“Yo, Kelly. Hey, hey … Kelly. I’m fucking talkin’ to you, girl. You awake or what? What the fuck you doing; you working or what?”

Kelly lifted her head, glanced up at Jimmy, and gave him the finger before laying her head back down on the broken and paint-peeled old bench. “Bounce, motherfucker. Ya still owe me the last front. Can’t ya fucking tell when someone’s tryin’ to git some beauty sleep? What the fuck’s wrong with you? Can’t ya read my body language?”

“Yeah, I speak three languages, bitch. How many you speak?” he said, waving the bottle he was holding in a brown paper bag.

Kelly shifted her weight and looked up at him like he was insane. “Listen, motherfucker; I don’t care how many fuckin’ languages ya speak; if you can’t read body language, yer a fuckin’ moron, ’cause that’s the only language that matters.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, you fuckin’ workin’ or not? Are you fuckin’ holdin’ or what the fuck?”

“Big fuckin’ tough guy when Seb’s not around, huh? I’d love to hear you talk shit like that when he’s here. Go on, I said; fuckin’ bounce, loser. Yer interferin’ with my beauty rest.” Kelly pulled her hoodie back over her head and lay down.

“Yeah, just wait ’til you’re jonsin’ and I’m holdin’; we’ll see who fucking bounces then.” Jimmy staggered across the street to the sounds of horns honking and brakes screeching. Kelly repositioned her eighty-pound self on the two pieces of wood left on the bench. It was the only one for blocks, and right now she owned it.

“Hi, Kel; shove over, will ya, hon? If I don’t sit down and take these fucking shoes off for just two goddamned minutes I’m going to scream. Got anything for the pain, babe?”

“Yup, got cash?”

Scary already had her shoes off and was opening some new bandages. “Yeah, but don’t tell anyone, ’kay? If Z.T. found out, he’d smack me upside the head for dipping into his funds. Is thirty bucks good?”

Scary pulled the damp bills from her bra and slipped them quickly into Kelly’s open fist. “Oh, that’s just gross, Scary.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding, babe,” she said, looking down at Scary’s feet.

“Yeah, I know; sorry. What’s a girl to do, huh?”

Kelly laughed. “Hey, Scary, I learned a new word today. Equity: it’s like what ya got when ya do investing, kinda.”

“Yeah, it is, Kelly, it is. Are you thinking of investing in something?”

“Nah, I just like the way the word sounds. It’s nice … eck-we-dee.”

Scary took the two oxys from Kelly and popped them in her mouth, chewed them, and continued working at taking off the old and twisted up bandages.

“Why the fuck don’t you tell that motherfucker to stick those fuckin’ shoes up his ass?”

“Oh, yeah, ’cause I really want to see how he’d respond to that; he’d be pissed if he even knew I was sitting. Keep six for me, will ya? And don’t talk shit about him, Kelly.”

“Nah, seriously; why don’t cha just quit him, Scary. I don’t git it. Just quit him; he’s a mean motherfucker — no disrespect to you. Least Seb lets me get my rest.” Kelly motioned her hands in a Vanna kind of way at her bench. “So long as I make quota, he don’t say shit.”

“Quit him? Quit him? No way; I love him, I can’t quit him. It’s not so bad; I mean, he pays the rent, pays all the bills, buys me clothes, gives me money for my tanning, my nails, buys all the food, and takes care of me. He loves me, you know; you can’t always see that, but he’s different when it’s just me and him.”

“Oh, so then he’s what, like yer money manager, right?” Kelly gave a little shove to Scary and smiled.

“Hey, Kelly,” called Jimmy as he approached, “if I give you part a what I owe ya, can I get something on a front?”

“Yeah, yeah; you work on that Jimmy. Off ya go now, this here’s a confidential conversation,” she said, smiling at Scary.

Jimmy put his head down. “Okay, okay. Hey, sorry for talkin’ trash atchyah earlier, okay man?” and kept walking.

“Hey, Scary, can I really ask ya something, just ’tween you and me? ’Kay, I mean, do you … do ya ever think ’bout just quittin’ all this?”

“Quittin’?” Scary stretched out her hands and wiggled her new, sparkly nails. She smiled, looked up and down the street, and then back at her feet. “Quit all this? All this? Why would I ever want to do that, Kelly girl?”

“I don’t know, Scary. I just bin thinkin’, is all, like maybe there’s somin’ else we could do, ya know. Like … like something different; like some of the straight and normal peoples do. That’s all; just been thinkin’ a lot lately. I don’t think I’m suppose a be so tired a life and sore all the time — not ’til I’m at least twenty-five, anyway. I just bin thinkin’ is all; hey, it’s just between you ’n’ me, ’kay?”

Scary reached her arm over and threw it around Kelly, hugging her and kissing her cheek, and then mussing her hair.

“Yeah, no worries, hon. It’s just between you and me, Kelly.”

Kelly moved a strand of Scary’s hair and gently touched the side of her face. She caught sight of where makeup was wearing off and a bruise was visible. “God dammit, motherfucker! Quit that motherfucker, will ya? You’re smart; you could do anything; I’m just sayin’ is all.”

“Oh, sure, and while I’m at it, why don’t I just trade in these shoes for flats and go apply for a gig at Wally’s mart, or … ouch, damn, that hurts,” she said as she pulled the last bandage off and tossed it in the trash. “Or hey, maybe I should aim even higher than that, like say go to work for the Sally and get a job doing the outreach out here, huh?”

“Oh, no, here we go.” Kelly shifted her small body.

“You bet here we go again. I happen to know they are makin’ way less than a livin’ wage for all their best efforts, Kelly. They’re workin’ for a pimp, too; believe me. Their pimp just has a clever disguise that gives the illusion of bein’ better than Z.T. or Seb. Those outreach workers might not have the visible bruises we get, but believe me, they take just as many punches — just not with fists, and don’t you ever forget that. You think twelve bucks an hour and no benefits is any great gig? Just add up those numbers, math wiz. Why do you think that woman Darlene that works outreach is always hanging around at the food bank?”

“Man, I dunno. Guess ’cause her clients are there?”

Scary shakes her head, “Guess again, sugar.”

“Ah, I don’t know. But I know yer gonna tell me.”

“’Cause she probably can’t afford her rent if she buys food, and she can’t strike to demand better pay, ’cause there’s no union left there. And she can’t complain, ’cause it’ll go in her file and be used against her. And she knows there’s fifty other people waiting to take her place and suck it up, for a while anyway, thinkin’ like you that it’s such a great gig. Hum. Fuck that; no thanks. I’ll stick with the bruises that I can see coming and at least try and block, the kind that makeup can at least cover up.”

“Ah, yeah, speakin’ a that, ya need more makeup, Scary.”

“Oh, thanks, babe,” Scary pulled a compact from her purse, raised it, shook her head, and began to recover her bruises.

“Face it: the simple truth is we’re all slave labour to someone, Kelly. Just ’cause someone doesn’t have to suck cock doesn’t mean they’re not being pimped out. And these fancy people,” Scary stretched her arms out, with both fingers pointing back and forth to the passing cars and shoppers, “making all that money; well, let me tell you about them — they’re all pimped out, too. But their pimp calls it taxes instead of quota; these people hand over probably fifty per cent of everything they earn to the government — that’s their pimp, and they don’t have half the job security we do right now. Oh, oh, and yeah, a lot of them get stuck paying off a fortune in school loans on top of the fifty per cent to that pimp for the privilege of working those gigs … so really.”

“Wow, even we do better than that; I know I make more than fifty cents on the dolla’ and we got us security.”

Scary pulled another bill from her bra. “Fuck it, can I get one more? I just depressed myself.”

“Yeah, sure. Here, it’s on me — tax free,” Kelly cackles and slaps her thigh. “Hey, Scary, I gotta ask ya: where do ya learn all this shit anyways?”

“Are you kidding? My grandpa; he was a big shot union man. I got the best education no money could buy, and I just shared an important fact with you. I’ll give you another freebee, ’cause I’m on a roll.”

“Nah, you ain’t on no roll. The pills is just kickin’ in’s all babe. But, it’s okay, I love listening to yer shit.” Kelly laughed and leaned in closer.

“You know those government pimps, they’re smart ones. They know that most people only think short term; maybe they have a five-year plan. But the government pimps, they’re always on a fifty-year plan, and now they’re speedin’ shit up to like a twenty-five-year plan, to shut down unions with legislation, to regulate them right out so they can decrease pay and security; and then once that happens, which is coming fast, even the union activists will have no choice but to take gigs that pay way less. So whose pimp is more powerful, more fuckin’ sick? Even dictating people’s lives — not much different than any pimp out here — by forcing them back to work when they exercise their legal right to strike.”

Scary snapped closed her compact to emphasize her point before throwing it in her purse. She pulled out two smokes, and offered one to Kelly.

“But see, the sneaky thing with that is that by the time the next generation or two gets to the work force, there won’t be any unions left. And that means salaries will decrease, or at least remain the same, and make corporations and governments even fuckin’ richer. Maybe then they will think they have beat the masses down enough — or beat their whores down enough, for the purposes of our conversation.”

Scary sighed deeply and picked a piece of loosened paint from the bench with her new finger nails, and flicked it away. Kelly leaned in, hanging on Scary’s every word.

“But they’re scared, Kelly, the government, ’cause they know it might not last. When people get beat fuckin’ down, hard enough ’n’ long enough, they stand their creakily old bones up and rise up against injustice. And when enough people are poor enough and beat enough … then … then … they have the chance to make changes, but they gotta be angry enough, informed enough. That’d be a revolution and revolt.”

“What’s that? A revolt or rev-a-lution?”

“Revolution: it’s when people have had enough of the bullshit and decide to stand up for themselves and others.”

“So wait, is that like — like if I ever was pissed enough at Seb and go on strike, ’cause a my workin’ condition, and taxes ’n’ shit?”

“Yeah, just like that, I guess.” Scary reached down to try and put her shoes back on over the new bandages before they swelled too much. “People are far more powerful than they know, and way stronger, too; but, too bad too many of them are dumber than they know. You know why?”

“Nah, why?”

“’Cause they can’t see they even have a pimp. And the ones who get it think their kind of pimps is better than our kinda pimps. At the end of the day, we’re all just pimped out.”

“Okay, but what about us? I mean, we pay taxes kinda, too. Right? I mean, I got my quota to make for Seb, and then after that the rest is mine, so we’re all kinda equal then, right? I mean the norms and us?”

“Yup, right, just like taxes and … fuckin’ right you’re equal to everyone.”

“Yeah, I guess so, thanks. Okay, but wait a minute here: if I gotta pay Seb let’s say, five hundred bucks a day quota, and I make fifteen hundred, I could make double what he does.”

“Yeah, you could do, but if I were you, I wouldn’t break it down like that for him.”

“Nah, man, I’m just sayin’ those numbers like an example ’n’ shit, ya know? So’s I could make sure I understand is all. So hey, can I ask ya one more question ’bout this shit?”

“Sure.”

“So I bin thinkin’ then: what if we make us some new legis … legis … tations, whatever, or a revolt and just cut out the pimp. I mean, I’m just sayin’s all, why the fuck do we even give ’em our fuckin’ hard-earned scratch anyways — or taxes, whatever the fuck it is. I mean, I know I always had a pimp, but what if … what if, we didn’t? Would … would that be so bad?”

“Girl, yer crazy even thinkin’ that shit out loud!” Scary replied.

“Nah, man, think about it: you said that peoples who got unions do better and make more and watch each other’s backs so no one rips ’em off or takes advantage o’ them. Kinda like a pimp. So, so I was just thinkin’, why do we even let anyone take ’vantage a us at all?” Kelly paused and butted out her smoke before it was half smoked. She carefully placed the remainder behind her ear for later. “I mean, it’s not like we’re getting anything for the money we make, really. The guys that make the money are the, whatdayah call ’em, corporations, huh; so then I wanna be my own corporation then. I mean, I don’t know ’bout you, Scary, but I’d like a better fuckin’ bench to lay my head on. Ain’t that what yous was talkin’ ’bout — fightin’ for what — justice?”

Scary turned slightly, and looked down at her shoes before looking back at Kelly. “Who said you’re not smart? Look at you figurin’ this shit out that most normals can’t.”

“Love ya, Carrie. You’re not so … scary.”

“Yeah, I know, babe, love you, too. I have to go break, before Z.T. drives by and sees me sitting down. I have to go make some ek-we-dee.”

“Oh, I sure got me some equity, ’cause I been investin’ it with my investment bastard for three fuckin’ years now, Seb.” Kelly broke out in laughter. “Get it, investment bastard? That’s fuckin’ hysterical, ain’t it? He’s like a street investment broker, kinda.”

Scary laughed out loud and a car slowed down for her, and then sped off. “Fuck you, too, mister,” she said through her smile.

Kelly got up, stretched, and pulled her hoodie back on. “Hey, Scary; think I’m gonna go on strike. That’s it, I’m fuckin’ angry. I’m gonna motherfuckin’ revolt. This here’s the first day I ain’t payin’ taxes to no one, gonna keep all the fuckin’ money I make, and I’m gonna invest all o’ it wisely for a fuckin’ change.”

“Hey, thanks for letting me vent. Take care, you, and thanks for the dreams, bitch.”

“Anytime. Thanks fur the education an’ shit. Keep them pretty eyes wide open, huh? Hey, see ya at the diner after I make quota.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

Scary walked off, trying to hide her limp in her too-high shoes. Kelly walked off soon after; just a little bit taller, a little bit straighter.