December 23rd, 2001. 5:28 pm.

Gerard wasn’t your typical twenty-four year old. He’s a well known pimp in Belleville, New Jersey that handled pretty much most of your social life. You turned to this life for the sake of money and some sort of twisted attention you sought for. Your life was filled with nothing but misery, but when he laid his eyes on you, his pearly, hazel eyes, full of ideas—some wicked, some full of genuine affection—he knew he had to have you.

It’s been a year since you turned to the life of a harlot; since you’ve met with other pimps and souteneurs that he scheduled for you. Today, you were sitting by him, his arm wrapped around your waist, the other clinging onto the end of his cigarette bud that was quickly running out of life. In deep, cognitive thought, he blew the smoke from his lungs into your face with squinted eyes, “How does a Christmas special sound to you, suga’?” He inquired, the ash from his cigarette plunging down onto his classic fur coat.