Dorsai - Taxi

I vaguely knew the guy, and knew that he preferred to pick up younger girls that were new to town – particularly if they looked like they weren't in any hurry to get back to where they came from for some reason. I could see that this one fit the bill, since all she had for luggage was an over-stuffed knapsack and a faint look of desperation on her face. What looked like dishwater blonde hair framed a fairly attractive – if smudged – face. The clothes were a little loose and baggy, but there wasn't any reason to doubt she was female, either. She was a few inches shorter than he was, and I already knew that he was a couple inches shorter than me; that put her something a bit under five and a half feet tall.

The pimp, Charley, and the girl hopped into the back seat before I could get out – which I wouldn't have done, anyway, for him. Once the door was closed, he just gave me an intersection for a destination. I recognized it as more-or-less the center of his 'territory', and got us moving that direction.

Now, normally, me and the assorted denizens of the towns underworld, we had an understanding: as long as all that happened in my hack was me taking them from 'A' to 'B' with no conversation or activity, it was cool. But the minute, the second, anybody started 'working', all bets were off: at best, I'd stop and put them out; if provoked, I wasn't above pulling up next to a cop car, rolling down my window, and registering a complaint about whatever was going on in the back.

The latter had happened to Charley a few times; he was one of those folks that just has to push things, for whatever reason. Still, I was surprised when, rather than just sitting back and enjoying the ride, he started trying to hustle her with stories about how he tried to help girls that were new in town.

That lasted a couple of blocks before I finally told him "C'mon, Charley – you know the rules in this rig. No business in the back."

"Aw, Jim, I ain't doin' business with this young lady! I'm just esplainin' to her how I can help her have a care."

"I don't care what you call it, Charley, you're still trying to work her into your stable. Either you stop, or I do."

That was good for maybe another couple of blocks before he started in on her again.

I didn't bother saying anything else to him before I pulled over to the curb and stopped the meter – not coincidentally just a short distance from one of our city's "cop shops". I turned around and asked the girl "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Bullshit. Try again."

"Seventeen."

"Sorry, I'm not going for that one, either. Tell it straight."

"Sixteen – next month."

"That's about what I figured" I said, before turning to Charley and telling him "Charley, Charley, Charley. You know how it works in my rig. I even reminded you, and you still had to push it, didn't you? Well, it looks like I'm going to have to remind you – again! – that I don't fuck around. Out."

He started to fuss, and I interrupted him to say "Save it, Charley. Out – and don't forget the meter, or I might have to wander down the street there and swear out a complaint."

It hadn't escaped Charlie's attention where we were, and I could see the anger and annoyance on his face as he turned to the girl and said "C'mon, honey, we'll get us another ride…"

"No, I think the girl needs to stay, Charley. Unless you want to explain to the guys in uniform why a guy with your rep is in the company of an underage girl?"

The girl looked at me in wonder, and I explained "Charley here, he's a 'player' in town. Runs a string of girls – whores, not to put too fine a point on it. Keeps them in line with crack and beatings. He's also been busted for theft of varying degrees, assault, attempted murder, carrying a concealed weapon, and a few other things. The cops in town, they know him pretty good. Now, if you want to go with him, I'm not going to get in the way. But this is probably the only chance you're going to get to stop a nightmare before it happens. You decide."

She looked back and forth between us for several seconds before making her choice known by scooting away from him.

I could see how pissed Charley was, and he opened his mouth to say something. Before he could speak, though, I told him "Don't bother, Charley. Both of us know you aren't going to do anything; and if there's any trouble from someone else, all I've got to do is tell one of your competitors about why I think the trouble is coming from you. You know damn well that they'll take care of it, rather than have me push it to the cops. So just cough up the money, and be on your way before I start leaning on the horn."

He visibly quailed at the idea that I'd tell the other pimps that he'd caused me trouble: all of them knew that I got around enough to know what was going on in their various 'enterprises'. If I ever got it into my head to have a sit-down talk with the police, there wasn't a one of them that wouldn't suffer because of it. So if he gave me any crap, and I told one of his peers about it, they'd all be after him just to keep me from making trouble for them. And they weren't the kind of folks that would simply slap his wrist, either.

Charley just shut his mouth with a snap, and reached into his pocket to pull out his wad of cash. He peeled off a bill that would cover the fare, tossed it into the front seat, and left – slamming the door hard enough to rock my rig. Hurt my feelings something terrible, it did.

I looked at the girl again, and said "THAT is what he really would have been like, if you'd gone with him. Now, who are you, and what's the story?"

She spared a glance toward the departing Charley, then looked closely into my face before answering "Jill. Jill Nordberg. I… I left home."

"Okay, Jill, just exactly why did you leave home? And when?"

She tilted her head forward and looked at her lap as she told me "I left Tuesday before last. My folks got all upset with me when they found out that me and my boyfriend, Todd, had been… kissing, and touching. They said I was gonna go to Hell for sinning, and get a reputation as bein' easy, and all kinds of stuff like that. Daddy even called me a… a whore, and a harlot. I tried to tell them that I was still a virgin, but they didn't believe me – not after Momma saw me and Todd. We was… we was touching each other, kinda. She said we was perverted, and disgusting. Todd and me, we been boyfriend and girlfriend 'bout long as I can remember; but we're more than that, too – we're friends, if that makes sense. Ain't nothin' either one of us won't talk to the other about. So when I started trying to tell Daddy that we weren't like what him and Momma were sayin', that he was wrong, he hit me."

She lifted her head then, and I could see the anger in her eyes as she told me "I don't mean slapped, either – I mean hit, with his fist, like he'd hit another man! Momma kept him from hittin' me again, but it was close, let me tell you. Then they sent me off to bed after tellin' me they was gonna talk about what to do about me, and Todd. While they was doin' that, I got the stuff that was important to me, and some clothes, and put it all in this rucksack. Then after they went to bed, I went out the window and lit out. I ain't plannin' on ever goin' back, either!"

I sighed to myself, and wondered what it was about religions that made people turn so easily into fanatics. Even if they didn't go around killing others in the name of whatever their God was, they still managed to be a general pain in the ass and screw up (and over!) otherwise reasonable and normal people around them. Calling a young girl like this a 'harlot'? And a 'Sodomite'? Damning her to an eternal hell because she was feeling perfectly normal physical desires, and expressing a completely natural curiosity about sex?

I put those thoughts away in favor of asking her "How much money do you have?"