Price of Fame by Amaleka McCall

Author:Amaleka McCall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2011-04-11T04:00:00+00:00

The next day, Dominique and Jordan left their Brooklyn apartment and headed to the city for another caper. Dominique felt brave enough to come back to Brooklyn with the protection of Jordan. But she still had not dared to return to see her aunt.

They had already stopped in Dominique’s old stomping grounds–East New York–to collect the previous night’s cash from the few girls Jordan had working Brooklyn. Neither of them were impressed with the take. Jordan threatened a few of them and then downed his usual bottle of Mylanta to calm his ulcer.

When they arrived in the city, Dominique hopped out of the car in Times Square. She worked the side streets–the clients paid more and were less likely to act up. Although the city was under a change and Times Square was turning into a tourist attraction, sex was still a high-demand commodity. Dominique walked her block near Forty-third and Seventh Avenue until she spotted a potential john. As she approached the car, she noticed in her peripheral vision the same white girl she and Jordan had seen yesterday. The girl was digging in the overflowing orange metal garbage can on the street corner. “Oh, hell no!” Dominique whispered to herself. “That’s the same white girl. Damn, she really ain’t from around here,” Dominique kept talking to herself as she walked toward the girl. Dominique had a soft spot for homeless people, especially homeless females since she’d been one herself.

Dominique approached the girl cautiously. “Hey,” Dominique called out, a safe distance from the garbage can. The girl jumped so hard, she stumbled backward. Her blue eyes open wide, she slowly regained her footing and began walking backward, her hands lifted in surrender.

“Whoa, whoa . . . I’m not trying to hurt you. You just look like you need some food . . .”Dominique said, already regretting her interference. The girl seemed to perk up at the mention of food. “Where you from?” Dominique asked, taking in the girl’s outdated hairstyle and that awful homemade flowered dress. The girl just stared back in silence. “All right, it’s your choice. I gotta go to work. I don’t got no time to mess with you,” Dominique said, preparing to walk away.

“From Utah,” the girl blurted out as Dominique turned her back.

“Utah! How in the hell you get all the way to New York? Shit!” Dominique exclaimed, whipping back around and crinkling her face. “What’s your name?” Dominique asked.

“Casey,” the girl whispered.

“Well, Casey, your ass is gonna get eaten up fuckin’ with these mean streets,” Dominique said, digging in her purse for a cigarette. The girl looked at Dominique strangely.

“What? People in Utah don’t smoke?” Dominique asked, lighting her cigarette.

“I . . . I . . . never talked to someone with skin like yours before,” Casey stammered.

“What the fuck you mean? They don’t got no black people in Utah?” Dominique exclaimed, looking at Casey in shock.

“If so, I never seen or talked to any,” Casey said so softly that Dominique had to strain to hear her words.

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