I don’t have much of a preamble for you this time. If you live in the U.S., I hope you had a fun and safe Thanksgiving. If you don’t live in the U.S., I hope you have a great weekend.
In case you have missed the chapters so far, here are links to them:
As always, the chapter below, and entire novel, are copyrighted.
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Safety Nation by Logan Riley
6
Two weeks had passed since we busted the orgy. When we returned that night, Huxley looked disappointed. Had he expected a ticker-tape parade and riches lavished upon him? Nothing happened. Nothing changed. Nobody noticed. We booked the offenders and sent them on their merry way without any fanfare. Since then, Huxley had been even more irritable.
I arrived about twenty minutes late. I didn’t see the need to show up on time. Besides, my tardiness would delay Huxley from getting the evening’s work started, and I derived a modicum of pleasure from that.
When I got to Sex Detail, I found Huxley slamming his fist repeatedly into the electronic map on the rolling easel. Each time he hit it, it rolled away from him, so he pulled it back and punched it again. Each collision caused the screen to flicker wildly.
“His exercise routine is coming along nicely,” I said to Lowry.
Huxley whirled around at the sound of my voice. “What the hell took so goddamn long? Where the hell were you?” he growled.
“The bathroom.”
“You just save that for when you’re off the clock, got it?”
He turned back and looked at the map. The screen was dark, and tendrils of smoke drifted out of it. “The map’s busted,” he said.
Huxley faced Lowry and spoke to her in a condescending tone. He had dropped the sweet act after he realized she wasn’t going to sleep with him. “Lowry, it’s time to take off the training wheels. I’m letting you out on your own tonight.”
“Great,” she said, perking up.
“We’ve got five dates, all high-risk. We’ll divide and conquer like always.”
He dug some paper and a pen out of the desk. He scribbled something on each piece of paper. He handed the first to Lowry and said, “You’ve got these two.” He handed me the second and said, “You’ve got one. Think you can handle that?”
I shoved the paper into my pocket without looking at it and said, “I think I can manage.”
He leaned in closer. His hot breath smelled like rotten cabbage. “I can’t wait ‘til you’re gone. It’s gonna be so sweet when they kick your ass out,” he said.
He stared intently, waiting for fear to come to my eyes. It never did. His face went flat. He huffed and said, “Let’s get moving.”