“You sure are funny,” she said, trying to brighten the mood. “Where is that little outfit, anyway?”
“The French maid?”
“Yes sir,” she said. “You’ve got the song? ‘Lady Marmalade’?”
“I have the Moulin Rouge soundtrack on cassette,” he said. “I taped it off HBO last year. Between us, I think you outdid Pink and Lil’ Kim. And that Christina Aguilera. They don’t have a thing on sassy little Miss Cassie Lyn.”
“I’m not so little anymore,” she said. “My ass is as big as a steer.”
“Don’t you say that,” he shot back, pounding the wheel. “Don’t you ever say that. Those people making comments online don’t have a soul. You’re as pretty as you’ve always been. Who am I to complain about a few extra pounds? I’m fat and bald. I lost my job selling TVs at Sears. My good years left the station about fifteen years ago. You look great, sweet baby. You look so damn great.”
“Do you love me?”
“Of course I do,” he said. “What do you think this story is all about?”
It was morning by the time they got to Gulf Shores, Daryl nearly nodding off at the wheel as he pulled into the Red Roof Inn parking lot. Cassie Lyn finishing up her third warm beer, eating a package of little donuts from the gas station, powdered sugar scattered across her little chunky legs. Looked to be nothing around them but miniature golf centers and water parks. Across the street, she saw a sign for a place called The Track that offered go-cart racing and an arcade for the kiddos.
“Don’t you even think about running.”
“How many times I got to tell you, Daryl? I’m not scared. Not one damn bit. I’m excited. Excited about where we’re going. Excited about our future together.”
“Not even a little bit scared?” Daryl said. “You do know I’m going to have to tie you to the bed while I get some sleep. And if you try to run or scream, I’ll have to put that duct tape across your pretty little mouth. You’ll have to take in all your air from that pert little nose.”
“I won’t run,” she said. “I won’t scream. But if you tie me up and tape up my mouth, just how am I gonna sing ‘Lady Marmalade’ for you?”
Daryl shifted behind the wheel, like his insides had suddenly seized up, pain somewhere deep in his tight blue jeans. In the early morning light, she noticed his thick glasses were dirty and smudged. White powdered sugar on his mustache as he looked out at the motel lobby, thinking on the best way to play things.
“You’d do that for me?” he said. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you gave me a ride,” she said. “You’re my hero.”
“I’m not gonna drop you off like some kind of hitchhiker, Cassie Lyn. You’re coming back with me to my special home. I spent the last two months getting the basement all nice and ready for you.”
“Like a pet,” she said, smiling, twinkle in her eye. “Right?”
“Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that. You’re not a pet. You’re my special princess. My sweet, sweet baby. My cutie patootie.”
“Go get us the key, Daryl,” Cassie Lyn said, touching his bony knee under the wheel. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Cassie Lyn watched Daryl run across the parking lot toward the office, reaching down and unzipping her backpack. The laptop was charged and ready, the gun strapped to her meaty little thigh. In the early morning dawn, Cassie Lyn let down the passenger window and breathed in that Gulf Coast air, smelling just like summertime. Ah.
Wouldn’t be long now.
The French maid outfit was a little snug, Daryl obviously not aware Cassie Lyn had put on ten more pounds over the holidays. There had been boxes of holiday cookies, Conecuh sausage, and dozens of little candy canes she sucked on in that elf costume. Every day was so damn boring in that little airless trailer, nothing to do but watch television, mostly the Hallmark Channel, and flip through trashy magazines Big Nadine bought for her at the Piggly Wiggly. National Enquirer, US Weekly, Cosmopolitan, and when she really felt generous, those big deluxe magazines that cost fourteen dollars about Jesus or the Civil War. Since Cassie Lyn had dropped out of school at eleven, Big Nadine figured buying her reading material was part of her education.
She stared at herself in the mirror, smudging on the eye shadow and combing through her lashes with mascara. She’d normally have stuck on some falsies, added some blue or pink extensions into her hair. But Daryl, or whatever his name was, would have barely noticed. The man’s hand shaking as he lowered himself into a chair by the window of the Red Roof Inn, Cassie Lyn telling him to be patient, she’d be right back.
Cassie Lyn had set up her MacBook on the dresser, telling Daryl that she needed it to play her signature song. Daryl had offered to play his scratchy tape from his busted-ass boom box, but Cassie Lyn said it’d be more special, more like the show, if she handled it herself. She’d set the screen with a nice view of the room and then left to get ready.
“My God,” he said. “You’ve grown up. You’re all grown up.”
“You don’t like that?”
“No,” Daryl said. “It’s just different.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“You’ve gotten boobies,” he said. “Big fat boobies.”
“Sit on the bed, Daryl, and shut your mouth.”
Daryl adjusted the thick dirty glasses on his face and did as he was told. The carpet was blue, the bedspread was gold and stained. Cassie Lyn reached for the coils of rope and threaded it through the headboard. She could hear the trucks and cars zooming past on the highway, morning light shining through the curtains, the yells and screams from the kids at the go-cart track. She bound his wrists nice and tight like she’d learned from Big Nadine’s third husband, the sailboat captain. Just as Daryl was about to protest, she ripped off a nice thick strip of duct tape and covered his mouth. “Sit tight,” she said.
She removed his dirty glasses, his eyes looking like they were going to pop from his head. Daryl just getting the idea.
She walked over to the dresser, pressing the space bar to illuminate the screen. Cassie Lyn TV was live and streaming. She already had 562 folks watching, more following every second. When she got to two thousand, she’d start taking requests.
Cassie Lyn pressed play on iTunes and “Lady Marmalade” started pumping from the tiny speakers, sounding tinny and hollow as she began to shake, bend over, and smack her butt. Looking between her legs, she could see more and more and more followers coming online. Request after request before even asking.
When she’d realized that BIGDADDY88 was finally coming for her, she’d changed the settings on the Cassie Lyn site, sending money into her own personal account, something she’d had for three years but Big Nadine never knew about.
Cassie Lyn set her foot at the edge of the dresser and unstrapped the gun from her chunky little leg.
Daryl’s eyes got real big as she posed in front of the camera, Daryl being able to see himself as clear as a reflection in the mirror. Cassie Lyn brought the little barrel up to her lips and blew on it as if it were hot. More and more and more requests. More cutesy poses. Shoot him! Kill him! Right in the nuts! People online were like this. So damn bloodthirsty behind the keyboard. They wanted to see some real fun, reality-based action.
Cassie Lyn bent over the keyboard and simply typed: HOW MUCH?
Before even pressing send, TOKYOJOE09 presented an offer even larger than she’d imagined. It was what Cassie Lyn had decided was her “getting with the program” amount.