Lucy Allen Seabolt / Martin and /Rita
Jerome Morris the director of vocational education for the Cleveland school system
Bobbi James the radio personality
Amos Hardee deputy sheriff
Lori Moore deputy sheriff
Marcus hostage taker
Sara Thomas newspaper writer
I had been home three months when I woke to a chill in the air. It was November so it was about time for the first morning chill. It was getting cooler every morning for a month, but nothing like the drop from a low of forty eight degrees the day before to forty degrees that morning.
It was warm in my bed. It was just cool outside of it. Yes I was tempted to stay in bed. If I had been with someone, I might have. Even though my bed was only a few inches wider than my prison bunk, it was a damn sight more comfortable. The bed had two sets of springs. One was in the box spring part of the bed. The mattress also had an inner spring. Both parts of the set were extra firm, and that was really comfortable on my broken down body.
I finally found the courage to get up and go to the bathroom. It wasn’t cold just chilly. After the bathroom, I heated the day old coffee in the worlds smallest microwave oven. I checked my email while I finished it off. Once the last of yesterdays coffee was in he microwave, I made the new days brew.
Lucy had bought me the generic coffee maker and blended the coffee for me. She mixed Maxwell house original recipe with a house brand blend of some kind of Colombian stronger coffee. The two mixed together was very good, so I didn’t see any reason to change it.
Since the trailer was still chilly, I dressed for the day rather than wait till after breakfast. It was a good thing I did. Rita knocked on my door.
“What can I do for you so early in the morning? You want some breakfast?” I asked.
“No thanks I’ve already eaten. I need your help,” Rita said. “It’s mom.” She said it as she seated herself at the tiny table were I took my meals.
“What’s up with the two of you?” I asked.
“She freaked out because she found a picture of me with Robbie my boyfriend,” She said.
“First of all how old are you?” I asked.
“I’m almost sixteen,” she said.
“How old is this Robbie?” I asked.
“He is in college. I’m not exactly sure what his age is,” she said looking at the floor.
“You probably are a little young to be dating a college boy,” I suggested.
“That wasn’t why she freaked out,” she said. “We were kind of involved.”
“Involved in what?” I asked. I saw the look she gave me. “Oh you mean sexually involved. Tell me how graphic was the picture.”
“It was just oral sex,” she said.
“Oh it was just oral sex.” I said. “So what do you expect me to do about it, other than not be shocked when I see it.”
“You won’t see it. You don’t check my phone. Robbie sent me the picture, I looked at it with mom in the room. She was passing by and saw it,” Rita said.
“Surely, you can understand your mother’s being freaked out,” I said.
“I guess but she is so angry I’m afraid she will put me under house arrest or something. Can you talk to her. It was really nothing,” Rita tried to explain.
“No, I can’t tell her to calm down. This really is a big deal. This shit will come back to haunt you. If you keep making porn your friends are likely to avoid you. Kids all want to fit in. Giving guys blow jobs on film is not normal. Their parent are not going to like it. That shit will get around. Tell me, did he send that image to anyone else.”
“I don’t know,” she said looking down.
“I have a Sheriff’s deputy who owes me a favor. I can find out, and then your mom can have Robbie charged with statutory rape,” I said. So you need to tell me the truth, so we can make a decision and try to do the right thing.”
“Please don’t let her have Robbie charged with anything. I told him I was eighteen. He doesn’t know I am only fifteen,” Rita said.
“He can get a good attorney and get it tossed even if she does. You are so close to sixteen that he should be able to get away if this, if he pulls the photo from anywhere he has posted it. I assume this was a one off?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” she said.
“Then my advice is to lie. Tell your mom you don’t even remember it. You aren’t even sure it isn’t photo shopped.” I suggested.