Chapter 3.2
The bell jingled once more as the door slowly pulled itself closed, the hammering of the rain immediately silenced as Tiffany shook herself dry before cautiously lifting her head and taking a look around the quiet store. The darkness was fighting a constant battle with whatever light attempted to emerge from the bulbs overhead, the rows and rows of products neatly aligned making the interior appear bigger than Tiffany had first imagined from the outside. The rows of shelves were only about shoulder height, enabling Tiff to see in a perfect circle all around the quaint, decor of the business. In the corner sat a small counter, the cash register sat proudly atop the surface of the wood, as the a door behind stood slightly open, the sign emblazoned across the glass simply reading 'OFFICE'.
"She'll be here somewhere." Rita said, turning and beginning to walk towards the counter.
"I don't know..." Tiffany remarked as she began to follow, flicking her wet hair back over her shoulder. "Maybe she's stuck in the 50s like the rest of this place."
"Don't let her hear you say that." Rita answered, looking as she spoke, the quiet tones of Frank Sinatra carrying partially across the store as the radio played to itself. Without warning Rita opened her mouth and called out. "Mrs Appleby?"
No answer...
"This is a bad idea." Tiffany proclaimed as she took yet another look around. "Let's go back to the city."
"Nice try." Rita glanced in Tiffany's direction and smirked. "Like it or not, this is where you stay... MRS APPLEBY?"
Tiffany covered her hears as Rita's voice rang out around the store, the wooden walls seeming to absorb the noise, all the while amplifying it. With a creak, the door to the office swung ominously open, the girls looking on as the black, empty void behind looking completely devoid of life. It was as Rita and Tiffany reached the middle of the store that the door behind them flew open with a bang, the two of them caught by surprise as they spun, Rita clutching her chest as the two girls laid their eyes on the woman before them. Tiffany's eyes felt they were being tricked as they took in the short, scrawny appearance of the woman before her. The long, straggly hair reminded Tiffany of straw, split ends riddling every strand as it came to a rest half way down her back. The wrinkled face, hidden behind a pair of narrow glasses, seemed to suggest a long, hard life as Tiffany's eyes continued, falling over the small and feeble body beneath. The long, thin, vein covered arms poked out from beneath an old t-shirt and a filthy apron as a pair of short, wiry legs emerged from a knee length skirt and came to a rest in a pair of scruffy, old, slippers, the wrinkled stockings almost falling around the ankles as the little old woman jumped a mile.
"Sweet Jesus!" The woman placed a hand on her heart and took a step back. "Don't you know it's bad manners to creep around in the dark like that?"
"Creep around?" Tiffany answered. "Are you fucking joking?"
Rita shot her a scowl, before turning her attention back to the frail figure before them.
"Hey Mrs Appleby." She spoke softly. "Sorry if we gave you a fright."
Removing her glasses, quickly wiping them along her apron before returning them to the bridge of her nose, Mrs Appleby furrowed her brow and looked at Rita.
"Rita, my darling." She smiled as she walked forward and past the girls, heading towards the other end of the store. "How are you? Can you believe this weather my child?"
"I know." Rita laughed as she followed, signalling for Tiffany to do so. "What's it all about? Supposed to be summer right?"
"Dear god in heaven, I don't know what it's going to do from one day to the next." Mrs Appleby laughed too, reaching the office door as she shuffled along, her feet barely leaving the floor as she walked.
Reaching the office, Mrs Appleby reached out with a long, gangly arm and held the door wide open, beckoning both the girls through. Offering Tiffany a smile as she passed, Mrs Appleby turned and closed the door behind them as she flicked on a light and the office became illuminated in a fluorescent glow. Pulling out a seat each, Rita and Tiffany sat themselves down as Mrs Appleby approached the other side of the desks and quickly sat opposite them both.
"Okay," Rita began. "Mrs Appleby, this is Tiffany. Tiffany, this is Mrs Appleby."
"Oh my." Mrs Appleby turned and took a long hard look at Tiffany. "Aren't you just the most beautiful little thing?"
Was she joking? Was she sugar coating everything she said? Or was she just trying to get Tiffany onside? One thing was for sure, Tiffany wasn't used to this kind of greeting, responding automatically as she felt the words fall from her tongue, her eyes narrowing as she examined the wrinkled little woman.
"Hi."
"Now," Rita turned to Tiff as she placed the file on the desk. "Mrs Appleby's had various offenders work for her. She enrolled on the probation program almost three years ago and we've had nothing but success."
"Indeed, has it been nearly three years already?" Mrs Appleby placed her bony elbows on the lacquered surface of the desk. "But to tell the truth, I need the help. As you can see Tiffany, my best days are long gone. Old age is certainly doing its best to slow me down. Seems like every day I find something else I struggle with out in the store."
"I can see that." Tiffany answered quickly, almost feeling a pinch of sympathy.
"I've been over the terms of Miss Valentine's license with her." Rita spoke to Mrs Appleby, her smile still beaming away as she took in the sight of the young, attractive girl before her. "But I'll obviously need to go over things with you also."
"Of course dear." Mrs Appleby turned her attention to Rita. "Of course."
"Now, the probation period is to last eighteen months." Rita began as she placed paperwork in front of Mrs Appleby, running the tip of her pen from one line to the other as she spoke, pointing out the basics. "During this time, Miss Valentine a minimum of six hours labour each day, five days a week, unpaid of course. At no time is money to exchange hands between yourself and Miss Valentine. She'll receive an allowance from the state, and no more. If she approaches you about this, then you alert me immediately."
"I see." Mrs Appleby glanced at Tiffany once more and smiled, Tiffany feeling the slightest hint of awkwardness as Rita highlighted the terms of her probation.
"You'll also have to keep record of the shifts Miss Valentine works, which will be collected every time I visit." Rita continued. "Obviously, you've done all this before Mrs Appleby, but the state of Illinois requires me to go over this every time for it to be legally binding."
"Don't worry my dear." Mrs Appleby answered with a slight laugh, turning into a cough as she reached for Rita's pen and began to sign the paper. "I understand."
"As for you Tiffany." Rita spun and shot Tiffany a stern look, the tone in her Hispanic accent cutting the air like a knife. "I'm going to point out right now that Mrs Appleby has a panic system fitted on site. This is purely in the event of any 'trouble'. The local sheriff's office can be here within three minutes, so don't think about pulling anything."
"Oh Rita," Mrs Appleby began, lifting her gaze from the paperwork and looking from Rita to Tiffany. "I'm sure there's no need for that. This girl looks perfectly harmless. I see a quiet innocence in her eyes."
Stunned, Tiffany smiled at Mrs Appleby before averting her eyes in Rita's direction. What the hell did she think she was going to do? Murder the old cow and be off before the night was out?
"With all due respect Mrs Appleby, it's better I point it out now than have something untoward happen somewhere down the line. It's for your safety, which is paramount." Rita explained.
Handing back the signed paper work, Mrs Appleby sat back in her flimsy wooden chair, the legs creaking under the strain as she lay her hands across her chest, the finger intertwining as she smiled peacefully at Rita.
"Thank you my dear. I certainly appreciate it."
"Can I just ask something?" Tiffany sat forward, arm semi-raised as both Rita and Mrs Appleby turned their attention to her.
"Of course." Rita answered, the fluorescent light of the office lending a subtle glow to her olive skin.
"Where the hell am I supposed to be sleeping?" Tiffany asked as she lowered her arm.
"Why with me my dear. Up at the house." Mrs Appleby replied with a soft, gentle laugh.
"I thought so." Tiffany sank back into her chair. "But what about clothes? Things like that? They literally kicked me out of Logan with nothing but the clothes on my back and a couple of valuables. I can't really carry out 'duties' dressed like this can I?"
"I guess not." Rita replied.
"I don't know." Mrs Appleby started laughing, eying the short dress, Tiffany's cleavage almost falling over the hem. "Maybe custom would pick up a bit, who knows?"
Turning from Mrs Appleby, and with a beaming smile across her lips, Rita narrowed her eyes as she began to see the practicality of Tiffany's query.
"You do have a point I guess."
"It'll be no trouble." Mrs Appleby suddenly pushed herself from the chair, standing before the two girls as she walked to the office door, reaching it as her feet shuffled along the wooden floor boards and pulling it open. "There's plenty of clothes up at the house. The girls I've had here before were probably a similar size to you. Maybe not across the bust, but if that's all we've to worry about then I don't think there's a problem."
"You know what?" Rita stood, grabbing her bag along with Tiffany's file from the desk, gesturing for Tiffany to stand with her. "I never even thought about that. Thank you Mrs Appleby, that would be a great help."
"Yes," Tiffany sneered. "Thanks."
"Such an angel." Mrs Appleby took a deep breath as she stared at Tiffany. "I can see me and you are going to get along very well. In fact, I think you could be just the girl I've been waiting for."
Feeling nauseous, Tiffany left the glaring glow of the office and entered the dull, ambience of the store, Rita following as Mrs Appleby flicked off the light and closed the door behind them.
"Are you sure you want me up in the house with you?" Tiffany turned to Mrs Appleby, suddenly seeing a concerned expression cross her wrinkled face as she pursed her lips together.
"Well yes." Mrs Appleby answered. "Why on earth not?"
"Well Rita seems more concerned over the fact you might wake up dead than you do." Tiffany smiled. "I could stay in a hotel or something."
"Nice try Tiffany." Rita scowled.
"To be honest," Mrs Appleby started. "I'll be glad of the company. It's been awfully lonely since my Gerald passed away. He used to run the store you see. I was more of a 'stay at home' kind of wife."
"I see." Tiffany replied, feeling a touch of sympathy.
"So as far as that goes, I'll be delighted to have some company again." Mrs Appleby continued.
"How long since he died?" Tiffany asked, noticing Rita's head flicking back and forth as she observed the conversation.
"Oh, about five years almost." Mrs Appleby bowed her head slightly. "Yes, five years this Christmas."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Tiffany found her eyes now focusing on the floor.
The silence fell awkwardly around the three women, none knowing the best way to continue, until Rita suddenly spoke, giving Mrs Appleby.
"I'd better get going then. Paperwork to do back at the office." She smiled before turning and shooting Tiffany a curious look. "Don't try anything Tiffany. Get your head down, do what's asked and it'll be over in no time."
"I know." Tiffany whispered.
Turning and heading towards the exit, Mrs Appleby and Tiffany followed, the bell above the door chiming again as Rita headed into the heavy downpour, racing across the small parking lot and reaching her car in no time at all, climbing inside and taking a minute to fill out some more paperwork. As Tiffany came to a standstill beside Mrs Appleby, the pair of them stood in silence and watched on through the huge, frosted, front window of the store, the interior light of the Sedan shining like a beacon in the darkness of the evening before suddenly extinguishing as Rita fired up the engine and pulled away, headed back towards Chicago. Tiffany had a feeling something was up, praying it was paranoia getting the better of her. She just couldn't believe how stupid she'd been back in the diner that afternoon. Deep in thought, watching Rita's tail lights disappear into the storm, the silence was broken as Mrs Appleby finally spoke, her voice low, her tone dry as Tiffany's eyes opened in wide shock, surprised to say the very least.
"Thank god she's gone." Mrs Appleby started. "Fucking spic!"
The house was surprisingly warm, yet predictably decorated as Tiffany crossed through the front door, her legs tired from the steep, seemingly never-ending steps leading up from the land at the back of the store. Flicking the lights on Mrs Appleby turned and gave Tiffany a smile, motioning towards the coat stand, stood proudly beside the front door as Tiffany slammed it shut.
"You can hang your coat there dear." She smiled, rubbing the palms of her hands together as she spoke. "But do me one favour."
"What's that?" Tiffany asked, as she started to remove her leather jacket.
"Don't slam the fucking door." Mrs Appleby smiled, an innocent smile, suddenly spouting the words of a demon. "I only have the one, and I'd rather not have to mess about getting a new one hung."
"Okaaaay." Tiffany found herself saying, the sudden change in Mrs Appleby alarming her slightly.
"Come," Mrs Appleby reached out and grabbed Tiffany's hand. "Let me show you around."
For a woman with deteriorating health Tiffany seemed to suddenly notice a spring appear in Mrs Appleby's step as she shuffled manically through the house showing her each and every room, her slippers moving frantically along the thick carpets, Tiffany almost falling over on a couple of occasions, Mrs Appleby not giving her two seconds to remove her heels before the guided tour began. The lounge, with it's wonderful bay window overlooking the town below, was modest but homely, the flowered wall paper from top to bottom lending a very cosy vibe as the huge fireplace sat beneath an oak mantle piece.
"That's a wonderful vase." Tiffany complimented as she viewed the dark, ceramic vase sat atop the mantle.
"That's not a vase you idiot." Mrs Appleby snapped.
"Oh?" Tiffany involuntarily replied.
"That's my husband. He sits there day after day, never moves, never answers back, nothing." Mrs Appleby waved her arms as she spoke. "He's a damn sight more agreeable since he died, put it that way."
Without thinking, Tiffany laughed, realising at once and covering her mouth with the back of her hand, Mrs Appleby turning to her instantly.
"Don't laugh." She began. "He's fucking dead. What's funny about that?"
"Nothing." Tiffany cleared her throat and removed her hand from her face. "It's just..."
"It's just nothing." Mrs Appleby seemed to scold her. "Stop being so disrespectful. Come on, I'll show you the kitchen. You'll need to know where things are I guess."
Emerging from the lounge and entering the hall once more, Tiffany could hear the rain slamming against the front door, never relenting, constantly battering away as the wind whipped and whistled through the keyhole. Brought back from her day dreaming as Mrs Appleby's voice echoed through her ears.
"Tiffany!" She spat.
"Oh," Tiffany spun. "Sorry. Just that rain doesn't seem to be letting up."
"Never mind the rain dear." Mrs Appleby waved her towards the kitchen door. "Come along. We don't have all night. I could have customers queuing down the street by now you know."
"I doubt it." Tiffany sighed under her breath as she entered the kitchen.
She was quite surprised by the scene that greeted her. The kitchen seemed quite fresh considering the decor of the lounge. Granite worktops adorned the sides as rich, pine doors graced every cupboard on display. Kitchen utensils of every variety hung from hooks as they hovered above a centre station, the exact same worktop and cupboards fitted as the kitchen circled around it. Over in the corner sat a pretty large dining table, four places laid out perfectly as though guests were expected all of a sudden.
"This is huge!" Tiffany gushed as she entered, Mrs Appleby folding her arms across her flat chest and nodding.
"Damn right it's huge." I got this with money left from Gerald's pension. "I do a lot of my own baking for down at the store, so I figured why not go nuts."
"Absolutely." Tiffany spoke as she looked around, suddenly noticing a trunk sitting beside the kitchen door, the padlock keeping it secure. "What's in here, all the valuables you don't want your little reprobates stealing?"
"Not exactly valuable." Mrs Appleby smiled. "Just junk really. More sentimental value than anything. Some of it my husband's. I open it sometimes and just think of what things could be like now, if only things were different."
"I understand. Don't worry." Tiffany's tone seemed more relaxed.
"About?" Mrs Appleby asked.
"Me..." Tiffany seemed ashamed. "I know I've done things. Not made the best decisions in life. But I'm setting things straight. Moving on."
"I know you can do it." Mrs Appleby stroked her arm. "Come on. Let's see your room."
Upstairs seemed to take on a whole different atmosphere as the stale smell hung in the air, the old person vibe emanating from every wall. Carpets were mismatched, some not cut to the right size, some barely covering the floor at all. Tiffany's room however seemed to be clean and warm, which was more than she could ask for. The cell she had only left that morning leaving little to be desired, as Tiffany cast her mind back, startled at how the time had seemed to fly since leaving Logan, her reminder that it was less than twenty four hours since Governor McComb had ordered Amy Kroeger beaten to a pulp suddenly allowing a cloud to hover above her head.
"Listen." Mrs Appleby said as Tiffany dropped her bag to the floor, sinking to the bed and allowing the mattress to ripple beneath her body. "You get yourself sorted. There are clothes in the closet, odds and ends of all the cosmetics left behind are in the dresser, and the bathroom is just down the hall."
"Thank you." Tiffany looked at her with tears in her eyes.
"Now don't start that." Mrs Appleby smiled. "Ain't no room for tears. You'll fucking well set me off."
Tiffany laughed, emotions getting the better of her as she smiled and wiped her eyes.
"How about I make us some tea?" Mrs Appleby asked. "I've some chocolate cake too. Was supposed to be for the store, but it won't hurt if we take a couple slices for ourselves."
"Mrs Appleby." Tiffany called after her as she turned and made her way through the door.
"Yes?" She replied, spinning on the spot.
"To be honest, I'm kinda tired out, what with all the travelling and all."
"I see." Mrs Appleby replied with a smirk.
"Yeah, I think I'd better try and get some rest." Tiffany spoke, hoping not to make the atmosphere awkward.
"I understand entirely." Mrs Appleby replied. "I'm going to close the store. Who knows, maybe I'll get an early night myself."
"Thank you." Tiffany said as the door gently closed behind her.
Pulling the covers back and kicking off her heels, Tiffany laid down and pulled the blankets back over her body, feeling the warmth envelope her body as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off.
Ready for a new start.
A new chapter.
The night passed quickly, Tiffany falling asleep within minutes as the warmth of the blankets, coupled with the comfort of the soft and heavenly bed, gently helped extinguish the memories of Logan Correctional Centre and settle Tiffany into a twelve hour coma, her eyes snapping open as Mrs Appleby's weathered old voice reverberated upstairs and down the hall towards Tiffany's room. Rolling onto her back, Tiffany threw her arms out, stretching as she released the most enormous yawn of her life, the sun light beaming through the window as the curtains gently rippled in the slight summer breeze. The tweeting of birds casually filtered in as Tiffany sat up, the palms of her hands digging into the soft mattress as she blinked her eyes, still groggy from the long sleep and not entirely sure where she was, her bearings returning quickly enough as Mrs Appleby's voice once more rattled throughout the house, louder this time, Tiffany's ignorance obviously not impressing the little, old woman.
"TIFFANY!" She yelled from the bottom of the staircase. "OUT OF BED YOUNG LADY, IT'S TIME TO EARN YOUR KEEP."
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Tiffany stood, suddenly realising the fact that she decided against undressing the previous night, quickly unzipping her black dress and letting it fall to the floor before crossing the bedroom and pulling open the doors of the built in wardrobe, her ample breasts wobbling as she stood back, her body completely naked as she pulled various garments from the darkness before her and laid them across the bed. The selection wasn't as bad as she'd imagined. Not exactly her style, but better than nothing. Picking out a pair of jeans and a slightly faded Guns 'N Roses t-shirt, Tiffany returned to the wardrobe hoping to find a more practical selection of footwear, disappointed as she found there to be none, instead turning and once more slipping her feet into the heels she had hurriedly kicked off the night before.
'Doubt this 'allowance' I'm getting is gonna stretch to an afternoon shoe shopping.' She thought as she pulled her bedroom door open and headed down the hall, reaching the top of the stairs at a canter. Beginning to descend the deceptively steep steps before her, Tiffany held the banister as she walked, not only to help fight gravity as the angle of the decline worked against her, but also to remain upright, her heels digging into the thick carpet as she walked, surprised to suddenly see Mrs Appleby appear at the foot of the stairs. Either she hadn't been to bed, or she'd thrown on the mucky old clothes from the day before, the apron once more hanging from her neck as her small, wiry body lay buried beneath an old t-shirt and a frumpy old skirt.
"About time." Mrs Appleby spat, not even the hint of a smile or a greeting.
"Sorry." Tiffany answered. "Yesterday kind of took it out of me. It's been years since I slept in a bed as comfortable as that."
"Well I hate to break it to ya," Mrs Appleby started. "But if you thought all that travelling you did yesterday was bad, then you haven't seen shit yet."
"Oh?" Concern crept into Tiffany's tone.
"Oh, indeed. I've a hell of a lot of work needs doing down at the store. Two months I've been on my own. I just hope you're not as useless as the last stupid bitch they lumbered me with." Mrs Appleby snapped as she turned and headed towards the kitchen. "But we'll see how you go. First things first, let's get you some breakfast."
Hopping from the bottom step of the staircase, Tiffany lifted her head and followed Mrs Appleby, her eyes working over the walls as she walked, the house seeming to look different as the sunlight streamed in through every door and window it could. Entering the kitchen, Tiffany was happy to see the plate of breakfast waiting on the table, the black coffee resting beside it as She pulled out a chair and casually took a seat, face lighting up as she watched the steam escape the coffee and corkscrew majestically into the cool air of the kitchen. The cooked breakfast looked amazing, the smell even better as Tiffany took in the sight of bacon, eggs over easy, sausages, fried mushrooms, baked beans, everything she could ask for as she lifted her knife and fork and began to tuck in, the tastes and textures igniting an orgasm amongst her taste buds as she chewed and swallowed, reaching for the coffee and taking it as it was, black, no sugar, washing a mouth full of bacon and eggs down as her stomach grumbled in happiness.
"Jesus." Mrs Appleby came and sat opposite, her chair screeching along the floor as she pulled it beneath her. "Didn't they feed you in that place?"
"Not like this." Tiffany smiled as she spoke through a mouthful of food, her manners escaping her momentarily.
"I'm willing to bet your cell mate slept with one eye open." Mrs Appleby's eyes widened. "The way you're attacking that bacon, it's a wonder you didn't resort to fucking cannibalism."
"This is wonderful." Tiffany smiled, speaking between mouthfuls.
"What was it like in there then?" Mrs Appleby asked.
"In Logan?" Tiffany replied.
"Ah, you're from Logan..." Mrs Appleby sat back and cradled her own cup of coffee in her hands. "Rita didn't tell me which one you were from."
"Well for what it is, it's not too bad." Tiffany thought as she spoke, her attempts to be polite and courteous hopefully not going unnoticed.
"Meaning?" Mrs Appleby asked.
"It had good and bad points." Tiffany laughed. "The food was terrible, the guards are a nightmare and the governor is a bit of a bastard."
Mrs Appleby suddenly slammed her fist into the table, Tiffany's plate vibrating under the force as a ripple spread across the coffee sitting in her cup. Shocked, Tiffany sat bolt upright and took a brief pause from chewing.
"You'll watch your language in this house." Her eyes burned into Tiffany as she spoke, a sincere look etched into her wrinkled face.
"I'm sorry..." Tiffany started, Mrs Appleby cutting her off, hand held up as she closed her eyes an nodded her head.
"That's alright." She spoke softly. "There's nothing worse than hearing vulgar language from the lips of such a beautiful young girl. Now me, I can swear like a trooper. But I'm old and I don't have to impress jack shit. You get me?"
Tiffany nodded, slowly starting to chew once more.
"Now I think that while we're on the subject of what you can and can't do, this would probably be as good a time as any to lay down a few ground rules." Mrs Appleby calmly sat back, placing her coffee cup on the table before allowing her arms to overlap across her chest.
"Okay, sure." Tiffany agreed, nodding once more as she ate.
"Rule one," Mrs Appleby's tone carried an air of authority. "No drugs. Now I don't want you to think I'm jumping to conclusions, but I have to say that. The first girl I had stay with me turned my fucking attic into a damned cannabis farm by all accounts. It didn't look too good on me or my business as the drugs squad were hammering down my door in the middle of the day and carrying their precious evidence bags out of here by the truck load."
"Oh my god." Tiffany laughed, thinking better of it and allowing it to evolve into a cough before Mrs Appleby could notice. "You didn't know?"
"How the hell would I? I'm too old to be climbing ladders into a cold, dark attic. The only clue I had was that my electricity meter was spinning like a fucking extractor fan. They say she had more lights up there than Wrigley Field."
"Who's Wrigley Field?" Tiffany asked as she took a slurp of coffee.
"Not 'who', but 'what'..." Mrs Appleby sighed. "It's where the Cubs play there games."
Tiffany's face looked back at Mrs Appleby with a vacant expression.
"Baseball?" Mrs Appleby seemed astonished.
" Oh... I see now." Tiffany smiled.
"Ah forget it." She carried on. "The only reason I know it is because of my Gerald. He was a huge Cubs fan, god rest his soul."
"Okay," Tiffany nodded and smiled. "No drugs. That's fair enough, you've nothing to worry about with that."
"I hope so Tiffany, I certainly hope so." Mrs Appleby shook her head. "I couldn't go through that again. I felt like a damned criminal."
"What's rule two?" Tiffany asked, her breakfast almost finished, disappearing quickly.
"Rule number two..." She started, monitoring Tiffany's expression for any sign of a problem. "No men."
"I wouldn't worry about that either." Tiffany held up her hand.
"I see." Mrs Appleby sighed, nodding slightly. "I get ya. All those years with nothing but women for company. Could happen to anybody. I'm not saying I approve but, so long as it doesn't happen under my roof I couldn't care less."
"I'm sorry?" Tiffany gasped.
"You're a..." She paused, her face creasing as she narrowed her eyes and thought hard. "What's the word? I'm looking from something not too offensive."
"Lesbian?" Tiffany replied quickly.
"I was gonna go with rug muncher. But that's fine too." Mrs Appleby made a 'whatever' gesture and sank back into her seat. "That rule stands for women too. Although I know damn near every person in this community and I don't think we have anybody that would be interested."
"What the hell?" Tiffany seemed shocked.
"Don't get me wrong, you're an attractive girl, but I just don't think you'll pick anybody up around here." Mrs Appleby grabbed her coffee.
"Well if it puts your mind at ease, then I'm happy to report that I'm neither a lesbian or a drug addict." Tiffany answered, her turn to snap.
"Really?" Mrs Appleby seemed surprised. "I wouldn't care if you were you know."
"Believe me, I wouldn't care that you cared." Tiffany dropped the fork, finally finishing her meal. "I'm just not a lesbian."
"So why shouldn't I worry about men?" Mrs Appleby seemed confused. "From past experience with your kind, the first thing you do when you get here is head out looking for the nearest man with a pulse and a hard on."
"Let's just say if something happened naturally then fine." Tiffany answered. "But I'm not making the effort to look for it. Besides which, my last boyfriend was a bit of a dick. He had all the time in the world to call me, but I didn't hear a damn word."
"I hear ya." Mrs Appleby smiled. "So nothing to worry about with men either. That's good."
"Dare I ask if there's a rule number three?" Tiffany asked.
"No trouble." Mrs Appleby calmly replied.
"Meaning what exactly?" Tiffany seemed confused.
"Exactly what I say. No trouble. I don't want any of your friends from inside looking you up and thinking they can just ride on in like hurricane, leaving us to deal with all the shit they have crammed up their ass."
"I wouldn't worry about that." Tiffany laughed, her mind instantly recalling Selena Thomas. "I don't think they'd even be able to."
"Oh you'd be surprised." Mrs Appleby nodded as she spoke, her hands now caressing the coffee in her hands. "Some of these girls get very friendly with their probation officers, if you catch my drift. You'd be surprised at how quickly they can find you. A blow job here, a quick look at a file there, next thing you know, you've got an army of reprobates on the doorstep and all of them thinking they've found a place to hide out."
"Wow." Tiffany was dumbstruck, simply not used to having such conversations with a woman of Mrs Appleby's age.
"Yeah." Mrs Appleby seemed to gaze vacantly, her eyes almost looking through Tiffany, suddenly snapping from her mini trance and offering Tiffany a smile. Tiffany was beginning to notice there was no in between with this woman, she was either in your face with kindness or snapping at your ass with an insult.
"Any more rules?" Tiffany asked, dreading what was to come next.
"I think we're done with the rules dear." Mrs Appleby beamed.
"Okay." Tiffany sighed as Mrs Appleby stood from the table, the chair screeching once more as the legs scraped along the floor. "Mrs Appleby..."
She turned to Tiffany, stopping in her tracks, unsure what to expect.
"Thank you." Tiffany smiled. "All I want to do is put the past behind me and move on. No trouble, no men and definitely no drugs. I think we'll get along and I really appreciate you taking me in."
Without saying a word, Mrs Appleby smiled and leaned in close, the two women's noses almost touching as she began to speak, her voice low.
"I agree with you in some respects my dear. But never forget one thing." She said.
"What's that?" Tiffany asked.
"Sometimes we have to leave things in the past. Because they're the things that can ruin our future." Mrs Appleby whispered.
Hearing those words, Tiffany welled up, tears quickly forming in her eyes as Mrs Appleby stood straight and took Tiffany's empty plate, speaking once more as she addressed Tiffany.
"Now then my dear girl." She smiled. "Let's get to work."
Two hundred kilometres away, back in Chicago, time was of the essence this morning as the lights of the office flickered into life, cubicles and desks littering the vast floor assigned to Chicago Probation Services. Arriving early for work and looking left to right, taking extra care to make sure she was alone, Rita Hernandez crossed the thinly carpeted office space and reached her desk, throwing her handbag to the floor as she pulled out her seat and sat, spinning and opening Tiffany Valentine's file. Running her finger through the details surrounding her arrest for the attempted murder of Evan Carter, she didn't know what it was but there was something bothering her. A feeling. A haunting feeling that hadn't let up all last night, placed in her head less than twenty four hours ago as she sat opposite Tiffany Valentine in the diner, Tiffany startling Rita with her knowledge of something she had no right knowing about. Suddenly she stopped, her finger coming to a halt on a date. The air knocked from her lungs as she realised what she was on to, hoping her memory wasn't playing tricks on her. She was damn well sure this wasn't a coincidence. Reaching out and grabbing the receiver of the phone from her desk, she dialled an internal office number and calmly waited as the phone rang. Rita was just about to hang up as the line crackled, the ringing interrupted as a voice appeared on the other end, causing Rita to breathe a sigh of relief.
"It's me!" She gasped, the voice on the other end laughing slightly and beginning to talk, Rita instantly stopping it dead in its tracks as she continued. "Listen, I don't have time. I shouldn't be here right now, but I need a favour."
Disagreement down the line as the voice became slightly agitated.
"I know, I know. It's early for me too. Listen, you'd really be helping me out!" Rita tried to reason.
The tone turned more agreeable, Rita cradling her head in her hands as she spoke into the receiver.
"I need you to help me with this, starting with calling at archives and pulling the Marsh file." She asked.
The voice now filled with surprise, disbelief.
"Yes, that's right." Rita looked at the clock on the wall, colleagues expected to start pouring through the door any minute.
"Officer Harry Marsh."
The day hadn't been kind to Tiffany as she slumped to a sitting position at the foot of her bed, the blisters from a full day of humping heavy boxes beginning to sting and ache as she ran her fingers gently over the dry skin of her palms. Fair enough, a woman of Mrs Appleby's age and stature couldn't be expected to lift such weights, but still... Tiffany had become enraged at one point, the heckling from the old goat very nearly sending her into meltdown as she insisted Tiffany's posture was all wrong, that she bend from the knees and not the back, that she shouldn't be wearing heels that high anyway. Tiffany had turned and snapped back at Mrs Appleby, complaining that she could quite easily have hired somebody for a couple of hours each week, rather than letting months of deliveries build up, the storeroom buried deep in box after box. She didn't like that, especially the bit where Tiffany had claimed the old woman to be too stringent with the old purse strings to hire somebody, preferring to wait and get her labour done for free by the next mug to roll of the Rita Hernandez conveyor belt. Mrs Appleby had simply snapped back and threatened to press her panic alarm if Tiffany didn't do as she was told.
"Quit being a moaning little bitch. Or I'll have you taken back to that lesbian factory you came from." Mrs Appleby had said referring to Logan, her tone riddled with venomous streaks as she sat behind the counter of the store, monitoring Tiffany from over the top of the cash register.
Tiffany had backed down at that point, knowing the insidious old cow held all the cards, deciding to just focus on the job at hand as she stacked shelf after shelf, mopped the floors, check the rat traps out back. If there was a truly shitty job that needed doing, you can bet Tiffany had been asked to do it that day. True they made their peace and even shared a laugh towards the end of the afternoon as Mrs Appleby brought her out a cup of tea and apologised for interfering, but Tiffany had still felt enraged at the tasks she had been asked to perform. But Mrs Appleby had a point, and it was better than being back inside with the lecherous Governor McComb keeping a constant eye on her every move. In fact Mrs Appleby had said a few things today, one sentence in particular still rattling around Tiffany's head as she sat, worn out, perched on the end of her bed.
'Sometimes we have to leave things in the past.' She had said. 'Because they're the things that can ruin our future.'
Right now Tiffany knew exactly what she meant, and exactly how correct she had been as she reached to the floor and gripped her bag, lifting it and placing it on her knees. Opening the bag and fishing inside with a blistered hand, she finally felt what she was looking for and wrapped her hand around it, withdrawing her arm from the bag and opening her fingers, the ring sitting proudly in the middle of Tiffany's palm. She remembered the night she had found it on the mantle of her shit hole of an apartment, the body of Keith Allen still warm as his blood spilled across her bed. She remembered the news report, Chucky's death flashed to the city of Chicago without a care in the world for those that knew him, those that loved him, or in Tiffany's case, worshipped him. But now, as she sat looking at the ring, all she could focus on was her current predicament as Mrs Appleby's words continued to circle her head, dropping the ring back into the darkness and pulling the bag closed as she stood, crossing the floor and pulling open the heavy wardrobe doors once more. Allowing the bag to fall from her hand, Tiffany swung back with her right foot and volleyed it into the back of the wardrobe, the past suddenly behind her as Tiffany vowed to herself, promised that she would make this work. A better future. A better life. A chance to start again and make something of her life. As far as she was concerned right now, she was on her own.
Charles Lee Ray was dead and buried...