Lorie O: Strong, Sleek and Sinful

Now Kylie kept it on autopilot, determined to make up for her sister dying so unnecessarily. It was more than a full-time job. It was Kylie’s life’s work.

Today she didn’t allow social life, or family, to get in her way. Her family was destroyed with the death of her sister. But if Kylie worked her ass off, other families wouldn’t be destroyed like hers was.

She twisted the sheet around her body, waking up from the painful dreams and staring at the ceiling. Her mom had called before Kylie had left Dallas. She still had the voice-mail message on her phone and needed to return the call soon. Suddenly Mom wanted to be friends, as if so many painful years hadn’t passed between them. She told Kylie living like this wasn’t healthy, pointing out she had never dealt with the sorrow of losing her sister. Kylie could handle her mom believing that about her. It was better than her mom thinking Kylie worked her ass off to prevent loving anyone. Never again would she know the pain and deal with the sorrow and healing process of losing someone she loved.

The noise in the bowling alley was comparable to a dull roar. Kylie managed to ignore it as she sat at a table, nursing a Coke and focusing on her laptop. She glanced up when a group of kids, four boys and three girls, entered the building and headed toward the arcade connected to the bowling alley. They were the same group of kids she’d followed around the mall yesterday.

One of the girls looked Kylie’s way and smirked. Maybe it was a smile. The girl’s long brown straight hair covered part of her face, which looked intentional. She wore a tube top, hip-hugging jeans that showed off her concave tummy, and an oversized plaid shirt that was unbuttoned and flowed behind her like a cape.

The girl next to her grabbed the long-haired girl’s arm, and she looked away from Kylie focusing across the lanes as her friend whispered in her ear. Kylie watched the two girls follow their friends through the opened doors into the arcade.

Another group entered from the doors behind Kylie. A bunch of guys, feeling a good buzz, it appeared from their loud and obnoxious behavior, traipsed past her toward the counter.

“This isn’t the library, shorty,” one of them sneered at her.

“I got something you can study,” his buddy offered, stopping in front of her and letting his gaze travel down her and then back to her face with an open invitation.

Kylie smelled alcohol on them and knew from experience that any comment would be enough to egg them on. She glanced toward the arcade room, no longer seeing the teenagers.

“Don’t tell me you like little boys,” the first one sneered, following her focus toward the other room.

“I don’t,” she said, standing. “Which is why I’m not talking to you.”

She couldn’t help herself. Although barely five feet, five inches, and 135 pounds of lean muscle and little body fat, Kylie lived with being thought younger than she looked. Her physical appearance aided in her line of work, though. She was the perfect bait for any online predator. Unfortunately, there were too many lowlifes who weren’t criminals but would pick up any woman, including her. Kylie didn’t mind using her physical appearance to help lure scum of the earth out from under their rocks. Occasionally she yearned for a real man, someone who was intelligent, gorgeous, and could carry on a conversation while looking at her face instead of her breasts. In her line of work though, those weren’t the type of men she spent time with.

Closing her laptop and getting up from the table, Kylie ignored the laughter of the men and the rude comment the guy she’d just insulted threw at her. It was getting into late Friday afternoon, and she only had an hour or so of the teenagers being here before they would head out for the next hangout spot.

She shoved her laptop into her leather case and zipped it up while working her way around the growing group of people lingering behind the lanes. The noise level dropped drastically when she entered the arcade. So did the lighting. The group of teenagers sat on a long cafeteria-length table in the corner of the room. Legs draped over bodies and they all managed to touch one another somehow as they twisted and crawled over each other, laughing and sharing cans of Coke.

Kylie walked up to a game that looked similar to the one Paul was playing on his computer the other day. Dropping her laptop case in front of her, she dug into her pocket for coins. It was important to become part of the environment in order to learn more about the prey of the predator she stalked. No matter how many times she tried playing these games, she sucked at them. But she stood close enough to hear the kids talking and hoped if they mentioned chatting online she’d learn if any of them were talking to a Peter, or anyone whom they possibly hadn’t met in person yet. Fortunately, she was an expert at understanding teenage lingo, which was a language in and of itself.

“Are you a spy?” The girl with the long brown hair leaned against the side of the arcade game, sizing Kylie up.

Kylie stared into her gray-green eyes. Black eyeliner accentuated her clear, attentive eyes, and dark lipstick gave her full lips a pouty look. The teenager would be pretty without all the paint on her face.

“No. Are you?” Kylie answered without hesitating.

The teenager snorted. “You were at the mall yesterday. Then in the parking lot when the cops showed up at Olivia’s car. And here you are now. Mighty coincidental, don’t you think?” There was a challenge in her tone.

Kylie wouldn’t insult the girl’s intelligence. In fact, Kylie commended her for being alert to her surroundings. “I’m not a spy. My name is Kylie.” She held her hand out to shake the teenager’s hand.

The girl quit leaning against the game and shifted her gaze to Kylie’s hand but didn’t take it. “How come you’re suddenly everywhere?” the girl demanded. Her posse remained on the table in the corner but no longer crawled all over one another. Instead they were still, watching curiously as their spokesperson gathered the info she would no doubtedly return to inquiring minds.

Kylie had endured interrogation from a lot worse than this assertive teenager. “I’m working on my thesis at the University of Kansas,” she offered, ready with her cover she’d prepared for when she became interactive with this community.

“Then why are you here? That university is in Lawrence.”

Kylie shrugged. “There’s more action here,” she said. “I’m studying the interaction and subculture known to the world as that of the American teenager.”

The girl stared at Kylie a moment longer before her eyes widened. Understanding apparently kicked in and her surprise made the gray flecks in her green eyes grow. It was a very pretty eye color.

“That is fucking cool as hell,” she said quietly. “So you’re like trailing us around and watching how we act and shit?”

“Something like that.”

“Dude, that is so cool.” The girl turned around and left Kylie, her long brown hair flowing down her narrow back as she hurried back to her group of friends.

Kylie flipped coins in her hand and searched the arcade game for the slot where the money went. The teenagers were talking in the corner, watching her, and once again crawling over one another. Kylie strained to listen while dropping quarters into the machine, and then proceeded to lose miserably in several games of war against battleships in some remote galaxy. Fortunately, the volume on the game was so low she couldn’t hear anything it said. If she cared about winning, that would probably annoy her. She pushed the buttons, barely paying attention to what happened on the screen, and focused on the teenagers’ continuous chatter. The kids never discussed the Internet or meeting anyone they’d never met before. Instead they talked about her and what they would do when they went to college, or if they were going to college.