“How ‘bout let me go!” I scratch at his hand.
“So you can target some other poor sucker?”
“You calling yourself a sucker?” I smart off.
“Do I look like a sucker right now?” He pulls my blonde locks harder, and my scalp burns.
“No!” I yelp.
“That’s right, sly little fox. I never have been, or ever will be, a sucker. And I think you need to be taught a lesson by a non-sucker.” He pushes me forward so my stomach lands on his thigh, knocking the wind out of me. My coat falls over my head from the sharp angle, then a kiss of cold air pinches my bare ass.He pulled my pants down!
I feel the impact of the first slap, and I jolt from the surprise and the sting.He’s spanking me!
“Bad little girls get punished.” He chuckles darkly as he hit me again and again.He thinks it’s fucking funny!
“Get off me!” I struggle as the needling December air and his hot slaps merge into one annoying sensation across my naked ass.
“Stop!” I screech, and I swear he hit me harder just because he can. When he’s finished, he rips his leg from underneath me, and I fall flat on my face. I’m winded, in pain, and totally ashamed. I don’t want to get up. I just want to cry in the dirt like the street rat I am. But I don’t. I refuse. So, I push myself off the ground without his permission or order. He doesn’t say a word, he just watches as I stand and pull up my thin black leggings. I keep my head held high even though I feel like a helpless child. I haven’t been a child in a very long time. Three years, to be exact. Ever since I decided being homeless was safer than having a home.
“The spirit in you,” the tall, well-dressed man with the paddle for a palm says, almost in wonder.Weirdo.
He fixes himself, brushing off his arms and adjusting his coat.
“Are we fucking done?” I spit. The tears are threatening, and the last thing I want is for this asshole to see me cry.
“Almost.” He snatches my wrist and pulls the thin gold ring around my index finger off.
“Hey!” I lunge at him to get it back. “That’s mine, you fucker!”
“The mouth on you!” He backhands me while I’m still in motion, and I fly back against the brick wall like a tennis ball being volleyed. I smack my head and cradle my face. Those tears I didn’t want him to see? There’s no stopping them now. They run down my face like pouring rain.
“You steal from me, I steal from you.” I spy him putting the ring inside his jacket pocket. Anger spikes in my chest.
“An eye for an eye, huh?” I snivel, hiding my inflamed cheek.
“Exactly, little fox.”
That ring is the only valuable thing I own. Not because it’s gold, but because it was my mother’s. It’s the only thing I have from either of my parents. For the most part I’m an orphan, but when my biological mother overdosed when I was ten, a social worker showed up at the foster home I was living in and delivered a box with her things. Most of it was junk, except for the gold ring, which I put on my finger and never took off. I don’t even really know if it belonged to her, or if it was just a hot item she was going to hock. It didn’t matter to me either way. It was in her possession at the time, so in my eyes it was hers. It was my only link to her. And now that shithead has it.
“Are you done punishing me?” I ask with my jaw clenched. My ego is black and blue, and I’m sure my cheek and ass will be, too.
“I am. Yes. The state of New York, probably not.” He takes my arm, and I immediately try to yank myself out of his grasp. “Good effort, foxy, but I’m bigger and stronger and smarter.” He drags me out of the alleyway the same way he dragged me in. With me kicking and screaming. “You have a lot to learn. Officer!” He yells to a man leaning against a parked car across the street. “I’ve got a live one. Pickpocket. I want to press charges.”
“What?” I cry outraged. “You spanked me in the alley. Wasn’t that punishment enough?”
“Don’t listen to her.” The man hands me over to the officer, who promptly handcuffs me. “She’s deranged. I’m sure she’ll say just about anything to get out of being arrested.”
“This one?” The officer in street clothes looks down at me in disdain. “I wouldn’t doubt it. Little punks are all the same.”
“The only punks around here are the two of you!” I kick off the side of the cop car trying to break free.
“You did find a live one.” The cop laughs as he strong arms me into the back of the unmarked cruiser. I protest with profanities the whole time until he slams the door in my face.Fuck!I kick the back of the driver’s seat.Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!This is a fucking mess. All I can hear is the echo of the judge’s threat the last time I stood in front of him.“Miss James, the next time you end up in this courtroom, I am reprimanding you to the juvenile detention center until your eighteenth birthday. Do I make myself clear? Clean up your act.”
I’ve been arrested twice in the last year for petty theft. Both times I got off with a stern warning and probation. Child Services placed me in a new foster home, and a week later I was back on the streets. My last arrest was three months ago. My face and rap sheet will be fresh in the judge’s mind. I’m completely screwed.
The officer and the man spend several minutes talking outside the car. Every now and then a cloud of smoke from their breaths billows by the window. What could they possibly be talking about? He’s pressin’ fucking charges. Drive me to the station so we can get this over with.
The cop whistles, long and high pitched as he slides into the beat-up driver’s seat. “You’re lookin’ at some jail time, little lady.”
