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through the red painted corridor, passing a waiting area
that I avoid looking into.  Seeing the girls makes me sad. Seeing a bunch of
sick fucks languishing around before they head upstairs makes me angry.  This
is the part of Adam’s business that I hate above anything else. 
    Sandra’s
office door is at the end and I knock.
    “Come
in,” she drawls.  She’s from South Carolina and her accent sounds so melodic
and homey, but Sandra is anything but.
    When
I open the door she grins widely.  “Well, look what the cat dragged in.  You
know you get more handsome every time I see you.”  She’s at least forty-five
but she’s dressed much younger in a lace up corset and tight leather pants. 
Her cleavage has that crinkled skin you get on women who’ve spent too much time
in the sun or on tanning-beds, her lips are blood red, and her hair
bleach-blonde.  She’s got the madam look down to a tee.
    “Is
that so?”
    “Yes
it is.”
    “I’m
here for the takings.”  I want this done with quickly so I can get out of this
place.  The smell of cheap perfume and sex is turning my stomach.
    Sandra
rustles around for an envelope and then opens the safe that’s bolted to the
floor in the corner, pulling out a wad of notes.  When everything is packed and
sealed she hands it over to me, stroking her index finger on the back of my
hand as she passes it over.  “You’re just like your daddy,” she says, and I
snatch my hand away.  It’s just about the worst thing anyone could ever say to
me.
    “I
don’t think so,” I growl, unable to hide the disgust in my voice. 
    “What
did I say?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.
    “Nothing. 
Forget it.”  I turn, stuffing the envelope into the waistband of my jeans and
pulling my t-shirt down over it.
    “You
know you’re welcome here anytime,” Sandra croons from behind me as I make my
way back towards the front door.  “I know Angie would be more than happy to get
her hands on you…no charge.”
    Above
us I can hear the rhythmic banging of a headboard on a wall and the
high-pitched moans of one of Sandra’s girls.  The blonde in the nightwear is
leaning in a doorway, watching.
    “I’ll
see you around,” I say to no one in particular, hoping it won’t be the case. 
    “You
keep safe, Brandon,” Sandra says.
    “You
too.”  I wonder how many times those women have felt the violence of a man.  My
own hands are still bloody, the bandages removed and left at the police station,
and I feel shame for the anger and loss of control they reveal.
     Out
on the street I take a deep breath and walk quickly away.  I don’t want to
spend any more time in this part of town than I have to and I’m feeling tired
to my bones.  I jump back in my car, throwing the envelope on the passenger
seat, and drive back to Jackson’s.  Adam is still sitting in the booth but now
Connor is with him and Jeremiah, who everyone calls Tom in some weird
transition from Jeremiah, to Jerry, then to Tom because of the cartoon.   They
go quiet when I reach the booth.
    “Interrupting
something?” I say, taking a seat on the stool. 
    “Nah,”
Conner says, looking between me and Adam. He knows our relationship is
difficult but stays out of it when he can. 
    “Okay,”
I say.  “Sandra sends her regards.”
    “I
don’t give a shit about her regards.  You get the money?”
    “Yeah.” 
I slip the envelope under the table and he shoves it in his bag. 
    “Anything
else, cos I’m finished.”  I rub my hands over my face, feeling the deepness of
my tired eyes.
    “That’s
it for tonight,” Adam says.  “You make sure you’re here tomorrow when you’re
supposed to be.  And no more getting busy with your fists.  You cost me a
fortune today and next time I might not be so generous about bailing you out.”
    “I’m
no use to you in the pen,” I say.
    “You’re
no use to me if you cost me more than you earn me,” he says.  There he goes,
reducing me to nothing