Bailey's Choice

People call me JD, but I was christened twenty five years back as Joseph Dilworth. I'm the first to admit that I'm not a nice person, or a good one come to that. Why would that be, you might ask? To answer that, I'll have to tell you a little bit about myself.

I left school the first day I was legally allowed to, for the classroom could teach me nothing that would benefit my future. I left home when I was sixteen; my stepfather's last beating with a leather belt was too much to take. As for my mother, she just sat and watched him do it. I think I saw tears in her eyes that day, but maybe I was just seeing things. Since that day, I've been an opportunist living off the streets, selling drugs and stealing cars, and committing burglary mostly. I've grown into a large man, tall and well built, fit and confident enough to stand my ground and fear no one. Most times I'm good natured, I like to be with people and enjoy their laughter and kinship, but I have a dark side too. Intimidation is a fine tool, but I will only resort to violence as a last resort. But when I do, someone usually suffers and it's not often me. My reputation is all important to me and I'm known on the streets a good person to be friends with, but not a good enemy to have.

While I sell drugs, I don't use them, for countless times I've seen the damage they do. My good health is the one good thing going for me, I don't smoke and I only drink sparingly. My main vice is sex, for I love women with a vengeance. There's nothing better in life than taking a woman to your bed for the first time, exploring her body and taking in the look on her face as you provide that ultimate pleasure. The downside is that most women don't hold my interest for long, and usually after a week or so they are discarded. Often they are offered to my associates, so long as the lady is agreeable. For providing their bodies, the ladies in question get to live in rent free and eat at no cost, which I guess is a fair arrangement.

My associates and I live in the office block of an old large satellite furniture warehouse; we get free rent for providing security and generally looking after the place. It used to get broken into and robbed on a regular basis, but all that's stopped since we moved in. The irony of the whole thing is that we were the ones that used to commit most of the burglaries. We however command enough street respect that the warehouse is a no go area for other would be opportunists. Rather a sweet little arrangement, don't you think?

There are about twenty of us that live in the warehouse, with the casual splattering of females that enjoy our type of company. We don't consider ourselves a gang as such; we don't wear gang patches or any other clothing that would associate us to each other. We're just a bunch of guys with the same primal instincts who cohabit in the same building. We all contribute equally to pay all the bills like power and food. Sure, we have a few rules, like no fighting or stealing amongst ourselves, and that none of us do anything that attracts the unwanted attention of any authorities. The use of hard drugs is strictly prohibited, and always results in the culprit's eviction, but holding for selling's okay.

Somehow I ended up as the unofficial mayor of the place, maybe because most people respect me and I'm sensible enough to be hard but fair. But probably it's more do with the fact that it was me that got us into the place, and I do all of the negotiations with the people that own the warehouse. For my executive duties, I have two large upstairs adjoining offices I call home, one I use as a bedroom, the other a lounge with all the electronic gizmos you can think of, all stolen of course. Other amenities such as cooking and washing are communal, not ideal but at least it's free. To make my life a little more comfortable, I have my own fridge and microwave oven. It's basic living, but it's warm and comfortable, and probably better than anything I could ever aspire to on my own.

It was a miserable rainy night when it all started. I like to run at night, mostly for fitness but also it's a time when I think best. It's my planning time, for I know that I control my own destiny. Nothing comes easy in this life, if you want something, then you've gotta make it happen yourself. I usually run for the best part of an hour, my route changes from night to night. I don't have many enemies, but I have no intention of making myself an easy target either.

I was running through a dark rundown side of town when the rain became too heavy to run through. The last thing I needed was to bust a leg tripping over a misplaced rubbish bin or an unseen kerb, for my health insurance is none existent. I decided to cut my run short and began taking a short cut through the back streets. I pulled the plastic hood of my jacket over my head as the rain pelted me, and eventually took shelter in a shop doorway. The sound of scurrying feet caught my attention, and I managed a few inquisitive steps back into the rain and peered into the alley beside the shop. It took a few seconds to ascertain that I was witnessing something illegal. Two dark figures were unloading boxes from a nondescript dark van and carrying them through a door at the far end of the alley. I could see clearly enough that the boxes were some kind of appliances, like DVD's or Playstations or such like. The van was nearly full of boxes, and I knew for sure that they were stolen, for no one does legitimate business in this area at night.

For some time I watched the frantic running backwards and forwards as the load in the van dwindled to nothing. It was when the front door of the van opened that I caught a glimpse of one of the men in the dim interior light. It was only when his ugly face turned towards me that I recognised Miller, or street name Millsey. It was simply the wide trademark moustache and long goatee that gave him away. I stepped back into the darkness of the shop front as the empty van discreetly exited the alley into the street, the soft purr of the V8 engine completely veiled by the pelting rain.

I considered the implications of Millsey's little heist as I continued my way home. It seemed the type of warehouse job that we would pull off, and therefore likely that the cops would throw my name into the hat when came down to suspects. The thought that it might bring a little unwanted attention our way crossed my cynical mind. I called a little gathering of the troops when I got home, the main thing was to get rid of anything illegal that might be found during a police search, this included drugs, weapons or any traceable stolen gear.

The next morning, we were indeed visited by New York's finest armed with a search warrant. My favourite Detective Hennessy smugly presented me with the warrant; then asked me to step back and let his men start their search. Now Detective Hennessy and I go back a long way, and he freely admits that one of his missions in life is to incarcerate me for a very long time. I on the other hand have no intention of spending one day behind bars and would prefer to go down fighting than do so. And because of this, I have no doubt that my life will not be a long one, but while I'm on this earth I plan to have a good time. The funny thing about all this; is that the good detective and I get on pretty good together. We both share a black sarcastic sense of humour, and in other circumstances might have been reasonable friends.

Detective Hennessy and his merry men had every intention of making a fine mess of our establishment, but I thwarted him by filming his men with video cameras. It was for insurance purposes I told him, for we were responsible to the building owners for any damage. The camera's rolled as the cops poked, prodded and searched the building, but nothing or real interest was found. On the way out, I advised the detective that we weren't responsible for the robbery. His eyes searched mine for any tell tale signs of a lie, but I held his stare. I think he believed me, but I guess I'll never know for sure. Hennessy had the last word insinuating that I was losing my touch allowing jobs happen in my patch. It was a good point, and one I was about to follow up on.

The next day I went looking for Millsey, he was at his usual haunt, a local smoky pool hall full of the usual low life. I didn't notice him at first, for he was partly hidden behind some broad leaning over a snooker table in the pretence of teaching her how to play. I gave the broad a quick but appreciative once over; then asked Millsey to step outside for a friendly chat. Millsey was surprised but had no reason to refuse my request. We knew each other, but weren't exactly friends if you get my drift. He was little unreliable and unpredictable for my liking, and he had a big mouth to boot. But he'd never done me any real harm, well that is until now. It was cold outside, and he wrapped his arms around himself and patted his back to ward off the biting wind.

"What's up JD?"

"Had the cops around my place yesterday looking for some stolen gear, DVD players or Hi Fi gear or something." I commented while looking down into his smug face.

"So, what's it got to do with me?"

"Everything, since you're the fucker who stole them."

"Nah, not me man, you got the wrong guy."

I grinned, "So if I go to that little place down the end of alley in Vincent Street, I'm not gonna find anything of interest?"

Millsey's demeanour changed instantly, for now he knew that I knew.

"Ah, c'mon man, it's not much, just a few laptops and other shit."

The laptop thing caught me, for they were an easy commodity to move with plenty of demand on the street. This was getting more interesting by the second.

"Fuck you Millsey; that van was full of that shit, stop fucking with me." I said menacingly. "You brought the fucking cops down on me; I had to ditch some good stuff before they got into my joint. So therefore you owe me. I reckon the insurance company will have some sort of reward going. Maybe I should give the cops a tip off; then claim the reward."

"Nah JD, you don't have to do that." Millsey pleaded. "Hell man, I'm sorry if I caused you any grief. I know this is your patch, but the job was too hard to down."

"What was the job?" I asked.

"Truckload of stuff parked inside a warehouse, we broke in took the truck, and then offloaded it somewhere more quiet. Bit of a fuck up really, there was more stuff in the truck than we thought and we had to make two trips in the van to empty it."

"Okay Millsey, I get the picture. What are we gonna do to make my little problem disappear? It's gotta be worth something to me."

Millsey stomped his feet up and down on the concrete footpath while he considered his options, the fact that he wouldn't want to get on my bad side was certainly in my favour.

"How about five percent?" he suggested.

I would have been happy with that, but the fact he offered it straight away convinced me that ten percent might be more appropriate.

"Hey go easy JD, I got costs here." Millsey pleaded. "The info on the truck's gonna cost me, plus my fence is playing hardball. I need something out of it."

A fair call, but then another thought crossed my mind.

"The broad with you in there, how tight are you and her?"

His face clouded while he considered the question, "You talking about Bailey? Nah, we're just casual like. "

"Well, I wouldn't mind taking her for a ride. Tell you what. I'll take your five percent, plus the little lady for a night or two. She any good in the sack?"

"She's okay, but I dunno whether she'll go for it or not."

I shrugged my shoulder, "Hey see what you can do; it'll save you five percent. Give me your cell phone."

Millsey handed it over and I punched in my own number.

"Text me with an answer. Yes for five percent and Bailey, or no for the full ten percent. I'll give you forty eight hours. Got it?"

He reluctantly shook my offered hand to seal the gentlemen's agreement, and we then went our separate ways. As I drove away, my head played out the dollars involved. The van was stacked boxes for two trips. Say two hundred brand new laptops with a street value of five hundred bucks each, five percent of a hundred grand is five. Not a bad morning's work for no risk and without having to lift my finger. It would be real interesting to see how much Millsey handed over as my cut, a dangerous game if he had the fortitude to try and pull a fast one on me. There weren't too many local fences who'd take on a couple of hundred laptops, and I doubt I'd have too much trouble finding out how much Millsey made out of the deal.

Content with the knowledge that money was coming my way, I then turned my attention to sex. The big question was whether this Bailey broad would play ball, it had been a long week since I got laid, and my hopes were kind of high.

Bailey McCormick was two weeks shy of her twenty second birthday when she ran away from home. Hers had been a tranquil upbringing until her father got killed on a farm tractor when it rolled over on him. Bailey and her mum eventually moved back to Boston to be with family. Life was okay until her mum started to date again, having strange men in the house and in her mum's bed didn't go down well with Bailey. But while she didn't like it, she could put up with it. After a year or two, her mum settled down into a permanent relationship with a man who eventually moved in with them. At first it was kind of okay, but then the new lover wanted to climb into Bailey's bed too. When Bailey caused a scene, her mother suggested she was imagining things; her new lover would never do such a thing. But when her mum was out, he would continue to stalk her. It all came to a head one evening when he tried to climb into the bath with her. He thwarted the locked bathroom door after secretly cutting another key. It was only luck that Bailey managed to scramble from his clutches, and a short time later she packed a bag and left home with the intention of never returning.

Bailey had only been in New York a couple of days when she met Millsey while purchasing a little marijuana. One thing led to another, and she accepted his offer of accommodation for a few days while she got herself sorted out. Bailey was fully aware that Millsey's offer was made on the pretext of sexual favours. But with little money and other prospects, her options were limited. Millsey wasn't the best looking guy she'd been with, but the sex wasn't all that bad. The fact that he didn't want it more than once every couple of days made it okay. He wasn't a great lover, but he certainly wasn't the worst either. Millsey treated her okay, but his place was dirty and untidy, and unsightly as it might seem, she had no intention of cleaning the place up. Changing the filthy bed sheets was about far as she would go. The day that she'd decided to move on from Millsey's was the day that JD confronted Millsey in the pool hall. What she didn't realise was how this little interaction would change things for her.

At first Bailey was angry at both Millsey and JD, for she didn't like the idea of being traded as a commodity. Bailey initially refused on principle, but when Millsey offered a grand cash as a sweetener, she accepted it knowing that she would never be gracing his place again. But the fact was that she was a little attracted to JD, even though he had only graced her presence in the pool hall for a few seconds. She liked big strong men, and she'd liked what she had seen. That JD was tall and wide shouldered plus good looking in a rugged sort of way, made it all a little more tempting. Bailey began to think of it as kind of a date with a guarantee of sex, and not unlike some of previous social occasions. No matter what happened between her and JD, it was most certainly over with her and Millsey. After pocketing the grand, Bailey packed her small bag ignoring Millsey's lewd suggestion of a last romp in bed, and walked out towards his wreck of a car.

I was pleasantly surprised to receive a text message from Millsey telling me that Bailey was okay with the deal, and that she was already on her way. I grinned while heading for the shower, put some clean clothes on and even brushed my hair and teeth. I then tidied up the place a bit. From my second storey window thirty minutes later, I watched as Bailey climbed out of a battered old Ford and confidently made her way to the door. She was still wearing the same green tee shirt and tight jeans from the pool hall. Luckily, I was pretty much alone at the pad and Bailey didn't have to put up with the ogling eyes of my friends as I greeted her and led the way upstairs to my pad.

Bailey tossed her bag of belongings on the floor and eyed my room while I closed the door behind her. She took in the black leather lounge suite, the massive rear projection TV and stereo system.

She grinned, "Fuck, this is pure luxury after Millsey shit hole."

I laughed, "Thanks, it's my own little paradise. Hey, are you okay with this thing? I don't want to force you into it. You're free to go anytime you like."

She turned and gazed into my eyes for a few seconds, "I'm okay so long as there's no rough stuff. You're pretty easy on the eye, so I'm okay with it, but thanks for asking."

"You don't have anything to worry about; I'm just into good old plain fashion sex."

She nodded and continued to take in her new surroundings before her attentions turned to a bowl of bananas on the bench.

"You can have one if you want." I offered.

She smiled, "Thanks, I haven't had any fruit for days. Millsey lives on junk food and I feel like shit at the moment."

I walked to the fridge and removed a few apples, oranges and grapes, "We can probably knock something up with this lot if you like, got some yogurt too."

"We can do the sex thing first if you like. I don't mind." Bailey suggested.

"Nah, we can eat first, I'm kinda hungry too."

"Fine by me."

Bailey was soon at my side assisting with the peeling and dicing of the fruit, we soon had a huge bowl of fruit with the yogurt mixed through. We chatted while we worked, the impending sex wasn't quite so important to me, for the moment anyway.

You wouldn't call Bailey beautiful, but there was something special about her. Her sandy coloured hair was pulled back into a pony tail which highlighted her long face. Her features were fine, her nose and mouth kind of small to be perfect, but her large green eyes overcame those little things. Only a little pale lipstick had been applied, and that that was certainly suffice. While Bailey only came up to my shoulders, she had presence and confidence that one couldn't overlook. Her tee shirt was long and baggy, and the fullness of her breasts lost beneath. The shirt covered her buttocks, but beneath the curves of her thighs plain to see. It was a nice package, certainly one I'd be proud to walk down the road with.

While we sat on the couch and ate from the same bowl, I asked Bailey how she hooked up with Millsey, mainly because she was way out of his class. She told me about her mother's boyfriend and what he'd try to do before she ran away, and how her mother didn't believe her. I in turn told her about my upbringing and how I ended up on the street at an early age. The similarity of our hard times brought us closer together in a short time, and I began to feel a little guilty about the reason Bailey was here. It had been more about pissing Millsey off and getting a few easy bucks. The sex thing was just a bonus, but the growing affinity between us had changed all that. This attractive girl sitting beside me had courage of her convictions, and was willing to take on the world as it came to her. But there was also a friendly softness to her, and she was a nice warm person underneath her thinly disguised armour. I couldn't help but admire the way she stood tall against her mother's boyfriend, how she didn't just give in to his demands. In the end, I just couldn't bring myself to take advantage of her situation, which is strange for a hard bastard like myself.