Angie reached over the bedside table and found the phone. “Hello?” She said.
“Hello, is this the residence of Katie Hasbro?” A crisp sounding voice asked.
“Who wants to know?” Angie asked, wanting to protect the identity of the young teen.
“This is the NYPD. We need to contact the parents of Miss Hasbro.” Angie’s breath got caught in her throat.
“Yeah this is where she lives. Where is she?” Angie asked.
“I’m sorry, but we found Miss Hasbro on 42nd street. She OD’d We need to get in contact with her parents or guardian please.” Angie began to sob. Not Katie, not her Katie. She was only seventeen.
“Miss?”
“She lives…lived…here, with me,” Angie cried.
“We need you to come down to the station please, and identify the body,” The woman said. Angie nodded, and then remembered the officer couldn’t hear that.
“Okay, I will.”
“What’s your name please?”
“Angelique Carson.”
“Okay Miss Carson, please come by our station on maple street.”
“Okay.” Angie hung up the phone. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. She had told Katie so many times to go easy on the drugs and partying. But she thought she was indestructible. Angie wanted to get her into rehab, but it was too late.
Angie looked at the empty bed and sighed. She had only been able to clear the sheets off the day before, and it had been almost three weeks since Katie’s death. It tore her apart, she was so lonely. She loved Katie like a little sister. She had no one to talk to now. No one to share jokes with, or to cook for. She wanted a companion so badly. She got up and began to clean some more. She picked up a handful of papers. She was about to throw them in the trash when she noticed her name on one. Then she remembered that it was Taylor’s phone number and address. She knew it was risky to call him. She didn’t want to get him into any trouble. She knew he would be someone for her. She needed him so badly. She grabbed her glass jar from the closet and dumped the contents on the bed. She counted the money up, and was pleased it came to near three hundred dollars. She wondered how long that would last her in Tulsa, after taking the bus down. She needed more money. Angie searched through the house, looking in all the drawers, pockets, jars and under cushions. She found four dollars and seventy-three cents. Not that big of a difference. She sighed. She would have to serve a few more men before she could go. She scribbled a quick note to the landlord, telling them she would be leaving soon. She changed her clothes and headed out onto the streets.
Angie leaned back against the bus seat. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing this. Was she stupid or just stupidly hopeful? She had given almost everything she had to some of the other girls in the business. She had left instructions for flowers to be put at Katie’s humble gravesite every week. And then she had gotten on a bus headed towards Oklahoma. They said she was insane. What would Oklahoma be compared to New York City? Calmer, cleaner, quieter, that was Angie’s answer. The other girls laughed at her. She kept thinking about Taylor. What if he didn’t even remember her? She didn’t know what she would do then. “Prostitute” didn’t look so great on a resume. What would she do in Tulsa? Where would she stay? What would she say when people asked her questions? “I came here to be with a sixteen year old boy, I used to be a hooker up in New York”. No, that just didn’t sound right. Angie closed her eyes. In a few minutes, she was asleep.
Taylor followed his brothers, his father and PR team into the studio. But, instead of going into the back, he stayed and stared out the front window. He felt like he was stuck in a rut. He felt lonely, which was odd, considering he had a large family. He wanted a girlfriend, but he was tired of teenage girls. They thought they already knew who he was. Just from what they saw on television. It was sickening the way the entertainment industry had these girls wrapped around their fingers. Taylor watched a group of people leave the bus station, that was situated across the street from the small studio. There was a woman who walked slowly down the street, looking lost. Taylor stared at her. Without hesitation, he ran out the studio door and across the street.
“Angie!” He called out. Several people turned around, including her. Her eyes lit up for a second, and then her look turned to worry. Taylor approached her.
“What are you doing here?” He exclaimed.
“I was lonely in New York. Katie died. I just couldn’t stay up there any longer. I know it was stupid coming down here but…” Angie said, looking at the ground with tears in her eyes. Taylor interrupted her.
“I’ve been thinking about you. I never stopped thinking about you,” Taylor said quietly. Angie looked at him.
“I think that you need to get away from me, I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Where are you going to stay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, call me, okay?”
“What if one of your parents answer?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Angie didn’t look sure.
“Trust me,” Taylor said, gently squeezing her arm. Angie nodded.
“I’ll talk to you later,” She said.
“Okay.” Taylor watched as Angie walked down the street, never looking back.