Good Girl(55)

"Payton's really something," Canon says.

"How do you know Payton?"

"Double Diamonds. She was there on Saturday. She's a bit of a handful."

"Did something happen that night?"

"What didn't happen?" Canon exhales with a low whistle. "But that's Vince's problem, thank fuck."

"Right." I wonder if I want him to elaborate on that. I decide I don't. "Do you have my report?"

"I emailed it to you while you were in your meeting."

"What do you know about my meeting?"

"Lawson texted me. He said it was a shit show."

"It was fine."

"He said it's a miracle you've ever gotten laid without paying for it and that Lydia is in love with you and you're fucking it up."

"First of all, I am paying for it. Second of all, Lydia is not in love with me."

"Sure."

On the surveillance monitor Payton has pulled something from her purse and laid it on the table, pushing it towards Lydia.

"Zoom in on that," I tell Canon but he's changed the camera angle to a direct overhead shot before I've finished speaking.

"Blow job," Canon reads the words off the item. It looks like a seed packet. A cucumber seed packet glued to a piece of felt with ‘blow job’ written across the top in glitter.

Next Payton slaps down a round circle of denim with 'butt stuff' stamped onto it in black ink and then finally a piece of canvas cut into the shape of a shield with ‘SEX’ spelled out across the surface. In blue sequins.

"Are these"—Canon sounds a bit incredulously impressed, which is no small feat—"dirty Girl Trooper badges?"

"I think so."

I watch Lydia blush on monitor two and slap her hand over the sex badge and pull it towards her on monitor one. She shakes her head and shoves the ‘blow job’ and ‘butt stuff’ badges back towards Payton.

Canon side-eyes the hell out of me.

In the cafeteria Lydia's hand pauses over the blow job badge and she slides it back and forth a little with the tip of her finger. I can see her talking on monitor two and making gestures with her free hand. I imagine she's asking if she can keep the badge or if she has to wait until Wednesday. I've got no idea what she's actually saying of course, but I can picture this pretty clearly. Payton shakes her head and puts two of the three badges back in her bag.

"Shit. Do you have some kind of delayed gratification fetish? Were you that kid who waited until dinner to open your presents from Santa? Did you save your Halloween until Easter?"

"Why does everyone think I have a fetish? I'm just a normal asshole. And Lydia is not a piece of candy."

On the monitor Payton asks Lydia something. Lydia blushes again and runs the sex badge between her fingertips. Then she smiles and makes a swooning gesture.

I swipe open my phone and find the email from Canon. I scan over it—quickly—because there's almost nothing here.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I ask him.

"I don't know. You're the one who asked for it.”

"I thought you'd find me something useful."

"Like what? A secret affiliation to the Russians?"

"I don't know. Credit-card debt or something."

"None. Pays about three hundred a month in student loans. Assuming she's splitting the rent with her roommate, she's paying about eight hundred a month for rent. Add in her car payment, cell phone and utilities and she's got about fifteen hundred a month in disposable income left over each month."

"So she's not desperate."

"Nope."

"Then why? Why the auction?"

"I can't imagine why," Canon deadpans while I stare at the email again.

"She was a Girl Trooper through the twelfth grade?" I look at Canon to see if this is something he slipped in to fuck with me. "Who the hell stays in Girl Troopers that long?"

"Virgins."

Right. So how in the hell did a good girl like her get involved with Vince?

"Are her parents in any financial trouble? Siblings?"

"Only child. Two dads. They own their home, have no debt and have healthy retirement accounts." Canon is ignoring me as he talks, adjusting cameras on the casino floor on one of the smaller monitors. Lydia and Payton are still displayed on the main one. Payton is talking and Lydia is laughing. I wonder what's amusing her. I wonder how in the hell she slipped into my life and made me feel things for her. Things I don't want and don't have time for, a fact I'm reminded of when my phone rings with yet another call I need to take. I'll have to deal with my goddamned thoughts later. I thank Canon as I stand, phone already pressed to my ear as I exit.





Twenty-Seven





RHYS



I'm so busy I can't think straight. So I don't. I just keep moving through the week. On Monday I don't make it home until after nine. I'd never thought of it as anything but a place to crash in before Lydia took up residence, but she's changed things.

On Wednesday I spilled coffee on the sleeve of my shirt and when I ran up to the apartment to change, it smelled like someone was cooking. Except it was the middle of the day and my kitchen is never used. Besides, I'd just seen Lydia sitting in one of the conference rooms on four, so I knew it wasn't her. Except it was. She'd procured a Crock-Pot from God knows where—no, no, I know exactly where. Based on the pattern of brown flowers the Crock-Pot is older than she is and I know damn well she picked it up at the Goodwill. Half a million dollars doesn't seem to have had any influence on her shopping habits.