Jingles was shoulder-deep in paperwork when his phone rang. The interruption annoyed him, but he bit it back when he recognized Shane’s newest number. “Yeah?”
“You losing your touch, or what?”
The biker’s mocking laugh set his nerves right back on edge. “What the fuck you talkin’ about?” he snapped.
“Your girl’s takin’ a day off to spend with her husband,” Shane scoffed. “I thought she’d have left the little guy by now!”
“What?”
“Check your phone.”
He did, and felt a hot surge of anger when he read Crystal’s text. “Fuck me! Damn, now I’m pissed! I have some people coming in tonight to meet her! Fuck!”
“Sorry, dude,” Shane replied evenly. “I was just calling to break your balls. I’ll let you go.”
“No problem.” Jingles swore as he ended the call. Tonight was important. His international business partners were arriving, and they all wanted to meet Crystal before the auction. Sample the goods for themselves, make sure she was worth the high price he’d set…which would soar even higher once the bidding began.
I’ve potentially got over a million dollars riding on her, and she fuckin’ takes the day off? Fuckin’ bitch!
Okay, maybe tonight wasn’t absolutely critical. They’d be here for a few days; she could meet them tomorrow or later in the week. But damn it, he was still pissed. And he was getting sick of her, sick of her needy bullshit. He just wanted the whole thing over.
The bidding process was simple; the customer with the highest offer would purchase Crystal. It was a blind process, not an open auction, so no one knew what the other competition was bidding. Every six hours, he’d notify them all of the current bid, and they’d continue to revise their offers. When the twenty-four hour window expired, he’d deliver her to the winner.
He planned to open bids at $500k. Since it was such a high amount, his customers wanted to meet her personally. They’d all seen and loved the videos he’d sent them, and had indicated they were willing to go higher. But they still wanted to see her for themselves.
He’d receive half the purchase price immediately; the other half would be wired to his account when he delivered Crystal. It was a good system, and it was making him a surprising amount of money.
The auction can’t come soon enough. I don’t care how good she is in the sack, I’m getting tired of her.
Just a few more weeks.
The irony of his current business structure made him smile; his time in prison had taught him so many things! He’d always kept a few girls working for him, even though his primary business was drugs. But he’d learned, in prison, how to combine the two safely and profitably. Now he could handle high-end women, who sold for very high prices, and middle- to low-end women.
Most ‘functional’ addicts…‘low-intensity addicts,’ the prison drug treatment counselors had called them…had a routine, a set time every day, when they could use Meth and then go about their lives normally. And many of them could continue to function for years that way. But Meth was a high-speed chase that always won in the end, and left a wreckage of damaged lives, loved ones, and relationships in its wake.
The challenge was managing the women and their addictions until he could arrange a buyer, then get rid of them. It was almost too easy. If the girls didn’t overdose, they were sold overseas or south of the border…for a huge profit, of course. The contacts he’d made in prison were more than willing to take them off his hands. They didn’t care if the girls were high-end, low-end, or somewhere in the middle. They took all kinds.
Sex trafficking was a multi-billion dollar worldwide operation. No international borders or law enforcement agencies had ever been able to stop them, and they operated with almost no interference. In some countries, the government officials were so corrupt that they actually protected the sex traffickers, and facilitated the movement of individuals. It was an ugly, brutal business…but it was also highly lucrative.
Many of his contacts used increased addiction and violence to control their girls. They didn’t care if the women were strung out and barely conscious, and neither did their customers. But they focused on quantity over quality, preferring girls who could be sold on street corners and in brothels.
Jingles considered himself too classy to deal with common whores and prostitutes; his specialty was gorgeous high-quality women like Crystal. The profit margin was unbelievably high…and since his best customers were overseas, there was considerably less exposure to his organization. It was a solid business arrangement that had done well for several years.
Sales to Europe, Southeast Asia, or the Middle East were less common than to Mexico, but they were extremely lucrative. Either way, it made disposal easy and painless, and limited his organization’s exposure to law enforcement. Murder received too much attention in the U.S.; it was a lot easier for the girls to disappear in other countries. He didn’t give a damn what happened to them after he sold them. Business was business.
Tim had fucked that up tonight, and he was seriously pissed. Crystal would pay the penalty; she was going to find out firsthand what it was like to be without Meth for a few days. Then, once her cravings made her desperate, he’d up the ante.
Bitch better fall in line, and soon!
Smiling, he called Shane back. His new delivery girl would be transporting coolers today, and she’d be a decent substitute for Crystal. She was white, had big tits, and she loved Meth. She wasn’t nearly as picky about how she used her pussy, either. Sherrod had banged her on her second delivery, after he’d given her a hit of Meth, and she already wanted to dance at his club.
I’ll throw her in with Crystal. Two blondes with big tits will push the overall price higher.
She wasn’t nearly as pretty, so she wouldn’t bring as high a price, but it didn’t matter. Blondes were always popular with his customers, especially the ones from Southeast Asia and the Middle East. He’d buy her cheap from the Lone Star Blades, then sell her for a huge profit.
“Shane?”
“Oh, shit,” the biker immediately laughed. “I know that tone of voice, and it usually costs me money. What do you want?”
Jingles grinned. “Fuck you. I want to borrow one of your girls tonight…my new delivery girl, the one with the big tits. Actually,” he added, thinking it over, “I want to borrow as many as you can spare. Anyone you think will be ready within the next six months.”
“No shit?” Shane laughed. “Wow. Okay, I’ll get on it, and send them over.”
“Tell them we’re having a party,” Jingles instructed, “and I’ll pay every girl $2k just for showing up. We’ll also have Meth and Coke available for anyone who wants it.”
“Done.”
“Thanks, Shane. Always good doing business with you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Shane rolled his eyes in wry amusement. “Let me get to work.”
Tonight wasn’t a total loss, Jingles thought in satisfaction as he set the phone down. In addition to the two blondes, he had another stripper who was ready to be sold; she was a pretty Latin walk-in who’d been stripping for about four months. She’d come with an existing drug habit, and she’d fallen hard…too hard…for Meth. He needed to unload her quickly.
He thought again about Crystal, and irritably shook his head. Normally he would have given up by now, and cut the bitch loose. She could find Meth somewhere else, and he could move on to someone who was less work. But his customers were already offering unbelievably large amounts for her. He had to deliver her.
Bitches like Crystal don’t come along very often, he thought maliciously. Gotta make the most of ’em. Yeah, she’s worth it…but I’m running out of patience.
Tim’s and Crystal’s night had gone well. They’d had a great time; dinner had been excellent, and the restaurant had been very romantic. Neither of them had worried about the cost because, despite their personal turmoil, they were both doing so well financially.
They’d bought several bottles of wine during their tours, and brought them home. Tim took the bottles from Crystal as they walked in the trailer, and thoughtfully waved her toward the couch. “I’ll put these away,” he smiled. “You just rest and relax.”
She released a weary sigh. “Thanks, baby.”
She’d been exhausted all day, and now she was really battling her Meth cravings. This was just about when she normally took a hit, and her body was reminding her that it needed the drug. Badly. Fatigue was the first symptom; irritability soon followed. Then she got the shakes.
She laid her head back on the cushion and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Being on Meth was wonderful; going into withdrawal was hell!
“Tired?” Tim murmured from the kitchen.
She mustered a faint smile. “Yeah. I didn’t sleep real well last night, and someone wore me out this morning, then kept me busy all day. I’m wiped!”
“Wore you out, huh?”
She opened one eye, and saw him smirking a little. “Yes, you wore me out…and I’m not sure I have the energy for a repeat performance.”
He chuckled, and settled down beside her. “Don’t worry. I can see you’re tired. Want to go lie down?”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
He helped her to her feet, guided her into the bedroom, then gently kissed her and shut the door. It’s the Meth, he thought wearily when he returned to the kitchen for a beer. It’s draining all her energy. She’s got to quit, even if it takes rehab.
Graduation couldn’t come soon enough. Once he was officially done with school, he’d find some way to get her off Meth.
If we’re going to have a future together, it can’t include drugs. But even if we split up, I can’t leave her addicted. I’d never forgive myself.
He needed help, though. Meth was highly addictive, and seductive because the high lasted so long and felt so good. And she wasn’t likely to listen to him, especially if he was the only one begging her to quit.
Darla, he thought suddenly. Crystal always listens to her. She hates me, but she loves her little girl. She’ll do anything for her!
He wasn’t looking forward to meeting with her, but he knew it was the right decision. The two women had a special relationship, and if anyone could influence Crystal, it would be her mother. Besides, Darla had drunk and smoked herself silly when she was younger, but she’d never tolerated drugs. She’d even put her foot down about weed, so he knew she wouldn’t approve of Crystal’s Meth habit.
She’d never had much use for him, and he knew she didn’t approve of Crystal marrying him. She’d never been rude or hostile, but she’d always treated him like a mistake. That still made him angry. Since when was loving your daughter not enough?
Sighing, he finished his beer, threw it in the trash, then stepped outside and flipped open his cell phone.
“Darla?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“It’s Tim,” he said calmly. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. What can I do for you?” she asked shortly. She’d never bothered with pleasantries, or polite inquiries about his family or his work.
He swallowed hard. “I need your help with Crystal, and wondered if I could stop by sometime this week. Whenever’s convenient for you. I’ll make time.”
She hesitated for a long moment, and he wondered if she was confused, or even worried about this call. Despite being married to Crystal for several years, he didn’t know her very well.
Finally she demanded, “My baby in trouble, Tim?”
“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted, “but I’m worried about her. I need your experience.” And though it tweaked his pride, he soberly added, “I need your help.”
She hesitated again, then said, “Come by tomorrow. I’ll make dinner, and we can talk about what’s worrying you. I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll try.”
He felt a weight slide off his shoulders, and released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” Then he thought he heard a smile in her voice. “Oh, and bring something for dessert, will you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Crystal spent an absolutely horrible night. She tossed and turned, froze and then sweated, and could only sleep a few minutes before her cravings woke her again.
As soon as Tim kissed her goodbye, she searched the trailer twice, hoping to find just a few fragments of the potent drug.
Maybe I hid some here, or there…or maybe…
Her mind ran in feverish circles, and always came back around to her craving.
I’m in control. I’m in control! I can do this! I don’t need Meth to function!
It became her mantra, even as she kept searching. Time slowed to a crawl. She checked her clock constantly as she struggled to keep from shaking with need. Everything made her irritable now. Her clothes were too tight, too loose. The trailer was too hot, then it was too cold.
Shane finally texted her the pick-up location and time, and she heaved a deep sigh of relief. The sooner she got started, the sooner she’d see Jingles. The sooner she’d get more Meth.
The sooner I’ll feel better, like my old self.
Briefly she considered smoking just a little before she started making her deliveries. Would anyone notice just a tiny bit of Meth missing from the coolers?
No! Get hold of yourself! You promised you’d never be high on a delivery…and you control the Meth, not the other way around!
Shane would be pissed if she broke her word, and so would Jingles. He might even stop supplying her if she broke into a shipment. She wasn’t willing to risk it.
Breathing deeply, she hurried into the kitchen. The very thought of food made her slightly nauseous, but she didn’t want to lose any more weight. She choked down a sandwich, chugged a soda, then forced herself to drink an energy booster more slowly.
She felt a bit better when the sugar hit her system. But she realized, as she piled her dishes in the sink, that she had no idea what she’d just eaten. Her cravings had taken all her attention.
I ate something, that’s all that matters.
When it was finally time to leave, she bolted from the trailer as if it was on fire. Cliff was waiting for her at the pick-up location. He tried to chat with her, but she shut him down quickly. Finally, grumbling loudly, he stuffed the coolers into her trunk and waved her away. Her trusty GPS already held the first address, so she selected it and took off.
She had to remind herself several times to slow down. Getting pulled over for speeding is the last thing you need right now! Still, she couldn’t help wondering why her deliveries had shrunk from six coolers to only three. Was she in trouble?
Normally she hung around a bit to flirt with her recipients, but today she just dropped the coolers off and left. She needed to see Jingles, and she didn’t know which craving was stronger: to fuck him, or smoke Meth!
But her hopes were dashed when she stepped inside the club because Sherrod, not Jingles, was sitting at the bar. She smiled brightly, and set the cooler down beside him. “Hi, Sherrod,” she said, trying to be cheerful.
He kept staring at his phone, barely even acknowledging her presence. “Crystal.”
“How’s it going?”
“Fine,” he said coolly.
Normally he was at least polite! Baffled, she turned and headed for Jingles’ office.
“He’s busy, Crystal. You’ll have to wait.”
She stopped, and turned back around. Though she tried to keep her voice calm, she suspected he could hear her growing alarm. “When will he be available?”
The faintest ghost of a smile curved his lips. “It could be a while. Why don’t you sit down and have a drink while you wait?”
She clasped her hands together. “Have I done something wrong?”
Finally he set his phone down, and looked disdainfully at her. Bitch is beautiful, but Jingles should have dropped her a long time ago. She’s not worth all this effort. We could sell her to the guys in Vegas, and be done with her.
“Where were you yesterday?” he demanded.
She blinked in confusion. “I was with my husband.”
“Oh. That’s sweet,” he sneered. “Well, you picked a really shitty night to stay home with your man. Jingles had some important folks he wanted you to meet last night.”
She ignored his ridiculing voice, and quickly shook her head. “I didn’t know Jingles was having visitors. I’d have come in if I’d known!”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t get your text until it was too late,” he snapped. “Why the fuck didn’t you call him? You know he don’t always read his texts right away! The guy’s a businessman, Crystal, and you sent him a fucking text?”
“Shit.” He was right, of course; she hadn’t been thinking clearly. Embarrassed color flushed her pale cheeks.
“Yeah, shit is right!” he agreed. “Fortunately he had another white girl who was available. She came in and sat with the customers.” Then his smile twisted with malice as he dug the knife deep. “They really liked her. Jingles liked her, too! They left right away, and he had the limo take them to one of his other clubs. I hear they had a great time there, too! She just plain threw herself at him!”
Anger and jealousy churned in her stomach. She knew Jerrod was baiting her, trying to make her jealous, and unfortunately it was working. But if she bit off Sherrod’s head, it would only backfire. She looked away for a minute, breathed, deeply, and regained her control. “I’m glad he was able to salvage the evening,” she said calmly. “I’d like to apologize to him. Will you check and see if he’s available…please?”
Jerrod stared at her in disgust, then shook his head and slid off the barstool. When he picked up the cooler, he headed toward the kitchen, not Jingles’ office. “I’ll check with him in a minute,” he shot back over his shoulder. “Wait there.”
There didn’t seem to be anything else she could do, so she meekly obeyed. The bartender handed her a soda. “Here you go, Crystal.”
It struck her suddenly that she’d never really spoken to him before; Jingles had always been waiting when she’d arrived, and they’d immediately started talking to each other. The bartender had always just smiled, and handed her a drink.
“Thank you,” she smiled. “How long have you worked here?”
He shrugged. “Since the place opened. It’s changed owners over the years, but I’ve always been allowed to stay on. Jingles is the best owner I’ve worked for,” he confided, “and I don’t plan on leaving. Money’s good, and so is the view.” He grinned, and winked slyly at her.
She laughed. “You’re so bad!”
“Hey, I’m a guy,” he shrugged. “Besides, I have a little girl in my life, and she takes up all my time.”
“You have a daughter?” She blinked at him in surprise. “I want to hear about her, but first, tell me your name.”
“Marcus,” he smiled, and held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
The irony of his greeting made her smile. “Nice to meet you, too. Now tell me about your little girl.”
His face lit up as he talked about his daughter, and she couldn’t help smiling back at him. Listening to him made the strong Meth cravings fade just a little, because it gave her something to focus on.
“She sounds amazing,” she finally commented. “I’d like to meet her sometime.”
“Yeah, I’m a lucky dad.”
Crystal nodded. “And her mom?”
The light in his eyes dimmed. “She passed away about a year after my daughter was born.”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” He was obviously still dealing with the loss, and she felt horrible for making him sad. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s okay.” He managed a wan smile. “It’s been three years since she left us, and I’ve learned to adjust. I’m okay now, and my daughter doesn’t remember her. That’s a good thing.”
She knew she shouldn’t ask any more questions, but curiosity got the better of her. “Do you mind if I ask how she died?” she murmured.
He looked straight into her eyes. “Meth overdose,” he said quietly. “I tried to get her to quit, but she wouldn’t. Kept saying she had it under control. I loved her, and trusted her, so I didn’t push.” He wiped the bar with a damp rag, then added, “I was torn up at first, but then Jingles bought this club, and made me the head bartender. I got a nice raise and flexible hours, so I’m able to take my girl to school, and pick her up before I come here. And I have a great babysitter. It’s cool.”
“Wow.” She wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so finally she just said, “I’m glad things worked out for you. I’d love to meet your daughter sometime.”
“Sure thing, Crystal.”
She was about to shift to another subject when Sherrod’s deep voice echoed across the room. “Crystal! Jingles is ready for you!”
“Thank you!” she called back, but he was already disappearing. Shrugging, she turned to smile at Marcus one last time. “It was nice talking with you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to introduce myself.”
“No worries,” he smiled, and extended his fist so she could bump knuckles with him. “Don’t keep Jingles waiting. We’ll talk again soon.”
Jingles was sitting behind his desk, industriously tapping away at his laptop, when she nervously slipped into the room. She ached to dash over and kiss him, but she wasn’t sure how he’d react, so instead she took a seat across from him and waited for him to make the first move.
He continued to work for a few minutes, then briefly glanced up. “Hey.”
“Hey, back,” she said softly.
“I missed you last night.”
She clenched her hands a little tighter. “I’m really sorry,” she said sincerely. “I should have called you, and spoken to you personally. I would have come in if I’d known you had people you wanted me to meet.”
“You’re important to my business, Crystal,” he replied, still looking at his computer. “You’re a huge draw for my best customers. They want to meet you, not another dancer…you!”
“You’re right.” She dropped her gaze, and felt even guiltier than before. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
His answering snort of disbelief made her stare at him in surprise. “What?”
“How can you say that?” he demanded, glaring at her over the compact screen. “‘It’ll never happen again.’ You’re married! Of course it will happen again!”
“Jingles…” She drew out his name, then flashed him an imploring smile. “I’m here just about every night without fail, and I’m always available to your VIP customers. Last night was an exception, that’s all!”
He shut his laptop with a crisp snap. “Fine. But it still doesn’t change the fact that you chose to spend time with your husband over me. Does it?”
His meaningful look made her flush, and she stared down at her hands. “No.”
“I have feelings, too,” he said softly. “It’s not easy for me when my girlfriend decides she’d rather be with her husband. Believe me,” he added with a wry grin, “I know how that sounds.”
It was an unusual situation, to put it mildly. She managed a wobbly smile.
“Last night I realized something,” he continued, and looked grim. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be intimate anymore. I’m sorry.”
She looked as though he’d struck her. “What? Are you kidding?” she stammered.
“You heard me,” he said firmly. “I’ve been pushing you to get serious, and you’re obviously not ready. It’s not a good idea anyway, considering you have a husband. I’m sorry.”
“Jingles…”
He held up a hand. “I think we need to take a break, Crystal.”
“No!” Anger speared through her growing panic. “I don’t want to take a break. I just want more time to think things through!”
“You’ve had time,” he countered. “I need a break. I need time to sort out my feelings, and that’ll give you time to work out your situation, too.”
Hot tears flooded her eyes as the panic spiked. She didn’t want their relationship to end!
Cautiously she stood up and walked around to his side of the desk, then lowered herself onto his lap. “Please be patient with me,” she pleaded, kissing him. “I realize my situation is frustrating for you, and I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay.” He faked a rueful smile. “Don’t you agree, though, that spending some time apart will help you straighten out your situation?”
Depression made her shoulders sag, and she dropped her head on his shoulder. How she enjoyed the feel of his body! One last time? No, it wouldn’t be. She wouldn’t let it!
Slyly she slipped her hand into his shirt, and began caressing his chest. A chuckle rumbled through him before he eased her away. “No, we’re not having sex,” he chided.
She favored him with her best seductive smile. “You’re killing me!”
“It’s worse for me, believe me!”
That made her laugh before obediently sinking back down into her chair again. Then she stared at her feet and murmured, “There’s something else.”
He already knew what she needed, but deliberately played along. “What’s that?”
“Ummm…I could use…” She glanced quickly at his safe.
“No.” Firmly he shook his head. “That will not help you make any decisions.”
“Baby…”
“No,” he said again, and vigorously shook his head. “Meth isn’t part of your life with Tim. If you decide you’d rather be with him, then you won’t need it. And if you decide you want to be with me, I don’t want that decision to be tainted by Meth.” He met her anxious gaze, and saw the desperation lurking there. “I want you to choose me because of how you feel, not because I can supply you with drugs.”
He was right, of course he was…but how was she going to survive without another hit? Her cravings were nearly unbearable now, and they were only going to get worse!
I can do it, she thought firmly. I’m in control, not the Meth.
“Well, then, I guess I’ll go get ready,” she said, and managed a determined smile.
He hadn’t been sure whether she’d cave in or rally to the challenge, but a wise man prepared for both options. “Wait,” he said before she’d taken a single step, and pulled out an envelope. He pushed it across the desk as she slid back into her chair. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s five thousand dollars. You can dance here tonight, but I want you to dance at the other club for the rest of the week,” he said bluntly. “It’ll be easier on both of us if we’re apart while we think things over.”
Sudden fury lit her eyes. “If I’m not dancing here, you don’t have to pay me. What are you paying me for, to leave?”
“Crystal, wait…”
“No! Screw you!” she snapped, and launched to her feet. “If you want me to get lost and never come back, just say so!” Tears began to stream down her cheeks. “But don’t you dare pay me to leave like some two-bit whore!”
He jumped up just as quickly, and the anger in his own dark eyes held her frozen while he rounded the desk and clamped both hands on her shoulders. “You piss me off, woman!” he said thickly. “Now shut the fuck up, and listen.”
What else could she do? Nodding, she wiped her eyes.
“I know you make more money at my club, and I don’t want you to suffer financially while we take this break,” he insisted. “I’m not an asshole. I’m giving you this money because I care, not because I want you to leave!”
“What?” She’d heard every word, but ached to hear him say it again.
He sighed, and forced a convincing smile. “Please take the money. It’s about what you’d make in a week here. You can dance here tonight…but then I want you to spend the rest of the week at Joe’s. I meant what I said, Crystal. I do care about you, and don’t want you to leave for good.”
“I can dance here tonight?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And I’ll even hook you up with a little Meth. Just for tonight, though. That’s it. You’ll have to go without for the rest of the week. We both need at least a few days away from each other to decide where we go from here.”
Delighted, she clung to him, and kissed him passionately several times, before he eased back. “Listen, the clients I entertained last night are going to stop by tonight, too,” he commented in an off-hand voice. “The VIP room upstairs is reserved just for them, and they want to meet you. So I want you upstairs all night.”
“Great!” she said excitedly. “Sounds like fun!”
He laughed, and held her at a safe distance. “Go, before we end up naked.”
“Awww.” She pouted winsomely, and smiled up at him. “I’d be happy to get naked for you.” Then she took a deep breath, and slowly continued, “I’ll even get naked for your friends. I mean it.”
Lust glittered in his eyes as he began to smile. “Seriously? Don’t tease me now!”
“I’m not teasing, not at all! I’ve thought about it, and I want to be a part of your life. I’ll go get changed now,” she said happily, “and head up to the VIP room. It’s going to be a fun night!”
“You are amazing,” he said quietly, then walked to the door, and opened it with a flourish and a deep bow. “Now get out of here, you sexy little bitch! Go get dressed, and make it racy tonight! When you come back, I’ll have a little something special for you.”
She laughed, saluted, and teasingly pinched his ass. “Yes, sir! Be back soon!”
Sherrod watched her hurry to the locker room, then headed for Jingles’ office. “Well?” he demanded.
Jingles had settled onto the couch, and was watching his huge flat-screen TV. “It’s done,” he shrugged, glancing up. “She’ll shake her ass for the buyers tonight, and then be back on Friday. We’ll make up, and then I’ll own her ass. I’ll get my attorneys working on a quickie divorce. We’ll start the auction right afterwards, and then I’ll be rid of her needy ass.”
“Damn, boss, you rock!” Sherrod laughed, impressed. “How’d you do it?”
Jingles laughed with him. “I’m a genius.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sherrod waved that away. “C’mon, boss. Spill it!”
Jingles sighed and muted the TV, then grinned. “Basic psychology,” he bragged. “Crystal’s from small-town America, a place where nothing new ever happens. She’s surrounded by the same faces and places every day. Suddenly she becomes a stripper, and her life changes. It’s exciting, and she starts making decent money. Now when she goes home, her life seems boring and dull.”
He stood up, walked over to the desk, and poured himself a drink. It was the same high-quality Scotch Tyrone had preferred. He saved it for special occasions, and tonight definitely qualified. Smiling, he downed half the glass.
“You throw some Meth into the equation, and now she has a reason to keep coming back,” he continued. “A big reason, because that shit hooks people quick. She’s no exception. It don’t take a doctor to see that she’s suffering some strong cravings. She’s probably telling herself over and over that she’s got it under control, but she doesn’t.”
“There’s gotta be more to it than that,” Sherrod commented dubiously.
He sat back down, and sipped more Scotch. “Emotions. She’s married, right? So I wanted her to have an emotional connection to the club…and to me. A surprising amount of white girls fantasize about being with a black man.” He shrugged. “I used that fantasy, along with drugs and lots of sex, to form an emotional bond with her. That’s why I’ve been dating her for the last several months. Her Meth addiction, combined with that physical and emotional connection to me, will definitely finish her marriage. No question about it. So, the bottom line? She’s finally ready to leave her husband.”
Sherrod shot him a knowing grin, and made him laugh. “Okay, yeah. I wanted to fuck her, too. Bitch is good in bed! If Dulce wouldn’t cut your nuts off, you should try her out!”
“Dulce don’t need to know about it,” Sherrod chuckled. “I’m going to quit her, anyway…bitch is crazy, man, and I’m talking homicidal-crazy!”
“That’s your problem to solve.” Jingles shrugged, and took another sip. “So here we are: Crystal’s hooked on Meth, and she’s got a serious emotional attachment to me. Her husband’s boring, and he’s dead-set against Meth and stripping. Of course she’ll choose the high life!
“By Friday, she’ll be so strung out and desperate for a fix, I won’t even have to ask her about divorcing him. She’ll suggest it herself,” he predicted, “right before she begs me for another hit.
“Before she left here,” he added, meeting Sherrod’s eyes, “she even offered to get naked for my customers tonight.”
Sherrod’s eyebrows shot up. “No shit? Honestly, boss, I never thought she was gonna crack!”
“She definitely took longer than I expected,” Jingles admitted, “but our customers are going to get a real good look at her tonight. Then in a few weeks she’ll be divorced, and her husband will be a bad memory. I’ll take her to Mexico for a little celebration, hand her over, and get a huge fucking payday.”
“How long will she last after she’s sold?” Jerrod asked curiously.
“Impossible to say.” Jingles lifted one shoulder in an idle shrug. “It depends on the final buyer. If she ends up with the Europeans, she’ll probably last several years. They’ll keep her hooked on Meth or heroin, and use her in high-dollar brothels at first. That’s their normal model. Eventually she’ll end up on the street, but it’s just business with them…they’ll make back their investment, plus a nice profit.
“If the Arabs have the highest bid, though, she won’t last six months…if she’s lucky.” His expression turned grim. “If she’s very, very unlucky, she might last a full year. Ragheads are hard on white women. The place is full of obscenely-rich sexually repressed men, and they really like to see white women abused.”
Calmly, as though he was discussing the stock market, he took another sip of his Scotch. “A gorgeous blue-eyed natural blonde will be extremely popular over there…and they can do whatever they want to her. No law enforcement, no human rights organizations…not even other women will be able to help her.”
He switched the TV channel, nodded to himself, then glanced at Sherrod again. “They’re fucking sick, buddy. It wouldn’t surprise me if they buy her specifically to see her abused and degraded. It’s not a business to them. She’ll be viewed solely as entertainment…the kind of entertainment the Romans had in their Coliseum.”
Sherrod looked at his boss for a long moment before softly murmuring, “Damn.”