The Secret Sister M. DeLuca (read 50 shades of grey .txt) 📖

this way and that. “You like? All this cost more’n three hundred bucks.”

I glanced through my raggedy bangs. “Looks okay for turning tricks. Where’d you get the money?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, tapping the side of her nose.

“You working for that Earl guy?”

“Might be.”

“Earl’s our buddy,” said Loni. “He done some favors for us, so we do favors for him. Get dressed up. Go to nice parties. Act friendly. Meet some real nice guys.”

“In other words,” said Birdie with some emphasis, “we get paid to have fun. Something you’ll never understand.”

I shrugged. It sounded like the worst job in the world. “I guess. If you like that sort of thing.”

Birdie flew towards me. Feeling the heat of her anger, I tried not to look up. “You’re such a snob. Always judging me. Think you’re better and smarter than everyone else. All you do is sit in a corner and read about life. You never tried living it.”

I slammed the book down. “You came here to give me shit?”

“You’re wasting your time, Birdie,” said Loni. “Let’s get out of this toilet and go to the Martini bar.”

I glanced up. “You’re not old enough to drink.”

Birdie looked smug. “Earl got us ID. We can go to any club we want because he knows everybody. Not like you, still drinking your Burger King pop and milkshakes. Anyway, I came to make you an offer – one time only. I can pay to get you cleaned up so’s Earl might be interested in hiring you. I’ll take the money from my own pocket.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather have all my teeth pulled without freezing, than work for that pimp scum.”

“Suit yourself, I guess you got your reasons.” Her painted lips drooped at the corners. For a moment I caught a glimpse of the old Birdie, the wacky kid with skinny spider legs and a fragile heart. A thick wave of emotion flooded into my heart, but I turned away before she saw the tears welling in my eyes. “But I really mean it. You’re my sister after all.”

“You said your piece, now let’s get the hell out before some fat-assed social worker comes and takes you in,” said Loni, grabbing her shoulder.

I looked up through my hair at Birdie who still hadn’t made a move. “You don’t have to do everything she says. You got your own mind.”

Loni elbowed Birdie aside and stood in front of me, legs planted firmly apart. I thought of Ursula the sea witch from an old Disney movie. “Bitch – you lost your say in her life a long time ago. She’s someone else’s now. Tell her, baby. Tell her.”

Birdie closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Come on, sugar. Tell big sissy what you done.”

Blood rushed in my ears, like the sound the wind makes when you lean out of the window of a fast-moving car. “What did you do, Birdie? Tell me and we’ll fix it.”

“Ain’t no fixing now, baby. Now you made a promise,” said Loni in that saccharin voice.

Birdie pursed her lips together. Her eyeliner was smudged.

“Check this out,” said Loni, lifting up Birdie’s tiny shirt and exposing her bony back. Written in large flourishing loops across her skin, on either side of her nubbly spine was a name, Earl J. Rafferty.

I jolted upright. “It’s not too late, Birdie. We can get out of here. Find Dennis. He’ll take us in. I have money.”

Loni tried to hook her arm into Birdie’s but she shook it away, her eyes fixed on mine. Daring me to jump up, grab her and not let go. “It’s too late,” she said.

“Damned right, Birdie,” said Loni. “You don’t break promises with Earl.”

Birdie reached into her purse. “I gotta go.”

“I mean it, Birdie. I’ll look after you. We’ll be okay.” I scrambled to my feet and caught her wrist in my hand. Suddenly Loni was in my face. Her green eyes glowed like alien cat eyes.

“Bitch don’t get it. She ain’t going with you. And if you try and take her, I’ll send Earl’s man to mess you up so bad nobody will want you. Now c’mon, Birdie.”

Birdie stuffed a wad of bills into my hand. “I can look after myself, Anna,” she whispered. “Don’t worry.”

I stuffed it back into her hand. “I don’t want your whore money. You sold yourself to a pimp.”

She shrugged. “It’s just a job. I’ll do it until I save enough money to go to Vegas. I can be a dancer there.”

I grabbed her skinny wrist so hard I could almost snap it. “Idiot – he’ll never let you go.”

Loni’s hand was on my throat so fast my arms flew upwards, releasing Birdie. “I could end it right here,” she hissed. “Just say the word, Birdie.”

Tiny white dots of light danced around in front of my eyes. Birdie shook her head. “Let her go.”

And before I could stop her, they were gone, leaving only a cloud of cheap perfume behind them.

After a productive day at school helping Robin fill in the paperwork for Carla’s teen support program, I dropped by Linda Martin’s office to find her in a flurry of activity sorting papers into piles and stashing them into a filing cabinet.

“I’m off to Cancun tomorrow. A week in the glorious sun sipping on margaritas and lying on the beach. Can’t wait to leave this behind,” she said, glancing out of the window at the overcast sky and the thin curtain of drizzle that blurred the outlines of buildings and trees. I shivered, imagining her lumpy body in a bathing suit. Would she choose one of those floral types with a little skirt at the thigh or maybe a tankini with a loose flap to disguise her pudgy midriff? I chastised myself for being so superficial and slumped into my usual chair. She fidgeted with her stapler and hole punch, shifting them from one side of her desk to the other. Easy to tell only half her mind was on work.

I leaned forward