Page 11 of Making His Bones

I’d been brained good. I wondered for awhile what sort of concussion I had. Would I throw up while driving? Wait, concussed people didn’t puke. Oh yes, they did. I nearly did throw up that horrible pasta from the Scarlet Dome, and there was a sudden ringing in my ears. When I stood, my balance was so lousy I wound up slamming into the side of the record store. Holding my hands out as if walking a drunken line for cops, I threaded my way to my car. Would it be safe, or smart, to drive? I could’ve reported that angry security guard to the cops, but I didn’t want to draw any attention to my suspicions.

It was pretty obvious that what Janet said was true. Some kind of kiddie porn op was going on back there. This wasn’t the way to find out.

Pitchfork had always been kind of shady. Although he was pastor of the Beautiful and Immaculate Church, it was rumored he’d done some pretty criminal things. People had said he lured a hooker and her infant to a motel. While the hooker was never seen again, he’d popped up at an airport the next day, handing the baby to his childless brother from out of state. He made women sign blank pieces of paper, only for them to find their Social Security or alimony checks diverted. I vaguely recalled something about his being part of a secret BDSM group. But why did it have to be secret?

I concluded it was OK to drive, but I did whip a handful of Kleenex from a box and wad it to my head to staunch the bleeding. The wound was under the hair so it wouldn’t show. It was a fifteen minute drive back to P and E, with more than a few dicey turns. I’d take it slow.

For some reason, probably the concussion, I found myself parking across from The Missing Ink, where lights were on. The front door was locked so I went around the back alley. It made me leery after what I’d just been through, but there was no security thug at the door.

Knoxie had said they wanted to take down some dark web kiddie porn server. I had just suspected it in the back of The Vinyl Resting Place. What sort of area was this, with kiddie porn right and left? If someone had left DNA on some kid, I could sweep in there and test it. Wait. That didn’t sound right. The concussion was affecting my judgment.

This door was open. A guy with a big hooked nose and a bowl haircut was mousing at a laptop. He turned, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Well, hello there.” You know, in that corny, predatory way you always dismissed easily.

“Hello,” I said vaguely, looking around. “Is Gray here?”

“Yes! He was just filming in the other room. You’re a friend of his?”

“Yes. We’re . . . we’re roommates.”

“Oh! And we’re hacktivists. Welcome. I’m Tobiah. This here is—“

I must’ve jumped a little when this incredibly tall, thin man entered the room. “Hey, bro,” he was saying, but stopped when he saw me. “Oh my gosh. I’m sorry. You weren’t expecting me. I know I look like a ghost. My aunt always said, ‘You look like someone strangled a maiden to death.’”

That was an odd thing to say, but he seemed harmless. He looked at least half Navajo, so maybe something went wrong in the translation. “Nice to meet you. Are you a hacktivist too?”

“Oh, no, not me. I’m just helping because I’ve had experience in this realm. I lived in many foster homes. I learned how to think of my skeleton as my house. That way I never leave home.”

I giggled and shook his hand. “I’m Elektra Spinoza.”

“She’s Gray’s roommate,” called out Tobiah.

“I’m Galileo Taliwood. Why do you have bloody Kleenex stuck to your head?”

“What?” I reached up and took the tissue down. It was saturated. “I was trying to get inside another kiddie porn place in Seeker when I was assaulted by a guard.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” said Galileo. “But you know, hard times are a great teacher. Just like cigarette burns.”

“Ignore him,” said Tobiah, coming to stand by us. “Gray is in the next room making, ah, making a video.”

“Yes, I know. It’s all right. We’re roommates.” I started heading for the door, but Tobiah grabbed my sleeve.

“Well, I would think twice about that. This is a highly sensitive operation we’re pulling off here. We’re trying to take down SpyDie. These Russkies sell their customized malware pieces of shit to anyone who wants to see naked kids, and Gray is making a come-on video to lure just the right amount of people away from SpyDie so we can log their keystrokes and—“

The door opened and I sort of fell against Galileo. He steadied me by holding my shoulders. I definitely would’ve fallen on my ass if he hadn’t of been there.

Gray was a vision. Pecs, abs, triceps—he was the real deal. He must’ve waxed his chest like a dolphin because it was as smooth and tanned as the rest of his torso. When he saw me, his hand went up to feel it, what I imagined was a nervous reaction.

He didn’t need to be nervous. He was a sultry, glamorous, shirtless movie star all the way, and I was in his presence. It must’ve been the concussion, but I allowed my eyes to drop to his package, wrapped up nicely in a pair of flimsy briefs. His penis arced out plumply before being constricted by the fabric. His balls were so big they strained the cotton, leaving a gap where one could slide their finger. Oh my fucking God. What was wrong with me? It must’ve been obvious to everyone in the room what I was looking at. To make up for it, I gestured toward Gray with the bloody tissue. Yes. That would kill any amorous vibration in the room.

“I’m sorry,” I said earnestly. “But I wound up trying to get inside a pornography ring myself over in Seeker. Do you guys know anything about it?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Gray. He must not have known that coming to stand before me was melting my knees. He took the tissue, looked at it, then looked at my temple. “How does a kiddie porn place equal a huge abrasion on your head?”

Tobiah said, “She was assaulted by a guard.”

Galileo said, “Didn’t we have some hits from some places near Seeker?”

“You’re right, we did,” agreed Tobiah, grabbing his rollaway chair again.