Pain Lived, Love Found 2 (2 page)

In addition to Carly, our parents had two more children, my brothers Johnny Jr. and Michael. Two years after Michael was born Sloane came along and about five years later the baby of the family, Evan was born. Sloane was doted on and spoiled rotten from day one. She instantly became our father’s favorite. She was an adorable, happy, and friendly baby and grew up to become a beautiful young lady. Even as a tomboy who dressed in jeans and ratty T-shirts all the time, Sloane was pretty. She had no clue of just how pretty she was. I knew she looked up to me and tried to be like me, and honestly Sloane was a sweet baby sister, but I was jealous of her. I was jealous of the attention she received from everyone she came in contact with. I was jealous of the special treatment she received from our parents - our father in particular, because she was his favorite. But mostly, I was jealous of her innocence. Sloane was a good girl. She was a homebody who didn’t care about going out to parties or sneaking around to do things. She didn’t care about boys until she got into high school, and even then she was the perfect daughter who never gave our parents any trouble. She was shielded and protected from many things, and I wished I had been shielded and protected, too.

My reasons for being jealous and resentful of my baby sister are my own issues, my own hang-ups, but it didn’t stop me from treating her unfairly either. Carly tried many times to help Sloane and I get along, but I didn’t want any part of it. Sloane is everything I wished I was. I wished I wasn’t the oldest. I wished I had an older sibling to look up to and learn from. I wished that I didn’t depend on my looks to validate my self-worth. I wished I hadn’t been raped. I wished I didn’t hate myself so much because I was raped...

My twisted way of getting back at my baby sister for all of my shortcomings was to prove to her and myself that I was the prettiest, that I had all the street smarts, and that in any given situation I could get what I wanted. This included propositioning her boyfriends and male friends. Nothing and no one was off limits in my world. There were two of Sloane’s boyfriends who took me up on my offer, and they broke up with Sloane shortly afterwards. The rest turned me down, but it didn’t stop me from trying. I had fun chasing her last serious boyfriend, Christian. He was clean cut, successful, and made very good money. He traveled a lot, but when he was in town he was always with Sloane. One day I decided to follow him. I wore a very short black skirt that showed off my shapely thighs and big booty and left little to the imagination. I also wore a tight white top that dipped low in the front so that my big breasts stood at attention in his face, and five- inch stiletto heels. I wore no panty hose and no underwear. When I caught him alone I pounced on him like a hungry lioness hunting for food.

Can you tell I was determined? I had gotten out of my late model BMW that a former boyfriend bought for me, and walked up to his apartment building and rang his doorbell. When he opened the door I saw surprise and a twinkle of lust in his eyes.

“Sarah...what are you doing here?” he asked in surprise. I watched as he struggled to keep his eyes on my face instead of my breasts. I smiled seductively and said, “My cell phone died, and I was in the neighborhood and wondered if I could use your phone quickly? I’m on my way to an appointment and I’m running late. It’ll only take a second.”

I saw the hesitation in his eyes, but he stood back and allowed me in anyway. I strutted inside, making sure I put an extra dip in my hips before I stopped and waited for him to lead the way to his apartment. He walked quickly in front of me, but I continued my slow, seductive pace before I finally entered his spacious apartment. When I walked inside, he had his house phone in his hand and handed it to me. “Here you go. I’ll give you some privacy,” Christian said, before he quickly walked to the back of his apartment and around a corner.

I dialed a fake number and began to speak loudly, pretending like I was informing someone that I was running late. After a few moments I hung up the phone and began to walk around his apartment, looking at the various pictures on his shelves and tables. Most of them were photos of him and Sloane, and it pissed me off to see them cuddled up and smiling happily.  Christian walked towards me with his hands in his pockets. He seemed anxious. I knew he wanted me gone, but he wasn’t going to get rid of me so quickly.

“Were you able to take care of what you needed?” he asked nervously.

“Yes, thank you for being so kind, Christian. I really appreciate it. I hope Sloane appreciates you too,” I said, as I walked towards him and played with a button on his shirt. “Men like you are hard to find these days. Smart, successful, handsome. I see all of the wonderful qualities you possess, Christian, and I appreciate you for the amazing, hard -working man that you are,” I purred softly, as I locked my eyes with his. I know men, and Christian wasn’t as unaffected by me as he tried to appear. I saw the increase of his pulse in his neck, and I saw that his chest began to rise and fall at a faster pace as his breathing increased as well. I know when men are turned on, and Christian was slowly heating up.

“I appreciate your compliments. Yes, Sloane appreciates me.” Christian finally responded as he firmly removed my hands from his chest.

“But how does she show you? By giving you cards? Candy? Corny gifts? I know she’s not satisfying you the way you need to be in bed because...well, my baby sister is a prude, and frankly very inexperienced.”

“Sarah, that’s your sister. You shouldn’t talk about her that way, and what we do or don’t do in the bedroom is none of your business,” Christian replied, defensively.

“Uh-oh, I hit a nerve didn’t I, Christian? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to point out how sexually frustrated you are.”

I purposely dropped a piece of paper I was holding in my hand and then turned around to pick it up. “Oh, look at me littering up your beautiful apartment. I’m so sorry, let me pick that up.”

I slowly bent over at my waist, giving him an ample view of my bare ass and more. When I straightened up and turned back to face him, Christian’s mouth was hanging open. I simply smiled. I had him, and now it was time for me to go in for the kill.

“You’ve seen what I’m offering. Has Sloane shown you what she’s offering, or is she still playing hard to get?” I asked, as I pressed my breasts into his chest.

Christian blinked quickly a few times, as if he was coming out of a trance and yelled, “Sarah, you need to go. Now!”

He took me by my arm and ushered me to his front door.

No, damn it! I had him! What did I do wrong? What changed? How could Sloane have such a hold on him when I know for a fact she hasn’t given up the goods to him? Men don’t stick around if a woman isn’t putting out! Trust me, I know.

“What’s the rush? We could have some fun, Christian, and no one would be the wiser. Just think about it, you could have the best of both worlds: a relationship with Sloane, and get topped off by me whenever you need it. Isn’t that every man’s dream?” Christian looked at me for a moment and didn’t say a word. It appeared that he was actually thinking about it!

“Sarah, you should be ashamed of yourself for even suggesting something so despicable.”

Christian looked away as he spoke. Have there been others that he’s been tempted by besides me?  The more I observed him, the more I sensed his shame because he knew he wanted what I was offering.

“You and I both know you don’t mean that,” I replied with a disbelieving eyebrow raised.

“Please leave, Sarah.” This time he looked me in the eyes, and now there is anger there. Anger because the truth hung heavy in the air between us. “You don’t even want a blow job?” I asked, in a last ditch effort. What did I have to lose by using the direct approach at this point?

“No, Sarah. Please go, and never come back here again.”

He opened the door for me and waited for me to walk through it.

Smiling confidently, I stopped outside the doorway and turned around to look at him. “One day you’re gonna look back on this and kick yourself HARD for not taking me up on my offer. C’est la vie. Thanks for letting me use your phone, Christian, and good luck with your dry dick and blue balls.”

I turned around and strutted my way down the hallway and out of Christian’s apartment building. I was pissed that I couldn’t get him to bite, but knowing that he thought about it was good enough for me. A few months after propositioning him, Christian and Sloane broke up. I know for a fact that Sloane’s stinginess with the sex had a lot to do with it. I had put something on Christian’s mind, and he knew I was right.

Go ahead and say it: I’m a rotten person and a horrible sister. Tell me something I don’t already know. Tell me something I haven’t been told a million times by my parents, jealous girlfriends, wives, and other people who think they know me. I’ve been with, and around men from various backgrounds, and at the end of the day they are all the same. Nothing about any of them stood out to me other than how much money they had in their bank accounts or pockets, and how much of it they were willing to give to me. They used me and I used them. There was never any love lost for any of them. Love was the furthest thing from my mind. Love is for suckers, not for people like me who live in the real world.

Sloane, on the other hand, was the type of woman that men fell in love with over and over, but she always pushed them away. She stayed in a relationship with Christian the longest, and I believe in her own way she loved him, but for whatever reason she could never take that next step in the relationship. I also believe that Christian loved her as well, but grew tired of waiting and was too afraid to tell her. I’d like to think that I was instrumental in helping them see that they weren’t right for each other.

I know the next thing I say will sound like a total contradiction based on how I’ve treated Sloane, but regardless of the mean, underhanded, and hateful things I’ve done to my baby sister, I am very proud of her and her accomplishments. She worked her butt off and put herself through college, and then worked even harder to become a successful career woman at PriceWaterHouse. Amongst all the dysfunction that the Paris family is known for, she is our success story. I happily brag about Sloane’s accomplishments to anyone who will listen. My relationship with Sloane is the true definition of love-hate, but at the end of the day, I love her more than anyone will ever know. She’s my sweet baby sister and always will be.

After graduating high school, I immediately moved out of my parents’ house and moved in with some girls that I knew. We split the rent and bills down the middle, but my minimum-wage jobs weren’t cutting it, and I got tired of struggling to make ends meet. During this time, I did one semester at the community college studying business administration before I became completely bored with it and decided that wasn’t the career path for me.

Sandy Miller was one of the few friends I had in high school that I actually stayed in contact with over the years, and she was the one who introduced me to the world of high-class escorting. I reached out to Sandy when all other options failed. After Sandy explained to me all the services that her private escorting business provided, she informed me that she had a client who needed someone to accompany him to a fancy awards party for his law firm. He wanted someone young and pretty to impress his colleagues. He was willing to pay one thousand dollars up front and another fifteen hundred at the end of the night if he had a good time.  There was no way I was going to pass up making that kind of money when I had rent and bills due. Thus escorting was my introduction into a whole new world that I knew nothing about, a world that I made sure my family never found out about. They already thought the worst of me, some even believing that I was a prostitute, sold drugs, or both, because I suddenly always had money and wore nice things. I let them believe what they wanted to believe, but I knew the truth. I never slept with these men; these were dates for companionship only. Sandy always made that clear to her clients and potential clients before they signed a contract for any of her girls’ services.

Escorting also introduced me to a class of people that I never imagined I’d be around in a social setting. It’s how I met CEOs, politicians, and even drug dealers. Once I agreed to go out with Sandy’s client, he made arrangements to buy me an elegant party dress. He even paid for my hair and makeup to be professionally done at an upscale salon. He wanted me to look amazing, and I wanted the same. His name was Richard Wheeler, and he was a handsome, older white gentleman who didn’t care that I was black.  He wanted to cause a stir walking into his firm’s party with me on his arm because his soon-to be-ex-wife was going to be there with her new boy toy, who was also a young, big shot attorney. My job was to make her jealous and to have his colleagues green with envy. I did exactly that and more. I actually had a wonderful time that night. For the first time in my life a man treated me like a lady. Richard was very kind to me, and even though we enjoyed ourselves making his wife jealous, we truly enjoyed each other’s company. We danced, laughed, and we got to know each other in between it all. Surprisingly, none of the behavior was forced.  Richard made me feel so at ease that I felt like I could be myself - and that didn’t happen often.

At the end of the night he gave me five thousand dollars in cash, way more than what I was originally expecting, and he informed me that he wanted to keep seeing me. I could tell by looking in Richard’s eyes that he fell in love easily, and if I wasn’t careful, I would fall in love with him too. I was young and still trying to figure out what to do with my life, but falling in love wasn’t in the cards for me. We saw each other two more times and then after our last date I stopped returning his phone calls. Richard was sweet, and he never forced himself on me or asked for sex, but I knew he wanted a real relationship.  He was a sweet, middle-aged man who was heartbroken and lonely, but I couldn’t give him my heart.

I wish I could say that all the men I met through escorting were kind like Richard, but they weren’t. The more money and power they had, the meaner they were. There were a few who thought they could manhandle me and knock me around, and I made sure that they instantly regretted doing so. I would whip out my switchblade on them, and if they were still stupid enough to try me, I’d slice their asses up.

The other drawback from being around men with power and money was that many of them over indulged in alcohol and drugs. I never drank and never did drugs until I met these men, and that’s how my drug and drinking habit began. I hid this from my family as much as possible, but Junior and Michael knew. They were the ones I called when I was too messed up to get home on my own, or when I found myself in some random guy’s house half naked and hung over. My brothers kept my secret, but lectured me all the time about being careful because how I was living was reckless and dangerous. I knew they were right, but the drugs and alcohol masked the pain I felt on a daily basis.

When I was drunk or high, I could forget about my problems and feel numb from head to toe. Nothing bothered me, and no one could make me feel sad or ashamed as long as I was under the influence. Ever since I was raped, I never had a good night’s rest. I had constant nightmares and flashbacks that resulted in me waking up in cold sweats. Every time I closed my eyes, I would see my rapist’s ugly, disgusting face. I could still feel his hot, rancid breath on the back of my neck and smell the aroma of his aftershave. ‘Til this day, I can’t stand the smell of Old Spice aftershave or anything that smells like it. I refuse to even say his name anymore because I felt it gave him power over me. I hate that all of those vivid memories of being raped have stuck with me, as if it happened just yesterday. Why couldn’t I be one of those who was so traumatized that they blocked the memory completely from their mind? Why couldn’t I live in ignorant bliss as though it had never happened? Instead, I was reminded of the horrific, violent way that I was sexually assaulted every time I close my eyes.

My drug habit introduced me to the streets and the unsavory people who resided in them, like Carter Williams. Carter was a drug dealer who had been in the game for many years. Originally from New York, he commuted back and forth between New York and Detroit before he finally made Detroit his permanent home.  He was a few years older than me and was quite handsome in a thuggish way. Carter always had money, drove nice cars, and always dressed nice. He could also be quite charming when he wanted to be. We got together just when my drug use turned from casual to full-blown addict. He liked to show me off to his business associates and friends when I was sober. He felt having someone like me, someone he deemed beautiful, would increase his status and get him the respect he so desperately sought. Carter was always talking about moving up to the next level in the drug game, and he had grandiose dreams of being one of the biggest drug kingpins around. I thought he was delusional and completely out of his mind, but I couldn’t knock his determination.

After attending boring parties that were often held at sleazy strip clubs or hole-in-the-wall bars, we’d go back home and I’d sniff all the cocaine I could get my hands on. Carter never used drugs, he’d just watch me and make sure I didn’t overdose. Even though he was a well-known drug dealer with many connections, Carter was afraid of my brother Michael. Michael had gang connections and pull on the streets. However, his fear of Michael didn’t stop him from knocking me around when he was angry about something, and most of the time I was too high to fight back. Hell, I’d be so doped up that I wouldn’t even feel his blows. With my light-skinned complexion, I bruised easily, and sometimes even the best cover-up makeup couldn’t hide the bruises left from Carter’s beat down.

One day Michael came by our apartment to check on me because I had been off the grid for some months and he wanted to make sure that I was still alive. Carter had knocked me around the night before and the right side of my face was swollen black and blue. When I answered the door, the rage in Michael’s eyes was instant.

“What the fuck? Where is he, Sarah? I’m gonna KILL him!” Michael yelled, as he moved me to the side and entered the apartment, stalking from room to room, looking for Carter.

“He’s not here Mikey, and I’m fine. It’s no big deal.”

I was so out of it that I was surprised that I managed to form a single coherent sentence. Michael, on the other hand, was on the rampage.

“I know where to find his ass,” he said before he stormed to the door to leave. Before he walked out, he turned around to look at me. “You’ve gotta get yourself together, Sarah. My biggest fear is coming to check up on you and finding you dead. Do you know how much that would mess me up? Do you know what that would do to our family? We love you. I wish you could see that. But this right here - this ain’t cool. You’re better than this, and the sooner you realize that the better. I love you, Big Sis. But if you don’t change, your brothers are going to be carrying your casket on our shoulders real soon.” Michael stooped down and gave me a kiss on my cheek and left. I stood in the same spot at my front door, dumbfounded and crushed. My baby brother sobered me up with those few powerful words. I managed to walk to my living room before I crumbled to my knees and cried my eyes out. Once I got over my pity party, I showered, packed my clothes, and left Carter’s apartment and never returned.

I had started a savings account after my very first escorting job and I’d been putting money inside of the account ever since. In the beginning, I only used the money for clothes and other small necessities, but once I began to drink and do drugs, I blew half of my savings on keeping up with my habits. What little I had left, I used to get my own apartment on the other side of town so I could try to rebuild my life. It wasn’t easy, and I had many setbacks. I could never keep a job because I was always snapping at my bosses or coworkers. I was getting evicted left and right, and before I knew it, I was back to using drugs again. I felt like such a failure, and when you’re alone, it’s easy to throw yourself pity parties that last for days, weeks, and even months.

I later found out that Michael tracked Carter down and beat the hell out of him and promised him that if he ever laid another hand on me that he’d kill him. My brother never made idle threats, and Carter knew that Michael would follow through. When I fell back into my drug habit, I made sure I stayed clear of Carter and his sellers. I never wanted to see him again, and that included no longer buying from his people. I was with Carter long enough to know who his workers were.

Now I was homeless with nothing but a car, some bags of clothes, and a few pairs of shoes to my name. I was desperate and out of options. Moving to Atlanta where Carly and her family resided wasn’t an option. As much as I missed my sister, I would never bring my issues down there to her. Carly was battling her own demons and trying to live a normal life with her family, and she deserved the happiness and peace she has found. Sloane and I weren’t in a good place in our relationship, and she despised me anyway. I could never go to her for help, nor would I want to see her look at me in her judgmental way.  Junior had his own family to worry about and Michael - well, we’re a lot alike, but he also has a bad temper and I didn’t want to be the cause of him going back to jail because of always trying to protect me from myself or from the likes of Carter. Evan was locked up in jail, so this left me no other option than to go crawling back to my parents, my father in particular. I knew my mother would never be on board with me living under the same roof as her again, but my father could talk her into it, and he did. Before I moved in, my mother laid down ground rules with me as though I were a child. I tried not to roll my eyes, but I was so over it. If she would just shut up so I could go smoke some weed to calm my nerves…

“Sarah, did you hear me? I said I want you out and looking for a job. And I better not catch you drinking or doing drugs in my house either,” my mother snapped.

She gave me a pointed stare as she waited for me to deny that I had either of those vices. I didn’t dare deny anything she said as I knew it would only lead to a nasty, heated argument. Instead I said, “I hear you loud and clear, Ma. No drinking and no drugs in your house. Got it.” I know she sensed the underlying sarcasm in my voice as she rolled her eyes at me. I moved my few belongings to one of the empty bedrooms upstairs and tried to wrap my head around hitting the pavement to find work. The only work I knew was escorting and it paid very well.

My mother worked during the day and my father was forced to retire early due to an on-the-job injury that left him disabled. He could still walk and do other things, but because his job was mostly in warehouses and factories, and he was no longer able to perform those duties anymore. During the day, my father and I were always home alone. What my mother didn’t know was that her husband never stopped drinking or doing drugs. He hid it from her for years. My father and I bonded over our shared drug and drinking habits and would sit in the garage and get high for hours on end. One day we were joking around which led to us wrestling. I ran to the house and my father chased me. I ran into his bedroom and he tackled me onto his bed. We were high as kites. We had smoked all kinds of stuff, including some crack. My father became too frisky, and even though I was high I knew when the playing turned into something else. I kicked him off of me and ran to the kitchen. “What the fuck are you trying to do you sick son of a bitch!”

“What, I was just playing with you. I used to play with Carly like that.” My father said with a disgusting smirk on his face.

“What you did to Carly was rape you disgusting bastard! I may be high but I’m not that high! What you did to Carly will never happen with me, do you understand me?”

“I thought you’d be different. You’re just a tease I see. Just like Carly was,” he sneered in return.

I couldn’t believe my ears. How dare he speak of Carly that way! He ruined her life and she almost didn’t recover, and he had the nerve to call her a tease when he raped his own child? I whipped out my switchblade and placed the cold blade against his throat.