Page 45 of Oliver

Hunter:I like girls like you…spunky, pretty…sweet

Dixieletta:Sweet? Ha! You’re barking up the wrong tree old man

Hunter:Old? A real man knows how to fuck a woman, doll

Dixieletta:A real man wouldn’t need to say it

Hunter:Oh, you’re a good one. I can’t wait to punish you

Dixie doesn’t respond until two months later.

Dixieletta:I’m ready for my punishment, daddy-o

Hunter:Daddy? Hm. I like the sound of that, you’ll be screaming it before I’m done

When my computer dings with an incoming message, I pull it up and frown to find Dr. Love’s name across the top. Fucker. He is still online!

Dr. Love:Stop this shit, now playpen before it goes too far.

Sweetie:Fuck you. Running scared?

Dr. Love:You’re so fucking naïve. I’m not the one who’s scared but you should be. Do you know who you’re messaging?

Sweetie:Yeah, a dick who fucked my sister and probably murdered her.

Dr. Love:Ridiculous and I wasn’t talking about me. These men are dangerous. They’re not going to tell you shit. Get off this damn platform before it kills you too.

My heart stops and I suck in a breath before tapping wildly.

Sweetie:too, so you do believe it.;..

In my haste, I send the message through, ignoring the damn typos. He’ll get the gist anyway.

Dr. Love:I don’t know who killed your sister. If it wasn’t my father, then it’s probably one of these crazy assholes which is why you should quit!

Annoyed, I sign off and lay across the bed. Is Oliver worried about me? Why? He didn’t fucking care when he was fucking my sister behind my back. No way. There’s more to this but what? How is he involved?

The only way to know is to finish this damn quest. From the conversation between Hunter and Dixie I see that they agreed to meet up at a restaurant across town. From what I’ve heard it’s a shithole, but I’m not exactly going for the food. The likelihood that this guy is there is pretty slim, but I have to try.

After I take a screenshot of his profile picture, I slide into one of the hoochie dresses I used to wear and grab my wallet.

A shiver rolls down my spine when I sit in the driver's seat of Mom’s car, and I pause to stare at the tiny, framed picture of us from a trip to an amusement park hanging from the mirror.

I think I was twelve when she surprised us with the trip. Thinking back, I wonder if it’s the last time we truly did anything as a family.

Dixie’s wide smile brings tears to my eyes and with a sniffle, I back out of the drive. I’ll find the dick, Dixie, I pinky promise.

Insanity or not, there’s this bubble of rage that writhes below my skin and I can’t ignore it even as the rational part of my brain keeps telling me this is dangerous.

When I pull up to the dingy diner, I survey the lot. It’s dark out here with one damn streetlight beneath an old tree. It’s the closest spot to the door though so I squeeze between a fancy SUV and a broken-down beater that’s seen better days.

After fixing my hair in the mirror, I swipe on red lipstick and exit with a groan. My heart is in my throat and my stomach roils but I’ve come too far to let fear stop me.

The smoky air assaults my nostrils when I enter followed by the stringent sound of an electric guitar played by a man, sitting in the corner, who looks like he came straight from prison. Squinting, I confirm, he’s even wearing jeans and a blue button down. I think I saw something like that in a movie.

The tables spread before me create an obstacle course as I head for the counter. I thought this was a restaurant but now I’m wondering if someone isn’t going to frisk me and ask for my ID.

To my right, a man sits with a woman. She’s tapping her fingers on the table while he says something in her ear. Her lips pull into a sultry smile, and I look away when he slides his hand beneath her skirt.

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