Chapter 12

Bobby and Blythe's clothes were back in place, if not their composure. Blythe's face and chest were flushed pink, her heart thundering in her ears following the abrupt end to their coupling, brought on when Barbara slammed the car door after escaping Pete's grasp.

That frustration was quickly forgotten when they saw Barbara leaning on Sammy for support, her face pale around vacant eyes, her feet hovering over the floor for a moment before she committed her weight to each step. The teens leapt to their feet.

"Are you okay, Mom?" When she didn't immediately respond, he turned to Sammy. "What happened?" he asked with icy calm.

"I'm ... I'm fine," Barbara said shakily before Sammy could reply, "thanks to Sammy."

Sammy shook her head at Bobby as if to say 'not now, ' as she maneuvered her charge onto the couch while maintaining her hug around her torso. There was an awkward silence as they all stared at the traumatized woman.

"I should probably be going," Blythe said quietly. "It's getting late; you need to take care of your mom, and I don't want my mom to worry. It's okay," she added when Bobby started to protest.

"Can I call you later?" Bobby asked.

Blythe looked up quickly at Sammy. "Um, no not this late; and my mom uses the phone for work a lot, so we don't like to give the number out."

"I've got the number," Sammy said softly. "It'll be okay," she said at Blythe's worried look.

"Just the hour after school, okay?" Blythe said. He shrugged and nodded.

He walked her to the door to say goodbye while Sammy took Barbara upstairs.

Al intentionally paused as he passed each security camera, especially the hidden ones – at least the ones he knew about. No sense giving people with jumpy trigger-fingers any reason to get excited.

The organization was on a war footing, and though there had been no attempt to breach the head man's safeguards in the high-rise hotel, no chances were being taken. On his own initiative, Al had quietly prevailed on the hotel's management to prevent any Hispanic staff from servicing the top floor, if only to protect them from being killed by an over-zealous foot soldier trying to impress the boss.

He was surprised when his knock was answered by the same under-age looking girl that had once greeted him with her low belly kitty tattoo on display. Girls didn't usually last long on the top floor before they were rotated for freshness like milk cartons in a supermarket.

This time instead of naked and stoned, she was clear-eyed and clothed in jeans and fairly conservative blouse. She immediately opened the door wide with a gesture to enter.

"Hi Al, it's good to see you again," she said. Before he could react she reached for his arm and tucked it under hers to lead him inside. She held him close enough on their walk to the living room that her thigh brushed against his at every other step.

"Ah, it's good to see you too, Kitty," he said cautiously.

She chuckled softly. "It's Carlisa, actually. Kitty's just the name I use for people that come and go."

"Okay, Carlisa it is then."

She smiled, making her look even younger – perhaps her true age, not advanced beyond her years by a hard life. "Thanks, Al, you're sweet. I'll go tell him you're here." Then she surprised him with a kiss on the cheek and a rub of his arm before heading down the hall.

Her behavior made Al nervous. The last thing he needed was the boss thinking he was sniffing around one of his women, particularly one that had survived among all the other toys played with and discarded.

He remained standing, and only a minute later Jack Polanski appeared, Carlisa holding his arm as she had Al's, but now obviously acting as a stabilizer for their coked-up leader. She led him to a couch where he unceremoniously dropped himself, nearly pulling her on top of him before she could disengage.

To Al's surprise she sat down next to his boss. Before he could ask whether she could give them some privacy, Jack barked out, "Is he dead?"

"Jesus boss, let's get Car ... uh, Kitty out of here before we talk."

"Never mind her, god damn it. Is he dead or not?"

Carlisa looked at him impassively.

"Not," he said evenly.

"Why the hell not?" he roared.

"Someone else showed up, we didn't have a clear ... situation."

"So what? Unless it was the Chief of Police, you fucking get the job done anyway."

"You're right, boss, but I saw something else that we need to talk about." He again looked pointedly at the girl by his side.

"Get on with it, god damn it!"

"Fine. I don't trust our friend that's been pushing for this job. It's never made any business sense, and all he was worried about after the hit went wrong tonight was trying to screw the kid's mother."

"So what?" he yelled again.

Al's eyebrows rose. "So how do we know if we can trust anything he says? We're at war on the word of a guy that wants us to off a teenager so he can fuck his mother."

"What are you talking about?"

"Boss, who told us the Mexicans were at the garage? The Mexicans keep saying they had nothing to do with it. Well, what if they didn't?"

"You're defending the fuckers that cut off your finger?"

"Think about it: besides him, the dad and the kid were the only survivors. Since then he killed the dad, and he's been pushing for us to kill the kid - the only remaining witness."

"Witness to what?"

"That the Mexicans weren't there that night. So doing the kid kills two birds for our friend – no surviving witnesses, and one less person to keep him off mommy.

"You're saying this was all about ... pussy?"

"If there were never any Mexican at the garage, it means daddy wasn't really in the gang either. So why did Pete want us to think he was? So we'd get him out of his way – permanently."

"That doesn't make any sense!"

Al shrugged. "Maybe he thought daddy was going to be the only casualty. Then it blew up in his face and he had to use the Mexicans to cover his tracks."

Carlisa's eyes had gotten huge. Al assumed it was in shock at the open discussion of murder going on in front of her. To his surprise she leaned over and began whispering urgently in Jack's ear, who after a moment's annoyed look began listening intently.

Eventually, he sat back and looked at Al speculatively. "Say for argument's sake you're right. What do we do about it? You want to do a cop?"

Al sighed in relief, and noticed the girl smirk at him briefly. "I got some ideas about that."

"You saying you'll take care of it?"

"Let me make a few calls. Maybe we can do this two birds with one stone thing ourselves."

"Just don't fuck it up." He got up abruptly. "I gotta get a bump and take a leak. Call me tomorrow." And just like that he was gone, leaving Al alone with Carlisa again. They regarded each other silently for several moments.

"What did you whisper in his ear?" Al asked quietly.

She looked at him appraisingly. "Why should I tell you?"

"It might help me figure out how to deal with this fucked up mess we're in."

She considered him carefully. Eventually she murmured, "He's got ears into the FBI."

"No shit? How?"

She shrugged. "An agent came to interview him. He drugged his coffee and taped him fucking me, dressed up to look like I was twelve."

"You're kidding me."

"He got me stoned out of my mind. I thought it was just some suit that wanted something kinky. The FBI could've thrown me in jail for a million years if the guy didn't fold up like a pussy when he saw the video - and I haven't touched the stuff since."

"What did the FBI guy tell him?"

"They don't believe the Mexicans were involved at the garage. The boss just blew that off, thinking he has inside information from the cop on your payroll. I pointed out to him that what you were saying was the same thing the FBI was saying." She grinned. "He's not real good at putting two and two together these days."

"Well, thanks for helping me persuade him."

She stood and moved to stand between his legs. "I had my reasons." She carefully kneeled between his feet and slid her hands up his thighs.

Al looked frantically down the hall. "Wait, are you crazy?"

"After he does some more coke he'll fuck the girl he's got back there – if he doesn't pass out before he can get it up," she said dismissively. "Listen: eventually he's going to get tired of me, like all the other girls. But when he thinks about everything I know, he won't give me away to someone; he'll probably put a bullet in my head."

She reached for and pulled down his zipper while Al stared like startled prey. She pulled his flaccid cock out, and her eyes became wide and innocent like she had thrown a switch.

"Mister, would you like to be my new daddy? I can be a really good girl." She leaned forward and practically inhaled him into her mouth, where he began hardening involuntarily. She sucked and licked until he was standing like steel.

She transitioned back into an adult expression, while her hand continued to jack him firmly. "Maybe we can help each other, Al." She stood and quickly shed her jeans and panties before placing her knees on either side of him.

Al struggled to regain his mental balance. "What did you have in mind?"

She gripped his shaft and rubbed her sex with the head. "He's going to get you killed eventually – you know that, right? He's just about lost his mind with that shit."

"I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, I'm sure the guys at the garage thought that, too."

"So?"

She lowered herself, and he clenched his teeth as he slid into her. "Oh Daddy, you're so naughty fucking your little girl like this," she said breathily.

When she came to rest on his thighs, fully impaled, she transformed again to look at him with deadly intensity. "You're next in line, Al, to either die or take over. Wouldn't you rather take over the business?"

"How do you propose I do that?"

She put her hands on the back of his head, and drew him in for a passionate kiss. She then began circling her hips and squeezing her pussy around him. She brought her mouth to his ear.

"We'll think of something."

"Hello?"

"Hey, Porter," Julie said softly.

"Oh, hi," he replied diffidently.

"What are you up to?" she asked, equivocating.

"Just watching some TV." After a long pause, he added, "I called a couple times. Mrs. Simpson said you and Dave went somewhere?"

"Dave gave me a ride to a party some old friends were having."

"Old friends?" She could hear the resentment clearly through the phone.

"Yeah. I didn't stay long though."

"Oh."

"I just said hi to some people and got a ride home. Those parties aren't really my thing anymore."

"So why'd you go?" he said petulantly.

"I don't know – maybe because someone asked me. Maybe just because I could," she said as if daring him to contradict her.

"I'm sorry, Julie. I just don't like your old friends."

"Yeah, I know that, Porter. You tell me often enough."

"Then why do you still hang out with them?"

"They're still my friends. You still have friends from before we started going out, why shouldn't – never mind." It had become an old argument for the young couple.

"I left the party so I could talk to you, Porter."

"Okay."

She took a deep breath. "You're a nice guy, Porter; the nicest guy I've ever been with. But..." Her hands twisted together. "You don't trust me. I mean, I'm afraid to talk to people that I think you might not approve of. It's like I can't be myself. I have to be someone you approve of."

"I'm sorry; I don't mean to do that to you," he said softly.

"I know you don't; I know you're my friend. I think we can stay friends, and I'll always be grateful for you helping me get my act together. But I don't think we're good as boyfriend and girlfriend."

There was a prolonged silence. "So you're breaking up with me?" he blurted angrily. "Just like that?"

"Porter, I know I'm your first real girlfriend so this may seem mean, but believe me, breaking up now is the right thing to do. If we stay together we'll start to hate each other, and we'll break up later anyway." She heard him choke back a sob.

"It may suck for a while," she continued gently, "but you'll get over it. Then you'll find a girl that's better for you." She chuckled. "Then I'll be an old friend your new girlfriend can disapprove of."

"I thought we'd be together forever," he lamented. "I mean, after what we've done together..."

She was touched, but had left that naïve view of the world behind a long time ago.

"It doesn't work that way, sweetie. Ask anyone who's married if their wife or husband was their first lover. Well, maybe asking your own parents would be too weird, but you know what I mean. You'll always remember me for being your first, and I will too. But it doesn't mean I'm the one for you. I hope we can always be friends."

"Fuck," he said miserably.