“I
think you’re right about Daryl being a whore,” Beth said.
She
was lonely and grateful that Michonne and Rick had accepted her invitation to dinner. She’d never
forget the shock or confusion she’d felt upon seeing Daryl dressed as a priest.
Then that trashy bitch with the mean eyes cruel laugh had come and Beth
realized the truth: He was wearing a costume.
“Oh?”
asked Michonne.
“I
invited him to lunch but he said he had plans. I went back over to invite him
to dinner another night and that’s when he opened the door dressed like a
priest.”
Rick
started laughing from the living room where he was installing a new window air
conditioner. Michonne was grinning as well.
“That’s
too much,” she said.
“Oh, and you should have seen his client,” Beth added, and began to describe her.
“I don’t know why but I think of Cruella de Vil when she comes to mind. I’ll
bet he’s still with her.”
With
a thoughtful expression, Michonne watched Beth slicing cucumbers for a salad.
“You
were really disappointed when he turned down your invitation, huh?”
Beth
tried to shrug it off but she wasn’t fooling Michonne. It didn’t make sense to
her why she’d been bothered that Daryl had turned her down. He was friendly, he was
good-looking, but he wasn’t her type. He was too old for her anyway, and he slept with women
for profit. She knew, as she felt Michonne’s knowing gaze linger on her, that
she wasn’t fooling the older woman. Hell, she couldn’t even fool herself that she was interested in him, regardless of how she tried to rationalize why she shouldn't be.
Thankfully Michonne didn’t press the issue.
“How
does someone have sex with another person for money?” Beth wondered aloud.
Michonne
considered it and took a drink of the white wine she’d brought over for dinner. “I
guess they learn how to shut certain parts of themselves off,” Michonne said.
“Or it could be that they have a different view of sex than most people
do. Or,” she added, her eyes meeting Rick’s, “maybe they’ve learned to just
shut their feelings down completely, so that everything they do becomes an act
that has no real feeling behind it.”
Rick
looked away, seemingly stung by Michonne’s words, but Beth caught the exchange
between them. For the first time she wondered if there was more to Rick and
Michonne’s relationship than work.
They
ate dinner in somewhat tense silence. Beth spent the time wanting to ask them
what was going on between them but she held her tongue. After dinner, Rick
helped her clear away the dishes and they left when the sun
was beginning its descent, turning the sky brilliant hues of red and gold.
Beth
slipped her phone into her pocket and decided to walk the halls of the building.
She used to go for walks after dinner with her parents, sometimes with Maggie,
and she missed stretching her legs. Her eyes went to the door of the unit
across from hers and she wondered if he was still with her. After that, she
wondered why she gave a damn.
Beth
explored the building, finding a laundry room on the first floor at the end of
the hall. She wondered if perhaps not all units had a washer and dryer as hers did. She wondered if Rick or Michonne would bite her head off for going
outside and decided they probably would. Instead she headed upstairs, finding
that the third floor was exactly like the first and second, with one
exception--there was a door that led to the roof.
Curious,
she went up the weakly lit staircase and emerged onto a roof that had been
finished in a bare courtyard and set up with a couple of small tables and plastic
chairs that had seen much better days. Beth wouldn't have trusted a single chair not to collapse had she sat down. She walked to the side of the building and looked out onto the town that stretched out before her.
The
stonework had absorbed heat during the day and now released it. Beth felt a
light sheen of sweat form as she leaned against the wall of the courtyard. She
thought her father would have liked this town. It was bigger than Senoia but a
lot more thought had gone into planning. The town itself looked like it had
been decorated for tourism. Antebellum architecture was popular, as were
cobblestone streets and street signs carved from wood. There seemed to be a
great deal of wrought iron gates and fences, and brickwork.
The
door to the courtyard opened and she thought maybe Michonne had come up to
check on her. Instead it was Daryl Dixon. His priests outfit was gone, replaced
by a pair of gray sweat shorts and a simple white tank top. She tried to tell
herself he didn’t look good, that he didn't have really nice legs, but it was a waste of time. He did look good and his legs were strong and sexy.
“Hey,
Sutton,” he said.
“Call
me Bethany, please, Father Dixon.”
He
smiled at that, which managed to put her at ease and mildly arouse her at the same time.
“I
like to watch the sun set from here,” he said. “There’s a lake due north. You
can see it right about now because it looks like a puddle of molten gold.
Look.”
He
pointed straight ahead and Beth’s eye easily caught what did indeed look like a
big puddle of gold that shimmered in the dying rays of the sunlight. The street
lights had all come on, glowing with soft white light. Soon it would be
completely dark. Since they were in town Beth thought it unlikely it would be
easy to see the stars. She was right. Only the brightest managed to show
through the canopy of artificial light that covered the town.
“How
far away is it?” Beth asked, regarding the lake, after a long break of comfortable silence between them.
“About
fifteen miles out. You can't see all of it from here, though. It’s called Glory Lake. It’s big, makes me think of the
ocean in some ways. You should see it.”
“Maybe
I will.”
Beth
and Daryl shared a few moments of comfortable silence. She tried to be discreet
while she watched him gazing out at the small town he called home by choice,
and that she called home because her choices had been taken from her.
“May
I ask a personal question? I understand if you say no,” Beth queried.
“Do
I get to ask a question in return?”
“Sure.
That’s how people get to know each other, right?”
Daryl
nodded and leaned on his left elbow to face her. “Right. Ask away.”
“Why
were you dressed like a priest?”
Daryl
knew she would be curious about that. He considered making up a lie because he
wanted, for reasons he had yet to fathom, Bethany Sutton to like him. He
decided to be honest. He didn’t know if their association would go anywhere, be
it friendship or more, and he didn’t want to start out on a foundation of lies.
“I’m
a male courtesan. A cavalier servente, if you will. Ophelia likes a religious theme on
Sundays.”
“A
courtesan,” Beth said. She didn’t think she’d ever heard that term.
“I’m
a long-term, paid lover,” he elaborated.
“Oh,
so you’re a…a…”
“Whore,”
he supplied, though without anger in his voice.
“Whore
seems like a strong word,” Beth said, feeling embarrassed. This made Daryl
laugh. She was trying to be courteous when most people would pass judgment. He appreciated that and it made him like her even more.
“I
don’t just sleep with however many women I can in a day. I don’t pick them up
off the street. I have three clients that I service long-term,” he explained.
“I also work for Parrish Interiors painting rooms and moving furniture as a
sort of ‘day job.’ I’m a licensed masseur and give massages for a living.”
“You’re
a jack of all trades?”
He
nodded. “Master of none.”
“I
would have to disagree on that last one, lover. You are a master at sex.”
Ophelia
had come onto the courtyard and she was dressed in some kind of ugly getup that
looked like her skinny body was wrapped in strips of gauze, making Beth think of a mummy. She was clearly
naked underneath.
“New
client?” Ophelia asked, looking Beth over with a critical, callous eye.
“Honestly, Daryl, she doesn’t look as though she could afford you, though I
must say, my dear, he is worth every penny.”
Beth
took offense at the woman’s attitude. Normally Beth avoided confrontations, but
this woman had managed to get under her skin and rile her up after only a few words. Beth would have been impressed with the woman's ability to be obnoxious enough to royally piss her off so quickly had she not been so angry.
Rather
than respond harshly, Beth simply smiled sweetly and said, in a sugary voice, “He said
he’d fuck me for free. I guess young
pussy that can get wet without a bottle of lube is a turn on.”
Daryl’s
mouth had begun twitching and Beth was sure he was going to smile, if not
outright laugh. Ophelia was outraged and shouted, “Bitch!”
She
let out a loud screech and suddenly lunged at Beth. Her claw-like nails slashed
down the right side of Beth’s face and neck, drawing long, thin lines of blood.
“What
the--” Beth said, unprepared for the attack.
Ophelia
was stronger than she looked. She shoved Beth down and grabbed hold of her
ponytail, trying, it seemed, to rip it from Beth’s head, all the while
screeching like an enraged barn owl.
“Ophelia!”
Daryl shouted.
“You
stupid girl! You stupid, stupid girl!”
Daryl
worked to force Ophelia to release Beth’s hair. The door crashed open and Beth
saw that both Rick and Michonne had emerged onto the rooftop courtyard,
searching for her. Daryl hauled Ophelia away while Beth tried to catch her
breath.
“Truth
hurts, don’t it?” Beth shot back, feeling the scratches burn and tears sting at
her eyes. She wanted to strike back so badly but Daryl had finally managed to subdue her. She decided to let it go.
“What
the hell is going on here?” Michonne demanded.
“This is none of your concern, you black bitch!” Ophelia shouted.
“That’s
enough, Ophelia!” Daryl shouted.
She
pulled away from him. “How dare you dictate to me? Have you forgotten I own
you?”
Beth
honestly thought for a moment that Daryl was going to strike her. He didn’t. He
stared Ophelia in the eye and crowded her, his blue eyes stormy and
threatening. She began to back away from him, caving, cowering, realizing she’d
gone too far.
“Nobody
owns me, especially you. Do you understand? Nobody owns me. Say it.”
“Nobody
owns you.”
“And?”
“Especially
me,” she added meekly.
“Get
your ass downstairs. Not another word.”
Ophelia
obediently left, slipping past Rick and Michonne with her head down. He looked
at Beth, who now stood with Michonne.
“You
okay, Bethany?”
She
nodded. “I’m fine.”
“I’m
sorry for what happened. I’m sorry for what she said to you, Miss,” he added,
looking at Michonne.
“Michonne
Kelley. This is my partner, Rick Grimes.”
Daryl
nodded at Rick and then left. When he was gone, Rick began looking over Beth’s
wounds.
“Come
on. I’ll clean these scratches.”
Beth
took out her phone when the alarm sounded. She pressed a button and a second
later Rick’s phone began to ring. He answered it.
“Just
checking in,” she said, before hanging up and walking away.
Her
life, she decided, had gone down the toilet and she didn’t think she’d ever get
back to something normal.
*~*~*
Beth sat in Rick and Michonne’s apartment while he got
a first aid kit out.
“What
was that all about?” he asked.
“After
dinner I went around to explore the building and I found the roof courtyard and was up there when Daryl
came up. We were talking but Ophelia interrupted and got rude. I said something
back and then she scratched at me, started screaming, and attacked me. Daryl
was trying to pull her off and then you guys came up.”
“Her
name is Ophelia?” Michonne said.
Beth
shrugged and then hissed when Rick began to swab rubbing alcohol over the
scratches to disinfect them. “That’s what Daryl calls her.”
“These
don’t look too bad,” Rick said. “They’ll scab over and be gone in a week’s
time.”
“I
can’t believe her. She’s a nutjob,” Beth said, tenderly touching at the
scratches. “I may not get the job at the Flower Street CafĂ© because of this.”
“Wear
a scarf and put your hair down. They’ll hardly be noticeable,” Michonne said,
as she sat down at the computer. “I’m going to run a sweep on Ophelia, see what
her story is.”
Beth
nodded. “I hope I don’t have any more issues with her.”
“Try
to avoid her. If she attacks again we’ll be there,” said Rick.
“How
did you know when to come tonight?”
“We
monitor your vitals. If you’re in distress we receive text alerts and an alarm
sounds. We not only know where you are, we know if you’re distressed.”
Beth
swallowed. “Um…what if I meet someone, though? What if I’m…intimate…with them.
Will that read as distress?”
Rick
and Michonne chuckled. They could understand her concern. The last thing Beth
would want is them busting in on her while she’s in bed with someone.
“If
you’re going to be intimate with someone text us the number 632. We’ll know not
to come running to your rescue.”
Not
for the first time, Beth realized just how messed up her situation was. She
couldn’t have a normal life until Negan was put away. She was going to have to
live being monitored, checking in and sending texts before she can have sex. There was no privacy in her life. It
was depressing and made her angrier than even Ophelia’s attack.
“I’m
going to bed. I’m going to walk the application down to the diner first thing
in the morning,” Beth said. She was telling Rick, not asking permission. She’d
be damned if she would live her life unable to even make a simple trip half a
block away without asking permission like she was a ten-year-old. He simply
nodded and, feeling better, Beth headed to her apartment.
She’d
just opened her door when the door to 2A opened and Ophelia exited looking
red-eyed and angry. She stared at Beth with the utmost contempt but didn’t
speak. Daryl had a stony look on his face as he watched her go. That look
softened when his eyes met Beth’s. He gave her a small smile that she returned.
“Good
night, Sutton,” he said, once again using her alias last name.
“Good
night, Father Dixon,” she answered. They were both smiling when they finally
closed the doors to their apartments.
Beth
locked her door, leaned against it, and then broke into laughter.
Damn
it to hell if she had developed a crush on the man in the apartment across the
hall. She climbed under the covers feeling warm and sexy. As Beth lay in the
relative darkness of her apartment, she allowed her hands to wander, one into her
underwear, the other under her tee-shirt to rub and pinch softly at her nipples. She pretended it was Daryl’s hands that touched her, and brought her
much needed release. Even though she forgot to text 632 to Rick and Michonne,
neither one came knocking on her door.
*~*~*
Beth
was up early the next morning, awaking at five a.m. to turn on the local news
while her coffee brewed. She’d forgotten that it was Memorial Day until the
anchor mentioned it. She would have had the day off since her old boss, Gayle
Miller, was a Veteran and would have closed the pharmacy for the holiday. She
would have spent it at home with her father and Maggie, had her life not been
interrupted by this business with Negan and Martinez. They would have had a
barbecue in the back yard that night with friends from town and neighboring
farms coming over to celebrate.
Such
thoughts were on Beth’s mind as she filled in the application, careful to use
the information she’d learned in the file for her new identity, before she took
time to sort through the closet to decide what to wear. She decided on a dark
blue denim miniskirt with a fuchsia tank draped over a tighter fitting white
tank. She wore white flat sandals and strung some beads over her neck before
letting her hair down and adding a scarf to try to cover the scratches on her
neck. Beth rarely wore makeup, but she lightly applied some color to her eyes
and cheeks before grabbing the employment application and heading out.
It
was a warm, humid morning when Beth emerged from the building. She breathed in
the fresh air and started a leisurely stroll down the street. As she started to
pass the parking lot exit of her building a motorcycle came to a stop to allow
her to pass. She knew it was Daryl even before he turned to face her.
“Morning,”
she said.
“Morning.
What has you out so early, Sutton?”
“I’m
going to drop off this application. I need a job if I’m going to keep the rent
paid,” she said.
His
eyes wandered over her from her head to her feet. His gaze communicated
interest but not criticism and she felt herself warm. The look was a like a
physical touch on her skin and her nipples hardened embarrassingly. She crossed
her arms but it was too late--he’d seen. When his eyes met hers there was
amusement mixed in with something else that she thought may have been desire.
“Good
luck. I’m sure you’ll get the job.”
He
continued on, heading the opposite way up the street. She
watched him go, wondering what it would be like to hop onto the back of the
bike and ride somewhere with him. She had that thought on her mind when she
crossed the street at the corner and went up to the doors just as the woman
from the day before, Ruby, was passing by inside. Beth held up her application
and she unlocked the door to allow her in.
“Come
in, Doll,” Ruby said kindly. “Sit down at a table, breakfast is on me. We don’t
open until seven on Sundays and holidays.”
Beth
ordered simple bacon, eggs, and toast and had orange juice to drink while Ruby
sat across from her, smoking a cigarette without asking if it would be a bother
to Beth. She was accustomed to being exposed to smoke, at least a little, since
her father had been prone to toking on a corn pipe once in awhile in the evenings ever since she could remember.
“So,
tell me a little about yourself. What brings you to Springston?” asked Ruby.
“I’m
striking out on my own. I want to become my own woman,” Beth said.
Ruby
nodded. “I left home at seventeen. I had a handsy stepfather, if you know what
I’m saying. Is that your problem?”
Beth
shook her head no, even while she felt pity for Ruby. “No, nothing like that. I
just want to be on my own.”
“Good
for you. A lot of kids your age are afraid to leave home nowadays. Can’t blame
‘em with the economy what it is. It’s hard to make it. Have you worked before?
I don’t see the work history filled in on the application.”
“No,
ma’am. This would be my first job,” Beth said. She’d seen nothing of a work
history in her file. She prayed to God that whatever genius had made her a
poor, high school dropout with low ambition, hadn’t forgotten to put any fake
jobs Bethany Sutton may have associated with her equally fake past into the
file so she wasn’t left with egg on her face if Ruby checked her out.
“I detect an accent that isn't from Georgia,” Beth noted.
“I was born and raised in the Bronx,” Ruby explained. “I never lost the accent completely. As to this being your first job, well, you couldn’t have picked a better place to work. I own this little joint and I’m a kind boss.”
“I detect an accent that isn't from Georgia,” Beth noted.
“I was born and raised in the Bronx,” Ruby explained. “I never lost the accent completely. As to this being your first job, well, you couldn’t have picked a better place to work. I own this little joint and I’m a kind boss.”
“Ha!”
came from the kitchen.
“Shut
up and get to work, Dale!” Ruby hollered back.
An
older man with a kind face was peering through the window between the grill and
the counter with a big smile on his face. He winked at Ruby before nodding at
Beth and disappearing back to his domain.
“He
has a crush on me,” Ruby whispered.
“Do
you have one on him?” Beth inquired leaning forward and speaking in a conspiratorial voice. She was answered with a coy wink from Ruby
and they both giggled like schoolgirls.
Beth
was hired on the spot and then given a short tour of the café behind the
scenes. Ruby explained the job and promised that she would start Beth off
light, keeping her behind the counter so she could learn the register. It
wasn’t easy pretending not to understand how to work a cash register but she
pulled it off and earned praise from Ruby on being a quick learner. She was also introduced to the waitresses when they came in.
Bianca
Salas was a middle-aged Latina, the same woman who’d served Beth and Michonne
on their visit the day before. She was kind and liked to laugh and talk about
her children and her recently deceased husband. Both subjects made her eyes
mist over with a mix of sadness and affection. Two of her three kids were away
at college and her third child was a high school junior.
Then
there was Kylie Henry, a pretty black girl in her early twenties who was going
to school at night to earn her degree in business. Kylie was friendly but not
overly so, and Ruby told Beth that Kylie took a bit longer to warm up to
someone before opening up about herself.
Dale
Horvath worked in the kitchen, along with his friend George Platt. Dale was
easygoing while George didn’t so much as look at Beth for more than a second
before going back to work. Beth was told that this is just who George was and
that it was also the reason he wasn’t allowed to work out front. This comment
drew laughter from Dale and a small smile from George.
Business
was slow starting off but it picked up around ten a.m. From there time flew by.
Ruby was able to help wait tables while Beth took over the counter. It was
nearly two in the afternoon when she excused herself to go to the bathroom to
make her check-in.
“How
do you like your new job?” Michonne asked.
“It’s
hectic and I talk to a lot of people. I love it,” Beth said with genuine
enthusiasm.
“Good,”
Michonne said, sounding pleased. “We’ll see you this evening. Rick and I
thought we’d take you out for dinner to celebrate.”
“Sounds
fun. See you later!”
She
hung up the phone and stepped out of the bathroom. She was just about to
approach the counter. Daryl was coming in and she wanted to say hello. Her
eyes, however, were drawn to a man standing at the counter, and the floor
seemed to disappear under her feet and she was in free fall.
The
man at the counter was Negan.
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