A Gray Life: a novel (18 page)

October 20
th

Gloria is one strange
Chiclet. I must have mentioned this before, but she gives me the creeps, in a way that The Man never did. Sure, he was evil incarnate, but he was more than up-front about it. This lady…she’s hiding something. Being around her is like being around a timer on a switch.

Michael feels it too.
Although, he hasn’t voiced his concerns about Gloria aloud. Neither have I. I see the way he looks at her. Is it with disdain? Or is it caution, or both? All I know is that those women have been here for two days, and I wish they’d move on. Not True, but if her mom decided to leave us, I’d be able to breathe easier. Louise is either too thick or too kind to sense the strangeness of Gloria. Gloria’s stories of life on The Outside have put Louise on her side.

What’s even
weirder about that woman is that True seems to hate her too. Whenever her mother moves to touch her, True draws back. She doesn’t talk to Gloria (or anybody) from what I can tell.

Yesterday morning, I passed by their bedroom and heard whispering. There were
two
people whispering, one pleading for the other to,

“Don’t. Please, don’t. They’re nice people, and ------”.

“Shh!” the other person whispered. “Just shut the fuck up.”

I hurried away down the hallway, hoping their door wouldn’t open to discover me, the Part-Time Eavesdropper.

The door remained closed.

So True can and does talk. What was she pleading for, and why? What are these two ladies planning for us? Probably paranoid, but I’m gonna confer with Michael on all of this.

Better safe than----well, you know the rest.

* * * *

October 23
nd

After our talk about Gloria,
Michael has been acting strange around her. I know he doesn’t like her, but he wasn’t actively avoiding her before. Now, whenever they’re in the same room, he makes an excuse to leave, or tries not to look at her. Louise is either not paying attention or she doesn’t care. Most of her attentions are on making sure the girls feel comfortable here with us. She doesn’t know that the very presence of the two strangers is making Michael and me the most uncomfortable.

His
heightened state of anxiety could have to do with what I saw the other day. I was in my room getting dressed after a shower, and I looked out the window to the backyard. Michael was in the swimming pool doing laps in the late afternoon light. Gloria walked out onto the patio in a bathrobe. When she took it off, I saw that there was nothing on underneath. I really wanted to look away, but she was the first naked woman I had seen that didn’t look like a Waster. Plus, I thought what a show would start if either True or Louise walked outside just then. But I remembered that they were on the east side of the property, tending to Louise’s vegetable garden. Gloria must have known that her and Michael would have some alone time.

She dove into the water. Mic
hael didn’t stop in his swim until he got to the end of the pool. Gloria was hanging on the edge of the pool with a big smile. Of course, I couldn’t hear anything, but I could see them talking to each other. After a few sentences, Gloria swam to Michael and put her arms and legs around him. Her big breasts floated on the surface of the water. Heck, I hate the lady, but I have to admit, those things look pretty nice. Michael was lookin' at 'em too, and he didn’t push her away. They kissed and then she slipped under the water. Michael’s head went back and I could see his eyes were closed. About two seconds passed and then he seemed to come to his senses. He reached under the water to bring her up. There was more talking, with Gloria looking pissed, and then Michael got out of the water.

Gloria followed, not caring at how very naked she was. While Michael was patting himself dry with a towel, she tried to press herself against him
for a second time. He pushed her away, and she slapped him. The crazy lady stalked off as if Michael was the one who had done the hitting.

God, adults are
fricking weird.

* * * *

She remembered he liked to pinch. And bite. Not cute little love nips, either. Full, hard bites. A couple of times he drew blood. But Juniper didn’t complain. He was a friend of her boss. More than a friend. They were partners.

Juniper
knew Peter ran his own side business too. She saw him take some of her friends’ home. There were some she saw afterward, but most of the women she never saw again. Later, they were reported missing. More missing hookers that no one cared about.

Juniper wanted
her lifestyle to come to end (what sane person wouldn’t) but bossman wouldn’t allow it. He caught her hooking years ago, and she had been in his employ ever since. For his own pleasure, her boss rented her out to his friends. Peter was one of the friends who tried her out more than once.

Each time, he
drove her to the Coach Inn. Juniper hated the trips more than anything. The creep played Frank Sinatra songs the whole drive. Not like she had anything against ol’ Frank, but having anything in common with Peter meant the thing was ruined for her.

On one trip, he brought her to his home for the first and last time. They finished up late.
Peter wasn’t going to drive her home. That suited Juniper fine, because she would rather die than listen to him croon, “Fly Me to the Moon” again. Still, she didn’t want to stay overnight with him. There were other people in his house. She could feel flickers of their emotions. Their signatures weren’t strong; she figured they were upstairs, or in his basement. The feelings they were emitting left her wondering what exactly he was doing to them. Hunger, despair, terror, boredom. The missing hookers made sense, as he was probably keeping them indefinitely in his home.

Juniper didn’t wan
t to become another lost hooker. She didn’t want her life, period. Running away wouldn’t solve much. Nieto controlled a vast resource of informants, and she would easily be found. There was one way out of her life, and she found herself excited at the thought.

“Nieto’s coming to pick you up, slut.”
Peter called from his office.

Juniper was in the bathroom cleaning up. She wiped herself with toilet paper, and unconsciously looked at it. It was spotted with blood.
The bastard. She felt a soreness to match the bleeding. She wouldn’t be able to fuck for a couple of days. Nieto wouldn’t want to hear that. Well, Nieto wouldn’t be worrying about much soon.

“Okay, thanks.” She called
back in her peachy-keen voice, as if he hadn’t just degraded her by calling her a slut. Mother fucker. Or, more aptly named, slut-fucker.

Nieto came by two hours later. He honked his car horn, and Juniper met him outside.

Once she was in his car, Nieto held out his hand. “Money.”

She put three crumpled 50’s into his hand. “You really should charge him full price.”

Nieto was straightening out the bills, but he stopped when she spoke. “Excuse me?”

“He’s too rough. I won’t be able to work for a few days.”

He shook his head and resumed counting. “Don’t lie. You’re as loose as a fuckin’ goose.”

“He uses…objects. And he leaves marks on me.”
All her whining meant nothing to Nieto, but the distraction served her well. He gave her time to plan it all out, and she needed a plan.

“
Marks?” Nieto inspected her face, arms, legs. “I don’t see anything.”

“They’re under my clothes.”

Nieto sighed. “Too fucking bad. Peter wants you back next week. And he’s offering me more than full price. You’re gonna be
his
girl now.”

A static hum thrummed in the car,
and Nieto was accustomed to receiving from his top earner. He wouldn’t miss the noise. Often, he wondered what the noise was, but it only happened when Juniper was angry, so he let it slide.

“You can’t sell me to your
goddamn friend. I’m a person.”

Slap. Slap. Slap. The blows came fast and hard to Juniper’s face. She was angry, but he was angrier.

“The fuck?” He slapped her again. “You have no rights. You’re a woman, and I can do what I want to you.” An idea came to him then, one that would help in ending his life. “Get in the backseat.”

Juniper
didn’t argue. His red center of pleasure throbbed. Slapping her (hurting her) had all been part of his plan. Hurting her in other ways would get him off even further.  She climbed over the middle console to get to the back seat. Nieto followed. With one hand, he put the seats down. With the other hand, he undid his belt. Busy as he was, he managed to catch a look at Juniper’s expression.

Her face was still burning where he had slapped her. Similarly, her eyes were just as red. Not from tears, but from anger. The humming seemed to fill up the
car, and Nieto’s head as well. His skull pounded. Juniper’s killer stare probably had something to do with hit.

“Remember I have a gun.
If you forget, remember I can lock you away for a long time. Then, you can have some Big Bertha be your Lady Boss.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, you will.”

Unexpectedly, his hand went up her skirt to yank at her underwear. He was satisfied when they ripped apart. The pink and yellow remains of her unmentionables were held up in his hand. Nieto smiled.

“Man, those came off easy. Jump on, slut.”

Juniper sat still.

Then she said, “I need something first.”

She mov
ed toward the front seat. On the seat sat her purse. Both her hands rustled around inside the bag when Nieto asked,

“Is it coke? No, you need lube.” He laughed.

To make things worse for himself, he smacked her bare ass.

Juniper laughed too, but for different reasons. She found what she had been looking for
all right. With little hesitation, she turned to drive a knife upward into Nieto’s side. His body froze up. His laughter choked off into silence.

Since she
began involuntarily working for him, Nieto instructed her to carry a weapon with her at all times. 

“A kitchen knife will do,” he had said, “but it has to look serious. No butter-knife-bullshit. Five or six inches long at least.
Just in case.”

This was not her first time pulling out the knife. Although, it was her first time using it. It felt like a ‘just-in-case’ sort of moment to Juniper.

“Anyone messes with me, gut ‘em like a fish, you said.” Juniper reminded Nieto.

Her hand was still on the knife. She nestled it inside of him deeper. In a swift pull, Juniper dragged the knife across his
midsection . Nieto’s intestines flooded out of his abdomen like angel hair pasta. In a pathetic attempt, he tried to catch them. Tired arms swung ineffectually at nothing. His organs ended up spread on the floor of the car.

“What. What. What.” Nieto kept repeating.

His eyes stared at Juniper with dumb disbelief. Nieto looked like a dog who knew it was being taken into the vet for the final shot. And his red center was dimming…dimming….Nieto fell back and the light went out completely.

Getting rid of a dead cop in front of another cop’s house wasn’t easy. Juniper considered implicating
Peter in the death, but she was panicking. Also, she had no time for extreme ideas in answer to her first murder. Nieto’s car had been parked in front of Peter’s house for 20 minutes thus far. She had to leave.

Juniper drove the car to an empty industrial parking lot in the city. Using her shirt, she wiped the car of all possible finger prints. On the dashboard and Nieto’s stricken face, she spread specs of cocaine for good measure, and she robbed him of his wallet (because the bastard owed her, even in death). Inside, she found almost two grand. She must have caught him on a pick-up night.

Two days later, the car and Nieto’s body were discovered. No suspects were named in the ensuing investigation. Nor were any details of his evisceration released. Peter was no dummy; privately, he discussed his list of suspects (Juniper, Juniper, and Juniper) with his colleagues. Some of his fellow officers knew Juniper’s true motive, and others assumed it was an undercover operation that had gone awry. In any case, Juniper’s description was passed around to the various factions of Peter’s police department. Juniper found all of that out a week after the murder. She was no dummy either.