“Did you all hear about the lady across the street turning tricks from her front door?” Manny sits down on the floor in front of the bed. There’s no furniture anywhere in the house which makes sleeping and eating really uncomfortable. I think it’s prompted us to be more active people though. “No what about her? The one with her front door constantly wide open and her kids running around all the time?” Our rich socialite friend Aissa, Manny and Viv’s sister is letting us squat in her old house on Mainstrasse until the lease is up. She moved into a big ass house and we get her empty dirty one. As long as there’s air conditioning and hot water no one can complain.
“She’s a prostitute. Like, she’s legit. And she’s on house arrest. She has an ankle monitor and everything and she’s been turning tricks form her front door because she can’t leave.” That’s the most interesting thing I’ve heard in a while. I love neighborhood drama. Bond St. was just a bunch of moronic teenage gangsters and old people but West 6th has brought a whole new level of intrigue.
There’s never anywhere to park on the street after rush hours. When everyone gets home from work they always park on the same side of the street, the side street cleaning won’t be going on the next morning.
“Just park at Hudepohl.” Where the fuck else has a Hudepohl. There was one close on Bond St. but I never noticed it, and here its like the center of all social ongoings. And the lady that owns it is obviously on meth. There’s tons of legalization posters everywhere in the place and its always dim lit. The police are always there but nothing ever seems to happen. Maybe its like my one Abercrombie Kids manager told me. When she lived in Harlem they would call the police to report coke dealers in their apartments and before they knew it the police were dealing coke with them. Maybe the police sell the Hudepohl lady her meth.
“Sounds good to me. Wait, what the fuck?”
Travis turned to me and made that noise he does when something’s either really gross or really scandalous. It’s kind of like “whhhaaeeeeooooooaaa?”
“Yeah my car’s not fitting in that spot. This thing’s a mother fucking tank.”
“Tory, did you see those people in that car?”
“No, whats the big deal?”
“That’s the hooker and that creepy guy that’s been walking around here by her house all night. The prostitute’s running her business out of cars in Hudepohls parking lot. The same semi truck has been parking here between 3 and 4 in the morning all week.” I totally want to be the hookers friend. I’ve never made friends with a prostitute before and I feel like she has a lot to say. I feel like I’d like to hear her story. I wonder why she’s prostituting. And what the ankle monitor is for, was she caught and is just continuing to pursue her business? Is her house arrest in accordance to a prostitution offense or something totally different?
“Travis made friends with the hooker.” Stupid fuck. I’m so jealous. The queer was beaming he was so pleased with himself. Travis made friendly street conversation this morning and listened to her explain to someone that she was doing it to put herself through school. How much more interesting can you get? An educated lady of the night? Really? Hit me again God. Lets go!
“What? What’s the big deal? I was friends with a hooker once. She was a nice girl. I might look her up.” Even Vivian supports it. I’m so ridiculously jealous. Now whenever Travis sees her on the street she waves to him and says hi. I’m convinced she just sees him as a potential client. I wouldn’t get too close. I mean she does accept money in exchange for sex. Which, I’m not gonna lie to you has sounded more and more appealing and legit the more I slip into poverty. But sex just grosses me out too much.
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