Daisy beamed. “Oh yeah, she does!” And then, “Do you have a mommy?”
And where ordinarily Lance would have expected himself to feel sad, to briefly succumb to that icy bath of loneliness that often accompanied thoughts of his mother, instead he found himself suddenly remembering several of the happiest times they’d spent together. Birthdays and holidays and days at the library and evenings in their kitchen sharing a pie.
“I did,” Lance said. “She died.”
Daisy grew somber for a moment, but then her eyes grew wide and she said, “But wait, you can still see her! If you can see me, that must mean you can see her too, right?”
And here came the sadness. Lance smiled and shook his head. “No, Daisy. I can’t see her. I don’t get to pick who I see and who I don’t.”
“Oh,” Daisy said. “Well, that sucks.”
Lance laughed, loud and deep. “Yes, Daisy, that does suck. We can agree on that. Now, can you think of any other reason why maybe you stayed here after you passed away? Other than the fact you wanted to stay with your mommy?”
“Can you read to me now?” Daisy said, looking away.
It was the first time she’d taken her eyes off him, Lance realized.
“Daisy,” Lance said, trying not to sound too much like a parent reprimanding their child. “Do you know another reason why you’re still here?”
Daisy shook her head, still not making eye contact with him. “We don’t have to read that book again if you don’t want,” she said. “We can do one of the other ones. I don’t care.”
Lance walked around to Daisy’s side of the bed and sat on the edge, sitting silently for a long time until eventually the girl turned her head to look and see what he was doing, and that’s when Lance saw something that looked like embarrassment in her eyes, her cheeks.
“Daisy?”
“I don’t know where to go!” the little girl cried. “I can’t leave! I know I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to go to the other place, but I’m stuck! I can’t find my way! Can you help me? Can you help unstuck me? I don’t know where to go!”
The words rushed from her mouth, and without thinking, Lance reached out, ready to envelop the child in his arms and hug her tight and stroke her hair and whisper to her that everything was going to be alright.
But, of course, his hands and arms passed right through Daisy’s image, grabbing nothing but the pillows and comforter. She looked at him, such sadness in her eyes, and in that moment Lance would have done anything to make her happy again. Daisy thought she was stuck, that she didn’t know the way, but in reality, Lance figured the Universe was simply keeping her here for him. And for that, Lance felt incredibly guilty.
“Hey,” he said, “how about I read to you now?”
Daisy’s face was awash with relief, and she smiled big and settled herself back into her listening position. Lance walked around the bed and lay down next to her, reaching for the novel on the nightstand and finding his place. He started to read.
Thirty minutes later, after Daisy’s spirit had vanished from the bed and Lance found himself enthralled in the mystery on the pages, there was the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and then the stairs. Muffled conversation from the floor below. A moment later, there was a loud knock on Lance’s bedroom door.
“Come in,” Lance said.
Loraine Linklatter cracked the door open and stuck her head in. “There’s a girl downstairs looking for you.”
22
Lance’s head did a quick dizzy dance of confusion, repeating Loraine Linklatter’s words in his mind—There’s a girl downstairs looking for you—and for the tiniest of moments, just a fleeting surge of excitement and happiness, he allowed himself to imagine Leah standing downstairs in the foyer, waiting for him to come down the stairs toward her like an inverse prom night pickup.
But that was ridiculous. He knew it was impossible. He’d spoken to Leah just a couple hours ago, and there was no way she’d have been able to somehow do detective work and track him down and then get all the way from Westhaven to Sugar Beach in that time. No matter how badly part of Lance wished she had.
“A girl?” Lance asked, sitting up on the bed. He cast a quick glance to his right, just to be sure, wondering if Daisy would return at the sight of her mother. But no, Daisy had apparently only come for her bedtime story.
Loraine Linklatter pushed the door open further, and Lance saw she was wearing the same thin robe she’d been wearing last night when he’d arrived. “Yes. And in the future, I’d appreciate it if you could let me know when you’ll be having guests.”
“I…” Lance started, then cut himself off. He was about to say that he hadn’t been expecting anybody, but he thought the notion of letting Loraine Linklatter know there was a stranger downstairs waiting in her house might not be the best idea—especially if they weren’t a paying customer. “I’m sorry,” was what he did say. “Slipped my mind.”
Loraine nodded, apparently accepting the apology, then said, “I’m going back to bed. You know your way around the kitchen, if she’d like anything to eat or drink. I only ask that you please try and clean up after yourselves.” Then she smiled, gave Lance a wink and thumbs-up, and said, “Good job, Lance. She’s a cutie.”
“Uh … yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
What else was he supposed to say?
Loraine left the door open but retreated into the hallway, the sound of her footfalls fading away toward her bedroom. Once Lance heard her bedroom door open and close, he stood, pulled on his sneakers, and then walked out into the hall.
He’d made it two steps toward the stairs when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, a quick one-two-three vibration. He pulled the phone out and glanced at the screen.
Leah.
He sighed, hating himself for ignoring the call and shoving the phone back in his pocket. Wished he could telepathically send her a note letting her know he was in the middle of something. Even a message that short would take too long to peck out on his old-school phone. His curiosity about who was waiting for him was too strong, too much the priority.
Lance was halfway down the stairs when he saw her. Blond hair, pretty face, same sweatpants and sweatshirt as earlier.
The girl who’d been selling sodas by the donut shop.
Diana. Eyes darting around the foyer like a scared animal.
“Hi,” Lance said, stepping down from the last stair.
And at the sight of him, Diana’s face softened, her shoulders relaxed, and she looked at him with pleading eyes. “You help me?”
What else could he say?
“Yes.”
And Diana closed the distance between them in a rush of movement and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight and burying her face into his chest as she cried.
Lance, surprised by the sudden reaction, gently returned the hug, reaching up and stroking the girl’s head and whispering that everything was going to be alright.
Just like he’d wanted to do for Daisy.
He hoped he wasn’t making promises he couldn’t keep.
* * *
Lance got Diana settled in the kitchen, seating her in the breakfast nook while he made her some tea. After delivering the beverage, he asked, “Are you hungry?”
Diana nodded, taking the tea in her hands and clutching the mug as if it were a life preserver. Lance opened the fridge, saw his sub he’d never eaten and pulled it out, unwrapping it and setting it on the table. “Hope you like turkey,” he said.
Diana picked up one half of the sandwich and began to eat, and when she picked up the mug of tea again, Lance noticed that her hands were shaking, the liquid splashing over the edge of the cup. He stood and got some paper towels. Brought them back to the table and slid into the opposite side of the breakfast nook.
She’s afraid, he thought. But of what?
The two of them sat there, quietly. Lance watched her finish off half the sub and then the tea, never taking his eyes off her. She would
look up at him occasionally but then quickly cast her eyes back down to her food. She seemed timid, unsure of what she was really doing.
When she took it upon herself to rewrap the last half of the sub and push it back toward Lance, he asked, “Feel better?”
Diana said nothing.
Lance nodded. “I know I always feel better after eating. Can I get you anything else?”
When Diana didn’t answer—not really, anyway, just a small shake of the head—Lance figured he’d have to be direct if he was going to get anywhere with this girl. She’d made it this far—finding him where he’d told her he’d be—but now it was as if she’d hit a wall and didn’t know how to keep moving forward with whatever plan she might have convinced herself she had.
Lance thought about the black Ford Excursion, dropping off and picking up the girls, remembered the security cameras on the house he’d gone to spy on with Todd earlier. Considered the girl’s fear. He asked, “Did you run away? Sneak out of the house?”
Diana looked up to him and for the first time held his gaze, pretty blue eyes locking onto his. Her hair fell softly around her features, spilling past her shoulders.
“Yes,” she said. A short and clipped syllable, her accent strong.
Lance thought about the girl’s shaking hands as she’d sipped the tea.
“And are you afraid they’re going to find you and take you back?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No thinking. Just fact. “They will be mad. Make me pay more.”
“Pay more?” Lance asked, leaning back and trying not to make the conversation seem like an interrogation.
“Yes.”
“Pay more … money?”
Diana opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. Cocked her head to the side, thinking. “Yes. John’s money. I work and John pay. If I go back, I must work more and—”
And the tears came then, Diana’s face all at once flushing with pain and sadness and fear and she let out a soft gasp as she let go. She cried into her hands, shaking her head, her shoulders heaving. Lance sat, patient and quiet, waiting for the girl to recompose herself, feeling the sadness in his chest grow with each pain-filled wail she spilled into her cupped hands. Wondered just what sort of hell she’d been through.
After a couple minutes, Diana managed to calm herself and looked up, first wiping at her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt and then reaching for a paper towel. Lance handed her one and she said, “Thank you,” Taking it and wiping her nose and cheeks. When she’d finished cleaning herself up, she looked at Lance and said. “Please, take me away. I no want to go back to house. I no want to go home. They might make me. Go home—worse than working more.”
Lance, more confused at the girl’s words than ever, nodded his head. “Okay. Don’t worry. I’m not taking you back. I’ll help you, I promise.”
He said this and wondered what he was going to do, where he was going to take this girl. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but judging by the fear in Diana’s eyes, he had no doubt that once whoever owned the house with the security cameras realized she was missing, they’d come looking for her. And something told Lance they weren’t going to ask him very nicely to hand her over if they were to find the two of them together.
I need more information, he thought. She’s got to tell me more.
“Diana,” he started. “Who’s John? What work are you doing for him?”
Diana looked at Lance, and something like confusion washed over her face, as if his question didn’t quite make sense. Then she said, “A lot of names.”
Now it was Lance’s turn to be confused. “A lot of names? John has lots of names? Like, people call him names other than John?”
Diana made a face again, and as she was about to speak, Lance’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket again. He pulled it free and saw Leah’s name on the screen. She was calling back, pressing him to answer.
She must have found what I asked for, Lance thought. Then, needing a small break from the confusion that was growing with his conversation with Diana, Lance said, “I have to take this.” Then added, “It’s a friend who can help.”
He flipped the phone open and answered the call.
HER
(III)
It took Leah almost an hour after she’d ended the call with Lance before she finally clicked open a new web browser tab on her laptop (a private browsing window—incognito, the browser called it—something she’d always heard people joke about as the way men looked at porn without their girlfriends or wives finding them out if they happened to snoop on their men’s web history) and typed in the address that Lance had given her. The delay was partly because she’d started watching Stranger Things, desperately wanting to see how things ended up for the kids in Hawkins, but also because she knew that there was the chance that once she did what Lance had asked her, even though on the surface it seemed very simple and with very few serious long-term repercussions, she would be crossing a line that she might not ever be able to go back from.
She’d be officially involved.
Lance had warned her so strongly about this as their initial time together had come to an end, how being associated with him could be potentially dangerous, but as Leah looked around her tiny studio apartment and thought about her shifts at Annabelle’s Apron and again shook her head in disbelief at how little of the world—hell, the country—she’d seen, how little she’d actually lived, she found the decision suddenly very easy.
Her mother and brother were dead, and her relationship with her father, while it was better now than it had been in years—thanks to Lance—was no longer enough to make her feel obligated into living the life she’d been dealt.
I’ve got nothing to lose, she thought and pressed the Enter key on the keyboard.
The page loaded. A solid black screen with a white box labeled ACCESS CODE. She entered the code Lance had given her, her fingers hovering over the trackpad for just a split second—one final moment of deliberation—and then she clicked the arrow to enter the site.
* * *
She listened to the ringing in her ear as she called him. Cursed out loud when he didn’t answer and threw the phone onto her bed, hanging up without leaving a message. This wasn’t the sort of thing you tried to explain over a voicemail.
He’s busy, she thought. In the middle of something—and honestly, when is he not in the middle of something?
She tried to relax, convince herself that Lance had not fallen prey to some harm in the time since they’d last spoken. On her laptop—which now felt tainted and in need of a full scan from her antivirus software—she switched back to her Netflix window and tried resuming Stranger Things.
But she couldn’t focus. Had too many questions. She’d made it through just shy of half an episode—knowing she’d have to go back and watch it again because she couldn’t recall a single thing that’d happened—before she picked up her phone and called Lance again, tapping the phone against her ear as it rang.
“Leah?” he answered.
“It’s porn!” She didn’t mean to yell and quickly covered her mouth with her free hand, a silly, instinctive gesture. Looked around the room as if there might have been somebody there to hear her. When she spoke again, she did it quietly. “Okay, maybe not, you know, a typical porn site. It’s more of a webcam girl site,” she said, “but … there’s more to it than just, well, you know, normal videos. It’s very … boutique.”
There was silence for a beat. Then, “Boutique?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I’m … I’m going to need you to elaborate.”
She paused, thinking about everything she’d seen. “It’s more intimate, like a personal, customizable experience.”
“Customizable? Like when you order a Whopper from Burger King?”
“Are you always thinking about food?”
“Sorry. Go on.”
She sighed and reeled in her thoughts. Organized them and then laid them out the best she could. “This site
is niche,” she said. “It’s not just a bunch of videos of girls in their bedrooms taking off their clothes and getting off with sex toys while a thousand dudes jerk it in real time from the other end of the Internet.”
“That’s from Shakespeare, right? Which play?”
Leah ignored the joke and pressed on. “Now, of course, they do have that sort of thing, but that’s the cheap stuff, some of it even free, like … like an appetizer to get you excited about the main course.”
“We’re back to food again?”
“Now, once you get past the typical stuff, there’s a whole other section of the site where customers can buy, and I quote, Intimate companionship and experiences. It’s like … it’s like the girlfriend experience you’d get from an escort service, only … this is just online.”
“Girlfriend experience?” Lance asked. “What’s that?”
“Seriously?”
“Pretend I know nothing about any of this. Because … I don’t, really.”
“Is it weird I’m sort of impressed by that?”
Lance said, “Maybe. Just remember I didn’t get out much growing up. I had … other priorities.”
Leah shook her head, so curious to learn more about Lance’s childhood. She hoped she’d get the chance to have him tell her all about it one day. “The girlfriend experience is where a guy, or girl, I guess, hires a woman to act as his girlfriend, to pretend to be romantically involved. Not just to have sex. Now, don’t kid yourself, the sex follows most of the time, I’m sure. But in this situation, the girl you pay for might, say, go out to dinner and a movie with you first. Talk about your friends and family and hobbies and, well … act like they actually give a damn about anything except getting freaky. It’s all very sad, actually, if you ask me. People that are so desperate for love, they are willing to pay for it.”
“So this site is offering a digital-only girlfriend experience. Is that what you’re saying?”
The Lance Brody Series: Books 3 and 4 Page 13