My New Girlfriend Ch. 10

It was a Saturday, but I went in to work anyway. After all, I had no intention of cashing in on either of my cash cows, so I had an actual job to see to. My co-workers were happy to have me back, and while I wasn't in the most social of moods, I was glad for the company of people who had absolutely nothing to do with any secret rings of mind-controlled sex slaves. We talked about football, and the up-coming presidential inauguration, and about Taylor Swift. It was delightfully banal.

When I got home, the apartment was empty. I'd not given Erika any instructions, but I wasn't surprised that Courtney evidently had. I wondered if she was worried about me, or angry with me for digging into her past, or just wanted to screw me one more time for the road, or what.

I could pick up the phone and call her – that's all it would take.

But why should I? Didn't I already know what I needed to know? She'd been involved in taking women as sex slaves. She'd been a willing whore as recently as last night. She'd lied to me, preyed upon my gullibility to worm her way into my life.

I picked up the phone. Feel like shit – you busy? I texted.

Stu and Rich arrived not two hours later, the former toting a case of beer and the latter with a commiserating frown. "Lay it on me, brother."

"It's Courtney, right? Finally dumped ya, huh man. Ya know, it was always just a matter of time. Just be glad for what you had while it lasted," Stu said with a few pats on my shoulder.

As we settled in to our usual spots, grabbing a few beers each and making a start on tomorrow's hangover, I couldn't stop the two of them from adding a few more platitudes and condolences. Stu was in the midst of a recollection of our cookout late in the summer where she'd grilled out on the patio in nothing but an apron when I finally had to cut them off.

"We didn't break up, guys. Not yet."

"What? Well then what the hell is going on?"

"Yeah," Rich groused. "Made it sound like you were about to pull the trigger or something."

"Oh whatever, like you guys had something else going on. Now c'mon, I got a story for you, and I need to know what the hell to do."

So I told them everything I knew. About my suspicions, and Courtney's refusal to explain herself, about the serum, about Erika, about Arman's brothel (dashing Stu's intrigued expression with the price tag), about Courtney's role in the organization, about hearing her behind that door.

"Dude, you're a shit detective," Stu said.

"Well thanks, Columbo. If only I'd had you at my side."

"Well seriously. Why didn't you just tail her, or put some hidden cameras around the place, or keep tabs on her texts and email, or–"

"–and why'd you wait a week before that lame-brained stunt with Erika?"

"–or just go back to the brothel without her later, or–"

"–or ask her friends"

"–or just sit her down, look her in the eye and tell her she's got one chance to be straight with ya?"

"Or at least tell her she's a skank and broom her, if that's what you're gonna do."

"Exactly."

We were at our usual height of semi-inebriated creativity, right between the fourth and fifth beers, and they knew when to stop the stream of criticisms. There it was, the same suggestion Erika had given me. It was exactly what I'd wanted to do before she'd said it, but hearing the advice come from her lips had made me doubt it.

These guys were probably the only two people in the world who would side with me over a girl like Courtney. Don't get me wrong, I knew if Stu found five grand laying on the sidewalk he'd fork it over to Arman and bang one of his girls in a heartbeat – but not Courtney. That they were reinforcing my instinct told me it was the thing to do. Have it out.

"Yeah. I'll just have her over, tell her I know what I know, and just... break up with her. Right?"

"Right for the throat, eh?" Stu asked after a sip. "Probly best that way – no tears, no lies, no ambiguity."

"That how you wanna go? Don't even wanna hear her side of things?" Rich said with a bit more compassion in his voice.

"What is there to hear?" I asked. "What excuse is there for hiding all this? What's she gonna do, justify enslaving other women? Explain why she's still working at the brothel without even telling me?"

Rich finished his beer, letting the silence bring back a bit of my calm. "I'm not telling you how to feel man, and sure, this whole thing... this is about as fucked up a scenario as anything I've heard. Still, just 'cause the details are different... people still have sides. Truth's still got versions."

"You're fuckin' drunk, man," Stu said, snapping open another can.

"Listen. I never told you guys, but about six years back, Ellen... I found out she'd been running around on me. Found a few signs, put two and two together. Things got real ugly when I confronted her about it – she denied it, then she said I deserved it, I called her some things and she called me some things.

"But I tell you what. When the dust settled and we'd both had our say, we finally got to really talking about it. Now here we are, doing just fine. As good as we've ever been. If I'd never heard her out, who knows where we might be now."

"So you're saying I should give her a chance," I said.

"I'm not telling you what to do – I'm just saying for me, I'm glad I listened and didn't just talk." He raised his beer can to me, then downed the rest.

We talked through the evening. About relationships, about sex, about the Patriots. It was a good evening, and I was as grateful as I'd ever been to have two solid, level-headed buddies in my life.

I gave myself a little time to sober up, then picked up my phone and stared at it for a long time. This was it. However I handled this phone call could well determine the course of the rest of my life. I had Courtney's number saved of course, but I dialed it manually so I could chicken out before I hit the last number. I did this a dozen or so times.

Then I hit it, and the phone began to ring.