"Why does your roommate scare you?"

"He's black. I've never been around black guys before." I looked off in the distance at the cars zipping by on the highway, mulling over the consequences of pointing out the obvious. Koko took a pull off her wine bottle.

"… you're black."

She looked at her arm, then back at me, "No shit."

"Well, I…"

She cackled and slapped my shoulder, "I'm playin'. A white family adopted me and my siblings when we were babies. I grew up in Eighty Four. That's WHITE."

"Ohh, I gotcha. How'd you meet your roommate?"

"He works at five guys. He was fuckin my coworker. We're just staying here until we find an apartment."

"So, he's scary?" 

"Well, he's just not what I thought he was. But he knows my type." She shot me a smirk and pulled off her wine bottle again, offering me more chocolate. 

I knew where the conversation was heading, and I was not interested. She was baiting me with candy. I always imagined this scenario happening to me ten years earlier but with a middle-aged guy.

"Lil white guys. You're my new boy toy." 

"Right. Well, I'm going to get something to eat. Do you want to come?" 

"You gonna kidnap me?" Koko winked. The idea of me, a 140-pound guy kidnapping a woman twice my size, made me chuckle.

"I don't think I could if I tried."

We wheeled out of the parking lot, and my car auto-played "The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers.

"You ARE my type." She turned the radio up as we hit the highway. "Where we goin?"

"I was thinking Waffle House."

Koko shot me a disgusted look. 

"You ever had Eat'n Park?"

"Nah, what the hell is Eating Park?"

"Eat'n Park, dummy. Let's go there."

I saw the sign as we crossed the intersection. 

EAT'N PARK

I pulled off into the lot, and we walked into the restaurant. For those too uncultured to know what Eat'n Park is, it's just Perkins with more words. 

We sat in the lobby next to a worn chalk sign, 'pleas wait to be seating.' 

Koko immediately sat down. 

"You like my outfit?"

She had on a faux black denim shirt, with one button buttoned, holding her tits back like a dam created in the 1800s, not fit to withhold the city's current standard. Black short shorts, and worn Asics, topped off nicely with a too-tight lace choker. 

"Yeah, it's nice."

"Thanks. One of my sugar daddies bought it for me today at Walmart."

"You have a sugar daddy?"

"Mhmm. I have a few. I have a thing for older guys. Because of, you know, TRAUMA." She started cackling, "But you're really my type."

"Wait, how old are you?"

"Twenty-one. Your mom ever make you sit in a cold shower with your clothes on and make you think about what you did wrong?"

"Can't say that happened. Jesus. I'm sorry. Did that happen to you?"

"Yep, but that wasn't even the worst."

This conversation was getting into murky waters, and I was drowning. I wandered into the dining area, looking for a hostess to seat us, looking for some kind of lifeline. No luck. 

"Sit down. You're making me nervous."

Nervous? I'm terrified. I kept thinking of her 'scary' roommate we were inevitably going to return to. 

"So, will your roommate be mad you're with me?" I sat down across from Koko.

"Probably. He doesn't like white people," she said matter-of-factly, "but he knows my type."

I exhaled sharply at the thought of getting my shit kicked at the Rodeway Inn by Koko's scary roommate. That would make sense with how this trip has been going. 

Finally, out came a cook, "ya'll don't think you're eating here, right?"

"We were hoping to?" I responded.

"Nah, we're closing. I'm the only cook, and I'm done tonight." He ushered us back into the parking lot. 

"Waffle House it is, then." Koko cackled again.

"Yep," I said, defeated. Realizing this was entirely out of my hands at this point.

We got back in the car. 

"So, these sugar daddies, how'd you meet them?"

"Ones a trucker. He's gross, but he sends me money when we're done. The other…" she pauses and laughs to herself. "Oh, my god. The other one was my UBER DRIVER. He's Lithuanian or somethin. He gives me rides and money. He's really not that bad. I'm a good Catholic girl! I'm not used to this life."

 She went down a list of men much older than her who pay her in clothes from Walmart or cash. I started to piece together. Whether she knew it or not, Koko was a prostitute. 

We pulled up to Waffle House, and at this point, I didn't really feel like eating anymore. 

"My new boy toooooy!" Koko said, snapping a picture of me as we walked in. 

I shrugged this off and opened the door. 

"What's your snap? I'll send you pictures of my titties when I get drunk."

This was not a selling point, but I knew she wouldn't take no for an answer, so I passed her my phone, and she added herself.

The staff was all sitting and eating at the end of the bar.

"Ya'll tryna eat??" One of the waitresses shouted out between bites. 

"Yeah…" I looked around for a sign we might've missed saying they were closed, too.

"Imma just finish up eating. Sit anywhere."

I scanned the empty restaurant and started climbing into the bar seating.

"Booth. I like booths." Koko sat at an adjacent booth. 

I got up and sat across from her and read the menu.

"So. How long have you been at the Rodeway Inn?"

"Shit. Like a month? I applied for section 8, but that credit check is a biiitch. Tell me how I'm supposed to have credit. I'm 21!"

The idea you need a credit score for even Section 8 housing seemed insane to me. Isn't that for people trying to get on their feet? Crazy to think Koko's sugar daddy income wasn't gonna cut it. 

"Why the Rodeway?"

"Well, like I said, my coworker was fuckin on my roommate, and he needed a place. He's from Jersey, I guess."

"You don't know? What's he doing here?"

"I don't know! He doesn't tell me shit. That's why I'm scared of him."

"Well. Has he ever done anything scary?"

"One time, when his brother got shot, he started throwing shit and breaking stuff in the hotel. He was drunk, though."

The image of this solidified the fact that I did not want to meet this fucker. His relation to Koko still seemed like a mystery to me, and to be honest, I'm not sure she understood it either. 

At this point, the lip-pierced waitress came over, "Sorry y'all. What can I get you?"

"I LOVE your hair." Koko gushed at the woman's jet-black hair, streaked with purple.

"Girl, thank you. I did it myself. I'm blonde naturally, but I hate blondes." 

I chuckled at that revelation. She and Koko discussed hair colors while I eyed the menu.

"Ya'll know what you want?"

"Hmm... I'm on a diet. I'll do the patty melt." Koko said.

"Cheese?"

"Yes."

"Bacon on there? Extra two bucks."

"Ohhh," Koko squealed, "yes, please."

"And you?"

I ordered the same thing I got the night before. "The All-Star Special." Two eggs over hard, city ham, buttered grits, and a waffle. The woman shouted the order out. The cook shouted the order back, reiterating it as he cracked two eggs on the flat-top grill.

The waitress hung around. 

"Where ya'll from?"

"I'm from here."

"I'm just in town for some shows."

As it came out of my mouth, I watched the words leave with regret. I typically don't mention to strangers I'm a comedian. 

"Shows?"

"Yeahh. I'm a comedian." I looked up and smiled. 

"Shut up! I never would've guessed. You're SO quiet. Barb!" She shouted over to the elderly waitress, still eating her food.

"What?" Barb responded, sounding annoyed.

"He's a comedian. Never would've guessed. He's so quiet, ain't he. You never would guess."

Barb wandered up to get a better look at me. Her glasses slipped to the end of her nose as she scanned my face.

"Never would've guessed." She let out a smoker's wheeze of a laugh, pulled a cigarette out of her apron, and wandered into the back room.

The waitress asked, "How'd ya'll meet?"

"At the Rodeway. He's my neighbor. Scared lil boy."

Something about a 21-year-old calling me a scared little boy cut me deeper than I ever imagined it would. 

"The Rodeway??" The waitress's eyes bulged and darted between me and Koko.

"They found a dead body in the tub there, like, two weeks ago!"

"Shut the fuck up," I said egregiously. Koko had been at the Rodeway a month and didn't think to mention the body in the tub.

"I swear to gawd. That place is tr-A-sh. And guess what?"

"What??" I'm now more invested in this story than I was in Koko's scary roommate.

"Housekeeping didn't even find it. The next person checking in did. So what's that tell you." The waitress folded her arms and looked down at me as if she'd just cracked the biggest case Washington, Pennsylvania, had yet to realize- the Rodeway doesn't clean their rooms. I could've guessed that based on the booger stuck to the shower wall. 

In a shocking pivot, the waitress said, "I still can't believe you're a comedian." She pitched a cigarette in her mouth and made her way toward where Barb was lingering.  

I looked, speechless, at Koko, who was now rifling around in her bra.

"I SWEAR. My titties are too big." She pulled out a package of Hubba Bubba gum, "gum?"

"Nah, I'm good." 

"Here," she slid a piece across to me, "I wanna treat my boy toy."

I stared at the somehow sweaty gum and palmed it, putting it in my hoodie pocket.

"Was that stuff about your mom true?"

"Oh yeah. That's why I'm at the Rodeway. It's my first place. She started taking all the money I made at Sam's Club and wouldn't let me have a phone."

"You work at Sam's Club?"

"Yeah, why?"

"What's the return policy on electronics?" I wanted to make sure I could return that fuckin karaoke machine tomorrow.

"90 days. Why?"

"Are you working tomorrow?"

"Yeah. At 8:45. I make their juice."

"I can take you to work tomorrow. I gotta return some stuff."

"For real?? I usually get a ride from my sugar daddy."

I felt a tinge of pity for Koko. Companionship for a ride to Sam's Club to make the juice? "Yeah, for sure. I've got to go there anyway. It'll give me a reason to wake up tomorrow."

Koko shrieked with joy, "We can get breakfast before. We'll come back."

Once again, my attempt at being nice took the form of a shovel to dig myself a deeper hole.

"Yeah, totally."

The waitress dropped our food off.

Koko dove right in, and I fiddled with my grits.

"You're cute." Koko reiterated.

"Ahh, thanks."

"Just my type. I'm really kinky. Especially when I drink."

I laughed, "I have an STD."

"Oooh. I just had chlamydia. It wasn't that bad. They didn't give you pills?"

"Yeah, I don't really know how I got it. I'm using a cream on it now." All of this is true. The cream worked, and the bumps are gone. I just didn't want Koko to think she had a chance. The admittance of an STD seemed to be my only way out. 

Koko started in again on her meal. Everything about what she told me about her mom was still lingering as I stared at my plate.

"So, like. Your mom. Do you still keep in contact with your siblings?"

She nodded between bites. "Yeah, some. One's in prison. One's still at home. The other is in school. She was the Golden child. Did DECA, and I was never smart enough for that. I'm dyslexic. Eventually, your mom screams at you enough during homeschooling you just admit you're not learning on purpose. Because that's what she wanted to hear."

I looked up from my grits solemnly at Koko as she ate cavalierly. She just said something most people wouldn't even discuss in therapy until later sessions with a stranger she met outside her motel room an hour prior. 

"When did you leave?"

"Like a month ago. After she blocked me. I found out when I tried to wish her a happy Mother's Day." 

At this point, the pit in my stomach made me feel full. 

"My dad and I still talk, though. He'd have left, too. But every time he tried to leave, I kept calling him, 'Daddy come home. Daddy come home' and he always would because he loves his baby. Probably why I like older men." She laughed with her mouth full. "All I ever wanted was a family of my own. No one leaves, and everyone can just be happy."

I dug into my food, and the waitress came back. 

"You guys are alright. Normally we're just yelling at drunks, right, Barb?" 

Barb just laughed with that same smoker's laugh. I started to think she came with the Waffle House. Just a scrappy elderly woman to cut the tension with a sardonic laugh.

"And they don't think I can fight, those drunks. But I grew up with seven sisters. I can fight."

Koko chimed in, "My sister broke my hip." They shared a laugh. It's been a while since I've heard so many traumatic events discussed with such humor and excitement. It made me miss my hometown and the small-town barstools that took the form of a therapist's couch. I'd been disconnected from there for too long. A town that small doesn't have therapy, and if they do, you're sure as hell not going. You just drink or learn to deal with your shit. They shared more of their stories, and I choked down my 'city ham.' 

Finally, the check came. Koko snatched it, "I'm paying, boy toy."

"Nah, you don't need to." I was bluffing. A free meal would help me significantly, but it didn't feel right to take it from her. Before I could protest any further, she wandered up to the counter and paid. When she came back to the table, she showed me her card. It was a Vanilla credit card. One of those ones you load with funds at Walmart. 

"My manager helped me set this up when my mom started taking all my money."

"Why was your mom taking your money??"

"She's fucking crazy. Didn't want me to leave. Wanted me to be dependent on her. " 

As I finished my meal, Koko went on to tell me her whole story. She was adopted as a baby by a Catholic family. Her mother was extremely abusive and domineering and insisted on homeschooling the kids. Her father tried to leave time and time again but came back every time Koko called him crying. Her mother wouldn't let them have a phone and gave them limited access to the outside world, exposing them to culture only through Christian movies and television. As they grew older, one can imagine a taste of freedom via working at the local Walmart and Sam's Club made the kids go hog wild. One, as she mentioned, wound up in prison. She didn't want to expound on that, it seemed to be the only thing too painful for her to discuss, and I respected that. Koko took the opportunity to leave when she had enough money on her preloaded credit card that her manager helped her set up. This completely severed ties with her mom and is how she wound up at the Rodeway Inn, up the road from Sam's Club, staying with her scary roommate. Despite the sureness in her voice, Koko was lost, and as our night at the Waffle House drug on, I felt for her as she expounded on every detail. 

After she told me her story, there was a long pause. I couldn't say anything more than, "Jesus. I'm sorry."

On our way out of the Waffle House, Koko announced we'd be back for breakfast. 

The lip-pierced waitress said, "I leave at 7, but…" she paused, thinking, "Who's working tomorrow? Oh, one's a bitch. Ask for Shelby! I'll tell her y'all are coming in." 

With that, we climbed into my car and headed back for the Rodeway. 

"Are you really going to take me to work tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course. If we're getting breakfast, though, I better go to bed when we get back." 

She sighed, "You can't hang out anymore?"

"Is your roommate going to be up?"

"I don't know. He kinda does what he wants. He's 30, and his boys are, like, 18. They stay out late."

The dude got worse with every fact she revealed about him. 

"Yeah, I really should go to bed."

There was silence as The Gambler played. 

"You're really nice."

I turned to her and smiled tiredly, "Yeah? I try to be."

"You're the nicest guy I've ever met."

The words sat in the air. I had no idea how to respond, as we'd only spoken for about an hour and a half up to now. 

We pulled up to the Rodeway, and the Mexicans were all outside now, drinking. 

"They scare me. They always watch me when I'm out." Koko's eyes followed them as I parked. 

I climbed out of the car and headed toward the door. 

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow," I said.

"Do you still want to get breakfast?"

It was 12:45 at this point, and I really didn't see myself waking up on time, but Koko struck me as the kinda girl who's had a promise or two broken in her day.

"Of course. Goodnight, Koko." 

I lifted the door handle up and barricaded myself in my room until morning.

At 7:20, there was a sharp rap on the door. I woke up dazed, checking my phone. Three missed calls from Koko.

Fuck. Why'd I promise breakfast?

I came out she was standing in the rain, dressed much more modestly for her juicing shift at Sam's Club. A white polo tucked into skin-tight blue jeans. Starkly different than last night, I didn't see a sheltered girl trying too hard to stand out. I saw a 21-year-old in her work attire. Her hair pulled tightly back, with black-rimmed glasses, she looked innocent. 

We got to the Waffle House, and Shelby greeted us with a smile. "She told me ya'll would be coming in. You're the comedian!"

I nodded, in no mood, but I knew it was my fault and my fault alone; I'd only slept four hours the night before. So I played along. 

Shelby asked all sorts of comedy questions while we ate, and when she brought the check, I paid this time. 

When we got to Sam's Club, I pulled the karaoke system out of my car in the pouring rain. As we walked in, Koko turned to me, "Are you ever going to come back here?"

I didn't have the heart to say no. 

"I'm sure at some point. I go wherever they send me." I didn't want to lie, but I also didn't want to let her down. As I walked toward the return desk, she stood next to me. I returned to the karaoke system and walked back toward the doors.

"Well," I said, Koko's shoulders drooped in disappointment, "good luck with the roommate and everything. It was really nice meeting you."

I hugged her as she stood there, deflated. "Please come back someday."

"I'll try. Have a good day at work."

I watched her walk toward the juice bar as I headed out the sliding doors back into the rain.

She sent me a picture of her titties later that night.