When they arrived back at Michael’s condo that night, he sat her down and said “I know that was tough for you. But this is how it’s going to be from now on. It’s business, not personal.” Anastacia glared at him, feeling betrayed and still hurting. Michael pulled her face close to his and said menacingly “If you ever think of taking off, first of all, those are real powerful guys I’m dealing with. Second, I know a lot of people on the street and I’ll find you. Trust me, it won’t be nice if I have to track you down.” She knew he meant it.
The next few months were a blur for Anastacia. Evenings of getting high, being driven to meet various clients of Michael’s, returning home late, sleeping until noon. Sometimes another driver would take her to the appointments. He was a burly black man with no-nonsense look about him. But whenever he saw Anastacia he gave a cheerful “Hi Annie, how you doing?” He’d always be waiting after the appointment was over, gently putting his arm around Anastacia while leading her to the car. It almost felt protective, except that he was driving her to and from the most awful people she’d met in her short life. Sometimes he’d take Anastacia to her favorite fast food joint after the appointment. She’d gorge on a hamburger and fries, washing it down with a sweet iced tea. The driver seemed to enjoy watching her eat, telling Anastacia “Take your time Annie, we’re not in a rush.” He was tough and hardened by life, but had a soft spot for Anastacia.
Anastacia kept planning her escape. Every time Michael gave her pocket money, she hid away as much as she could. Soon Anastacia had a few thousand dollars saved up and decided it was time to make her break. One night she asked the driver if she could use the bathroom at the restaurant. Anastacia ran through the back door and out back out to the street, flagging down a taxi and getting dropped at a divey motel in the bad part of town. There was no way Michael would ever bother coming down here for her.
That was two years ago. Anastacia’s life had been tough, her drug habit keeping her in a life of prostitution, always working for the temporary relief of her next fix. She’d been working the streets ever since escaping from Michael, meeting other hookers who showed her the ropes. In a way, they became like a family to her, warning each other when cops were nearby, sharing connections to score.
Tonight, Anastacia had a bad feeling before going to work. One of her tricks tried to rip her off this week. She’d pulled her knife and he let her out of the car. However, the girls had seen him driving by again last night.
Was this the night Anastacia’s luck would run out? (the conclusion of she died a queen)
