Chapter One: The Beauty of Broken Things

Kelso paused for the shot, because it was perfect. It was not the bridge over the river, cloaked in a rolling autumn fog, and it was not the distant, hazy forms of the buildings, gray against a grayer morning sky. It was not the dark waters of the river itself, lapping along endlessly in their dance, or even the fog-cloaked hulk of the East River Ferry, in the distance that made the image.

The perfection of the shot was the girl and the dog. The moment when the sunlight of the late fall broke through the gray clouds to illuminate her, a single ray, on the form of the girl. The one ray of light hit her sidelong, at just the angle to cast her shadow long across the broken concrete as she looked out on the water. It was what the image said of the universe, the shadow and the girl's gaze, for just that moment, perfect companions, sympathetic.

The shadow stretched long and away, even as the girl looked out across the water, long and away, lost in whatever contemplation a girl accompanied by a three-legged mutt contemplated on such a morning. Kelso captured the shadow and the light, the dog on its two good hind legs, likewise observing the stretch of the waters and the distant towers. He captured the profile of the girl, an almost palpable look of sadness and longing in her dark eyes. It was perfect.

Kelso knew from long experience that the perfect shot, truly perfect, rarely came by chance. There were good shots, even great shots, but the perfect shot happened often by design rather than happenstance. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been presented with it at just the moment when his camera was at the ready, and the undeniable feeling of rightness at those moments was one that he thought was akin to glimpsing the inner workings of the universe itself.

An image was a suspended moment of infinity, something unique, that in all the wheeling billions of years that composed the past, present, and future, would never happen again. When he was able to capture it, to freeze it, to pass that moment on to the rest of humanity, that was when he felt purpose most of all.

That perfect second passed. The clouds moved again, drifting lazy through the sky, unconcerned for the goings on far below. The single ray was swallowed up, vanished, the colorful form of the girl muted with its passing, and Kelso felt the entire world was just a bit sadder for it. The girl turned at the click of the shutter, the dog swiveling with her. For a moment she looked across at him, standing in his trench coat, camera in his hand.

All the loneliness of an unkind and uncaring reality informed her person, wrapped as tightly about her as the dingy and ripped red puffer coat she wore against the chill. She flipped him the bird and scampered away in the opposite direction with the mangy little dog hopping along behind.

Kelso sighed and watched her round a bend, disappearing into the fog as though she'd been a dream. He had his moment, though. Content with that, he strolled on himself, thinking about the girl, the dog, building his imagined story of her circumstance in the bigger tapestry of things. The cogs of his imagination turned, placing her and her companion among all the rest of the bits that floated along in the sea of time, two broken things, just like all the rest, but no less beautiful for their flaws.

Chapter Two: Underthing

Tessa liked the river for many reasons, only one of which was the smell. The river didn't smell dirty, like most of the city, and it certainly didn't smell as bad as the Underthing. There'd been a time that the hot, wet, cloying scent of the place had repulsed her, but that had been long ago. She'd gotten used to the smell, though, and now it didn't reek of disgusting things so much as it did of home. Because it was.

The way into the Underthing wasn't an easy one. Combined with the smell it was a deterrent to everyone else but the waif of a girl, who could lift the broken edge of the mesh covering the pipe and wiggle inside. One of her lucky finds, a little pen light, lit her way through the twists and turns of the place, until she emerged into a small pocket of warmth. Gathered about the place were the collected bits of a street girl, those tiny treasures that she'd happened upon and found value in.

A sleeping bag with a tear in the side, mended with a strip of duct tape. This, not so much a treasure as a necessity. A bucket with a broken handle, again a necessity for her necessaries, but easy to carry, dump, and wash under the leaking pipe just two turns and one bend away from her refuge. The real treasures were safe in a small, wooden chest that was missing one handle and a hinge, but still closed nicely to keep the damp out. It hadn't been an easy thing to force it through the mesh grate, but Tessa refused to let it go. She'd managed it.

Inside the chest was a backpack, canvas and army green, with a drawstring closure. Inside the bag she kept spare clothes, half of the package of batteries for the pen light, and The Gift. The Gift was the most precious thing of all, a thing she'd earned on a chance errand from Alan, the old guy at Tales & Treasures, who despite being blind seemed to have read every book that had ever been written, half of which he sold in his shop. It was the cover that had drawn Tessa to it initially, but she'd since come to love the story, too.

On the cover of The Gift were raised letters, stylized, and a faded image of a girl in a yellow gown dancing with a monster of a man. The book was called Beauty and the Beast and Tessa was hardly without it. The story told of a wealthy merchant who fell on hard times. One of his three daughters, named Beauty, is a lover of books, kind and sweet. She is a contrast to her sisters. Through further misfortunes, Beauty finds herself in the castle of a frightening beast, who she learns to love for his inner self, rather than his monstrous appearance. Beauty is able to break the curse on the Beast and they live in happiness.

Tessa did not imagine herself as Beauty when she read the story. Rather, she imagined one day meeting someone else that understood what it was to have scars, to have someone that saw that the scars were not her. She took out The Gift and prepared to settle down on the sleeping bag to read it once again, but today she stopped. Today, she decided, she wouldn't read the book in the darkness by the little light of the penlight. Today she'd cross the bridge and read the book in the daylight.

***

Chapter Three: Park Trouble

City Hall Park in the late morning was one of Tessa's favorite spots to stop. She liked to sit on the edge of the fountain, something about the hiss of its waters strangely out of place in the little pocket of nature amongst the concrete. The vibrant greenspace between Broadway and Park Row could draw a lunchtime crowd, but at this hour it was not quite there. A few people passed by as she sat on the fountain, paying her little mind. Not much of anyone paid mind to another dirty girl.

Pickles gave a hungry bark as he sat back on his two good legs, looking up at her expectantly. Tessa rooted through the backpack for the small bag of treats, another recent, lucky find, eyed how many were left, then tossed one to the dog. He caught it and wolfed it down, then looked for another.

"No more. We need to save them," Tessa said and tucked the bag away.

Pickles whined, but lay down by the fountain, while Tessa pulled the book from the bag. No matter where she stopped in the book, she always started from the beginning. She could recite each page from memory, but a story should always unfold from its root, she thought, or it just kind of lost something. The magic was in the telling and the telling started on the first page.

The fountain hissed and Tessa read, legs folded, her head down. Pickles sniffed about the ground for something to eat, occasionally pausing to give a passerby a pleading look, though no further treats were forthcoming. The minutes passed as did the people, the numbers of them slowly increasing as Tessa turned the pages.

A shadow fell over the book, breaking the spell, and when Tessa looked up she froze. The boy had a gap in his teeth, below a crooked nose that Tessa was sure had been broken at some point. He wore a faded Yankees cap and his remaining teeth were yellowed from smoking, as he was now. Behind him stood another boy. Pickles hobbled back toward her, growling.

"Whatcha got for me today, Stinky?" the boy said, flipping his cigarette butt away.

His friend kicked at Pickles, who danced away nimbly on his three legs and continued to growl. Tessa snapped the book shut and grabbed her bag.

"Nothing," she said, quickly, "I don't have anything. You know I don't."

She leapt from the fountain and made to run, but the gap-toothed boy snagged the book from her and looked at it.

"This is something," he said.

"Give it back!" Tessa cried, reaching for the book, but he gave her a swat across the cheek and watched her reel back, stunned.

"Fuckin' junk. All you ever got is junk," he said, and casually tossed the book into the fountain.

"No!" Tessa shrieked in horror, nearly throwing herself into the fountain after it, but the boy grabbed the backpack attached to her shoulder and yanked her back.

The backpack came free as she fell to the ground, and then Pickles barked and made a dive for the leg of the boy's companion. He kicked at the dog, who leapt back, lunged again, and then the two of them began a frustrating dance as the gap-toothed bully dumped the contents of the backpack on the grass. He kicked at them, saw nothing of interest, and then tossed the empty canvas sack into the fountain as well. He turned his ire on the sobbing Tessa and pulled back a leg, preparing for a kick.

"Hey! Fuck off!" came a shout from just behind, and a man in a trench coat came rushing forward.

The gap-toothed boy wheeled on the man saying, "This ain't your concern, old man. Fuck off yerself."

The man stopped, opened his coat and showed the boy a holstered pistol. The two boys took off running into the trees, Pickles growling and barking at their retreating forms. Tessa clamored to her feet, tears streaming and looked into the fountain. The book floated in the water, destroyed, a few of the old pages floating lazily around it. The backpack lay half off the edge of the fountain, partially in the water.

Tessa yanked the pack free and began collecting her meager belongings, shoving them into the wet pack. Pickles held the small bag of treats in his mouth, wagging his stubby tail. The man knelt.

"Here, let me help," he said and reached for some of the things.

"No!" Tessa snapped and smacked his hand away from a threadbare, pink sweater.

She snatched it up and wiped at her face with it, then shoved it into the pack. She gave the ground another once over, wiped her nose on the sleeve of the puffer coat, and then turned back to the fountain. The man joined her.

"I'm sorry," he said, "about your book."

The girl didn't say anything as the soaking manuscript curled and sunk into the water. Wordlessly, she shouldered the wet backpack and began to walk away.

"Hey," the man called back, "wait."

Tessa did not wait. The man trailed after her and took up stride next to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, "Did they hurt you?"

The girl shook her head and continued walking with the dog hopping along behind.

"My name's Kelso," he said, putting his hand out as they walked.

Tessa didn't take it.

Seemingly unphased the man continued, "Can I... I don't know... are you hungry? I was about to walk over to Berto's for some lunch. Do you want something? You and the dog?"

"Pickles," she said.

"Pickles? You want pickles?"

"His name is Pickles," the girl said, "And I don't take food from perverts."

"Um, perverts? I didn't think I made that kind of impression," Kelso said, chuckling.

"I saw you this morning," she said, "Taking my picture. Perverts in trench coats take pictures of girls to jerk off to later."

Kelso blinked and said, "Oh. It... it wasn't like that. Sorry. I'm a photographer."

He held up the camera on his neck.

"Yeah," Tessa said, "That takes pictures of girls to jerk off to later."

"Sorry," Kelso said again, "It really wasn't... like that. It was just the scene. Can we... maybe start again?"

Tessa shrugged, paused, picked up a quarter, pocketed it, and resumed walking.

"Really," Kelso continued, "I'd just like to get you some lunch. You don't have to eat with me or anything. Just, you know, let me do something nice. Those guys were real dicks."

Tessa sighed, but it was hard to turn down a free lunch, especially with Pickles carrying the little bag of treats. She could have something to share with the dog later.

"Alright," she agreed, "but no pictures."

Kelso nodded.

"Not Berto's either," she added, "They won't let Pickles in. Harry Lain's?"

Kelso nodded again and they resumed walking, pausing at the crosswalk at Broadway and then hurrying across to continue down Barclay. Passing the Woolworth Building and dodging through people on the street, Kelso tried to make conversation.

"What was the book?" he asked.

Tessa's shoulders slumped and she shook her head saying, "It doesn't matter. It's gone."

"Do you have a name?" Kelso asked.

"Yup."

"Will you tell me your name?" he implored.

"Nope."

Confounded, Kelso stayed quiet as they passed by Thirty Park Place and emerged at the intersection with Church, where they waited again. They crossed and banked down Church to Fulton, then turned again and made for the corner of Greenwich. Here, across from Ground Zero, Kelso pushed open the door of Harry Lain's. The corner cafe was doing good business, and Kelso waited with the girl, saying nothing. The dog, Pickles, went practically unnoticed, sitting on his haunches next to her, sniffing the air hungrily.

The girl ordered freely, apparently taking the offer of lunch to stock up for the winter. Kelso didn't mind. He ordered significantly less for himself and they waited again, then took their food and sat at a high corner table. Pickles sat looking up at the girl, who broke off half of her sandwich and gave it to the dog before beginning to eat. Kelso felt slightly heartened by the gesture. He resisted the urge to take a photo.

Kelso tucked into his own sandwich, surreptitiously eyeing the girl over as they ate in silence. Now that he could see her up close, he was struck by her. When he'd taken her picture he'd noted that she was pretty. You couldn't miss it, even under the streak of dirt, the smell of her coat, and the wear of life on the street. This close, though, she wasn't just pretty. He peeled back the scruff and imagined her with clean hair, taken care of and washed. She could have been downright gorgeous.

The hair was a bit matted and tangled, but it had the full body and natural curls that some women would kill for. Her face was thin, as would be expected from someone who probably ate less in a week than he did in a day. He guessed her no more than nineteen. Her caramel eyes, which flicked up to look back at him, looked almost golden and they were strikingly deep.

"You're perving again," she said around a mouthful.

"No," he said, "Just trying to figure you out. It's kind of a thing I do."

He shrugged.

"You try to figure out what people look like naked?" she asked.

"What? No," he shot back, "I try to figure out their stories. I take photos and I write stories, articles. It's like a mental exercise, trying to piece someone's past together from an image, build their story."

"Whatever. No one gets to see me naked for free," she said with a slight smirk.

Was that humor? Kelso thought he might have pegged her wrong.

"Yeah, me either," he said.

Surprisingly, she laughed, and it was musical. He watched her take the other two wrapped sandwiches and tuck them into her pack, then sling it onto her shoulder as she dismounted the stool. She started to walk away. Kelso choked down what was in his mouth.

"Hey," he said, "Where are you going?"

She didn't turn to reply, only kept walking, reached the door, and walked out, only holding it long enough for the dog to follow. Kelso shook his head.

Chapter Four: Some Work

Tessa knocked on the apartment door in the late afternoon and waited. A moment later it was opened by a woman in a pink tank top, her braless breasts sagging and her honey hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"Hey, kitten," she said kindly, "Ain't seen you in a bit. You looking for some work?"

"Maybe one or two," Tessa said.

"Come on in," the woman said, holding open the door, "I got a couple coming through in a bit."

Tessa stepped inside, Pickles following behind.

"Phew, girl," the woman said, "You definitely need to clean up. Go use the shower and I'll get somethin' for Pickles."

"Thanks," Tessa said.

"Leave that coat, too, and the rest of it. Jesus, but they need a wash."

Tessa blushed and pulled off the coat, then the rest of her clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. She spent some time in the shower, washing away the grime and luxuriating in the heat. She kept it brief, though, knowing Eileen's hot water was limited. She wrapped herself in a towel, wrapped another around her hair, and went back out to the main room. Pickle's lay next to the couch, where Eileen sat watching TV.

She stood up as Tessa came out and took up a robe from the couch, offering it. Tessa took it, dropped the towel as Eileen whistled, and quickly put on the robe. Eileen held up a hairbrush and nodded toward the couch. Tessa sat, agitated her hair with the towel, and then set it aside and allowed the older woman to brush her hair.

"I say it every fuckin' time, honey," the woman said, "You shouldn't be here. I like the company, but you should be on a goddamn magazine, not in some shithole like this."

Tessa just shrugged and allowed Eileen to brush her hair.

"Jake's been asking about you," Eileen said.

"Jake?"

"The one always wears the gray hat. A bit pudgy," Eileen answered.

"Oh."

"Said he'd pay double to have you again."

"Doesn't matter," Tessa said, "I just need a little bit to get something for Pickles. Maybe a better coat, too."

Eileen laughed and said, "Yeah, that piece of shit's about to fall apart. I got one in the closet that Liddy grew out of, but I don't know it'd close over your rack."

"I'll find something," she said.

"Hey, you know you can stay here a bit," Eileen said, "I don't know where you're hole up, but by the smell of those clothes it ain't a fuckin' rose garden."

"I do okay," Tessa said, "Thanks, though."

Eileen shrugged and said, "Sure."

In silence, the woman finished brushing out Tessa's hair and then stood, turning the girl's face this way and that.

"Don't know how you keep that complexion of yours living out there, but if you got some secret I'm keen to hear it," she remarked.

"Nothing special," Tessa said.

Together they sat in silence, until a knock sounded on the door. Eileen rose to answer it.

"That'll be the first one," she said, "His name's Dale. Or Dirk. Something with a D. Whatever."

She opened the door.

"Hey, baby," she said to the man at the door, giving him a hug. Tessa heard the sound of the woman kissing his cheek.

The man was middle-aged, perhaps in his forties, Tessa guessed, bald on top with a ring of hair around his head. He wore a long, black wool coat, which Eileen took off of his shoulders for him. Tessa thought that he looked like a schoolteacher.

"I got something special for you tonight, if you'd rather not have this beat-up old cooch," Eileen said, laughing at her disgusting joke, "This here's Jinxy," she indicated Tessa, who cringed inwardly at the stupid name, "and I promise you're not gonna find any working girl as hot as her."

"Um, hello," the man stammered to Tessa, "You're... very pretty."

"Pretty?" Eileen said, sounding offended, "This girl should be in Playboy."

"Yes, um, yes. Sorry," he said, blushing.

"You wanna let her rock your world, honey?" Eileen asked, "It's just $300."

Tessa could see the want in the man's eyes. He'd come with the expectation of bedding Eileen, but he'd just been presented with a girl half the woman's age and a whole lot easier on the eyes than his usual tumble. He'd probably never imagined getting it on with someone half as sexy as Tessa was, when she'd cleaned up. The familiar hot feeling in her pussy began as the man looked her over, eyeing her like he couldn't believe his luck.

"I'll... yes, I'd like that," he said.

Eileen looked very pleased, as she should. Tessa would do all the work and Eileen would still make just as much as if she'd fucked the man herself. The man counted out money and passed it to Eileen, and then looked expectantly at Tessa. Instinct and old training took over, something in her head clicking into place. The street girl was gone, shoved into a dark place where Tessa kept herself when it was time to fuck.

She flowed toward the man, the long robe swishing and pressed herself against him. One leg crooked behind his and her arms encircled his neck. The man blinked, caught off guard by the sensuality and lust in those dark eyes, an amber twinkle lending a hint of mischief to her crooked smile.

"Will you show me how to please you?" Tessa asked, tossing her hair.

The man gulped, nodded, and Tessa could feel his erection against her leg. She took his hand and led him toward Eileen's room. The woman had already prepped the place for company. The lamps were shaded with red scarves, muting the light, while the bed was well-made and covered in sheets that only looked luxurious. Tessa knew them to be nothing more than clearance from Marshall's, but they looked and felt nice to be fucked on.

Tessa rounded on the man and put her arms around his neck once more, swaying her hips gently against him and planting small kisses on the side of his neck. Her fingers toyed with the ring of hair around his head, and then one veered off to softly touch his earlobe, trail down his neck, and then her other one joined it. She moved them down, listening to the quickening of his breath as her hands found his shirt, tucked into his pants.

She tugged it free and went to work on the buttons, purring softly as she continued pressing her lips to his neck and making him groan. She freed the last button and placed the flat of her palms against his chest, feeling the tension in his muscles. Down his chest she slid them, raking a nail lightly over his belly button, tracing down the happy trail to his belt buckle, which she slipped with practiced ease.

"Is this okay, baby?" she asked, her voice barely a breathy whisper in the dim light of the room, "You can tell me what to do, it's alright. Or you can trust me. Do you want to trust me?"

She felt him nod and that gave her just a little twinge of disappointment, as she always did when she had to lead them, but that was alright. They had something she needed, something just as necessary to her as those little treats were to Pickles. Tessa slid to her knees, trailing her lips down his chest, her breath hot against his trembling skin, her hands easily tugging his boxer briefs along with her descent. His cock sprang up, freed, and he groaned delightedly as Tessa slipped her wet, red lips over its sensitive head.

She felt a jolt of warmth in her pussy when he laid his hand on her head, but he made no move to push her further. He looked down on her and she up at him, her lips around his cock, giving him that submissive look that she knew he'd love, and that she loved to show. The look had been trained into her well and now it was natural. She took him deeper, moaning, herself, as the length of his jerking cock disappeared into her mouth. Her tongue caressed the underside of it lovingly and her hands slid back up his chest.

She worked her mouth down to the base of it, making him gasp as she inhaled him fully, his throbbing crown tickling the back of her throat. There, she held him, massaging his sensitive glans before withdrawing. His grip on her head tightened as she released him and Tessa moaned in response. That was good. That was what she wanted.

He'd felt what it was to have his entire cock lodged in her mouth and throat and his penis didn't want to give that up. He held her in place, guiding her back down his wet shaft as his half-lidded eyes took in the sight of her swallowing his length, her cheeks hollowing, and then she gave a little squeak as he forced the last inch into her. Her body trembled at the dominant display. For several seconds, he held her there, and then he began to pull back.

Slowly, at first, he pumped her mouth, the tight seal of her lips creating a wet channel of pleasure for him to satisfy his cock with. Gradually, he increased his pace, his free hand pushing at the shoulder of her robe. Tessa undid the tie and shrugged it free, giving him the view he wanted of her breasts, while her eyes stayed trained on him.

"Oh my God," he breathed at the sight of her naked body, and his pace quickened.

He groped one of her breasts, kneading it, giving her nipple a little tug that made her pussy gush and her knees tremble. She closed her eyes for just a moment at the wave of pleasure, then opened them again. The man fed her the length of his cock more roughly now, his grip on her head firm, in just the way she most enjoyed. The wet sound of his repetitive mouth fucking and the occasional groan of pleasure, Tessa's own moans, were the only sounds in the room. She knew that Eileen was probably listening at the door, too, but she didn't care.

The man's breath quickened again and Tessa could feel his cock jerking in her mouth, writhing against her tongue like it was alive. He didn't stop. He could have chosen to, but he did not. He was lost to the pleasure of her mouth.

"I'm gonna..." he stammered.

"Mm," Tessa moaned, encouraging him.

He understood and his thrusting became more frantic. He gasped, groaned, and then pushed his cock as deeply as he could get it. Tessa hummed happily as the first jet of cum struck the back of her throat. She flinched back, but he held her, and then the next shot rocketed from his cock down her throat. Tessa gulped, swallowed, moaned, and the man continued to unload his balls into her in short, quivering jerks of orgasmic joy.

When he was spent, he trembled and slowly withdrew his wet cock from the pleasurable sheath of her mouth, releasing his grip on her head and looking down on her with a mix of embarrassment and worship. Tessa pushed a small trail of sperm into her mouth with her finger and sucked on it, showing him a devilish, teasing smile.

"I'm... I'm sorry," he said, "That was... I sort of lost control."

"I loved it," Tessa said, remaining on her knees.

"Thank you," the man said and quickly gathered his clothes. Now that his cock was satisfied, the guilt of paying for it overwhelmed him. He hastily pulled on his pants and began buttoning his shirt, even as he walked out of the room, his cheeks flushed.

Tessa gathered the robe and put it back on, licking her lips and working some life back into her legs. The man was gone by the time she got back to the main room. Pickles gave her a look, wagging his tail furiously, but made no attempt to rise.

"He was a quick one," Eileen said, cackling, "Never blows quite that fast with me."

Something in Tessa's mind slid away, as though swapping out one part for another. She blinked and then blushed, shrugging.

"My bag?" she asked.

Eileen indicated the kitchenette, where Tessa found her pack, hanging over the sink to dry. The clothes were gone, presumably with the others Eileen had taken, but the rest of the contents lay on the countertop. She took her toothbrush, rinsed some grass out of it, then smeared it with a small dollop of the travel-size paste. For a few minutes, she looked at her reflection in the small window above the sink, brushing the taste of cum from her mouth.

***

For nearly an hour, Tessa listened to Eileen's cackling laughter as the older woman soaked in some inane drama that Tessa couldn't connect with. The people in the show lived in a house and they had a family. Tessa, herself, had a family, or rather, she'd had a family. She didn't think about them. The family belonged to the other girl, the one who only came out when it was time to fuck. Now, there existed a wall between them that Tessa didn't allow herself to cross.

So, she looked at the TV without watching it and she listened to Eileen's cackling. Her thoughts were on The Gift, though, sinking beneath the water, the pages curling and breaking apart. The story unfolded in her head, beginning at the first page. She'd reached the merchant's innocent theft of the Beast's rose by the time the next knock came at the door. Eileen rose to answer it. Pickles snored on the floor.

"Evenin' sweetie," Eileen said to the man at the door.

Tessa sat up as the man entered, the voice at the door familiar.

"Hey, Eileen," said the man, and when he stepped inside Tessa recognized Kelso.

He stopped when he saw Tessa staring back at him over the couch.

"Oh, hi again," he said, blinking in surprise.

Eileen looked at Tessa, then back to Kelso, asking "You two know each other?"

"We've met," Kelso said, shaking his head, "Three times in one day? What are the fucking odds?"

"See," Tessa said, "Not just a pervert, but a stalker."

Kelso looked at Eileen, blushed, and Eileen laughed.

"This here's my friend, Kelso," Eileen said, "Not what I'd call a pervert. He just takes pictures, and not those kind. Not really."

Kelso chuckled, "Stock photos," he said, "The kind companies use in ads. There's a lot of demand for that kind of thing."

"So you don't... with Eileen?" Tessa asked.

Kelso shrugged and said, "No. Not that I wouldn't," he said to Eileen, "if I were, you know, in the market."

Eileen shut the door and said, "Not all that charming, either. How do you know each other?"

"He took my picture so he could jerk off to it," Tessa said, sinking back down onto the couch.

"Pretty full of yourself, pretty as you are," Eileen said.

Tessa blushed adorably but stayed silent.

"I also chased away some bullies in the park and bought you lunch. You're welcome, by the way," Kelso said, smiling.

Tessa did not offer her thanks.

"I was gonna offer you a second model," Eileen said, "if you wanna pay double tonight, but it don't sound like Tessa wants another picture taken."

"Tessa?" Kelso asked, "Thanks, Eileen."

Tessa fumed.

"Got anything specific?" Eileen asked.

"Just do what you do and I'll stop you if I need anything."

***

It was the oddest thing, Tessa thought, watching Eileen go about cleaning the apartment, watching TV, doing dishes. All the while, Kelso took photo after photo of the woman. Occasionally, he would stop her, have her repeat some action, give her a small instruction, and then she'd go about her business. Kelso snapped pictures of her unmaking the bed, making the bed, opening drawers, closing drawers, looking at clothes, even lying on the bed with Pickles.

The dog seemed particularly happy with the bed, grumbling when he was put back on the floor. Kelso took even more pictures of the dog and of Eileen with the dog in the main room, on the couch, on the floor. This went on for over an hour and then Kelso paid the woman $300 for the photos. Finally, he made to leave, looked as though he might say something more to Tessa, but then shut his mouth.

"That's it?" Tessa asked, suddenly.

"What's it?" Eileen asked.

"I mean, that's it? He just takes his pictures and... that's it?"

"Well, that's sort of how it works," Kelso said, shrugging.

"You're weird," she said.

Kelso raised his brows, chuckled, then said, "I suppose I am. Thanks."

"You sure you don't wanna do it?" Eileen asked.

Tessa dithered, then shook her head.

"I'm tapped out tonight, anyway," Kelso said, sadly, then brightened, "Hey! If you change your mind, I'm going out shooting tomorrow. I'll be back by the bridge in the morning. If you'd like to make some extra cash, I'd love to do some shots around Manhattan with a model."

"I'm not a model," Tessa said.

"No reason you couldn't be," he said, shrugging, "Eileen was a model tonight."

The older woman blushed at the praise.

"Anyway, I get started about 9:00," he said, "I hope I'll see you. Night Eileen."

"Night, Kelso," Eileen said and showed him out.

The older woman returned to the couch and sat down.

"You're really gonna say no to that?" she asked.

"I don't like pictures," Tessa said.

"You don't like living in a fucking... wherever it is that you stay. Somewhere that smells like shit. You do it anyway, though, don't you?"

"Maybe I do like it," Tessa argued.

"Yeah, well, if I had my choice between taking fancy pictures around Manhattan or giving pussy to strange men, I know what I'd pick," Eileen grumbled.

"I should go," Tessa said, "Can I have my clothes."

"Just stay here for the night, girl," Eileen said, "They ain't dried. I got 'em hanging over the tub. 'Sides, it's getting dark and cold. You really want this gimp mutt of yours to have to hoof it back out on the street? If you won't do it for yerself, do it for Pickles."

The dog looked up at the sound of his name, but when no treats were forthcoming he grumbled and lay back down. Tessa relented. Pickles did look very comfortable and she had to admit that hiking back across the bridge in the dark, then fumbling with a broken mesh grate, holding the penlight between her teeth, did not sound like a more appealing proposition.

"Alright," she said, "just for tonight."

Eileen raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks," Tessa added.

"Was that so hard?"

***

Chapter Five: Scars

Kelso snapped a few shots of boats on the river, but they were uninspired. Nothing special there. He waited by the bridge, glancing up seemingly every few seconds, but there was no sign of Tessa. At 10:00 he started the hour-long walk back across the bridge. On the approach to Manhattan, a red dot materialized in the distance, getting closer as their paths intersected. Tessa stopped in front of him, Pickles at her heels. She didn't say anything.

"Um, morning," Kelso said for the both of them, "So, did you decide to come out on some photos with me?"

"I don't like pictures," she said, then looked down at the dog, "But I want to get a coat for Pickles. It's getting cold. What do I have to do?"

"To get a coat for Pickles? Nothing. I'll go get you both a coat," Kelso said, "But if you will let me take your picture, wherever I think is the right place, I'll give you $50 for each one."

"You already took one," Tessa said.

Kelso nodded, prepared for that, and handed her $50. She blinked and pocketed the money.

"There's a catch," he added.

Tessa grimaced and said, "I told you, I don't get naked for free."

Kelso shook his head, amused, and said, "The deal is that you have to let me buy you a coat first. Pickles, too."

Tessa seemed to think about this for much longer than was necessary and Kelso wondered, again, what the hesitancy was around accepting a little help. The girl was clearly down on her luck, so why the resistance to a bit of a handout when it was offered? Rather than asking, he waited.

"Alright," she agreed.

They walked the rest of the bridge, dodging the occasional jogger or other pedestrian.

"Do you live with Eileen?" Kelso asked, making conversation.

Tessa shook her head.

"Do you live around here?"

Tessa nodded.

"You like books?" he asked.

Tessa shrugged infuriatingly.

"Let's stop here," he said, "Stand just over there."

He indicated the entrance to the staircase leading downward. Tessa stood next to the staircase.

"Turn to the side and look off the bridge, over the river," he instructed.

Tessa turned and looked out across the water. Pickles joined her, snuffling at the air. Kelso snapped the photo, capturing the moment. They downed the steps, Tessa carrying the dog, and emerged onto the street. Kelso led them along, pausing once to snap a picture of Tessa, holding Pickles, in front of a sign reading, "I Love New York!"

They followed Park Row onto Broadway, where Kelso stopped at Urban Outfitters and opened the door for Tessa. She paused and looked down at Pickles, who cocked his head.

"Stay," she commanded.

The dog took up position by the door, wagging his tail. She gave him an apologetic glance and walked inside. Tessa looked intimidated by the racks and shelves filled with clothes. Perhaps, he thought, intimidated wasn't quite it. She was terrified.

"Hey," he said, "Don't worry. Just look and find anything you like, alright?"

"I don't know," she said, looking in every direction, with no idea where to start.

"You need a coat. Pickles needs a coat. Come on."

He offered her his hand, which she looked at mistrustfully for a few seconds, and then he was genuinely surprised when she took it. It was cold and clammy, and not just because of the autumn chill. Kelso led her back toward a section of outerwear and released her hand.

"Whatever suits you," he said, then stood back to wait.

He watched her reach for a puffer coat, much nicer than the old and torn thing she was wearing, but she paused, hand outstretched and looked around. Kelso frowned. It was like she was waiting for someone to stop her, or tell her to get out, that this place wasn't for her. She looked at him, as though for approval.

"Anything you like," he said, nodding.

She took down the coat and felt it, unzipped it, looked inside. She hefted the price tag, then put it back. Kelso watched her move on, removing a black faux leather and shearling jacket. He could see a hint of satisfaction when her fingers brushed the soft lining. Again, she hefted the price tag, blushed, and put the coat back.

"Do you like that one?" Kelso asked.

She looked at the jacket longingly and then shook her head, saying, "These are too much. We should go somewhere else. I don't have enough."

"Tessa, you don't have to pay for it. If you like it, we'll get it. Let me just... help."

She looked at the floor, shuffling her feet, and then nodded.

"Is that your size?" he asked, nodding to the jacket.

"I don't know."

"Try it on," he said.

"I can... they'll let me do that?" she asked.

He nodded and took the coat back down.

"Give me yours," he said, holding out his other hand.

Tessa unzipped the old puffer and shrugged it off, handed it over, and took the new jacket. She donned it, and as she turned, Kelso caught a brief glimpse of her back. Through the holes of the threadbare shirt that she wore he saw crisscrossed scars in the skin. Another ran in a thin line about her throat. Then the jacket covered her. She closed it, closed her eyes, and shivered. He saw what he guessed passed for a smile flit across her face and she turned toward a wall mirror. He watched her watch herself, turning this way and that, looking at the jacket. It was a good fit.

"It looks really good," he said, "Is it warm?"

She nodded.

"Do you want to look at another one?"

She shook her head and actually looked afraid that he might take it from her.

"Let's go this way," he said, and nodded toward the Lifestyle section.

Here, they found a few displays of pet gear, ranging from silly costumes to more functional outerwear, sweaters and cute apparel. These Tessa took to eagerly, readily checking them over. She settled on a yellow, quilted fleece jacket with a hood.

"Is this one okay?" she asked, showing him the price tag.

"Of course," Kelso answered.

She looked more excited by the dog jacket than her own.

"Is there anything else you need?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"What about your shoes?" he asked.

Tessa's sneakers were as worn as the rest of her clothes. The sole of the left one was loose, flapping when she walked, and he was pretty sure the right one wasn't far behind. She looked embarrassed by the question.

"Tessa, it's going to get cold. Get some shoes. Some socks for that matter, and maybe a pair of jeans."

Tessa seemed lost.

"Alright," he said, "Follow me."

Kelso led her, first, to the shoes, where he practically had to beg her to try on a pair of sturdy boots. He figured those were the best bet for someone that spent more time than they should outdoors.

"You need something that will last and that won't get your feet soaked when it snows," he said.

He could see by the look on her face, a passing memory of something beyond mere discomfort, that she was in agreement. How many winters on the street had the girl seen?

"These?" she asked, clopping about in a pair of black, water-resistant boots with a good thick sole.

"Those will do," he agreed.

Next, he found her a pack of tees, socks, a pair of thermals, and two pairs of jeans, all of which would fit nicely into the new rugged backpack he encouraged her to get. The backpack had a waterproof lining to keep everything dry. Her recent incident at the fountain still fresh, she didn't fight him on this choice.

Outside the store, Tessa dressed Pickles in the new jacket, the dog happily licking her face as she fumbled his remaining front leg through the jacket. He gave a couple of curious turns in a circle at the unfamiliar garment. He didn't seem to mind though, giving a yip of approval that brought the sort-of-smile to Tessa's lips. The rest of the clothes went into the new backpack, along with the two remaining sandwiches from the previous day's lunch.

Tessa looked forlorn at giving up the old canvas bag, but the moment passed. She was used to seeing things come and go. She left the bag and its contents next to the door.

"Maybe they'll be good for someone else," she said at Kelso's questioning look.

He shook his head, wondering at how someone who had obviously been shown little in the way of compassion could have so much. They broke for lunch, quickly, and Kelso again said nothing when the girl ordered extra and stowed what she could in the pack. They walked on, stopping first in Zuccoti Park.

He posed Tessa in front of a tall flower sculpture, taking one shot of her like a tourist, leaning on the sculpture. He nearly dropped the camera when she gave him a thousand-watt smile that could have melted the heart of the coldest bastard on earth. Framed by the dark curls, the photo was a prize. The second one, she stared up at the top of the sculpture and he captured her in profile with a genuine look of... something. He couldn't say, exactly, but it broke his heart to see it.

At the FDNY Memorial Wall, she looked solemn as she placed her hand on one of the carved faces of the firemen. The words, "those who carry on," seemed to hold a meaning for her that he couldn't decipher, but she wiped a tear from her cheek with the new jacket before moving on. Down Trinity Place they walked, stopping at City Blossoms. Kelso captured the girl bent at the waist, her nose to a bouquet. He bought her a carnation that she tucked into the front pocket of the jacket, and he snapped another photo.

"Sometimes, you just need something else that's living, to tell you that you still are," she commented, fingers caressing the petals.

They made another stop at the Charging Bull, and then again in Battery Park. Further still they went, to Seaglass Carousel, where Kelso captured a moment of real, childlike glee as Tessa rode the carousel, Pickles following along and barking at her. She gave him a wave as she passed by, once, twice. He snapped each moment and preserved it, that look of true wonder on her face something that the world just had to see. Everyone needed a little more of that look, he thought.

They took Greenwich back up to Ground Zero, where he got shots of Tessa and Pickles at each of the pools, before cutting back up to Broadway and stopping for dinner at a sidewalk cafe. As they walked back to the bridge, Kelso stopped and withdrew money from a machine and passed it to Tessa.

"I don't like the idea of you carrying this much cash around," he said, passing her the bills, "are you going to be okay with this?"

Tessa's eyes were wide as she took the money. Twenty photos and she'd made $1,000.

"Yeah. I'm just going to go... home," she said.

He nodded and asked, "Is home somewhere safe?"

She shrugged, saying, "As safe as anywhere."

He frowned.

"Tessa, where is home?" he asked as they walked.

"On the other side of the bridge," she said.

"I was asking... a little more specifically," he said.

"I call it the Underthing," she said, "There's a pipe you go through, and it goes... under things."

Kelso stopped, unsure he'd heard correctly.

"Under things?"

"Yeah. It doesn't smell great, but it's warm," she said, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that she lived, essentially, in a sewer pipe.

It was ludicrous, he thought. The girl should be on a magazine cover.

"Do you need somewhere else to stay?" he asked, hopeful.

"Why? I have a place to stay."

"Look, can I at least walk you back?" he asked, "What if you run into those two pricks again? Or someone worse."

"It wouldn't be the first time," she said, unphazed.

The chill had turned to cold as the day started to fade and Kelso found himself truly worrying about her carrying the money around, crossing the bridge, with nothing but a dog named Pickles. The girl was clearly a survivor, but that didn't make him feel good about it. He continued to walk with her, up the steps as she carried the dog, and then onto the pedestrian walkway. They began the long walk across the bridge in silence, Kelso uneasy.

At the other end, she turned.

"Kelso, thanks," she said.

"Sure thing. If you want to do it again, we can. I'll be honest, Tessa, I would really like you to keep doing this."

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked, bluntly.

Taken aback Kelso could only blink in astonishment. Tessa, though, looked serious.

"What? No!"

She shrugged and said, "When guys at Eileen's give me money, they always want to fuck me."

"Well, I'm not one of those guys," Kelso said staunchly, "Jesus, I'm old enough to be your dad."

Her face turned dark, and she snapped, "Stop it! You're not! You're not like him."

"Whoa! I didn't... I'm sorry. I just... look, I'm just worried about you, that's all. Sorry."

Her fury, wherever it had come from, passed and she deflated.

"I don't have a dad," she said with finality, "and you don't need to worry about me. You don't even know me. Don't jerk off to my pictures."

She picked up Pickles and slung the dog over her shoulder.

"Tessa," he called, and she stopped, looking back over her shoulder.

Kelso trotted forward and passed her a card.

"That's my number and my address. I have a home office. If you need something, anything, come see me. Alright?"

She took the card and slid it into the pocket that held the carnation, nodding once. She left him standing on the bridge, descending the steps into the coming darkness.

***

Tessa set Pickles on the ground, the dog's tongue lolling tiredly. It had been a lot of walking and doing it on three legs had clearly done him in.

"I'm glad you're not big," she said as she glanced around, pulling the penlight from her pocket and clicking it on.

She stuck it between her teeth and knelt at the grate, tugged. It didn't budge. She tried again, harder, but it was stuck. She shined the light at the edge, where for nearly two years there had been a gap that she was able to pry up to gain entry. Instead, she found fresh rivets through the mesh. She tried to force it again, disbelieving, with the same result.

"Fuck," she spat.

And then it began to snow.