Irish gripped Emanuel’s hand tighter while the older gentleman ogled her. She was uncomfortable as Emanuel leaned against the table. A man stood at the other end and pulled a set of dice toward him with a dice stick.
“You in, E?” the dealer asked.
Emanuel leaned against the table. “Yeah.”
The dealer slid the dice toward him and Emanuel picked them up. He then turned to Irish, wearing a wide grin.
“Baby Girl, why don't you do me the honors.” He held the dice in front of her face.
“Huh?” sheasked, confused.
“Use those pretty lips and blow on these for me.”
Irish looked around at the eyes that were set on her. She was so uncomfortable, but Emanuel didn’t seem to pick up on the social cues of her uneasiness. Irish leaned toward Emanuel’s hand and blew a quick breath. He laughed before shaking his head.
“Baby Girl, you gon’ give me bad luck. Blow softer and a lil’ longer.”
Irish’s gaze descended a bit before she blew a gentle breath on the dice.
“Yeah, like that,” Emanuel murmured, gazing at her glossy lips.
“When you done with his, come blow on mine,” the creepy old man said to her.
Emanuel quickly pulled Irish closer to him before he threw the dice against the table. Snapping his fingers, he grinned at the outcome of an eleven.
“Hell yeah,” he grumbled.
When his hand rested against Irish’s hip, she tensed up. Finally sensing her discomfort, he leaned closer toward her ear.
“You're doing so good, Baby Girl. Keep distracting these niggas with your pretty ass.”
Irish avoided his eye contact as he continued to shoot the dice and collect chips. For the duration of their visit to the illegal gambling house, Irish kept her head down. Some of the men tried to get her attention but she couldn’t stand to lookat them. The hunger in their eyes scared her. They made her feel like prey and Emanuel didn’t come to her aid. Instead, he continued putting her on display for the men to leer at her.
Irish was so thankful when Emanuel collected his chips and cashed them in. They left the gambling house after hours of her feeling like meat in a room filled with animals. As soon as they got inside the car, Emanuel turned to her.
“I’m so proud of you, Irish. You had those niggas in there slobbin’ at the mouth. You gon’ make me a lot of money, especially now that your body has filled out.”
“…I don't wanna go back there,” she confessed, wearing worried eyes.
“Aw, come on, Baby Girl.”
“Please don't call me that.”
Irish suddenly felt cheap. Like a whore instead of a fourteen-year-old teenager.
“Why not? You did good. Here, you earned this.”
He held a twenty-dollar bill out, as Irish looked at it. She didn’t know much but she felt taking the money would make her complicit. Almost as if Emanuel was buying her discomfort.
“You can go to the store and get so many snacks with this money. I’m still going to buy you an outfit, too. Take it.”
Irish swallowed hard and grabbed the bill. Somehow, it felt like she had sold herself. As if life would never be the same because she’d allowed Emanuel to use her to his advantage.
“Now, let’s go to Applebee’s.”
“I don’t wanna go anymore.”
Emanuel gaped. “Why not? Don’t you wanna get the sampler? It’s your favorite.”
