because she couldn't pay what Irma was asking. But I have the money. I was trying to find her to tell her I have it and we can go pay Irma and it will all be okay. Except I was saving that money for an apartment, and now I'm back to zero, and now someone stole the money so actually I'm still in debt and Miss Irma's goons are going to start looking for me and I still don't know where Ada is or if she's okay and everything is wrong and I wish I were dead.”

“Hey,” said Shawn soothingly, “don't worry, all right? Just rest for now. You lost some money. You owe some money. It happens. It's not the end of the world. I promise. You're okay now, so just relax.”

“But what about Ada?”

“Let me worry about Ada. I have better resources than you do to figure out what happened to her. I'll put the word out, and
it will only be a matter of time before we hear something. Trust me. I know how to get information.”

Which made something occur to me. “What were you doing in the park last night?”

Shawn smiled. “I'm there pretty much every night. Keeping an eye on some friends, you could say. You're not the only girl who likes to get into trouble around here, you know.”

“So, what . . . ? You're some kind of guardian angel or something?”

Shawn laughed. “Never been called that before. But that's one way to look at it.”

Fri, March 13

I'm still at Shawn's. He just came in with half of a submarine sandwich he saved for me. He's sweet, but I get the feeling that all he eats is fast food.

I told him I'm feeling a lot better now. I have to start thinking about what comes next. What am I going to do about Miss Irma? And how am I going to find Ada?

“Relax,” said Shawn. “I told you to let me take care of it, and I did.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don't have to worry about Miss Irma anymore. I got her off your back. Her goons won't be sniffing around anymore.”

“What? But why not? What did you do?”

“I paid her,” he said simply.

“You paid her?” I said, incredulous. “You paid her what we owed? But it was a lot of money!”

“That's all relative. A lot of money to you is just a sound investment to me.”

I took a second to process that. At first I felt like a huge weight had just been lifted from me. I hadn't even realized how worried I was about Miss Irma and the debt. But after a moment that good feeling got swept away by a low, sinking one.

“That's really kind of you,” I said. “Too kind. How will I ever pay you back?”

“Don't worry about it,” said Shawn. “Think of it like karma. Or like you said back at Miss Irma's party.”

“What did I say?”

“We need to look out for each other.”

I managed a smile at this, but the phrase only reminded me of my other problem.

“What about Ada, then?” I said. “Any news?”

Shawn shifted and dropped his eyes. “Not yet,” he said.

I didn't like the look on his face when he said that. I had a feeling he knew more than he was letting on, and I was desperate to hear whatever it was. But when I pressed him for
more information, he just told me to get some more rest and left me alone in his bedroom.

Sat, March 14

I got it out of him. Now I know what it was Shawn was trying to hide from me.

Ada . . . I can't say it. I can't write it. It's stupid, but it feels like that would make it real. Maybe if I just go to sleep, I'll wake up and realize this was all a terrible dream.

Tues, March 17

I can't hide from it anymore. Wishing and waiting isn't going to change things, so I might as well face it.

Shawn says Ada is dead.

He told me he asked around, put the word out to everyone he knows that we were looking for her. Three separate people came and told him the same thing. Hard to argue with that. I asked him how it happened, but he just shrugged.

“These things happen,” he said. “It could have been any of us. It was almost you, the night I found you.”

“You think she was murdered?”

“Maybe. Maybe killed for some cash, maybe an OD, maybe went to sleep in a Dumpster one cold night and didn't wake up. It happens all the time.”

“But the police—”

“What do the police care about one more dead hooker? Unless she has family that are looking for her . . .”

I shook my head sadly, remembering my encounter with Ada's mom. Not likely that she was aware enough to even wonder what had happened to Ada.

I don't know what to do with myself. In a weird way, I don't even know who I am anymore. Ada's been the only person who really mattered to me for so long. My best friend. My only real friend. My only true family. The only person who really cared for me. How do I go on without her?

Mon, March 23

I haven't updated here in a little while. I didn't know how to talk about what's been going on, or maybe I just didn't want to. But I might as well say it.

I've been sleeping with Shawn. At first I didn't know what to make of it. All I knew was that it was something I needed right then, but I wasn't sure where it was going or what it all meant. And when it started, my head and my heart were still so full of Ada, none of it even felt real. But now it's the only thing that does feel real. The only thing I can hang on to in this life that isn't pure misery.

You might think that after all the experiences I've had, sex
would be the last place I'd look for comfort. But this is different somehow. It doesn't feel at all like the sex I've had with clients. It doesn't even feel like that first time with Damon. Not just bodies and parts and fluids. For the first time, I don't feel like an object for someone else to enjoy.

The first night I found out about Ada, I just needed someone. I needed to not feel so alone. And Shawn stayed with me, held me while I cried, listened to all my ravings. He made me feel safe.

But at the same time, I didn't understand it, so finally I asked him. I asked him why he was being so nice to me. Why did he take me home that first night? Why did he pay off my debt? Why did he take up my search for Ada, and why was he putting up with me right now? He's been sleeping on the couch for two weeks now just so I can have the bedroom to myself.

Shawn smiled shyly.

“I guess some of us have to balance out all the assholes of the world,” he said. I didn't know what to say to that, so I just looked at him with tears in my eyes until he got shifty and awkward.

“Also . . . ,” he said, hesitating, “there's kind of something else, too.”

I nodded for him to go on. He took a breath.

“I like you,” he said. “I like you a lot, and I have ever since the night I met you. And I guess I was just hoping that if I was nice to you, maybe . . . maybe you would start to like me too.”

I had nothing to say to that, so I kissed him. And I told him he didn't need to sleep on the couch anymore.

Sat, March 28

How do you know when you're in love with someone? This seems like such a silly question to be asking right now, with all that's been going on in my life, and as usual I feel like a naive idiot not to know the answer. But I don't think I've ever felt it before. Back in my old life, I wanted Tyler so much, and it was a really huge crush, but I don't think I ever would have said that I loved him. I mean, I didn't even know him, really, and what I did know suggested that he was kind of a jerk. (Which turned out to be incredibly true.)

Sometimes I have warm feelings toward some of my clients, and I did like Damon a lot, but I don't know them, and I know they don't really care about me.

With Shawn it's so different from how it always has been. I know he cares about me. He shows me every day how much. I know we haven't been together long, but the past couple of weeks have been so intense. I can't say exactly that I'm happy. How could I be happy after what happened to Ada? But I feel
loved and cared for, and I think I feel it back. I want to take care of Shawn the way he has taken care of me.

At least he's not sleeping on the couch anymore. But the truth is, I have taken too much from him. I could never repay him for all he's done for me, but I have to at least start contributing. Plus, I need to get out and do something. For a while, being tucked away in his bedroom was just what I needed. An escape from all the crap I'd been dealing with out there. A chance to catch my breath and sort out my thoughts. But now I've done that, and I'm starting to feel cooped up. I need to make myself useful.

Sun, March 29

Shawn's going to let me help out! It's actually funny how it worked out. He came in today with lunch, and I could tell he wasn't himself. He seemed upset and preoccupied, though he was clearly trying to hide it from me. But I made him tell me what was up. I'm not some fragile flower. He doesn't have to keep protecting me.

He didn't want to say anything at first, but eventually he admitted that he'd been distracted from real life by taking care of me for a while, and now he wasn't totally sure how he was going to make rent. But he told me not to worry about it, that he was resourceful and always figured out something.

So I explained to him that this worked out perfectly, because I'd just been thinking how I wanted to start pulling my weight around here. He doesn't need to keep me under glass. I can work. I can contribute.

He kind of laughed and asked what I could do to raise rent money. It's true that I really know only one way to make money, but what's wrong with that? I don't mind, if it will help.

Of course he was really against the idea at first. He said he didn't want me doing that kind of thing anymore. But I was like, “Come on! Who are you kidding?” I've done it before, and so has he. It should be no big deal to us.

Then I asked him if the idea made him jealous, and he admitted that it did. So I told him he was being silly. There's such a huge difference between what we do out there for money and what we do together for love. Out there is just a show, and this is for real. I told him I could never mix the two up. . . . Could he? And he said he couldn't either. So it's settled.

Tues, March 31

Last night was my first night back at work. It's different from working for Miss Irma, but not so much worse, I think.

How we worked it out is, I go out and stand in the park, visible but not too visible. When a car drives by going kind of slow, I step out and try to get his attention. If he stops, at that
point Shawn comes over to check him out and make sure he knows I have someone looking out for me. And he handles the money, too, so I don't have to worry about that. If Shawn thinks the guy's okay, I either get in the car with him for a blow job, or we drive to a hotel. That costs more.

Last night there weren't any hotel dates, just blow jobs in cars. It really wasn't so bad. It's all over pretty quickly, and it's easy to stay detached. And I feel safer knowing Shawn is right there than I did going alone to those hotel rooms. The money isn't as good, but you can do so many more people in one night, so it almost evens out.

One thing we need to worry about is cops. That used to be less of an issue with Miss Irma. It could be a real nuisance if I get arrested, especially if they send me back to my parents.

I was wondering whether my parents would come look for me at any point, but Shawn told me not to worry too much about that. Odds are they went to the cops when I didn't come home, but given my recent history of erratic behavior, the cops will assume I'm a runaway, and they don't usually bother looking too hard for runaways, especially if they don't have any idea where you might be. But if the cops pick me up and they recognize me, they'll send me home immediately.

Shawn also has his own problems to deal with in the park, it turns out. I came back from a trick at some point to see some
girl yelling at him and getting in his face. He managed to calm her down, though. I asked him about it and he told me not to worry about it, just an old girlfriend.

Oh, there's another kind of weird thing I learned tonight. Shawn talks differently when he's in the park compared to when he's home with me. The first time I heard him talking to the other guys who hang around the fountain, I almost laughed! He talks like a gangster or something, which is
so
different from how he sounds with me. And really different from how he sounded at Irma's party.

I asked him about it and he looked a little embarrassed, but he explained about playing roles again, and how we all need to be different characters in different situations. He had to play one character when he was appealing to male clients, but in order to get respect on the street, he has to act different. I asked him what role he's playing when he's with me, but he just smiled and said that with me he gets to be real, and that's why he loves me.