Mary Locke eyed me hard from behind the dark green metal desk in the Playland office. “First thing, Toby, is you never blow me off.” 

I shrugged, looking down at her, six feet from the desk. “You have my phone number if you have something important. I was in a hurry. I don’t sit up and beg at the snap of anyone’s fingers.” 

She pursed her lips. “You’re salaried now. Do you understand what that means?” 

“I don’t have to fill out a timecard, which you pretty much ignored anyway.” 

“It’s a promotion, Toby. More responsibility.” 

“I don’t know what my actual job is to start with.” 

“One thing your job is, is to sit up and beg when I snap my fingers.” 

“OK. Nobody told me.” 

“I’m concerned about this Bill thing.” 

“If there’s a Bill thing, I don’t know what it is.” 

“I know he can be weird. I know he’s been out to your house.” 

“It’s his house, not mine. I get the idea for all his charm and money, he’s got no friends, no one to really talk to about stuff other people would think weird, not even Mike, his best friend. I don’t mind being that kind of friend to him – to sit, listen without judgment.” 

More pursing of the lips. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” 

“That’s my motto and the reason I didn’t stop what I was doing and talk to you yesterday.” 

“Well played, Toby. Well played. Know this: Bill can get carried away. Don’t allow him to do anything inappropriate.” 

“He’s been nothing but a gentleman.” 

“OK. Good. Did you get the flowers from Randy Cunningham?” 

“Huh? What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Friend from school, he said. I saw you two talking New Year’s Eve.” 

“He’s not a friend. Flowers?” 

“He said he wanted to send you flowers. A thank you for something you did.” 

I rolled my eyes so hard, they almost got stuck. “That’s how he got my address.” 

Mary stared at me for a long breath. “I get the impression I shouldn’t have.” 

“He tried to rape me.” 

“Rape you?” 

“Twice. Once in school, then again last night after kicking the door in.” 

“Are you OK?” 

“I am, he’s not.” 

“Is he alive?” 

I chuckled. “I really like you think that a serious question. He had two friends with him. I didn’t wish to dig a hole that big. Since this was his second run at me, I not only broke his nose again, I broke his arm, cutting short that promising football career before it even began.” 

Mary looked down at the desk. “This could be big trouble.” 

I packed all the shruginess I could pack in my shoulders. “He’s not only an asshole, he’s the leader of all the assholes. He’s the head rapist of a rape club in school. The only reason he gets away with it is he’s a football star. I fixed that.” 

“Someone will take his place.” 

“Maybe I’ll burn the senior and junior schools to the ground. That won’t stop them. It might slow them down.” 

Mary snickered nervously. “I’ll make some phone calls. I know people at the hospital he likely went. I’ll see what his story sounds like, if your name’s mentioned, see if I can get out in front of this.” 

“I know a girl, high school, good worker, wants to be a doctor. Can you get her a job in the trenches at the hospital?”  

“I could likely get her a job aiding the nurses, which would give her a good idea what she’s in for.” 

“Not like General Hospital, huh?” 

“You can’t watch that?” 

“I don’t. Tex had it on one day.” 

“Tex? The cook?” 

“He’s doing work on the house. I’ll send Diane up to see you. She works at Harvest.” 

The door opened. “Ah, there you are,” Bill said. 

 

The mall was quiet, most stores yet to open. Carol waved to me from the breakfast counter across the way as we exited Playland. I ignored her. My boots clomped a song from the floor, distracting me from my surroundings. 

“What was that all about with Mary?” Bill asked. 

“Mary was concerned about your shenanigans.” 

“You didn’t –” 

“Bill, come on. I’m not a gossip. Stuff between us stays between us. Mary has it in her head she needs to protect me from you. I recently escaped one mother. I don’t need a replacement.” 

We sat on the two-foot wall at the fountain, the fountain cycling varied dances, soothing, much like listening to rain. 

“I wanted to explain,” Bill said. “My, eh, dressing has nothing to do with me doing it.” 

“Do you always do it when you dress? Let me change that. Is dressing just foreplay for masturbation?” 

He almost blushed, uncomfortable. “No, not even a little bit.” 

“Peace? Comfort?” 

“Yes. Though, sometimes arousal.” 

“OK. I follow. Not that I give it that much thought, I do have the idea dressing isn’t always or just about masturbation.” 

“Eh?” 

“Oh, I know a guy.” 

“Do tell.” 

“I think not. I’m not a gossip” 

“I’m pretty sure I know who you’re talking about.” 

“I’m sure you don’t.” 

He nodded, staring across the court. “You. This gets complicated. Your body brings to mind how I imagined myself when I was fifteen in the home.” 

“Telling me I have the body of a fifteen-year-old boy isn’t compliment you think it is.” 

“That’s not what I meant. I was pretty. Like you. You know about my popularity. When I, eh, engaged with the boys, I imagined myself a girl. The night we went shopping, I saw you as me, maybe me as you. I don’t know why I didn’t cum in my pants.” 

“I guess I should take the compliment. I know I’m attractive. I know it gets complicated. I’ve gotten myself off often watching myself in the mirror. There was one time watching my reflection in a window at the White Tower, I flirted with me, drove myself crazy, had great sex with me when I got home.” I left out imagining myself as someone else to avoid that complication.  

“Yeah, Bill. I’m weird. I have my own kink. I don’t judge.” 

“I didn’t think girls –” 

“Surprise.” 

“Yeah, huh? 

“I don’t get the spunking on my hand, Bill.” 

“It’s weird.” 

“That ship sailed a long time ago.” 

“It’s not that I imagine I’m you. I imagine I’m me, but I have your body. I want me to cum in my body, get me pregnant. Does the thought of semen in you arouse you, too?” 

I shivered. “Ew, Bill. Maybe it’s my memories of Uncle Gropey holding me down, spunking my face. Maybe my brother spunking my face when I was sleeping. The thought of semen inside me? Repulsive. The thought of anything inside me makes me squirm. Even Pam’s fingers inside me are uncomfortable. She enjoys it, so I tolerate.” 

I took a deep breath. “You jerking off in front of me, your watching my naked body, and specifically you spunking on me or even near me will never be OK. Given the nature of our relationship, I’ll allow it. Like you said. It gets complicated.” 

 

Bob Edwards looked up as I entered the office at the Harvest Chateau. “Door wasn’t locked.” Harvested opened at noon, later than other stores. 

“Hi, Toby. Can you work today? Noon to two-thirty, when Pam gets here.” 

“Sure. Just because I’ll get to see Pam.” 

“I’m sure you survived the night just fine.” 

“I had a good night. I got to mug a rapist who kicked my front door in.” 

He laughed, I shrugged. 

“You’re not kidding?” 

I waved him off. “As much as I appreciate the offer, even if we do independent contractor, I don’t feel my doing the bookkeeping for you is a good idea. Top of the list is my father and Tammy lurking around the mall all the time. Tammy keeps coming at me, someone’s going to get hurt and that someone isn’t me.” 

“I don’t think they’ll be a problem.” 

“Tammy’s a true believer. She’ll always be a problem.” 

“Bailey says he’ll have no problem firing her.” 

“Something else she can blame me for.” 

“Speaking of. Bailey wants to use you and Pam to model for a Valentine’s Day promotion, featuring the heart he made. Something different, he calls it.” 

“That’s certainly us. Pam can talk to Mr. Bailey. Whatever she decides is fine with me.” 

“I don’t know the details. You and Pam together – the heart. Posters at the mall entrances, and you’ll love this. An ad in your father’s paper.” 

“Perfect. Here I am thinking Pamala and I should dance on the predawn lawn, fade from sight when the sun comes up, Mr. Bailey wants to put us on public display.” 

“You should never feel –” 

“I read the papers, magazines. People get mugged or worse just for being gay. That’s the reality. Besides, I’ve never much been one for being in front of the class no matter how good my essay was.” 

 

“You must be Toby,” the man on my porch said as I carried my bike up the steps. “You were supposed to be here.” He was short, squat, his belly arguing with his white button down, black tie, open overcoat bringing my father to mind. He examined me over his black rim glasses. 

“My instructions were to give you access,” I retorted, keeping the bike between us, eying the entryway, the door and jam removed. 

“I told him that,” sang from inside the house. 

“You are the registered caretaker of the property.” He held a chipboard forward. “I require your signature.” 

I flipped through the two dozen-odd pages. “What’s all this?” 

“Just details, Toby. All you must do is sign. The back page.” 

“Let’s go in. Make some coffee. I want to look over this. My job is to protect Bill’s interest.” 

“Save some time. Call him. He’s prepared the document.” 

“Oh, in that case.” Balancing the clipboard on my bicycle seat, I revealed the last page, scribbling my name. 

“Old Lady Marcy refused to sell to the developers,” he droned on. “That was a stipulation in the sale.” 

“I did not know that. When’s the sale?” 

His expression was that of a child’s caught with his hand in the cookie jar fifteen minutes before dinner. “Oh, I did not mean to imply the sale is imminent.” 

 

“Men,” Tex said over my shoulder as we watched the man hurry to the street. “Can’t help but brag.” 

“He was busting to tell me about what a brilliant deal he’s made.” 

“How long have you known?” 

“That I’d not be in the house long? Since the day I took the key. Unlike when Tammy crashed us out of the house, this time, I have a plan. You going to be OK?” 

“Sure.” 

“You can – what I mean is, I’d like you to say in the back bedroom, for now.” 

“Think he’ll come back, huh?” 

“I know he’ll come back, this time with a plan.” 

 

Saturday, Bill Locke arrived at noon with his small suitcase and a duffle bag. We spent three and half minutes mindlessly talking about the weather just inside the door. “Here.” He put the duffle in my arms, hurrying up the steps. 

I was in blue jeans, an oversized men’s shirt I didn’t mind ruining, bare feet. As much as I tried, I couldn’t keep paint from going everywhere, two rooms completely covered with canvas drop cloths, one of the rooms half painted, where Billie found me ninety minutes later. 

“Looks nice,” she said. 

“As do you,” I returned, twisting the roller handle off the pole. “I have to clean up, then we can have tea.” 

 

Fifteen minutes later, Billie drummed her fingers on the kitchen table, watching out the window. “You don’t even look like you today,” she greeted as I put on water. 

I did not miss the judgment. “I certainly didn’t wish to ruin any of my good clothes.” 

“I kind of expected –” 

“Me to peacock for you?” 

“Well, no but –” 

“Want me to go shower? Dress up?” I thought to rip my shirt open like Superman. This is what you came for, after all. 

“Eh, no.” 

We spent a half hour drinking tea, speaking of nothing important. 

“You actually do pass, Billie.” 

She almost blushed. 

“I mean, you could walk down the mall, no one would know, with your makeup done like this, your wig. Perfect.” 

“Oh, I’ve thought about it a million times.” 

“We could go out to lunch. I could do all the ordering so you’d not have to worry about your voice giving you away.” 

“That’s a terrible idea.” 

“Why?” 

“You don’t drive.” 

“What’s that got to do with it?” 

“I’d have to drive. We could get pulled over. Get the wrong cop, or group of cops, really bad things can happen.” 

“Huh?” 

“It is illegal. I’ve heard some horror stories.” 

“That, Billie, really sucks.” 

“Yeah. Mary told me what happened.” 

“How bad am I going to get jammed up?” 

“Seems they got hurt in a pickup game of football.” 

“At night.” I held Billie’s eyes. “He comes at me again, I’m going to kill him. I don’t mean that as just an expression.” 

“If he comes at you again, OK. I understand.” 

“You’re implying I can’t or shouldn’t go hunting.” 

“I’m not implying that. I’m telling you flat out.” 

“If I have a body to bury, I’ll give you a call. I don’t drive.” 

 

“You’re not wearing underwear?” 

I shrugged, putting my jeans aside. 

“I like watching you take your underwear off.” 

Standing naked, my foot on the Lazy Boy, I wondered whether I could stop Bill if he decided to rape me, knowing he craved to put semen in me. 

His eyes raked up and down in an attempt to see me all at once, his right hand working his slobber-soaked penis, his left hand cupping his balls. “Your hand,” he demanded. 

The week before, he held my wrist, positioning my hand. Now, he wanted me to participate, to willingly accept his semen. I really do hate men with a passion. “I’m not comfortable with –” 

“Toby.” 

I positioned my hand, my palm getting covered with semen.  

Turned toward the kitchen, Bill off to the stairs, his slobber-soaked hand smacked my butt. Water running in the sink, pouring bleach over my hand, I said, “Asshole. All those men who abused you, congrats, you’ve become one of them.” 

On his way out the door, Bill gave me an oh, yeah, passing my pay envelope. 

 

I scrubbed in a too-hot shower for an hour, lightly applied makeup, dressed in my sky-blue A line dress breaking above the knee, silk stockings, black boots, worked through the newspapers looking for who we may have buried in the Pines, and paced for three hours waiting for Pamala. 

After a month, I thought I’d find a missing person story. 

The deadbolt on the backdoor whispered to me followed by Tex coming from the back room. “Hey. Any good news in there?” 

“No, but I heard Randy claimed to be hurt playing football.” 

“That is a rough game. Tammy happened by, ranting to Carol about sin and corruption, her preaching obviously meant for everyone in earshot.” 

“You’d think if she really wanted to do God’s will, she’d feed the hungry, house the poor, or something.” 

“I think she’s trouble – for you. I think I should arrange an accident.” 

“I’ve been wondering the same about Randy.”  

“About Texas.” 

“Yes?” 

“I don’t want to be a father. That’s not an easy thing to admit.” 

“I can understand that. I’d like you to write down all the information anyway. I just may take a week, go to Texas with a bag of money. You may sometime in the future want to get a real job.” 

“I can’t see me doing nine to five.” 

“I’ve got something in the works.” 

“Oh, tell me more.” 

“Not now.” 

 

Pamala and I settled on the floor, the fire painting our faces, drinking hot chocolate, Pamala telling stories of her workday, me drowning in my feelings watching her. 

She pulled her bag to her, rifling the contents. “Which do you like?” 

Sifting through the six 8 x 10 photos, I chose the photo with Pamala’s head on my shoulder, both of us making eye contact with the camera. “I am boldly going to put this in the frame that has my fake adult Antoinette in it.” 

“I was going to get it professionally framed.” She handed me a stack of 4 x 5 photos. “Here’s all the proofs.” 

“We’re too fucking cute.” I worked though the photos. “I think I’m ready to give Antoinette up.” 

“I don’t mind sharing, with her anyway.” 

“Mr. Bailey’s crazy.” 

“I thought the same. I told him you were in witness protection, couldn’t have your photo splashed all over the place. He laughed, said, really? I told him you were shy. Though I would love to see Tammy’s face.” 

I rolled my eyes. “They can’t abuse me if they can’t see me.” 

“I understand that, too. I’ve been that fat girl all my life.” 

“Ideal weight is not a single number, but a range. I just saw a chart in one of my magazines, let me find it.” 

“Toby, so not the point. I know I’m not that fat girl. All their mockery has ever done is gotten me to withdraw from them. You said it. Diane is not my friend. If she were really my friend, if I in any way actually liked her, I’d have gayed her up years ago.” 

 “I don’t think it works that way.” 

“I’m sure it doesn’t, which is also not my point. I made myself invisible to the kids around me. They’re mockery never reached me. What is it you said?” 

“They can’t abuse me if they can’t see me.” 

“So, instead of telling Mr. Bailey you didn’t want to get burned in a bonfire, I said you were shy.” 

The doorbell sang from the foyer. 

Tex cut me off coming from the hall. “I got this.” 

I followed anyway. With the chain on, his right hand with his pistol in the small of his back, he cracked the door. “Who are you?” he threatened. 

“Eh, Jessica. I’m a friend of –” 

“Let her in.” 

Tex opened the door, retreating. 

“Toby?” Pamala asked from behind me. 

Jessica looked left, then right. “Eh, I have this?”  

This was a thick blue binder. 

“Coat.” I took the binder and her coat. “Hot chocolate?” 

“I’m good. Sorry, didn’t know you had company.” 

“Pamala’s not company. She’s family.” 

“Toby?” Pamala asked again as we moved into the kitchen. 

“Had a break-in Wednesday. I asked Tex to take the spare bedroom for the time being.” 

“You didn’t tell me?” 

“I didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Not the right choice, Toby.” 

“I didn’t think so, either.” 

I dropped to the table, opened the binder, narrowing my eyes at the chart. “You did this yourself, Jess?” 

“I did.” 

“I’m so fucking impressed. So not just a pretty face.” 

“May I?” Jessica asked. 

I looked back and up, Jessica facing Pamala. 

I chuckled. “I thought the very same thing the moment I met her, too. It’s OK by me.” 

“May you what?” Pamala asked. 

“You are so incredibly beautiful. I want to kiss you. May I?” 

“She’s a siren,” I said. “You might as well get it over with.” I flipped a page. 

“OK. I think you’re beautiful, too. I was more than a little jealous when Toby –” 

Pamala moaned. 

“Thank you,” Jessica said, dropping on the chair cattycorner. “I was going to start with what you gave me, budget down. I decided to start from the basement, budget up.” 

“Darn,” Pamala said in a breathless whisper, taking the chair on my right. 

“These payroll projections. You account for Social Security contribution, workman’s comp, all that good stuff?” 

“How the fuck do you know all that? Of course. I have a detailed breakdown in the back.” 

“Let me see this page?” Pamala asked. 

I removed the three pages. 

“What is this?” 

“This,” I told Pamala, “Is a business plan.” 

She glanced down the pages. “You’re going to have a mess of shrink, spoilage, with quantities like this.” 

“I want to open hard, not fast. When I open the door, my focus is on building clientele, not so much on profit.” 

“How can you not focus on profit?” 

“Most new small businesses fail in the first six months due to underfunding.”  

“I heard that, too,” I said. 

Pamala pulled the binder to her, replacing the pages, flipping through. “Really. Not just a pretty face. Fantasy girl, no kidding.” 

“I’ve found a place,” Jessica announced. 

“Failed business?” 

“I thought of that. Buying an existing restaurant. I’d really like to buy a plot, build from the ground up.” 

“You could do that.” 

“Vacant warehouse.” 

“Zoning?” Pamala asked. 

“Oh, I like you. I had conversations with a couple of realtors this week. There’re properties towns are motivated to get occupied.” 

I sat back, hands behind my head, eyes closed. “I like it, depending on a lot of things.” 

“Everything depends on a lot of things. I’d like a main dining room, a ball room, smaller dining rooms, private rooms.” 

“Nothing like dreaming big.” 

“I’d like to open in the fall. By December next year, I want to be the place to book a party.” 

I rolled my eyes. “You’re going after Locke’s quarterly.” 

“You can’t imagine how much money there is in that. Besides, unlike my father, I happen to like those people.” 

“Promotion is going to be important,” Pamala said. 

Jessica smirked. “That would be pages eighteen, nineteen, and twenty.” She eyed Pamala up and down. “You seem to know something about something, you’re assertive, drop dead gorgeous, and you can think quick on your feet, which is why I kissed you, to take that measure. I’m going to need a day-to-day manager. Someone to battle in the trenches freeing me up to cook and put out the major fires. You interested?” 

 “Oh my gosh, Jessica. That seriously sounds like it was made for me.” 

“But?” 

“I’m seventeen, in high school. I’m looking at colleges for the fall, not becoming the Maître d’ of what will soon become the most popular restaurant on the East Coast.” 

 “That you even know that’s the job of a Maître d’ makes me want you more.” 

“Dad has been preparing me to run my own restaurant since I was twelve years old. Mom and Dad are really big on college. I’ll talk to them. Can I get a copy of your business plan?” 

Jessica bit her lip. “You’re Bob Edwards’ daughter.” 

“I am.” 

“Family resemblance. Your father knows Bill Locke. Bill Locke knows my father. My father can never know my plans.” 

“Allow me to stress: Bill Locke can never know your plans,” I added. 

Jessica narrowed her eyes at me, nodding. 

“No problem. I’ll swear them to secrecy. Mom’s an investment banker. I’d love to get her take on your business proposal.” 

“I like her already. Though she may have other advice for Toby about her money.” 

“She’s already advised me, which amounted to loaning me a couple books, and that’s brought us here. It’s best she is not aware of my involvement for now.” 

 

Jessica stoically received the second duffle. I liked that about her, not getting excited over a pile of money, eyes big, seeing money as just another tool instead. She left her business plan on the kitchen table. “I have two other copies. 

At her car, Jessica stowed the duffle, took Pamala’s cheeks, putting her lips on hers. Pamala’s hands took Jessica’s wrists, then fell to her waist. Finally retreating, Pamala blushed the blush of all blushes. 

“I want Toby to be as jealous as you are,” Jessica explained. 

Jessica wrapped me up, I wrapped back, my chin on her shoulder. “3.6 billion people in the world, you’re one of the very few I want to hug.” 

“Imagine me saying something just as corny back.” 

 

Arm in arm, we watched the green MG with the black canvas top disappear over the rise. 

“She’s a pretty good kisser,” Pamala said. 

“Yeah, she is.” 

“She didn’t kiss you.” 

“Oh, she’s just fucking with me. She needs to feel at least the illusion she’s in control. As a woman, as a girl, she’s lived dismissed by her family, good for washing dishes maybe scrubbing floors, toilets. Given time, trust, she could become a friend, maybe even a good friend real and true. I’ll give her that time.” 

“I think I understand. How much?” 

“Months, more likely years.” 

“I meant how much money.” 

“Just over two hundred grand.” 

Pamala gave me though big eyes I expected. “Nickels and dimes, huh?” 

“I’m very frugal.” 

 

Sunday morning, I lingered over coffee and the Sunday paper, my breakfast table littered with dishes, Pamala off to church, Tex off to the mall. I did expect a return visit from Randy, not before he got his arm out of the cast. Placing the baseball bat I found in the basement nearby became an unwanted habit, a habit I should have developed when I was a child surrounded by abusers and abuser enablers. 

I rolled my eyes at the doorbell.  

Releasing the locks, I opened the door, turning back toward the kitchen. “Toni.” 

She entered, denim skirt to the knee, black leggings, gray wool socks folded to the top of her black combat boots, hot pink sweatshirt, hanging her black hooded jacket in the foyer. “I’ve got news,” she said with the same excitement she had when she blew Levy for the first time. 

Clearing the table into the sink, I asked, “Coffee?” 

“Absolutely. I love your coffee.” 

“My trick is never washing the pot. It’s like being seasoned.” I symbolically looked in the direction of the front door. “No Levy?” 

“I think he’s getting tired of me.” 

“Did he smack you – again?” 

“No! After that first time, I learned what not to do.” 

“Like training a puppy not to shit in the house.” 

“Eh, ah.” 

I waved her aside like shooing flies, placing cups on the table. “Your news?” 

“Do you know Keith Oswald?” 

“I used to see him around.” 

“He came up on me in school, like out of nowhere. Odd. He’s talking to me like I’m a girl. Weird, I’m talking back at him like I’m Toni. Anyway, he says I have a job – if I want.” 

“Wow, that’s great, like the universe is taking care of you.” 

“It’s a boy’s job – in a gas station, but so what, you know. I’ll be pumping gas, working on cars. I did one wheel on a brake job yesterday, almost by myself!” 

“I’m proud of you, Toni.” 

“Pay’s great. I think in a month, I can start looking for a place to live out of my house.” 

“I may have something sooner.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can’t say.” 

“OK. If I’m not around, you have my number.” 

“Not around?” 

“I told Levy my grandmother in Florida is really sick, and I have to go down there for a month.” 

“So you can see who Toni is without Levy.” 

“Right.” 

“Plans for the rest of the day?” 

“Not really. No work on Sunday.” 

“I’ve got old clothes for you. We can paint a couple of rooms, hang, just us girls.” 

“I’d like that.” 

 

Monday morning, I rode my bicycle back to my old neighborhood, the temperatures in the low forties. After a quick survey of the lot at Circle Auto on the highway, I worked hard, finally pushing the office door open. 

The office was cramped, a desk filling most the space, Larry, his feet on the desk, leaned back in the chair, occupied with a paperback. He was old to me, relatively young, in his thirties. Jeans, sneakers, brown button down, ratty tan jacket, dark hair slicked tight to his head, his dark eyes glanced me, returning to the book, a cigarette dancing between his lips. “What do you want, sister?” 

“Blue pickup. Does it run?” 

He glanced again, eyeing me up and down. “Of course it runs. It’s on the lot. Why would we have a vehicle on the lot that doesn’t run?” 

“How much?” 

“How old are you?” 

I rolled my eyes. “Does the price depend on how old I am?” 

“Well, sister –” 

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t sister me. How much? It’s not a hard question.” 

He snickered, dropping his feet to the floor, looking out the window behind me. “Blue Ford pickup?” 

“Yes.” 

“That truck is in really good shape. Owned by –” 

“Save the sales pitch, brother. Give me a number.” 

He narrowed his eyes watching mine. “Let’s say, eh, $500.” 

I pursed my lips, nodded, dug in my light red swede bag coming up with a stack of banded bills. “Here’s a thousand – if you sign the title, I’ll be on my way.” 

“Eh, well, ah,” He opened a drawer, flipping through documents, placing one on the desk, biting his lip, a pen working. 

I dropped the money beside the title. 

“I need to count this.” 

“It’s all there. Keys?” 

He reached behind him, fetching a ring with two keys. “Be sure to tell your friends about us.” 

 

The pickup handled much differently from Pamala’s Chevy II. I had no difficulties driving to my rented garage, my bike in the back. 

 

Wednesday night was cold, dark. I dressed up cute early, taking a cab to the mall. It was nice seeing Rex, the driver. We talked of nothing for ten minutes when he dropped me off. 

I spent a joyful thirty minutes toward the back of Harvest watching Pamala work.  

Diana dropped at my table. “I’ve never seen her so happy.” 

I blushed. “If you’re really interested in working in the medical field, drop down to Playland, see Mary Locke in the ticket booth. She’ll get you in the hospital.” 

“Oh, I’ve applied to –” 

“See Mary Locke. Tell her you’re the girl I spoke to her about.” 

Pamala led me into the office. We talked of nothing for ten minutes, holding hands. 

“Mom has questions. Redlined a couple of things.” 

“Another time,” I said. 

We held each other into eternity, Pamala back to work, I called my cab. 

 

I stood by the front window, watching the blustering snow. 

“Not supposed to amount to much,” Tex said over my shoulder. 

“Figures. I’ve been considering taking a bike ride, but twenty-six miles round trip at night is asking for trouble.” 

“He won’t be back tonight.” 

“Yeah, not in the cast. Do you know where the DMV is?” 

“I do. Why?” 

“I bought a truck today. I need you to do the title, registration, tags. I’m not old enough. Will your license fly?” 

“It should. I’m going to take a shower while I still can.” 

“Remember –” 

“No running around the house naked.” 

 

Reclining on the lazy Boy, I was reading another article about elephants, the fire snapping now and then, the shower stopped, and the heater came to life in the basement. Two quick thuds resounded from the front door, then a third, the door crashing in. 

I was on my feet, bat in hand, in one motion.  

Now, a dark figure did fill the opening, dressed in black, a ski mask covering all but his eyes, his twin behind him. He advanced on me. 

I lunged forward bringing the bat up the side of his head, not a convincing blow, a blow just the same. 

“Son-of-a-bitch!” he bellowed, catching my second attempt in his left hand, his right fist clocking powerfully into my left orbit, snapping my head back. 

“George!” the other man yelled. “What the fuck?” 

I struggled to keep my feet and the bat, failing at both, the back of my head bouncing smartly off the floor. I may have blacked out. The ripping sound of duct tape assaulted my ears, my arms forced together behind me. 

“Off her. Do it now!” Tex said. 

“Who are –” 

A gunshot sang in the dim living room. “I’m not fucking around. Both you. On your knees.” 

They obeyed, more than a little bewildered. 

I struggled to my feet, unsteady, dizzy. “Yeah. What the fuck, George?” 

“We’re here to –” 

“Shut up or I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head.” 

“I want to hear what they’re here for,” I whined mockingly. 

“I would have gotten here sooner, but you warned me about running around naked. Tape their wrists.” 

I did, and removed the ski masks revealing men, not boys like I expected. 

“We’re here at bequest of your father.” 

“Huh? Oh, fuck. Hold on.”  

Barefoot, dressed in my light blue pajamas with the smiling clouds, I hurried out the door, down the walk, through the gate, opening the driver’s door of the waiting white van, grasping Tammy by the coat, dragging her to the ground. “You’re missing the party.” 

Over her objection, I pushed her into the house, throwing her to the floor with the two men. 

“Tammy,” Tex greeted with a nod. 

“George,” I said. “What gives?” 

“You’re making a big mistake.” 

“Not my first, won’t be my last.” 

Tex narrowed his eyes at Tammy. “You hired brainwashers?” 

“Well, Tex, it’s the opposite.” 

“Who has the letter?” 

“My inside pocket,” George said. 

Carefully retrieving, I read quickly. “My father has given you permission to kidnap me?” 

“Your father only means the best for you,” Tammy said. 

I pointed to my swelling cheek. “Hammer.” I rolled my eyes. “What gives my dear father a sudden interest in my wellbeing? Do you have a magic pussy? Maybe you give one hell of a blow job.” 

“Tobes!” 

“Not that this isn’t fun and all, Tobes –” 

“Fuck you, Tex.” 

“But what do you want to do?” 

“Kill them, bury them in the Pines.” 

The two men and Tammy talked at once. 

“Ground’s frozen. Three? We’d be digging for a week.” 

“I have three shovels. They could do the digging.” 

“How about we keep it simple. They broke in – I just fixed that jam, too – you had to kill them in self-defense.” 

“Kill them, put them in the van, torch the van down by the river.” 

“I do so love a fire. Cops. Your eye’s going to swell shut. Assault of a minor. All three can be charged since they’re all part of the break in.” 

“Is that right?” 

“Sure.” 

“You’re overlooking the fact that he’s got a dick and I don’t. In cases like this, our culture always comes down on the side of the dicked person, against the dickless.” 

“We could let them off with a warning.” 

“Relax. We don’t kill people. Well, Tammy, we would if I felt that person or persons was a dire threat to me.” 

“We mean you only good,” Tammy insisted. 

“If I felt, I said, Tammy. What you think doesn’t matter. My father is only interested in my life now because you told him to be. You want to fix it. Is he back to drinking?” 

“Well, eh.” 

“Boy, is your honeymoon over. My father wears a mask. That’s the happy guy who’s always glad to see you, always saying nice things to pretty girls. Girls like you whose father berated them, telling them girls are evil, that they’re not pretty will soak up my father’s schtick like a balm for their damaged souls.” 

The expression on Tammy’s face told me I was dead-on. 

“Then you feed his fire, giving him some serious validation. His mask, your mask cannot be sustained. He’ll return to the only lover he’s ever really known because, Tammy, a drunk only has one true love and it isn’t you. 

“Fix that. Leave me out of your dramas. Tex, cut them loose. Tammy, come at me again, expect a lengthy hospital stay or a shallow grave in the Pines. 

 

Tex put his arm around me as we stood in the doorway watching the white van disappear into the darkness. 

“Good speech,” Tex said. 

“Mostly guesswork. When she started sobbing, I knew I was right. She’s an odd duck. Fucking a married man, breaking up a marriage – cool. But we’d better cure the gay girl.” I waved the letter. “I don’t care if the Pope signed this. It’s not legal. My father cannot authorize assholes to kidnap me.” 

“I’m not sure you’re right about that. I have some experience with that.” 

I shrugged. “Get some wood from the garage. Let’s put the door in place and secure it.” 

“I’ll call the yard in the morning, replace the entire jam again when I get back from DMV.” 

“Just secure it for now. We can use the backdoor.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Yes. Put your arm around me again, I’ll break it.” 

He snickered, stepping away. “I thought we had a moment back there.” 

“When not-George pissed his pants?” 

 

I may have hit myself in the face with a 2 x 4 if I’d thought of it. George didn’t break the skin. My eye was swollen shut, blotchy purple in a circle coming down my cheek. Mrs. Harris eyed me speechless from behind her desk in the Belair Apartment rental office. 

“Are, eh, you OK?” 

“Ask me that in fifteen minutes. I hope to have a better answer.” 

Mrs. Harris was in her thirties, shy, even timid, soft brown eyes circling around my face, chestnut hair on her shoulders. “What, then, can I do for you?” 

“I need a safe place to live. A place where no one can find me through any records.” I faked I was about to cry. “My dad’s going to kill me one of these days. Literally.” 

“I wish I had something –” 

“I’m not asking for something for nothing. I’d like a two bedroom. Second floor’s good. I’m very quiet.” 

Pain dripped from her eyes. “I wish I could help, but –” 

I put Antoinette’s birth certificate on the desk. “I’ll pay, in cash, a year’s rent, now, right now, today. I’ll give you, personally, a $500 signing bonus.” 

Most people are willing to help out a girl in trouble – if the price is right. 

 

I grossly miscalculated my brother. I should have killed him or moved out of the apartment the day we moved in. The factor I missed was my brother bragging having sex with me, even though he never actually had sex with me. Boys sitting around, pot, beer, boasting, being boys – of course they’d rape me. Boys will be boys, after all. 

I knew Bill would rape me. He said as much as fantasy boy in the mall. Well, he meant rape himself, but he didn’t mean rape, what he imagined across the mindscape. In objective reality, it was rape. 

Saturday, Bill arrived on time, going to the back door as my note directed, duffle, no suitcase. “What happened?” 

“It would seem –” I said, meeting him in the kitchen. I rolled my eyes. 

“My God, your eye. Are you alright?” 

I shrugged. “Sure. It was a lot worse two days ago. Long story short. My father left home for a kid a little older than me. The kid’s got a father who is out to save the world by straightening up all the gay people. My guess is he’s got some kind of live-in program like summer camp, but in the winter, too.” 

Bill shook his head, confused. 

“They came the other night to invite me to be cured, taking a sledgehammer to the door. Things got violent when I declined the invitation.” 

“I’ll send a man over to fix the door.” 

“I’m on it. Just, well, with all the painting, the fence out front. My to-do list is long. I’d just fixed the jam once, with a new lockset and everything from the Cunningham kid kicking the door in.” 

“Good, good.” He dropped the duffle on the kitchen table. “Painting again today?” 

“I could go change, get dressed up.” 

“I don’t have time today, can’t stay. Drop your pants.” He held my stare. 

I undid the snap, working the zipper down. 

“Oh, I wish you’d wear underwear.” 

Sorry to disappoint. I kept his eyes. 

He stepped into me, spinning me, pinning me face down on the kitchen table, his large hand to the back of my neck. Unable to see, I knew he lacquered his penis. With much less difficulty than I would have imagined, he entered me, going balls deep. 

I grunted. 

He held fast unmoving as if trapped inside me. “Don’t move.” 

A geologic age crept by, my bruised face pushed onto the table. I was reminded I’d not wiped the table down after Tex, Pamala, and I had breakfast. 

Finally, without ceremony, the penis moved, shrinking, pulling away, the sound of Bill’s belt buckle filling my head. “I know you said it wasn’t OK, but you’d tolerate it.” 

I was held to the table. Unable to move, unwilling to move. Pamala had told a joke about penguins, Tex laughing hard, dropped his bacon. I imagined the bacon grease holding me fast. Just go away. 

“You’ll be taken care of, all your needs, you know that.” 

Fantasy boy. 

“I’ll see you next week, then,” Bill said, dropped my pay envelope, turning, leaving the kitchen. 

I watched the duffle. “Oh, Bill, if you think that was a good fuck you gave me, wait until you experience the fucking I’m going to give you.” 

 

I repeated a too-hot shower. I’d had douched with bleach if I thought it’d do any good. 

My hair wet, I sat naked on my bed, the phone ringing in my ear two and a half times, interrupted by, “You’ve got Doctor Kearny.” 

“Toby,” I answered, surprised I got the doctor and not a receptionist. 

He hesitated. 

“You don’t remember me?” 

“Oh, sure, yes, I do. How are you?” 

Bill Locke raped me, I thought to say, saying instead, “Bill Locke and I had sex.” 

More hesitation. 

“I need to know, want to know. Well, Doctor, do I need another test, or do you know for a fact Bill doesn’t have a sexually transmitted disease?” 

“You’ll have to get tested again. What makes you think I could give out personal medical information concerning another patient?” 

“You gave him my information.” 

Yet more hesitation. 

“Look – Doctor. It’s a simple question. Maybe I should file a police report.” 

“You don’t want to even hint at such a threat, little girl.” 

“Doctor Kearny. I’m salaried.” 

“I had no idea. Sure, Bill is disease free. Having you tested was kind of the point, as you can imagine.” 

What the fuck? “I’d not thought of that. Thanks for your time.” 

I hung up. 

 

Pam and I sat on the floor, wrapped in a gray wool blanket, the heat from the fire washing over us. “Would you lie for me?” I asked. 

“About what?” Pam answered. “Forget that. I love you real and true, always and forever. Of course I’d lie for you. 

I let out a deep breath, closing my eyes, dropping my head on her shoulder. “He raped me today.” 

Pam sighed, holding me tighter. “Bill?” 

“Well, it wasn’t rape, well, it was.” 

“You don’t have to explain.” 

“It’s weird.” 

“No kidding?” 

“Let me start with this: The Saturday thing. You know you can never repeat anything I say?” 

“I do.” 

“Bill likes to dress up as a woman.” 

“I’ve got all that chapter and verse from my father.” 

“Right, OK. He doesn’t have a safe place. I offered here once. He came over, dressed up. We had a pleasant afternoon, me and Billie. At the end of the day, he just had to jerk off. I don’t mean going off by himself. Jerking off watching me. Naked.” 

She shrugged. “I could do that.” 

“As you know, I have. So not the point. He told me I reminded him of what he looked like when he was a boy.” 

“Not the compliment he thinks it is.” 

“I told him that. He was assaulted – though I use the word, it may not actually apply – by many other boys repeatedly and often. He said when that happened, he imagined himself a girl.” 

“That’s terrible, the assaulting.” 

“Kind of reminds me of Toni.” 

“How so?” 

“Toni has sex with boys. Not really –” 

“Yeah, she’s said. A handy or a blow job, maybe a dry hump. It’s still sex.” 

“Toni tells me Michael’s not gay.” 

“Because she’s Toni when she does it. I get that.” 

“Bill and I were talking. He steered the conversation toward spunking. Maybe I brought it up. He asked if the thought of spunk inside me turned me on. I told him no. Just the thought creeped me out. Even your fingers inside me are uncomfortable. I allow it because of our relationship, and you really like it.” 

 “You don’t like when I do that?” 

“I like that you like it.” 

“I don’t like it so much that I’d do it if it creeps you out. You should have said something.” 

“I appreciate that. I think Bill took that as permission to spunk inside me. To spunk inside me required his dick inside me.” 

“Which brings us back to the rape that wasn’t rape.” 

“Just when you think it can’t get any weirder. He showed up this morning. No Billie time. Barely asks about my eye, hardly a how are you today. Pants down, held against the kitchen table facedown by the neck, penis inserted, he told me not to move. He didn’t. 

“When the boys raped me, they squirmed around on top me like a blob of water on a too-hot skillet. Bill just stood there.” 

“A sperm injector.” 

I giggled inappropriately. “Exactly.” 

“He wants you to have his baby.” 

“I think he imagines I’m him as a child and that’s who he thinks is going to have his baby.” 

Pam sighed. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about you having my baby, the problem being I don’t have a sperm injector.” 

“That, and I have no intention or desire to have a baby. If I get pregnant from this rape, which I doubt, I’m going to suck it out with the Hoover.” 

She giggled inappropriately. “Even I know it doesn’t work that way.” 

“I know a guy. Matter-of-fact, I called him to see if Bill was disease free, the guy Bill took me to.” 

“Can he give out that kind of information?” 

“Given the nature of our relationship, he can. Anyway. I’ve told you back before my father cast us out into the dark abyss of poverty, my brother would sneak into my room at night, jerk off, spunk on my face while I slept. He was getting bolder. I put a lock on the door, which pissed my mother off.” 

“Oh-my-gosh.” 

“The implications, huh?” 

“I should have bounced her head off the linoleum a couple of times.” 

“When we moved to the apartment, she put me on the sofa in the living room, my brother a bedroom, her in the other.” 

“She literally offered you up.” 

“Like a lamb to the dick god. I knew he’d rape me, just a matter of time and escalation. I considered killing him.” 

“Really?” 

“That would have prevented the rape. Antoinette stopped me. Not often, she pops up and stops me from doing stupid or extreme stuff. I was working on a plan to move out of the apartment. I just didn’t work quick enough.” 

“As with Bill.” 

“Yeah. It became obvious he’d rape me. Why can’t I get one of these assholes who is nice to me, buys me things, takes me out, you know, romances me?” 

“You’re moving out, just not quickly enough.” 

“Yeah, like with my brother. At least Bill didn’t bring friends. Want to see the new place?” 

“I was thinking of washing your hair.” 

“I know it’s probably all in my head. I can still smell his stink on me.” 

“You can always tell me no. You never need a reason.” 

“I love you real and true. I have a dozen boxes we can put in the car.” 

 

“George should have never hit you,” Tammy said, the mall fountain singing behind us Monday morning early. “They should never have broken your door down.” 

“I did hit him with the baseball bat.” 

“Still. I’m glad you’re big enough to see past all that, make things right.” 

“I wanted to apologize. We really were just fucking with you. We don’t kill people.” 

“Your father said you have a flat, dry sense of humor.” 

I did not know how to take my father talking about me. I wasn’t sure he knew my name. “Sarcasm.” 

“Yeah, that’s it.” 

“I wanted to ask you about this Jesus Camp.” 

“Tobes, it’s a retreat, not a camp.” 

I could do without Tobes. “OK, Tammy, tell me about this retreat.” 

“It’s really a nice place. We have counselors to help you understand things. Isolated from the outside world, no distractions. We do have Bible instruction. Good food. We sing, laugh. You’d learn how to fix what’s wrong in your life. We like people to commit two months.” 

“Life is hard that way. So many distractions. Difficult to get my breath, make decisions instead of just acting out.” 

“Exactly.” 

“What if I sign up? How’s it work?” 

“I’m so glad you’re interested. With your father already signing off, all you really need do is get on the bus.” 

“There’s a bus?” 

“It’s a metaphor.” 

I smiled softly, getting a peek behind her curtain. I’d thought she was playing dumb. “Two months?” 

“Sure. First time, at the minimum.” 

“What if I commit, get on the bus, two months, and someone from the outside world wishes to distract me?” 

“Oh, we have no phones there – just one phone in the office.” 

“I mean, kick the door it, hit me in the face – that's a metaphor, too.” 

“Oh, your sarcasm. I can see why you annoyed your father so much.” 

“It’s a gift.” 

“We have complete secrecy. We neither confirm nor deny the identities of any of our guests. Even the location is as secret as it can be. Middle of the woods, not even in New Jersey, not easy to find.” 

“With George and not George, eh, caretakers?” 

“We have able security.” 

 

Still early, Harvest wasn’t open. I let myself in, past the busy kitchen. “Bob, Mr. Edwards,” I greeted. “I’m never sure whether I want to greet you as a child or an adult.” 

He stared up at me for a long moment. “Dad, like Pam does, would work.” 

“It’ll be a long time before I equate dad with something positive.” I unfolded a paper, placing it on the desk. “It would seem my father – Dad – has sold my soul.” 

His attention stayed with me. “Obviously, you are not going to volunteer so I shall ask.” 

“Oh, the eye? That has to do with my soul being sold. I earned this in their first attempt to collect. They did not fare well, but then there were only three of them. 

He retrieved the letter from the desk, glancing the sheet. “What the fuck, Toby?” 

“Odd, Bob. That’s exactly what I said.” 

“This can’t be legal.” 

“I said that, too.” 

“Well, they obviously assaulted you. Let me get my lawyer on the horn, we’ll go down the station, file charges today.” 

I shrugged. “Problem is, Bob, the good Reverend Flannagan has a penis, me, alas, am penisless.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It’s been my experience in official matters, the person with the penis gets the action. 6^th grade, boy bounces my face off the steps – still have the scar – oh, boys will be boys, let’s all yuck it up. A bit later, when he goes to hit me again, I fuck him up so bad I bet he still has nightmare about it. I get a two-week suspension.” 

I rolled my eyes. “He did circle back a couple of years later and rape me with my brother and two other friends. I didn’t bother to tell anyone because –” 

“They have dicks.” 

“You’re catching on.” 

“Toby, I have never felt so helpless about anything.” 

“I told you Tammy’s not going to stop. They’re going to come for me again. This time, I’m going with them.” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s a two-month romp in the woods. Upstate New York, the best I can figure. Two months playing their game is nothing. It’ll put all this behind us.” 

Bob pursed his lips. “I want to talk to my lawyer.” 

I shrugged. “Somewhere in the back of my mind I may have a plan to lock all the doors, burn the place to the ground. Everything involving the camp is very secretive. I’d rather no one knows I’m even there.” 

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.” 

“Good.” 

“I assume you’re going to talk to Pam.” 

“You assume correctly.” 

 

Michael Borrows climbed from a dark sedan in front of the house even as I was making nice with Rex the taxi driver. “Oh, he’s a friend,” I answered Rex’s concerned expression. 

“OK, until next time.” 

I sighed, wishing to tell him there’d never be a next time. “I look forward to it!” 

“Toby,” Borrows greeted, opening the door. 

“Mr. Borrows.” 

“You always dress so cute.” 

“One of the few indulgences I allow myself.” 

 

Overcoat draped on a chair, Borrows sat at the kitchen table while I made coffee. 

“I have your taxes.” 

“My taxes?” 

“Tax returns. You must file yearly.” He worked to untie a large brown envelope. 

“I actually knew that.” 

“Just sign –” 

“Where indicated.” 

He withdrew an envelope from the envelope. “These are just copies of the court filings from that other paperwork. For your records.” 

“Court filings. For my records.” 

“If anything should happen.” 

I raised an eyebrow, watching his eyes. “What’s going to happen?” 

“Oh, you never know, never know.” 

“Give me a for instance.” 

He bit his lip. “All you need know is if anything were to happen, you’ll be taken care of.” 

“Bill said the same thing, though he may have been talking about something way different.” 

“How so?” 

“Are you two really, really good friends?” 

“We buried a body together.” 

“He’s been getting frisky.” 

“You haven’t –” 

“We have.” 

He closed his eyes. “If you get pregnant call me right away. Don’t tell Bill.”  

I couldn’t tell whether Borrows was sad or angry, maybe both. The leap was not a difficult one. “So I don’t get buried in the Pines?” 

He worked to his feet, gathering my tax returns. “You’re too smart for your own good. I’ll talk to Bill.” 

I stood. “What about the other thing I shouldn’t worry about that I’ll be taken care of?” 

He struggled into his coat, watching down on me for a long moment. “If you’re arrested – for anything, don’t offer up any information.” 

“Like when you guys joked me.” 

“Exactly like that. Know: no matter what. You’ll be taken care of.” 

In that instant, I knew for sure I’d not be taken care of. “OK, Mr. Borrows. If anything should happen, call you. I’ll be taken care of.” 

He gave a sharp nod projecting the demeanor of a man not good at lying. 

 

The lean side of midnight, Pamala dozed on and off, in my arms before the fire. Tapping, like a whisper sang from the back door. Tex, pistol in the small of my back, beat me there, cracking the door. 

“I saw your light,” the hooded figure said, hunched against the cold, hands in his pockets. “Got a flat. No tire iron.” 

“Does this look like the auto club?” Tex slapped. 

“Do we have a tire iron?” I asked. 

“Garage.” 

“Wait here. Let me get my coat.” 

“I’ll go,” Tex snarled. 

“I’ve got this.” 

 

“You really do have a flat tire.” 

He chuckled. “I have no idea who’s watching when. I don’t want to take any chances.” He took the 4-way lug wrench, dropping to a knee. 

“Well, Young Detective, what can I do for you?” 

“Flattering, but –” 

“Don’t be. Young Detective, Old Detective, is what I called you guys since you never gave me any names.” 

“Cute, like you.” Rolling the tire aside, he placed the space, spinning and locking the nuts down. He stood, maybe too close to be considered polite. 

“You impressed me. Your wit, you standing tall against us in the box, even overwhelmed. Not one hint of terror. People cry minutes into the box.” 

“So, what now? You’re going to ask me out?” 

“No, oh no. You’re way too young.” 

“I kind of doubt that – for you.” 

He shrugged. “There’s that wit.” 

“Besides, I’m in a committed relationship.” 

“That, too.” He looked up and down the street. “I’m just saying I really like you. I feel you’re a good person. There’s a shitstorm coming. I don’t want to see you get blindsided.” 

“Out of the kindness of your heart.” 

He pursed his lips. “All that, the only thing you question is my motive?” 

“I pretty much have the rest figured out. The shady financial enterprise is obvious. I wasn’t aware the federales were onto it. I mean, I knew maybe at some point, which was the whole reason I’ve been setup with a job, the house, shit like that.” 

“They’re not called federales –” 

“That was me being cute.” 

“Anyway, your best bet to avoid forty years to life is to immediately turn state’s evidence, get a lawyer outside any of this mess. He might be able to cut that by two-thirds.” 

“Two-thirds?” 

“It’s not like you know anything, have any information of value. You’re in a perfect trap. The perfect fall guy.” 

“Fall girl, thank you very much. You didn’t answer me. You’re obviously risking a lot, maybe your life, to give me a warning. Why?” 

His stare to the distance up the street lingered in the cold air. “I like you. I can’t say that much about many people.” 

“How soon, Young Detective.” 

He stowed the flat tire in the trunk, pumped the jack down, then offered the lung wrench.  

“You keep it. It’s not mine anyway.” 

He shrugged. “I have one. It’s a matter of days, not weeks.” 

I returned the shrug. “I guess I’ll go pack clean underwear and a toothbrush.” I did not offer up that Bill likely had his bags packed, stowing money, poised to rabbit at any moment. 

 

“I need you to cut school tomorrow,” I said even as the door snapped shut. 

“OK,” Pamala answered. 

“A moment?” Tex asked. 

“Sure.” I dropped my coat from my shoulders, Pamala offered a nod, retreating. 

Tex held my eyes. “Most mornings, early, there’s a girl, obvious runaway, stops in for coffee and a doughnut. I sneak her eggs, rather Carol lets me sneak her eggs.” 

“Anyway.” 

“I don’t know the particulars, but I’m not stupid. I know you need to disappear. This girl is built like you, same body type, same height. I mean, the house, this house could catch on fire. You could die in that fire.” 

My first thought was Tex had a great idea. My second thought was that I creeped myself out even considering it. “I’m going to Tammy’s Jesus camp.” 

Tex nodded. 

“They're coming for me in the morning. Going to break the door down – again.” 

“I can sell that.” 

“I’m counting on it.” 

“So, this is it.” 

“It could be.” 

We watched each other for a long moment. 

“We going to hug?” he asked. 

“No, we are not.” 

 

With the fire crackling, Pamala snuggled on my shoulder. “What seems like a million years ago, my father decided he didn’t want to be a family anymore, not that we ever were anything that even resembled a family. The factor affecting me most was losing the house. 

“My brother wanted to rape me. Without a bedroom door to lock, he did. As I was considering my options, top of list camping out beside the railroad, I pulled a thorn out of Bill Locke’s paw. It just so happened he just bought this house and needed a caretaker, which is how I came to live here. 

“I kind of looked the other way concerning his dealings, him pouring truckloads of money on me, most of the money to go into the bank account he set up for me.” 

“The sounds like money laundering.” 

“That’s exactly what it is, me looking the other way, laundering his money. Well, it’s not his money.” 

“Who’s?” 

“I really don’t know. Whoever they are, they’re smart enough to set up a fall girl for when the federales come a-knocking.” 

“They really should have set up a fall woman. If things break, as a minor, the federales – you always crack me up – are going to treat you like a victim.” 

“Oh, I signed some bullshit – a lot of bullshit. I could be looking at forty years.” 

“I doubt that.” 

“I don’t. Anyway.” 

“Anyway.” 

“Besides who-knows-what kind of organized crime I’m hip deep in, Bill got this weird going on. My best guess is he gets off imagining he’s me.” 

“Who wouldn’t want to be you?” 

“Anyway.” 

“Anyway.” 

“When he raped me, he was imagining he was raping himself, though, given his childhood, I’m sure he doesn’t understand it’s rape. The idea of getting himself pregnant turns him on. This much he’s said. 

“What I gather, speculation, is I’m not the only one, or I’m not the first. I believe he’s done this before, got a child pregnant, killed her, and buried her in the Pines.” 

Pamala swallowed hard. “Murder’s a whole new level of ugly uncle. How do you know?” 

“I helped bury her. I mean, they showed up in the middle of the night, we drove deep in the Pines, dug a hole. Bill’s had these trust tests for me. I went along, at the time, thinking it was a bag of rocks or something.” 

“Your brother raping you once in a while isn’t looking so bad right about now, huh?” 

“I may be the only person in the world who’d find that comment funny.” 

“One of the many reasons I love you.” 

“Bill’s been giving me bags of money.” 

“I guessed.” 

“Bill is not a great communicator. The only instructions he gave me was I know what to do with it.” 

Pamala laughed. “Like your it’ll never be OK but you’ll tolerate comment he took to mean he could rape you?” 

“Sure, just like that. Bill’s going to rabbit –” 

“Rabbit. As in run?” 

“Yeah, to escape the federales, which is why he has me holding the money.” 

“The money you’ve given away.” 

“He did say I know what to do with it.” 

“You have to disappear.” 

“Exactly, which brings us neatly to the lie you must tell for me. I’m going to Jesus camp. They’ll be kidnapping me in the morning. Everyone must believe that. Bill, and his people, whoever they are, are not going to be happy. 

“One thing I didn’t know that is a big plus, is Bill’s going to be going into hiding, too.” 

“I’ll try not to cry.” 

“Oh, you’ll like my plan. You’ll like it very much. 

 

  

 

 

Part thirteen