Jim adjusted his coat for the fifth time in the winter air. It was downright freezing outside and he had no choice but to walk into town. The dirt road was frigid under his boots and Jim glanced backward toward where the house was. His uncle Frank had told him to get some groceries in town since their replicator was malfunctioning. Jim had done what he was told, begrudgingly of course since he hated doing what Frank said, and had headed out down the road. It shouldn't take him too long to get the things and back before his shift began.
Then again, prostitutes didn't have a schedule really.
Jim worked at the local tavern and also took money for his. . .talents. For some reason, he was a huge hit with the Starfleet recruits, officers, and locals. Loads of people from every social standing came for his services. All he had to do was go into the tavern and there was some pretty young guy or girl waiting for him at the bar. Taking money for sex never got old either. There was always a different challenge, but sometimes it wasn't an appealing line of work.
He was currently in the funk that said that he didn't really want to be a prostitute anymore. Who could blame him? It was a monotonous job.
Jim could see the lights of the town in front of him. He sighed, cold air billowing in a cloud in front of his face from his breath. His legs were frozen and it was difficult to keep walking down the road. He had been working so hard here lately because his mom was going to marry Frank. She had told him to be on his best behavior during the engagement and the wedding and then the period of time after the wedding. Jim had rolled his eyes and walked out the door to the barn at that. Like Hell he would be a good little boy for the bastard that wanted to take his father's place. Damn Frank, he didn't need anybody screwing around with his mom and posing as his dad. He was twenty-two for Heaven's sake! He knew who was who and what was what. His mom was making a mistake and he wasn't going to stick around much longer to see her go downhill. Somehow he would get out of Iowa and stop being a damn prostitute.
How he would do that, he had no clue.
Minutes later, he went into town and got onto the sidewalk. Jim buried his fists in his pockets, keeping his head low and passed by the tavern. However, before he could completely pass, he heard a voice behind him speak his name.
Jim hesitated, turning back.
Seconds later, he was unconscious on the ground.