help. You could run the bar and let her focus on the salon. You know, keep it in the family. Just say the word.”
The only word that Greg could think of at the moment was “no,” but it wasn’t like he had a lot of other options. His police career seemed like a distant memory and he was way too old for a full-time career in punk rock.
“Thanks, Eddie. I’ll let you know.”
Greg walked across the living room and grabbed the knob on Chris’s bedroom door. Surfing posters covered all four walls. Greg could hear an old Bad Citizen Corporation song playing on the stereo in the corner as he stepped inside. His eyes fell on the empty bed before he saw the open window. He didn’t need to investigate any further to know that Chris had snuck out. It was something Greg had done several times himself when he was about that age.
Chris wasn’t even his son, but Greg suddenly understood how his own father must have felt all those years ago. That magic combination of rage, terror, and disappointment that makes you want to murder the people you love the most. Some things never change.
Two Months Later…
September 2011—The van wasn’t moving any longer, but Mary’s head spun. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at the dome light, willing it stop. Wherever they’d brought her, it was much quieter than anything she was used to. There were no police helicopters whirring overhead. No addicts threatening to kill each other all night long.
Something in the back of her mind kept telling her to get up and run, to get as far away from there as she could. But where would she go? The streets of Hollywood didn’t care if she lived or died. And going back to her mom’s house would be a slow death of a different kind. It was sad, but true, that this might be the safest place she had woken up in months. Hell, she thought, at least I still have my clothes on.
Mary put her hand on the back of the bench seat and pulled herself up. Her head felt thick and her mind was reeling. The view out the window didn’t offer many clues, except that she was in a garage. The cluttered workbench beside the van was filled with a random assortment of greasy tools, silhouetted in the darkness. She reached for the handle and slid the door open as quietly as she could.
One foot out the door, she pause.
“Hello?”
She almost didn’t recognize the fear in her own voice. It sounded so soft, so vulnerable, like the little girl she never got to be. Mary groped her way to a door that led into a kitchen. She opened it and saw the driver standing there. He was about her stepdad’s age—maybe a little older—with the same hard eyes, but otherwise more polished. The man popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth and gave her the once-over.
“Want some food?”
She was hungry all the time these days but never felt like eating.
“You got anything else?”
He smiled and nodded. “Sure. Follow me.”
Scoring drugs hadn’t been that easy since, well, forever. She knew they wouldn’t be free.
Mary followed him through the small house. The walls were bare and there was almost no furniture. He walked fast, with a sense of purpose. She didn’t hear the moaning until they reached the bedroom door. Glaring lights flooded the hallway as he pushed into the room.
Two young women were on the bed. One was blindfolded and handcuffed to the headboard. Mary recognized the second one from around Hollywood, but hadn’t seen her in a few weeks. She straddled the other woman with a riding crop in her hand.
They wound through a forest of tripods and a couple of oblivious crewmembers. There was a small sofa pushed against one wall with a glass coffee table in front of it. Lines were already chalked up in neat little rows. He handed her a rolled-up dollar bill.
“Have as much as you want. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
Mary hesitated for a brief moment before sitting down and getting to work.
She did two quick bumps, one right after the other. It was pure and strong. She felt the instant burn and rush as she leaned back. They sat side-by-side, watching the action on the bed. It all seemed so mechanical, like pistons and lube—a fake ecstasy compared to the narcotic euphoria that pumped through Mary’s bloodstream.
“I’ve never done porn before…”
“There’s no rush. Just join in when the urge strikes you.”
It didn’t take long to make a decision. What was happening on the bed looked way better than what might happen on the sofa. He gave her a fatherly pat on the knee, but left his hand there. That made her choice even easier.
She stood up and slithered out of her tank top. The girls on the bed waved her over as she unbuttoned her jeans. The driver looked her up and down, smiling in approval.
“There are other ways you can help me, besides all of this.”
“Oh yeah? How?”
“You and I might have some friends in common, Mary. But we can talk about that later.”
Chapter Six
“This is bullshit, dude.”
Marco was talking to himself more than the guard behind him. His bony, hairless chest heaved as he dug his shovel into the ground again. The T-shirt wrapped around his filthy hair was the same one he’d been wearing since he and Greg left to go hiking two months ago. He’d gotten it wet and wrung it out a few times since then, but it was starting to fray and fall apart. Just like him.
Marco had seen his share of hard times over the years. It was the price he paid to live the life he chose. He had survived beatings from cops, been bitten by dogs, gotten shot at by Mexican drug lords, and fought three drunks at once in a jail cell. But this was the first time he’d ever had to do hard labor. It didn’t sit well with him.
“You guys want to put up fences so bad, dig the holes yourself.”
“Shut up and get back to work.”
The guard sounded half asleep as he spat out the order. It was hot out and none of them had taken a water break for a couple of hours. Marco’s hands were raw and blistered as he kicked the blade deeper into the hard ground.
“You shut up.”
There were a couple of other slave laborers right behind Marco. They were waiting to put the post in the ground once he finished digging the hole. He wasn’t sure what they had done to get on Magnus’s bad side. Marco felt like he’d been born there.
The three of them had been digging since sunrise. They’d made their new camp near a box canyon deep inside the forest where no hikers or campers ever came. There was a natural spring nearby that provided plenty of water, but they had to hunt for most of their food. Marco never thought he would miss bologna and beans so much.
Magnus and the dozen guards that escaped the raid all slept in the tents they grabbed on the way out of Grizzly Flats. Marco and the rest of his ilk camped outside on a couple of sleeping bags that they shared. He didn’t really mind it, except for the wildlife.
