All in the Family (23 page)

“Loretta, what a nice surprise; and where is your makeup? You look rough.” Barbra answered the door, and her tactlessness shined like the morning sun. That had always been something that Loretta had appreciated about her friend, the fact that she was honest, at least with her.

“I thought I’d come by to say hi,” Loretta said. She shivered on purpose, so that Barbra would ask her to come in. “Where’s Jack?” she asked after stepping through the threshold.

“He’s at work like usual,” Barbra said with a huff. “That’s all that man does is work, work, work.”

“Have you ever considered what if he wasn’t working all the time? I mean what if he was busying himself with other activities, like
our
activities when he’s gone?”

Barbra paused at that, catching herself about to make an automatic answer, one that she would use when her mother would ask her the same thing. She had pondered it, daily even; what is a housewife to do anyway? She can’t clean house all day, it only gets
so
clean. “Yes, I’ve thought and worried about it. It’s kept me up at night, and it’s kept me from enjoying my life. To tell you the truth, I think he is up to no good I think he has always been ...” A tear ran down her cheek, and she confided in her friend the fears she had about her husband and infidelity. Sure, she messed around on him, but what if he had been messing around from the beginning? Would that change anything? Would she still be able to kiss him? Would she still think of him as her husband? Would he still be the man who held her every night and provided for her? She confessed her deepest fears, toughest regrets and darkest secrets of her past. She excused herself to the bathroom, where she closed the door and the sobs continued. She felt guilty for her own deeds, but worried something fierce about the deeds of her husband.

It was her chance. Loretta had more on her mind than coming to just say hello or upsetting her friend. She would set her friend free of this burden, allow Barbra to be herself, while clearing her own name from the record and acting like a mother to her family and protecting them.

She hurried down the hall. She knew where their bedroom was, and she knew she had to move quickly. Opening her purse, she retrieved a torn piece of cloth with bloodstains on the frayed ends. She opened the drawers of the old oak dresser, unsure of where his was. The second drawer down held men’s underwear. Beneath the underwear, she found a stack of dirty magazines. The girl on the front of the first one was young, blonde and built much like Amber. She smiled as she put the torn cloth under the stack of magazines. Served the bastard right. He should have been a better husband.

Loretta stood in the living room when her friend emerged from the bathroom. Her makeup had been removed, and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Barbra gave a half smile that faded as quickly as it had come.

“Would you like some tea?” Barbra asked, but Loretta walked toward the door.

“No thanks, sweetheart,” Loretta said, “I just remembered I left a casserole in the oven.” She let herself out and was on her way down the street before Barbra could even say good-bye. There was nothing left for her to do now but wait and hope.

The evening went by smoothly. Herman was late for dinner, but that had become his usual thing. The kids fought over who would feed Amber her meal, and the task was finally given to Bobby. Loretta slept peacefully that night.

* * * *

The sky was dark when he left. He tried to keep it that way. Herman was always a night owl, but he preferred it now that he was a man of secrets. He would have to make a long drive into the inner-city to sign papers concerning some of Frank’s money, well his money now. He drove a rented car, not wanting to drive the hearse. It was too much an eyesore in the city and vaguely depressing to anyone who had to see it. He knew that, and therefore chose to ride in style. Besides, there weren’t many times he could rent a sports car and get away with it.

He arrived at one of Frank’s offices as the sun peeked over the horizon. It lit up the city, reflecting off the smog and fog and making driving conditions less than perfect. The streets were filling up with cars, and he knew that it would be rush hour soon. He would simply have to wait it out until he could safely get the rental back home.

The office smelled of fresh cut flowers, and there was already a lot of work being done as men and women rushed by him trying to get from A to B. He took a seat nearby to the door. He was three hours early for his appointment, but he would rather be early than late. He glanced at the magazines spread across the table in the center of the sitting area, selected one and flipped through it.

“Frank? Frank where have you been?” a high-pitched female voice asked. Herman looked up, the girl doing the asking was tall and blonde and curvy. That was Frank’s kind of woman and now, Herman could see why. “Frank, I’m talking to you! Don’t just stare at me like you haven’t missed our last few dates, and why don’t you answer your cell anymore?”

“Uh, excuse me?” Herman asked, still thrown aback by the abruptness of the situation.

“You heard me, Frank. I’m not going to be just dangled on a string like some puppet. You have to show me some respect. You have to give me what I have coming to me.” The blonde continued her rant.

Herman pushed a hand through his hair. He styled it a lot more like Frank would have, and he tried to straighten his posture. There were many aspects of Frank spilling into Herman.

“Don’t act like you don’t want me,” she said. “We’ve been seeing each other for the last year. Yeah, I know about the other girls, and I’m here to tell you that they can’t do it like I do.” Her face flushed; she laid it on the line, the entire affair. She had been seeing Frank for at least a year, and she did know about his love for many women, but she felt as if she deserved better. She was the one who kept him from going off the deep end when he was at the party in Cancun, and she was the one who cleaned up after him when he would leave her house a mess after a long night of sex-filled ecstasy.

Herman finally snapped into character; it only took a second, but for him the wait had seemed like an eternity. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“When’s your next appointment?” she asked.

Herman, or rather Frank, smiled. “About three hours.”

She grabbed his hand and led him to the elevators. After the doors were closed, and they were the only ones on board, she gave his crotch a squeeze. “My office,” she said. “You’ve been a naughty boy.” Her voice melted him like sugar in the rain, and he was putty in her hands, or more like clay because he hardened, becoming ever stiffer as she massaged him.

She led him down the empty hallway to an office, her hand on the tent of his pants. The tag on the door proclaimed, Heather Follis.
Heather Flawless,
he thought,
would be a nice name for her.
Her skin was perfect, pale, but perfect. No noticeable imperfections, not even a freckle. She shut and locked the door behind them and pressed herself against him. She kissed him on the cheek and her breath smelled sweet like strawberries. She put her finger to his lips, shushed him and then lowered herself, unzipping his pants. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he moaned despite her command.

The drive home was less than eventful. He couldn’t quit thinking about the blonde. He had made another date with her for the next week, and he wanted her. Ever since he had taken Amber, he had a burning sensation, a need that fired inside, screaming to him to take the girls he saw. That was the first time he had acted on it, and it felt good. She called him Frank, and she did things to him that even Loretta had never done, things that made him feel powerful. She made him choke her, made him take her and made him take control. She didn’t have to push hard though. Just under the surface there was a beast of a man, waiting to unleash his dark and dominate side. He pulled her hair and choked her with his hands; he forced his penis into her throat and pounded her face until she vomited on the floor. He pounded her vagina; beat it like a drunken parent would beat an abused child. He took her asshole too. It felt good, and it was tighter than the overused love-hole that she called her twat. This had been one experience he would never forget. One thing that he knew would stay with him. She told him that next time she would play rough. He hoped she would.

He pulled the rental car up to the curb, and he saw police cars were parked at the end of the block. Their lights were flashing but no sirens. He was curious, though his mind was elsewhere.

Loretta met him on the porch, her mouth agape, teeth showing in a big smile. Her eyes sparkled with childish excitement, more than she’d shown in years. What had she done? She looked down the block and nearly jumped up and down when she saw the police escorting someone from the house down the way. Then she ushered him inside as if to hide. “Quickly,” she said.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“We don’t have to worry about the girl in the basement anymore.” She smiled seductively. “Are you ready for Thanksgiving?” she asked, changing the subject.

He looked at her, not wanting to question her methods or know the details, but relieved that she took care of it without prompting. He was curious however what she had planned for Thanksgiving dinner. “What are we having?”

“What do you have in the freezer?”

He smiled, “Frank did have good taste.”

She returned his smile. “Then we shall feast.”

There was a silence that came over the room, and they stood together enjoying their small victory, but knowing that there were many other battles to come if they were to keep the family alive, if they were to keep themselves above water.

* * * *

“It’s time to eat,” a female’s voice said in the darkness.

Amber moaned. She felt like shit. Her head hurt, she was dehydrated, she was weak overall and she just didn’t feel like fighting anymore. There was no reason to live; they would never let her go.

“It’s time to eat,” the girl repeated.

A plate of food was pushed toward her; she didn’t even bother to look up. Taking the slop in her fingers, she mashed it to her mouth and chewed loudly, smacking sounds coming from her lips. It tasted awful, and she knew that whatever was in it would make her pass out again, but she was starved. Unless she wanted to lie on the cold, dirt ground and starve to death, she would have to eat. The dog was gone by now. Someone had removed it, probably while she slept. The carcass had lain in the same room with her, though, for a long time. A dark and primal instinct called to her that food and nourishment lay just beyond her grasp, but she refrained from acting on it.

“It will be Thanksgiving soon,” the girl said.

Amber more or less ignored the words; otherwise, they would have cut deep like a surgeon’s scalpel. It was not something she wanted to hear. Though, she had no real family, the girls from the corners would have made sure she was taken care of Someone would have required some company on the long and sometimes lonely holiday weekend. She could have provided that, traded for some cash and a nice bed and good food. She could have even been free from that life by now. It wasn’t like hooking was something she planned to do for the rest of her life. It was just a way to get by, a way to live, but not a choice way to live. The choice way to live she had seen before. She knew what it looked like, knew what it smelled like. She thought at first that her captors had a choice life, but she could see that they were far beyond repair. In a way, their lives now were worse than her life could ever have been. At least she didn’t mutilate people for shits and giggles.

“You’ll be eating with us,” the girl said, still trying to make small talk while Amber ate.

Amber stopped shoveling food in her mouth and wanted to speak, but couldn’t remember the girl’s name. Instead she asked, “What was your name?”

The girl hesitated. An odd, several seconds of silence hung in the air. “Jessica.”

“Jessica, why won’t you let me go?”

Another odd silence hung before the answer finally spilled out. “Because I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re part of the family now, and family stays together.” The answers were simple, not requiring thought, as if they were programmed into her. Amber thought better of it, realizing that the girl really didn’t know.

“Jessica, do you think this is what I want?” Amber asked, continuing to use her name, hoping that it would pry something out of her or prod an open nerve that might spur the girl to set her free.

Jessica was quiet for a long time. “I don’t know what you want, but I have to do what they tell me. They are my parents. Don’t you have parents?”

“I had parents, but they didn’t love me.”

“Did you do what they said?”

Amber got quiet this time, thoughts of her past came rushing back to her. She remembered the way that her father beat her mother and forced himself on her. Then she remembered when her mother left her father. Those were happy times, before her mother turned to drugs and hooking. She had to pay the bills though, that’s what Amber always argued in her head. Until she met that man and ran off with him. Her mother had always tried to make her life better until then. She tried to keep her out of harm’s way, but she never prevailed; there was never any real stability to her life. She began to cry.

Jessica sat on the cold ground, not far from the girl tied to the wall. She couldn’t remember her name either, but she hoped that she could make it better. “There, there,” she said, “it will be alright. You’ll see. In a couple of days, you’ll see how everything gets better.”