by S. E. Law
It’s an honest job, and there’s no shame in doing it. But I know Michael thinks it’s below him. He hates how everyone who works at Waffle House has a nickname, and how his is “Big Mike.” There’s nothing wrong with the name because it’s an accurate description. My dad is six two, and overweight. He’s round, shaped like an egg, and to be honest, sometimes I think he blames his current obesity on Dads and Daughters too. The truckers in the group work out like fanatics, but after Mike was kicked out, he lost the will. He kept piling on pounds, to the point where now he resembles Humpty Dumpty with his big paunch and red-faced, sweaty visage.
But Mike is still my dad. Grimacing, I click on the message. It reads:
Hi honey,
Sweetheart, I just need a moment of your time. I know we haven’t talked much in the last few years, but something very important has come up. Can you come over later tonight?
Love,
Dad
I grimace again as a foul taste floods my mouth again. What does Mike want? Probably money, even though he knows I don’t have it. Although the girls are paid a stipend by the club, it’s not a lot. But Mike probably needs whatever I’ve saved to pay whichever bill is now overdue.
I rummage in the back of my desk drawer and pull out a tin can. There are a few hundred dollars stashed inside, and I pull the bills out, frowning. Then I put them in my wallet, and snap the clasp closed once more. I can spare a few hundred. It’s not going to kill me, even if my cash is hard-earned.
But what am I even thinking? Michael’s been nothing but a headache ever since childhood. He and my mom got divorced when I was three, and I can barely remember Angela. I have a few memories of a soft hand on my cheek, and the sound of tinkling laughter. Maybe a woman with wispy blonde hair, and a gentle smile.
But she was in an accident shortly after the divorce, and passed away. That left me to be raised by Mike alone, and it wasn’t easy. I felt like I was raising him a lot of the time. I had breakfast ready for him when he got up, and always packed his lunches. I reminded him to take his driver’s license with him in the mornings, and started doing all the grocery shopping and meal prep when I was twelve.
Around that time, Mike got into Dads and Daughters, although I didn’t know it at first. He was on the road a lot, leaving me on my own, and the only thing I noticed was that he seemed happier when he came back from long trips. His color was better, his mental health improving, and he was working out a lot even when he was on the road. I was impressed. I thought that he’d taken to his new job, and was doing better when it came to self-care.
So when he told me about the club when I turned eighteen, I was on board right away. I realized that Dads and Daughters had been the cause of his transformation, and I willingly joined. Things were wonderful at first. I was initiated, and Mike was so proud to have his daughter as one of the girls.
But unfortunately, Mike was unable to keep to his good habits. A bit after I joined, his discipline started to crumble. He’s never been good at saving money, and soon, he was spending everything he made on renovations to our house. Even though I was no longer living there, I told him that it was unnecessary to re-shingle the roof of the cottage again. He just shrugged, and told me to shut my mouth.
I think that was the beginning of the end. No one could get through to him, and the money flowed out of his hands like water. Before I knew it, he’d betrayed the club by spilling its secrets to the Mercury-Star, and was booted out on order of the Executive Committee. Thank god, the club was able to quash the story before it went public. I shudder even now, thinking about what could have happened because of my dad’s heinous actions.
But now, Mike has requested to see me. I don’t want to go, but Torrent and Trainor are on a job right now. They should be back tomorrow, and until then, I don’t have much to do. I was going to go to the spa and get my nails done, but given this missive from my dad, I guess my nails can wait.
My lips pressed in a determined line, I leave my room and walk to the parking lot at the edge of the Lodge’s grounds. Sure enough, there’s my rusty Subaru with the peeling silver paint and lopsided windows. She’s old, but she’s still reliable. With a grim smile, I get into the driver’s seat, and begin the long drive into town.
10
Alizeh
The trailer park comes into view, and I sigh. Mike’s spending habits got so out of control that he had to sell our little cottage to pay his debts. I swallow hard. I loved that house, and have many memories of playing happily on the carpet by my bedroom window. But like everything else my dad touches, it’s turned into ash.
The car crunches to a halt before a particularly dilapidated trailer. It’s mounted on cinderblocks, and there are weeds growing everywhere. The windows look rusted shut, and the screen to the outside door is torn and ragged. I feel sad that my dad lives like this, but then again, Mike’s a grown man. There’s nothing I can do given his difficult personality.
I step up and rap sharply on the door.
“Alizeh, is that you?” my dad’s voice calls from inside. “Give me one minute.”
There’s the sound of a loud flush, and then some shuffling footsteps. Oh gross. My dad was just on the toilet. Well, it happens. Sure enough, Mike opens the door still hitching up his pants, and he looks worse for the wear. He’s wearing a wifebeater, and it only highlights how out of shape he is. His huge belly protrudes against the white fabric, and the waistband of his shorts is invisible because it’s hidden beneath that enormous stomach. As usual, he’s sweaty and red-faced, and he pulls me in for a mighty hug. There’s the stench of beer on his breath.
“You don’t have to be at work?” I ask, grimacing a little when I step into the trailer. My dad is a messy guy, but it’s especially bad when you only have two hundred square feet of living space. There are pizza boxes strewn about, as well as empty beer bottles and dirty laundry. A beetle slowly trundles by on the linoleum floor. The place is gross.
“No,” he chortles happily, closing the door. “Sorry about the mess, Ali. You know how it is. I need to find a woman, and then I’ll be living high on the hog.”
I shake my head. I doubt any woman would give him the time of day because what does Mike have to offer? A big fat zero.
I sigh and take out my wallet.
“How much do you need?” comes my flat question.
Mike pretends to look shocked.
“Now, why do you think I’m asking for money?” he says in a fake-outraged voice. “I didn’t call you here to beg for cash.”
I merely shake my head.
“How much?” is my question.
I half expect my dad to ask for all of it, but he actually sits down on the saggy couch and pats the seat next to him. I sit down gingerly, wondering how many diseases are embedded in the sofa cushions. A disgusted shiver runs down my spine.
“Now, Ali,” he says. “Don’t be like that. Don’t look down on your beloved father because I’m not in Dads and Daughters anymore. Yes, I made a mistake and I admit that, okay? But it was a moment of weakness. I needed money, and I decided to talk to that reporter, which was wrong. But she was so sneaky and conniving!”
Of course, he’s trying to blame his actions on someone else, but I’m not hearing it.
“Dad,” I say in a tight voice. “You were ready to sell out the club for money. You did sell out the club. It’s just that the higher-ups at the Lodge found out sooner rather than later, and were able to kill the story.”
Mike sniffles, as if he’s the one who was wronged.
“And who’s fault was that? It’s not like the story was actually going to do anything. Everyone in the community already knows about Dads and Daughters.”
I squint at him.
“Mike, there’s a big difference between suspecting that something exists, and having a witness testify to that fact. You were going on the record! Yes, there are lots of rumors about Dads and Daughters, but that’s just it: they’re rumors, just like there are rumors about how the bogeym
an lives in the old Carroll Mansion, and how the Elk family is the product of inbreeding. They’re just rumors! You were the one who was going to substantiate them.”
Mike turns nasty then.
“Yeah, but I was doing it for you, Alizeh. I was providing for you as a single parent, and I had to do what I had to do,” he snarls. “You’ve never appreciated me. You’re so spoiled, even more so ever since you joined the club. Always with your nose up in the air. Your mother would absolutely hate you, I know.”
I draw back, shocked. How can he even mention Angela during this spat?
“Please don’t talk about my mother that way,” I say in a frigid voice.
But Mike’s on a roll because he knows he’s pushed one of my buttons.
“You know what Angela would say about the life you lead, Ali? She’d be horrified. She’d say that you’re a slut and a whore, pimping out your body to all those truckers every night. She’d say that you’ve been branded by the devil, and that you wear his mark on your forehead. She’d say you’re no daughter of hers anymore; you’re the child of sin and filth.”
I draw back, tears springing to my eyes.
“What?” I ask, jumping up. My knees feel weak and I literally stagger from this verbal assault. “How can you say this? We haven’t even talked for months! You don’t know me.”
Mike has an evil look on his face, and his eyes narrow until they’re nothing more than slits.
“Oh yes, Alizeh. I know you. You’re evil mixed with scum, and even your presence here makes my skin crawl. You need to be fixed.” With that, my dad calls out. “Now! She’s here.”
To my shock and horror, two goons burst out from nowhere. They must have been hiding in the trailer when I came, and they’ve been lying in wait all this time. The two men are huge, and they’re wearing ski masks. They grab my arms and let out low chuckles of laughter.
“Fuck, she’s gorgeous.”
“Yeah, we’ll have a good time retraining her.”
I squeal and twist in their grip, trying to get away.
“Who the fuck are you?” is my scream. “Get your hands off me!”
The goons merely give me a harsh shake, making my head tumble back and forth like a rag doll. Then they stuff a sock into my mouth, muffling my cries.
“Mike, you didn’t tell us your daughter was so beautiful,” Goon One remarks. “She’s got tits on her the size of the Titanic.”
“And that ass,” remarks Goon Two. “Shit, I can’t wait to fuck it.”
Ice cold dread pours down my spine. They’re here to do that to me? My dad sold me out?
Evidently so. The goons produce a dark bag which they throw to Mike, and he unzips it. His face literally lights up with glee when he sees what’s inside. Then with trembling fingers, he reaches in and pulls out a hundred dollar bill. He lifts the crisp Benjamin to his face, inhaling the new-money smell.
“Shit boys,” he says, his voice full of reverence. “You did well. This money is good stuff. You can have her here, if you want,” he says, gesturing to the sad, saggy couch. “You’ve got her tied up and bound right? She won’t make a noise with that gag in her face.”
I can’t believe I’m hearing this. The goons evidently can’t either. They continue dragging me to the door, but then they stop.
“It’s not dark yet,” Goon One growls. “Other people will see us if we go outside now.”
“You’re right,” says Goon Two. “We better take her now, here.”
With that, they toss me to the couch, and throw me down. Clearly, these aren’t intelligent criminals. They’re lowlifes who somehow got their hands on a bag full of money and are willing to pay my dad to enjoy my curves. I struggle up on the seat, making screaming muffled sounds, but Goon One pins me down again.
“Don’t worry, little whore,” he rasps. “You’ll enjoy this, I promise.”
Goon Two chuckles as he whips out some barbed wire, the kind that you use to mend fences with. “This is your type of thing, isn’t it, sweetheart? Your dad told us that you like all sorts of filth, and maybe even some pain. We plan on doing everything to you.”
With that, I let out a blood curling shriek. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m about to be violated in an untold number of cruel ways by these two thugs, and all while my father watches. What’s going to become of me?
11
Trainor
Torrent and I had a job, but we hightailed it and finished early. Somehow, we knew something was wrong. I could feel it in my blood and the minute we delivered the items, we turned around to head back to the Lodge.
It’s something about Alizeh. She wasn’t answering her phone, and she doesn’t usually do that. I even called June, her best friend, but June said she hadn’t heard from her.
“She’s probably fine,” June remarked. “You haven’t talked to her for fifteen hours? That doesn’t sound like very long.”
I didn’t bother to explain.
“Thanks, we’ll catch you later then.”
But when I hung up, Torrent was just as worried as I was.
“Fifteen hours is the equivalent of fifteen years in our world,” he says in an uneasy tone. I nod.
“You’re right. We need to get back to her asap.”
It’s true because Alizeh lives with us now. She still has her old room on the other side of the compound, but for all intents and purposes, she’s taken up residence in our suite. Life is sweet. We share her each night, and find ourselves buried in her sweet holes for hours at a time. What can we say? We love being with her, and adore stretching out her body.
But it’s more than just the physical connection. Torrent and I have been looking for “The One” for a while now. It’s silly because we’re two alpha males. Our beloved should come find us, and not the other way around. Yet, despite the stream of sweet young things we’ve sampled, no one comes close to Alizeh. The beautiful blonde is smart, sassy, sweet and yet so vulnerable too. We love the way she opens up to us, and how she finds the good in difficult situations.
For example, the number of babies at the Lodge has become overwhelming. So many of the girls are giving birth that I swear, the place is becoming a nursery. There are babies at the breakfast table, toddlers running around underfoot during lunch, and a couple guys have even started bringing their kids to the bar while their women take catnaps or get their nails done. It’s insane, and a war was brewing between the guys who wanted to keep the Lodge adult-oriented, and the ones who had growing families.
But Alizeh stepped in smoothly. She suggested that we create a playroom for the children, as well as a dedicated nursery, and even a “quiet space” for the mothers to breastfeed. It’s worked wonders. We no longer have kids underfoot all the time. Instead, the main spaces of the Lodge have returned to normalcy, and dare I say it? It’s sexy to live there again. The hard poundings continue as they always have, even if it’s ultimately going to add to the baby head count.
But we admire Alizeh for her tactful ways, and her gentle demeanor. It seems that sometimes, you don’t need to be a tyrant to get things done. Instead, with her sunny smile and optimistic approach, she’s mediated between two difficult groups and brought harmony back to our home.
So yes, we love being with her. We want to keep her, in fact, and ask her to become ours. We want her to move out of that tiny spinster’s room, and to move permanently into our suite. We want to caress her curves day in and day out, and to have her grow big with our children. Hopefully, that’s what she wants to.
But why hasn’t she picked up her phone for a day now? Torrent and I pull into our parking space at the Lodge and practically bolt inside.
“Where is she?” I pant as we run to our suite. Alizeh is nowhere to be found. Her keys are gone, as are her purse and phone. Where could she be?
I send her a text:
Sweetheart, we’re back. Where are you?
Normally, she would text back something saucy immediately, but this time, my phone stays silent, which
only ramps up our anxiety. Where the fuck is she? Like madmen, we check the various public spaces of the Lodge: the pool, the gym, the sauna, and even the garden out back. No Alizeh. Then, we decide to run by her room. Why not? Torrent and I are clearly in a panic now.
When we get there, it’s clear she was just here. The door is unlocked, which is worrisome, and the items on her desk are scattered about. An accidental touch to her mouse brings her laptop to life, and we see the message from her father. Oh shit. That jackass Mike wants to see her. She must be with him. This is bad news.
Blazing down the highway, we race to the trailer park where Michael Marron lives. To be honest, our feelings towards him are ones of pure disgust. What kind of coward would sell out the club? But we mask them from our sweet love, because he is her father, after all.
Signs direct us to Mike’s trailer, and it looks normal, at least from the outside. It’s old and dilapidated, but that’s not a crime. We get out of our car, and approach with caution. Thank god, there’s not the smell of weed or meth in the air.
But as we approach the trailer, suddenly, we hear it. There are slightly muffled squealing sounds coming from inside, in addition to Mike’s belly laugh.
“All yours,” he says jovially. “Do with her what you like.”
Torrent and I share a look. Her? Is that Alizeh? Within seconds, my friend has literally torn the door off its hinges with his bare hands. When Torrent’s pissed, it shows.
We step inside to a horrifying scene. Two thugs stand over the nude, lush body of Alizeh on her dad’s couch. She’s got a gag in her mouth, and her eyes are wide and rolling with fear. One leg is tied to coffee table, and the other tied to the couch itself. Her sweet thighs tremble, and her big breasts bounce with fear.
