Permission: The Perversion Trilogy, Book Three

by Frazier, T. M.

  Tricks sighs and looks to Rollo. “Thank you.”

  Rollo frowns, looking as confused as I feel. “For what? I half-expected you to stab me.”

  “Same,” I offer, raising my eyebrows at my girl, who looks anything other than angry. She looks…relieved.

  Tricks exhales. “I never wanted to decide if Mona lives or dies. Rollo, you’ve taken the decision out of my hands. So again, thank you.” She seems lighter, relieved of the burden of the choice. I feel suddenly guilty for not realizing how hard this has been on her. My simple, brutish mind thought an eye for an eye and the decision an easy one, regardless of a past connection. But to Tricks, there is nothing easy about it.

  I’m about to tell her as much when she speaks again. This time to Mona. “But I can’t have you stay in Lacking, or anywhere near me or my family. At least, not anytime soon. I don’t want you to be separated from your brothers, but I need time. Space.” She looks to Mona. “I appreciate what you’ve done for us, but forgiveness isn’t something I’m capable of where you’re concerned. At least, not right now. But I do hope you find everything you’re looking for. I hope you truly change and take this second chance for what it is. A second chance.” Tricks steps up to Mona. “Because if this is all bullshit—”

  “I’ll kill her myself,” Rollo says. “You have my word, but it isn’t bullshit. And I hope you do forgive her, and maybe someday, we can come back.”

  “I hope that, too,” Tricks says, taking a step back from the confusing as fuck couple.

  Rollo wraps his meaty arm around Mona and tips his chin to me before they walk off into the darkness.

  “The men will think I’m weak if I let Rollo get away with betraying us like this,” I say to Tricks.

  “Do you think I’m weak for being grateful not to have to decide on someone’s life?”

  “No, I think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” I tell her, brushing her lips with mine.

  She smiles, and I know a quote is coming next.

  The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

  – Ghandi

  Twenty-Six

  Imogen

  I’m helping Marci at the brothel while Grim and Callum are out looking at potential houses for my parents to purchase. Ma is in the Bedlam living area watching over Rosey, while I sit at the reception desk, attempting to make sense of the computer system.

  “We need a proper receptionist,” I tell Marci as she enters the room with a pile of clean sheets in her hand. “The appointment system isn’t being used properly, if at all. I look down at the calendar on the desk where the girls have been handwriting in appointments instead of entering them in the system. “We can’t properly keep track of accounting unless it’s in the system.”

  “I’ve put an ad out for one, but it’s harder to find someone to work the front desk than it is to find girls willing to work in the back.” She sets the stack of linens down on the counter.

  Emma, one of the Irish ‘temps’ walks through the door with a bright smile on her face.

  Emma, as well as several other of the Irish girls, chose to stay at the brothel once the violence ended. Which was great for the business because not a lot of the women who worked here previously had come back as promised. Between the few women who did come back, and the Irish girls who stayed, we were now fully operational, save for a qualified receptionist.

  “Hey Emma, you don’t by chance know of qualified receptionist, do you?” I ask.

  “I used to be a secretary in Ireland a few years back.”

  “You did?” Marci asks.

  Emma nods. “I did. I ran an office of over fifty employees. I’d be more than happy to fill in for a while until you find someone, and I can help train them if you’d like, but I make too much in the back to sit up front full time.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “That would be amazing.”

  Emma smiles cheerfully. “I’ve got to go set up my room. I’ve got a regular coming in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll let you know when he arrives,” I tell her.

  With a smile, Emma heads down the hall. Marci picks up her stack of linens once more and follows.

  The bell above the door rings. I'm expecting it to be Emma's appointment, but that's not who I find standing before me. My jaw drops when a woman steps tentatively inside and sets down a cardboard box beside her.

  “Leo!” I shout, leaping from the desk, knocking down the chair in the process. I round the counter and throw my arms around her.

  Leo is silent except for a few soft sobs.

  “Leo, what’s wrong? What happened?” I ask, pulling back from her. I keep my hands on her forearms as she looks at me with tear stained eyes.

  Leo's stained black tank top has a severe tear down the seams under her arm, exposing the curve of her right breast. Her denim shorts are worn and filthy. In place of a button, they're being held together with a shoestring. Leo's a thin girl, but now she's downright emaciated. Her shoulder bones are sharp, her clavical pronounced. Her sad eyes are sunken like a skull, surrounded by deep dark circles. Tears, both fresh and old, stain her dirt-smudged cheeks.

  Using her eyes, Leo points to the cardboard box beside her.

  I peer inside, gasping at the contents. An infant, swaddled in a newspaper. “You had a baby!” I exclaim.

  One of the things about being a mother is the incorrect assumption that you somehow have the authority to touch other people's children because we are all part of the same club, and we all need a little help now and again. I don't even think before reaching for the infant, cradling it in my arms. "Shit," I look to Leo, "I didn't ask. Is this alright."

  She nods, smoothing back the child's thick dark hair.

  The baby cries out; its face reddens. I offer it my finger. The baby wraps a chubby little hand around it, pulling it toward his face, he sucks the tip of my finger into its mouth.

  “He’s hungry,” Leo whispers.

  “Do you want a private room to feed him?” I offer.

  She shakes her head and looks to the floor in shame. Her voice trembles. “I…I can’t. I’m polluted. I was clean for a while, but I ..." her eyes water. "I fucked up and...”

  “Shhhh,” I tell her. "Come with me."

  I call out to Marci that I’m stepping away from the desk. She shouts back that she'll be up in a minute.

  Leo follows me as I lead her to the private door that leads to the Bedlam living area. I punch in my code and push open the door.

  My ma stands from the recliner when she sees us come in. Her eyes look to Leo and then to the crying baby in my arms.

  “What do we have here?” she asks.

  “Ma, this is my friend Leo. She was with me at the Los Muertos compound. One of the only people to show me kindness. Leo, this is my mother."

  "Your..." Leo's eyes widen.

  "Yes, my mother," I say proudly. "Trust me. Your shock is nothing compared what mine was when I learned of her."

  "Holy shit," Leo swears, covering her mouth. "You could be twins."

  "That's very kind of you Leo, but I've got some crows feet that might argue with that observation," my mom says, brushing off the compliment, but she's unable to hide the delight in her eyes, and I know for a fact she loves when people tell her how much we look alike.

  My mother stands before me and rubs the back of her finger along the baby's cheek. "And who is this beautiful wee thing?"

  "This is Leo's baby…”

  “Jack,” Leo finishes. “His name is Jack.”

  My mother smiles. "He's lovely. What's wrong, little dear?" she coos. "Are ye hungry?"

  I don't miss Leo's wince.

  “Ma, can you do me a big favor and run to the reservation store and grab Jack some formula?” I ask.

  “Not a problem. I was going to wait until Rosey woke from her nap before heading over there myself for a few necessities, but now that you're here to mind her, I'll pop over and be right back in a gif."

  I a
ppreciate the lie for Leo's sake. Ma was just at that store a few hours ago stocking up in items for the Bedlam fridge. "Thank you," I say.

  “Think nothing of it. It won’t be a bother.” She grabs her purse.

  After she leaves I guide Leo over to the couch.

  Jack's wailing grows louder.

  The store is only fifteen minutes away by car, but thinking of Jack going another thirty minutes without food heightens my maternal anxiety as my heart breaks for both him and Leo.

  “You had a baby,” Leo whispers, looking over at Rosey’s pack-n-play where my baby is fast asleep, clutching her little white blanket, filling the room with the sweet sound of baby snores.

  “I did,” I say over Jack's cries. Suddenly I feel wet. “I think little Jack peed on me,” I say lifting him from my lap.

  “No, I don't think that's it.” Leo stares at my chest where two big wet spots have leaked through my bra and t-shirt.

  “It’s because he’s crying,” I explain. “Rosey’s cries always set them off like this.”

  Jacks little face contorts with unhappiness. His trembling lips expose little red angry gums underneath.

  I look at Leo. I don't want to offend her, but I can't take it anymore. I have to do something. “Would you mind if I.." I start, but stop and start again. “Rosey’s not awake yet to feed, and it would be a more of a favor to me because it’s ridiculously painful if they’re full for too long.”

  “Oh please. Please do,” Leo says, her words filled with relief. "Thank you."

  I lift my shirt and unsnap my bra. It takes little Jack a moment to realize what’s going on, but after a few moments and some hushed words of encouragement from both Leo and myself, he finally takes my nipple in his mouth. His screams replaced with the sound of soft sucks and swallows that sound like little sighs of relief.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Leo says, watching her baby eat. “I came here because I’ve got nowhere to go.” She plants her face in her hands. “EJ, I know it’s a lot to ask, but..." her voice cracks. "Do you think you can take Jack? Just for a while until I can get my shit together. I’ve got to get clean. Get a job. Find a place for us to live.”

  "Do you know who the father is?" I ask, keeping my question judgment free. After all, there was a time when I didn't know who Rosey's father was either.

  She shakes her head.

  “Where have you been living?” I ask.

  “On the streets,” she admits with a sniffle. "Here and there. I've been selling myself trying to keep Jack fed and buy diapers. I mean, it's no different than what I was doing at Los Muertos, except maybe better because I'm getting paid, but worse because now I've got nowhere to go. When I started to show Marco threatened to sell the baby on the black market once it was born. I couldn’t bear the thought. I ran. When Los Muertos collapsed, I thought I could go back to the compound and live with some of the people there. But everyone was gone. It was gone. The city tore the whole thing down."

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I say. “Not that it’s gone, but that you’re in this situation.”

  I look down to baby Jack. He’s unlatched and fast asleep, milk spilling from the side of his open mouth. “He’s milk drunk,” I say.

  I hand Jack over to Leo while I re-clasp my bra and tug down my shirt. I stand and take Jack once more, carrying him over to the changing table where I lay him down. Carefully, and quietly, I remove the newspaper he's wrapped in and clean him the best I can with baby wipes. I change him into a fresh diaper that's a little too big but will make do for now. I wrap him in a fresh white swaddling blanket.

  Leo forces a sad smile. “So will you? Will you take him?” Her knee bounces beneath her folded hands.

  “I’ll do you one better,” I offer. Returning to the couch, I place baby Jack back into his mother's arms.

  Leo raises her eyebrows in question.

  I smile at my old friend and take her hand in mine. “I’ll take you both.”

  * * *

  When I arrive back at the house, Grim is already there. I tell him about Leo and how I’ve given her a room at the brothel for her and her son until I can find her something more permanent. The girls at the brothel were over the moon to have a baby to fawn over. And Ma stayed back for a while to help Leo and little Jack get settled in.

  Grim goes one step further and insists on sending a home-rehab specialist to help Leo get clean. I take his hand in mine. “Thank you.”

  He shrugs. “She was good to you. It’s nothing.”

  “To me, it’s everything,” I tell him. “And, after she’s clean I’d like to train her for the receptionist position.” I tell him. “If it’s okay with you. Marci already agreed and we have someone to train her.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” he says, kissing me on the forehead. I place Rosey in her crib and shut off the light. Carefully Grim shuts the door behind us.

  We silently creep back into the living room and are surprised to find the Chief and Margaret, who are sitting in the living room.

  “Welcome back,” the chief offers, standing and opening his arms.

  I haven’t seen him since in the weeks since I’ve gotten back, and hadn’t realized how much I missed him until now. I run into his arms for a big, bear hug. He smells like spicy cologne and fresh air.

  Margaret places a hand on my back. “Congratulations. I heard you didn’t come home empty-handed.”

  “Thank you,” I say to her, releasing the chief, who offers Grim a congratulations of his own with a handshake and a slap on the back.

  “I have to ask,” Grim says to the chief, and I know what’s coming next. “Did you marry Rollo and Mona?”

  The chief nods. “I did. And it’s binding and legal. Water jug ritual, blanket binding, in front of the whole tribe. It’s done.”

  ‘“Wait,” I say as the memory of the ritual he performed on Grim and myself comes back to me. “Did you say water jug ritual and blanket binding?”

  The chief swallows hard as I approach him slowly.

  Margaret suppresses a laugh by covering her mouth with her hand.

  I point an accusing finger at his chest. “Tell me, chief, do you use those two rituals in anything other than a wedding ceremony?”

  He grimaces.

  Margaret’s laughter breaks. She falls onto the couch in damn near hysterics.

  “Is there?” I press.

  He looks to Grim who doesn’t appear nearly as surprised as I am.

  The Chief finally answers. “I...no, no there is not.”

  “So then—” I begin.

  The Chief’s smile is blinding and unapologetic. “You and Grim. You’re married.”

  Twenty-Seven

  One Month Later…

  Imogen

  The ceremony is the same as it had been last time, yet everything else is different. This time, I walk down an aisle to Grim linked arm-and-arm with both of my parents. The chief conducts the ceremony in English, and we are very aware of what is taking place, the promises we’re making to each other. Also, we are dressed for the occasion this time around. Grim looks breathtaking in a black button-down shirt, dark black pants, and his usual clean white sneakers. I opted for a long, strapless, black maxi dress. I’m carrying a bouquet of black roses, a matching crown of which is weaved into my hair. Marci takes them from me as Grim takes my hands in his. The biggest difference of all is the golden-eyed, curly headed toddler sucking on her thumb between our legs.

  “Da da da da daaaaaaa!” She pulls on Grim’s pants.

  “Shhhhh, Rosey,” Grim coos.

  Rosey looks up at him. Her pink, heart-shaped lips spread into a smile, revealing two different sized white squares lodged into her upper gums.

  Grim’s smile spreads. He looks from her to me. My heart and stomach flutter. I’m awash in a wave of emotion. The strength of it stronger than chains, unbreakable by any man. What makes those chains even stronger are the additional links that Rosey has added. Our connection grows stronger every day, and it�
�s not just between the two of us now, but three. I never thought I could love Grim more, but seeing him love our child and feeling that love between them makes me feel complete in a way I’ve never thought was possible.

  “You may kiss your bride,” Chief David concludes. Grim’s gaze darkens as he pulls me into his arms and plants a kiss to my lips that lasts for much longer than would be appropriate, but the crowd around us doesn’t seem to mind, as our friends, family, and all of Bedlam clap, whoop, and whistle.

  “I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Tristan Paine,” Chief David announces proudly. We separate when Rosey pushes our legs apart. Grim laughs and bends over to pick her up. His free hand holding tightly onto mine.

  Haze steps to the front of the crowd. “The King and Queen of Bedlam!” He presses his closed fist to his heart. “My life!” he roars loudly. The rest of the crowd joins them, including Grim and myself, and even Rosey, who balls her fist and places it against her dad’s chest, babbling along “My death. My honor. My loyalty. For Bedlam. For Brotherhood. For Always.”

  We walk through the cheering crowd, who throws seeds into the air as we pass. Grim covers Rosey’s head with his hand to protect her. Once we are clear, Marci walks over to us. “I’m so proud of both of you.” She says with tears in her eyes. “Belly would be, too.” She waves away her tears and leans down to our little girl, taking her hand. “Rosey, you want to come play with Grandma Marci?”

  Rosey giggles, leaping from Grim’s arms and into Marci’s. She plants a kiss on our little girl’s head and adjusts her matching crown of roses before carrying her off.

  Callum approaches us. He kisses both of my cheeks and shakes Grim’s hand. Grim tries to pull his hand back but my father doesn’t release him. “Grim, it goes without saying that if you do anything to break my little girls heart that I’m going to break every fucking bone in your body.”