PART TWO i – the Bad Thing

  We went outside my room, and went into actually Lightning's room. Where we could have a quick word, if we kept our voices low for privacy.

  He looked at me, and I just looked back at him. I shrugged, and he waited until I spoke.

  "I don't know how the hell you just did what you did, but…"

  "Am I in trouble?"

  "Hmm. If you want to be in trouble, for fun, because I now owe you big? Yeah. Big, big trouble. Other than that? Thanks."

  "That's a load off. Now. Jokes aside. Please tell me you have a much clearer picture of what was going on."

  "Oh… holy shit. How in the hell, did you know to fish around, and there was more. Lots more."

  "Anytime its bad. And I mean real bad. The perpetrator… even when they’re confessing? They can't just dump it. They start. Then you stay with them, and each time they give you more… more… until you get the whole story."

  "She's the victim. Not some perpetrator."

  "Doesn't matter that way. Its real bad, she couldn't tell it all in one dump. She gave us a once over, then… you heard it. Now? You got a better picture of what actually went on."

  "Do I ever. Holy shit."

  I squinted at him.

  "How did you know there was more?"

  "Uh. I picked up a few things that stood out. Had a few hunches. Knew a few things. It all added up. Now. You do understand the significance of… a few drinks does nothing one time, suddenly she can't handle her liquor the next, right."

  "They… got her bckout drunk for… big nights."

  "No. Notice. Same couple drinks, does nothing much. Suddenly? It goes bonkers."

  "Slipped a mickey?"

  "Date rape drug. Understand now?"

  "Yeah…"

  "Now. All the other times. She suddenly has her couple drinks, and remembers nothing. But the st time. You understand the significance of that? Remember, it ended after the st time. And? Her mom was pissed."

  "That… confuses me. You know something."

  "I do. They got used to a certain drug that normally does works perfect. But… certain common things a person might eat or drink? Can counteract the effects. That st time? She had one of those things. Typically? They're still incapacitated. They appear the same to the people using it. But… they remember and see? Everything."

  "What drug would counteract it? Vitamins?"

  "I think I know. Surprisingly common."

  "You know far too much about… date rape drugs. Can I look forward to waking up in handcuffs, being vioted?"

  "Not unless you want that sort of thing."

  "Hmm. Do you have a… coherent plot line to give me? The outline."

  "Yeah. Dancer girl. Gold digger mom. Tall for her age, passes for older. Boys like watching her dance."

  "I got that much."

  "Next step. Mom’s obviously living on… welfare, child support. Alimony. Each husband, gets her better alimony. Goes by income."

  "Got that much. Standard gold digger operating manual."

  "Yeah. Then? Suddenly… we switch from rich girl clothes, to… hooker outfits. Starts pushing car dates with as old of kids as she can. No rubbers. Jesus doesn't like rubbers. Plot line here?"

  "Just tell me."

  "Two parts. Part one. Kid. Driving pricey new car. Sports car, or luxury sedan. Dad has the cash."

  "She's bait… for her to… date dad."

  "She dates the rich dad, with disposable income. On the side. The mistress. Then, she has leverage to ask for stuff. Not to tell the wife. My guess."

  "Okay. Why the change?"

  "The other pn? Get her pregnant. To… a kid with a rich dad. The child support would be good, double the welfare. Rich dad would stop at nothing to take care of… his grand kid. Her, and her teenage daughter? Would have a nice safety net."

  "Okay. What changed."

  "She wasn't finding single dads. Which is what she wanted. Did you notice, she sent her out. Allowed to drink. Allowed out with 20 year old's at keg parties. Dressed like a hooker, to dance for the boys?"

  "Mom had her asking for it."

  "Yeah. Then? Mom found her the perfect boyfriend."

  "The rich guy. Divorced. Megabucks."

  "Yeah. Now, this time? Mom moved in first, and was making daddy happy. But, daddy had a son. That had issues dating."

  "Okay…"

  "Why would the son of the richest guy around, decent looking. Have any trouble dating? Hmm?"

  "He… likes to get drunk and sp girls."

  "You're not reading between the lines. He gets drunk, and…"

  "Date rapes them. The girls all know."

  "The older girls know. Not a 14 year old."

  "Mom wants her to date the kid… keeps her sort of with the dad…"

  "More to it, than that."

  "What?"

  "Mom dressed her as a hooker. He had his 14 year old girlfriend. Who dresses like a hooker for date night, as the mother dressed her, trying to get her pregnant. Dancing… for… his… friends. She admitted, bump and grind. Which, is Latin for…"

  "He had her py stripper dancer. For everybody. Garage, warehouse."

  "Uh huh. He was charging admission. Speakeasy selling booze. Cocaine sales, too. Hot dancer girl, was icing on the cake."

  "Holy shit. I see that. What happened?"

  "I'm thinking. You're already selling cocaine. Speakeasy. Stripper dancing. What's left?"

  "Oh… you say it."

  "He gets her a couple drinks. Date rape drug in it. She gets fucked by everybody, all night. Money per head. Guys are drunk. You seen how she moves. Picture her in a wham bam and hooker boots, working a pole. Young, looks older. No… they lined the fuck up, for a piece of that."

  "She wakes up. Must have had a few extra drinks… my boyfriend fucked me, which he does anyways."

  "Notice how he routinely smacks girls around?"

  "Yeah…"

  "After a couple dates, getting cracked is routine. Hey… dance! She dances."

  "Yeah. I get that."

  "He's not just having fun in a one car garage. This? Was a business. Underage illegal bar. Dancer. Coke for sale. Now? Prostitute. Hey guys? Drunk, coked up. Hundred bucks? I can make that girl? The one that drives you crazy? I can make that happen."

  "Yeah… mother?"

  "Oh. Forgot. You might wonder the significance of how all of a sudden, mom started kicking her around, concentrating on the stomach."

  "Yeah. You spent a lot of time on that."

  "Its how you beat a whore. You can't mark the face up. You can't mark her ass up. Few bruises on the tummy? Fine. Daughter compins? Uh uh. Mommy can handle it."

  "Oh…"

  "She says one word, at dinner at the rich guys house? She's taken into the back room. Kicked around until she shuts up and flies right. Agrees to the next date. Then? Gets dragged back to the table, to show she's learned her lesson."

  "Dad… in on it?"

  "He can't not know what's going on. Kid's pushing coke for dad."

  "Dad… is a business man."

  "Every small town? Has some so called business man… who thinks he can do what he wants. Its not mafia, but… the joke is they call it… little mafia. Town only."

  "Hmm. Mister Big. Expins why his kid could sp girls around, and make them put out. Cops are cooperating."

  "On the payroll. Any small town with this? The locals are the best money can buy. Cops? Probably got free coke… free ones with girls… standard. Chief? Gets a cut."

  "Everything was going fine. They were making money. Added a dancer to the cocaine and under the table booze sales. Now… prostitution. Special nights only."

  "They lined the boys up, on a schedule. Mark my words on it. Remember what she said. 12 to 14 hours. Drove around. All night. That st one? She… remembered. She had something that let her see and hear, and remember."

  "Wait. That, was the night her mom was mad."

  "Kicked her around the front porch. Mom was mad, the money train was ending. Daughter knows, game's over."

  "Wow. I see your plot line now. I knew the mom was bad, but…"

  "She pimped her daughter out, when she wouldn't get pregnant to the right guy quick enough."

  "How in the hell, do you know how to beat an underage whore, so it works and the johns don't mind."

  He just stared at me.

  "You puked."

  "Hell yeah… just… imagining what that night's memory was. It…"

  "I taught the rape prevention csses. I puked a couple times. I'm the guy that feels creepy, banging a teenybopper. Which is just standard fun, and the girls even like it. What do you think, hearing violent gang rape stories out of the screaming and crying victim's mouth was like for me. You get used to it. You don't puke anymore."

  "She escaped."

  "She did. Her mom was so mad, she lost her cash cow…"

  "She kicked her around, like a red headed stepchild, every time she won a game."

  "Yeah. Until? One fine day."

  "I'm leaving. Hey, mom? I love you."

  "Yeah. Good for her."

  "I'm gd it ended."

  "Oh. You ain't ready for the best part."

  "There's more?"

  "She wasn't the first girl. She won't be the st. Right now, this very second? I go to that town. Hit the bars… fsh some cash… I like to have fun… there's a speakeasy. For after hours. Most small towns have one. Cops get their cut. Hell, my town had one. There's a new and maybe improved or not as good but passable… Little Lightning. Same thing, new girl."

  "This is all… routine to you…"

  "The fun of being associated with the cops, intimately. Working with rape victims. The rehabilitated hookers? Run through rape csses. Between the MP's, and those girls, and the rape victims… I puked until I couldn't puke anymore. You get over it. Yeah… its standard operating procedure. You get one girl out of the life? Two more get into it. Some pimps? Buy illegal Latinas. One or two girls I dated? Had been one. What you hear? Makes you want to…"

  "Yeah. So, what do we do?"

  "Like I told her. One day, people like that? Run across the right person… and… they get theirs."

  "And who is that guy?"

  "Oh. Whoever. You never know. Karma is a bitch. They attract it. They'll piss off the right divorced dad, eventually. A guy who has nothing to lose."

  "Not you."

  "You know me, hun. I avoid conflict, until it comes to my front door. Even then? I wait until there's no other option. Here? I have options."

  "What are these options."

  "Military police."

  "In Texas. This is the Midwest."

  "MP's are federal. They can call state police… FBI… find a sympathetic ear. Someone who wants to hear my very true but off the record story. Pointed in the right direction, where a beautiful sting is lined up, waiting for them. Local mafia rich business owner. Speakeasy, cocaine sales, prostitution, rape, underage rape… dirty cops and chief. Find the right guy with a hard on wants to make a name for himself? You get somewhere."

  "You think you can make this happen?"

  "I make some calls. I ask a few favors in. I start the process. In the end? I go meet someone. Give them the whole story, off the books. They know where to look to find their big case. They can call my credentials, my MP's, to back me up as a credible source. I say its true, its true. Other badges are asked, say it? Yeah. They'll trust it."

  "I…"

  "Can you help her? Now, that you have the true story."

  "Hmm. I wondered about you."

  "What."

  "How in the hell you guessed she was raped, without a word from me."

  "You wonder why I didn't want to be an MP? Or… just go to college, get my degree. Look for a decent girlfriend. I can't deal with all that. Not for a living."

  "But… you can do it. This one st time?"

  He looked towards her room, then back to me.

  "One time. For a hobby. Sure. Conditions."

  "Name them."

  "You can… fix her?"

  "I think so. Now that I know what actually happened? Yeah. She'll… start growing again, so to speak."

  "Another condition."

  "Name it."

  "One day. I'm going to get a good email, or phone call back. You know, the right one. I'm going to have to leave. For a meeting. Then? Go find the next contact… tell him. You get the idea. It will take as long as it takes. I'll drive my bike around."

  "You asking for permission to leave? To set it up, meet the right people, meeting by meeting."

  "Yeah. When I leave? Its a secret. This is off the books. I'm handing undercover cops, once I find the right ones? Stuff they need pointed to, in the right direction. Cover story? Hunting trip. Something like that. You'll know to not question my story."

  "Oh. Permission granted. If you can get people to help shut this shit down from happening all over again."

  "Its been happening. Off and on, for five years now. Last thing."

  "Name it."

  "I need the target. When you go over this real story, again and again. Get the town name. Then get the name of the business, the rich guy owns. Get his name, the kid's name, the mother's name. Another time? Near the end… you get what the business is. You put all that information? Aside. For me. And one more thing."

  "That? Done. What else."

  "I want that miniskirt. Don't burn it. Put it back somewhere. In the end? I'm going to leave it. As my calling card."

  "Oh. Ha ha. You remember this? Suck it."

  "Something like that. Put it back. Now… are you going to let Lightning give you a different wham bam and ripped up shirt?"

  "You want me to have a get lucky outfit."

  "I do. The fact it was that same mini aside? Was that not hot?"

  "In time, in another wham bam? Sure. I owe you."

  "No. I owe you. Just take care of her."

  "My conditions."

  "Name them. Whatever you want."

  "You? Have to be there for therapy sessions. This didn't happen, a hundred times, until you were there. Then? You got the first story. Then? You got the real story. I obviously need you. Every session."

  "Done. Bring a puke bucket."

  "For you or me?"

  "Me, you, her… whoever needs it."

  "This is disgusting."

  "Its… real life. It ain't pretty. Its out there. Its why we teach our daughters? What not to do, what they're not allowed to do… then? They go and do it. Naturally."

  "Speaking of daughters. I'm getting worried. About Miss Moody. She's been gone too long. No texts or phone calls tely."

  "Last call or text, went well."

  "I thought so. When you coming home. We miss you."

  "Answer?"

  "I'll be home when I'm home. Its summer."

  "She done this before?"

  "Sort of. Yeah. Maybe this is a new record, but… yeah."

  "We call the parents, or… we contact the police. Missing persons."

  "If she's holed up with some… guy on probation? I don't wanna fuck her shit up, fuck his shit up. Cops."

  "Its your daughter. Its you, head of household. You say when? We do it. You say wait? We wait."

  "Every day, it gets a little more…"

  "Yeah. I don't really miss her, but…"

  "Okay. Is she an asshole? Yes. But… she's our asshole."

  "You call what day, is one day too many. You know her. Your daughter. Are we ready, to…"

  "Are we done with…"

  "Interrogating the victim? Yes. You need anything?"

  "Need? No. Want…"

  "What do we do."

  "Just… normal time. Make sure she's on an even keel."

  "Let's go."

  Little Lightning was doing, all things considered? Stelr. Was she 100 percent herself? Hell no. But, an outsider would just think she had gotten a bad grade on a quiz, a minor tiff with a friend, like that. Me, him, Light and Right too, we all spent the day together. Light and Right even developed or I should say redeveloped, their "Hurr Durr" back and forth.

  "Now. Right? Why did I walk home, myself. Where were you. I thought, and correct me if I'm wrong here… we were done, and we’re both breaking up. I finally got called a whore one too many times. And you?"

  "I got called a serving wench. Which is better than a whore."

  "Oh yeah. A serving sve? So… much better."

  "Still. I wanted to see if I could… salvage things any."

  "Oh yeah. What did you manage to salvage, huh?"

  "I… made burgers again. For everyone."

  "Yeah. Because you and your feminist shit. Making burgers, being called a serving wench, fetching beers on command. That's, like, so much up your alley."

  "Odd you put it like that. As a serving wench? I did get… up my something. Before I left."

  "Up your what?"

  "Why waste one more time, to remember my guy by."

  "And, what do you remember."

  "Turns out serving wenches? Are good for more than fetching beers."

  "This ought to be good. What else are they good for."

  "I might have had… bum fun. Before I left. For good. I was right behind you, just… a few hours ter. That's all."

  "Sounds like you were fetching beers, and he was right behind you."

  "Maybe he was. But? I backed you up, just a little te. I was home asleep, before you got in."

  "Sounds like you backed up into him. Just saying."

  "I wanted something memorable. To remember him by. Sue me."

  "Oh. All that talk about feminist stuff, and you stayed behind to what? Make burgers for a house full of Army boys. Liked getting called a serving wench. Fetching beers. And get banged in your ass. Oh, the modern independent woman, she strikes a blow. Me? I got tired of getting called a whore."

  "You? Are just jealous, you didn't get bum fun."

  "I can get all the bum fun I want. And? So can your ex fag, I might add."

  "You leave him out of this!"

  "Okay. But, his boyfriend's cock? Stays in his ass. Just saying."

  Me and my boyfriend? We're used to listening to this, but you kind of learn to tune it out. You tune in now and again, and you hear something to chuckle over. Then? You tune back out again. Right ended up going over to another girl's townhouse. Me and Light and him decided to go for a walk. We stopped on the trail, and we were gabbing. I ended up reminding her about her promise, about keeping secrets. She smirked, and reminded me. I hold the greater secrets on her, than the reverse.