“She’s not overweight, Olivia. She seems kind of …” He sucked in his stomach and his cheeks, trying to look as emaciated as possible.
She fell over laughing, holding her side—the soggy remains of her cone dropping to the dirt. “Skinny!” she screamed, pointing at him and squealing with laughter.
“Yes,” he said, grinning over at her. “Though I can’t say for sure. I only saw a wrist.”
She sat up, suddenly solemn. “Maybe she’s ano rex kick.”
“Anorexic? Hmmm … I hadn’t thought about that. Hey, what do you know about anorexia?”
She shrugged, her small shoulders scrunching. “I don’t know. Mom says Katie is that.”
Jeremy nodded, focused on his cone. “You know, Katie will be fine. She is just going through a difficult time. You can help her, you know that?”
She turned to him, her intelligent eyes narrowing. “ME?”
“Sure. You can be the best little sister in the world. That will make her happy.”
She thought about that, pursing her lips and looking away from him. “So … you want me to be a good little sister, right?”
Sensing a shift in the conversation, Jeremy grinned. “Yes. What’s your point?”
“Mom says if you were a good little brother, you’d go out with Bethany.”
Jeremy followed her finger, outstretched and insistent, his eyes finding and focusing on the leggy blond with a well-enhanced upper half. “Really? That’s what your mom said?”
Eyes wide, she nodded quickly. “Yep. Mom says we have to find a girl for you.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “One who’s not a vampire.”
He laughed, trying to stifle the sound as she fixed him with a stern look. “I appreciate your concern, but Bethany is not really my type.”
The little girl snorted, and her voice took on an authoritative tone. “Mom says Bethany is everybody’s type.”
His eyes found the blond again, traveling over her short shorts, tight shirt, and the pound of makeup that covered her face. “Well, forget Bethany. That’s not gonna happen.”
She frowned at him, and then brightened as her thoughts took a new direction. “Can I have another ice cream?”
He laughed. “No. But here, you can have the rest of mine.”
He handed the last bit of cone over to her, and looked out at the backyard of his sister’s house. “I was thinking about giving this other girl something, a present.”
Her face brightened at that. “Like a balloon?”
“Or maybe flowers.”
She frowned slightly at that. “I don’t know if vampires like flowers.”
“I don’t think she’s a vampire. I think she’s lonely.”
“Be careful Jermy. Don’t let her suck your blood.”
CHAPTER 21: SentfromHeaven
Men brag. They just can’t seem to help themselves. Even when they are paying me to spend time with them, when it is guaranteed I will ‘like’ them, they feel the need to brag. Richard is like that. He is a Senator, a position that does not impress me in the slightest, but something he is obviously over-the-moon proud about. He mentioned it in our second session, his voice a muted whisper, like there was someone in his empty house, or my lonely loft, that might hear his confession. He also mentioned it on our third, fourth, and fifth sessions, just in case I forgot it, or didn’t catch it the first time.
For a Senator, he is fucking stupid. He’s on a website that requires his credit card and tracks his IP address, and he uses a webcam, flashing his face during half the chat, when it isn’t zoomed in on his limp and uncooperative penis. I’m not ‘that girl’—I don’t have any desire to record our sessions and sell the photos to the highest bidder, but it is only a matter of time before another camgirl does. I told Richard as much. He should be cautious—use my personal site—and not mention his profession to any other camgirls. I know that advice went in one hairy ear and out the other.
Richard doesn’t have any particular sexual hang-ups or secret fetishes. I think his ego is why he logs on. It is the forbidden thrill. It is the need to have anything and everything that he wants, one of those things being the perceived worship by a naked young woman. It is just a matter of time before he is exposed, his firm stance on morality defrauded.
But not by me. Killer: yes. Exploiter of secrets: no.
CHAPTER 22: Jeremy Bryant
When the phone rang at 4:59 a.m., Jeremy lay in bed, white blankets tangled at his feet, his body stretched across the length of the bed. His room was dark, the television turned off at some sleepy moment during the night. He reached out, his hand fumbling across items until it brushed against and grabbed his cell.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know why you even bother with this, J.” The voice of his boss, rang loudly from the phone. Jeremy sat up, running his hand through his hair as he tried to wake up.
“You got one for her?”
“Yep; a small package not even worth mentioning. Why don’t you let Mark take it, or I’ll put it on your run for tomorrow.”
“No. I’ve told you before—I’ll handle it.”
The man’s voice lowered. “You know how much trouble we could all get in if corporate knew you were running these packages off the clock?”
“I know, I know. I owe you.”
“You’ve been owing me for three years. Enjoy your day off and deliver the thing tomorrow. I’ll blame the delay on Atlanta if anyone asks.”
Jeremy shook his head. “No. It’s close to the first of the month—she’ll want that package. I’ll be by there around eleven to pick it up.”
The man laughed. “Whatever, Jeremy. I’ll see you then.”
Jeremy rode the elevator up, looking at the soft package in his hand. He shook it, hearing the familiar rattle of pills. This was an old game, one he had tired of early on. It was a game that, despite his irritation, she seemed to find necessary.