Page 23 of Spice's Halloween

David Higgins, man whore of Camden and father of at least forty children that we were aware of, was long gone. Spice had handled that.

Mary’s car lights came on, and I watched as she reversed and drove away. She was an innocent sweetheart. I’d taken Mary under my wing the moment the girl applied for a job. Mary’s parents were fuckin’ assholes. Devout churchgoers, they judged everyone and everything. They’d never set foot in my shop.

Which meant Mary was safe. While I didn’t know what had happened between Mary and her family, something clearly had. Through the grapevine, I’d heard she had been engaged to be married to the preacher’s son. Next thing she wasn’t and had been excommunicated from their church. Two days later, Mary wandered into my shop and asked in a quiet voice if I needed help.

The truth was, I hadn’t, but a girl like Mary had no place being on the streets. And that was where she’d slept before I hired her. I informed Mary she’d work five days a week and could have the apartment above the store. Three months ago, a leak had flooded it, and Mary was now living in a heavily discounted house owned by the club. Which had meant us finding Mary a car that was cheap but reliable.

Spice teased Mary and made her blush, but I knew he liked her and her polite, calm ways. I guess for Mary, my shop had been something of a culture shock, but she’d been desperate. The kind of desperation that led to stupid mistakes—and sometimes death.

Happily, I looked out over my domain and smiled. I had two buildings knocked into one. The second half was crammed with decorations, all sectioned neatly off. You could rent anything from me from Halloween to Christmas to the 4thof July. In fact, I needed a larger area, and Spice was on the lookout for either a bigger building or buying the shop next to me. Upstairs was full of fancy-dress costumes and accessories. If you wished to be Wonder Woman or Harley Quinn, come and find me. The shop rented as well as sold them.

Besides the costumes, there was a section for expensive dress hire. Oh yeah, this biker bitch understood what a Versace was now, and I possessed several dresses women could rent out if they needed to. Teenage girls came and hired them for prom, so they were a nice little money maker.

I worked with a charity shop in town, too. If someone donated a designer dress, I’d get the first pick. Then, once I’d owned it a year, I’d donate it back and they could sell it on.

The mayor’s wife gifted a lot of clothes to the shop, so I certainly got my money’s worth out of them. The stupid bitch couldn’t be seen in the same outfit twice. Of course, I wondered if she was aware RBMC money paid for a few of them.

A little nastily, I smiled as I walked into the main section.

This was where I started years ago. Once Spice and I had got together, he’d not liked me working late nights in a bar. Spice had asked what I’d really wanted to do, and I told him my dream of opening a shop that sold my own candles, creams, and soaps. Spice had encouraged me to go back to college, and there I learnt the skills needed.

As a graduation present, Spice had bought the building and given me the start-up money. The shelves were filled with my handcrafted items. Everything smelled wonderful, and I was proud of my domain. Twenty years ago, I’d returned to college again and broached into herbal usage, and now created my own ointments and treatments.

Thanks to Spice taking a chance on me, I now employed six staff, excluding Mary. I’d become a success in my own right.

Sitting on a stool behind the counter, I gazed out the window and allowed my mind to drift.

David Higgins. That was a blast from the past. David was long turned to worm food, but his legacy still marked Camden. At least forty kids he’d sired with his man whore ways, walked the streets around here, and there was probably more. Hell, a quarter of the children in the quiet cul-de-sac we still lived in had been David’s.

The whoring bitches he cheated on me with hadn’t questioned David’s vanishing act. No one had. Not the cuckolded husbands, the kids he’d sired, or his family. David’sexistence had been a tragic blight on society. But it was David’s disappearance that proved that Spice loved me. A smile lit my face as I remembered how I’d found out.

Lindy - The Past.

“Stop arguing and sit your ass down. Spice, I don’t care you’re a man’s man. You were shot a day ago and discharged yourself from hospital. Which means I’m going to look after you,” I snapped at Spice.

“Lindy. I don’t need looking after,” Spice groused with a sulky glance.

“No? Think again. And Berserker gave me his phone number and that of the clubhouse. He said if I can’t reach him at home, he’ll be there. And Berserker ordered me to call if you got difficult,” I retorted smugly.

Spice looked betrayed. “Prez did not do that!”

“Want me to prove it?” I demanded.

“No. But quit fussing,” Spice growled out.

“Then stop being a baby and do as you’re told, or you’ll end up back in hospital and worse off,” I said with sass.

Spice narrowed his eyes.

“You’re enjoying this!” he accused.

“I have no idea what you mean,” I said innocently.

Spice sat upright on the sofa where he’d been slouching. “Bullshit, woman. You’re relishing being the boss. Well, tell you what, get here and give me a bed bath.”

I raised an eyebrow and laughed, and Spice looked like a pouty teenager.

“When I get you naked, it will be to fuck your brains out, Spice. Not to give you a bed bath you don’t need. You’re fully capable of a shower or a wash. Now the TV thingy is next to you, and acold soda, too. Keep your leg elevated on that stool. Can I start cooking dinner, or is there anything else?”

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