Ribbons (14 page)

18

Foster wasn’t very good at social media. He also didn’t use the site that most people used.  He had three friends who followed him, but he was pretty sure two of them weren’t real people. One “friend” was called ShakespearDisciple. He posted quotes from the Bible rearranged into iambic pentameter. ShakespearDisciple had thousands of friends and had been a featured contributor promoted on the log-in page, which was how Foster had found him. Another was called Kothlar. He had found Foster somehow. He kept sending Foster messages in broken English about great websites that promised all kinds of things to ensure that his penis would be “3inch maxibig,” would have “formidable uptime,” and that there would be “no more boxing the Jesuits.” The public library computers blocked all those websites, though, so Foster would have to make due with his current penis. He was pretty sure he could hold his own against a Jesuit in a fair fight, anyway.

CandyCaneCandice was a real person. She was the reason Foster created an account in the first place. He liked to check in to see what Candice was doing occasionally. He never posted or sent her messages. He wouldn’t know what to say. Plus, all her other friends seemed to have just the right clever response or inside joke to post. He was pretty sure anything he posted would be glossed over and forgotten immediately. He hadn’t checked in on Candice since she had gotten him fired from the Tail Spin. To his surprise, she hadn’t un
f
riended him yet. Maybe she’d forgotten.

Candice didn’t post a lot, just the occasional selfie along with her work schedule. There were no posts about the night she yelled at Foster in the women’s restroom. She did make a post the night after, though. Foster clicked on the picture to get a better view. Candice and another dancer stood chest to chest. They were both topless, but their bodies were pressed together in a way that hid their nipples. Candice was holding the other dancer’s hip with one hand while she made bunny ears with the other. They were both puckering their lips for the camera.

The post below the picture read,
Come make a sandwich with us tomorrow night at the Tail Spin! Two-for-one lap dances until midnight! We’ll be the bread; you can be the meat!

She certainly didn’t seem disturbed at all by the previous night’s freak-out. The event that had changed Foster’s life wasn’t even hinted at in her eyes. He stared at them for a long time to make sure.

Foster got some odd looks from one of the librarians as he sat there. She pushed along her cart and stopped every few paces to restack a book or two. Each time she started pushing her cart again, she would look at Foster and squint, obviously hoping to catch him in some kind of heinous act. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, though. Not yet.

The Woman in the Garden had him walk to the library instead of taking the bus, which was fine; he needed to stretch his legs. He had been practicing more with the pen, and all the practice made his wrist stiff and his feet sore, so he was glad to get out of the TV room. He was getting good, though. New lines. New swirls. New patterns. It was like typing on a keyboard. When you typed, words became patterns that your fingers just knew how to make without thought or concentration. His lines were starting to get like that.

She had made him take a watch with him on his walk. She had given him a list of street names and told him to write down the exact times when he was supposed to walk from one street to the next. The path wasn’t straight, and he often found himself doubling back for no good reason. Sometimes he walked down a street that he could have sworn hadn’t been there before. It all seemed ridiculous to him, but she was pretty insistent on sticking to the directions. She and her owl stared at him with big, unblinking eyes and made him promise to follow the schedule. He did and hadn’t asked any questions. At exactly 12:03 p.m. he had started walking his cryptic route toward the library. He had arrived at the library at precisely 1:47 p.m. She’d said he could take the bus home as long as he stayed in the library the whole time and then ran out to catch the bus at 3:17 p.m.

He looked at his watch. He still had another forty-six minutes.

He clicked on Candice’s news feed. It listed posts from people she followed, things she’d “liked,” and when somebody else mentioned her in his or her posts. According to her friend, AbjectErica, she and Candice were out on the Strip at that very moment. Apparently, AbjectErica was much better at social media than either he or Candice were. AbjectErica had 23,267 friends, but you didn’t have to be her friend to view her posts. They were open to just anybody.

AbjectErica listed her “likes” as the Golden Delicious, the Tail Spin, and Lashtastic Dungeon Supplies. There was a link to each, but just like the helpful links from Kothlar, each of these links were blocked by the public library system. Foster scrolled through her posts for the day and stopped at the first one that mentioned Candice.

AbjectErica – 5 hours ago

This week is so fired! New boss started off as a douche and just keeps getting douchier. It’s like he’s been practicing! I may need to start looking for a new place to set up shop. Anybody have a dungeon for rent? ;-) Also, had a fight with my girl. :-( Couldn’t sleep last night … in a bad way. I’m hoping breakfast on the Strip with CandyCaneCandice will help me take my mind off things. Will post pics! #WhereIsMyDramaflage

67 Likes

Comments

CandyCaneCandice:

Looking forward to it! LOL

OrganiGasm:

There are plenty of fish in the sea.

AbjectErica:

Oh yeah? Are there plenty of perfect, glowing, goddess fish in the sea?

OrganiGasm:

Who is this mystery girl? Can I meet her?

AbjectErica:

Sure. Just go rob a 7-Eleven. She’ll find you.

JackOnJackOff:

I have a sorrow boner for you :-(

QuiteContraryMary:

You seem like such a normal girl.

AbjectErica:

Yes, I do seem that way. ;-)

Foster clicked
Like
because it seemed like the thing to do. His gaze shifted to AbjectErica’s profile picture. She was looking up at the camera and giving more of a smirk than a smile. If you took away the lip ring and half the eye shadow, she looked just like a dancer who used to come in when he’d first started working at the Tail Spin. She’d gone by just Erica back then. Foster couldn’t remember why she left.

He scrolled to the next post. This one had a picture at the top. Erica and Candice stood side by side with the Strip in the background. Erica was holding Candice close as she bit Candice’s ear lobe. Candice was smiling and trying to pull away. A man and woman, obviously tourists, were walking past behind them. The man’s head must have spun around to check them out right when Erica was taking the picture. His eyes were clearly focused on Erica’s ass.

AbjectErica – 4 hours ago

Pre-brunch snack! CandyCaneCandice is salty-sweet! What buffet should we go to? Must include mimosas. We’ll bring the eye candy! #HideYourHusbands

103 Likes

Comments

SnakeEyed69:

I HEART CandyCaneCandice!!!

AbjectErica:

Come see her tonight at #TheLandingStrip

This time Foster didn’t click
Like
. He wasn’t sure he liked this at all. Candice was carrying on like she
hadn’t
just destroyed a man’s life. In fact, she and her friend seemed like they wanted to find somebody else to toy with. Somebody they could pretend to be friends with before reducing him to tears in a bathroom stall as he knelt in jizz and soapy water. Foster looked for a “Hate” button but couldn’t find one.

The next post was worse. Erica sat at a restaurant table in the picture. It looked like a nice place—vases of fresh flowers decorating tables with crisp white table clothes—but Erica looked sloppy drunk. Her eyelids seemed uneven, and her sundress was slipping off one shoulder. Candice must have taken this picture because Erica’s hands were occupied. One was holding a champagne glass at an alarming angle; the other was grabbing the ass of a passing waiter. The waiter looked surprised, and it wasn’t clear if he was going to be able to keep his serving tray balanced.

AbjectErica – 3 hours ago

On the one hand I’m completely drunk … End of story. #CantUseMyWords

74 Likes

Comments

BatCountry:

I’ll finish that story for you. I promise you a happy ending ;-)

MyPrettyZombie:

Hope you left him a good tip!!!

AbjectErica:

Words … words … words …

“Well, that waiter probably lost his job!”

Foster must have said it out loud because the librarian looked up from her cart to glare at him. She shelved another book without taking her eyes off him. There was almost nobody else in the library, so he wasn’t sure whose sensitive ears she was trying to protect. That reminded him: he wanted to check out a couple of storybooks before he left. The Woman in the Garden had started another project in the TV room, and they had used up all the books they could find at the orphanage.

He still had some time, so he went back to Erica’s posts. The next one in the list had another picture. This one looked like it was taken at the same restaurant, only this time the view was from underneath the table with the crisp white tablecloth. Erica’s legs were spread apart, pulling the fabric of her sundress tight. The camera flash washed out the picture but lit up Erica’s hot-pink panties nicely. Silk, based on the glare of the light reflecting off them. The dimple in the center of the panties made Foster forget that he was angry for a second. He almost missed Erica’s hand under the table flipping him the bird.

AbjectErica – 3 hours ago

See! I DO wear panties … sometimes. CandyCaneCandice forgot them today #CamelToe

223 Likes

Comments

OMGinMyPants:

Mind = blown. But not like a bomb. Like a blowjob!

8InchesLimp:

I want to do bad things to you. Butt things.

AbjectErica:

We’re having a sale on bad things at #TheGoldenDelicious. Butt things cost extra …

Candice must have taken that picture, too. At least she hadn’t posted a picture of her own legs spread apart. Had she? Foster looked. No. He looked again. Still no. That was a relief . . . Right?

The next picture was of Candice, but she was no longer at the restaurant. It looked like she had hailed a cab on the Strip and was just about to get in. She had stopped to turn toward the camera and blow Foster a kiss. She was still thinking about him. He knew it.

AbjectErica – 30 minutes ago

Bye CandyCaneCandice! Thanks for holding my hair back for me in the ladies’ room. LOL. I have to get back to work soon, too. Those asses aren’t gonna whip themselves. #HiHoHiHo

112 Likes

Comments

AllTheBacon:

Your whole situation disgusts me.

AbjectErica:

At least I HAVE a situation :-\

SniffTheGlove:

Hey AllTheBacon! Go drown yourself in a lake of fiery dicks!

AllTheBacon:

Umm, no.

Foster agreed with SniffTheGlove. Fiery dicks aside, these guys didn’t know Erica, or Candice, or what kind of situation they were in. Foster did. These guys couldn’t judge them. Foster could. And now he felt like he owed it to Candice to pay her a visit and hear her side of the story. Hear why she’d decided to toss their friendship away. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they could be friends again. Maybe he could get his old job back and things could go back to the way they were. If not, he still needed some closure, and he was sure she did, too.

19

Matt was thinking about masturbating. He wasn’t really horny, but the thought just occurred to him that he hadn’t taken the time to
indulge
himself since moving into Uncle Quent’s place. It seemed odd to him once he’d realized it, but then he remembered the job he had as a pizza delivery guy in Arizona. It was a great job if you were lying low and might have to run at any moment. Most of the time you were in a car with food and a pocket full of cash. For some reason, he had hated it, though. Maybe it was the uniform, or maybe it was the fact that people were always hoping he would fail at his job so they could get a free pizza. He hadn’t eaten pizza the whole time he’d worked there.

Matt could go without pizza for a month, but he was pretty sure he would break something if he didn’t clear the pipes on a regular basis. He was ready to work through the problem. He just needed to do a little
research
online in the privacy of his office.

It was just after breakfast, which meant that most of the girls wouldn’t show up for a few hours, unless there was some kind of special event booked. Matt checked the schedule before heading upstairs.

All clear.

He stepped into his office and pulled the door shut. He pushed the button to lock the door and then closed his eyes to start getting into the right frame of mind.

“Rough day already?” said a voice.

It was not a sexy, fantasy voice inside his head. It wasn’t even a female voice. Matt felt a little sick when he recognized the accent. His eyes shot open.

Thug Guy was sitting behind Uncle Quent’s desk. There was a black leather bag next to him. Matt didn’t like the look of that bag. It looked like one of those antique doctor’s bags that contained scalpels and bone saws. He also had Matt’s laptop open in front of him.

“Need LOLcat maybe?” asked Thug Guy. “To take mind off things?” He spun the laptop around so that it was facing Matt. There was a video up on the screen, ready to play. A cat stared sullenly from a tub at a man who was giving it a bath.

Matt had seen that one actually. A few seconds into the video, the cat would claw its way up the man’s leg and tag him in the junk for good measure. The man then gave a high-pitched howl only to be matched by the cat’s own howl. It was pretty funny.

Thug Guy tapped a button but nothing happened. He looked perplexed, but his expression was exaggerated, as though he was playing to an audience. He slammed a finger down on the button a few more times.

“Hmm,” said Thug Guy. “Does not want to play.”

Keys exploded off the keyboard along with shards of glass as Thug Guy bashed the laptop into the desk over and over again. He was not calm as he did it, either. A rage built up in him from out of nowhere and left him breathing hard after the laptop was reduced to chunks of plastic.

Matt backed up into the locked door behind him. He thought about running. He knew he wouldn’t get very far and it would probably be more painful for him if he ran.

Matt put a hand on his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. “You could have just taken that and sold it or something.”

“Is more dramatic this way,” said Thug Guy. “And loud.” He had caught his breath again. The rage seemed to have left as quickly as it had come. He took a step to the side and offered Matt the desk chair. “Please. Have seat.”

Matt edged around the desk to the chair. He thought about the last time he’d sat down with Thug Guy. Matt knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t think of any good ones. He kept his eyes on Thug Guy while he slowly sat down. He gave Matt a reassuring smile and then sucker punched him in the gut. Matt didn’t really say anything, but the air forced out of his lungs made a noise that sounded like,
“Huuh!”

Matt fell into his chair. His whole body tightened up as it bent over on itself. The pain in his stomach was overshadowed by the fear that he had forgotten how to breathe. He tried to make his lungs work, but his throat caught and he coughed instead. His eyes started to water, and a blurry version of Thug Guy casually walked around to the front of the desk.

“Being business owner not quite what you expect?” asked Thug Guy. “Me, I have no . . . uh . . . head? . . . for business.”

Thug Guy sat down in his own chair. He leaned forward on the desk, resting on his elbows. Then he gestured toward the shell of the shattered laptop with a finger. Matt might have flinched, but he was concentrating too hard on not passing out.

“I have example,” said Thug Guy. “I let you come here. I think maybe you could get money from uncle. Pay off debt. As you know, new birth certificates not cheap. This was bad investment. You cannot even check e-mail anymore.”

Matt was finally able to suck down some air. He took in too much and immediately coughed again. His next breath was ragged, but the air was finally going in the right direction. The one after that started clearing away the dark spots that had been floating around in his eyes. Thug Guy waited patiently.

Matt lifted his head up and tried to focus on the man across the desk from him. His eyes locked on the bird skull perched on Thug Guy’s hat. “People use phones for e-mail now.” Matt gulped down more air. “The laptop was just for porn.” Another gulp. “And LOLcats.” Being a smart-ass was hard work.

Thug Guy leaned back. “Ha! Smart guy. Maybe is hope for you yet.”

Matt’s eyes slid from the bird skull over to Uncle Quent’s cigar box. He rested one hand on top of the desk.

“Just thought of funny thing,” said Thug Guy. “If uncle had not died and did not leave you this place, you would still be in same business, but I would be pimp. For you.”

Matt didn’t have a reply to that. His breaths were coming easier now, and his mind was racing through all kinds of stories that had bad endings. His hand inched a little closer to the cigar box.

Thug Guy opened his bag. Then, very carefully, he lifted out something black and fluffy, and set it on the desk between them. A crow stood on Uncle Quent’s desk. Its black feathers had a slight sheen to them, as if they had been dipped in oil, and its head was cocked to one side so that it could focus on Matt with one eye. It stood absolutely motionless. Matt realized it wasn’t alive when Thug Guy adjusted it so that he could look at the bird’s face. “A gift for you. To remind you I’ll be back soon.”

He leaned forward, and Matt thought he was going to kiss the bird. Instead, he breathed on one of the eyes to steam it up. Then he polished it with his thumb. He turned the bird back to stare at Matt and stood up. “Time for going-out-of-business sale, I think.”

Thug Guy turned his back to Matt and started heading to the door.

Matt’s hand crept forward. “Well, I could—”

Thug Guy cut him off. “Was not question. Call me when it is done. I left number . . . in cigar box.”

Matt started to feel sick. He wasn’t sure if it was from the fist in the gut or the thought of reaching into the box. Thug Guy opened the door. Matt’s hand stopped moving forward. Thug Guy paused in the doorway but didn’t say anything before continuing on.

Matt laid his head down on the desk as the door shut again. He took a deep breath and sat back up. He used the desk phone to call Information. He gave the operator the city and state. When the operator asked for the listing, Matt paused for a second and then said, “A real estate agent, please.”

“Which one, sir?” the operator asked.

Matt had no idea. “Whatever’s at the top of the list is fine.” There was a reason why people named companies things like AAA Cabs or A-Plus Locksmith. Matt was quickly connected with Apex Realty.

* * *

He met with Peggy Lynn later that afternoon. She and her assistant showed up in a white SUV with the Apex Realty logo painted on the side, which was, more or less, just a triangle with a dollar sign in the middle. Her appraisal seemed to have more to do with raw numbers and computer printouts than curb appeal. In fact, she barely looked at the place before coming up with a selling price. She asked Matt how many bedrooms and bathrooms there were and whether or not there were any standout features like a mezzanine or a butler’s pantry. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe the old embalming room in the basement so he didn’t mention it. As it turned out, the upstairs landing overlooking the foyer counted as a mezzanine, so she seemed pretty happy about that.

When she finally did ask Matt for a walk-through, the fact that it was a working brothel didn’t seem to faze her in the slightest. Some of the girls were there getting ready for work, but Peggy’s smile never faltered. She focused on areas that might need damage control or creative touch-ups. She spitballed ideas and her assistant took notes. Peggy did raise an eyebrow when she saw the VIP room and suggested they might store some of the “furniture” during the open house.

Soon, they’d settled on a description of the brothel:
A unique heritage home with endless possibilities is waiting for YOU to unlock its hidden potential. Quiet neighborhood. Easy highway access.

The asking price was a little lower than Matt had hoped, but she showed him several printouts that indicated she was right on the nose. Before he was even done reviewing the listing agreement, Peggy’s assistant was pulling out a signpost from the back of the SUV. He signed the document, and they chatted a bit while her assistant hammered the post into the front lawn.

“We’ll need to dress it up a bit,” Peggy said, “but I think we can get you a decent price. Potted plants do wonders.” She pointed down at the clumps of weeds pretending to be the front lawn. “And we can spray this with some green fertilizer. Do you have any funds to repaint?”

Matt looked back at the house. He had never really noticed the flaws until now. Some of the paint
was
starting to flake off. And yes the lawn did look like crap. There was no extra money to fix it up, though. And no time.

“No,” Matt said. “I just need to sell it fast.”

“So you can come down on the price if needed?” asked Peggy.

He nodded. “Whatever it takes.”

Peggy’s assistant stopped his hammering. He spoke but not to either of them. “Hey, kid. You sure you should be heading up there?”

Matt turned around and locked eyes with Adam. He must have just gotten home from school. His backpack hung loose off his shoulders, and his thumbs were hooked under the straps. He looked confused. He turned away to look back at the signpost.

Peggy and her assistant suddenly realized they had tasks to do somewhere away from the awkward silence.

When Adam turned back to face Matt, the confusion was gone. It was replaced with anger. Matt couldn’t think of anything to say as the boy pushed past him. He kept his eyes on the ground as Adam slammed the door.