Chapter 8: A Good Day

On waking up, after the performance she put on with those two fat ugly Indians, she curled up into herself. As it all came back to her she cried and cried and cried some more until she just ran out of water to make tears and still she wanted to cry. She definitely didn’t want to ever see another human being again. She wanted to die.

Her cell phone rang. She didn’t bother with even getting up to look at it. It rang six times then stopped.

Ten minutes later the cell rang for six hits then stopped. It continued every ten minutes. She became frustrated enough with the phone ringing in the kitchen and irritating her In bed that finally she got up to shut the dam thing off.

She didn’t mean to know who was calling but couldn’t help but see the last caller alert pop up. It was the chief. There was a text. She opened it up, ‘Call me asap’. She didn’t want to. She scrolled to see how many texts he’d sent her. There was only the one.

She went back to calls to see how many times he had called her. There was only once. Every call that had come in was from a different number. A lot of people called her number and dropped the call on six rings. This was no coincidence.

She had been told in no uncertain terms. When the chief phoned, texted or sent messages she was to act as if they were from God. Because in her world he was. She better drop whatever she is doing and gets back to him when he reaches out or their deal would end.

Mary Jane hit send, “Oh, great to hear from you. We have been calling all morning. Listen, the Lionesses need your help today. They are the volunteers who take care of the children on Sundays so parents can attend whatever service they like or just have a break.”

“We are understaffed today. We need your help. This will be the perfect opportunity for you to meet some other women your age in our tribe. A driver should be knocking on your door any minute. Get ready, you will be spending the day at the park with tribal children. Chop chop.” And he hung up.

Mary Jane never got a chance to say anything. There was a honk from a car. To pick her up? There was a crash at the door like someone had kicked it hard. “Hey! MJ you home, the kids are waiting, let’s go!”

He banged even harder on the door. She had to open it to stop him.

It was Frank, a grinning Frank, he stepped in, grabbed her shoulders, spun her around, patted her on the bottom told her to hurry up. “Suntan lotion, sundress and sandals, you don’t need makeup with kids. Let’s go!” He encouraged.

She was stunned. She found herself in her makeup chair in her ensuite washroom. Looking into the mirror wondering what is happening here?

Frank came in behind her. Eighteen-year-old ruggedly handsome Frank came into her room. He walked up behind her looking at her eyes in the mirror. He was smiling. He reached under her arms and lifted her to her feet.

She was wearing a buttoned-down pyjama top. Frank lifted it from the bottom, she raised her arms and he brought it over her head and down her arms. He grabbed her suntan lotion on the counter and began to rub it in, everywhere he found skin.

He pulled the chair out from behind her as she watched him in the mirror. He set the chair aside then reached forward and slid her pyjama bottoms down. She was wearing grandma panties. A way of hiding her shame. He slid those down as well.

He rubbed the suntan oil everywhere here as well. He paid special attention to her vulva. He was gentle. He didn’t stir any sexual feelings at all. She was dead. Watching through the mirror. Observing this happen to someone else. She wanted to die.