NAC & The Holly Group - Box set: Alpha Team
Page 63
That night the bastard tried to molest her. When Peyton fought back, he hit her and kept on hitting her. Her saving grace, the pit bulls the bastard had kept and abused in the backyard. Whether Judy knew it or not, she had bonded with them and they to her. She loved them. They were a scraggly bunch, but Peyton could relate to them. She often shared her measly dinners with them, so they would have something in their stomachs. She knew what it felt like to be hungry all the time. When Judy’s parties got to be too much, Peyton would hide out with the dogs, often sharing her warmth with them so they all could sleep. Looking back, she really was naïve. Those dogs didn’t need her warmth, they were protecting the only person who ever showed them a bit of kindness.
While Butch was attacking her, the dogs were trying to get into the house—barking, jumping, and scratching at the door, causing a racket. The neighbors noticed and called the police. Funny, the neighbors never once mentioned Peyton’s screams. Then again, those weren’t the first they’d heard. But the dogs barking, yeah, those caused them to call the police; funny how people are.
When the police got to the house, hearing the dogs and Peyton’s screams, they broke in and rescued her. She spent six weeks in the hospital because of the damage Butch had inflicted. With the authorities involved, Judy was quick to sign over custody to the state. Peyton’s only regret was she was never able to go back and save the dogs; the county had put them down, saying they were vicious. They had attacked several of the officers, but Peyton knew they were only trying to get to her, and she felt responsible for their deaths. Those dogs had saved her life that night. Even now, she held their memory close to her heart. The connection she’d had with them spearheaded her love of dogs and ultimately, created her business.
A honk of a horn snapped Peyton out of those horrible and sad memories. She needed to get her head in the game to deal with Frank, not think about that bastard Butch or her mother. Peyton took a couple of minutes to calm herself. All these memories of the past were really catching up to her. She hated remembering, but still needed to. It was a double-edged sword. Her motto in life should be you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.
After a couple of deep breaths and few words in an attempt to psyche herself up for what was to come, Peyton decided to make sure the look she had so hastily put together was still holding up. Looking into the mirror in her visor, she almost wanted to cry because the person staring back was not Peyton. She was a hollow, desperate replica of her worse nightmare. Peyton looked like Judy, and that almost gutted her.
Getting out of the Jeep, she fixed the wedgie which had lodged itself in her butt crack and started walking. She laughed a little to herself; yeah now, I really fit in. How classy was that move? To get her courage up, she began to count her steps, paying close attention to the way the gravel crunched under her heels. The counting helped her focus because God knew, she was pretty sure if she had to stay in the stripper heels she was wearing too long, she would surely break an ankle.
Walking into The Bush Club, Peyton looked around. The place was a typical, seedy strip bar. The smoke was so thick, it created a fog around the dim lights. It was still pretty early, so the crowd was at least somewhat thin. A poor woman was on the stage and looked about as enthusiastic as a person about to get a root canal. Peyton watched her for a bit. She would walk around the pole hanging in the middle of the stage, shake her butt a little, then bend over, rise, and repeat. It was sad really. Peyton had a weird fascination with strippers, often watching YouTube videos of them performing on the pole. Some of them were awesome. The strength and talent it took to carry out the more complicated moves was astounding. Peyton even took a pole dancing exercise class and found she like it a lot, but this woman wasn’t doing anything but showing the goods. No talent, form, or anything. Peyton was disappointed because this was the first real strip club she’d ever been in, and it was bad, but then again, why should she expect anything more from Frank Frost or her mother.
Taking her eyes off the dancer, Peyton looked around to find her mark. It took her a couple of sweeps around the dimly lit room to locate the man, but there in all his glory was Frank Frost, sitting in the corner, leering at the dancer on stage, his signature bottle of booze sitting in front of him, his beer chaser waiting by its side. Typical Frank. He wasn’t her worse step-dad, but the man always managed to give her the creeps. He was mean and treated Bastian like dirt which lowered him even further on Peyton’s scale. But right now, he was a means to an end. She needed information, and she was determined to get it.
Frank Frost was a big man in both height and width. Once his build had been all muscle, but now, it looked as though it was all girth of the flabby kind. The years had not been kind to the man. Peyton could hardly believe he was the same person she remembered as a child. He was disheveled and dirty, but Peyton knew it was him because of his eyes. Bastian had those same eyes. They were a weird combination of blue, green, gray, and brown. Peyton had never seen eyes like that before meeting this man and Bastian. The color wasn’t the only unusual thing about them though because, at times, she could swear both men’s eyes emitted a glow. Whether it was a play of the light or something else, Peyton never knew, but those eyes Peyton would always recognize. His hair was stringy and oily, and his skin had a bit of a yellowish hue Peyton could see even in the dim light. He also looked as though it had been a while since a bar of soap had touched any part of him; Peyton was grateful for the tiny bottle of hand sanitizer she placed in her Jeep. She might have to stop and get more before the night was through. She was going to have to get close and wasn’t looking forward to it.
She was used to dealing with shit. Considering she cleaned out dog kennels three times a day, her tolerance was pretty high, but if the man smelled anything like he looked, she was in trouble. Gagging while trying to press Daddy Dearest for information was not the image she wanted to portray. No, she needed to seduce the greasy man. Channeling her mother, Peyton sauntered over to the rotund man, only tripping once on her way because of the high heels. Thankfully, no one paid her any attention.
“Frank? Frank Frost? I thought that was you. Remember me, Peyton Carlton? Judy’s little girl.” Generally saying those words wouldn’t get Peyton a pleasant welcome, but for some reason, Frank and her mother always seemed to have a different type of relationship. He knew she was up to something and accepted it. They really were two peas in a pod.
Peyton thought she looked good, well as good as a person can look trying for whorish with a little desperation mix in. Her mother might not have taught her much, but she definitely gave her inspiration when trying to channel her, and judging by the way her old step dad was looking at her, licking his lips and ogling her cleavage, she had accomplished her goal. Eww.
“Oh, hello there, Peyton,” Frank said never taking his eyes away from her boobs. “Judy’s little girl. Man, you sure have grown up, honey. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll buy you a drink for old time sakes? Damn, honey, you sure have grown up nice, just like your Mama.” The leach was drooling and sweating. Did he honestly think he had a chance? Well, of course, he did, after all, that’s what Peyton wanted him to think. It was still beyond gross, but she would do anything to figure out what Judy was up to and how it could affect Bastian.
Adopting her best flirty look, which consisted of a lot of blinking and pursed lips, Peyton placed her hand on Franks' shoulder, bending down to give him a better view of her cleavage. and,
“No, why don’t you let me buy you a drink? What do you have there, whiskey?” she said, in an icky sweet voice. The man’s eyes were transfixed right where Peyton had wanted them, but she couldn’t help the revulsion she felt. This was wrong on so many levels. Taking a seat next to him, Peyton scooted closer and forced herself to rub his forearm, leaning in to whisper into his freakishly large ear.
“How about I buy us a bottle to share for old time sakes?” she suggested, adding a little giggle at the end of the sentence. Peyton was pretty sure when she moved
away one of his ear hairs actually poked her nose. She was pleased to see the shudder she felt go through her body in disgust was misinterpreted by him as interest on her part and seemed to entice the man even more.
“Well, that’s mighty sweet of you Paige, you know you were always my favorite step kid. Those no-good boys of mine wouldn’t buy me a glass of water if I were on fire, the ungrateful bastards. Always wanted me a little girl; that’s why I got with Judy, you know. Little girls take care of their parents, but you’re not such a little girl, anymore, are you?”
Playing the part, Peyton used one of Judy’s signature moves and ran her hands down her body, only to come back up and push her breast up into place. Looking away from Frank, she motioned for the waitress and ordered the bottle.
Referring to her as Paige didn’t go unnoticed either. Growing up, this man never had time for her or Bastian unless he was pissed about something, and then Bastian usually got the brunt of that attention. The fact the man could not remember her name wasn’t surprising. She stayed out of Frank’s way anyway she could. Now that she had his full attention, his eyes still ogling her cleavage made her hope she was going to get what she came for, answers.
Peyton needed information, and since he was already three sheets to the wind, she knew the bottle she ordered would help her get those answers. But she needed to start this little fact-finding mission ASAP and get what she needed from him while she could before he passed out. The bastard always did when he got too drunk.
“Oh, I thought you only had one son, what’s his name?” Peyton asked in a sickeningly, sweet tone. Peyton could actually feel her brain cells dying as a result of pretending to be a bubble-headed ditz. If she had to lose a few brain cells in the process, what was the big deal, right?
“Yeah, I have four ungrateful bastards who won’t have anything to do with me. I don’t understand it; I fed them and got the old ladies to make sure they went to school with clean fucking clothes. But all they do is bitch—you didn’t love us, you beat our asses, blah blah blah. Ungrateful that’s what they are. If I would’ve left them with their no-good mother, they would have been in worse shape. You know, that oldest one of mine, he’s the most ungrateful brat of them all. He makes real good bank and won’t even buy his daddy a beer, can you believe that? Thinks he’s better than me. That just ain’t right. You wouldn’t do that to your daddy, would you, Paige?”
This man was the worst. Peyton knew why his kids didn’t have anything to do with him, and it wasn’t because he fed and clothed them. No, it was because he was a mean son of a bitch who beat on them every chance he got. She also knew that Bastian’s three brothers spent most of their childhoods with their mothers. This little conversation was going nowhere fast because Frank Frost was living in a fairy tale, believing his untruths or trying to sell them. This was familiar ground to Peyton, after all, it was also Judy’s MO.
“Nope, Frankie, I just bought you a bottle. I’m sorry to hear about your boys, that must hurt,” she said leaning closer and patting him on his shoulder, offering him sympathy she didn’t feel.
“Fuck no, it doesn’t hurt. I don’t need those bastards, but they should pay me back for all the money I had to spend on their worthless asses.”
Frank seemed to faze in and out for a while, then the girl on stage caught his attention. After a few minutes, Peyton knew she needed to bring his attention back to their conversation, so she moved in closer and pressed her ample cleavage against his clammy arm.
“Frankie, don’t you want to catch up with me?” she pouted, pushing her lip out as far as it would go. She knew she looked all kinds of stupid, but hey, if it worked. Going a step further, she started drawing a circle on his greasy chest with her finger, all the while thinking to herself, Eww! Attempting to keep her mind off of this disgusting man, she focused on her hands. Damn, Peyton thought, I should have done something to my fingernails, they look horrible. Like a person who actually worked with their hands for a living, nothing like the manicured long and painted nails Judy so often donned.
“Here, how about another drink?” Pouring the amber liquid into his glass seemed to bring him back to the moment.
“Oh, hey, Pacey, sorry, you know it must be my lucky week, I saw your momma just the other day. That Judy sure does know how to show a man a good time. Do you take after your momma?” he said with a wink, tipping his glass in her direction, nearly spilling it onto the floor.
“Sure do, Frankie,” Peyton answered, still rubbing on the gross man, “she taught me all her best moves, you know, like mother like daughter. Where did you and Mom meet up? I haven’t seen her in a while. Oh, look, you need a refill.”
“Oh, she came here looking for me, wanted to know where one of my kids was. I told her he was up North somewhere that he was too good to talk to his daddy. Pacey, why don’t we make this a proper reunion, give daddy a kiss for old time sakes. Never got to taste the goods back then, you were just a little girl, but you’re not a little girl anymore. Come on give your step-daddy a big ole kiss.”
Peyton actually threw up in her mouth a little.
“Oh, Daddy,” she giggled, “I don’t know, that wouldn’t be right,” she said, playing coy. “How about a little one on the cheek? Did Mom say anything else? What’s she been up to? I’ve meant to call, but you know how she is when she has a mark.” Peyton then forced herself to kiss the smelly man on his enormous jowl; if she had been a second slower, she would have been kissing his lips. The sly old dog turned when she came in for the kiss, yuck. “Here, Daddy, why don’t I fill up your glass; man, you must be thirsty.”
“Hey, Peyton,” Frank said with a bit of venom in his voice, and I knew the gig was up. Playing this game was a mistake. He was better at it, I was way out of my league. Peyton was about to get up to leave when he said, “I might be drunk, but not that drunk, little girl.” Frank continued with his little revelation, “I would’ve thought your Mama would have taught you better than that. Although, she never was all that bright.
“So, here’s how this going to go. You want to know what your Mama wanted with me, and I want to get off. You should already know everything in life comes with a price, the question is, are you willing to pay it?” Shoving back his chair, Frank leaned back and started to undo his pants. “So be a good little girl and give Daddy a hand job or better yet give me a blow job, then I’ll tell you what that bitch wanted. If that’s not your thing, then get the fuck out of here, so I can enjoy the rest of my night, and I’ll think about not telling your Mama you were here the next time she comes crawling back to Good Ole Frank.”
Shit, could she do it, could she give this man a hand job? No way in hell she was giving him a blowjob. No, she really couldn’t, she didn’t even think she would be able to find his penis under the rolls of fat on his stomach. He’d really let himself go. She had one more play in her playbook, the one thing that always got Frank and her mom going.
“Frank, since you were blunt with me, I’m going to be blunt with you. I’m not giving you a hand or blow job. Sorry, but it would be too weird. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure I would be scarred for life after that little experience. What I’m willing to do is pay you for the information I want.”
“Honey,” the bastard had the nerve to laugh, “you don’t have enough money to make this worth my while. I’m going to let you off the hook easy, for old time sake. Now, go on home, you’re a cute little thing, but you’re nothing like your momma. Let me give you some advice though. The next time you want to get a guy to do what you want, flash a little tit or go for his junk. You aren’t good enough to play this game, little girl, time to go home with your tail between your legs. I just wanted to see how far you would go to get what you want. The whole act amused me for a bit, now it’s plain annoying. Now get, I’ve got stuff to do.”
Peyton slammed two thousand dollars on the table. She had more and knew he would want it. Right now, she needed his attention and the bills certainly did that. Frank raised his eyebrow.
Frank started talking, now all business. It seemed good old Mommy Dearest was in deep with some suits. Frank looked into her story because if anyone were going to make money off one of his kids, it would be him. Apparently, they wanted Sebastian and his team’s location and were willing to spend big money for the information. No good. He followed Judy to the suits and decided it wasn’t worth his while. More precisely, the dudes were bad news. Frank wouldn’t say anything more, so Peyton got up to leave.
“Listen, I don’t like that bastard of mine, but you might want to warn him to watch his back, these guys are up to no good. Your momma is in over her head, I think she finally bit off more than she could chew. If she doesn’t get the information they want, you won’t be seeing her again.”
Peyton said goodbye and left. The man might be scum, but she had to give him a little credit, he wasn’t stupid, unlike Judy. What the hell was she involved with now? Peyton knew her next step was to figure out who the suits were, and she knew just how to do it. The CIA had the best facial recognition software out there; it was time to play. Then, she would call Bastian and tell him what was going on. Shit, after she bought a little more time. Now, she needed to come up with the money her mom wanted. Good thing there was always a market for a good hacker.