Page 4 of Daddy's Little Convict
She didn’t like him. But then, she didn’t have to. She just had to do whatever he said.
Back outside she went, into the full heat of the desert evening. The breeze that tousled her dark auburn hair carried the coolness of night with it. She actually shivered when Travis stepped out behind her, following her down the single step onto the gravel and hard clay parking lot.
“I am not your mother or your father,” he began. “I am the man who will send your ass back to prison for another three years if you misbehave.” Taking the lead, he walked her down the line of hotel rooms until they came to the second from the end. The black sticker letters on the door read,21. “Home sweet home away from home.”
He didn’t unlock the door. He just pushed it open, holding this one for her too while he gestured her in ahead of him.
“There are no locks. You may not block me from coming in. You will submit to all impromptu inspections that might be required to make sure you’re following all the rules. My judgment in all matters is absolute and final.”
That pretty much went without saying. She slipped past him into the incredibly small motel room, staring from the twin bed, to the chest of drawers along one wall, and the tiny table and single chair placed in front of the only window. That was it forfurniture. No TV, no refrigerator or coffee maker. The closet had no door. Neither did the bathroom. The whole place smelled like dust and mold. It needed to be aired out.
“The Utah taxpayers are not responsible for your upkeep anymore. That means you will get a job and you will pay rent on the lap of luxury you have just been given.” He paused, arms spread to encompass the whole of the room, as if expecting a response although he hadn’t asked a question.
She answered him anyway. “Yes, sir.”
“The room is $250 every week, plus extras. If you’ve got a problem with that, I honestly don’t care. My house, my rules. Period.” He paused again.
Wandering as far as the little bathroom, she said another dutiful, “Yes, sir,” as she glanced inside.
The toilet, sink, tub, and both floor and wall tiles were all 1970s avocado green. The tub was small enough to win a Guinness world record. There was no shower curtain, but there was a slightly rusted mirror and medicine cabinet on the wall above the sink.
“Your first rent and expense payment is due—” he checked the date on his wristwatch. “This Friday. Now I know you just got here, but I’m not a man to make exceptions for anyone. If you can’t pay all of what you owe at the end of each week, then I’ll start a tab for you, but you will pay it all eventually. Your paychecks automatically come to me, and I’ll make sure of it. Got it?”
Her tense stomach sank. She tried to do the math, but two-fifty a week, plus four weeks in a month, divided by forty-hours if she was lucky to get a full-time job… She couldn’t do it in her head, but she was sure that was more money than she was going to make, considering she’d been in jail while the rest of her senior class graduated. Being in prison had given her a chance toget her GED, but how many times had her father told her that all GEDs were good for was flipping burgers and waiting tables?
Was Rosie’s Café and Cantina open? There might be a deli in Starvation’s one and only gas station, but the town was too small even for a McDonald’s. Would minimum wage be too little for her to meet Travis’s requirements? She didn’t have a resume or any way to make one. How was she going to do this?
“Got it?” Travis said again, a steely undertone creeping into what was no longer a sexy or honeyed voice.
She nodded, fisting her hands to stop their shaking. “Yes, sir.”
She didn’t have a choice. She would just have to figure it out.
“There’s my girl,” he praised, but the compliment—if it even was one—just made her that much more nervous. “Now, I assume you’ve got money in your wallet from whatever job you did while in the prison employment program, right?”
Was he going to take it from her?
Reluctantly, she nodded.
“Best buy food with it, because meals are not served on me. I might, upon occasion, be persuaded to scrounge up something if you don’t have anything… and you ask nicely, but there will be a cost and I don’t think you want to be indebted to me. Do you?”
She shook her head.
A corner of his mouth lifted as he eased a step closer. “Use your words, darlin’. I want to hear you say it.”
Her throat was almost too tight to swallow. “No, sir.”
“Do you have any questions?” he asked, his tone silken, soft and all-knowing.
More than nervous, he made her feel small. And when she was small like this, wanting to talk was nearly impossible. The practical part of her, however, was frantically trying to figure out how she was supposed to survive this. “Do… do you know who in town might be hiring?”
“I might. You got a problem helping work a farm?”
With only fourteen dollars in her pocket, she didn’t have the luxury to be picky. “No, sir. How much does it pay?”
“Do I look like a farmer to you?”
Her fists squeezed tighter. “No, sir.”
