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“Ming was quiet. He wouldn’t look at me
or
the smiley dad guy. Clue Number One. But I was so hungry, I ignored it.

“
‘Like a lamb lost in the woods’
—the song playing on the radio—I followed smiley dad guy and sat down. He pushed the white tray across the orange tabletop. ‘Eat.’ I didn’t eat the burger and fries fast, I inhaled it. It’d take a stomach pump to get it back.

“I wasn’t really listening, but he was talking. Real casual. He
knew
how to talk to a kid without it seeming weird. Even though he was doing all the talking, I felt like we were having this normal conversation. Somehow, he made me forget he was a smiley dad type. Yeah, nothing strange about a thirteen-year-old girl sitting with a chatty middle-aged man on a rainy night. Clue Number Two. Coulda, woulda, I shoulda known. He was good at this because he had practiced.

“Plus, I forgot or ignored that he’d didn’t just stumble in off the street. He’d
called
. But who thinks like that? When you’re starving and wet.

“‘Hi, I’m Bob,’ he said. He asked me all these questions. ‘You just get into town?’ and ‘Are you a runaway?’ Fuckhead would
not shut up
. But he’d bought my burger, so I felt like I owed him something. Attention. I felt sorry for him. A guy his age, so lonely he buys thirteen-year-old girls burgers. ‘Are you gay?’

“I almost choked. ‘Well,
are
you?’ I said, ‘Bi.’ Bob got this real ‘concerned’ look on his face. A real social worker, that Bob. Or a priest. Someone who wanted to save me. Missionary Man. G-D on his side. He shook his head and said, ‘Geez, you kids got it hard.’

“The way he said it—OMG, I was such a sucker—I stopped. This was when I believed cops were public servants, not Nazis. ‘Bob,’ I said, ‘are you a cop?’

“‘Cops,’ he says, ‘don’t go buy burgers and milkshakes for kids.’

“Don’t take sugar—candy or
milkshakes
—from strangers. I had left my common sense outside. Clue Number Three. I ignored
how he
studied
me. All I did, get this, was lean forward and suck on the straw. I ignored the bad feelings. I thought, ‘No way, this can’t make someone excited.’ I didn’t care. Milkshake tasted
good
. Slid down perfect, too. Landed, plop, right on top of the burger and fries.

“His questions made
me
wonder, ‘Is Bob gay?’ One of those Good Gay Samaritans who drives around in the pouring rain on the lookout for gay runaways?

“He looked so much like someone’s dad. A
real
dad. I didn’t think to ask, ‘Why is Bob
alone
? Where’s his family?’ Oh, yeah, maybe they’re buried in the basement.

“I must have fallen into a hamburger, fries and milkshake coma. ’Cause here
I
was, talking to strangers, the
big thing
they warn you about in Girl Scouts. Did I remember? No, I was worried about dying from trans fat.

“‘Saw you standing there,’ he goes. ‘And it just about broke my heart.’ His voice cracked. He sounded so sad, so … sincere. I swear, I thought he would break down and bawl. Little Miss Skeptical didn’t stop to question why he was driving around Polk Street, at night, right after Gay fucking Pride.

“‘Try living my life,’ I said, all
tough
and streetwise. I was about to learn I was anything
but
tough. ‘That’s the heartbreak.’

“He looked at me. His face was wrinkled with ‘concern.’ Looking back, Bob the Big Bad Wolf was a
real
actor. He’d studied Hallmark movies in his spare time. Coz, he had the whole ‘Kiss Daddy Good Night’ act down. Voice, face, touch. He says, ‘What are you running away from, little girl?’

“‘Dunno,’ I said. I hadn’t totally lost my Jewish mind. There was
no way
I was telling him—or anyone—my real story.

“‘Everybody’s running away from something,’ he said. It felt like he
cared
.

“‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

“‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘Try me.’

“‘
Try me.
’ I felt like I was the guest star on some reality TV show about runaway teens. And, ‘Don’t be sure’? He made me doubt
myself
.

“It’s amazing I lived to tell. Bob wanted something from me. It wasn’t a secret. He laid it out. It was so planned. Down to the food. If I hadn’t ordered the burger, fries and milkshake, he would have. He
knew
the food would send me into a carb coma. I wouldn’t be capable of logical thought. I felt lucky he didn’t grab my hand and put it on Bob’s Hot Dog. Or jerk off under the table. I felt bad for him. Bob was so pathetic. This big, creepy dad type with sad, blue eyes. I’d totally fallen for his puppy-dog-in-the-window act. But he confused me. With all this stiff formal stuff. He put out his hand, like we were meeting for a business appointment. ‘Hello, my name is Bob. Or Dad. All the kids on Polk Street call me Dad.’

“‘Lorraine,’ I said. Lie number whatever spilled out my mouth. Effortless. I acted so tough. I knew I’d survive on the street
just fine
, thank you very much. ‘Yeah, Bob, but one father was more than enough.’

“His eyes. I couldn’t get over them. They were hypnotic.
So
blue. A
good
blue, too. Like blue eyes ‘meant’ something. I ordered myself, ‘Forget the eyes and sweet talk.’

“First, he hadn’t laid a finger on me. He’d been honest. There wasn’t much to lie about. His name? Being worried about runaways? The food he bought, now that was something real and good. He’d
fed
me. That counted for something. And there was just
something
about him. I trusted Bob. I wanted to trust him. Probably, I
needed
to trust him.

“I thought, ‘Maybe Bob’s my … guardian angel.’ I’m Jewish. We invented angels. Or Bob’s a
Prince!
So what if he was old enough to be the prince’s grandfather? I’d watched
The Little Mermaid
and
Sleeping Beauty
so many times, I was a walking Disney casualty. My head was filled with rescue fantasies and unicorns.

“‘If you want,’ he said, ‘we could just drive around till you dry out.’ No pressure, very casual. He gave me a choice:
that
got my attention. I studied him. I knew I could see what was wrong with him or bad, if I only looked hard enough. Problem was, I
had nothing to compare him to. Except, maybe, pervs on the Internet.

“So I said, ‘Sure,’ and he said, ‘My car’s parked by the curb.’ How convenient, right? Now, looking back on it, he wasn’t taking any chances.

“He opened the door. I got in and sat in the passenger’s seat. Bob drove a new Range Rover. Big. Warm.
Hella
warmer than Ming’s. I leaned toward the heater and tried to soak up the warmth and dry out. It felt so good in Bob’s car. I relaxed. I let down my guard.

“I felt better now that there was a car window between me and the street. The car pulled away. The speakers surrounded me, wrapped me in classical music. Bach. I didn’t like it, but it was stuff my parents would listen to. It felt familiar. ‘Lorraine, if you need a place to crash, I have an extra room.’

“His offer was so … generous. I relaxed. Now I knew I’d made a good choice. Only a
good
person would be willing to take in someone like me. Yeah, I felt a little pathetic. A little girl lost in the woods. Red Riding Hood stood outside, on the curb, jumping, trying to get my attention. Warn me about the Big, Bad Wolf. Stupidly, I ignored her….

“My head rolled to the side. Gave Bob another look. Bob wore a blue Windbreaker. Khaki pants with a crease down the middle. His deep voice, gosh, he sounded just so
sincere
. And he was the only person in a city filled with queers celebrating Gay Pride who’d bothered to look at me or even say, ‘Hi.’ I’d walked around the city and the whole day, I felt totally invisible. Looking at him, I thought, ‘Really, Bob could be
anyone’s
dad.’

“Bob turned the wheel. The car pulled into a dead-end alley. ‘Are you really one of those artist types who’s just fronting with that suburban dad outfit? Pretending you’re a cop?’ He’d smiled. ‘Yeah.’ I knew it! I’d worked it all out, his story. Based on nothing more than the fact that he’d parked his car in an alleyway. I told him, ‘I bet you’ve got some hella cool loft.’ He smiled. I said, ‘I knew it!’

“He put one hand behind my head and the other on my left knee. I was ready for him to lean over and give me a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ll let him,’ I thought. ‘Princesses are good, sweet and kind. They’re gracious. Even to old princes who should know better.’ He turned to me and said, ‘One question.’

“‘Yeah?’ I said. Secretly, I was worried he’d fallen in love with me. He was a prince, but there was no getting around the thirty-year age difference. I didn’t want to break his heart.

“‘Who’s your daddy?’

“I ignored the question. Asked, ‘Aren’t you taking me upstairs to your loft? I’m really tired. I need to sleep.’

“He smiled. The little voice said, ‘Get. Out.’ I reached for the door handle and pulled. It was locked.

“I knew. He dropped the dad act. Revealed his creepiness. ‘You suck cock.’ Not, ‘Do you suck cock?’ But ‘
You. Suck. Cock.
’

“‘Bob!’ I said. I was shocked. But my heart sank. I hoped he was kidding.

“‘You said you’re bi,’ Bob said. His hand stroked my leg. ‘Bob, stop that!’ He ignored me. He leaned over, pulled my face to his hands and mashed his mouth against mine. I tried to scream, but his mouth was eating mine. Bob might have
looked
old, but he was strong. Bob pinned me down…. I tried to, but I couldn’t get away. Believe me, I
tried
. I kicked my feet and clawed his face. I bit him—he socked my jaw. I heard it crack. My clothes, Oh My G-D, he ripped them off! I gave up. I did.

“I hit him with my fists, but I knew. I wasn’t getting out of that car until he did it to me. Held me down. Pushed my legs apart. Climbed on top. Stuck it in. I’d never done it before. I was a virgin. Down there, felt like someone was stabbing me with a dry knife. Felt like it was
never
going to end.

“When it did, end—when he finished and the electric locks clicked, he said, ‘Get out,
whore
.’ He pushed me
so hard
I fell out and landed facedown on the asphalt.

“The ground was wet. Puddles. My panties and jeans were down around my knees. I tried to pull them up.

“‘Don’t move,’ he said. I looked up, into his eyes. Scary, Coz
they’d gone from blue to red. ‘I’m
going to kill you
,’ he said. It went, ‘Click.’ A switchblade. He leaned over the seat and out the car and grabbed my hair and pulled me back and tried to cut my throat! I felt the metal blade on my skin. I closed my eyes. ‘Just get it over with, cut—’

I
press Pause. My arm’s wet. I look up. It’s sprinkling. The gray skies gone black. Rain’s on the way.

Crack!

Lightning. The sky blinks. The man’s face flashes on the clouds.

Crack!
Lightning. The switchblade catches the light.

Crack!
Lightning. Quick, Bob slices the boy’s throat.

“No!” I shut my eyes, shake my head. Maybe that will erase the image from my mind’s eye. I wonder. Are Bathroom Bob and Burger Bob the same Bob?

I press Play.

“—M
y throat. It happened so fast, I don’t know. He’d got stuck in the seatbelt. Or his arms weren’t long enough to hold on. Whatever, I sensed an opening. A moment. It meant I had to move.

“I jerked my head, and kicked. The knife dropped. I fell back. Tumbled out the car. Landed back on the ground.

“I reached down, touched myself and felt something warm. I held up my hand.

“Thunder, lightning, flash. Mother’s strobe light, the world went white. On the Blood. Red. Liquid.
Click,
off, back to black. I hoped the rain would wash it away. Bob’s car was gone. I sat, bare ass on the ground. I sat next to a Dumpster.

“I didn’t bother to pull up my jeans. I crawled to the Dump-ster and scootched underneath. I ignored the maggots and the smell. I knew it would be dry there.

“Hours—or days—later, I woke up. Anita had found me. She brought me back.”

I
remove the earbuds. Alice / Nadya’s story? I get the point. The “lesson.”
Me
listening to
her
story. It’s meant to help me reflect on my own. Substitute therapy. And that’s all fine but … whatever.

I try to stand. Wobble. While I was listening and reflecting on our pain, my left leg fell asleep.

A door slams.

Click.

Click.

Smoke. The smell poisons the air.

Click, click, click.

Whoever’s down there is walking around the roof. I’m being stalked. Like Ripley in that movie,
Alien
. The monster
knows
I’m here but isn’t 100 percent certain where. Except their victim’s close.

I’m trapped. Or, maybe not. The fire escape’s nearby. I could make a break for it and scramble down.

I stand. My legs go bezerk. Cosmic pinpricks. I can’t walk without making shuffling sounds.

Frantic, I search for a new hiding place. My only way
out
is
up
. I wiggle out my hiding place and climb up, onto the elevator roof. I lie on the tiny pitched roof, frozen with fear. I stare at the black sky. Drizzle flutters down like dark feathers.

Click, click, click.

Alien
is on the move. But I can’t see him. I roll over. Gravel tumbles off and goes
Ping!
I might as well be banging giant Chinese gongs, those pebbles sound
that
loud. Fuck! I’m a goner, for sure.

“Caw! Caw! Caw!”

Overhead, a flock of crows flies by. Wicked Witches, they circle the roof, beady, black eyes peering down at me.

“Caw! Caw! Caw!”

The dive down. Near my body. They plan to eat me. I probably look like a dead cat.

“Caw! Caw! Caw!”

I unfold my body. Stretch. Open my mouth, stick out my tongue and make scary faces. Maybe that will stop them from swooping down and pecking me to death.