The text from a pimp wakes up Jennifer Tucker before her alarm.
She doesn't need the reminder. The 39-year-old starred this May day in her pink appointment book three months ago.
Tucker glances in her closet; smiles as she sees the sparkly white gym shoes she bought just for today.
Shoes make the girl.
And this day makes the woman, she thinks.
She wonders: Who will be out there? Will anyone recognize her? She anxiously twirls her damp ponytail into a spiral.
She picks up her phone and reads the flirty text message from the pimp. He addresses her by her working name, Mercedes. They all do.
Photo: A screenshot of the text message Tucker received from the pimp on May 20, 2017. "Folks" is a slang term for a pimp.
"They are relentless," she says.
Standing in a slouchy purple Washington Huskies t-shirt and gray leggings, she digs through the dresser in her Tacoma Hilltop bedroom, next to a nearly-deflated Mother's Day balloon and a pile full of clean clothes crumbled in a cardboard box.
"I've been in hiding, I guess you could say," she shrugs. "Just in my own protective bubble. I don't even go to King County."
"Actually," she says if reminding herself.
"I need a permission slip to go there."
She's feeling sheepish today. So, she whips around and digs through the rumpled clothes in that cardboard box — finally finding the black hoodie, the one with "RECOVERY" on the back.
This way, no one will notice the matching Mercedes symbols branded on each shoulder, the tattoos that once were her calling card in online escort ads.
Looking at her reflection, Tucker dabs neutral powder on her face and applies mascara to her long lashes.
She drowns herself in Victoria Secret body spray, downs a cup of coffee and exhales before she slams the door behind her.
She squints in the sunlight as she heads out.