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“You good if I start my new job in January so I can get acclimated and get stuff situated? I’m sure my mom’s place needs to be cleaned out and I’ll need to get a car and new clothes and stuff.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever you need. As long as the parole officer is okay with it. If not, we’ll just start you on the books and I’ll let them know you work here,” I say.
“Man, that would be amazing, thank you.” He pauses. “Thank you both. See you in four months!”
The phone beeps its one-minute warning and he says, “Bye!”
I end the call and look at my beautiful girlfriend. “I guess it’s time we talk about it.”
“Talk about what?” she asks.
“Well, unless you’re planning to break up with me, we have to tell him about us, love.”
She bites her lip. “I know. I don’t think he’s going to be very happy.”
I shake my head. “I don’t fucking care what he thinks.”
“Well, I do. And I know you do, too, no matter what you say,” she says from where she’d perched her ass on the edge of my desk.
I blow out a breath. “Okay, you’re right. I do care. But, Taryn, us telling him is a courtesy. It’s not a request for permission. I hope he’ll understand that.”
“I just think it’s best we wait until he’s out and settled. I’m reading a book right now about how to handle someone who’s just been released from prison. They need time to acclimate. Going from being told what to do, when to do it, and how... what to eat and when... where to be certain times of the day... it’s overwhelming to go from that to having a lot of freedom.”
“But he’d already had that freedom before he went in. It’s only been five-plus years.”
Taryn folds her hands in her lap. “Look at it this way. When Eric went in, we had a different president. The economy was different. There wasn’t a global pandemic that fundamentally changed how people do things. The price of housing and food wasn’t so high. Things are different now despite how we think they aren’t. He’ll need time.”
I look into her beautiful whiskey-colored eyes. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
She gets up, comes around my desk, and leans down to give me a peck on the mouth. “I’m always right.”
Chuckling, I smack her ass over her tight gray skirt and watch appreciatively as she saunters out of my office.
***
“Igot a problem I’mhoping you can help me with or else we’ll both be out an assload of money,” Jim Shaffer says over the phone. I hadn’t been expecting to hear from him for a couple of weeks, so when I saw him calling, I was surprised.
Alarmed, I reply, “Okay? What is it?”
“Well, we have a bit of a political scandal in the making on our hands. Apparently, Congresswoman Fisher received a video of her husband with one of the, uh, girls in the Mile High Rooms.”
I scrub a hand through my hair. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, I wish I was,” Jim Shaffer replies. “It’s in the rules. No video, right?”
“Of course. It’s the terms of agreement they checkmark when they download and pay for the app. Then, it’s in the contract they sign electronically. It’s also reiterated in the text they receive. And you put signs on the damn walls. But you can’t control what people do in the private rooms. There are no cameras for legal reasons, so if people are whipping out their phones and filming, there’s nothing we can do. At least they’re asked to leave them behind in the viewing rooms, but who knows if they truly do.”
He sighs. “Maybe we should make people leave just their phones in the car.”
“That won’t work. If people only need a password to enter, they’ll share it with others and we won’t be able to control how many people we’re expecting, and also devalues the app itself. Not to mention they could just hide the phone in their pockets. It’s not like we search the guests or have metal detectors.”
“Well, we might have to. The congresswoman is out for blood. She was told the woman in the video is a sex worker at an exclusive club here in the Denver area and now she’s demanding we be shut down. Threatening to get the authorities involved since prostitution is illegal in Colorado,” Jim says, sounding exhausted.
I lean back in my chair. “Do you have an attorney? You might need one, Jim. You’ll have to maintain you didn’t know the sex workers were in there, but if they come forward and show receipts...” I trail off.
Jim has known from day one that he can’t have sex workers in the club. It’s all supposed to be a mutual consent thing with no money exchanged, only a cover charge at the door. But I found out he “incentivizes” men and women to be there, and are getting paid.
“Yeah, I know,” he replies. “Can you send a mass text out reminding all the users that there is to be no video or audio recording done, and if they are found to have done so, their privileges will be revoked indefinitely?”
