by Mj Hendrix
“Are you okay?” He steps closer, reaching a hand up to touch me, doubt clouding his eyes.
“Well, hello, you two. Glad to see you could make it in here today. How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Detective Riggs booms from behind us, and we both start.
Adam straightens, reaching out a hand to the man in a blinding turquoise-and-white tropical shirt.
“I’m fine. Can we make this quick though? Got a headache,” I mumble as they shake hands.
The detective squints at me in the mid-morning light.
“We’ll do our best, okay? I have some questions for you, seeing as you’ve been…working near Tyler Donniver for some time.”
I swallow over a lump as he turns to walk inside. My stomach is cramped, and I think I might get sick. Adam practically force-fed me eggs this morning, but now, I’m afraid I’m going to see a rerun of my hospital breakfast.
We step into the smell of coffee and sweat. The police station in Carbona is an enormous establishment. Our city isn’t known for being filled with law-abiding citizens.
We follow the tropical shirt through the halls, past sad-looking, scantily clad women and rough men with shaved heads in orange jumpsuits.
Adam’s face is tinged a little green as he observes the scene, and his gaze turns to me. He clenches his jaw, reaching for my hand to squeeze it.
We finally reach a little office with a glass door, and my heart plummets as I see Victoria and Lenny both already inside on the dingy fabric chairs. Her face is smug as she sips on a venti Starbucks cup.
Detective Riggs holds open the door, and Adam and I shuffle inside.
“All right, since we’re all here, let’s get to it. Sorry I’m late. I had to do a little homework.”
He makes his way behind the cheap metal desk, taking a seat in the office chair. He looks up at the four of us as he sips on a to-go cup. He smiles, motioning for Adam and me to take the folding chairs that were clearly brought in to seat us.
“So, I guess I’ll start with you, Lenny.” Riggs looks down at his papers. “Are you the agent representing Miss Harley Kain for modeling?”
Lenny nods, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of law enforcement. “Yes, sir.”
“How long have you been representing her?” Riggs asks, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his fingers.
“About three years.” He shifts in his seat. His dark eyes flit over me, then back to the man behind the desk.
“I see, and when did you meet Tyler Donniver?”
He stammers, looking over at Victoria, “Uh, we, uh, we met…a while back.”
“Would your previous meeting happen to have been when you were incarcerated together?”
Riggs’s face gives nothing away, his body still relaxed in the chair. If you saw him through the glass, you’d think he was asking Lenny what his new puppy’s name was.
Lenny’s mouth is agape, beady eyes shifting over me and Victoria.
My foster mother gasps belatedly. “What?! I had no prior knowledge of this, Detective! He lied to me about—”
He cuts her off, “Ms. Kain, I would like to ask you to remain silent until I am finished or I address you.” He smiles, which I’m beginning to realize doesn’t always convey his true thoughts.
He turns back to a sweating Lenny. “How did you end up connecting your client with Donniver?”
Lenny wipes an arm across his brow. “He, uh—he wanted a new model, and I happened to know Victoria and Harley were looking for work.” He uncrosses his legs, sitting up straighter.
Riggs consults the papers again. “Lenny…Garbocia? Garbisha? Am I getting that right?”
“It’s Garbicia,” Lenny offers, squirming a little under the detective’s gaze.
“Okay. So, being Harley’s modeling agent, would you say that you handled the legal aspect of things?”
“Uh, yes—yes, sir. I got the contracts and everything signed by both parties.”
Riggs smiles again. “What about the letter of intent to hire and work permits?”
Lenny’s eyes widen a fraction. “The, uh…what now?” He stammers.
“According to Illinois Child Labor Law, every minor must obtain a letter of intent to hire, take it to their school district, and then obtain a work permit. Did you handle that, or did Ms. Kain?”
“She, uh, she did that part. I just worked out the contract negotiations between the modeling agencies and—”
Victoria interrupts, “That is a blatant lie! He was hired and paid very well to handle all legalities of Harley’s career. If he skimped on things, I had absolutely no knowledge of it.”
Detective Riggs ignores her outburst, focusing on the man shrinking in his chair.
“Just one more question, Mr. Garbicia. For what purpose did you hire a private investigator a little over three months ago?” He cocks his head to the side, studying Lenny.
He doesn’t hesitate to answer this time. “Victoria asked me to find Harley after she ran away.”
He looks over at her, clearly glad to be able to shift some blame. I guess that’s how they found out I’d forged my foster mother’s signature and enrolled at OTU.
Again, Victoria gasps. “I was worried about her! She fled without a word to me about where she was going. I thought she was in danger.”
Her face is flawlessly pinched with concern. She even wipes an invisible tear away with her manicured finger. My eye roll could compete in the tumbling competition at the Olympics.
Riggs nods his head, and I feel a pinch of fear in my gut.
Is he actually buying this?
“Why would you be worried about her if you signed her release form to enroll at Ole Tex?” He holds up the document. Her name is scrawled across the bottom electronically.
I shrink back into my seat.
Victoria’s eyes cut to me, her lips curling cruelly. “I didn’t sign that form. She forged it. She’s a liar. I do my best as a foster parent, harboring orphans and even providing them with lucrative opportunities that could propel them into vibrant futures. In the modeling industry, no less! The competition is fierce, and she fought me tooth and nail the entire way. Ungrateful…” She blows out a breath, steadying herself with her hands on the armrests. “Nevertheless, I will take her back in and do my best to find us a new agent without such a checkered past.”
She begins to rise, but Riggs is smiling again and motioning for her to sit. She complies slowly, eyeing me warily. She thinks I’ve got something to do with this, but I have no idea where it’s going.
“Did you receive financial compensation for your modeling, Harley?” The detective turns to me this time.
I nod. “A little.” I’m losing this. He’s taking her side.
“How much did you receive per month, would you say?”
“Two hundred for a good month.”
His smile drops, and he looks back down at his documents. “You received two hundred dollars per month for the modeling you were doing?” he asks, his face no longer amused as he looks at Victoria and Lenny.
They’re both squirming, attempting to talk over each other.
“She—”
“It was—”
“That’s all I need to hear.” He holds up a hand to stop their rambling. “These are some impressive numbers. I had no idea a teenager could make this kind of money, modeling for tattoo magazines, clothing stores, makeup companies…”
He begins holding up glossy pictures of me. One’s a before and after of a tattoo being covered by foundation. The naughty parts are covered, but I’m clearly naked. I had little stickers over my nipples. Another is of me in a yellow bikini on the cover of Inked Goddess.
I’m mortified that Adam is seeing this. His eyes are wide, surveying the stack of magazines and printouts on the detective’s desk. He swallows, looking over at me with that horrifying expression of pity you never want a guy to wear. I shrink further into the chair, looking down to study the scratched yellow-tinted linoleum.
“Ms. Kain, wer
e you present and did you give consent for each of Harley’s tattoos?”
I sit up a little straighter in my chair, genuinely curious to know Victoria’s answer.
“Why, of course. I would never have allowed her to get something like that done illegally. She actually got to choose each one before it was inked into her skin. She, of course, always took breaks whenever she needed.” She smiles at me through the lie, her face a little pinched.
“Hmm, you must not be aware then, Victoria, that it’s illegal in the state of Illinois for a minor to get a tattoo, even with parental consent.”
Her head snaps back to Detective Riggs, who’s leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk on his face.
She shoots up from the chair. “This is outrageous! I demand to have a lawyer present if I am to be questioned like a criminal!” She turns on her heel to march out, but she’s stopped by the next words.
“That’s fine. The social worker for Harley should be here in about ten minutes. You can call a lawyer, if you please.”
Her back stiffens. An uncomfortable mass begins growing in my stomach.
No. Please don’t make me go to another foster home. Don’t bring in the social worker, who’s a nice older woman with way too much work to do and very little resources.
I start to protest, “I—”
Riggs holds up a hand. Victoria’s face has paled to match her white handbag.
“If you would rather…Harley could continue her education at Ole Tex University, considering you already signed her enrollment paperwork. I’m sure the social worker would be pleased to know she’s seeking higher education at a well-known state school. Not many foster children have the support to do so, especially at seventeen.” His eyes are narrowed on the thin woman, who is glaring daggers at me.
“That’s what I would like to do,” I say, turning my eyes back to the detective.
Victoria is silent for another few seconds, all eyes on her. “I…I guess she should do whatever it is she wants then,” she forces the words out through clenched teeth.
“Excellent. I’m glad to hear both parties have reached an agreement.” Riggs stands, and we all follow suit.
“Harley, I’d like to speak to you alone for a moment.” He smiles at me.
I turn to look at Adam’s blank face. He walks by, squeezing my hand and continuing out the door.
Victoria is frozen, eyes flitting from me to the detective. She finally walks out, and we are alone.
“Harley, do you know about the Emancipation of Minors Act?” His smile is gone, replaced with a concerned crease in his brow.
“I, uh, yes. I’ve heard it’s difficult to get if you…have a habit of breaking the law.” I don’t exactly look the part of a responsible teen, nor does my record show it.
“Well, you’re living on your own and supporting yourself. If you apply, having a friendly ear is always helpful. I happen to play eighteen holes with Judge Matthews every other Sunday.” He winks at me, handing over a stack of pink papers. “You should have no issue with being emancipated six months before your birthday when you’re already in school. After the fact, we can report everything to the social worker, preventing Victoria from housing any more foster kids.”
He walks around the desk, standing in front of me.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” I mumble, gripping the papers.
“You say, ‘See you in a few months for my court date.’ ” He hands me a card with his name and contact information. He’s grinning again. “Also, you can tell Russ he’s a quitter for retiring and going into that easy campus police work.”
36
Adam
“We should get some lunch at the airport,” I say to Harley as we walk out of the police station.
The taxi is pulling up to the curb. I look over at her face, pale and withdrawn.
“Harley?”
She looks up at me, a tear slipping through her lashes.
“What’s wrong?” I reach for her hand, but she’s already moving away.
She shakes her head, stepping toward the cab to open the door. She slides in, and I follow.
“Airport, please,” she tells the driver, staring out her smudged window.
We don’t speak as the car idles in a long line of exhaust and rubber. Her arms are folded over her stomach, and I can’t figure out why she’s closed off from me.
I really think she should see a counselor, but I have no idea how to broach the subject without sounding like I think she’s screwed up.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her, but I am afraid for her, afraid she’ll always feel like she’s only valuable because of what she can offer people—namely, her body.
How can I show her that’s not all I care about?
I reach over, gripping her cold fingers with mine. She doesn’t resist me, but she doesn’t hold them back either.
It’s nearly Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. My grandma makes the best homemade apple pie in the state, and our enormous extended family gets together in the barn for a meal and games. We fry four turkeys, and someone always brings a baked ham. I have enough cousins to populate a small town.
The past few weeks with Harley have been…strained. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder, and I think she expects Victoria to show up and drag her back to Carbona. I’ve said everything I can to reassure her, but she merely nods and doesn’t respond.
I met with a counselor to figure out how I can help her better, but the woman said just to listen and be supportive. I thought about making an appointment for Harley, but I was advised to allow her to make that decision for herself. At this point, I’m just praying constantly.
She won’t talk to me about the age thing either. It doesn’t matter to me, but I am worried that she felt she had to keep lying to me. I get why she did it in the beginning, but does she still not trust me?
“Hey,” I say as I lean over to press a kiss to her jaw.
It’s Monday morning, and we’re sitting back up front in our horticulture class. She’s been staying in her dorm, and I’ve been in mine since we got back from Carbona. I ache to hold her close again, but she’s as distant as ever.
She looks at me as a half-smile ghosts across her lips. Then, she faces back down.
How can I get her smile to be real again? I pull out a fresh notebook sheet.
do you want to come home with me for thanksgiving? :)
She waits a few minutes to respond.
I told Kenna I’d go with her.
My chest feels tight as I debate how to respond.
Are we together? Is she trying to pull away, so I’ll break up with her? I don't know what about our trip caused this sudden change in her.
I can’t imagine how she must feel after everything that happened, but I’m losing my mind, trying to figure out what’s brought on this new dynamic between us.
I miss you already.
She doesn’t reply for over half the class, and my heart sinks further into my stomach with each passing minute.
have fun. I’ll miss you too.
Once again, I’m floored with my lack of experience with dating relationships. Am I being too pushy if I ask her why she doesn’t want to go on dates anymore or come hang out at my dorm?
I’ve offered to take her to the plant nursery, tried to surprise her with breakfast burritos, and even signed us up for a dance class together. She said she’s focusing on her classes and doing her best to keep all As. She picked up more shifts at the bar, but unless I go sit up there in a booth, I don’t see her much at all.
I feel crushed, completely hopeless, and lost. What do you do when the person you’re in love with keeps extending the distance between you?
“Mom, this is phenomenal. How’d you get to be such a great cook?” I ask over a mouthful of sweet potato pie, sprinkled with pecans and cinnamon.
My mother beams at me, patting my shoulder. “Your grandmother taught me, of course. Every young woman should learn how to take care of
a man, starting with his stomach.”
She takes the open seat next to me, the rest of the family already moving on to start on the tradition of board games after the meal. Tomorrow is the big reunion, so today is just the thirteen of us.
“I wanted to tell you, honey, there’s a pretty new face at church. Her name is Michal. She’s the sweetest thing. She’s only sixteen, but she looks older. Her family moved down here from Missouri.”
I still at her words, gripping my fork a little tighter as she continues, “I invited their family to the reunion tomorrow. She’s very sweet but a little shy. I think you’ll like her.”
She pats my shoulder again, and I swallow the tasteless bite in my mouth.
“Uh, well, I don’t know if that’s the best idea. I’m…”
I want to tell her I’m dating Harley, but I actually don’t know if I am at this point. She hasn’t returned any of my texts or calls in four days. After the last few weeks, I’m going insane, trying to figure out what’s going on with her.
“Oh, I know, you’re off at college, but it’s only two hours away. You can easily start visiting home on the weekends and take her to church. Her mother, Abigail, has already said they’d love to see you for dinner this Sunday.”
Her smile is even brighter now as she takes my empty plate to the sink. My father has meandered into the kitchen to hear her last statement.
“That’s wonderful, honey. Michal sure is a sweet girl. You’ll like her, Adam. Her father has been very involved in the church since they moved here.”
I feel bloated with shame as they chat among themselves about the new family with eight kids, another on the way. Michal is the oldest, already primed and ready to start her own journey of eternal reproduction.
“She loves the farm life too. She and Eden have been out at your grandmother’s orchard all week long, picking fresh apples for the pies tomorrow,” my mother continues on as she starts washing dishes.
I get up and excuse myself, saying I want to check on the baby goats that were born before I moved away. My parents don’t say anything, glancing at each other with that silent communication only a concerned husband and wife can interpret.
