I turn onto Speer Boulevard and take it up into the Highlands neighborhood, then cut through the side streets until I get up to 44th which takes me over to the west side.
Why do I like this girl anyway? She’s too skinny, she’s pasty white, she’s on drugs—or was last night. Even if they were forced on her, that’s a red flag.
But none of that matters because all I can think about is the mystery. Who is she running from? Why did they drug her? How did she escape?
I find myself needing to know the answers to these questions for multiple reasons. Is she in the business? Her * has been waxed bare. Her legs fell open on command. She was pretty receptive to the idea of making money off her body. And she never said no when JD and I tag-teamed her outside or in the tub.
I mean, we were just playing with her and what she did for us was not hardcore. But it was sexual. And we are strangers. And she’s still at our house right now.
At least I hope she is. Because I don’t care if JD has her, I want her. I want my fingers inside her again. I want to kiss her sad, pouty mouth. I want to take her to bed and fuck her slowly.
Jesus Christ. What is wrong with me?
You’ve been on the job too long, Ark, the inner voice says.
And it’s true. Four years is way too long. I’m ready to get out of here.
The diner that Lanie works at is up in the western suburbs in an old downtown of a city that used to be more urban back when Denver was small. But now it’s just part of the sprawl, a place with a few old buildings so they can call it Old Town. But really, most of them were razed so they could put up townhouses and make them look old-timey, but still give them that shiny new polish in order to charge outrageous prices for units.
Lanie works at a restaurant that held firm against the developers that took over Main Street. I’m not even sure it has a name. The sign on the front says Diner in that old neon script that used to be common in the Fifties and Sixties. Lanie works breakfast and dinner every day but Monday. Which is good for me, because I’m gonna need all afternoon to get my two movies.
I ease the Jeep into the lot, park, and kill the engine. I haven’t seen her in almost a year, that’s how long it’s been since I needed help.
But I know she’ll help.
She always comes through for me when it’s about the job.
I jump out of the Jeep and hunker down into my jacket. The rain has mostly stopped, but it’s still drizzling, so I jog the few paces to the door and let myself in.
It’s busy as fuck inside. This place goes off for breakfast and dinner—which is why Lanie works those shifts. She makes a killing. She works hard for it, but she makes a killing.
I search for her familiar dark hair and when I see her joking and laughing with an older couple near the back of the restaurant, I relax a little.
Why don’t I come see her more?
My smile fades when she catches my eye and there’s a break in her fun. She narrows her eyes at me, then turns back to her customers.
I take a seat at the counter and order breakfast and ask for a paper. I have a clear view of the busy road outside, so I concentrate on that while I wait for my food and I’m almost done when Lanie finally makes her way over to me.
“More coffee, sir?”
I look up at her smiling face. “Yes, please.”
She winces at my answer but keeps it professional. “Cream and sugar?”
“Black.” I look her in the eyes for that one and she nods.
“I see you’re finished. Can I take your plate?”
“Thank you,” I say as she reaches for it. “It’s busy in here. What time does it thin out?”
I catch the swallow as she takes in my words. “About an hour,” she says softly.
I nod. “OK. Well, see you around.” I throw some bills on the counter, stand up, and walk out of the diner, again huddling into my jacket to stave off the rainy mist.
Once inside the Jeep I check the time and then decide to stop by a camera store to wait her out. Because Lanie and I have an arrangement. We don’t hang out for a reason. And even though I like her a lot and I’d love to take her out to dinner and show her a nice time, we can’t. Because no one can know who the girl in these movies is. No one can connect her to me in any way.
Otherwise, both of us could be killed.
I head east to a strip mall and park the Jeep in a spot outside a hardware store and think.
About the girl, mostly. Her hair color. Blonde. But it was a dark blonde when I saw her because it was wet. What does it look like dry? What do her eyes look like when they are not puffy from tears? What does her mouth do when it’s not downturned?
Who the fuck did this to her?
It’s an answer I think I need. I’m not even sure why, because I have not thought about shit like this for a long time now. A year, at least. Possibly closer to two.
Money does that to you. Money changes you. I said it never would, but I was wrong. Something happens when you no longer have to worry about buying food and paying rent. It’s a subtle shift. Or at least it was for me. I came to town with enough to get started, and Ray was right to be suspicious of that. He does not want to know how I got that money.
But that’s not the kind of money I’m talking about. I’m talking about enough money to buy a new car every month. Enough money to pay cash for a penthouse condo in LoDo. Enough money to set up a secret bunker filled with private servers. Buy a new ID and passport. Stash a few million away in secret bank accounts offshore.
Enough money to do whatever the fuck I want, whatever way I want.
No. No one saw that coming, not even me. When I came here I had no clue how fucking easy it would be to get lost in the business.
But that question… it’s nagging at me. Who the fuck is she involved with?