The Preacher's Daughter

by Fiona Wilde

  Chapter Five

  "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just so happy you can't speak?" The voice on the other end of the line laughed silkily. "Wouldn't be the first time I left you speechless."

  "What do you want, Jasper?" Naomi kept her voice low as she sat down on the edge of her bed. Her stomach suddenly felt sour and she realized her hands were shaking. She wished she had a cigarette.

  "Want? Nothing but to know you're OK."

  It was a lie. Jasper always wanted something.

  "I'm fine." The less said the better.

  "Where are you?"

  She looked around the bedroom, the familiar wallpaper, the little heart-shaped stickers she'd put in a row across her dresser mirror when she was three. She'd told Jasper she could make it without him, that she had other opportunities waiting.

  Naomi wasn't about to tell him she was back home with her parents.

  "I'm in the northwest and that's all I'm going to tell you," she said. "I'm happy and I'm working and I'm over you."

  The laugh came again, low and delighted.

  "Angels are bad liars, even fallen ones. I had you followed. Those guys who work the ticket counters are easy to get information from. All my man had to do was pretend that you'd forgotten your laptop and ask where you'd gone."

  He paused. "So how are the folks? Probably took you back in with a heavy sigh. Let me guess, Angel. You're sitting in your old room right now talking to me, aren't you."

  She stood up, and angry flush reddening her face.

  "Now you listen to me, Jasper," she said. "My life now is none of your business, so if you think you can call here and fuck with me you're wrong...."

  "No, you're the one who's wrong, baby," Jasper said. "You are my business. I was the one who got you the job at Pinnacle, remember? I've spotted and groomed some hot girls in my time but you were the best, and the owner of the club was not happy when you jumped ship. He'd like you to come back and is willing to pay to have you back working that pole."

  "I'm sure he would," she said hotly. "He'd pay you."

  "Now, now, don't be hasty. He's more than willing to give you a raise."

  "A raise!" Naomi scoffed. "He'd just do like he always does, and take most of it back for costume fees, if you can call what he made us wear costumes. Randy will always pay slave wages, Jasper. So you can tell him to stuff his raise -and is offer - up his fat ass."

  "Angel.."

  "Don't call me that!" She raised her voice without meaning to and turned away from the door, lowering it again. "And don't call me again. I'm through with you. I'm through with Randy. I'm through with dancing."

  "Back to being a preacher's daughter, huh?" he asked. "You can try but you know what they say, sweetie. 'You can never go home again.' Unless maybe you didn't tell them just what a little whore you were on stage..."

  "Shut up.."

  "Every cock in the room saluted you the minute you walked in." He went on, ignoring her. "The real sin in this world is hiding something like you behind walls. Or clothes. Tell me, Angel? Do your folks even know what you did?"

  She didn't answer.

  "Thought not. And now you're pretending everything can be like it was. Let me guess. They even set you up with some white bread Bible salesman boyfriend with a flag pin on his lapel and a Republican Party card in his pocket."

  Naomi felt herself began to panic. While the description didn't entirely fit Eric, the idea that Jasper suspected that she had a decent Christian boyfriend made her uneasy.

  "Relax," she told herself. "He's just fishing. He's just trying to get a rise out of you." But no amount of self-reassurance could calm her down.

  "We're finished," she said. "What I'm doing now is none of your business, got it? So don't ever contact me again, you got that?"

  She hit the "END" button on the phone and raised her arm to throw it and stopped. Naomi put the phone on the bedside table, sat down on the mattress and lowered her face into her shaking hands as she willed herself not to cry.

  Now was not the time to get angry or emotional. She needed to think ahead so she could avoid what she feared might be heading her way.

  Jasper wasn't one to give up, because Jasper didn't know how. Jasper only knew how to do one thing, and that was win over people and get his way.

  Naomi could still remember the first time she met him. She'd been standing at the corner of Front and Vine carrying the groceries that represented the last of the money she had from panhandling. The sky above had been as grey as her mood, and she'd been too busy worrying about where she'd stay that night to look where she was going. It had been Jasper who had grabbed her and pulled her back from in front of the Chinese delivery biker, who swerved around her cursing in his native tongue.

  Naomi's bag of groceries fell on the ground. A can of Pringles rolled into the gutter, followed by the two apples. Only the can of sardines remained at her feet.

  Sitting down on the curb she began to cry.

  "Hey, hey," Jasper had sat down beside her. "Come on now. It's just a little bit of food. It's better than you falling in that gutter, which may have happened if that guy had hit you."

  She shook her head. "You don't understand. That was all the food I had."

  "Let me guess," he said. "You came out here expecting to make it big and now you're broke?"

  She nodded, sniffing pitifully.

  He stood and offered his hand. "Hey, don't feel bad. There's a million more just like you. Stand up."

  Naomi sighed and took his hand.

  "A million more," he repeated, looking at her. "But most aren't as pretty."

  She looked at him then. He was handsome, too, with dirty-blonde shoulder-length hair in a surfer-boy cut. His face was tanned, his eyes light blue. He wore a shell necklace, a Billabong t-shirt, long cargo shorts and flip-flops.

  Naomi had seen a lot of people on the street that made her feel uncomfortable, but Jasper wasn't one of them. His boy-next-door charm instantly put her at ease, which was - she later learned - part of his plan.

  "I'm Jasper," he said, putting out his hand.

  "Naomi," she replied, accepting his handshake.

  "Naomi," he repeated. "That's pretty. It's from the Bible, right?"

  She nodded. "Yeah, my parents are real religious."

  "Ouch," he said, beginning to walk as he beckoned her to join him. "Religious people freak me out."

  Naomi smiled. "Me, too. That's why I left."

  He took her to a Greek restaurant the next street over and bought her a chicken gyro so good it almost made her cry. Over a desert of baklava she told him about her stifling childhood, her father's inflexible nature, her mother's inability or unwillingness to intercede and how all of it had made her decide to leave.

  "I just wish I'd known what was waiting here," she'd concluded. "It's one thing for a fifteen year old to run away and end up like this, but I was in college."

  "Yeah, but it was crappy Bible college that didn't prepare you for the real world, let alone the streets of LA," he'd said.

  "So how is it that you're making it?" she asked. "You look to be about my age."

  "Well, first of all, I'm a local," he said in first of many, many lies he would go on to tell her. "I have a degree in theatre and this year lucked out landing a job."

  "You're an actor?" she asked, intrigued.

  "Nah," he replied. "Maybe one day. Now I just work lining up talent for a theatre and dance company."

  Her eyes widened. "Really?"

  "Yeah," he said, and looked at her thoughtfully, as if something were dawning on him.

  "What?" she asked, after several minutes of his prolonged scrutiny.

  "Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "You'd probably say no anyway."

  "Try me," she said. "You saved me from that Chinese bike guy. I kind of owe you."

  He laughed. "Well, I know you said you didn't take acting in high school or college, but I was kind of wondering if you'd ever consider stage work. I mean, you are so
darn pretty. So fresh-faced pretty. If I referred you it could be good for both of us financially."

  "You mean I could make money?" Naomi's eyes had widened in disbelief. She'd all but given up any notion of making it, and this handsome stranger now thought she had a shot at a job.

  "Good money," he said.

  Naomi remembered feeling a sudden uneasiness. Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. People just didn't give job offers to down-and-out strangers they met on the street.

  But Jasper seemed so nice. He wasn't some leering old man in a trench coat. He was a young person, a contemporary.

  "What do you say?" he asked. "Will you at least talk to my boss if I set it up?"

  "Sure, OK," she said.

  "Where are you staying?"

  Naomi had looked down. "The underpass," she said. "The shelter's been full the last two nights."

  "Well that won't do," he said and reached into his pocket and took out a card. "Here's the address for a motel over on Vine Street. It's not fancy, but it's clean and has a shower and free cable. I'll call the owner and tell him I'm sending you over."

  Naomi took the card, not knowing what to say.

  "You can pay me back after I get you work," he said standing.

  Naomi looked up at him. "Thank you so much," she said. "When do you want me to meet with your boss?"

  "Let me show him your picture and make sure you're what he has in mind. If you are then I'll come over in the morning and let you know what time you're meeting." He pulled out his camera phone. "Smile."

  Naomi had put her hands in front of her face. "No!" she said. "I look horrible!"

  He rolled his eyes. "I could roll you in mud and you'd still look beautiful," he said. "Smile."

  Naomi managed a smile and then blinked against the bright flash of the phone.

  After Jasper left she sat there nervously chewing her nails as she thought about what all this meant. She wanted to believe he was on the up and up. She had to believe it. But what if the guy he wanted her to meet wasn't in theatre. What if he was a pimp who drugged and raped her as soon as she stepped in his office.

  "Honey, you want anything else?" The waitress interrupted her thoughts.

  "No. No thanks." Naomi stood, clutching the business card and rising from her chair. It was getting late, and she kept her head down as she walked quickly to the hotel on Vine Street. Her doubt grew with each step. Something had to be wrong. When she got there the desk clerk would probably look at her like she was crazy. That's when she'd find out this had all been some kind of sick practical joke.

  But the Indian clerk just nodded when she told him who she was and handed her a key to Room 17. Just as Jasper had promised, it was clean with a working shower and cable TV. After her shower Naomi used the remaining shampoo sample to wash her clothes in the bathtub. She hung them up to dry on the shower curtain rod and then - clad in a faded Misfits t-shirt and her last clean pair of underwear she collapsed on the bed and flipped through the channels until she came to a marathon of Spongebob reruns.

  It was the perfect viewing choice for someone who didn't want to concentrate on a plot, and Naomi's mind was racing so fast that it was hard to even keep up with the antics of the animated sea sponge and his starfish sidekick. Would Jasper really call in the morning? Would his boss really want to see her based on grainy cell phone snap? If he did, what would he want her to do?

  She fell asleep with those questions swirling in her mind; it had been days since she'd slept on a real mattress and was in such a deep slumber that she nearly didn't hear the phone ring at 9 a.m. It was the desk clerk - a woman this time - reminding her that breakfast was included in her room price and the dining room was only open for early diners until ten.

  Naomi's stomach was growling in spite of her big dinner so she hastily dressed and went downstairs to enjoy a breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast. She was surprised to see Jasper come in just as she finished.

  "Good morning," he said. "Sleep well?"

  "Never better," she said.

  "Good," he replied, flopping down in the chair across from her. He was dressed in the same casual style and wore the same casual grin. "Because you've got a busy day ahead of you. My boss wants to meet you."

  "He does?"

  "Yes," Jasper said. "But we have one little problem."

  Her face fell. "What?"

  "Your clothes. He expects a certain level of professionalism. Do you have a really nice dress?"

  Naomi's face flushed red. "No. I had a skirt and a top in my bag but someone in the shelter stole it."

  "Hmm. Let me think." Jasper said. "Look, I don't have much dough on me but I've got enough to take you to the dress shop up the street and get you something for the interview. You can just pay me back later when you pay for the room."

  "No," she said. "I can't...."

  "Hey," he said. "Don't be stupid. This is a good chance for both of us. One of the first things you need to learn is how to accept help when you need it."

  She considered this. "I'm just afraid I won't be able to repay you if I don't get the job."

  "You can't think like this," he said. "In my mind you're a sure bet and I don't mind investing in something I believe in." He smiled. "And I believe in you, Naomi."

  She smiled. It was nice to hear. No one had told her that before. She'd been told that Jesus believed in her. But she'd never had any human tell her they did.

  An hour later she was leaving the corner shop dressed in a pretty yellow sundress with matching pumps. She felt pretty and stylish as she and Jasper took a taxi to a strip mall flanked by two towering palms.

  They approached a doorway printed with the words Exelon Enterprises. Jasper held it open as she walked through. The carpet in the foyer was blue, the room ringed by uncomfortable looking straight-backed chairs. The walls were lined with autographed pictures of stars. Some Naomi recognized, some she didn't. Behind a desk by a door leading to the back an over-made brunette looked up from where she sat reading a tabloid.

  "Well, hello there, handsome!"

  "Hi, Star," he answered. "Is Mr. Edge in?"

  "He sure is," she said chirpily. "And he's expecting you." She picked up the phone and spoke into it "Mr. Edge, Jasper's here with your 11 o'clock."

  She ushered them back down a hallway lined with more photos of stars. Naomi felt herself growing more nervous by the moment. This man must be important.

  At the end of the hall was a door that opened to what must have once been a conference room. Now it as empty save for a few chairs. In one sat a short, squat man with gray hair. He stared intently at Naomi as she entered, his dark eyes sweeping over her like lasers.

  "Randy, good to see you." Jasper extended his hand and the gray haired man took it in a strong shake.

  "Nice to see you, too." He had an accent. Naomi wasn't sure, but it sounded Russian or Ukrainian, like the accent of the exchange students who visited her father's church in the summer before she entered her sophomore year in high school.

  He turned then to shake Naomi's hand as Jasper introduced them. "You're very pretty," he said. "Very delicate features. You act?"

  She shook her head. "No," she said.

  "No matter." He settled into his chair. "Most actresses who tell me they can really can't. Would you do me a favor. Would you walk to the door and back? I'd like to, uh, see how poised you are."

  It didn't seem like an unreasonable request to Naomi, who walked to the door and back.

  "You have a good look to you," Randy Edge said. "Very genuine, very fresh. I think you would be wonderful for a number of parts."

  "Parts?" she asked, looking at Jasper with a smile. Behind Randy, he gave a thumbs up and smiled back.

  "Nothing big to start - commercials, extra work. But with time I could see a face like yours becoming a stand-out. So many girls in this town are flashy, over-made. They want to be the next sexy thing. But you are just sweet and sweet his hard to find."

  He smiled a fatherly smile.

&nb
sp; "Thank you," she said.

  "So if you bring your photo portfolio to me later this week we'll get you set up."

  "Photo portfolio?" Naomi had felt her bubble of happiness burst. "I don't have a photo portfolio."

  Randy Edge turned to Jasper. "You brought her here without portfolio?" He shook his head.

  "She's getting one done this afternoon!" Jasper said.

  "I am?" Naomi looked at Jasper like he was crazy.

  "Yes, silly. Don't you remember?" He shot her a look that suggested she needed to go along with him.

  "Oh, right." She nodded.

  "Good," Randy Edge said. "I'd like to see it. I'm busy the rest of this week but Monday would be a good time to meet again."

  "We'll be here. Same time?" Jasper asked.

  "Just set it up with my girl at the desk," he said.

  Jasper had hastened her out. "Are you crazy?" she asked after they were back outside. "I can't afford a photographer."

  "It's OK. I'll pay for it. He likes you."

  She gasped. "No. You can't," she protested. "What if I don't get the job? I won't be able to.."

  He stopped and grabbed her by the arms then and his mouth was on hers before she could say another word.

  "You're so pretty," he said. "And so sweet. Mr. Edge said so himself. And there's something about you. Something that makes me think that together..."

  She looked at him, at his handsome, deceptively innocent face and fell head over heels in that moment. She wasn't alone. She'd found someone who believed, someone who believed enough to take care of her.

  Only later would she find out it had all been a sham. When she went back to Mr. Edge, he announced she wasn't what he wanted after all. Naomi fell apart; the man she loved had spent his last dime on her portfolio and hotel bills and clothing for her. She had to get work and he suggested she start dancing.

  She'd been unbelievably nervous. He'd given her a pill to help. And the pill became nightly pills. The tattoos came later as she sought to deal with the pain and guilt of her new life.

  The money was good, until it began to disappear in "fees." Jasper moved on to another girl, not that she cared any more. Naomi went from loving to hating him when she learned that the nightclub where she danced, Pinnacle, was owned by Excelon Enterprises.