Page 64 of Trailer Trash

“No. Branson told me that I’d gotten drunk and we’d gone home early. I’d asked him for rough sex, which was why I was so sore. That sounded so unlike me—all of it—but I never dreamed that Branson would let some guy screw me for money. Not even when he had a new used iPhone later that day.”

“It happened again?” Jed asked.

“Yeah, two weeks later, only Branson didn’t even try to fool me by takin’ me out. He invited some friends over for a party. I hadn’t had a drink since my blackout, but Branson convinced me to try some moonshine punch. Sure enough, the next day was the same.”

“You didn’t figure it out?”

“I know I sound like an idiot, but I mentioned it to Stella and she told me not to worry about it. That she’d seen me drinking cup after cup of punch. She said I’d practically dragged Branson into our room to screw him while the party was still goin’ on.” I shook my head. “But that wasn’t me. It wasn’t adding up. So I asked Beasley what was goin’ on—and he buttoned up tighter than a clam. He was usually talkin’ ninety miles a minute, so I knew something was up, yet I still couldn’t let my mind go there. I thought maybe Beasley was embarrassed by my behavior.

“Branson started having more parties after that, and always on my nights off. Sometimes nothin’ would happen, but other nights I would black out again and there would be bruises on my arms or legs I couldn’t explain. And not only that, Branson had more money than usual and Beasley would hardly look at me, which made it awkward since we were all living together. Everything changed the night I refused to drink anything except from my water bottle. Branson got pissed and accused me of being a nagging bitch—which made no sense since I’d sat in a corner and kept to myself. When I pointed that out, he told me that I was bringing down the party, and I needed to get with the program and quick.”

“He had someone who didn’t like waiting,” Jed said as though he was talking about the weather.

“Yeah, and Branson gotso pissedwhen I still refused. He backhanded me and told the guy that he could have me fully conscious since he liked it rough. So the guy dragged me to my bed and screwed me. He didn’t care that I was screaming and clawing the whole time—” My voice broke. “He loved every minute of it. All while Branson was filming it from the corner.”

Jed remained completely still.

“When he was done, he got up and tossed Branson several hundred-dollar bills. He said he’d pay extra if he could have me like that again.” I paused. “After he left, I told Branson I was going straight to the police, but he laughed and said he had plenty of videos of that guy and others screwing me without any resistance. Besides, he said, who were the police gonna believe? A stripper who had sold herself for sex before or a man who was the foreman on a construction job? And I realized he was right.”

“Neely Kate.” His voice sounded strangled.

“I left. I packed up my stuff and headed to Zelda’s, but he followed me and beat the shit out of me in Zelda’s front yard. He told me he owned me. From that moment forward, he said, I couldn’t so much as take a shit without his permission.”

“Zelda let him get away with that?” Jed asked, incredulous.

I released a tearful laugh. “She’d gone to visit her sister, Stella’s mom.”

“And Stella . . . ?”

“She told me I was lucky to have a man to take care of me.” I swallowed my tears. “Branson left my car at Zelda’s and told me that he would be driving me to and from work from then on, and when I was home without him, he’d lock me in our room, dead-bolting it shut.”

“And his brother still lived there?”

“Yeah.”

“And he still sold yourservices, I presume?”

“He didn’t drug me after that, but I wasn’t so sure being conscious was any better. Some men just wanted to screw. Others wanted me to role play. Some wanted to rape me, and every single time someone screwed me, Branson was there filming it all. All the while, Branson kept getting richer and I felt more and more like dyin’.” My mouth lifted into a soft smile. “And then I met Carla.”

“At the club?”

“Yeah. She saw something was off . . . She told me I had dead eyes, and then she met Branson and guessed he was the cause. When she saw how controlling he was, she offered to help me leave him.”

I snuck a glance at Jed, who seemed like a solid statue.

“She knew Branson liked to watch me dance, and Stan gave him the schedule so he would know when to expect me on stage. That gave me a window of about five to ten minutes from when I left my hostessing duties to get changed in the back to when I went up on stage. Carla came up with a plan that she would give me the keys to her car as soon as I went into the back. That would hopefully buy me a good ten minutes to get away before Branson figured it out. She said she’d loan me a hundred dollars for gas money, and the plan was for me to take off for my granny’s house in Arkansas. She’d stay behind and cover for me. We agreed that I’d figure out how to get the car back to her later.”

“It didn’t work?”

“I found out I was pregnant a week before we planned for me to leave.” I shook my head. “Or rather Stella figured out I was pregnant. I was viciously ill, just like with my last pregnancy. Branson was pissed because I was too sick to entertain, and I couldn’t dance on the pole without losing my lunch. So Stella got a pregnancy test because I couldn’t shop on my own. Sure enough, there were two pink lines.

“The last thing I needed was a baby tying me to Branson—or one of those horrible men—but I wasn’t so sure Carla’s plan would work. I suspected Branson would track me down to Henryetta, and if he found out I had a baby, there’d be no escaping him. So when Stella suggested the abortion, I decided it was my only chance to save my baby from the hell I’d lived through, as sick as that sounds. One day, when Branson was going fishing with his friends, she got me out and drove me to a doctor in Oklahoma City. There’s a waiting period, and Stella knew this was a one-shot deal, so she found someone to do it off the books.”

“How’d you pay for it?” Jed asked.

A single tear slid down my cheek. “Stella paid for it.”

“What’d she get out of it?”

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