"Helping Out" (closed)

[Alice2015]

"Helping Out"

Always open to new writers

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OOC Thread (not for general chat)​

Thursday, March 20, 2025:

Viola Dean stepped off the Greyhound bus, walked over to the curb, and -- as the bus pulled away -- took a look up and down the small town's Main Street and the other streets within view that flanked a large, six-block park. The park was filled with large oaks, maples, elms, and a single gigantic walnut tree, all of which had only recently begun exploding in green after a long winter. They were a beautiful sight to see.

But the rest of what Viola saw was simply sad: half of the storefronts were either boarded over or sporting signs indicating that they were for sale or going out of business; the other half showed very little life as there simply weren't very many customers patronizing them. In all, Viola counted two dozen cars parked along the sidewalks up and down almost a dozen blocks, and she assumed that at least a third of those belonged to the people running the remaining businesses as opposed to customers patronizing them.

She'd expected this, of course; Viola had been researching the town of Toland for almost five years, and while her online research had led her to sympathize for Toland and its residents, her first visit to the town made her eyes glaze over at the true understanding of the depths to which the community had fallen.

A decade ago, an East Coast hedge fund had purchased Toland Timber Corporation, the company on which the town of Toland's prosperity had been based for over a hundred and fifty years. TTC, Inc., had begun as a logging company but had -- over the decades to come -- expanded into lumber (obviously), mining, manufacturing, real estate, banking, insurance, and more. At the height of the corporation's importance to the town, half of the working folk living inside of or within twenty miles of Toland were employed by TTC directly; of the remaining locals, the vast majority of them worked for businesses that couldn't survive without TTC's continued operation.

Within two years of buying TTC, the hedge fund had dismantled it: they moved many of its businesses to markets with lower labor costs, some of them overseas or in Mexico; other businesses were closed and their assets and properties sold. Once they'd gotten what they wanted, the hedge fund and their millions in profits disappeared from the area. Some of the businesses that couldn't be relocated and weren't shut down had remained operated for a few years under new ownership, but then the economic collapse occurred, and even they failed or moved onto other marketplaces.

Slowly, Toland began dying. Family after family moved away; businesses that had relied on TTC's workers and those workers' paychecks shut their doors. Once a bustling community of almost 5,000 -- including the rural folk who called it home -- less than 2,000 people now called Toland home, and the vast majority of them now drove more than 50 miles round trip each day to get to their new jobs. To add insult to injury, most of those living in Toland but working elsewhere spent their money -- groceries, gas, clothing, etc. -- at the big box stores in those surrounding towns and cities, not in Toland.

Viola could see the result of that exodus by simply looking up and down Main. There were virtually no customers out and about. Across the street, she caught sight of a pair of retirement age men staring at her from rocking chairs out in front of a barber shop; they watched her with blank expressions. She smiled to them, calling, "Which way is the 'Modern'? The 'Modern Hotel'?"

The two continued to stare blankly at her for a moment, speaking to one another too low in volume for Viola to hear; she couldn't help but wonder if maybe they weren't talking about her appearance -- her figure, her generous bosom, her ever-pert nipples -- which even from across the street were likely something to see.

One of the men eventually pointed down the street with one hand, then lifted a paper sack up before him in offer; even from across the street, Viola could tell that it held a pint-sized bottle of some form of alcoholic drink. She smiled again, responding, "Later maybe. But thanks."

She headed slowly down the street, taking in the town as she went. It had once featured all the businesses you would expect from a small city: banks, groceries, various retail shops, various service providers, and more. Out of sight a few blocks away, were the Toland elementary, middle, and high schools, all three of which were now closed due to the decreased enrollment. Toland's students were now bussed four days a week to Carlson Creek, the nearest, larger town almost 20 miles away.

(Part 2 coming)

 

[Alice2015]

(Part 2)

There was a fire station on one side of Main and a police station directly across from it. Just like the schools, they both had long ago been abandoned; police and fire service were now provided via the County from the city of Magnus, which was 15 miles in the opposite direction from Toland as was Carlson Creek. Viola had read about this online and thought to herself, 15 miles! For fire and rescue and cops? A heart attack or stroke victim would be long dead before EMTs reached them; a burning home or business would be little more than ash by the time the fire truck got here.

After a block and a half, Viola was standing under the old sign for the Modern Hotel. She thought to herself, 'Modern'. Maybe when it opened a century ago. She ascended the steps to the revolving door and found herself putting in a bit more effort than expected to turn it and gain access. The Hotel's interior was just as old-fashioned as the facade and even more unoccupied than the street on which it stood.

The lobby was large, 25 feet deep between Viola and the front desk and at least 50 feet from the end walls to her left and right. Even a cursory look told her that a bar, lounge, and small bandstand had once existed at one end; Viola would later learn that the other end of the lobby had at various times in its history offered a news stand, a shoeshine, a barber, a flower shoppe, and more.

Viola crossed to the front desk, the clicking of her knee-high boot heels echoing through the mostly empty space of the lobby. With no one at the desk or anywhere in sight, she reached out to gently tap the old, brass bell. It didn't ding so much as it clanked; lifting and turning it over, Viola found that the dinger-thingy had been removed.

"I hear it just fine without that," a somewhat annoyed female voice said from somewhere out of sight. A woman Viola would learn was named Maxine Toland stepped out from the office behind the front desk area; she moved slow and carefully, as her 90+ years of age would call for. She stopped short to look her new guest up and down, snorting softly at Viola's appearance. She continued up to the desk, saying, with a knowingly tone, "You're a long way from home, dear."

"What makes you say that?" Viola asked, smiling. The woman's response was a laugh and an even wider smile than before; she didn't have to tell the young woman that she looked like a fish out of water in Toland. "I need a room, please. Do you have any vacancies?"

Again, Maxine laughed. She looked over her shoulder at a board full of hooks, on which hung door keys that looked like originals. Of the 30 hooks for rooms filling two floors, only eight were empty; initially, Viola thought that meant that the Modern had eight occupants, but she'd learn in the days to come that there were actually only two current customers and the other six keys had simply disappeared over the years and -- for a lack of need -- had simply not been replaced.

"I can put you wherever you want," Maxine said, heading for the board. "Second floor, third. If you want the sunrise, I can put you in the back. If you want the sunset, the front. You'll also have a view of Main ... not that there's much to see there but empty store fronts ... and Bob and Kenneth, of course. They're out there from dawn to dusk, 'cept when it's cold. Old men don't like the cold any more than old women do."

Maxine looked back over her shoulder at Viola -- more specifically, at the young woman's bosom and the nipples pressing conspicuously forward through the thin fabric. She smiled and teased, "Of course, you walk up and down Main dressed in that, and they'd be more than happy to sit out there through the snow and ice."

The old comedienne cackled at her own humor, causing Viola to laugh as well. The latter requested, "How about a room with the shortest walk from the elevator, please. And what do I call you?"

Yet again, Maxine laughed; the elevator hadn't been in operation for almost a decade. She took the key for Room 112, saying, "Shortest walk to the stairs and back. And they call me a lot of things 'round here, but you can call me Max." She offered a frail hand out, expanding, "Maxine Toland."

Viola took the old, knobby hand and shook it gently as she asked, "Toland ... as in the name of the town itself?"

"My grandfather's grandfather," the old lady said. "He set down the cornerstone of Main and Toland. They were still dirt roads back then. Not gravel, mind you ... dirt! She set the key down before her guest, saying, "Thirty dollars ... tax is included."

Viola's eyes opened wide in surprise. "Thirty?"

Maxine shrugged, correcting, "Twenty-five?"

The young blonde laughed, pulled a stack of hundred-dollar bills out of her wallet, and pushed them across the counter to the older woman. "I'm going to need the room for a while. Let's start with this, and when you think I've burned that up, ask me for more. Does that work?"

"That works," Maxine said; without hesitation, she snatched the cash with one hand and pulled into a drawer that she opened with the other, slamming it shut as if afraid it might escape. She pointed toward the stairwell, saying, "Top of the stairs, first door on the right."

Viola took the key and headed away but stopped before she reached the stairwell, asking Maxine, "What're you doing for dinner? It'd be nice to sit with someone who could tell me a little something about your fair little town."

For the umpteenth time since they'd met, Maxine laughed. More to herself than to Viola, she asked, "A little something...?" Maxine knew everything about Toland and could keep the young thing busy with interesting stories from now to the end of time. With more volume for her guest's benefit, Maxine said, "I'll have dinner brought over from Roxanne's. That's the dinner cafe down the street. Say, 6 o'clock? I go to bed at eight."

"It's a date," Viola said, smiling and heading up to her room.

 

[Alice2015]

Claudia Owens
18yo, housekeeping ('The Modern')
5'3", 104#; 33B-23-34
Brown hair, long
Brown eyes

Claudia was just entering the Modern's lobby from the side, employee-only entrance as the hotel's newest resident was heading for the stairs and -- not wanting to draw attention -- paused until the woman was well out of sight. When she got to the check-in desk, her boss, Maxine, was counting a stack of hundred-dollar bills, leading Claudia to ask with wide eyes and obvious shock, "What ... the ... hell ... is that?"

The old lady smiled wide, peeled off three of the bills, and set them on the counter in front of her. "It's your back pay, honey."

Claudia simply stared at the money, then -- wanting more information, much more -- asked, "What the hell's going on, Max...? And who was that woman?"

"She's going to be staying with us for a while, Claud," Maxine said, using her pet name she'd been using for the girl for years. "Her name is ... oh, Jesus Mother Mary! I didn't ask for her name. Hello ... dimentia ... are you home?"

The two of them laughed together. They both knew that Maxine didn't suffer from dementia or Alzheimer's or anything else like that. No, Maxine only forgot to do things sometimes when her mind was elsewhere. Seeing a stack of hundreds like that could most definitely send one's mind somewhere else. The old lady -- still counting the bills in her hands -- nodded her head toward the three on the counter, demanding, "Take it, honey. You've earned it."

"No, no way," Claudia said, pushing the money back toward the hotel's proprietor. "You give me a place to live and pay my bill at the cafe and give me quarters for laundry."

Maxine had actually done more than that for the girl over the years, but those were what came to her off the top of her head. Claudia had first come looking for work when she was barely 13 years old, and even though she couldn't really afford another employee at the time, Maxine had given Claud as much work as she could handle while still maintaining good grades at school.

Claudia had worked for Maxine off and on ever since, cleaning rooms, running errands, even painting rooms when they found free or next-to-free paint at the Rummage Store or a garage sale. When Claudia's mother announced that the two of them were moving to Alaska -- "Alaska, really? Are you mad?" -- with her mother's new boyfriend, Claudia had come to Maxine with a desperate plea to move into one of the many available rooms as a resident employee.

"I want to finish high school here," Claudia had said, "And all of my friends are here, too."

In truth, the then-15-year-old had wanted desperately to put distance between herself and her mother -- or more specifically, her mother's boyfriend, who had made an attempt to claim Claudia's virginity the night of her 16th birthday party and had continued to seduce the underaged girl at least once a month. Claudia had gone to her mother about it a handful of times, only to be told that she had to be imagining things.

"Take your money, honey," Maxine said, pushing the bills back toward the teen.

"No way, I'm not taking your money, Max," Claudia repeated, pushing it back.

Maxine responded by opening the drawer again, dropping her portion of the money inside, pulling out the Zippo lighter that her father had carried across Europe during the Second World War, grabbed up one of the hundreds, spun the flint wheel with her thumb, and started moving the bill closer to the burning wick.

"Stop!" Claudia cried out in panic, snatching the bill from the old woman. "What are you doing?"

Maxine only picked up another bill and began to repeat her actions. Claudia snatch that bill and the third one lying between them, folded them together, and -- after a moment and a laugh -- put them into the front pocket of her jeans, saying, "You're a crazy old bat, Max."

"They've been telling me that for 90 years, honey," Maxine agreed. "Come round here and help me back to my chair. Carol Burnette's on."

Claudia got her boss and best friend to where she wanted to be. Maxine's home had for decades been what was once the Night Manager's office and sleeping space, directly beyond the wall that separated it from the front deck and lobby. It was an eclectic collection of collectibles and antiques as new as the 1980s to as old as the 1880s.

"Change my tape for me, will you, honey," Maxine asked as she got comfortable in her oft-reupholstered and once-again-raggedy armchair. "And can you freshen my tea."

Claudia popped the cassette out of the decades old VHS player and put in another one; what Maxine had meant by Carol Burnette's on is that she wanted to again watch one of the TVLand recordings that her friend had duped for her from their cable-equipped television. The teen told the old woman, "You know, with all that money you got today, you could get cable of your own."

"Pfffft!" Maxine responded. "I'm not giving those vultures my money ... when Sally's more than happy to record these for me. Besides, I have better things to spend my money on."

Claudia knew very well what the woman meant. The Modern was behind in all of its bills: electric, natural gas, even the property taxes, which hadn't been paid in almost eight years. Claudia had gone to the County Seat herself to plead on Maxine's behalf twice a year for the past three years, managing to get extensions that kept the doors from being nailed shut.

She went to the kitchen, made the woman a hot cup of tea, found some cookies, and delivered them -- plus a kiss on the cheek -- to her boss before saying, "I'm going to go get some work done."

"Do your homework first, honey?" Maxine chided. "Work can wait. Knowledge can't."

"It's Thursday, Max," Claudia reminded the old lady. "There's no school tomorrow. I'll do my homework tomorrow morning." She fetched a small device and set it on the lamp table near Maxine; it was a cheapo Radio Shack remote activator that would set off the pager the teen wore on her hip. "Ring me if you need me."

She headed off to begin her work. One might not have imagined that there was a lot of work to do in a hotel that currently had only four tenants, only one of whom was actually paying to be here. The other three were Maxine, of course; Claudia, obviously; and a male resident who acted as handyman in exchange for free rent. Honestly, he worked harder to keep the hotel open and running that Claudia did, she thought.

 

[TiredFingers]

Connor Evans
Image
6'0", 195; frickin' ripped (image with shirt open)

Connor was sitting in Roxanne's having lunch when the Greyhound stopped on the other side of Main Street. He found that odd as the bus had ceased service to Toland after the town's disastrous financial collapse years earlier. The daily bus traveling from the coast to the mountains had continued to make its stops in Magnus and Carlson Creek but then used the highway bypass to, yes, bypass Toland without even a wave or a how do you do?

Connor presumed that that meant there was someone on the bus important enough to cause the driver to make the six-mile detour. War Vet returning home on leave? he wondered. There was at least a dozen home grown Toland heroes currently away serving their country. Connor could call them all off by name. He could also name the four men and one woman who'd left town in uniform only to return in flag-draped coffins.

The US Military had become Toland's number one post-high school employer after those east coast corporate rapists destroyed Toland Timber Corporation. Connor had grown up here, too, on a horse ranch just a couple of miles outside of town. He'd gone into the Army at 18. He hadn't wanted to go to college, and the only viable employment opportunities open to him at the time required a two hour-long round-trip commute and paid barely two dollars an hour more than minimum wage.

Diesel smoke blew out of the bus's tailpipe as it accelerated for departure, and Connor watched with interest to see who had gotten off. His eyes widened with surprise at the sight of the woman he'd soon learn was named Viola Dean. She had the body of a supermodel, and the way she carried herself as she chatted to -- or at least at -- Bob and Kenneth as they rocked back and forth in front of the barber shop told Connor that she had confidence and style not often experienced in Toland.

He thought that maybe he should go out and make the young beauty's acquaintance, maybe help her find her destination since obviously she had to be lost if she was wandering the sidewalks of Toland. But just as he was standing, Connor's radio crackled with a call about a potential trespasser. He confirmed the call and his plans to respond, then walked a fifty-dollar bill up to the counter, saying, "Put whatever's left of this on my credit or bill ... whichever it is at the moment. And take fifteen percent of it for yourself before you do all that other math."

Connor was a regular customer here at Roxanne's. He ate lunch here nearly every even numbered day of the month, whether he was working or not. He also ate dinner here most nights and took home a fruit pie every Tuesday and Friday. Connor was entirely capable of cooking for himself and packing a lunch for work, but he patronized the business in an effort to help keep the doors open.

Roxanne's had been opened almost 40 years ago by the woman for whom it was named. She'd long since passed, and her son -- Richard Donner, not the one of Lethal Weapon franchise fame -- had run it ever since. But he had another important responsibility, caring for his elderly, Alzheimer-stricken father. Richard cared for the man through the night and into the mornings, which meant that Roxanne's only opened just a short time before the lunch hour. Richard's sister -- a mornings-only yoga instructor in Carlson Creek -- stepped in to care for the old man while her brother kept the cafe from closing its doors.

Roxanne's was one of only two eating establishments in Toland that had survived the east coast hedge fund pricks, the COVID-19 shutdowns, and the following, unrelated economic collapse. On the odd numbered days, he ate lunch or a late breakfast at the Sunrise Cafe. In contrast to Roxanne's later hours, The Sunrise opened at 5 am and closed after lunch. It was run by a husband-and-wife couple who split their time between that business and a bar that they ran in Magnus. They'd each worked 7 days a week since the shit hit the fan in Toland in an effort to keep their businesses and their homes while also sending their children to college.

Connor handed over his to-go cup and waited for it to be topped off, then headed back to the window to check on the shapely stranger. He caught sight of her again just as she was entering the Modern, an act that made him smile with quiet delight. It meant that she was likely going to be here at least until tomorrow, giving him a chance to incidentally cross her path before she realized that Toland had nothing to offer her, and it was time to get the hell out of Dodge before she got stuck her like so many others had.

 

[Alice2015]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- 6pm:

Claudia Owens was setting up dinner in Maxine's dining room in the old woman's private quarters on the main floor of the Modern hotel when the establishment's newest guest -- resident? -- arrived. The teen stood tall as she saw Viola Dean wander in; the woman was unbelievably beautiful, as sexy as any woman the girl had ever seen. Claudia blushed a fiery red as she realized that she'd not only been ogling Viola's womanly features but had subsequently been caught doing so.

"Hi!" she squeaked out. "I'm--" Claudia went suddenly quiet as she literally forgot what she was going to say. Finally, she blurted out, "Claudia! I'm Claudia. My name is Claudia, Claudia Owens. I work here. I mean, I live here ... too."

"Claud is our resident housekeeper," an older, scratchier voice announced from the opening of the hall that led to the bedroom and bathroom of the private quarters. Maxine walked slowly and carefully out into the view of the two women, and looking to Viola explained, "And she is my very dearest friend." She gestured to the dining table, saying, "Sit, sit! Dinner is already getting cold, and if ya'll are waiting for me to reach the table, it'll need to go back into the oven before it's edible again."

"It came from Roxanne's," Claudia explained. "It's the late cafe here in town. We call it that because it's only open from lunch to dinner. The other cafe, the Sunrise ... it opens before dawn--" Claudia giggled, correcting, "Sunrise, like the name implies. But it closes right after lunch. It's because--"

"You can explain this to our guest later, dear," Maxine cut in. (OOC: It was explained above in Connor's post). She indicated a need for help with how her shawl had caught on her chair. Claudia hurried around to help her into her chair, then returned to sit in her own.

"You'll love it all," Claudia explained, looking between the food and the guest. She said with great confidence, "Mister Donner -- he's the guy who runs Roxanne's now that his mother died -- he's an incredible cook. He cooks dinner for us on even days ... 'cept on Sundays that are even. I go over and pick it up. He's a nice man. You'll like him when you meet him. I cook on the odd days ... and we shake things up on Sundays. You'll see if you're still around on Sunday."

The tabletop was filled almost entirely with dinner ware and the meal's platters, bowls, and whatnot. There was fried chicken, mash potatoes, half a dozen side dishes, a big bowl of dinner rolls, pitchers of milk, water, and juice, and two pies -- pumpkin and boysenberry.

"You paid for this, my dear," Maxine said to Viola, clarifying, "You and your big stack of Benjamins." She looked to the youngest of them, asking, "Did I say that right, Claud...? Benjamins?"

Claudia laughed, answering, "Yes, you said that right, Max."

Despite Maxine's earlier directive for them to hurry to sit at the table, neither of the longer-term residents of the hotel made any movement to begin filling their plates with food. Viola hadn't failed to notice that there were not three, not four, not even five, but six place settings around the big table's outer edge. She asked, "Are we waiting for someone to join us?"

As if they'd heard themselves summoned, two men -- chatting animatedly with each other as they cut through the hotel's lobby -- arrived at the open door that connected Maxine's personal area to the working area of the nearly vacant establishment. Maxine gestured them to enter, saying, "Come, come, we're all starving here waiting for you."

After they'd entered, Maxine looked to the teen to make introductions. Claudia actually stood, thinking it was more proper to do so, beginning, "Oh, yes, so ... this is our Sheriff's Deputy, Connor Evans."

She waited for the man to offer his hand if that was his inkling. She then began, "Deputy Evans, this is our newest guest--"

Claudia went blank, thinking that again she'd forgotten a name in the middle of introductions. But then she suddenly realized an important fact: she didn't know the new guest's name! Thankfully, that guest knew what the issue was and offering out her hand to the Deputy, said, "Viola. Viola Dean. It's nice to meet you, Deputy Evans."

The two concluded their portion of the introductions, at which time Viola offered her hand toward the other man, asking, "And you would be...?"

The handyman introduced himself, and the two of them also shook hands. Suddenly, beyond the open door, rapidly moving footsteps were flying this direction, ending with the squeal of rubber soles on the tile just before a younger man -- he looked to be about Claudia's age -- entered the private area. Claudia chastised, "You're late!"

She waited for his response if there was one, then introduced him to Viola as well. (OOC: I'll let you do that. I forgot to ask you for his name.)

The matriarch of the get-together cut in with a bit of an annoyed tone, "Sit, sit! It's all getting cold waiting for you to put your butts in chairs."

Maxine directed the seating for the others, with the arrangement ending up boy-girl-boy-girl-boy-girl around the table: the eldest female, the youngest male, the youngest female, the handyman, Viola, and the cop. Without hesitation, the five who'd been here for dinner in the past reached for the hand of the person sitting to their left or right. Viola hadn't grown up with people who'd said Grace before meals, yet she immediately took the offered hands.

She bowed her head as the others did and waited to see who would speak the blessing. But there were no words; the five -- and now her as the sixth -- simply remained quiet for the longest moment, their heads bowed, their eyes closed. Peeking up to look at the others, Viola eventually caught Maxine raising her head and opening her eyes, and over the next couple of seconds the rest did the same; there was no Amen or anything, which she found intriguing.

Hands were freed, and Maxine ordered, "Dig in!".

 

[TiredFingers]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- 6pm:

Connor had responded to various calls over the next few hours: the trespasser call that had ended his lunch, an unleashed dog in the garbage cans behind the town's only grocery that turned out to be the biggest racoon Connor had seen in years, and a non-injury, automobile collision that oddly involved the neighbors living on opposite sides of Connor. After that, he performed the job requirement that he hated: delivering foreclosure notices.

His shift ended at 5pm, but he didn't actually sign off for another thirty minutes after that. He used his lights to cross a chunk of the county he served at a safe but faster-than-the-limit speed to get back to Toland in time for his Thursday night dinner at the Modern. No, he wasn't supposed to use his lights like that, but hey, who was going to stop him? A cop? He was the only cop on duty for 50 miles in any direction.

Connor enjoyed his weekly dinner with Maxine and Claudia. The two women were simultaneously such polar opposites from one another and, in other ways, practically the same person. He parked his cruiser out front of the hotel, just past the dedicated no parking/loading/unloading zone that, ironically, almost never got any use.

He spotted the Mark Zane and donned a devilish smirk. The Modern's handyman was washing the windows facing Main. Connor wanted so badly to activate the cruiser's screech siren, but as Mark was currently atop a 30-foot ladder, the Deputy imagined that would be a hard accident to explain to both the Occupational Safety people and his own boss, the Under Sheriff.

Connor waited until the handyman looked over his shoulder, spotted the cruiser, and waved his acknowledgement before he got on the vehicle's PA and, loud enough for most of the neighborhood to hear, said, "You, on the ladder. Put down the squeegee. You're gonna be late to dinner."

Mark Zane swung his squeegee toward the cruiser, splashing a few droplets of soapy water across the window. Now, Connor took the liberty of activating the siren, leading both men to laugh and flip each other off. They met on the sidewalk at street level. As they worked together to bring down the extension ladder and set it along the side of the building, Connor asked Mark, "Am I correct in thinking you all have a new guest?"

Mark looked to Connor with a wide smile, asking, "Have you seen her? "

"From a distance,' Connor answered. "She seemed ... nice."

Mark laughed. "Oh my God, you have no idea."

They chatted more as they put away the handyman's supplies and tools, with Mark explaining that he'd got a too-short look at Viola when she came looking for an extra blanket and pillows. A minute later, they were at the door to Maxine's private space. The hotel owner waved them in, saying, "Come, come, we're all starving here waiting for you."

Mark headed straight for Maxine to kiss her cheek and be kissed back. The two of them had been friends since Mark was 7 years old and, on a dare from friends, had tried to hit a sea gull resting on the edge of the roof but instead put the rock through one of the Modern's third floor windows. His friends had scattered, as little boys do when they've done wrong, but Mark had walked into the hotel to take his punishment.

Since that day, Mark and Maxine had been more than just friends. They were practically family. A few years ago, when he'd fallen on hard times but refused to ask her for help, Maxine had literally dragged him by an earlobe to behind the front desk, pointed to the board of room keys, and demanded he pick one. She hadn't been about to see him living on the street or in his SUV.

Since then, Mark had earned his keep by doing repairs and painting, one room at a time, throughout the three floors of the Modern. He never ran out of things to do, and while Maxine told him he worked too hard, he always countered with, "Someone's gotta do it. Why not me?"

While the handyman was performing his greeting with their hostess, Connor was simply standing there looking between the hotel owner and her newest guest. Mark had been right; Viola was drop dead gorgeous. Maxine instructed Claudia to perform introductions. She hopped up out of her chair, beginning, "Oh, yes, so ... this is our Sheriff's Deputy, Connor Evans. "

Connor stepped forward and offered his hand, doing his utmost to keep his gaze on the orbs in the beauty's face and not on the ones announcing themselves through the thin fabric of her blouse. Claudia continued, "Deputy Evans, this is our newest guest--"

The girl suddenly went blank, as if forgetting the beauty's name. Connor had no idea that even Claudia and Maxine hadn't yet gotten the Modern's newest resident's name. The dinner guest reached out for Connor's hand, filling in, "Viola. Viola Dean. It's nice to meet you, Deputy Evans."

"Connor," he told her. "Please, call me Connor."

Their hands separated, and Viola looked to the handyman, asking, "And you would be...?"

"Mark," he said, moving closer to also offer his hand. After he was holding hers in his, he completed, "Mark Zane. I'm the hotel's handman." He didn't do at all as good a job at not scoping out Viola's tits as the cop had. A sudden squeal of sneaker rubber over tile drew Mark's attention though as a young man hurried through the doorway. He composed himself, smiled, and muttered, "Sorry."

Claudia chastised, "You're late!"

"I know, sorry," Charlie Reed apologized, looking between Claudia and Maxine. "I wasn't done with my route, and I--"

He went quiet at his first view of Viola, his eyes growing large, his mouth literally falling open. He regrouped quickly, though, looking to Claudia with the hopes that she didn't see him gawking. Charlie had been in love with Claudia since they were in first grade, and while he doubted that she would ever feel the same about him, he still had high hopes.

Whether she had noticed or not, the fellow 18-year-old introduced him to the Goddess-down-from-Heaven. He moved tentatively forward as she extended her hand and was about to take it when he realized that his palms were sweaty. He wiped them both against his pants, then apologized, "Sorry, I was on my bike. I'm kinda, well..."

He didn't really want to admit he was perspiring. Looking to their hostess, Charlie asked, "Can I go use the bathroom to clean up before--"

"Sit, sit!" Maxine demanded. "It's all getting cold waiting for you to put your butts in chairs."

The men knew to wait for Maxine to direct them to their seats. She liked to control who sat by whom, and if they wanted a free meal in the future, they knew better than to fight her on it. They ended up seated clockwise: Maxine, Charlie, Claudia, Mark, Viola, and Connor.

Each of the men was feeling a different emotion regarding their placement: Charlie was tickled to be seated directly opposite Viola, giving him a stunning view of her, and yet next to his crush, he was panicked that since he'd been exerting himself and sweating on his bike route, he might stink; Mark was concerned that he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off the bosom of the new resident seated directly to his left, his unavoidable glances sure to be spotted by the other women at the table; and Connor, who had much better control of his wandering gaze, was perfectly happy with watching the other two men to see where their own wandering gazes went.

Each of the five regulars to dinner reached for the hand of the person sitting to their left or right. Connor smiled to Viola knowingly; as she took his hand, he glanced past her to Mark, catching him ogling the woman's prominent nipples and almost laughing aloud.

They each took the moment to do as they wished, be it pray to a God or simply let the others do so or something in between. Connor wasn't religious in any sense, so he spent the moment simply reflecting on his day. He'd handed out three eviction notices and two subpoenas, and the fact that he himself hadn't had to have either of those served on him made him thankful.

Mark had grown up with a Bible-thumping mother, so in his mind he was recited her version of Grace. He quickly gave thanks to each of his family members, some of whom had been forced to leave Toland during the hard years.

For his part, young Charlie's mind was occupied with two thoughts: the first was of how incredible it would be to see a Goddess like Viola Dean naked and writhing about while straddling his lap, while the second thought was that if he couldn't even get up the nerve to ask his life-long crush out on a date, what were the chances that he'd ever see someone like the new hotel guest out of her clothes.

When they raised their heads, Maxine ordered, "Dig in!"

You didn't need to tell this group twice to get to it. Each of them began with whatever item was before them on a platter or in a bowl. A moment later, when it appeared that each of them had what they'd wanted, the huge Lazy Susan on which the dinner was placed moved clockwise a bit, the routine repeated, and so on.

Each of the three men had been working on what they wanted to say to or ask of Viola, but it was Connor who beat the others to it, asking, "So, Viola, where are you from ... and what the hell brought you to this little backwater?"

 

[Alice2015]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- after 6pm:

"So, Viola, where are you from?" Connor asked, continuing, "and what the hell brought you to this little backwater?"

Maxine chastised softly, "Language."

Claudia giggled at the chiding. She understood why the Deputy would ask the question that way: no one came to Toland on purpose anymore. There was nothing to see or do here anymore. Once upon a time, the town had had some of the largest and best attended seasonal celebrations in the State: The Winter Festival, the 4th of July parade and fireworks, the Town of Toland's Birthday; the Harvest Festival; and the Christmas Light Parade drew thousands of people from far and wide, and with those people had come thousands upon thousands of dollars that had kept Toland's businesses in the black even when the economy wasn't the best.

That was, of course, until the Robert Richardson Fund, LLC, bought up and began disassembling the Toland Timber Corporation. The New York City-based hedge fund purchased TTC in early 2003, and by the end of 2005 -- just two and a half years later -- had systematically and very profitably destroyed what had taken TTC 150 years to build.

Viola had expected to face the questions being put to her now, of course, but hadn't wanted to answer them her first night in town. She couldn't tell them the truth, obviously; her answers would be bold faced lies. But how do you explain that your own father was the primary architect of their town's demise? Robert Richardson, CEO of RRF, LLC, was -- is -- Viola's father, and he was almost solely responsible for what had happened to Toland and its residents.

Dean wasn't Viola's real surname, obviously; it had been her maternal grandmother's maiden name. But she couldn't come to Toland with the Richardson name if she was going to accomplish what she was attempting. There was too much at risk, to her and to her plan.

It wasn't the first time she'd faced risk, though. When, at 19 years of age, she first came to realize what her father and his hedge fund had done to Toland and its people, she'd decided then and there to make amends to the town. She and a very smart friend, Edward Winger, formulated a two-part plan. First, she wanted to hurt her father by doing what he'd done to Toland: she was going to take his money. Robert Richardson had personally profited more than $110 million dollars on his murder of Toland, his biggest kill to date. Viola was going to take as much of it as she possibly could.

Second, she was going to make amends to the people of Toland by bringing that money here and putting it back into the local economy. It took her six years of educating herself and stealing corporate secrets from dear old dad before she thought she was ready and informed enough to pull it off.

When she flipped the switch, Viola was shocked to find out that she had access not just to the $110 million for which she was aiming but for more than twice that: $230 million! But stealing daddy's money wasn't going to be enough; Robert Richardson was a smart man, and he would eventually figure out that it was his little darling who'd fucked him.

So, Viola had made it appear as if her father had embezzled the money from his partners. Then, she'd made it appear as though she'd learned about the theft and was going to turn him in. Then, the pièce de résistance was that she faked her own death -- but not just her death, her murder, by none other than dear old dad.

So far, it was working. It had been eight months since Viola's death, and her father was still in prison awaiting trial. He'd tried unsuccessfully on multiple occasions to get bail, but the judge -- believing that Robert had over $200 million dollars stashed away, waiting for him to retrieve it -- wasn't letting him go anywhere unless he was shackled and wearing very unflattering orange.

Viola, meanwhile, had her father's money spread across twenty-two bank accounts in five different countries: the Cayman Islands, Belize, Singapore, China, and ironically Switzerland, which where the judge thought Robert's fortune was hidden. A university friend who was a computer genius -- and to whom she was paying $25,000 a month to remain loyal to her plot -- had devised a way for her to access the money from any FDIC-insured bank in the country without getting caught. She'd used the funds over the past eight months to stay hidden. Now it was time to do with it what it was intended to do: help Toland and its people.

Which brought her to the questions with which she was now being faced: Where are you from? And what the hell brought you to this little backwater?"

"I'm from just about everywhere," she answered, explaining that her father had been a computer systems engineer whose job took him to one major city after another to install hardware and then program the software that ran the machines. "Chicago, LA, Miami, Denver ... I even spent some time in London and Munich."

"How cool!" Claudia said with obvious excitement. "Which was your favorite? Did you ever live in New York City? I've always wanted to see the Big Apple ... or the Nation's Capital, definitely."

"Sorry, no, neither one of those," Viola said. After she lied about New York, she thought that maybe she shouldn't have; there was always the possibility that she might let something slip about her time in Manhattan or about the family homes -- plural -- that they'd had in the Hamptons. But it was too late for that, with Viola only adding, "I'd like to see both of them someday, too."

"And what about the other part, what brought you here?" Claudia asked, repeating Connor's earlier question. With a critical tone, she said what she'd been thinking earlier, "There's nothing here. Nothing!"

"Oh, I don't know," Viola said. "I haven't seen much of Toland yet, obviously ... just Main Street and the Modern, but I've met some really nice people already--" She looked around the table, making contact with each of them one after another before saying, "--and if the town is half as nice as you all are, I think I'll like it here."

"What about work?" Maxine asked between bites of a soft dinner roll smothered by a huge knife full of margarine. "What I mean is, are you looking for work...? Or do you have a suitcase full of more of those hundred-dollar bills you used to pay for your room?"

Viola smiled wide, wondering, Should I have been a little less obvious about that? She lied, "I inherited some money from my grandfather when he died a couple of years ago. I thought maybe I'd look for a business opportun--"

That was all the farther Viola got before the teenage girl cracked up laughing. Maxine shushed her, then looked to Viola and said with a sincere tone, "What Claudia is trying to say--" She glared at the girl, then looked back to Viola. "--is that Toland isn't exactly what you would call a ... thriving community. We've had some hard years recently ... and, likely, we will continue to have hard years for a while."

A conversation opened up around the table about some of those hard times. Viola knew about some of what they were saying in a general sense, but there were some little details spoken of here of which she hadn't heard until now. It made the situation seem even sadder than she'd first imagined.

When the time came to make a response, Viola said, "I appreciate everything you all have said. I'll take it into consideration. Really, I mean that." She looked around the table again, finishing, "Right now, all I really want to do if have a great meal, have some great conversation with new friends, and maybe find a place to have a beer. I assume there's a tavern in town...?"

 

[TiredFingers]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- after 6pm:

Connor listened to Viola's story about where she'd come from and contemplated what he'd find if he ran a background check on her. It was against department policy, of course, but hey, he was a cop, and sometimes cops did that. But when Maxine spoke of a suitcase full of hundred-dollar bills, that really piqued his interest.

But then he flashed back to when he'd first seen her getting off the Greyhound. She'd had no suitcase. The only thing she'd been carrying was a purse over her shoulder. Maxine and her exaggerations, Connor told himself.

"I thought maybe I'd look for a business opportun--" Viola began before being cut off by Claudia's laughter.

Maxine chided the girl with a harsh look, then talked about how Toland wasn't exactly a thriving community.

"I dunno, I'm doing okay," the teenaged Charlie spoke up first. "I mean, I don't make a lot of money delivering groceries and feeding folks' dogs when they're out of town and other stuff like that..."

The kid peeked to his left to see if Claudia was showing any sign of being impressed by his get-up-and-go. No, he wasn't going to become a millionaire doing what he did. But he considered himself an entrepreneur and knew that his bicycle service was only a first step.

"Seriously, though," Mark spoke up for the first time since they all had sat to eat. "I love Toland. And I doubt that I'll ever leave it. It's my home."

Truth was, Mark doubted he'd ever have the ability to leave the town. He was eternally in debt, sending what little scraps of dollar bills he managed to save to family who'd gone out into that unreachable world, only to find out that it wasn't any easier than Toland had been or was now.

"But ... they're right, Viola," Mark continued. "Business opportunities here are few and far between. What remains of our once thriving community are the bare essentials that we have to have to keep the town alive: a small grocery with mostly empty shelves, a couple of cafes that barely stare open eight hours a day, a hardware store that more often than not has to order parts in when you need them because it can't afford to keep inventory on the shelves. That's out situation. That's our life. That's Toland. I mean, we lost the schools because the tax base collapsed. The police fled the scene -- no offense to you, Connor--"

"None taken," the Deputy said. "Happened before I joined the force, so--"

"Even the fire department closed its doors," Mark continued. "City sold the trucks and equipment to Magnus. That's the next city over, 15 miles away. We still have some volunteer firemen, and we kept one of the trucks that Magnus didn't want. I mean, I wouldn't want it either. It's 60 years old. But the best the department can do it put out a small fire or tend to someone's booboos. We aren't qualified for EMT services anymore."

"What we need is an influx of cash to stimulate the economy," Connor said, explaining, "The Mayor's been applying for one state or federal grant after another, but we haven't gotten much. They -- the State, the Feds -- they aren't going to throw good money after bad. After what happened with Richardson--"

Connor stopped short, looking to Maxine for her reaction. He knew that she didn't like discussion about what had killed her town at the dinner table. He cleared his throat, looked back to his plate of food, and looked up to Viola again, finishing, "Anyway ... it's a hard time to begin a business, is all I'm saying."

"I appreciate everything you all have said," Viola told them. "I'll take it into consideration. Really, I mean that."

Their new visitor talked about great meals, great conversation, and new friends, then said she just wanted a place to drink a beer. "I assume there's a tavern in town...?"

All three males at the table looked at each other -- even the one not old enough to go into a tavern -- and said in unison, "The Black Hole."

They laughed. Connor explained, "It's the only bar in town, and honestly, it's not much of one. But yes, it's got beer. Maybe after dinner...?"

 

[Alice2015]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- about 7pm:

Viola listened to Charlie describing his job -- delivering groceries, feeding pets, and such -- and smiled, seeing that he was very proud of what he did. It was never going to make him a millionaire, of course, but it was a starting point that many young people skipped as they went straight to college in the hopes of landing some high paying professional position down the road. It was sad that so many college graduates ended up with jobs where they asked their clients whether they wanted their bags in paper or plastic, their fries supersized, or their coffee with flavors or low-fat milk.

Mark spoke about how the others' concerns about her wanting a business opportunity in Toland might not be viable. "What remains of our once thriving community are the bare essentials..." he told her, talking about the businesses that were either open just a few hours a day or had virtually no inventory on hand because of the cost involved. "That's our situation. That's our life. That's Toland."

The saddest part of Mark's monologue was hearing about the closure of the schools and police and fire stations. Toland was not a place to suffer an emergency, and dozens if not hundreds of studies over decades had shown that bussing students long distances led to higher dropout rates and lower test scores.

Toland needed its school back, its police back, its fire service back; it needed commerce; it needed so much which it had lost since her father and his fund came in and raped the town almost to death. Viola was here to do what she could, but even she didn't think she could accomplish all this.

But the others were giving her good starting points, and that made her smile knowingly. When she asked about a place to get a drink, all three men named The Black Hole. Connor explained, "It's the only bar in town, and honestly, it's not much of one. But yes, it's got beer. Maybe after dinner...?"

"After dinner," Viola confirmed.

They went back to eating and talking about happier things. Claudia talked about the Winter Festival coming up weekend after next. "Normally, we have snow on the ground this time of the year, but Mother Nature, well, she can be a b-i-t-c-h sometimes." The teen looked to Maxine as she spelled out the profane word, knowing that even that was against dinner table rules. She blushed, giggled, and murmured, "Sorry."

"The festival will still go on," Maxine said, ignoring the girl's violation. Looking to Viola, she said, "We'll just have to do it without snow."

Viola once again smiled, responding, "Maybe we'll get lucky, and it'll snow." What she was really thinking was I bet if I look hard enough, I can find someone with a snow machine. She imagined the effect on the people of Toland to wake up the morning of the festival and find the world around them coated in whiteness. Well, maybe downtown, at least.

They finished eating, devoured the two pies from Roxanne's, and did the dishes; Viola volunteered to chip in, but Maxine told her, "You're a guest. Go get your beer with the guys."

Viola looked to Connor and Mark, shrugged, and asked, "Are we walking or driving ... 'cause ... I don't have a car."

 

[TiredFingers]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- about 8pm:

The Black Hole tavern

A few minutes later they were walking into The Black Hole. It had once been considered a tavern, not just a bar as it was viewed today. The difference, for those who frequented such establishments, was that as a tavern, it had provided a wide variety of beers and hard liquors from behind the counter, as well as a full menu of hot and cold foods and snacks from the kitchen.

After the collapse, though, the kitchen was closed except on Friday and Saturday nights, and after COVID-19 shuttered The Black Hole for almost a year, it finally reopened serving a bare minimum of beer brands, low-end hard liquor, and nothing from the kitchen at all. It's conversion from tavern to bar was complete.

"Set'em up, Little John," Mark called, using the owner's nickname. Vance Littleton stood 6'4" and weighed 280 pounds. He'd played college football and got recruited to the New England Patriots, only to blow out his knee the second game of his rookie season. He'd had family in Toland at the time, and one thing or another had landed him here. He'd intended on turning The Black Hole into a sports bar, but the collapse had prevented that.

Vance didn't wait to hear what the trio wanted to drink and instead filled three tall glasses from the tap and, as Mark had ordered, set them up. He eyeballed Viola conspicuously, smiling, then chuckling as he joked, "A cop, a handyman, and a Goddess walk into a bar..."

He waited for reactions, then laughed and, referring to Mark and Connor, said, "I don't have a punchline for that joke, but I do know it ends with you realizing that even those two combined together aren't enough man for a woman like you."

He laughed again, took her beer back, and said invitingly, "You don't want that swill. What can I make you, Love. Name it. If I don't have it, I'll hop in my car and run to Carlson Creek before the liquor store closes."

 

[TiredFingers]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- about 7pm:

The Modern Hotel:

Charlie wasn't lucky enough to escape helping with the dishes as Viola had been. But then, he hadn't tried to get out of them, either. Anything that would keep him close to Claudia, even for just a few minutes, was fine with him. As was usual, it was hard for him to keep his eyes off her as they moved about the kitchen and dining room. When they finished, Maxine told him to get the petty cash can off the shelf.

"No, you fed me, Max," he said. "You don't have to pay me, too."

But she insisted, and after he retrieved the old coffee can, she pulled out a ten and handed it to him. Charlie pocketed it, which he knew was a sign that it was time for him to get home. He was in no hurry, though, and seeing Maxine heading for her chair and her after-dinner television recordings of Carol Burnette or Andy Griffith or The Price is Right, Charlie turned his attention to the last remaining female in the room.

He engaged Claudia in some small talk about her day, then asked if she knew anything more about the strange new guest. Then, taking a huge risk, Charlie asked, "Hey, since tomorrow's Friday..."

Students from Toland didn't have school on Fridays, of course. They were bussed to Carlson Creek Mondays to Thursdays, even though the Creekers did have school on Fridays, too. Charlie continued hesitantly, "Anyway, Missus Cramer ... you know, at the Rummage House ... she's holding a class tomorrow at two ... on Gelli Art (OOC: YouTube link). You heard of it?"

He waited for her response, asking, "You know, if you wanted to go ... I'm going ... and maybe ... you know ... we could go together...?" It was far more a question than a statement.

Only now did Charlie realize that his cock was as hard as a rock. Panicking, he stepped up to the kitchen's center island in a desperate attempt to hide his groin.

 

[Alice2015]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- about 8pm:

The Black Hole tavern

Viola hadn't expected much of The Black Hole, and she wasn't disappointed. She'd seen her share of dive bars during her college years, but even they had shined compared to this disaster. It was dark, even for a bar; vast, empty spaces indicated now-missing features one would expect in a tavern. She wondered if perhaps they'd been sold off to cover the monthly expenses: rent, taxes, payroll, stock replenishment.

"Set'em up, Little John," the handyman called.

Viola wasn't surprised by the way the man's eyes took a walk up and down her form as she neared the bar. Viola smiled back, showing no sign of being offended by the ogle; she like the attention, and she was pretty certain that it was all part of his bartender personality. As he drew the draft beers, he joked "A cop, a handyman, and a Goddess walk into a bar..."

Viola laughed, not even needing to hear a punchline. Ironically, he continued, "I don't have a punchline for that joke, but I do know it ends with you realizing that even those two combined together aren't enough man for a woman like you."

"Well, that's because even combined together," she joked back, "the two of them combined don't weigh as much ol' #52." Viola saw the reaction in the man's face and explained, "I know who you are. Vance Littleton. New England ... number 52. I saw you play against the Jets."

She was about to give more specifics, then remembered that she'd told Claudia that she'd never lived in New York City. Saying she'd seen one NFL game in New Jersey didn't specifically mean that Viola had lived in or even near the Big Apple, but it could still lead to questions that Viola didn't want asked. Telling Vance that her father had had a Skybox at MetLife Stadium...? Well, that was just asking for trouble.

It was no coincidence, though, that Viola had so easily and so quickly recognized the former NFL lineman in his new hometown a thousand miles-plus from where he'd once played. During her years-long investigation into Toland, she'd discovered that Vance had bought The Black Hole. This had been one of the first places she'd wanted to see and -- if things worked out -- begin spreading about her ill-gotten money.

She told Vance a lie about an uncle who'd taken her and her mother -- his sister -- to a game one Sunday, and how she'd only remembered him and his number because it had been close to her mother's 52nd birthday. He seemed to accept the untruth as legitimate, being happy enough with her to take away what he called swill and make her a Manhattan instead.

As Vance made her drink, Viola took a better look around. She, Mark, and Connor were the only patrons, and she wondered whether or not she should be surprised at that. It was, of course, 8 o'clock on a Thursday night. But The Black Hole had once been what they called a Family Friendly tavern, meaning that minors had been allowed in during an evening dinner range of hours so long as they were with an adult and didn't sneak drinks from their folks' beers.

"No big screen television?" she asked, adding, "What did you guys do for Superbowl Sunday?"

They responded to her question, after which Viola prompted more conversation to inconspicuously gather information about Toland for her own uses. After an hour or so of conversation, laughter, and flirting, Viola told the others, "I hate to do this, but I have to go. I didn't sleep on the bus, which means its been, what, maybe 20 hours since I last closed my eyes."

She knew that the men would want to walk her safely back to the Modern, but she waved off any offers, telling them, "Finish your beers. It's just a block. I'll be fine."

Outside, instead of turning right toward the hotel, she turned left toward the corner of Main and Toland. She was at the center of the Town of Toland, with the Town Square -- now a decrepit city park -- across the street in front of her. She scanned the buildings, finding absolutely no activity at all. Any other small town might have a restaurant or a lounge or at least a late hours convenience store. Toland had nothing.

She took a slow walk around the park, and when she got back to where she'd begun, Viola noticed two things: first, the police cruiser was now gone, indicating Connor's departure; and second, Mark himself was crossing the street to head into the Modern through the side entrance. Thinking that the handyman might go straight to his own room and not go looking to ensure that she herself had made it home, Viola took the opportunity to make her first pitch to a Town of Toland businessman.

She returned to the bar's door, found it locked, knocked, waited for Vance's arrival, and asked, "Can we talk? And for crying out loud, can you make me something hot. Decaf' coffee or maybe an herbal tea. It's freezing out here."

After Vance returned with her steaming drink, Viola jumped right in with her proposal: "I want to invest in The Black Hole."

They spent a good thirty minutes talking about what the business had once been to the community and what Viola wanted to see it be again. She told him, "I think Toland is ready for a revival. The only thing it needs is a kick start, and I want to be the one who starts that kick start.

"There's only one stipulation," she told him with a firm tone. "No one knows that I'm behind this. No one! Not Connor, not Mark, not Maxine. This had to be entirely secret ... just between the two of us."

She knew that Vance would want to know what she was to get out of this. She told him, "I provide all the money, name your amount ... anything you need, I provide it. In return, you give me 49% of The Black Hole. Silent partner! Like I said, I don't want anyone knowing that I'm behind this. No one! Otherwise, every nut in town with a need will be coming to me with open hands, asking me to invest in their crazy idea.

"Once the Black Hole is profitable again..." she went on, "...when you are seeing enough money coming in to allow you to begin kicking some money back my way, you buy my shares. We'll come up with a fair price."

She smiled to Vance, finished her drink, and asked, "So ... whaddaya think?"

 

[Alice2015]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- about 7pm:

The Modern Hotel:

Claudia was conflicted about what she saw in Charlie's face when she looked to him during both dinner and the cleanup afterward. She'd known him since they were just kids, and she'd always known that he liked her and hoped to be more than just a friend to her. But she'd never developed those kinds of feelings for him, and she doubted that she ever would. Of course, that wasn't just something she thought about Charlie; Claudia doubted that she would ever fall in love with anyone, ever.

Her life had been a roller coaster, and not one of those fun Disney rides from which you exited and then hurried to line up for again. Her issues had begun the day she'd been born, and they continued to this very day. She'd been born to a single teen mom who'd never identified Claudia's father. Her mother had had a series of short-lasting relationships over Claudia's life, more often than not with physically, mentally, and/or sexually abusive men.

They'd been persistently poverty-stricken, sometimes living without electricity or water for weeks at a time and twice living out of their 1970s-era station wagon. Her mother hadn't been above selling her body for cash, though -- thankfully -- always for food and housing and never for alcohol or drugs.

Claudia had spent many Spring Breaks picking strawberries or collecting wild mushrooms and just as many Summer Sessions doing anything she could find that would bring a little money into the family's coffers. When she was 13 and desperate after her mother was injured and couldn't work, she'd gone to the Modern hotel for work, and while Maxine hadn't had the money to pay the girl, she'd hired the girl she would nickname Claud for a few hours each week, so long as she maintained at least a B minimum in school. The teen has worked for Maxine off and on ever since, cleaning rooms, running errands, even painting rooms when they could find cheap or free paint.

If things hadn't already been bad enough for her, Claudia then entered puberty, developed her womanly curves, and overnight began attracting the unwanted and seriously inappropriate attention of her mother's grimy boyfriends. The night of her 16th birthday, her mother's then-live-in-lover came to Claudia's bedroom late at night to claim her virginity -- what he'd called his gift to her. Claudia had fought him off -- she actually broke his nose with a tennis racquet -- and fled to the Modern, from which Maxine told her she would never have to leave again.

A couple of weeks passed, and her mother -- who'd claimed that the wannabe child molester was no longer in their life -- announced to Claudia that the three of them were moving to Alaska. Maxine had already gotten the Law involved, which led to Claudia's mother willingly and eagerly signing emancipation papers for her daughter and guardianship papers for Maxine.

What did all of this have to do Claudia's doubts about whether or not she'd ever fall in love with a man, let alone with her friend Charlie? Well, she'd grown up in the house of a woman with a fucked up moral compass, and the woman who eventually took over her care had last experienced feelings of love and lust more than forty years earlier when the only man she'd ever loved had died young of a stroke. Claudia had had no one to really teach her about love and lust, and she certainly wasn't getting any good advice from the girls with whom she went to school, almost all of whom had lost their virginity by age 16.

That isn't to say that Claudia hadn't had boyfriends or sexual encounters of her own. She'd begun kissing boys at 13 while still in 8th grade, with some of those boys already having graduated from high school. By the time she was 14 she'd reached 2nd base a handful of times, and by the time she was 15, she'd rounded 2nd and come sliding hard into 3rd. And even though she'd had tongues on and fingers inside her hoo-ha, by the end of last summer, the now-18-year-old Claudia had somehow managed to maintain her virginity. She'd become serious enough about her future in the most recent months to know that she was in no hurry to go all the way with anyone, even though she could easily name at least a dozen men and boys both who were very eager to get there with her as soon as they could.

Claudia had a good suspicion that Charlie was amongst those names, but at the same time, she knew that he was one of the shyest -- and most polite -- males to ever show her any attention at all. So, she was sort of surprised when he ventured outside of his comfort zone and asked her if she wanted to go with him to The Rummage House tomorrow to attend an art class.

"You know, if you wanted to go ... I'm going..." he stumbled through the invite, "...and maybe ... you know ... we could go together...?"

For a moment, Claudia simply stared at Charlie in shock. This might have looked like just a friendly afternoon social outing to most people, but she could see in the boy's nervous -- terrified? -- expressions and body language that in his eyes, this was intended to be a date.

"I dunno," she said finally. "I might have to work tomorrow."

Claudia didn't have to work tomorrow; Maxine had always given her any time off that she'd needed to do anything she wanted to do, particularly if it was related to school or to friends. But Claudia was unsure of whether she really wanted to take this step with Charlie.

First, she'd decided to put dating on hold until after she graduated high school in late May and possibly even until she was in college and establishing herself in that new, adult life. And second ... well ... this was Charlie Reed. C'mon, really? He might have been 18 years old, just like Claudia herself, but he was ... well ... he was such a ... a kid! Claudia had matured young -- she'd had to, in an effort to simply maintain her sanity -- so the idea of being intimate with Charlie ... Reed ... well, that just didn't strike her as something that was in the cards.

But after a bit, something led Claudia to say, "But I could meet you there, maybe. How's that work?"

Maxine called just about then for Claudia's help with finding an old Twilight Zone VHS tape that had apparently fallen down behind the bookcase. Claudia told Charlie goodnight, made it pretty clear that it was time for him to skedaddle, and then went to help her boss and best friend.

 

[TiredFingers]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- almost 9pm:

The Modern Hotel:

Charlie didn't know any of the specifics about Claudia's hard life, of course. Details such as having nearly been raped by a loved one's lover or having lived in the back seat of a car weren't things that most kids shared with other kids. During their early childhood friendship, he'd known that she didn't have a father and that her mother tended to date a lot, and there had been those gaps where Claudia had seemed to disappear at times for a few days or even a few weeks.

But Charlie had been a typical little boy, and things like that had tended to fly over his head without my thought. And the good news had always been that Claudia had returned to once again be his friend. That was what had mattered. If she was to ever share this information with him, his eyes and brain would probably open up and show him the truth. But until that day, his thinking just wouldn't allow him to go there.

Regarding all those boyfriends, Charlie had heard the rumors -- boys like to talk about their conquests, though usually it was all bullshit. And on occasion, he'd seen Claudia being flirty or even intimate with a boy. It had hurt him sometimes, thinking some other guy was getting what he wanted from the beauty. But then Charlie would see her without male companionship for days or weeks and think with great hope that maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance.

He never took that chance, though -- not until now.

"I dunno," she finally said to his invitation to go to The Rummage House with him. "I might have to work tomorrow."

"Oh. Sure. I understand," his response came out with obvious disappointment. He feigned a smile. "Okay, well, maybe another time."

Then she said, "But I could meet you there, maybe. How's that work?"

Charlie's fake smile became a real and wide one. He grew an inch with hope -- well, an inch in his height before her and six more in his length, which he was again hiding behind the kitchen island. "Great. Fantastic. See you there!"

Maxine called for Claudia's attention, and Charlie knew when it was his time to hit the road. He turned his back to his crush before moving out from the visual protection of the kitchen feature, knowing that there was no way to hide the massive bulge in the front of his pants. He hurried for his coat, hurried for his bike, and hurried for his home. He was cold and again sensing his own scent, so it was straight past his parents with a simple Hi! Going to bed!

After shooting up the stairs two steps at a time, Charlie stripped, hopped into the shower, lathered up his once-again-stiff cock, and beat off to fantasies of him and Claudia just as he had dozens if not hundreds of times over his handful -- no pun intended -- of years of self-pleasuring.

 

[TiredFingers]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- after 8pm:

The Black Hole tavern

Vance was surprised but not at all disappointed to see the unbelievably sexy Viola Dean at his door for the second time in the evening. He hadn't been that happy with her walking back to the Modern Hotel alone earlier, but she'd been insistent. And it wasn't like she was walking some dark and dangerous New York or Detroit or Chicago neighborhood alone.

The one surprising thing about Toland over the years since its fall had been that despite the increasing poverty and despair, the crime rate hadn't spiked as it did in many cities and towns sliding toward the gutter. Toland did had a bit of a drug problem -- meth, heroin, and Oxy at times -- but that had existed even before the collapse of the local economy and, thankfully, had remained fairly steady without the expected rash of robberies and other acts of violence that typically came with the drug plight.

"If you're looking for something without caffeine," Vance said as he led Viola in side, grabbed his coat off the hook near the door, and tossed it around her shoulders, "you're gonna have to settle for some bad decaf' coffee. Not much of a call for herbal tea round these parts."

He went to the kitchen to heat up some water. Despite the cooking and food prep space getting very little use for the bar's customers, it was still used by Vance for his own personal uses. Most people who knew Little John knew that he'd long been living in one of the four apartments in the two-story structure's second floor. The apartments had been ordered vacated a couple of years ago after a small kitchen fire and a subsequent County inspection revealed lead paint and electrical issues.

But Vance had needed a place to live, and a big man like himself wasn't going to survive in the Airstream trailer house that he bought from a customer who'd been hard up for cash. So, he'd gutted the entire second floor, ripped out all the ancient wiring, replaced only what he needed to be relatively comfortable, and set up house there again. Since then, the bar's kitchen had been his kitchen, so at least that portion of the establishment was still operational.

He came out with a cup of hot decaf, set it before Viola, and then listened to her proposal with a combination of awe, doubt, hope, and fascination. Vance couldn't help but look around the sad looking space and remember what it had looked like before he began selling off most of what had entertained the patrons over his first years as owner.

"There was a shuffleboard table down that wall," he said, pointing, and then pointing to the other wall, "And four electronic dart boards there, so that they were accessible to the kids, too, during the family hours. We used to have kids in here almost every night, up 'til 8 o'clock. It was great, actually. It's a happy sort of noise, you know, them playing at the pinball machines and this ancient Asteroids game that some collector had sold to the previous owner.

"Over there were two pool tables," Vance said, pointing to a big empty, "And that wall had booths and that corner a bandstand. It wasn't very big, but then the local musicians were usually soloists or maybe duets ... duos." He laughed, recalling better times, as he said, "We did have this one high school band that used to play up until ten the first and third Friday nights for a while. I think some of the kids are still around, but ... well, people move on."

Vance told her more details of what The Black Hole could look like, and when a lull came in the conversation, Viola said, "There's only one stipulation."

He cocked his head her way, knowing that the What's this gonna cost me part of the talk was coming. Ironically, that hadn't arrive yet, and instead Viola told him, "No one knows that I'm behind this. No one!"

She talked about her desire to keep this totally on the down low. Vance pointed out, "People are going to wonder where I got the cash, though. Particularly our friendly neighborhood Sheriff Deputy. Connor knows that..." He paused a moment, not wanting to admit this but feeling that if they were going to do this, Viola had a right to know. "I borrowed some money from some not-so-savory people. Ten grand. I paid back half, but with the Vig it's still at ten ... maybe even more."

"I provide all the money, name your amount," Viola went on as if his debt to a loan shark meant nothing to her. Vance probably wouldn't have been surprised if he'd know the identity of her father and how the man had personally been the cause of Toland's demise. She continued, "...anything you need, I provide it."

"Okay, I know I'm going to be sorry asking this," Vance said reluctantly, "but what is it you want in return. I know you're not doing this for free."

He was expecting to hear a deal that could only come directly from the Devil, but instead Viola told him that she wanted 49% of The Black Hole, a silent partnership, and a repayment of the investment only if the bar -- the tavern! -- returned to profitability.

Vance stared in disbelief at Viola for the longest moment, then burst out in laughter. "You're kidding, right? I keep control, you give me whatever I want, and I only pay you back if we make money...?"

It was too good to be true, obviously, and yet as Vance questioned her sanity and then added some more details about what it would take to make this work, Viola's only response was, "So ... whaddaya think?"
Vance came out from behind the counter and walked slowly about the mostly open and empty place for a long minute or more. He looked back, saying, "Right up front, I'd need money to pay off some debts. Overdue taxes, overdue electric bill ... overdue everything."

Viola had no problems with that, leading Vance to return to imagining the business's possibilities. "And ... we'd need advertising. Just local stuff, nothing far and wide. Let the people of Toland, Magnus, Carlson Creek ... maybe some of the nearby cities know what was happening here."

He swept his extended hands as he talked about having a singing competition, a darts tourney, maybe Friday night Texas Hold'em. "People love to win stuff, compete. It'd take a few months to get the State Lottery back in, but we could have scratch off tickets ... and video poker over there."

Viola was all for Vance's ideas, making him smile with joy. He turned and started back to her, saying with a more serious tone and expression, "Please, tell me that this is all on the up'n'up ... not some con or Mob thing, 'cause you know, if it is--" He struck a mean looking yet still somewhat comical tough man stance and told her, "--I could take you up in my arms and crush you like a grape. I might not be NFL any longer, but I still workout every day."

Again, Viola promised that there wasn't anything hokey about this. Vance moved to her with his arms out, saying, "Okay, I promise, I'm not crushing you like a grape, but I am taking you into my arms and hugging the fuck out of you."

He leaned down, wrapped his arms around Viola, easily lifted her off her feet, and swung her around in circles as he laughed in great joy. When he finally put her down, they chatted a few minutes more before he demanded, "I'm walking you back to the Modern, and you can't talk you way out of it by acting all tough and stuff."

They headed across the street and down the block with Vance's mouth silent but his brain screaming all sort of joyous things as they went. At the main entrance, he waited until Viola was up a couple of steps before he said with great happiness, "Thank you, Viola Dean. You won't be sorry about this. I promise."

They parted ways, with Viola finally heading back into her new residence and Vance turning back toward his old one. He stopped at the entrance, paused, then took out his keys and locked it up, as he hadn't for the walk down the block. He looked about himself for any signs of prying eyes, but just as Viola had seen earlier in the evening, there wasn't a soul out on the streets this time of a weeknight.

Looking up to a second-floor window of an apartment kitty corner from The Black Hole, Vance found a candle burning peacefully in a window. He knew what that meant, pulled out what little cash he had in his pocket, determined that it was enough for what he needed, and made his way as quietly as a man his size could across the street, up the old rickety stairs, and into the room of the Town of Toland's only professional sex worker.

 

[Alice2015]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- after 10pm:

The Modern Hotel

"Thank you, Viola Dean," Vance said from the sidewalk at the bottom of the hotel's front entrance. She turned to hear him say, "You won't be sorry about this. I promise."

"I believe you ... Little John," she responded, smiling. She looked him up down -- her first conspicuous up and down survey of his form -- and told him, "You were quite a man back in the day, Number 52 ... and men like that don't simply stop being who they were. So, I'm going to tell you the same thing you just told me: Thank you, Vance ... and you won't be sorry about this either. I promise."

They traded their final farewells, after which Viola ascended the remaining steps and pushed through the revolving door; the squeal of poorly greased bearings sent a shrill sound through the enclosure of the door, as well as through the lobby. The sound drew the attention of Claudia, who emerged from Maxine's quarters beyond the front desk. The teen smiled, saying, "You're back."

"I'm back," Viola said with joy in her voice. As she headed toward the stairs, she looked toward the open living quarter door and asked, "And Maxine?"

"She's asleep in her chair," Claudia said. "She likes it rather than her bed. I put her to sleep every night."

Viola slowed and turned the girl's direction. "That must be hard on you. Every night?"

Claudia shrugged. "She's been very good to me."

"So I sensed," Viola told her. When they were facing one another over the front desk, she told the younger woman, "If ever you need a night off, I could cover for you."

"You're a guest," Claudia reminded the older woman, chuckling. "You shouldn't have to do that."

"It's not 'have to do that'," Viola corrected, "It's "want to do that'. I'd be more than happy to help with Maxine if it meant you could have a night to do something fun..." She smiled wide, adding, "...or someone fun." She saw the confusion in the girl's expression and clarified, "What about your friend ... Charlie?"

Claudia's eyes grew large and her mouth fell open before she gasped, saying with shock, "Charlie! No, no! We're not like that. We're just friends."

This time, it was Viola who laughed. "Are you sure? I mean, I saw the way he looked at you ... often! He likes you."

Claudia's fair skinned face exploded in a fiery blush. She couldn't maintain her gaze at the other woman and looked off at nothing in particular, then looked back to say, "We're just friends. We grew up together as kids. I don't think that..."

When Claudia's statement faded away, Viola interjected, "I do think. I do think that he likes you ... I do think that you like him--" Claudia's eyes swelled again, making Viola laugh again and accuse, "Don't deny it! You like him." Again, the teen was forced to look away. Viola ended, "And I do think that if you took a night to go out with him ... maybe get some coffee or see a movie or just go for a walk--"

"First...!" Claudia interrupted. "First, there's no place to get coffee at night In Toland, except right her in Maxine's kitchen. Second, there's defintely no place in Toland for the two of us to see a movie together at night ... except, again, here in the Modern ... or at Charlie's house, and I'm not doing that." She paused, trying to remember all three of the possibilities the older woman had suggested. "Oh! And I'm definitely not going for a walk with him. That ... well, that just leads to rumors. And besides, it's March and cold and..."

Claudia couldn't help but look at Viola's impressive bosom and its always publicly displayed, swollen nipples. She wanted to say And I don't want Charlie staring at my tits all night 'cause my nipples get huge, but it felt so wrong to say something like that to a woman she'd only just met today and barely knew.

Ironically -- and somewhat horrifically -- it was Viola who said, "Your nipples swell, and your shirt won't hide'em." Again, Claudia's embarrassment became as obvious as a nuclear explosion on the next block. Viola laughed loud, telling her with a definite air of confidence, "Boys like that, Claudia. And I'll tell you a secret: they'll do just about anything for you when your headlights are on high beam."

"Oh my god!" Claudia murmured. Looking to Viola again, she giggled and said, "You aren't shy, are you?" Viola smiled and shook her head but didn't answer verbally. The teen shook her head, contemplated what they'd talked about a long moment, then informed Viola, "We're going to a thing tomorrow at noon ... and art thing ... at The Rummage House."

"Good," Viola said simple enough. "I'm heading for bed. You get to bed, too. It's late." She didn't know the girl's schedule or how she functioned, so saying this felt almost like being Claudia's mom. "Night."

She returned to her room, stripped, donned a thick pair of pajamas Maxine had given her earlier in the day, and went to the bathroom to perform her end-of-day tasks. Half an hour later, Viola was in bed, and -- after reflecting happily on her day -- was asleep in no time at all.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- after 10:00 p.m.

Day's Inn, Highway 123, Magnus

Had Randy Jackson (photo not available) been in a hurry to reach Toland, he might have been in on the introductions taking place in the Modern that evening. Not only was he not in a big hurry, but he certainly didn’t want to arrive in a new town as the Sun was starting to set. Instead, he opted to get a room for the night in Magnus. That evening, and the next morning, would be spent taking care of a few things that probably couldn’t be accomplished in Toland. His truck was about due for an oil change, so why put it off? He would look into getting a hunting and fishing license, and put a couple hundred in the local bank to open an account. If Toland worked out for him, then that’s where his Navy retirement pay could be deposited. If not, it wasn’t that difficult to access his account at the bank “back home” – a place he had no desire to move back to.

Too many memories – of the not very pleasant variety.

In his cursory tour of the town, Randy was happy to see the relatively small city of Magnus had an Anytime Fitness – not that he was likely to make a 30 mile round trip for the privilege of jogging a couple of miles on a treadmill, but it was still nice to have the option. He’d hang on to his membership – it had served him well over the years, if only for a place to take a shower then sit and chill in front of a television for an hour or so whenever he was on the road. Plus, Ensign Greene had warned him that internet and phone service might be a bit “sketchy” in Toland, and despite his disdain for modern technology, it was difficult to get by without internet access occasionally. Anytime Fitness provided that, too.

The “Ensign Greene” in question was a young officer Randy had met a couple of years earlier, when he had mentioned looking for a place to stay “for a while” after retirement. Perhaps not to settle permanently, but someplace that wouldn’t cost him an arm and a leg as he adjusted to civilian life and decided where to go from there. After all, a man who retires at 37 still has much of his life ahead of him.

The young ensign, it turned out, was from Magnus, though his previous four years were spent at VMI, getting his bachelor’s degree and his Navy commission. He assured the “old” (at 36) Chief that he could probably find a house to live in for free in Toland, if utilities weren’t that important to him. Randy decided he’d prefer having electric lights and running water.

So, with everything he owned in the back of his 20 year old Ford F-150 (or attached to the bumper) Randy had been ceremoniously piped ashore and set sail for a place he’d never been, but which had occupied his imagination for almost a whole year. He would arrive the following day after driving the last 15 miles of his journey.

 

[CutiePie1997]

Thursday, March 20, 2025
8 o'clock:

10 North apartments
10 North Main Street

Samantha "Sammi" Rogers
Images: profile shot, full body shot
26 years old
5'8", 36B-25-36, 119 pounds
Brown hair, brown eyes

(OOC: It is my understanding that Viola is dressed as indicated in the image below. It's 8 o'clock at night in March, so I'm guessing that our more imaginative people can picture her walking in the dark? Same for Sammi's pics, too?)


Sammi had napped from midday until after dark, which this time of the year was only a handful of hours. Thursdays were more or less a day off for her. None of her regular clients saw her this night. She'd planned on driving to Carlson Creek where the Third Thursday Texas Hold'em Tourney was always sure to provide her with at least one John for the night.

Nothing made men hornier than either getting knocked out of a poker game early or reaching all the way to the end and cashing out. The first group of men (the losers) were often angry and just wanted to get their rocks off quickly. The second group (the winners) often wanted something a little more girlfriend experience-like. They took longer to please and depart from, but they also paid more for her services.

Tonight, though, she simply wasn't in the mood for the drive to and from the Creek. There was also the possibility that she'd be dealing with icy roads on the way home. More often than not, the 'winners' group of men got a hotel or motel room that Sammi could stay the night in.

But tomorrow, she had to be in Toland to care for her gramma. Carol, the Alzheimer's caretaker who watched over Gma GiGi any other Friday, had won tickets for a weekend getaway to a riverboat casino/hotel near New Orleans. Sammi's first thought when hearing about this was to offer Carol a thousand dollars for the ticket package. Sammi could easily rake in $10,000-$20,000 riding and sucking cocks over the three days of the package. But Carol needed the time away and even refused Sammi's better offer of three grand.

Now awake with no hope of getting back to bed anytime soon, Sammi spent an hour stretching, lifting light weights, and finally burning up a few hundred calories on her elliptical. Glistening from a layer of sweat that covered her from head to toes, she soaked under a hot shower until it began to become a cold shower. She reminded herself to speak again to the manager of the apartment building about the hot water heater having only one of two working coils.

Emerging from the steamy bathroom to dry and don a thick, comfy robe, Sammi flicked off the studio apartments overhead lights and moved to the window that looked down upon the center of town. What she saw below her had gone by a number of names, depending upon who you were and how long you'd lived here. She just knew it as Toland Park.

With most of the studio apartment's lights off, Sammi could see everything below her window. She expected it to be almost nothing, like normal. After all, it was 8 o'clock at night in Toland! But instead, she saw a woman walking the sidewalk along the park. Even from her second-floor apartment with a street and two sidewalks between them, Sammi could see that the woman was a beauty.

She assumed it was the stranger who'd come in on the Greyhound earlier today. Yes, Sammi had heard about Viola Dean. The rumor mill in Toland was the only thing in town that hadn't suffered from the remaining collapse of the town. Sammi watched the woman stroll along, away from the park to the corner on which sat The Black Hole. She was surprised to see the woman ushered in by Vance Littleton.

Little John was one of Sammi's twice- or thrice-a-month regulars. She thought to herself, "Interesting". She continued to watch the door for a few minutes, to see if the woman came right back out. Maybe she was getting a to-go order? Sammi knew that Vance closed the bar by this time most nights.

When Viola Dean didn't come back out after ten minutes or so, Sammi retreated into the apartment. She made tea and poured granola into a container of yogurt as she contemplated what might be happening on the block kitty-corner to her.

Vance Littleton wasn't the type to fuck a woman the same day he'd met her. At least, that was Sammi's understanding of him. Hell, they'd had coffee, dinner, and drinks on three separate days before he'd paid her to suck and sit on his cock. And he'd known she was a prostitute from even before their first meeting.

But who knew what this new woman's story was. For all Sammi knew, she, too, was a professional. She certainly had the body for it, wow.

Sammi dropped onto the cushions in the bay window that looked down upon Toland and Main, as well as on the front entrance to The Black Hole. Still sitting in the near darkness, she sipped at her second hot tea, this one non-caffeinated herbal, and considered whether or not this new woman was anyone to worry about. Then, the front door of The Black Hole opened, and the woman exited, followed by Vance.

Sammi sat up, watching her client walk the woman toward her hotel room, and worry began to finally creep its way into Sammi's mind. Toland's only resident prostitute couldn't afford competition. Little John's contribution to Sammi's income paid her rent and part of her cell phone bill each month. Losing him to another whore would be devastating.

She stood and walked to her kitchen window, which looked down on the sidewalk in front of the Modern's main entrance. She lost sight of both of them and was sure that Vance had followed the woman inside. But really, would he have done that? He'd certainly be seen, wouldn't he? There was the hotel's owner, Maxine. There was Maxine's teenaged sidekick, Claudia. Then there was the handy man, Mark. They all lived there. There might even be other paying guests, though Sammi had seen no signs of that and the rumor mill had spoken nothing of it either.

Sammi was about to return to the bay window seat when her heart leapt in joy at seeing Vance return into view. He stopped on the sidewalk for a moment, turning back to presumably speak to the woman. But it was certain that he wasn't going inside, Sammi told herself.

Without hesitation, she hurried back to a second window that faced Main, flicked a lighter, and lit a candle. Backing deeper into the apartment to stay out of view, she watched the street below. To her joy, Vance returned to his business, paused, looked up her way, reached into his pocket for cash, then turned her way.

The 26-year-old literally giggled with joy, turning to hurry to her bathroom to prepare for her expected visitor. By the time Sammi heard a light knock on the door, she'd put on a light coat of makeup, brushed her hair out again, and donned thigh-high stockings, a pushup bra, a tight-fitting blouse with a deeply plunging jewel neck cut, and a skirt that was short enough to hint at her stocking's lacy tops when she moved in a certain fashion. She contemplated foregoing panties but remembered how much Little John enjoyed peeling them off her. She stepped into a little thong and pulled it up into place before heading for the door.

"Why, hello there, Little John," Sammi said as she opened the door. She looked him up and down, taking in and releasing a deep breath that lifted and emphasized her bosom, then licked her lips as she backed up to give him room to enter. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

Once he was inside, Sammi went to the window and blew out the candle. She'd made the mistake of not doing so on a couple of occasions in her early days of professional whoring. The embarrassment that had followed had taught her not to make that mistake any more.

 

[Alice2015]

Thursday, March 20, 2025 -- after 10:00 p.m.

Day's Inn, Highway 123, Magnus

(OOC: This isn't a primary character. She's just here to introduce an opportunity.)

"I'm telling you, it's a great house, with good, solid bones and 22 acres of beautiful property surrounding it," Vera Lee was speaking animatedly into her Bluetooth earpiece's microphone as she hurried through the lobby of the Day's Inn. "There's woods, grasslands, a pond with a dock ... what...? ... how big a boat...? 42 FOOT?? It's a pond, not Lake Michigan."

She gestured to the front desk clerk, who'd been alerted to Vera's unscheduled departure and had already processed her bill. The real estate agent went on, "You can put it in at Red Bluff... Yeah, it's a reservoir ... with monthly and annual dock rentals. I dunno, twenty, twenty-five miles maybe."

As she opened her wallet to retrieve her credit card, Vera accidently spilled out several of her business cards. She paid up, collected her bill, and headed for the motel's exit, still chatting with the person in her ear. Vera hadn't planned on leaving the Day's Inn at 10pm, obviously -- no one but hookers checked in at dark and left an hour or two later -- but the client she was to meet tomorrow at 7am had canceled just forty minutes ago.

Vera hated motel beds -- or, more accurately, she loved her own bed in her home in Carlson Creek. It was only 35 minutes from here to home, so she would eat the wasted cost of the room she wouldn't use. Hell, it was a tax write off, so...

At the exit, Vera looked back and caught sight of a man she hadn't noticed earlier as he looked her way. He wasn't particularly a beautiful man, but he most certainly wasn't ugly either; even from across the lobby with him fully dressed, Vera could see that he took good care of himself, better than most did at his age of, what, 36...? 40...? 44?

Along with not currently knowing the age of this man -- or even his name, Randy Jackson -- Vera didn't know something that would make her very happy in the future: he'd picked up one of her realty business cards, and sometime in the future -- be it days, weeks, or months -- he was going to be looking to buy a property ... and Vera was going to pull down one big, fat, juicy commission.

Sometimes, things just work out, don't they?

 

[TiredFingers]

Thursday, March 20, 2025
8 o'clock:

10 North apartments
10 North Main Street

(OOC: I reduced Vance Littleton's size by 2 inches in height and 20 pounds in weight to fit the image I picked to represent him, fyi. And I'm "god moding" Sammi with CutiePie's permission.)

"Why, hello there, Little John," Sammi said as she opened the door.

Just as she looked the former NFL player's massive form up and down, Vance Littleton ogled the petite prostitute's shape up and down as well. He smiled and literally growled, telling her, "My god, you make me happy to be a man."

She licked her lips as she backed up to give him room to enter. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

Vance could have explained that spending time with Viola Dean tonight had made him too horny to wait for their regularly scheduled night together next Monday. That didn't seem too bright a thing to do, though, so instead he simply remained silent as he closed and locked the door behind him, easily and swiftly picked Sammi up from her feet, and deposited her atop the kitchen table just a couple of steps away.

Sammie would know precisely what was coming. This wasn't anything new for them. Vance sat in the chair before her, stripped off his shirt to reveal his still-incredible body, reached his arms between her parted thighs, and stripped her thong from under her skirt and down her long, luscious legs.

He went immediately to work eating her out as his powerful hands grasped her ass cheeks to pull her crotch into his face. Vance had always loved this, eating out women in general but Sammi in particular. Sometimes, like tonight, he fantasized about other women. This particular night, Vance imagined Viola Dean atop the bar in The Black Hole, knees parted, screaming out as he licked and sucked and fingered her to one orgasm after another.

Sammi cried out in ecstasy, though Vance was never entirely certain whether she was faking or being truthful to his efforts and skill. After she'd recovered, she would move them to her bed and perform the equivalent service to his cock. He was too long and thick for her to deepthroat him, but then Vance had never been a fan of it anyway. She did just fine taking in half his length while her nimble fingers pleasured the remaining inches of him.

She would mount him for his second orgasm before they curled up in each other's arms and fell asleep. Vance paid Sammi extra for letting him spend the night, of course. It was an additional service that he was more than happy to pay for. The feel of a beautiful woman's body next to him when he awoke reminded him of better times, back when he was in the NFL and back before the community he called home had descended into the hell it was today.

Before they drifted off in each other's arms, Vance told her the same, simple, direct thing he did each night they slept together: "Thank you, Sammi. You were wonderful."

He'd never really known what else to say to her after she'd treated him to such incredible pleasure. He loved her in his own way, and if she was ever to give up this line of work, he would want Sammi to agree to be his wife. But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon if ever. Vance could barely support himself, let alone a wife. And even though she never talked about it with him, Sammi had her own financial commitments, which was why she did what she did, he presumed.

 

[CutiePie1997]

Friday, March 21, 2025
4 o'clock in the morning:

10 North apartments
10 North Main Street

Sammi awoke to the gentle buzzing of her cell phone's daily 4am alarm. She had to get to Gma GiGi's Assisted Living Home to take over for one of the two Caregivers who split the duty of taking care of Sammi's great-gramma through the nighttime hours.

While the alarm wasn't welcomed, the delightful feel, sound, warmth, and even smell of Vance "Little John" Littleton lying next to Sammi was. She loved waking up with him and sometimes she'd considered inviting him over with no charge just to curl up to him before she had to leave for the day. She pulled the bedding down enough to give his incredible body a long, longing ogle. Even now, years after he'd left the NFL due to injury, he still had the body of a Greek God. She'd heard that he still spent hours in the gym or lifting weights in a backroom down at his bar.

Vance suspected that on occasion, Sammi faked her orgasms with him to boost his ego. She had, but only a handful of times. Vance knew how to please a woman, and it rarely seemed necessary for her to fake it. It wasn't just that he was strong and enduring. Vance simply knew how to please a woman, be it with his skilled tongue, huge yet nimble fingers, or massively long and thick cock, the man knew how to make a woman scream in ecstasy.

She slipped gently out of bed, showered, dressed, and headed back out into the studio's one big room. Quietly, Sammi took her payment from the pocket of Vance's pants. She often felt a bit guilty for doing so because of what he could do to her and, last night, had. But she had bills to pay.

She didn't have to tell him where she was going so early. Vance knew about Gma GiGi and how Sammi had been taking care of the woman since her late teens. Most people would be surprised to learn that a common whore had been caring for a relative like Sammi was when the rest of the family simply had no interest in doing so.

Of course, Sammi's descent into prostitution hadn't been for Gma GiGi. Sammi's first sexual act for money had occurred almost two years before Gma GiGi's first stroke, when Sammi had been barely into her Sweet Sixteens. Her boyfriend at the time had abandoned her at the Highway 22 Truck Stop in Magnus because she wouldn't give him a blowjob. She'd had neither money nor a cell phone, and she was supposed to be at a girlfriend's house studying Algebra.

A trucker offered to get her home, for the very blowjob that she'd denied her boyfriend. She'd hesitated, but after he'd also offered her $50, she did as he wanted. After that, Samantha Rogers became a whore. It wasn't as thought she'd enjoyed it. She hadn't! But she was good at it, and it made her more money than she could make in any other way in or around Toland.

That first trucker had recommended her to others. Those truckers had recommended her to their non-trucking friends. Sammi began developing a client base and weekly Regulars. She bought a nice car with which she traveled to more distant cities to ply her trade. She developed relationships with motel managers, hotel concierges, and others.

During her junior year in high school, Sammi's family decided to move away from Toland. Her parents suggested that she not go with them. They were embarrassed by their daughter's chosen profession and were willing to relocate to put distance between them. Sammi didn't fight them over it, instead moving in with her great-grandmother. Gma GiGi knew what Sammi did but supported her little darling, saying, I don't give a rat's ass what you do with your pussy, and no one else should either! It's yours. You go girl!

Shortly after that, Gma GiGi's suffered her first, then her second strokes. Then, unrelated, she began suffering Alzheimer's. The two of them decided to go it alone without Sammi's family. Sammi put Gma GiGi in an Assisted Living Facility, got her own apartment, and kept working. Most mornings before dawn, she went to the Facility to relieve the Caregiver and sit with Gma GiGi until the Staff took over for the rest of the day.

Sammi conducted her business quietly, garnering little public attention. She'd never been arrested. Deputy Connor Evans knew what she did but had neither hassled her over it nor demanded services in return for giving her leeway. Others knew, too. some of them were clients while others were simply friends.

There was the man lying in her bed now, obviously. And there was Maxine Toland. Maxine was a friend of Gma GiGi's. Sammi had expected a lecture on her wicked ways when Maxine learned. Instead, the old lady had on multiple occasions invited Sammi down to the Modern to entertain a guest who needed some female companionship.

Most of the rest of the town had no idea what Sammi did, and those who did let her be. She'd made it a point not to be a homewrecker. She didn't flaunt her business with skimpy clothes or ass-wiggling out on the street corners of Toland. Truthfully, Sammi was a well-liked member of the Toland community who volunteered with several organizations throughout the year.

The one thing she did do to advertise her services was light a candle in the window of her apartment. It indicated her availability. Her male Regulars (and even her lone female one) saw it as Sammi's bat signal. They were supposed to text her first for a date, though, as opposed to simply knocking on the door, like Vance had done last night.

She gave the man one last look, then quietly headed out to begin her day.

 

[Alice2015]

Viola Dean and Claudia Owens (with Vance Littleton at the end)

The Modern Hotel
50 South Main Street

Friday, March 21, 2025
4:30 am:

(OOC: It might be more detail about which most RP readers care, but we established addresses for our buildings, just for that touch of reality. Toland Avenue, which runs west-east, separates the town between north and south; Main Street, which runs north-south, separates it into west and east. Just having fun here.)

(Another OOC comment: I only have 1 image to represent Viola, so you have to imagine her in whatever I say she's wearing at the time. If I had a model or actress's name, I could get multiple pictures to represent different settings and situations. Again, probably more detail that necessary, but that's my OCD sneaking its way through my fingers to the keyboard.)

Viola didn't sleep soundly or for long periods in unfamiliar beds and was up and around not much after four o'clock. Maxine had been sweet enough to provide her with some comfortable pajamas and slippers the night before, and now dressed in them and her black leather coat -- yes, it looked silly -- she decided to take a walk.

She started with a stroll up and down the hall outside her 2nd floor motel room. The Modern sat on the east side of north-south running Main Street; the hotel's main halls ran the same direction. At the south end of the hall, Viola looked out upon a vacant lot still covered by some of the debris of a structure that had burned to the ground. She doubted that it had anything to do with the lack of a fire station, though, as the debris looked to be possibly as much as a decade old.

It was so strange for her to see a downtown space like that sitting there unused after so long. You would never have seen that in Manhattan, where Viola had lived up until her faked death 8 months ago. One developer or another would have snatched it up for a midsized condo building or a mixed commercial-hotel.

At the north end of the hall, looking out across West Toland Street, Viola looked out just in time to see Sammi Rogers crossing under a streetlamp toward a car parked at the curb. She couldn't know that just the night before, that same woman had been looking down from her own apartment in the 10 North building as she'd been taking a stroll around Town Square or Town Park or whatever you wanted to call it.

Viola couldn't know it now, but she and Sammi would come to do business together ... and maybe much more.

The newest guest to the Town of Toland next ventured down the stairwell to the Modern Hotel's lobby. She walked to the center of the massive and mostly empty space; there, Viola slowly turned all the way around, just imagining what it had looked like back in it and the town's hay days. Over the days, weeks, and months to come, Maxine would drag out literally dozens of photo albums with thousands -- tens of thousands -- of photos that covered the area's history going back to the first French fur trappers and the First Peoples with whom they traded.

Viola headed back upstairs, showered, dressed again in the only set of clothes she owned, slipped the leather jacket back on, and headed out to the street; the sun was up by the time she hit the streets. She walked across the street and north to the entrance of The Black Hole, which was dark as she'd expected to find. She'd learned last night that the bar didn't open at all on Mondays, though, she hoped to meet Vance here again to talk more about her -- their -- plan for the place.

Again, she headed north to the park. It was traditionally, as well as literally, the center of the Town of Toland. It was surrounded by Main Street to the east, Toland Avenue to the south, West First to the west (duh), and Rollins Avenue to the north; Viola would learn later that the Rollins Family had been nearly as important to the establishment of Toland as the Tolands had been.

Walking out into the center of the park, Viola did as she had in the Modern, turning slowly around to take in the view. She counted at least 25 separate store fronts from where she stood, some actually facing the park and some on the next blocks over from it. Of those, 25, only 12 looked to still be in business, and of those another 5 had some version of a Going Out Of Business signs in the windows. It was simply sad.

"Fuck you, Dad," Viola murmured to herself.

"What's that?" a female voice asked from a few yards away. Viola spun, surprised, to find Claudia Owens walking her direction. The teen chuckled, saying, "Sorry Oh, so sorry!" She hurried over closer, explaining, "Sorry, I was just going to get donuts, and I saw you and I thought I'd..."

Viola waved off the girl's apology, saying, "Don't worry about it. No harm."

Claudia took a moment to look about but didn't see anything that she thought would interest Toland's newest resident. Just thinking that word, resident, let her to ask, "How long are you staying here. In town, I mean." She looked Viola up and down, giggled, then pointed out, "I mean, you didn't even bring clothes with you, did you? I didn't see a suitcase."

Viola joined the laughter, lying, "I lost my bag. Greyhound's looking for it, but I'm not holding my breath." She looked about again, then asked, "Is there a clothing store where I can--"

Claudia laughed again. "In Toland? No. Not a chance. There's The Rummage House, but, well, that's like going to a Goodwill that's already been having a stock reduction sale for a month."

"There's no place to but something to wear in town?" Viola asked. She tried to remember her research on Toland. She thought she'd seen a clothing store at one point.

As if reading Viola's mind, Claudia said, "Well, we used to have Marla's. It was the last place where you could get women's fashions. But she closed the doors ... what, 'bout three months ago."

"Does she still have all of her stock?" Viola asked. The teen shrugged. Viola smiled, saying, "Show me. And then I'll take you to those donuts you were talking about."

After getting donuts and taking them back to The Modern for Maxine and Mark, the two women would spend the entire morning just walking about downtown Toland, talking about the state of business affairs. Viola had been working on a plan for the town for years, but actually being here, actually seeing what it needed, was seriously opening her eyes.

Just about noon, as Claudia was preparing to head to the Rummage House to meet Charlie, Viola looked up to see Vance walking down the street; she didn't notice whether he'd been coming from any one particular place, such as Toland's lone whore's apartment. She flagged him down, saying with a smile, "I have something for you."

They went into his bar, and as Vance made them hot drinks, Viola opened her purse and plopped three bundles of brand new hundred-dollar bills onto the counter. She smiled, telling him, "Get to work, Little John."

 

[TiredFingers]

Mark Zane, with mention of Viola Dean, Claudia Owens, and Maxine Toland

The Modern Hotel
50 South Main Street

Friday, March 21, 2025
5:00 am:

(OOC: I like the detail. But then, I'm OCD, too.)

Mark was awake at 4:50, dressed by 4:55, and down in the lobby by 5. It was just the way he rolled. It was so easy being a guy sometimes. Normally, he'd be the only one awake in the Modern at that hour. This morning, though, he caught sight of Viola just as she was pushing her way through the squealing revolving door.

"Gotta fix that today," he reminded himself.

He went to the Tool Room to find a bottle of lube and a scouring pad for the rust. He was working on the door when Claudia appeared. Smiling, he asked, "Donuts?"

Mark knew what got the girl up early in the mornings. They chatted a moment before she left. It wasn't long before the revolving door was spinning more quickly, more easily, and more silently. He knelt before it and felt the draft blowing under it. He needed to install new rubber seals. But he'd priced them, finding out they were $90 each. Each! And it took 4 on top, 4 on bottom, and six connecting pieces around the outside. He could get a kit with all, but even it was $690. Maxine didn't have it, and Mark certainly wasn't going to pay for them. He was thankful for the free room and board, but his paying jobs out and about Toland barely covered his other expenses.

Maxine, another early riser, appeared. He smiled to and greeted her, telling her, "Donuts are on the way. I'll go put the coffee on."

 

[TiredFingers]

Vance Littleton, with Viola Dean

The Black Hole
25 South Main Street

Friday, March 21, 2025 -- 11:00am

(OOC: I like the addresses. It creates a picture. I made one up for The Black Hole, too.)

Vance hadn't awoken until after 9 o'clock, Sammi having very much exhausted him the night before. She might have thought that he had endless energy, but there were times when she could seriously wear him out. He found himself alone in Sammi's bed and her nowhere in sight. That wasn't uncommon for the nights that he stayed over. The young thing took care of her ailing great-grandmother, which Vance found absolutely incredible. She had a heart of gold, which was one of the things that made him want her as more than just his occasional fuck'n'suck partner. If only the world would allow such a thing.

He showered, dressed, ate, and then sat around catching up emails, text messages, and web page postings that he followed regarding topics from the NFL to the State's Alcohol Control Board to funny cat videos. He loved funny cat videos.

He didn't head out until almost 11 o'clock. He did so as quietly as a 290-pound, 6'4" man could down old, rickety wooden stairs. It wasn't as if he was ashamed for being one of Sammi's many clients. He simply didn't want to attract any more attention to what she did here than her cries and his moans already did on the nights he visited her.

He used the building's eastside exit and a wandering route that got him back to The Black Hole without ever being seen coming from 10 North. Again, it wasn't about shame; it was about modesty.

He reached the door of his bar, only to see Viola heading his way. They exchanged greetings before she said, "I have something for you."

"Come inside, and I'll make us some coffee," he told her as he unlocked. When he came back from the kitchen, his eyes widened at the sight of bundles of brand new hundred-dollar bills. He gave Viola her steaming mug, picked up a bundle, and examined it. Each of them held a hundred bills. A hundred hundred-dollar bills times three bundles. He murmured with awe, "Thirty grand? Just like that?"

Vance didn't know that Viola had arrived in town with nothing but a purse and a single bag over her shoulder. If he had, he probably would have wondered just what else or just how much more was inside that bag. They talked more about their plans, pulling out a notepad and scribbling bountiful notes.

Just for the fun of it, Vance removed the currency straps and started laying out stacks of hundreds for each of the things they would spend them on. Some had as few as a single or two bills, while others had a sizeable stack instead. He used Post-Its to ID the stacks, nearly running out of them before he ran out of Benjamins.

They continued until the last of the bills was put in the last of the short stacks, with Vance saying, "That's for the jukebox." He laughed, saying about the dozens of piles, "Makes me feel like we robbed a bank with a hundred conspirators, and we're dividing it up between them all."

He was curious about how close they'd guessed the prices of things and services, so when he restacked the bills, he left the Post-It's in place. "I have a safe in back." He laughed again. "Been so long since I've used it to hold actual money, I might not remember the combination."

They finished, and after he fed her lunch, Vance made his farewells with Viola. Before he closed the door behind her, he told her with a serious, sincere tone, "You have no idea what good this is going to do. I just mean just for me. I mean for the community. It's been a long time since Toland had a place where families could go to have a meal or play some games or listen to some live music. You've done a good thing here."

 

[Alice2015]

Maxine Toland and Claudia Owens (with Mark Zane) -- OOC thread

The Modern Hotel
50 South Main Street

Friday, March 21, 2025
8:00 am:

(OOC: In my other roleplays with lots of characters, I put a link to the OOC Thread/Character List at the top of my posts. I'm going to start doing that here, too. You can choose whether or not to do that yourself.)

"The coffee's already brewing," Maxine told Mark as she turned and shuffled back toward the kitchen. "I'll bring it out in a couple of minutes."

She found the percolator already boiling over a burner on the gas stove and turned down the flame. She was 92 years old and had never owned either an espresso machine or even an electric drip machine. When her mother had run the Modern, she'd resisted the latter, and when Maxine herself took over running the hotel, she had then and still today was resisting the former. She would never pay five bucks a pop for a coffee, so why would she tease her guests to do the same?

As Mark headed off to perform another task before going to his second job just before noon, Claudia arrived with the morning donuts. She put three boxes of a dozen treats each on the front desk, then found her boss and told her, "They didn't have the pink one with sprinkles today, sorry. I know they're your favorites."

"That's okay, Claud," Maxine said, resigned. "I expected this."

The couple who ran the bakery, Thomas and Rosa Brown, had already informed their most loyal customer that they had discontinued restocking most flavors and toppings as they were depleted. The Brown's, who were in their 50s, had run the bakery since they'd married and bought it in their early 20s, but now they were preparing to close it permanently. They were buying just enough flour, eggs, milk, etc., to make enough pastries to get through the morning but very little else.

"I don't know why you have me buy three dozen," Claudia said. She pulled out the note Maxine had left on the front desk last night, saying, "I mean, you'll have one, I'm gonna eat one or two, and Mark, well, he's a bottomless pit, but still, he never eats more than five or six of them. That leaves a bunch."

"I have my reasons," Maxine told her. The two of them chatted about some of the chores that needed to be done today. The biggest priority, of course, was arranging the VHS tapes Maxine wanted to watch today next to the VCR. "I'm thinking Leave it to Beaver ... and maybe some Mayberry RFD."

"I'm going to an art thingy at The Rummage House today at noon," Claudia told the other female. She hesitated before giving the shocking part of the announcement: "With Charlie Reed."

Maxine turned to smile at the girl. She mumbled, "About time you got together with that boy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the teen asked, surprised.

Maxine chuckled, saying, "You've liked that boy since you were in kindergarten--"

"No, I haven't!" Claudia countered. "He likes me!"

"Okay," was all Maxine said in response. Claudia went off to organize the tapes, and Maxine finished the coffee and filled both a tall travel mug and a thermos. She told the girl, "Take these to Mark."

Claudia did as told and also took one of the still-full boxes of assorted donuts with her. She told him, "You might as well take this with you to your other job. I think that was Max's intention all along."

They chatted a moment before Claudia asked with a knowing smirk, "Did you go out drinking with Viola last night? Did you have fun? She's really something, isn't she? Whaddaya think, do you think maybe ... you know..."

She wasn't actually going to ask the man Do you think you and she will hook up? But she did like teasing Mark about such things. Over the years, there'd been a few female guests who had been beautiful, and Claudia thought that maybe they might have caught Mark's eye or vice versa. She'd never seen him hook up with any of them, but then she was kept busy with chores and school and homework and club stuff, so ... who knows?

But then, there was the Deputy as well. Connor Evans was as much of a hunk as Mark was, and he was a cop, if that was Viola's thing.

"I have some things to do before I have to be somewhere," she told Mark, winking to him playfully before she ran off to get ready to see Charlie -- no, no! Before she went to the Gelli Art presentation that Charlie just happened to also be going to. Yeah ... that was it.

Mark always checked with Maxine before he left, and when he did she waved him over to her. She handed him six of the $100 bills Viola had given her the day before. "Take this," she told him. "Half of it is yours. Consider it back pay. The other half ... didn't you tell me you had some tools you needed ... or seals for the revolving door or something?"

If he tried to refuse the bills for pay, she would fetch her daddy's Zippo and threaten another money fire as she had with Claudia the day before. She gestured Mark toward a note she'd written and left on the front desk; it read, Free donuts inside to anyone willing to share a smile and a stupid joke. She told him, "Tape that to the front of the Sentinel Weekly box."

Fridays were a non-school day for the Toland School District kids, and Maxine knew that some of them were sent out to play with breakfasts that she would have considered inadequate for growing bodies. Donuts might not be God's perfect food, but Maxine knew that nearly every kid liked them and that they'd get eaten.