Little Stalker by Erica Pike Read Free Book Online Page B

you to your job. Where do you work,
    anyway?”
    “Here,” he says, twisting around with a defiant look in his blue, black-rimmed, eyes.
    “Where here?” I ask.
    “Here,” he repeats, pointing down at the pavement. “I’m never gonna get a client if
    you keep hanging around me like that.”
    I look around the dimly lit, dirty street. The only source of light is the half-moon, a
    few neon signs flashing behind windows and the occasional street lamp that hasn’t been
    sabotaged. Empty cardboard boxes lie stacked against the closed store next to us. Cars cruise

    at a very slow pace up and down the street, lazy rap music voluming up and down as they
    approach and pass us. Skimpy looking guys push themselves from the dirty brick walls, walk
    up to the cars that stop and lean toward the open windows. Some hop in.
    Wait a minute... My shy, innocent little stalker... No way! Just, no way!
    “You’re a prostitute?” I say in a hushed voice, leaning closer to Grayson.
    He smirks and folds his arms in front of him. “I prefer the term ‘rent-boy’.”
    “What the hell? Why? I mean... Why ?”
    “What else am I gonna do?” he says with a shrug. “Dad finally left my crazy mom,
    and there’s no more money. There aren’t many part-time jobs around here or at least none
    available.”
    I feel like my chest is crumbling in on itself. I just want to scoop him up and get him
    out of here. Although I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I had a good life
    growing up with loving parents; and the few times I got hit were when I got into fights at
    school.
    “Your dad,” I say, trying to ignore a leering gaze from a tall guy on the other side of
    the street. “Couldn’t you go live with him? Is he any better than your mom?”
    Grayson touches his fingers under his bangs to his left eye.
    “Not really,” he says in a low voice before heaving a sigh. “Now, please leave.
    You’re scaring all the guys away.”
    Fingers in tight pockets, he walks away from me and turns to talk to an older looking
    man through an open window of a shiny black BMW.
    Grayson has been trying to explain, but it hits me then like a bag of bricks. He’s stuck
    in a bad situation with no way out. He has to sell his body to get money. He’s endangering
    his life every time he gets into a car with a stranger.
    Just then, Grayson straightens up and grabs the handle of the car. I sprint over and
    pull him back with me up onto the pavement.
    “What the hell, dude?” he shouts and yanks himself free.
    “Don’t do this,” I say in a pleading voice.
    “I have to,” he says, looking over his shoulder at his waiting customer.
    “But why – I mean, there has to be another way. Why this?”
    “Because I’m hungry!” he shouts, face scrunching up, hands fisted. “I haven’t eaten in
    two days.”
    As if needing proof, his stomach growls. Grayson averts his eyes.

    I don’t even know what to do. I stand speechless until he quietly turns around toward
    the car.
    It’s not just the wish of saving him from this kind of life that has me grasping at
    straws, but my own selfish need. I truly don’t want to share him with others. The thought of
    that guy in the car putting his clammy hands on Grayson’s body sickens me. I don’t care if
    he’s been prostituting. I just want him to be with me .
    “I’ll feed you,” I blurt as soon as he takes a step toward the car.
    He stops in his tracks and swirls around so fast that his bangs fly away from his face,
    revealing a new bruise on his temple. Who did that? His mom? Dad? A client?
    I swallow hard.
    “Why the fuck would you do that?”
    “Because you can’t sell yourself,” I say.
    “Yes I can,” he says between bared teeth. “Go back, and leave me the hell alone.”
    When he turns to leave, I close the short distance between us and grab his wrist.
    “Dude!” he yelps.
    The guy in the car shakes his head and drives off to the next boy offering his services.
    “What the fuck,