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“You’re on the streets? You been messed with?” Big Al asked, watching her face. He saw fear flit across it and a memory of something distasteful. Tati had been attacked at least once, he noted.
“A pimp attempted to get me for his stable, but I fought him off and ran. Another guy tried to rape me; they’re still looking for his balls. I cut them off,” Tati elaborated, in case Big Al didn’t receive the message.
Big Al smirked. He’d caught her meaning alright and was pretty proud of how this slip of a girl had handled herself.
“Know how to use a gun?” Tati’s gaze widened, and she shook her head.
“Nope,” she popped out.
He recognised what Tati saw. He was a huge guy, all muscle, arms bulging with biceps and his thighs thick with corded muscle. Big Al knew he was attractive, with warm brown eyes and lashes women would kill for, his face all planes and angles and clean-shaven. He may be forty-two, but he was in the prime of his life. Tati sat perched calmly, watching him. Big Al idly wondered what she thought of him as a man, not a pretty face.
“In two weeks, you’ll know how to use a gun. You will learn proper handgun care and start self-defence lessons,” Big Al said.
Tati’s eyebrows shot into her hair.
“Will I now?” she hissed.
Big Al turned a stern look on her.
“I got a couple’a of options, kid. Throw you back on the streets, and you won’t last long. Eventually, a pimp will have you, break that spirit of yours, and grind you down. Ain’t liking that option too well. Next up is I return you to those sorry motherfucking foster parents, and the same shit happens. You get raped, run away, and end up in a pimp’s stable. Fancy either of those two?”
“Why the fuck do I end up in a pimp’s stable each time?” Tati demanded.
“Because you’re a fuckin’ wet dream to any pervert out there. Younger than your years and sweet as molasses. Any man will want to bury himself straight between your legs whether you’re willing or not,” Big Al replied bluntly, and Tati blushed. Yeah, she still retained her innocence.
“What’s my other option?”
“You are under my protection. I don’t got time for kids or a woman, Hellfire’s going to shit, and I and a few others are struggling to keep ourselves clean. So, baby, you’re a fuckin’ complication I do not need or want. But you landed in my lap. And I ain’t Dodge or the rest of the fuckers that would have dragged you out back and fucked you whether you said yay or nay.”
“So what does protection mean? I won’t fuck you,” Tati reiterated her earlier words.
“You’re a bit too innocent for a guy like me. I enjoy women who know how to get down and dirty, not cry when I spank them,” Big Al replied.
Tati bristled.
He deliberately smirked at her and watched her blush again.
“Elaborate!” Tati snapped.
“Spanking or my protection?” Big Al teased and observed frustration flit across her face. Damn, he was enjoying this.
“Protection!” Tati ground out as if it was a cuss word.
“We will go to your foster parents and have a pleasant chat. The cheques they get for you, they’ll cash and give the money to you. They ain’t getting it if you’re not under their roof. Should I deem them dangerous to other kids, we’ll scrap that, and I’ll ensure they never foster another kid. I think we’ll end up doing the latter, especially if the father wanted to fuck you.
“You’ll go to school, one of my choosing, a good fuckin’ school and get an education. I’ll give you an allowance, and it’s yours to do as you wish. No drugs, booze, or any other shit. I’ll get a better apartment, and you can have your own bedroom. Once we got you educated and you choose a career, I’ll set you up, and you’ll go on your merry way,” Big Al explained.
“And what do you gain?” Tati challenged.
Big Al stared at her as long moments passed.
“Redemption. Hellfire’s going to go dark, and I need something to save my soul from Hell,” Big Al finally said. “If I can spare one innocent from nightmares, maybe God will have mercy on me.”
Tati.
I stood staring at the gigantic man in front of me. Was Big Al genuinely giving me a way out, or was this a fucking game to him? Then again, Big Al was a massive fucker. If he wanted sex, I wouldn’t be able to stop him. This could be my final chance at a decent future, and while wary, could I afford to refuse Big Al? Life on the streets wasn’t for me. I had been attacked several times and barely missed getting raped. I couldn’t get a job without an education.
“Fine!” I was surprised to hear the word leave my lips. “But we need a bigger home, a house or two-bed apartment. I’d like a dog, something we can train to guard me. Yeah, I’ll get an education, but I don’t want to be around those scumbags at your gang. I’ll cook and clean and do housework, but you’ve got to pull your weight too. Ain’t your slave,” I threw out my demands, and Big Al laughed.
