Broken Crutch

By Beverly J. Walker

Broken Crutch tells the story of the lives of three dysfunctional individuals:
Mercedes Kemp, a single mother, rebuilds her life after an abusive
relationship. Desiring a more affluent life she begins transporting drugs.
The money is great; but the drug lord is the devil incarnate. Intuition tells her
something is wrong. Can she get out in time? Kodjoe Jackson, a widower and
father, hates everything about drugs. But what will he do when he fi nds himself
addicted to the very substance he despises? And Cora May Richardson, a
single mother of seven, loves her drugs and vowels to never give them up; until
her twelve year old son, Tank gives her an ultimatum.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781479752188

Beverly J. Walker

Beverly J. Walker is the author of three novels. The Grandma’s Drama published in 2007 was the first of her works, followed by Broken Crutch, published in 2010. Her current novel is, (the second edition of) The Grandma’s Drama. Beverly J. Walker loves pulling her audience into her imagination, as she captures life’s moments, both good and unpleasant and weaves them into something wonderful and intriguing. Her writing depicts the lives of the dysfunctional family dynamics. Beverly lives in New Jersey with her husband.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

"N ow I lay me down to sleep. I pray my Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray my Lord my soul to keep. Hi, God, this is Maya. Thank you for sending little, Lord Jesus to watch over me at night. Please bless my mommy, my teacher, my teddy, and my best friend, Bubba. Please watch over all the children in the whole wide world. Bless the poor children who I see on TV who are hungry and sick. Oh, and God, I saw some kids on TV who did not have any parents, so can you please be their parent? Oh, one more thing, God, I saw that place were the water came out of the sea and swallowed up all those people and their homes. That was very scary, God. My teacher said that a child shouldn’t be concerned with such a thing. But I can’t help but to worry about them, God. That’s why I’m telling you about it. Just in case you didn’t know. You know, God, I don’t think kids should be sick, scared, or hungry, and if you want me to, I’ll send them half my lunch money so they can have good food just like me and Bubba. I love you, God. Aaamen."

Maya got up off her knees and went over to the big Livingpool rocker and gave it a push.

How was that push, Mommy? I hope you liked the way I said my prayers. Mommy, you would have been real proud of me today in school. I was the only one who got all the words right in our spelling bee. My teacher gave me a big red candy apple for winning. I gave my candy apple to Bubba. He is so greedy, Maya said with the same bossy attitude that she would have used had she been talking to Bubba himself. Plus, candy apples are such messy treats. Anyhow, I was happy to win the spelling bee. Except, well, there was one thing I was a little sad about. Out of all the mothers, you were the only mother who wasn’t there! My teacher asked me where you were. Don’t worry, Mommy, I told her that you were at home sick with a terrible cold. Maya hung her head down in embarrassment. I know, she said sadly, you told me to never lie, well, except for our little secret, and I will never tell anyone about that, Mommy. I promise. But I had to tell my teacher something! Maya said as her eyes widened and her hands went up in the air. "She just kept asking me over and over again, ‘Where’s your mother, Maya? Didn’t she get the note I sent out to the parents?’ Maya recalled the awkward feeling. Abashment overwhelmed her as the other mothers and her classmates studied her as they all wondered where the child’s abandoned mother was. But it was nice how all the other mothers clapped for me. Just wished you were there," she added sadly.

Maya’s head dropped again.

Mommy, sometimes I want to tell you things, but I don’t want to upset you, so I tell Teddy. Teddy always listens to me. Sometimes I talk to him all night. He doesn’t mind. He has nothing else to do.

Maya let out a huge yawn. I’m getting sleepy now, Mommy. I think I’ll say good night.

Maya got out of her bed and went over to the rocker; she took Teddy from the seat of the chair, placed him in the bed with her, and turned off the lamp. And in her dark, cozy bedroom with nothing more than Teddy to protect her, she said, Good night, Mommy, wherever you are.

She was not a big girl. She was just full of intelligence varied with her childhood innocence not guilty of any offence. She, like many children her age, lacked worldly experience when the result in failure to recognize the harmful intentions or unintended of others affects the child, even if the others were people a child should have been able to trust and depend upon, like a parent. Children are governed by the love that they hold in their heart for their parents, not so much for how they are treated. It seems God created children that way.

Maya learned fast because she had to. She learned how to make her own breakfast, how to do the dishes, how to choose an outfit for school, and how to hide in her bedroom closet on stormy nights, which frightened the daylights out of her. But most importantly, she learned how to keep the secret, the secret that for as long as she could remember was just a normal way to live.

Whenever Maya was asked what her mother did for a living, her answer remained the same, the lie that it was. My mommy’s a waitress. It was rehearsed throughout her childhood, and although her mother did work as a waitress once, it was short lived. Little Maya actually believed that her mother worked in a restaurant; she had no reason not too. That was mostly because her mother, Mercedes, never told her anything differently.

Truth of the matter was Mercedes transported drugs. She worked during the night, sometimes not returning home until late in the afternoon of the next day. Sometimes she made it home in time to prepare Maya for school. Sometimes she didn’t; in either case, Maya knew exactly what to do.

Mercedes would not have traded her life for a million dollars, essentially because it was worth much more. She was obsessed with her lavished lifestyle. She had a passion for nice things. Her salary was considerably substantial; however, the only word that came to Mercedes’s mind about her pay was beautiful, as were her home, her cars and all that she owned.

Mercedes was not sociable with her neighbors. She’d wave hello or goodbye and then keep on stepping. She did not want them, as she would say, all up in her business. Her neighbors never questioned her about anything mainly because she lived a very reserved and some what reclusive lifestyle. It wasn’t that she did not desire friendship from others. It was just important that she and her daughter maintained their privacy for now.

Mercedes and her daughter dressed in the latest style—nothing but name brand everything for this mother and daughter. Maya owned everything a child her age would want. She had a laptop computer, a beautiful canopy bedroom set, a wide screen color TV complete with a Play Station, a collection of Bratz dolls, and the most beautiful tree house in her backyard that resembled the appearance of an oversized dollhouse, and what she loved most of all, a room full of teddy bears. She loved teddy bears. They were her company when Mercedes was at work.

Little Maya was a precocious child. And although she was mature in the nature of taking care of herself, the childlike innocence was still intact. Maya was an easygoing child who was accountable for carrying out duties that were expected of a much older child, while at the same time her childlike characteristics were suitable for her age. Most people who had the pleasure of knowing her often treated her as if she was a much older child. At home, she was the little mother of the house; at school, she was the teacher’s helper, and on the playground, she was always the organizer of anything that was done. Other children her age looked up to her to do such things as making fair of inequitable situations. The other children respected Maya. They knew that she would be fair-minded about whatever problem they’d present to her, and her verdict was always the final decision.

There was never a father figure in little Maya’s life. Mercedes had left him before Maya was born. This too was another normalcy in Maya’s life. She never missed him because he was never there. When she was old enough to ask questions about her father, Mercedes stopped that right at the door. She told Maya that her father had died in the war, depicting him as a real war hero. Actually, the only one that he was dead to was Mercedes, and the only war he had ever been in was with Mercedes’s face, which was the reason she had to leave him before any real fatalities occurred. He was the reason for the guarded lifestyle.

Most of Maya’s friends lived in a single-parent home, with the mother being that parent—all the more justifying in the mind of little Maya that all was well with it being just her and her mother.

Maya was always a delight to be around. In fact, the only time she showed annoyance was when one of her playmates actually acted their age, by crying or acting out because they could not have their way. To little Maya, this was babyish behavior, and whenever Maya witnessed this behavior among her little peers, she would immediately intervene to resolve the situation.

Mercedes loved seeing the little mediator in her daughter. It showed character and maturity. She’d stand back proudly and smile at her child, thinking, how mature her daughter was for her age.

Maya’s maturity allowed lack in Mercedes’s mothering skills. She did not have the time or the patience for all that mushy babying stuff. She needed her daughter to be just that way she was if she were to keep her night job.

Maya was a latchkey child as early as the time that she could reach the keyhole, never being afraid to walk into a home that was absent of parent. But lately, since she had gotten older, and possibly because she was getting older, it seemed that the nights that she had been left alone seemed longer and more frightening. Perhaps she was beginning to understand that a child her age should not have been left alone at night.

But still, no one must ever know the secret, not her teacher, not the principal, not even her best friend Bubba, must ever know that little Maya spent many nights at home alone with nothing more than her Teddy to protect her from furious thunderstorms, possible fires, or night intruders.

This was her and her mother’s special, little secret.

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It was seven-thirty in the morning when Mercedes came home. She began to strip at the door, leaving pieces of clothing behind as she made her way to Maya’s bedroom. She had had a rough night and could not shake it from her mind. Normally, getting her packages to and fro was a piece of cake. That was one of the reasons she loved her so-called job. Pick up and deliver, just like a pizza delivery man with the pay of a Harvard grad, she’d always remind herself.

She was glad to have made it back home without any real problems. She recalled her night shift: As she pulled up to deliver her first package, she noticed a strange van sitting on the corner of the street. The windows were tinted. This was one of her regular runs and Mercedes was very familiar with the area. Something in her gut told her to keep driving. She decided to make this her last stop, see how things will look in a few hours from then.

Her next stop wasn’t much better. She could tell by the lights and the sirens that there was a bust going down at the very hotel she was to stop. Wow! she said. She watched the police escort three young men she was familiar with leaving the hotel in handcuffs. Just ten minutes earlier, and she would have been apprehended right along with those three guys.

Shit’s too damn hot out here tonight, she said to herself. She pulled away inconspicuously. There had to have been some tip offs for the heat wave as far as she was concerned.

Mercedes had three more stops to make before returning home, not to mention the fact that she would have to return the undelivered packages back to Matthias who was one of the guys she transported for if things did not go as planned.

The money had been good—damn good! But lately the thought of getting out of the business had crossed Mercedes’s mind. In fact, not only had it crossed her mind but had come for a visit and had decided to hang around for a while, just taunting the hell out of her. This thought she could have done without because the last thing she needed was uncertainties hanging around her mind while she was trying to do her job. However, in all honesty, she was tired of looking over her shoulders or harvesting the feeling of pending doom. Seven years in the business one would think that that was enough time to have gotten established in such a way that she would be able to retire from the ‘transporting business.’ But still, there were a few things she felt she needed before ending her career. Her goal was to be able to bank at least 150 grand to fall back on before quitting the business. But every time her bank account grew, something pretty caught her eyes that she just had to have. But still, official judgment was prominent, and the last thing Mercedes wanted was to call attention to her. No one knew her. She needed to keep things that way. Just in case Maya’s crazy ass father ever had the notion to look for her.

As she crossed the Delaware Memorial Bridge, she hoped that all would go well on her next stop because she was tired and all she wanted was for this night to be over with.

The thought of going back to school to get her GED crossed her mind. Yes, the first thing Monday morning, I’m going to go and sign myself up for one of those classes to get my GED, been puttin’ it off too damn long anyhow. I can’t do this all my life, she said softly to herself. Sooner or later I know I’ma get busted, the thought of it all made her recoil. Your change, said the toll attendant. He wondered what was on her mind to make her react in such a way.

Then just like many times before, she played out the scenario in her mind of just what would happen to her beautiful home, her cars, and most importantly, her daughter if she were to ever get busted. She saw everything she had worked so hard for just vanish right before her eyes. Damn! To expunge the chilling thoughts from her mind, she turned on the radio hoping to replace the thoughts with some music, only to hear about a drug bust in North Camden. She switched to her CD player—music selected for such an occasion.

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Hey, suga’, I’m home! Mercedes sang as loudly as she could as she entered Maya’s room. She noticed that Maya was not in her bed. There was no need to panic. Mercedes knew exactly where to look. She went over to Maya’s walk-in closet and found her daughter on the floor wrapped in her comforter with Teddy in her arms. To Mercedes, it was as common as finding her all snuggled in the bed. Never in Mercedes’s wildest dream did she think that her daughter was actually hiding from her fears. She just figured that this was just something that Maya did like most children with their strange behavior.

Come on, suga’, you gotta get yourself ready for school this morning. Shit! I’m tired. She bent down and picked Maya up and carried her to her private bathroom. Maya sat on the seat of her little vanity, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. How’s momma’s big girl this morning? Mercedes asked, disappearing down the hall and removing more clothing until nothing remained except her bra and G-strings. Maya? she called from her room just inches away from her bed. Please don’t forget to put the alarm on when you leave for school. Maya?

I heard you, Mommy.

Damn, I’m tired. She pulled the covers back, jumped in the bed, and placed a blindfold over her eyes. Just when she began to doze off, she sat straight up in the bed. Shit! I still have Thomas’ money. Well, hell, I’ll just get myself a little rest and get up early enough to get his money to him. Don’t want that crazy bastard coming over here wit’ his shit. She pulled the covers over her head and was snoring in seconds.

Little Maya had gotten her shower and was dressed for school. She combed her hair and then put it up in a ponytail. She made herself a bowl of cereal, ate it, and washed the dish and spoon.

Mommy, Maya called as she grabbed her little Bratz book bag. Can you please look at my paper? I got an A on it yesterday. You have to sign it since you weren’t there. Mom…

Maya, please! Just sign it for me, suga’. You know how. Your mother’s beat. I’ve got to get my rest!

Maya sighed as she signed her mother’s name to her paper and then sighed even heavier with the thought that she would have to disturb her mother once again before leaving for school.

She went into the room and stood at the foot of her mother’s bed. She wiggled her mother’s foot a little. Mommy, she called. Mercedes just snored. She called and wiggled her mother’s foot again. This time Mercedes kicked but still did not answer. Mommy! Maya yelled. Mercedes threw the comforter off her face. What is it, child? Don’t you understand how tired I am?

Lunch money, Mommy. I need lunch money.

Maya, just look in my purse and get twenty dollars; that should hold you for the week. Now please, suga’, let your mommy get some rest before I go crazy. Do you want a crazy mommy?

No, Mommy.

Well, you’ve got to stop buggin’ me and let me rest. I promise, when you come home after school, we’ll have the best mother-and-daughter day ever, okay?

But, Mommy, what about Bubba? It’s my turn to buy his lunch this week. He bought mine all last week.

Suga’, get whatever you need, just keep the noise down, okay?

Mercedes repositioned herself under the covers and was singing that snoring song before her head hit the pillow.

Maya picked up her mother’s purse and took out the wallet. The money looked strange to her because she wasn’t used to the new currency yet. She counted what she thought were twenty one dollar bills for her lunch and then another twenty for her friend, Bubba. She opened her little purse and placed the money in it. She placed the wallet back in her mother’s purse, placed the purse beside her mother on the bed, and pulled the covers over Mercedes a little more, then gave her a little kiss. I love you, Mommy, she said before leaving for school. By now, Mercedes was calling the hogs.

The doorbell rang right before Maya had finished punching in the last number of the security code to secure her mother in the house. The sound of the doorbell startled Mercedes just enough to make her arm flitch, causing her wallet to fall out of the purse and onto the floor.

Bubba, I thought I told you not to touch that doorbell. You know my mommy’s asleep. You wanna wake her up and break her rest or somethin’, boy?

I don’t get it, Maya. What does she do, wake up, get you dressed for school, and then jump back in bed? Once my momma gets up, she’s up for the day. Yah know something, Maya, I think your mother’s got that iron-poor blood thing. My grandma had it. She had to get a needle so she could get around because her blood was so tired.

Bubba, blood don’t get tired.

My grandma’s did.

Whatever. Just lay off that doorbell. I come out every morning the same time. There’s no reason to be ringing that bell. Got it, Bubba?

Yeah, yeah, I got it. Bubba shook his head and simply said, Women!

And what is that you’re eating, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast? Bubba, don’t tell me that that’s your breakfast. A kid should have a nutritional breakfast, like toast and eggs or cereal.

"Oh, I did have toast, eggs, and a bowl of cereal before I left the house. This is my morning snack. It’ll hold me ’til lunch."

Bubba was a chubby little fellow who had a thing for Maya. It was puppy love at its best. Every morning he’d pick her up for school and carry her book bag after he’d eaten his morning snack. He’d meet her at lunch time and then walks her home after school. The only thing he loved more than Maya was food and was in his glory whenever he’d find himself in the company of both: his food and his little sweetheart.

Maya, on the other hand, thought of Bubba as her BFF, next to Teddy of course; after all, Teddy was there at the crucial times of her life. Teddy was told secrets that Bubba will never be told. She held Teddy through the crackling sounds of the night. And during the darkness and stillness, when tears of fear and loneliness invaded her little world, Teddy was the only one who would be present. He was there when the braveness and refreshingly sassiness, which she displayed around other children escaped her.

The two of them stopped at the corner store because Bubba needed a soda to wash down the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which could have choked a horse. Maya often carried tissues to tidy Bubba up because she knew he would need it after his snacks. After all, if he was going to carry her designer book bag, he would have to have clean hands.

In the store, Bubba asked for his soda and bought Maya her favorite snack, a nutritional bar. Maya promised in return to buy a treat for him at lunchtime when she would be paying for his lunch with the money she had gotten from her mother’s purse.

In the meantime, it seemed that Mercedes was not going to get that rest she though she deserved because no sooner than Maya had left for school, the door bell began to rang and rang. Mercedes tried to ignore the ringing. She tried placing the pillow over her head. But it was to no avail. Finally, she got up fussing and cursing, stumping her toe and pushing her wallet in the deep part under her bedside table. She hated that she had to leave the one place that was providing her the sleep her tired body desperately needed. Whoever it was on the other side of that door was certainly going to get a piece of her mind. She could not imagine who it could be. She knew it wasn’t Maya; she had her key, and even if she had lost it, there was another key hidden in the front yard under a certain rock, which was placed there for such an occasion.

She even felt a little sorry for herself for having to get up. Why, if the person on the other side of that door understood how hard she works that night, even they would be a bit self-conscious for disturbing her rest.

Come on, woman, open this damn door and give me my damn money before somebody gets hurt up in there!

Thomas Green, thought Mercedes. What the hell is he doing at my door?

She opened the door and stood there with her hands on her hips with an expression of a very disturbed, what? Thomas pushed Mercedes aside and entered her home without being welcomed in.

What the hell is this, Thomas? I thought I told you to never ever come here. I keep my private life separated from my career.

Oh, is that what you call it, your career? Hum.

Thomas took a good look around Mercedes’s home and shook his head up and down, showing approval of the taste of her decorative flare.

White carpet blanked the floors as far as he could see. Very expensive black art placed in even more expensive frames hung from the walls throughout the house. Custom-made drapes hung from each window. A wide-screen TV complemented the living room as well as the coolest stereo system Thomas had ever seen. In an open space in the living room rested a baby-blue, baby grand piano, and in another open space on the living room floor sat a gold and white harp. In front of the sliding door window were various house plants, which Mercedes had spared no expenses to have a florist come in once a week to care for. Mercedes’s house was beautiful and well kept. Thomas was impressed.

What do you want, Thomas?

What do you think, bitch? I waited all morning. Where’s my damn money? You know damn well I don’t play that shit. You work for me. You do things my way.

I would have bought you your money this morning, Thomas. Just needed a couple hours of rest, she said, wishing that she had never given him her address in the first place.

Well, I don’t have a couple of hours. In fact, I got people to see and places to go. Ain’t got no time for no bullshit, so if you would just get me my money, I’ll be on my way.

Just wait here, she ordered him.

Mercedes went back to her bedroom to get Thomas’s money. Being aware of the kind of man she was dealing with, she just wanted his black behind out of her house as quickly as possible. It was common knowledge to anyone who knew him what he was capable of doing. Thomas Green was the kind of man who’d shoot first and ask stupid questions to the corpse like, Man, why’d you make me do that?

Thomas loved being himself. He had an excessively high opinion of himself. And no one had a second chance with him. Said the only way to get respect from a niggah was to shoot his ass first and ask questions later. Said dead men can’t answer with a lie.

Mercedes despised Thomas Green and hated the fact that she had to work for him. She had an extremely intensive aversion toward him, and understandably so; morally, he was a debauched and very dangerous person, but he paid those who worked for him very handsomely. That was why she felt she had to have Thomas as her boss. Next to her daughter, money was the most important thing to her, and he was loaded; however, he had a bourgeois avariciousness about himself. The more money he made, the more evil, self-centered, and corrupted he’d become.

Other than working as a waitress, transporting drugs was the only job she had ever done. She loved having money all the time. Having it complemented her lifestyle. After completing her house with the things she and her daughter needed to maintain a comfortable home environment, all that was left went into the bank. And she would have still had a nice piece of money in there if her eyes hadn’t convinced her mind to pay cash for that customized pink-and-white Hummer H2 SUV, which she just had to have. It wasn’t enough for her to just have the Mercedes—Benz S600 sedan. The price for it was over $158,000. She decided it would go well with her name. The money came fast, so she know that within a couple of months, she would be able to replace the money she had used for the Hummer, plus more if nothing else shiny and new caught her eye. Her home was paid for, and little Maya had her own personal account, which she used whenever she and her mother went shopping. Maya’s college fund was sitting and waiting for the day she would need it. Mercedes arranged it so that no one, not even she, could touch that money. And Maya could only receive it when she turns eighteen.

Although Mercedes was young and hadn’t finished school, money was no stranger to her hands. Her parents were well-off. Mercedes’s parents were an interracial couple, her father Spanish and her mother African American. Mercedes was blessed by inheriting the best of both her parents’ genes. Her mother contributed her curvy hips, tiny waste, and her plump apple bottom. Her beautiful full head of hair and lovely long legs were a gift from her poppy. And the combination of her parents delivered her sweet bronze complexion.

No one ever had to tell Mercedes that she was a little hottie. As early as she could see her image in the mirror, she had figured that out. She’d look in that mirror and just sing, Pretty Baby to herself, not realizing that she was looking at her own image. Her parents would discuss this matter, with her mother saying, That child’s stuck on herself already. Her father, in defense of his precious baby girl, would say, Eva, that baby don’t know what she’s saying. She’s only three years old. But Eva would set him straight. You better hear what I’m sayin’, Narsisco. We’ve got a baby diva on our hands.

Mercedes’s father tried to protect his baby girl since the day she made her debut in this world. But not even Narsisco could prevent the troubles his daughter’s beauty had in store for her throughout her life. Her father was proud of his gorgeous baby girl. But her mother knew the trouble that awaited her only child. For she knew the curse of beauty; it had been a problem of her own.

It was Mercedes’s beauty that had enticed the roughest thugs into her life. Mercedes owned a beauty that a man would kill for. And Cyrus, Maya’s father, had done just that.

Mercedes had met Cyrus at the age of twelve. And although she was only twelve, her body was saying eighteen. Cyrus was a nineteen-year-old high school dropout who supported himself by selling drugs. And Mercedes, like most young girls her age, was most definitely, defiantly into the thug thing. Cyrus owned only name brand clothing. He had the gold grills. He had the cars, fully equipped with anything and everything—you name it; he had. He had style and charisma. He had looks, the gift of gab, and money—lots of money—but most importantly, he had Mercedes’s attention.

Now Mercedes was not so much in love with Cyrus’s money as she was genuinely in love with him. Money came easily to her as a child. Heck, she was her father’s only child, and he was loaded. There was nothing materially that she could not get from her poppy. But there was something that Cyrus had that Poppy could not provide. It was that feeling that stirred her senses each time he looked at her, that tingle in the pit of her stomach that she could not describe or explain whenever he touched her. Her eyes were addicted to the sight of him; she had to see him everyday even if it meant sneaking out of the house while her parents slept. Truly, this must be love, she thought.

Mercedes tried hiding her relationship with Cyrus from her parents for as long as she could until, like any habit, eventually one becomes trifling in hiding it. Somehow, it no longer mattered that her parents knew that she was seeing a man who was almost twenty, a man who was dealing drugs, a man who was taking advantage of their baby girl.

Eva and Narsisco tried to put their foot down and forbid Mercedes from seeing Cyrus. They had even threatened to call the police on him and have him locked up for messing with a minor. So Mercedes promised to stop seeing him. She did not want him put away. She loved him with all of the love that a twelve-year-old girl thought love should be. But sure enough, she stopped seeing him. Her parents were happy to see that she had started hanging around children her own age.

But when Mercedes begun hanging around G-Money, a young upcoming gangster, who was a younger version of Cyrus who was later found dead after having a few words with Cyrus, Mercedes knew what she needed to do.

No one could ever prove that Cyrus had anything to do with his death. However, those who knew Cyrus knew his work because he always left his signature, a single gold tooth upon the chest of his victim. It was said that he would place the gold tooth there because he could afford to.

Mercedes was approached by Cyrus the day of G-Money’s funeral, instructing her that if she did not want the same thing to happen to her family that she would meet him later that night at a nearby nightspot.

She hated doing