The Struggle is Real, but So is Jesus. Tessa
Then her boyfriend came to me. He was running a scam and somehow found a way to make counterfeit social security checks and wanted to put them in my name. I was to cash them and give him half. He had me get a bank account and started printing them in my name. They were a pretty large amount, and I don’t know to this day how I didn’t get busted.
He actually did get caught, and what saved me was that he stole my DL and was renting hotel rooms in my name, unbeknownst to me. A detective eventually contacted me, telling me what he was doing, and I was not aware of that actually, that part anyway. They assumed since he had my DL, that he was putting and cashing the checks in my name and told me his girlfriend used my identity to open an account and wanted to talk to me about what I knew about them and my relationship to him, his name, and whatever else I could tell them.
He, of course, gave me a bogus name, but I described him and his girlfriend and told them that she worked at the club with me but I hadn’t known her well and did not know her real name.
I don’t know if they ever got caught, I had moved by then, and I did not tell them I was cashing the checks. I was not charged. Even if I did tell them, I believe now they would believe he forced me too, which he pretty much did. I was pretty scared to do it. He didn’t threaten me, but I was scared of him.
They would supply me with drugs, enough to get me through a few days, then when they needed me again, I would get more. I guess that was their way of keeping me involved. By that time, they had pretty much moved and wouldn’t come around for days, and I had no idea that they were using my name.
As I’ve said, I wasn’t an innocent girl. My lifestyle of drug use and prostitution at this point, I was very lucky to not get incarcerated. It wasn’t the first time I had committed fraud. I had years before, I forgot to mention, a girl I knew that worked at a gas station across the street from me would give me people’s credit cards that they had lost. She had quite a few. I was surprised they worked and weren’t cancelled. I got away with that too, using them to buy gas and whatever. I also was never busted.
Since I had no relationship with God, I never thought about it all being a sin. I did know it wasn’t right but never thought I’d go to hell for it. I told myself it was the oldest profession in the book. And I knew enough from attending Catholic school about Mary Magdalene and how Jesus forgave her and loved her.
One night, I was at work, and this really hot guy was playing pool, not paying attention to the dancers or spending money on us. That’s what attracted me to him. I would never date a guy that spent money on lap dances. They disgusted me. And I didn’t feel guilty hustling them. I just thought they were dumb, thinking the more money they spent, they could get a girlfriend out of it.
I got the nerve to approach the guy playing pool. The only time I had confidence was when I was dancing because of all the money I made. I asked him if he had a girlfriend. His answer got me hook, line and sinker. He said no but was taking applications. That was the best line I ever heard, and that night, I found myself in bed with him.
I assumed, as always, I’d never hear from him again, but he really liked me, and eventually, I moved in with him and his roommates. We were very compatible; the sex was so good. It might have been from the marijuana. I was always horny when I was stoned. Even though I never really liked the feeling marijuana gave me, I was a real light weight, though, but eventually would get me really paranoid.
What really turned me on about him was the only drugs he did, at that time anyway, was smoke marijuana and he had me quit my job and took care of me. He sold pot and did really well.
We got along really well, and he didn’t see the Hyde side of me for quite a while probably because I was stoned all the time. It seemed to calm me down.
Chapter 16
Like I said, it was pretty great at first. I didn’t work and was just getting stoned and having sex all the time with him, living with him in a house that he rented a room from friends.
Things started getting a little crazy; I don’t even remember how we went from point A to B. But eventually, meth entered my life again, and he was the one dealing it. We lived in weekly hotels for a while. A lot of them, I started dancing again at a club called Baby Dolls, and he would load me up with baggies of meth to sell to the girls at work.
This went on for a while, then the cops came looking for me again. I didn’t know what for, but like anyone, speciously living the life I did was super paranoid. I didn’t have any warrants, but when they showed up at one of our hotel apartments, I hid in the closet. They didn’t ask to come in and search, so it must have not been really serious, and I didn’t have an APD out on me. It most likely had to do with the guy who stole my license and was stealing the social security checks.
I never found out because they never came back, but at first, I was so scared, and the meth didn’t help the paranoia. So he flew me to San Diego to stay with my friend, the one who had the rich drug dealer boyfriend.
They had split up, and she was living at some other guy’s house. Platonically, when her boyfriend broke up with her, he gave her an ounce of coke to sell instead of money to get on her feet.
It was a stupid thing to do to an addict. So long story short, within a week of me being there, we had smoked the whole thing. Things got ugly after that, of course. We were out of drugs and money and got into a huge fight.
She didn’t have a car, and it got so bad. She had this little skater friend take me to the airport to fly back home on the back of his bicycle. And it wasn’t a short distance either.
To this day, I don’t even know how I made it or how they even let me on the plane, I was so wasted. I kinda remember the ride on the back of his bike and stumbling off the plane in Arizona where my boyfriend/soon-to-be second husband picked me up.
We had gotten into a huge fight, I don’t remember why. It might have been because I was sick again of the drugs. It was out of control and possibly being on the brink of catching a felony and prison time.
I left in the middle of the night, just randomly took off. I forgot all my dancer outfits and my ID. When I called him to get them back, I couldn’t get a job with neither. He refused unless I came back; I wouldn’t.
I stayed with a friend who helped me get into an apartment on a ninety-nine-dollar move in, and since I couldn’t work with no identification, I found an ad for escorts in the paper, and that’s where I began my full-time career as a prostitute.
I worked for this girl. She would send me out on calls to hotels. I would get one hundred and fifty per client, and she would get fifty of it.
This was 1990, so back then, it was a lot of money. My friend and I talked about who helped me out a lot and is in a lot of my chapters, was stealing cars at the time, Camaros to be exact, and changing the VIN numbers and selling them.
As far as I know, to this day, he never got caught, and he was around and in my life till about 1995. And he let me borrow one of the cars. We were strictly friends. He helped me out a lot. He knew what I did for a living. I think it boosted his ego, he felt like my pimp or something, I don’t know. He never made money off me but was always there when I was in a bind, I would always pay him back.
Eventually, “the guy” husband two came looking for me, begging me back. He was never abusive or anything, just completely whooped on me. He started showing up with groceries for me, then he brought me a Persian kitten.
And quickly, I was getting brand new furniture (don’t laugh): a canopy waterbed with mirrors on the top. It was the most popular thing then that people wanted. Waterbeds were so in.
He even bought me the stolen Camaro from my friend I was borrowing.
I didn’t know where he was getting the money, I assumed from drug deals. I found out soon enough he was running bank scams.
Back then, all you needed to get a valid ID was have two people go with you to the bank to say they knew who you were if you had no paperwork to prove it and notarize their signatures and you could go to the