Brian Freeman - Stripped

She had never wanted to have the SRS surgery, to take the final step. She was afraid that things would go wrong, that the parts wouldn’t work, that she would be left with no sexual sensation whatever. She didn’t need it to define her as a woman. She had been willing to have it for Bobby, though, to make herself a little more normal for him-except he said no, that he didn’t want it, not unless she wanted it for herself. She loved him for that.

It sounded so appealing, to run away with him someday, to escape all the cruelty. San Francisco maybe, where Tierney was coming from. No one would give them a second look there. Not in the City by the Gay.

Amanda tossed the cigarette butt out of the car. She laughed at herself and shook her head. She was as guilty of fantasy as the people on the plane. The truth was, she would never leave.

The radio crackled to life. United 1580 was cleared to land.

Amanda fired up the engine. Tierney Dargon was coming home.

She spotted Tierney in the baggage claim area, standing apart from the crowd, a cell phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear. She was stick-thin and pretty, with a loose pink top that let her breasts sway and rose-colored tight pants, but other than her Vegas body, she wasn’t making any effort to look glamorous. Her brown hair hung limply to her shoulders in a mess of curls. She hadn’t put on makeup or jewelry, except for a gold bracelet that she twisted nervously around her wrist with her other hand. The whites of her eyes were lined with red.

Amanda began to approach her but found her way blocked by a giant Samoan in a Hawaiian shirt, obviously a bodyguard. She discreetly flashed her badge. The man asked if she could wait, then lumbered over to Tierney and whispered in her ear. The girl studied Amanda, murmured something to the Samoan, and went back to her phone call.

“Mrs. Dargon wonders if she could talk to you in her limo,” the bodyguard told Amanda. “It’s waiting outside. There’s a picture of Mr. Dargon on the door.”

Amanda shrugged. “Okay.”

She found the limo without any problem. Samoa had obviously radioed to the driver, who was waiting for her with the door open. He was in his sixties, and he tipped his black hat to Amanda as she got in.

’There’s champagne if you’d like,” he told her. “We have muffins, too, but don’t take the blueberry oatmeal muffin. That’s Mrs. Dargon’s favorite.”

Amanda smiled. “She eats carbs?”

The driver laughed but didn’t reply. He closed the door with Amanda inside.

She had never been in a stretch before. Her ass slid all over the leather seat as she tried to get comfortable. A television was built into a corner unit toward the front of the car, with a stereo and DVD player on shelves underneath. A rap video was playing, with the sound muted. The opposite corner included a refrigerator and a circular glass serving tray with sweets, fruits, an open bottle of champagne, and a carafe of juice.

There was a portrait of Moose Dargon on black velvet stitched into the middle seat on Amanda’s left. He looked twenty years younger, with wild wavy black hair, caterpillar eyebrows, and a bulbous red-veined nose. Amanda clucked her tongue in disbelief. Elvis had not left the limo.

She chose to sit on Moose’s face, because she could get some traction on the velvet. There was a series of wooden drawers built into the lower half of the seats. She glanced through the limo window, then slid open the drawer between her legs.

No surprise: drugs and a six-pack of Trojans. Amanda removed the envelope of cocaine.

She felt the car rock as the driver got out. A few seconds later, the rear door swung open, and Tierney slipped inside. She took a seat opposite Amanda and brushed her dirty curls out of her face. She wasn’t smiling.

“This is about MJ, huh?” Her voice was girlish and made her sound even younger than she was.

Amanda nodded.

“Sorry, I must look like a mess,” Tierney apologized. “I’ve been really upset about what happened.”

“You look fine.”

Tierney gave her an embarrassed smile. “That’s nice of you to say.”

It was amazing, Amanda thought. In Las Vegas, even murder was no excuse for not looking your best.

“I guess you found the video,” Tierney added.

“Yes, we did.”

“God. I can’t believe I was so stupid. But MJ thought it was hot doing it on film. If this gets out, Moose is going to kill me.”

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “I hear he has a temper”

“No, no, I didn’t mean literally. Moose would never touch me. But he’d be upset, humiliated. I never wanted that.”

Her defenses were up. Amanda decided to go another way. “When did you go to San Francisco?”

“Sunday morning. As soon as I heard about MJ. My family’s there, and I told Moose I wanted to spend some time with my parents, but mostly I stayed in a downtown hotel and cried. I didn’t want Moose to see me that way. He’d wonder why.”

She was on the verge of tearing up. Amanda realized that Tierney wasn’t cold, like Karyn Westermark. This girl actually felt something for MJ.

“Were you in love with him?”

“Who, Moose?” Tierney asked, misunderstanding. “Of course. I know what everybody thinks, that he wanted a bimbo on his arm and I wanted his money. It’s not like that. We care about each other.”

“He does have a lot of money,” Amanda pointed out. Moose lived in Lake Las Vegas, a gated resort community on the other side of the mountains.

“Sure, but I won’t see any of that. I’m with him because he’s funny and sweet and he treats me nice. I was nothing before him.”

“What about MJ?”

Tierney stared blankly at the television screen in the limo for a long time before saying anything. “I’m twenty-four, okay?” She said it as if that were enough to explain everything.

“You have a reputation as a party girl. Lots of hookups.”

“Well, that’s crap,” Tierney retorted. Her brow wrinkled in annoyance. “I’ve only slept with a couple guys. Lately it was just MJ.”

Amanda wondered about the pack of condoms in the drawer under her feet. “Did Moose know about MJ? Or the others?”

“It was more like ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’ He knows there are things he can’t give me.”

“But what if he did find out? Moose has put a few people in the hospital in his time.”

“That was years ago! He’s eighty years old, for God’s sake.”

“But would he hire someone to send a message? He might not hurt you, but what about MJ?”

“You think Moose had MJ killed?” Tierney shook her head vehemently. “No way. First, he wouldn’t do that. I told you, we have an arrangement. And second, he didn’t know about MJ.”

“Come on, Tierney,” Amanda scolded her. “Don’t be naive. People knew. We didn’t recognize you from the video. We asked someone who MJ might be sleeping with, and yours was the first name that came up.”

Tierney’s mouth fell open. “Oh, shit. I can’t believe this.”

“Did you love MJ?”

“Love him? Yeah, a little, I guess. I don’t sleep with people I don’t care about, whatever you think.”

“Well, if Moose thought you had feelings for MJ, that might make him feel pretty vulnerable. Like you might leave him.”

“You’re wrong,” Tierney insisted. “Moose knows I would never do that. He’s sick. Cancer. He doesn’t have a lot of time left, and he knows I’ll be there for him. MJ, he was-well, I kind of wondered about the future. After.”

Amanda was having a hard time deciding whether Tierney was a sweet, lonely girl or a shrewd gold digger with her eyes on the next prize. If she was putting on an act, it was a good one.

“Did you know about MJ and Karyn Westermark?” Amanda asked.