"Babyface Jane" - Written by Jack Flack/SAZ

    The night began like so many others had.  Two cheap
tricks, and still looking for the one that would put her over
the top.  It was a never ending cycle.  Every time she would
make a little more money off the street, she'd spend a little
more each day.
    Her name on the street was Babyface Jane.  She had a fake
ID which said she was 23, but nothing could hide her
childlike looks.  And for good reason; 15 years old is bad
for business.  At least that's what her old pimp, One-Eye
John used to tell her.  That was before he'd tried to
strangle her and take her money.  "No one wants a damn kid,"
he'd shout at her.  Her body looked like any fine woman's
does, but there was no hiding her innocent face.
    After hanging out on the corner of 23rd and Lincoln for
over an hour, it began to drizzle.  Lightly, at first, but by
the sight of the clouds, she knew the heavier rains would not
be far behind.
    A car approached, her, barely idling.  It was a late
model Buick with the windows tinted so dark Jane could not
see inside.  Jane walked up to the car, cautiously, like a
dog that's just been smacked by it's owner.
    "Hey there," Jane started.  "What are you ..."
    "Get in," a voice said, coming from the one inch crack at
the top of the window.
    "Show me some cash," Jane said.
    The window rolled down further, and Jane could now almost
make out the driver.  On the seat next to him, she saw a
money clip with a roll of hundreds in it.
    Jane opened up the door and climbed in, not knowing where
she would end up.

    Jane wasn't much for general conversation; she was a
business woman.  Once or twice, she had seen former "clients"
walking the streets, but she never acknowledged them.
Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly mean, she would
just make eye contact with them and grin.  She never gave up
trade secrets, though.  It was the best thing for repeat
business.

    Finally, the car stopped.  The ride had seemed
particularly long due to the fact that neither party had
spoken the whole ride.
    "I've already paid for a room, number 233.  Meet me there
in five minutes," the man said, and got out of the car.

    Jane waited around in the car for a minute or two, and
then got out and checked her surroundings.  She knew
approximately where she was, but not exactly.  The south side
was not her normal stomping grounds, but she could get
around.  After waiting around a couple more minutes, she made
her way to the room.
    When she opened up the door, the lights were off, and she
could not see the man.
    "Hello?" she called out, but got no answer.
    She continued in the room, shutting the door behind her,
and flipping on the light.  At the exact time she flipped on
the light, Jane found herself flying across the room, her
head leading the way and her 98 pound body following.
    When she landed, she could feel the throbbing of her
cheekbone.  She lay in the corner, her head touching both
walls, and her body spread out before her.  She could see her
adversary by the door, throwing first the deadbolt, and then
the chain.
    "You bitch.  Do you know what you got my brother John
into?" the man half yelled at Jane.  The first part was a
yell, but during the end of his sentence his voice tapered
off, so as not to disturb the guests.
    Jane tried to gather herself together.  She pulled her
purse close to her, and brushed her hair out of her eyes.
    "My brother John is in the slammer because of you and
your mouth ... and now, you're gonna pay.  In more ways than
one," the man said, and then laughed.  It was one of those
hearty laughs that you only hear by bad guys in movies.  Jane
knew she was in trouble.
    "First off, give me all your money, and then we'll work
from there," the man said.
    Jane breathed in like she was going to scream.
    "Scream, and I'll break your neck, I swear to God," the
man said.  Jane believed him.
    Jane reached slowly into her purse.  Good, it's still
there, she thought to herself.  Carefully, she wrapped her
frail fingers around the butt of the pistol grip that John
had once given her.  She pointed the gun at the man while
still in her purse.  Her index finger wrapped itself around
the trigger.
    "God dammit, lemme have it!" the man shouted.
    Blam!  Blam!
    The first bullet hit the man right in the gut, the
second, near the top left of his ribcage.
    "Aaaarrgghhh, you bitch," the man grunted out, while
laying on his side.  Do you realize who all knows you are
with me?  Do you realize ..."
    Jane wasted no time in placing a third bullet into the
man's brain.
    After nimbly retreiving the man's wallet from his pocket,
Jane knew she would have to be quick.  She opened the window
from the second story motel room, and hopped out to the fire
escape.  She could hear the sirens already off in the
distance.  Climbing down the ladder was no easy task in high
heels, but she made it down safely.
    Jane hopped on the bus and sat in the back, alone.  She
went through the wallet, got the money, and shoved the wallet
into the back of the bus seat via a rip.  Ten minutes later,
Jane was in a familar part of town.  She got off the bus, and
headed for home.

    Quietly, she approached the house.  Knowing the terrain
well, she moved the chair from behind the bushes and slid the
window open.  Using the chair to boost herself, she leaped
through the windows and landed directly in her bed.  She
quickly pulled the covers up over her head, to cover up the
clothes she was wearing.  Suddenly, her bedroom door opened
up.
    "Jane, is that you?" a voice called out.
    "Yeah mom, it's me," Jane answered.
    "What was all that noise?" Jane's mom asked.
    "Oh, it was hot, and I opened up the window," Jane said.
    "Oh, well, okay," Jane's mom said.  "Listen, I'm going
out tonight with Phil, so be a good girl and go to sleep,
okay?
    "Phil, which one is he?" Jane asked, sarcastically.
    "Oh, you met him once," her mother answered.  "Now go to
sleep, you've got a big day at school tomorrow.  Good night,
sweet dreams."
    "Good night," Jane answered.
    As soon as the door shut, Jane went to her desk and
flipped her lamp on.  She wanted to count her money, and
plus, she had homework she had to finish before morning.

(c) 1994 Jack Flack/SAZ