Capítulo 15: Ch15: Royalty
After about five minutes on the road, I was about to sit up when he gripped my neck, forcing my face to his crotch. "What the fuck?"
"You wanted to suck my cock, you're going to suck my damn cock." He slammed my neck hard as we sped down the highway. I had no idea if we were even going in the right direction.
I knew I had fucked up, provoking a cop's PTSD. But I had one card to play: I just needed to locate his gun. Stalling for time, I undid his belt, kissing his stomach. Jay's body had tight, strong abs, under a soft, sweaty layer of body hair. I licked him, touching him just enough to make him moan. (I was a professional.)
I bit my tongue; smiling to myself, I had a plan. Logically, the gun had to be in the glove box, but I needed to be sure. There was no lock, so I nudged it with my foot, hoping Jay wouldn't notice.
I waited until he pulled off the highway when I could feel the vehicle slowing down, before making my move. I sat up, hitting him square in the jaw. In the few seconds, it took for him to grab his mouth in pain, I got the glove box open, reaching for the gun. I had held a gun before but this one felt heavier, loaded.
Jay smirked. "You even know how to handle that, little girl?"
Now I was pissed. I struck him in the face over and over, until blood ran down his cheek. And then I cocked the gun. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt the bullet shift into place.
"Just do it," Jay growled through gritted teeth. "Just fucking do it!"
I could have. But that wasn't what I wanted. Instead, I held the gun to his back. "Get out of the car."
"Put down the gun," he muttered, already knowing his words were futile.
"I'll lower the gun if and when you get out of the car."
Jay sighed and finally did as I asked, all while calling me a few choice words. It was nothing I hadn't heard before.
I led him around the back, to my room on the second floor of the open-air motel. "Up the stairs, room 203." Once I got him inside, I shut and locked the door.
"Now what?"
"Now you take your clothes off." I held the gun at my side. For a moment I felt truly powerful.
"What?" Jay chuckled. "You can't be serious."
I narrowed my eyes, to show just how serious I, in fact, was. "Now, please."
Jay took off his jacket, a brown suede coat that had seen better days. Next was his white t-shirt. He paused for a moment, before revealing a body full of scars.
"I know you." I walked closer, inspecting the marks on his body. Something about him seemed familiar. Jay had been shot no less than five times. One bullet hit dangerously close to his spine. The injury required surgery resulting in a very distinctive wound that never healed correctly. Why did this seem so familiar?
"I had a feeling you did. When I saw your last name. Did your father brag about what he did to me?"
'Oh, Fuck.' This was bad.
"He told me stories." I walked my fingers down his chest, to a massive scar on his stomach. "My father was the one who broke your hand."
Jay silently nodded, avoiding my gaze.
'Oh fuck, oh fuck.' I struggled to maintain my poise. I heard the story so many times. My father was actually proud of how much pain he caused the judge, the district attorney, and the investigating detective. He considered it a win for First Nation justice. "You were a detective."
"I was."
"But you got demoted to an officer, why?"
Jay blinked tears from his eyes. "No longer fit for duty."
"Did you have my father killed?" I pressed the barrel of the gun, to his chest, only because it felt good to do so.
"No, a friend of mine did," Jay replied, pursing his lips. This was a half-truth.
The silence was broken by the roar of a plane engine. Was there an airplane passing over the hotel? I was struck with a moment of clarity. I already knew Jay wanted to die, so holding the gun to his chest meant nothing. I carefully lowered the weapon, bringing it to rest at my side. "Did you mean to kill him?"
"His death was an accident. I wanted your father to face justice. The plan was to bring him to the station bruised and bloody, just a little payback."
"But he had underlying health conditions." I knew my father took medication for his heart, kidneys, and liver, all while still drinking like a fish and shooting up heroin every night. I could imagine my father lost consciousness, during the attack and then just never woke up. Tears filled my eyes. My father was a real bastard but he was the only friend I had. And now, knowing that his attackers were cops (or at least hired by cops) they would never see the inside of a courtroom.
Jay took a set towards me. Before I could react, he cupped my face, wiping away my tears with his rough fingers. "I'm so sorry, Tia."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, as I forced myself to look him in the eyes. "So, you lied to me. I'll never get to testify."
"I'm so sorry," he said again. Jay lowered himself to his knees, reaching for the gun.
"What are you doing?" I was about to fight him for it when he slowly guided the barrel to his chin.
"Please don't," I said placing my hand upon his. Yeah, apparently, he had lied about that as well, his crippled limb had more than enough dexterity to hold and fire a weapon. "There's no maid service here and cleaning blood out of the carpet is a real bitch."
"Aw fuck, sorry." Jay tossed the gun to the floor, letting it slide towards the door. "I should go. I've already done enough."
I shook my head. "Stay the night. It's the least you can do."
"You want me here?"
I did. Part of me just didn't want to be alone. "I guess, but take a shower first." I looked into his sad eyes. There was a unique innocence behind his demeanor. It was something I wanted so badly to trust. "Please."
"Sure," Jay said with a nod. "I got nowhere better to be."
"Thanks. Bathroom's right over there." The directions were fairly obvious in my less than luxurious accommodations.
He walked towards my small hotel room bathroom. I knew there were plenty of hand towels and cheap bars of soap (that I purchased myself, or shoplifted from better hotels.)
I watched as Jay kicked off his boots. He next took off his dirt-encrusted pants and then his plaid boxers. Only after standing naked before me did he touch the door frame. "Your bathroom has no door?"
"Nope." I got undressed, changing into clean underwear and an oversize t-shirt that once belonged to my father. I got into bed, facing the opposite wall, to give him a feeling of privacy.
As expected, I was unable to sleep. I listened to the sound of the shower, unable to see my alarm clock. After what felt like hours, I could feel when Jay took a seat on my bed. I turned to see if he was naked. He was.
"Sorry I thought you were asleep." Jay's waist was wrapped in my only full-sized towel.
"Will you hold me?" I asked.
"I'm not too comfortable with that," he replied in a nervous breath.
"Because I'm a whore or because I'm the same age as your oldest daughter?"
Jay shook his head. "I'm just tired."
"Can I hold you?" I requested while pulling the covers over my body so that there was a barrier between us.
"Yeah, I guess that would be fine." Jay nodded and laid comfortably, letting me spoon his back.
I kissed his shoulder, stroking my fingers down his chest. "You feel cold."
Jay swallowed the lump in his throat. "I've been cold for a while now."
"Let me make you warm." I put my arms around his broad, slender shoulders. I could feel Jay reach for my hand, moving it to his chest. I could feel the warmth of his body, his soul.
Jay was breathing hard, clearly very emotional. "You have such a beautiful heart."
This was not my first rodeo. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him he could cry in my arms without judgment. "You're a good man."
Jay released my hand and rolled over to face me. "And you're a good girl. Too good to be living like this."
I stroked his face, tracing my fingers along his jaw. "What would happen if I kissed you?"
Jay chuckled. "I'd be honored."
I touched my lips to his. His facial hair felt rough, comforting. Something about him reminded me of my past; of everything, I'd loved and lost. Once and then twice, I couldn't stop myself. There were tears in my eyes.
"It's ok," Jay said in a whisper. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to match his breath to mine. And for a brief moment, our hearts beat as one. He cupped his hand to my cheek and kissed me again.
As a veteran sex worker, I knew what was happening. He was picturing his wife. It was a pretty common thing for clients to do, especially widows.
I just wish I knew how to speak like his wife did. Would she whisper to him? Maybe compliment him? Jay was so beautiful, so strong. The very definition of a husband and father. At least I knew how to touch him the way his wife (or any woman) would have.
I reached my hand around from under the blanket, keeping the fabric between us as I groped his leg, giving his upper thigh a firm squeeze. The towel fell to the floor. I wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't been with a woman since even before his wife's tragic death. Kicking off the blanket, I moved his hand to my thigh. I was directing him to my underwear but it was up to him if he wanted to go further.
Jay kissed me passionately, forcing his tongue in my mouth. He tasted like black coffee; deep, sensual, and masculine. With two fingers he slipped my panties down my thighs.
I maneuvered my underwear off, kicking it to the foot of the bed. I kissed his neck; sucking, biting. My whole body was quivering. I wanted him so bad; to have him, to know him, to love him. My hand had been gripping his back, digging my nails into his skin. I scratched him along his hips until I was where I wanted to be.
Jay moved on top of me. His breath was hot, intense as he found his pace. My face buried against his shoulder, I could feel him grip the headboard for leverage as his power only increased.
We made love for what felt like forever. He fucked away his pain, anger, sadness. I didn't mind being the vessel; I was strong, I could take it. Then, with a masculine, carnal, grunt he blew his load, kissing me one last time before opening his eyes.
"Jay?"
The look he gave me was one of horror. I clearly was not his wife, I was a First Nation slut who probably looked a lot like the men who destroyed his life.
I was expecting him to leave, or yell or at least move but, no. Jay was frozen in place, like a catatonic statue, as he blinked tears from his eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, Tia."
"It's okay, you have nothing to be sorry for," I spoke soft and slow, hoping to take the edge off. "Just let me hold you." I put my arms around him, directing his head to my shoulder.
"It's not okay, nothing is okay." Jay rested his body in my arms, clearly sobbing.
This was not my first time comforting an emotional client. "Would you like some vodka, or scotch? I even have some NyQuil."
"NyQuil, yeah," he muttered with a nod. "That would be nice."
I held him for a few more seconds, making sure he was comfortable before I left the bed.
I returned with a large dark bottle, with its little measuring cup cap. "Here you go."
"Thank you." Jay drank a dose of NyQuil and went to sleep within a few minutes.
Since he was facing me, I stroked Jay's rough jawline as he slept. Tracing the stubble on his face; he looked so peaceful, so strong.
Like my dad.
The next day I awoke around noon, to find Officer Fuller already gone. This was not surprising since he had a real job to get to. 'Oh well.'
On the pillow, he left me a hundred dollars in twenties, tens, and fives, along with a note. "Dear Tia," that was all it said. Confused, I flipped it over, but nope. That was it. It was less of a note and more of a label; 'this money is for Tia, everyone else- do not touch!'
I'd really hoped he would have written more but the fact that he didn't add 'don't contact me ever again,' let me with a sense of hope.
I walked down to the main office to give the money to Cathy. She was at her desk, sipping a can of off-brand cola. "Good morning sleeping beauty."
"Here you go," I said handing her the stack of twenties. "I'll do better tomorrow."
"Yeah, your blond-haired cop friend was a real cheap-ass." She didn't seem to notice the smaller bills I pocketed. But how did she know Jay was a cop? "Did you see him leave?"
"Yeah, he looked hungover as fuck, but I'm sure he'll be back."
"I kinda hope so," I said with an unintended smile.
"Good luck with that, Cinderella."
"Excuse me?" I knew Cathy liked to joke, but that was a little uncalled for.
"Girls like us don't get a happily ever after, we don't get to ride off with the handsome blue-eyed prince."
"Says you." I left the hotel, to sit outside in the cold afternoon air. I was tempted to try to find Jay if only to see if he was alright. (Because that's what friends do.)
I started walking in the direction of the police station. In the light of day, I could see there was a bench across the street. It was just close enough for me to loiter with a cup of coffee and smoke my cigarettes until I caught sight of him.
That was when I felt the heat. The red-haired flight attendant was sitting next to me in her burned uniform. "You certainly have a lot of faith."
I shook my head, rolling my eyes. Of course, the ghost of a white woman didn't think I was worthy of having Jay as a friend. "Not you too."
"Unlike your 'manager,' I'm not saying you have no right to go after him. You and Jay made a connection, even I could see that."
"Then why are you here?"
She shrugged. "I've got no place else to be."
It was around three in the afternoon, I finally caught sight of Jay. He was leaving the station with a few other people; men and women in uniform, people of higher social standing than me. I don't know why I felt the need to wave to him.
I was hoping to catch his attention, but it was one of his friends who spotted me first. The brunette female officer shook her head with a look of disgust. "Really? Turning tricks across the street from a police station?" She already had her handcuffs out, as she headed in my direction.
"I'm not soliciting I was just here to speak to Officer Fuller."
The woman laughed. "Yo, Jay, you know this piece of trash?"
"She's a witness in an ongoing investigation." Jay approached, gripping me by the arm.
A male member of his group snickered. "So, does this mean you're not going to hang out with us?"
The female returned to her co-worker's side. "Nah, it looks like he's got better things to do."
The entire group seemed to be laughing at Jay. He turned away, walking me to a secluded area. "Don't mind them. They're just..."
"I know what they are." I had hoped Jay was something different.
"Let me give you some money. You can buy a bus ticket and go see your mom."
"No. I don't want your money!" I couldn't stop the tears from falling. I wanted so badly to hit him, but considering the police station was still visible from where we stood, I knew that was not a smart idea. "Fuck you!"
"So, what do you want?" Jay looked nervous, aggravated.
"Just tell me to leave you alone and I'll leave you alone."
Jay nodded. "What happened last night was a mistake."
"Why?" I asked through gritted teeth.
"I think you know why." Jay cupped my face brushed the tears from my cheeks. "But I'm not going to tell you to leave. You've had enough people leave you."
His words made me cry even harder. I missed my dad. I knew that he would be put in pauper's grave since there was no way I could afford to give him a proper burial or cremation. "I miss my dad but I can't afford to send the body to a funeral home. What's going to happen to him? Did they already get rid of the body?"
"I'll pay for the release for your father's remains. I'll get him to you, I promise. But you have to promise to leave this place."
"This place?"
"Canada." Jay kissed my forehead, holding the warmth of his lips for a good five seconds. "You are worth so much more than a hundred dollars a night." A single tear rolled down his cheek. "Now go home, please."
"Ok," I replied with a nod. But I couldn't exactly go back to the hotel without a payday. "Can you give me a ride?"
Jay looked at his friends who had already started to leave in their respective vehicles. "Sure. I can do that."
During the drive, he explained how it would not take him long to have the body cremated, and when that was taken care of, he could bring the remains to me in a metal urn. "Just until you decide what you want to do. Maybe you can spread his ashes someplace like California."
"Yeah, maybe."
Jay dropped me off, but the moment his truck was out of sight, I took a walk to the biker bar where I was greeted by well-wishers. Person after person, saying how sorry they were about the loss of my father. I took their free drinks and listened to stories of how much of a bad-ass my dad was.
I gave a few blowjobs, pulling in a good amount of money (enough to get drunk off my ass.) At around midnight, I walked to a gas station to buy myself some dinner. It took the form of a cup of stale coffee and a packaged cupcake. (It was all I could hold down.)
I ate my meal, leaning against the door of the women's restroom looking out at the starry night sky. I lit up a cigarette and considered hitchhiking. But to where? Not sure, just someplace different.
"Hey!" shouted a male voice. "You working?"
"Who's asking?" I replied before looking in his direction.
It was a tall, grey-haired man, speaking to me from the open driver's side window of his Semi. "Just a stranger with some candy."
I knew what that meant; he had free drugs and was willing to share. I walked to his passenger side door and got in. "What do you got?" I looked around the cab of the truck to see if there was an ID posted. "Randell Fish." He had his license posted, which meant he was safe, or as safe as a driver of an unlabeled truck could be.
He handed me a small tin from his glove box. It was a kit, with a pipe, lighter, and what appeared to be crack or cocaine. "You can get started on that if you like. We'll be on the road for a while."
"A while?" I asked, leaning back in my seat. He was taking me miles away into the frozen north. I'd have to hitchhike back to civilization. Oh well, nothing I hadn't done before.
I filled the crack pipe and hit it with the lighter, taking a long drag. "Woah, that feels nice." My mind felt clear, calm, even a little happy.
"My special recipe," Randell murmured, rolling down my window while locking the doors.
Even with the cool breeze caressing my face, I felt dizzy. My vision was fading in and out, as the toxic steam filled my lungs. My body felt electric. I couldn't help but laugh. "Are you going to fuck me up?" I turned my head to Randell to see a red-faced demon with glowing eyes. 'Yeah, this shit was laced with meth.' Either that or he was a demon sent to ferry me into Hell.
That was the last thing I remembered.
I awoke naked, tied to a bed by my wrists. Looking around the room, it appeared to be a trashed basement with no natural lighting. My body hurt all over. I tried to scream, but there was duct tape over my mouth.
Above me, I could hear the sounds of police, gunshots. "Kitchen- clear! Bathroom- clear! I'm going to check the basement!" Would the police find me? Am I even in a basement?
An officer came down the stairs in full riot gear. He cut my wrist restraints, wrapped my body in a blanket. "You're ok, Tia, everything is going to be ok."
Was it Jay's voice? I wanted it to be. He carried me out, into the sunlight. "Thank you, Jay. I love you."
At least, that's what I wished happened.
Maybe someday, someone will find my body. From what I can tell, it's near a river, not too far from my father's old shop. My eyes are swollen shut and I can see a distinct bruise on my neck from where I was strangled to death.
It's actually kind of nice here. But I know I can't stay. My soul deserves better.
Since I don't appear to be headed towards any kind of white light, I'm going to try to find my dad. "Peace out, earth body."
I suddenly felt darkness, a pain. I guess I wasn't going anywhere.
I saw a car pull up, then three. The same people who killed me emerged, laughing at the fact that my body was exactly where they left me.
The first man removed his belt. I turned away, fully aware of what was going to happen next. My body was still intact enough to abuse (and at least now they didn't have to pay me.)
For the next few hours, the men seemed to be taking turns with my dead body. And drinking, and snorting cocaine. But this wasn't a sick party, no they were waiting.
Under the cover of the dark Canada night, a final car arrived. To my horror, I recognized it as Jay's Truck.
This was bad. Either Jay was part of this, or he was walking into a trap. (I didn't know which was worse.)
The red-haired woman appeared, she was looking out into the distance. I was waiting for her to say something, anything. "Do you think they put him in the trunk?"
I had not been expecting that. Had Jay been kidnapped? Did these men hurt him for the sin of being kind to a First Nation slut? All I could do was wait and see.
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