Read Online Somebody's Daughter by Phonse; Jessome - Free Book Online Page B

o’clock—a prime slice of the section of Church Street referred to by the prostitutes, the pimps and Toronto police officers as the Scotian Stroll, so named because the pimps who had laid claim to it years before were from Halifax. The girls came not only from the Maritimes but also from Quebec, Ontario and many other areas of the country. Teenagers from small towns out west; young women from Montreal; girls from rural Ontario—they were all lined up next to their Maritime “sisters” in the Scotian Stroll, hoping to earn enough to keep their pimps happy. For the first time, Stacey Jackson of Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, was one of them.

    Young girls work the Scotian stroll a block from Annie Mae’s favorite corner. [Print from ATV video tape]
    Stacey had been on the stroll less than five minutes when a man in a blue Jeep crooked his finger and signalled her. Terrified, Stacey turned her back and walked away, hoping one of the other girls would approach him instead, but Annie Mae blocked them, making sure no-one moved on her friend’s first date. “Stacey turn around girl, that man wants you,” she hissed, grabbing Stacey and spinning her back towards the curb and the waiting Jeep. The man behind the wheel was much more attractive than any of the guys who frequented the escort agency; in his mid-thirties, he had a slim build and a handsome face.
    â€œWell, are you going to say anything?” The man leaned across the seat and smiled at Stacey, obviously attracted by her youthful nervousness.
    â€œHi—um—” What should she say? The other men had always told her what they wanted. “Can I help you?” He smiled again: “I sure hope you can. How much for a blow?”
    Well, at least he’d come out and asked—and Stacey knew the answer, too, because Kenny had told her. “Eighty dollars, she said, more confidently.
    â€œFair enough. Get in.” Stacey jumped into the vehicle and the man pulled away from the curb, keeping up a steady stream of conversation as he turned a few corners. She wasn’t watching exactly where he was going, intent as she was on paying attention to the stranger by her side. Years later, as she recalled the incident, she shook her head at her own naiveté. “I was pretty stupid; I mean, he could have taken me anywhere and killed me. As soon as we left the curb, I was lost. I couldn’t tell him where to go, and I didn’t know if he was taking me somewhere dangerous.” Luckily, her first customer wanted “only” what he’d asked for. They pulled over in an alley, and he promptly parked the Jeep and unzipped his jeans. Stacey pulled a condom from her purse; the man placed it on his penis, and she leaned over, her hands shaking. She could barely catch her breath; she was so nervous. This apparently excited him all the more—before Stacey thought she had actually started, he was finished.
    Back at the stroll, as he dropped Stacey off, the man suggested he would see her some other night. She nodded numbly, looking for her friend. “Hey, girl, welcome to the club!” Annie Mae shouted. “Better call Kenny and tell him you broke.” Stacey couldn’t believe the difference in Kenny’s tone; he sounded like her boyfriend again, and even apologized for cursing at her earlier in the evening—the drive from Nova Scotia always left him tired and cranky, he said. Despite his better mood he told Stacey she couldn’t come back to the apartment just yet, she had to pull in a lot more money first: five hundred should do it. Five hundred dollars! How could she possibly earn that much? Slowly returning to the stroll from a nearby phone booth, she told Annie Mae what Kenny had said. “Don’t you worry about that,” her friend consoled. “You’ll make more than that before midnight. These guys know when there’s new talent on the stroll. Annie Mae knew what she was