Protecting Heather
by
Stephen Smith
This is a work of fantasy and fiction. The author does not condone any sexual activity among persons under legal age in real life.
Chapter 15
Piles of envelopes sat on the desk. Inside the envelopes, piles of cash waited to be counted.
Nick opened the next envelope, making notes in his spreadsheet, marking off, filling in amounts. Then he wrote the same entry into his manual ledger.
Goddamn waste of time. Just because our bookkeeper’s managed to stay alive too long. If counting numbers keeps you living that long, forget it. I’ll die early and happy!
He heard shuffling feet, hesitant steps approached the desk. He didn’t even look up.
“What I gotta tell you!? Not while I’m counting! I swear if I lose my place…. “
“Unless it’s important. Right? Well, maybe this isn’t, but…”
Nick held one hand up, his gaze still intent on the stack he was counting up. He finished it off, threw a sticky note on the current stack and scrawled a number on it.
“Ok, what. What is so important that you’re actually still standing there.”
“It’s about Heather.”
Nick looked up, squinted hard at Johnny to bring him into better focus. “You believe this one? That’s how many now.”
“Fifth one.But I think this guys on the level. For one thing, he didn’t want to tell me. His wife though, she wouldn’t shut up about it. Plus I was persuasive.” He held up a hand to forestall Nick. “Diplomatically. So this guy, he seen a lady walk a girl out of the building in the rain. He recognised her picture, even after I showed him three other kids.”
“Huh… what’s this woman look like, the one who walked her out.”
“5’ 5” or so… Dark hair, cut short. It wasn’t that what got me though… he said she was tough looking. Carried herself like she owned the street.”
Nick’s mind started narrowing down the possibilities.
“What car? He get a good look at it?”
“Ummm.. .yeah…. one sec…” He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a little notebook. “Black Toyota something… Corolla maybe. Older, passenger car.”
Nick let that settle in, sifting through thoughts. Suddenly it dawned on him. What’s that tough little thing’s name… Stephanie’s friend, what’s her name again…. Ginny? Jean? No…. Dammit….
“I got a headache. Let’s grab dinner. Hey, Johnny… how do you like your steak done?”
“Medium-now!”
“Ok, hold up, I have to lock this stuff up. Wait for me outside.”
Johnny left, and Nick sat thinking for a minute. Nothing else came to him, so he dug out his cell phone and dialed.
“Hey! Stephi! How’s my baby sister?” He listened with feigned interest.
“That’s good to hear. And Mom?” As he eyed his fingernails. And waited.
“So just get her out more often. Why don’t you..” She interrupted.
“Stephi….” Impatient, he rolled his eyes at the ceiling, raising one hand in a Why Me,Why Now gesture.
“Well, I’ll talk to her about it…. I can’t tomorrow… Listen, Stephi… Ste…” He paused, his non-phone hand clenching and releasing.
“Alright I promise I will. Don’t bust my balls. Yeah. Listen, I wanted to ask you something. That friend of yours, the shorter, tough lookin’ one. No, not the weightlifter. Jean? Jeanie? (pause) JANICE, yeah, that’s it. She does something with the state, right?” As he listened, his eyebrows raised. “Family Protective Services, huh? Interesting… You still hang with her? Yeah? Well, that’s good you keep in touch. Single, huh? That’s fabulous. Nevermind why I’m askin’. No I don’t think she’s cute. NO, I’m not askin’ that.” He palmed his face, knowing his sister he’d never hear the end of this line of thinking. He had to cut her off.
“Listen, babe, I got a thing I gotta do right now. Right. I’ll see you in a few days. Yes, I’ll do it already, shut the fuck up.” He paused, smiled at her inventive invectives. She was awesomely vicious at times and he loved it. “Yeah, same to you. Love you too Stephi. Love to Mom. Ok, bye.”
*Click* he closed the phone.
He turned to the desk, stacking the envelopes and putting them in the safe.
So… Family Fucking Protective Services. How about that.