by Rea Winters
“Why this way?”
“It was the only way at the time. Hey, I only had a few weeks to make up for damn near twenty years of letting you down. So, I said ‘fuck it,’ you know? If it brought me trouble, I would handle it on my own for once.”
“If…” She snorted, tearing up again.
“That was a part of the deal, I swear. I never wanted you involved.”
“I know. I know that’s why you’re sitting in a concrete box for something you didn’t do and why you’re talking to me with bruises all over your face right now.” A shuddery breath blew past her lips. She wiped away brimming tears. “Are you okay? Have you tried talking to the warden or whoever, getting into some kind of protective custody?”
“Hey, c’mon, I can handle these jokers.”
A curt laugh escaped her. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“It wouldn’t do any good, bear. But listen, I don’t want you to worry about me. Just pack up and leave. Right now. What’re they gonna do, follow you forever?”
“No, I can’t do that. I won’t.”
“Bear—”
“I said no. I’m not gonna let you get beat to death for being an all-the-way decent father for once.” She scoffed and pointed her gaze to the cold graying sky, letting the Ancesti know they really let her down this time. “I wouldn’t even let you get beat to death when I thought you were the worst in the world. And it’s…it’s not just you those creeps have their eyes on. I’m starting a life here, dad. A real life. And I really want to keep it. I have friends – one really good friend – and they’re not gonna treat her any better if they don’t get their money. So, I’m gonna take care of this. I’m gonna do…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Whatever I can do.”
“Amie, no—"
“In the meantime, you don’t do anything stupid. Okay? No fighting, no retaliation, and no more deals.”
“Amie—”
“Talk soon, Papi.” She hung up and took a few more steadying breaths before climbing back on her bike.
✽ ✽ ✽
The Melvin Motel
One step into the reception office earned Amie a grin from the sleaze-weasel behind the counter.
“Hey, you’re back,” Larry Melvin rejoiced. “Same room as before?”
“I’m not here about a room. I’m here about a job. You said something before about having a very legal, lucrative side business that doesn’t go over the line.”
“Oh. Yeah, yeah…” His eyes glossed over as he leaned in and lowered his voice. “You interested?”
“Tell me about it first.”
“I can do better than that.” He opened the divider to the other side of the reception desk. She crossed the threshold and followed him to the stuffy little back office where he pulled up a folder of videos and photos on his computer. Amie’s expression morphed through an array of emotions. Confusion, comprehension, disgust, and then finally settling on weirded out but not altogether scared away. She couldn’t really afford that last part.
“I made the site myself. Pretty good, right?”
“What does it pay?”
“Straight to business, I like that in a woman. How much you get depends on how much the posts make in the first forty-eight to seventy-two hours. An average haul for photos is upwards of a thousand, videos upwards of five.”
Amie looked at the site, then at Larry, then the site again. He was right about one thing. Compared to what was out there, this was a bit under the line, so she decided to consider herself lucky.
“What can I do…” She circled the screen with her finger. “In there that’ll make me fifty-five k in five days?”
He whistled. “Five days? I don’t know about that, but there are some things that pay big in advance. Live action sessions—"
“Live action?”
“Yeah, like with a real audience and…participants. Those take time to pull together, though. People have to place bids, it’s a whole process.”
Amie rolled her eyes. Of course, even a quaint town like Cedamire would have a booming underground perv scene just like anywhere else.
“Okay, let’s stick to solo activities. For now.”
“Uh…oh, there’s also Gorge Play. Longer vids mean a bigger pot at the end of a run and GPs take kind of a toll on the body, so I shell out extra in advance. Cash in hand. One session could get you about half of what you’re looking for.”
Amie sighed through her nose. “Okay. Okay, that’s a start.”
“You ever done anything like this before?”
“You need to see a resume?”
He grinned, his beady eyes squinted as he looked her up and down. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’m just making sure you want to do this. ‘Consent is Sexy’ and all that.”
Amie chewed the inside of her cheek, but nodded firmly. “I’m sure.”
Larry stuck his hand out for an official shake. “Welcome to the Playhouse.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
With Jack Kent nowhere in sight, Caspar was able to relax a little more each time she rounded a corner down a fluorescent hall. Vera shot up from her seat in the waiting area against the wall, beaming with surprise and relief.
“I’m glad you came. I’m so sorry about Jack. I don’t know what he was thinking going back there.”
“He what?” Desmond piped up beside Cas.
“I tried to talk him out of it—"
“But he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Cas finished. “Shocking.”
Vera looked away, feeling low under her intense stare. Caspar looked away and took a short breath, trying to pull herself further from the edge. No one was forcing her to be there, so she would make the conscious effort not to treat Vera otherwise. “Let’s just forget it. What am I doing today?”
“The nurse will call you up soon to begin testing. You’ll get blood drawn and things like that to start.”
“Okay.” Caspar sat on the far end of the second row of seats connected to the wall.
Vera stared at Cas with her lips pressed and eyes dancing as if she was working up to say more. Desmond stepped into her view.
“Mind if we talk over there?”
They went to the end of the hall.
“I just wanted to apologize,” Vera explained. “It’s not lost on me how hard this must be for her. And despite what you both may think, Jack is aware of that, too. He will always hate himself for what he did to Chea. Back then, he wasn’t himself, the man he is now. He had been suffering from an untreated mental disorder. In his right mind, he never would’ve—"
Desmond winced, raising his hand to stop her. “That’s—that’s enough. Just leave Kent out of this. That’s how you got Cas to show up and that’s the only way you’ll get her to stay.”
“I just thought it would be easier for her if she understood that the man she’s helping today isn’t the monster from back then.”
Desmond shook his head. “Listen, if Kent was a new man when you met him and he’s stayed that man, good for you and your family. But to me and especially to that kid over there, at worst, he’ll always be what he did to the woman we loved and lost. At best, he’s nothing to us. Now despite that, Cas is still here to help your son, even though it means doing something that makes the man she has every right to hate very happy. The bastard can’t seem to respect the fact that Caspar doesn’t want to see him, so the least you could do is respect that she doesn’t want to hear about him, either.”
Vera nodded, holding back her tears. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Let’s just focus on Aaron. Alright?”
“Right.”
Desmond took a seat next to Caspar.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Des.”
“I know. It’s good thing I found this.” He passed Caspar a business card from his wallet. “Your mom’s lawyer, Abernathy, she kept Kent away from her and took away any legal claim he would’ve had to you before he got out. I’m sure there’s something she can do for
you. Try giving her a call instead of handling matters yourself next time. I don’t want to come back from this trip with my mom to find you on trial for murder.”
“There won’t be a next time.” But she still pocketed the card, just in case.
Desmond zeroed in on her bruised knuckles. “How bad did you hurt him?”
“I only hit him once. With the ass end of a rifle. He was fine. Enough to drive off anyway. I think he got the picture that whatever he came there for, he wasn’t getting from me.”
Des nodded, hummed. “Then what happened to the hand? Those marks are looking fresher than before.”
Caspar hesitated. “Becker. In the alley behind Lucky Strikes.”
“Kaqua’ne,” he cursed in a sharp whine. “What did we talk about?”
“She punched me first. Pushed me. I only gave her what she asked for. Now we can let it go.”
“What about Amie? First Becker, then Kent, that couldn’t have been an easy thing for her to see.”
A moment of aggravated pause followed the relief she felt knowing Amie hadn’t been there to witness what happened in the alley or the mess with Kent that morning. Though her suspicion that the girl was lying about the reason remained, in this instance, she was glad Amie left when she did.
“She was inside the bowling alley, didn’t see anything.”
“What about when Kent showed up?”
Caspar cleared her throat, fidgeted in the seat. “She wasn’t there. She left with all her things earlier this morning. Left a note saying she’s looking for a place of her own today. Said to wish her luck.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good for her.”
“Yeah.”
Desmond narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re disappointed, aren’t you? It’s not like she could stay in your mom’s art room forever, you know.”
“I know.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Nothing.”
“Spit it out, Caspar, before you get an ulcer.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. We hadn’t gotten around to talking about how long she would stay.”
“Mm, I get it. You were hoping she’d want to stay longer than a week.”
“Felt like something I could get used to, yeah.”
“Well, getting her own place doesn’t mean you’ll never see her again.”
She let out a little sigh. “I know.”
“But?”
“Something about it just…it doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Oh, I think I know what it is. You want to take care of her, but she’s all about taking care of herself and you’ve got zero experience with a woman like that.”
Caspar’s gaze darted to him, then darted away and she shifted in her seat, arms crossing over her chest.
“You like her that much, huh?”
“Wasn’t trying to,” she muttered.
Desmond smirked, nodding his head. “That’s the best kind. You know, you haven’t had someone to take care of in a long time. I think part of you will always take pride in it because of Chea, but I don’t think the young miss Amie is the kind of girl who needs to be…”
“What?”
“Coddled. And if I had to guess, I’d say that’s what you liked about her from the start. So, let her handle her business. Trust me, you’ll see a lot more of her that way. Besides, it’s probably best to focus on yourself right now…considering.” He gestured around.
Caspar swallowed a sigh. If she could just talk to Amie one more time, see her face when she said those words herself… Depending on what she saw, she might be willing to concede that her gut feeling was nothing more than wishful thinking.
“Adami,” the nurse called.
As Desmond gave her an encouraging nod and Vera a wide-eyed hopeful stare, Cas put her own worries on hold and followed the nurse down the hall.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Caspar returned home in the evening with a bag of diner food. She wasn’t in the mood to cook, but she still tried to go about the rest of her day like she used to. Only nothing was like it used to be. Rather than find something to busy herself with in the garage, she lied down on the couch and played a lazy game of fetch with Roadie.
Amie had only been there a handful of days, yet her absence made the space quieter than before she was in it. Cas tried to ignore it – whatever it was that didn’t sit right with her about Amie’s sudden departure – to act as if she believed the girl’s life was none of her business.
“Roads,” she called, then whistled. Instead of bringing the toy back, Roadie ran into the art room with it dangling from his mouth. Caspar followed, finding him curled up on the pillows with his snout tucked under a plushy duck.
“You miss her, too, huh?”
Caspar sat on the bed, pet Roadie with one hand and pulled her phone out with the other.
“It can’t hurt to check in, right?”
Amie’s cellphone rang seven times before going to voicemail. Cas hung up before the beep and called again. This time it went straight to voicemail, making her nervous.
“You know what? That bike could’ve given out on her again and her phone probably just died. I think it’s supposed to rain tonight, too. We should go look for her, right? We can’t let her get caught in the storm.”
Roadie’s ears perked as he tried to decipher her words, but Caspar took it as full agreement.
✽ ✽ ✽
Larry Melvin’s Basement a.k.a. The Playhouse
Amie was dressed chest to pelvis in slightly too tight lingerie with a plastic bunny mask covering her face. Leaned back in a massage chair under the glare of studio lights and a camera, she stuck her bare feet in a store-bought cake on the floor like it was the most exhilarating foot massager in the world. At least, her gyrating body language and the sound bite of cheesy orgasmic moaning crooning from a stereo gave that illusion, while under the mask Amie grimaced and fumed. This was definitely on the ‘more weird than dangerous’ side of the sex work spectrum, but no less degrading.
“Get more icing on your left calf,” Larry directed, shifting around with a smaller camera in his hand, snapping photos. “Yeah, that’s it. Little more. Perfect.”
He stopped the recording and jogged into the dark corner of the room to shut the stereo off.
“Alright, good. Really good start. Now, we need some upper body shots and if you’re feeling up to it…Popping Time,” he rejoiced with a big grin, waving two balloons from a netted off pile in the corner.
“Uck,” Amie groaned under breath, thankful the roll of her eyes couldn’t be seen through the mask. She covered herself with a piece of sheer fabric that somehow passed as a robe.
“How much will this pull in?”
Larry clicked through the photos on his camera. “Counting ad revenue, a percentage of the membership fee, and the new tier toll…mm, three to six thousand easy. The newbie effect, you know. It usually goes down from there and averages to about one to four once you become a regular. Though in your case, between the cool scar and being in ridiculously better shape than most of my usuals, average earnings might not drop as low.”
He jogged back to the stereo and released the vocals of a horny girl trapped in his stereo. Standing in position behind the camera on the tripod, he pressed record. “Alright. Ready for round two?”
Amie sighed, ditched the robe and the sexy bralette, exposing her bare breasts to the frigid basement air, then picked up two handfuls of mushed cake and leaned back.
“Okay,” Larry said. “Let’s make it good, Seda.”
✽ ✽ ✽
It was nighttime now and still no sign of Amie. Caspar had started the search by calling the handful of apartment complexes in town. No one at the desk had met anyone by Amie’s name or description.
Then she looked in the local paper for ads on rooms for rent. There were only three. After the third homeowner also said they’d never seen her, the ladda became anxious. Worse case scenarios cycled through her mind after every missed call.
She wasn’t at The Melvin Motel, but Caspar still drove through that neighborhood, thinking she might be on her way back there. That’s when she finally caught a break, just not the one she was expecting. Amie’s bike was propped up against a house. Larry Melvin’s house.
“What the hell…”
Caspar parked across the street. Roadie tried to climb out of the truck behind her, but Cas made him stay. “One-man job, Roads. I’ll be back. Hopefully with Mommy.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Caspar’s polite knocks on the front door became demanding pounds when the first three went ignored. Larry threw open the door, prepared to curse someone out until he looked up and saw who it was.
“Adami. This is…unexpected.”
“I’m looking for Amie Seda. Is she in there?”
“Uh…”
Caspar leaned against the door frame and pinched the bridge of her nose, quelling her impatience.
“Her bike is in your yard. And I know it’s her bike because I built it.”
“Oh, yeah, that…”
“Either you robbed her or she’s inside. Do you want me to think you robbed her, Larry?”
“She’s upstairs.” Larry quickly side stepped out of Caspar’s way and held the door open for her.
Cas jogged upstairs, looked into the open door of a room where Amie’s clothes and phone sat on the bed. The bed hadn’t been touched; the sheets still neat. She went out into the hall and knocked on the door from where she heard the shower running.
“What?”
“Amie, it’s Caspar.”
“Cas? What’re you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
The door opened and Amie stood there in a bathrobe, squeezing her soaked curls with a towel.
“Well, I asked you first, so there.”
Cas didn’t respond. Just stared with her brows deeply furrowed, trying to read the girl in front of her. Sensing this, Amie let out a nervous laugh. “What? Didn’t you get my note?”
