Chapter 1

Zach had known Isabel was trouble when they had first met. She’d been a party girl in college, staying out till far too late, drinking, smoking and coking it up. He’d had his fair share of late nights and drugs as well, but he knew when to stop. Or at least take a break for a minute. They met halfway through their sophomore year and started dating toward the end of it. A year later mutual cheating had driven them apart, but when they moved to the same city by chance after graduation Zach only remembered the good times and hooked back up with her.

Maybe it was her body. She had an amazing figure; 34D with an hourglass shape, tan skin and long straight auburn hair. Her hips came out of nowhere from her flat stomach before turning into long, dark, slender legs. She was entertaining to be around as well, sober or using. When she was off the drugs she was intelligent and very personable. When she was on them she was a wild child. Zach could barely keep up with her sexual appetite and she loved dressing up and going out to get some attention before heading back home to rock Zach’s world.

So even though he knew she was trouble after another year of dating during which neither had cheated, and really they’d hardly even had a fight, he decided he was in love and proposed. Isabel gleefully accepted. He’d been the boy that got away in college and she had nailed her second chance. The first year of their marriage turned out to be uneventful, or as uneventful as any time with Isabel can be, but Zach noticed that the split between intelligent, personable Isabel and party animal Isabel was increasingly getting skewed toward the latter. She’d even recently been fired from her job for poor attendance. He’d almost worked up the nerve to say something when she went missing for a week after a trip to their dealer. The phone rang.

“Your bitch is here, you need to get here now.”

Fuck, it was Darren. Better to get a call from him, Zach figured, than from the police at least. Or maybe that’s what she needed.

“Is she alright?” Zach asked.

“Now.” The phone clicked.

Darren was a kind of mutual friend of theirs and Zach figured if she were in any sort of physical trouble he’d have sounded more concerned and told him. Isabel usually dealt with him, but both had been over to his place more times than Zach could count. He was a fairly intimidating in shape black guy that they had met together out at a rave. He loved to introduce himself as the guy that sold everything, usually repeating the word ‘everything’ with an unsettling stare. Zach wasn’t exactly afraid of him, but sure didn’t want to ever end up on his bad side.

Zach pulled up at the building and knocked on the door. It looked like an abandoned industrial building, which is exactly what it had been before Darren bought it to open a ‘Day Spa.’ There was no sign, just a little bullseye on the door. A badly concealed camera scanned him over and he heard the lock unlatch. He pushed open the door and made his way to the back, past some busy sounding rooms, to Darren’s office.

“Hey baby,” Isabel’s voice sang out from the corner. She was in a dirty white tank top, probably the one she’d left in a week ago, with no pants on, just a pair of bright pink boy shorts Zach didn’t recognize. She was shaking and looked terrified, though who of Zach didn’t know.

“We need to talk,” Darren said, looking very serious from behind his wooden desk. Zach looked down at Isabel disapprovingly and shook his head. “Look, you know I like you two. I’ve dealt with you a while and never had a problem. Now we got a problem.”

“What happened?” Zach asked, very little emotion in his voice.

“Your bitch ran up a tab. Said she had the money. Showed us some bank statements that I guess weren’t really hers.” Isabel started to shake even more. “Used some real good shit. Some real expensive shit.”

“How much does she owe?” Zach asked running a quick total of their finances in his head. They owned two cars but they weren’t very nice. They rented an apartment and had barely any savings.

“Twenty. Thousand. Dollars.” Zach’s eyes opened wide and he felt a rage growing inside him. “And that’s not even counting the shit she fucked guys for.” The rage almost boiled over. “I didn’t fuck your girl, but three of my boys did, and she did all that shit willingly.”

Isabel started to cry and Zach walked toward her hand drawn back. He was barely able to stop himself from hitting her. He collected himself and turned back toward Darren.

“Look, I don’t have that sort of money...”

“No shit. So you got any propositions for how I get my motherfucking money back?” Darren cocked his head to the side, mouth open, staring Zach in the eye.

“I ... I don’t know.” Zach sat down. “I’m open to ideas I guess.”

“Good. Cause I’ve got an idea.” Darren looked over at the pretty, filthy girl in the corner of the room. “As you know, I’m a man who sells everything.” He stood up and walked over by her and put his hand on her head. “Everything.”

Zach looked down. He wasn’t mad at Darren; he was just a business man. He was furious at his wife. The choice was easy.

“So what does that entail, exactly?”

“Well, I like you, so I’m willing to make you a deal. She works for me 4 days a week. Keeps her fresh anyway. She goes back home to you the other 3. Should have it worked off in...” Darren looked up, doing the math, “about 2 months.”

“Just in time for Christmas,” Zach said, emotionless again. Darren smiled.

“Thursday Friday Saturday Sunday are the best days for whoring,” he said sitting back down. “You can pick her up Monday morning, drop her off here Thursday morning. Earlier the better. More Johns she gets in the quicker it goes.”

“Is she going to be, like, out on the street?” Zach asked, walking back toward Isabel and staring her down.

“No, no” Darren laughed. “It’s the 21st century. Whoring’s all set up online now. And guys that know I’m around.” Zach nodded.

“Let’s go,” he said to Isabel who slowly stood up. She reached out to try and hug him but Zach stepped away. Isabel dejectedly followed him out to his car.

As her mind began to clear she started to feel worse and worse about so many different things. She’d cheated on her husband, several times, for drugs. That same husband had agreed to whore her out without an argument. She’d gone to Darren’s to have a good time and forget about getting fired from her job, but things had just gotten more and more out of control.

“Do you still love me?” she asked weakly as they reached the car.

“Get in,” he said, not making eye contact and opening his door.

“Baby, do you still love me?” Tears welled up in her eyes. Zach stared at her until she climbed into the car.

They drove in silence for several minutes. Isabel extended her hand toward her husband several times but he kept both of his on the steering wheel. She curled her knees up into her chest and looked out the window, trying not to break down.

“If I didn’t love you I’d have just left you there for good,” he said finally, eyes still glued to the road. “You’re a fucking idiot. And an addict. The only way I’m going to stay with you is if you promise to get help after this is over.”

Isabel nodded. She was relieved to still have a chance with her husband. She knew he’d back down from forcing her into treatment; she could control herself, she’d just gotten a little carried away.

“Every time you are on your fucking back I want you to think about what you’re putting me through,” he continued passionately. “I’ve never done anything like this to you.”

“You fucked Ashley,” Isabel said, feeling like he was beating up on her needlessly.

“Oh, you want to fucking bring up college shit now?” Zach looked over at her and she cowered a little more.

“No,” she said quietly. She had far more dirty laundry than him.

They got home and Zach walked in, leaving Isabel behind alone in the car. She wept to herself for nearly an hour, curling up in the seat. The more she sobered up the more she remembered, and the more she remembered the more she hated herself. She had to relive the second day, when she’d run out of her own money and offered to go home with one of Darren’s friends to smoke some more. The third, when she’d returned with some faked paperwork to show Darren that she had plenty of cash to pay him with. The two guys she’d gone home with that night she couldn’t even blame on the drugs; she just wanted two black cocks in her at once. The more she thought about it the more surprised she was that Zach was even considering ever forgiving her.

“Go take a shower, you’re disgusting,” Zach yelled to her from the kitchen as she walked in the house. He was right, she looked and smelled awful. She broke down again while bathing herself as she saw and felt the bruises on her chest. The last guys had been rough, and she was sure she had bite marks on her back to match them. She blasted the water as hot as it would go and scrubbed herself raw.

When she descended back down the stairs she looked like a whole different person. Her hair was straight and clean instead of a clumpy mess. Her makeup was fresh instead of smeared. Her black camisole top and white shorts fit her perfectly instead of being stretched out, filthy garments. Zach looked at her and could only think one things though. Still the same whore. Still the same whore she was in college. Still the same whore she was last week.

Isabel sat down next to her husband who was eating a sandwich. There wasn’t one for her.

“I’m so sorry Zach,” she said, leaning against him. At least now he didn’t pull away. “I didn’t mean for anything like this to happen.”

“No shit,” he said between mouthfuls.

“I was just ... upset. You know I loved that job, and losing it...”

“Was your own goddamn fault.” Zach finished eating and walked into the living room, leaving his wife behind. She followed him in and sat next to him on the couch as he flipped through channels.

“It wasn’t fair for them to fire me. There are other people there that miss way more often.” Zach finally looked back over at her.

“I swear to god if you try to justify anything you’ve done one more time I’m going to hit you. I’ve never laid a finger on you before Isabel, but one more word.” The threat sent a chill through the air.

“But babe, I just wanted to get my mind off of...” WHACK. The back of Zach’s hand smashed against Isabel’s check and sent her reeling to the floor. He bent down and followed it up with two more hard smacks in the face.

“Listen here you fucking slut,” he screamed, holding her up by her hair and towering over her. “I’m never going to pity you. You fucked three men in the last week that weren’t your husband. You got yourself fired from your job by being a fucking junkie. You ran up a twenty thousand fucking dollar tab at a dealer’s house. You should be feeling sorry for me for putting up with your worthless ass.” He threw her to the floor and walked to their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Zach was beside himself with rage. He’d never hit his wife or any woman for that matter, but he rationalized it to himself by thinking that his wife wasn’t a woman anymore. She was a whore. Or she was about to be. He stayed by himself for several hours browsing the internet. He finally started to calm down and felt some regret for what he’d done.

When he walked back to the living room he found Isabel in the exact position he’d left her. She was sobbing quietly but she hadn’t moved for hours. He walked over and knelt down next to her, picking her head up in his arms and holding it. Her check was a little swollen.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking into her eyes and running his fingers through her hair. “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“Yes you should have,” she replied quietly. “I deserved it.”

“I shouldn’t have.” He kept stroking her hair and held her whole upper body in his arms.

“I’ll do anything to make it up to you,” she promised, looking up at him, a little hope starting to swell in her chest again.

“We’ll worry about that after everything’s over,” he said. He helped her to her feet and they sat down on the couch. Isabel started to turn on the TV but Zach stopped her.

“Isabel, I want to know what happened,” he said, giving her a look that wasn’t quite anger but certainly wasn’t calming. “In detail.” She looked up at him, lips quivering a little. “I won’t get angry, or at least I don’t think I will. But what’s worst for me is not knowing. I want to know.”

“Well,” she started, looking away and squeezing the hem of her shorts tightly between her fingers, “I went over there and started to buy...” Zach stopped her.

“Not the drugs. The sex.” Isabel nodded.

“The first guy, I don’t know his name. He called himself T. I had run out of money and out of stuff and he was hanging out while I was telling Darren I was good for the money.” Zach nodded for her to continue. “He offered to take my back to his place. He said he had some coke and some other stuff. We went back and snorted it, and...” her voice trailed off. She was clearly uncomfortable.

“What did he look like,” Zach said, stroking her back, trying to reassure her.

“He was big, sort of fat I guess. He was black, he said he played football somewhere down south.” Zach nodded.

“How big was he? His dick?” Isabel paused for a moment.

“Big. Like, really big.”

“Bigger than mine?” Isabel looked up at him. This was killing her. He didn’t stop staring until she answered.

“Yes,” she said weakly. Tears started to form in her eyes.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Zach said, almost smiling. “How did it start? The sex?”

“Well, after the first couple lines he said that was all I got for free. That now I had to ‘blow for more blow.’” They both chuckled at the line. “So I did.”

“How did it feel?”

“I wasn’t really thinking clearly,” she said, honestly trying to remember any details about the day. “It was sort of a blur. And it was quick. He came in my mouth and we went back to the coke.”

“Who’s idea was it to fuck?” Zach asked, still calmly.

“I don’t remember,” Isabel said sheepishly. “I stayed there that night, we just sort of did it.”

“Did he wear a condom?” Isabel shook her head and looked down. “How many times?”

“I’m not sure. Four? Three? It’s all just a blur. The next morning I used his computer to print off the stuff I took to Darren.” Zach nodded.

“That’s enough for now.” He held her and rubbed her head just like she liked.

“I don’t want to go back. Can’t we just run or something?” Zach shook his head.

“You have to make this right. Darren will come after you, and if I’m helping you he’ll come after both of us. If you want to run it’s going to have to be without me.”

She sat and thought for several minutes. Zach was the only semi-stable thing she’d had in her life. Her father had left when she was young, her mom died when she was a teenager. She’d bounced between a few aunts’ houses before heading off to college. She couldn’t imagine life without him almost as much as she couldn’t imagine life without drugs. If this was what she had to do then she’d do it, as painful as it would be.

The next morning Zach was a little surprised to find Isabel still curled up next to him in bed. He’d half expected her to make a run for it. Maybe there was some hope after all. It was Wednesday, and he’d be dropping her off at Darren’s the next day. He kissed her goodbye and sped off to work.

Isabel tried to make herself busy while her husband was at work but the impending sense of dread about what she’d be going through tomorrow put a drag on the entire day. She tidied up the house and did the laundry that had piled up in her absence. She knew she had some drugs hidden throughout the house but managed to distract herself until Zach got home a little after five. He suggested they go out to dinner and she happily agreed.

She tried to bring up the topic of what would happen the next day but Zach just waved her off, telling her boring stories about work. She appreciated that he was trying to keep her mind off of things but felt a little bit like a child as he dominated the conversation. He sensed her frustration and they spent the second half of their dinner in silence. Finally on the way home he relented.

“So tomorrow,” he started, not looking over, “I’ll drop you off on my way to work. I guess you should take some clothes and toothpaste and stuff.” She nodded. “I don’t...” his voice trailed off and he fought to keep his composure, “I don’t want you to feel bad about all this. Just get through it and we’ll work from there.” Seeing her husband tear up a little made Isabel feel extra awful about the situation. She rubbed her face, still a little sore from where he’d hit her. She hoped this wouldn’t change him.

The next morning they got up together. Isabel took a long shower and grabbed the bag she’d packed the night before. Zach handed her a plate of breakfast but she was too nervous to eat anything and walked to the car, her knees in her chest again.

“Do you really want to run?” he asked as they neared Darren’s office, feeling a little unsure of himself.

“We can’t.” Her voice was quiet. He knew she was right.

“I mean, he’d not stop looking for us. Darren doesn’t fuck around.”

“I know. I said we can’t.” She was starting to get frustrated again.

“I’m just saying, I know this isn’t going to be fun, but there’s no other choice.” He was talking to himself as much as her.

“I said I know!” she yelled. She rocked back and forth a little, trying to calm down. Zach made the final turn and stopped the car in front of Darren’s.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to deal with this,” he said, looking down.

“Don’t worry about it. Just try to keep your mind on other things.” Isabel leaned across the console and kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said as she got out of the car. He sped off; he couldn’t watch her walk through the door.

Darren was waiting when Isabel walked through the door. He smiled and extended his hand.

“So glad you could make it!” he said, taking her bag. He led her to a back room. “And so odd to see you sober.” Isabel bristled a little.

“I’m not always high, just when I’d come around here. That’s why I’d be here.”

“Well if there were ever a time you’d want to be fucked up, today might have been it.” He dropped her bag in front of a door. “This is your room. You’ll stay in there unless you’ve got permission to leave or you’re cleaning up. Don’t have the TV on when a client is about to show up.” He took her arm and dragged her to another room down the hall. It had some showers and a couple racks of clothing. Two girls were in there already. “This is the dressing room. You can find some appropriate clothing to wear then head back to your room to wait. We handle the money before the guy comes back to your room so don’t ask for more. Girls, be nice to her, it’s her first day.” He left her.

The two girls looked her up and down. One was a skinny black girl with long curly jet black hair. She had a bikini top and denim shorts on. The other was a short, curvy blonde white girl with tattoos up and down her sides. She was topless with a towel around her waist.

“You don’t belong here you stupid chola,” the black girl said, stepping toward her aggressively. The other girl gave her a hard elbow and glared at her.

“Shut the fuck up, you fake street acting bitch.” She extended her hand. “I’m Diamond and this bitch,” she looked over, glaring again, “is Ivy. She’s softer than melted cheese.”

“I’m Isabel,” she said nervously, taking Diamond’s hand.

“Is that your real name?” Diamond asked, cocking her head to the side. Isabel nodded and both of the other girls started laughing. “Never give people your real name,” she said after a minute.

“I know, let’s call her Taco,” Ivy said, laughing hard.

“I’m not even Mexican!”

“You look Mexican you stupid little chola.” Now Isabel took a step toward Ivy. Ivy’s eyes got wide and she backed off. Diamond laughed hard.

“Let’s keep it simple,” Diamond said, sizing her up. “Whatever you are you look Hispanic, how does Karla with a ‘K’ sound? Hispanic but not too ethnic.”

“Sure, that will work.” Isabel felt like her identity was being taken away from her a little, but some separation might help for the next two months.

“Now let’s do something about this outfit.” Isabel was wearing a blue plaid button down top and white denim shorts. She looked horrified as Diamond started to unbutton her shirt. “You’re not a girl these guys meet at the bar, you’re a hooker. They expect a hooker when they show up. We’re here to be sure things, not surprise them.” She ripped off the shirt and pulled down the shorts, leaving her in her underwear. “These will work at least.” She handed her a crop cut white button down shirt and a short black skirt. Isabel uncomfortably put them on, attempting to ignore thoughts about where they’d been.

“So how many guys usually come by in a day?” she asked as she hiked the skirt up around her hips.

“Like a million,” Ivy said, “and they’re all big scary black guys. You fucking rookie.”

“God dammit Ivy you’ve been here for like two weeks, shut the fuck up.” Diamond turned back toward Isabel. “It depends, but usually about four or five. Sometimes more, sometimes less.” Isabel’s face turned pale at the idea of sleeping with four or five guys in a day. Or even more. “You get used to it,” she said, slipping on a tank top of her own. “Now head off to your room, guys should be showing up before too long.” Isabel nodded and walked back toward the room with her bag in front of it.

The inside was nicer than she’d expected. It looked like a small but very classy hotel room. There was a mini-fridge stocked with cheap wine and beer and a TV mounted on the wall. The bed was a queen size with decent looking sheets and blankets, with extra sheets under the bed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. The phone in the room rang and she picked it up. It was Darren.