Problem Child, page 21
“So it’s fancy?”
“Sure.”
She keeps frowning at the menu.
“If you want to try it, we can order meatballs as an appetizer. Then you’ll have the meatballs you wanted and you’ll get to experience something new.”
“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that. I want to try it.”
“Good choice.” I shoot a look at the server and he darts over as if he’s been anxiously waiting. I order the food and remind him about my gin fizz. He’s back within thirty seconds with our drinks. Kayla eats more bread.
“You and I are the same,” I say. Her eyes rise and watch me impassively, waiting for more. “Or close enough to the same. I called you a sociopath before. Do you know what that means?”
“I looked it up.”
“What do you think? Does it fit?”
She only gives me a shrug and takes a sip of her soda, still waiting. Still assessing. She doesn’t have the self-consciousness other people have. She can stand the quiet.
“I’m not a doctor, of course. I’ve never even been to a shrink myself. Why bother? So I suppose I could be way off. But we both know I’m not, don’t we?”
“What’s your point?”
“I came to find you because I heard you might be like me. I was curious. And now I’m even more curious. Would you like to come live with me in Minneapolis?”
That finally gets her attention. She lifts her mouth from her straw as her eyes squint into a glare. “Live with you? In fucking Siberia?”
“You live in a desolate prison camp now, so I don’t know why you’re turning your nose up at a change. Yeah, it’s cold during the winter, but it’s a hell of a lot nicer than your current surroundings.”
“I have a shitty, psychotic mother already. I don’t need another one, but thanks.”
“I don’t want to be your mother, shitty or otherwise. I have a cat, and that’s enough nurturing to last me decades. I’d be your mentor. Teach you how to navigate the world using your unusual skills.”
“Why?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “Because it sounds fun, actually. Right now my life is very stable. And sometimes when things are stable I act out. I hate being bored.”
“Yeah,” she responds.
“You’re rough right now. Unpolished. I want to show you a big picture and help you place yourself in it. You still haven’t told me if you’re smart.”
“Smart enough.”
“How did you do in school?”
The waiter brings our Caesar salads, and I dig in while Kayla shoots a glare out the window. She’s still avoiding the question, but I love garlic, so I eat happily. I guess she’s not a fan of veggies.
“In fourth grade they wanted to put me in a special class,” she finally says. “For dumb kids.”
“And? Did you go?”
“No. My test results were really high, so they couldn’t send me, and they didn’t know what to do with me.”
“I see.”
“But I hate school. I don’t want to go and I shouldn’t have to. It’s fucking stupid.”
“Of course you should have to go. Am I supposed to put up with gangs of wild, uneducated kids running in the streets at all hours of the day? Look, you’ve got two more years of school. You’ve had a rough patch until now, and your grades probably blow, but you can turn that around. A big comeback story works wonders. Two years of hard work, and then you can get a scholarship to college.”
“Bullshit. That money is for black kids and Indi—”
“Stop. Just stop. You haven’t believed anything these assholes have told you your whole life, but you believe that? All they’re doing is giving you an excuse for why they haven’t done shit with their lives. You’re a poor kid from an abusive home. Mom on drugs. Dad in prison. Colleges eat that crap up like chocolate. You bring up your grades and write a good essay about how you finally learned how to separate yourself from destructive family dynamics and thrive, and you’re automatically in.”
Chin down, she watches me through her lashes, ice in her eyes. I finish my drink and my salad and finally snag a piece of bread. When the meatballs arrive, I order another gin fizz and sit back.
“I could really go to college?” she asks.
“Yeah. Maybe not Harvard, but a state school? Definitely. Maybe even an expensive school somewhere else if you can get some scholarships. Hawaii? Florida? California?”
Her eyebrows rise in interest.
“But you have to work for it. Plan and scheme the same way you did with these men. This is a long game, Kayla. You get to college and you can have so much more fun than in high school. You just have to toe the line. Do the work, or at least pay someone to do it.”
“You can do that?”
“Sure. Learn how to work the system from the inside. That’s where the money is. That’s the power. You act like them. Get it?”
“I still don’t see what’s in it for you. Unless you really do want sex.”
“I really don’t want sex. Even aside from the fact that you’re my niece and a child—Jesus, I can’t believe I have to say that—I like penises, and my boyfriend has a great one. So no, I don’t want to collect you like some orphan sex doll. I’m not an asshole trafficker. I get great sex for free, thank you very much.”
“Okay. So . . . you’ve always wanted a baby or something?”
“No, I’ve never wanted a baby. Have you seen those things? But I think we could . . . Shit, I don’t know.” I tilt my head and meet her gaze. “We could be friends. Or like . . . well, like an aunt and a niece, funny enough.”
I laugh at my own joke. “No one knows what I am, Kayla. I’ve never told anyone. And even if they did know, they couldn’t really know. I’d just be like a weird animal in a zoo. But you and I get each other. Or we could. I wouldn’t have to pretend with you and vice versa. We understand what it’s like, how we each think and feel.”
She spears a meatball and puts it on her plate. I do the same.
“You might not care about that at sixteen. I wouldn’t have either. But I’m over thirty now, and it feels good to look in your face and know what I’m seeing. Other people are just fucking strange.”
“Yeah. That’s true.”
My second drink arrives and I take it from the server’s hand with a muttered “Thank God.” I’m not used to giving sincere speeches, and frankly it took far too much energy to pull off. Either she gets it or she doesn’t. I’m done being honest for tonight. My face feels tight and prickly and I don’t like it. Ugh.
We finish the meatballs and both keep our mouths tightly closed until the entrées arrive. I point at my empty glass again and the server nods. No driving tonight, so I can get comfortably blitzed.
“I’ll have another crème soda too,” Kayla says. “Cherry this time.”
She sounds older than sixteen suddenly. Calm and completely in control. I smile at her, feeling a lovely frisson of pride as I imagine molding her into greatness.
“What would all this mean?” she asks. “Living with you? I’d have a room? Food? All that?”
“Yes. And I won’t charge rent.” Let’s be honest, I haven’t planned this out. I always go with my gut and act quickly. But I’m an expert at getting what I want. “But first things first. There will be rules. I have a boyfriend. He’s a good guy, not a creep. You don’t ever screw with him.”
“Oh?” Her eyes gleam for a bare moment.
“Listen to me. You don’t lie about him. You don’t record him. You don’t flirt with him. You don’t even look sideways at him. And you don’t tell him what we are. Luke is a normal guy. He’s a little naïve. And he loves me.”
She snorts.
“Yeah, I know. It’s dumb. But it’s true. Think of him as my prized possession and that makes it easier to understand. This is a deal breaker and I’m willing to go to the mat over this. You don’t try to make either of us look like something we’re not or I will ruin you and everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“Wow. Calm down, maybe.”
“Look, I don’t understand the way normal people work, but Luke will do his best to be a good, devoted uncle to you. Let him.”
“What if he’s secretly a creep and you don’t know it?”
I snort. “He’s not. I recognize creeps, I promise. But if he is, you come to me and tell me immediately. Other than that, he’s under my protection and you’ll treat him with respect even if you have to reach into your darkest unplumbed depths to fake it.”
Kayla doesn’t respond, but I will get that agreement out of her before we move forward. I will make her say it out loud.
“Second, right now I live in a downtown condo. I have a cat. Do not hurt that cat or I’ll hurt you. And don’t trash my condo. For a few weeks you’ll have to sleep on the couch. But we’re looking for a house right now.”
“‘We’?”
Yes, we. I’ve decided to take Luke up on his offer to move things forward. Settle down. Like a quiet little spider. “Me and Luke,” I say. “So you’ll definitely have your own room and a nice big house to live in. With food. Lots of food.”
“Okay.”
“Three, you’ll try hard in school and not create unnecessary trouble. Everyone gets in fights and loses their temper, but don’t start a prostitution ring or set up the vice principal to take the fall for embezzlement or something.”
“Ha!” She lights up a little when she laughs. “Good one.”
“Are you starting to believe that I just might know how you think?”
“I’d say you have promise.”
I pause for a moment and watch her eat. “Do you like the osso buco?”
“Yeah. It’s good. What’s this stuff?” She pokes at a yellowish mound under the meat.
“It’s risotto. Fancy rice. You’ll like it.”
She takes a tiny bite and nods. “It’s okay.”
I dig into my own risotto before it gets cold. It’s delicious, so I take a few minutes to shut up and enjoy my food.
I haven’t told Luke my plan yet, but—worst-case scenario—I buy my own house in the suburbs and keep dating him. Or I could get a slightly bigger place downtown. That would work out too.
But downtown means more trouble for Kayla to get into and more directions for me to watch. It would be doable, because I wouldn’t trust her at all, but it would take more work. Cameras all over the house. And I could set a private investigator on her once a month to make sure I’m in the loop on all of her neighborhood shenanigans.
I imagine the little spy game she and I will play and I feel a surge of affection for this troublesome person.
“Are you interested in my offer or not?” I finally ask.
“Maybe.”
“It would get you the hell out of this damned place. I’m not asking you to live a moral life or be kind or generous. I don’t care. Just keep your nose clean and apply yourself.”
“I see.”
“And do not fuck up my life. That’s all. Understand?”
“Whatever.”
Good Lord, teenagers and their one-word answers. “You’re annoying the hell out of me. Do you want in or not? And a ‘Thank you for saving my stupid life, Aunt Jane’ wouldn’t hurt anything.”
“You didn’t save my life.”
“Shit, girl. A few months ago you moved in with my mother because that was your best option. I’m very clear that you haven’t started living any kind of life, even if you’re not.”
“Fuck off,” she mutters, but she keeps on eating. For a tiny thing, she can pack it away, and I really admire that. You’ve got to get while the getting is good.
Her shoulders hitch up in a shrug, though I haven’t said anything. “So what’s the plan? Smuggle me out of state?”
“No. I need to do this legally so we can get the documentation to enroll you in school. Joylene would testify that I’d be a good influence, I think. But I don’t know what your mom would do.”
“I can take care of her,” Kayla says.
“Oh?”
“I know about several buildings she burned down to help people file insurance claims, and one drug dealer she ratted out to the cops. I’ll just threaten to tell everyone if she doesn’t sign me away.”
“Nice,” I say with genuine appreciation.
“Thanks.”
“Obviously, everyone in our family can be bought off if necessary. But it won’t be necessary. I’m not worried about them. My biggest concern is that the lieutenant governor has your name and could make trouble.”
“I can take care of that,” Kayla says, finally sitting back to press a hand to her belly as if she can’t eat another bite.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean I have the tape and I’ve decided it’s time to use it. In fact, I edited it this afternoon. It’s ready to upload. Once Roy Morris is exposed, they’ll be too busy scrambling to worry about me.”
I have to admit, I’m surprised. The sound I heard from the bathroom today wasn’t her watching porn. It was her preparing blackmail material.
Listen, I’m a big fan. I’ve pulled off similar schemes myself for fun and profit. But this is dangerous.
“That’s child pornography. It’s illegal to make it, view it, or share it. Even if you’re in it. You can’t just send it out.”
“I’ll use a fake email address and a throwaway ISP. It’s fine.”
“And what if your face gets out in the future and you’re trying to land a big job?”
She shrugs. “Whatever. It’s illegal to view, right? I’m not worried.”
“But you didn’t send it out yet?”
“Not yet. I wanted to figure out my next step first.”
“Yeah? What is your next step?”
“Moving in with you,” she says, just like that.
I guess we have a plan.
Still, I shake my head. “Look, I like throwing out filth for public consumption as much as the next girl does, but that’s not going to work this time.”
“I plan to send it to newspapers.”
“Newspapers would be extremely careful about this, and at best they might write an article hinting at what they’ve seen. But if they can’t prove you’re underage, they’ll consider it sordid gossip that isn’t their business. If they do suspect you’re underage, they will send the video to the police and run away like their hands are on fire, because they’re not legally allowed to view that.”
“So I should just distribute it online?”
I tap the table and try to think it through. I do love a puzzle, and she’s on the right track, at least, no longer sitting around in an empty house, waiting for something to happen.
Kayla dips her straw up and down in her glass and watches me. “Well, you haven’t said anything about how wrong it is yet.”
“Wrong?”
“Yeah. You know . . .”
“Using your body? Making the tape? Putting it out there?”
“All of it.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I’m not real great at figuring out right and wrong. I’m more interested in what works and what doesn’t. Or what I can get away with and what I can’t. What it comes down to is he can’t get away with this, and that’s his problem.”
She smiles in answer.
“As for whether you were wrong . . . Hell, I’m a sociopath, and I can tell what’s most wrong was him paying a child so he could rape her. I mean . . . Jesus. If you think about it, your filming it was really just self-defense, wasn’t it?”
Her smile thins into a sneaky little grin. “You sure could say that.”
“If we can keep your identity and face out of this, then maybe it’s usable collateral. But I’m not getting within ten feet of any device with that video on it. I can’t see or know. But if I were giving you advice . . .”
“Yeah?”
“This is just hypothetical.”
“Okay.”
I bob my chin in her direction. “Put your phone on the table and turn it off.”
“Why?” she asks with so much wide-eyed innocence that I know she knows exactly why. But she takes out her phone and powers it down, so I proceed.
I cross my arms on the table and lower my voice. “You know it’s illegal to blackmail people, right? What you’ve been doing is a crime.”
“Yes, I know that,” she says.
“Okay. But there is nuance here and you can work with that. If you were, for example, to send a file to the lieutenant governor’s office, a file that has been edited carefully to keep your face out of it, that could be used as leverage. Not to blackmail or extort, but as a guarantee of your safety. You could include a sad explanation that the poor girl in the video shouldn’t be victimized again by having the unedited tape go public. Make clear that no one wants that and the victim should be protected. His people will understand that it’s a threat without you having to make a threat or ask for money.”
“So I send it to his office anonymously to let them know they need to back off.”
“Yes. But . . .” I hesitate for a moment, considering what I’m about to say. Inserting myself into this could put me in danger, but I want to see this man. To look him in the face and let him know that I’ve beat him at his game. Not the little pervert Roy Morris, but his powerful brother. The muscle and money. The rush of it flows into my blood.
I smile. “I could follow up with a visit to the good lieutenant governor to explain that you’re an underprivileged little girl who lives in a trailer with her grandparents, and if any tape goes public, you would be revictimized and many criminal charges would be filed. It would be less a threat and more a courtesy to him, really.”
“Hm. I won’t get any money, though.”
“No. But you won’t get dead either. We have to go back to that county to start the court process moving. He could stop it if he wanted to, or he could hire someone to shoot you dead on the highway out of town.”
“True.” She’s quiet as I accept the check from our server, but then she nods. “I’ll think about it.”
“Thanks for taking it under consideration,” I say dryly as I open the bill portfolio.
When I get out my credit card, I notice her gaze slide to the receipt total to take it in. She wants to know exactly what kind of lifestyle she’s buying for herself with this little deal between us. More signs of intelligence.
