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Part 12 of The Drop House finds Helen taking care of personal business.  Teresa, in the meantime, is trying to find the money in Podeka, Kansas.  Enjoy Part 12.  See you on Friday.  I will be posting a new part on Fridays, too.




HELEN GLANCED DOWN AT her phone and back to Frank.  There was only one reason Teresa had called her and wanted the tracking system turned on.  The money was gone from the house.  Teresa needed to locate it.  Helen was not that worried, though.  Teresa gave her confidence that she would find the money soon.


Helen put her phone back inside her pocket and looked at Frank.  He was as depressing as his apartment—filthy and pathetic with no redeeming qualities.


“I assume your visit is over,” Frank said, sarcastically.  The phone call Helen received sounded serious.  “You don’t have to stay on my account.”


Helen laughed reservedly.  “I apologize for taking that call while we were talking,” she said.  “I had to.  That was my stepdaughter.  She’s working on a project out of state.  She needed to update me.”  She flashed a smile.  “Anyway, I won’t bore you with the details.  Besides, you have a few more minutes to decide on my offer.”


“I’m thinking,” Frank said.


He was thinking.  But, it was not about her offer.  He wondered how he would ever get his life back.  It had been three years since he controlled his own life.  In prison, three inmates owned him for their pleasure and profit.  Then, Detective James rescued him from the inmates to make him his snitch.  And now, this crazy federal…parole officer…whatever she was…was about to save him from Detective James.  Then, she would own him.  Out of the frying pan into the fire, he thought.  But what could he do?


Maybe this Darcy Hempton, shit bird parole officer, was not serious, he thought.  This old pervert could be trying to set him up.  He could feel it.  Something was not right about her.


He looked her over.  She was around five-ten.  She looked to be in okay shape.  But, she looked more like a college professor than a parole officer or federal agent.  He studied the way she leaned back against the counter.  She appeared comfortable holding that gun and pointing it at him.  He was sure she would shoot him if he lunged at her.  He could tell she was used to ordering people around.  She was probably a strict old woman.  Nothing about her demeanor suggested she was the type who would kid around.


What if she was telling him the truth? He thought.  What if she was just an educated, power-hungry slut like all the rest of the women’s population.  He could be screwed big time.  Not pleasantly either.


“I’m not waiting for an answer forever,” she said.  “If you don’t want to take care of me others will.  And I don’t care who occupies the spots.  Get my drift?  If I were you, I’d take the offer.  I know the system did you wrong.  You must have some built up payback inside you.  Think about what I’m offering you.  You can release all that pent up anger into me.  Make me pay for everything that the system has done to you.”


She was serious, he thought.  Desperate old slut wants a young black stud.  Alright.  He could make this work.  Having sex with her would be better than going back to prison.  He was going to wear this old heifer out.  She was a freak.  But she had come to the wrong place to party this time.  Parole officer or no parole officer, he was going to treat her like a common whore on the street in a back alley.  She wants it.  She will get it.  Then he had a thought.  If this bitch will pay six-hundred per month, she will pay more.  Clearly, she wanted him.  Or, she would not have been begging the way she was.  Horny old woman.


“Make it one thousand,” he said.  “And I’ll do it.  Any way you want it.  Any place.  Any time.  You call.  My ass is there.”


“What are you doing?” she asked.  “That’s illegal.  Fleecing an officer of the court.  You know what fleecing is, don’t you?”


“Woman, I’m not stupid,” he said.  “You get what you want.  I get what I want.”


She nodded slowly.  “Okay,” she said casually.  His face relaxed a little.  “But…”


“I knew it,” he said, quickly.  “You’re going to introduce some weird shit.  I knew it.  I knew it from the start.  You’re not putting anything up me.  So forget it.  Screw that.  It ain’t happening.  You’re crazier than…”


“I have no desire or intention of doing anything that despicable,” she said.  “What I was going to say is that you have to also get your buddy over here.”  He looked confused.  “Dino.  Your pothead friend that you run with.  Tell him to come over here.  We’ll have a party tonight.  It’ll be your first chance and first installment.  I’m treating myself tonight.  It won’t cost either of you anything.  And, if I like it, we’ll set up a schedule.”


“What?” he asked.


“Oh, one more thing,” she said.  He leaned over.  “Don’t.”  She stiffened her arm with the gun pointed at him.


His hands went up in the air.  “I wasn’t doing anything except scratching my ankle,” he said.


“Good,” she said.  “I’m here to screw you.  Not kill you.  But, I have something for you.  I think you’ll like this.”


She reached into her pocket and brought out a small plastic bag.  It was two inches wide and long.  She held it in the air between her thumb and forefinger.  He sat up.


Frank’s eyes grew wide.  His weakness was right in front of him.  A fine white powder.  Cocaine?  Better than that cheap shit he got.  He could not take his eyes off that baggie.  His throat was dry.  Just a small taste would calm his nerves.  He was ready to salivate.


“Straight from Columbia,” she said.  “Top stuff.  None of that street garbage that you buy, use, and sell.  This is premium.  You heat it up.  You give yourself a shot.  I give you a few blue pills on top of it.  You get an unbelievable erection.  And we start the evening.  But not before your friend gets here.  We could have an enjoyable parole officer and parolee relationship.  Think about that.  Four years of free.  Everything free.”  She swung the baggie in the air.  “And all you have to do is satisfy me four times a month.”  She put the baggie back into her pocket.  “Call Dino.  Because I think you’re primed.  He’s holding up the show.”


“Are you doing some too?” he asked.


“No,” she said.  “I get tested.  I’m only giving it to you two so you don’t kill me.  Not sexually.  Literally.  I want you to get excited.  But I also don’t want you to choke me.  I want you a bit subdued.  Now, are you going to call or not?”  She reached into her pocket and brought out four baggies.  “On the side, we’ll run a little business.  I can supply you with all the product you’ll ever need.  Lovers and business partners.  We’ll make a heck of a pair.”


He rubbed his chin.  He did not count on the day going like this when he woke up.  “Alright,” he said.  “You’re a sneaky one.”  She was.  He needed to jump on this before Ms. Crazy changed her mind.  “My phone is on the counter.”  He pointed to it.


“No,” she said.  She reached into her pocket and took out a cell phone and tossed it to him.  It landed on the floor.  “Use that phone.  That’ll be our private line.  Our personal phone.  Now call him because all this talk is getting me hot.  Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I don’t get wound up.”


He picked up the phone and looked at it.  Then he looked up at her.


“It’s more secure,” she said.  “And I took the liberty to put his number in it.  I’ve set it up where I’m going to be both yours and Dino’s parole officer.”


“You are a crazy woman,” he said.  “But, I get it.”  He pushed the call icon and waited.


“Put it on speaker,” she said.


“You still don’t trust me?” he asked.


She shook her head.  “You’re a felon,” she said.  “In due time I’ll trust you.  Maybe after tonight.  Now put it on speaker.”


Frank had just gone to speaker when a man answered.  “Hello,” a male’s voice said.


“Dino, it’s Frank,” he said.  Dino asked what he wanted.  “Get over here right now, man.  You’re not going to believe this shit.”  He glanced at Helen.  She smiled at him.  “Get over here.  Can you have your ass here in ten minutes?”


“Yeah, man,” Dino said.


“Then hurry up, damn it,” Frank said.


Helen slid her hand across her throat for him to end the call.   He ended it.  She held up a baggie.


“You want to get started?” she asked.  “Maybe we’ll do a trial run without Dino.  When he gets here he can join us.”


“Hell yes,” he said and went to stand.


“Not so fast,” she said.  “I have to learn to trust you.”


“You’re the one with the gun,” he said.


She moved to the side and tossed him the baggie.  “It’s a combo of heroin and coke,” she said.


He went over to the stove and hurriedly prepared it.  He barely let it cool before putting it into the syringe.


She watched him tie the thick band around his arm.  He tapped his arm and found a vein.  He lined the needle up with the vein and pushed it into his arm.  He pushed the plunger down until all the liquid was inside him.  He became unsteady in seconds.  He stumbled over to the sofa and collapsed on it.


Helen walked up to him and stared down on him.  “Isn’t that nice,” she said.  He mumbled.  “Just wait for what’s coming.  You’ll love it.  I know I will.  You’re going to get the bang of your life.”  She smiled at him.  “You’ll see.”


Frank lay still with his eyes open, looking up at her.  His gaze was in a faraway place.


I hope you enjoyed Part 12.  See you Friday.  Have a great week.  Thanks for stopping by and checking in on The Drop House.


Stephen Wallace