Working for Mom

Sylvia pushed Vic back and looked down the hall. "Where is she? Where did she go?"

The scissors gleamed in the corner from the last of the sunlight that shone down the hall, and Sara crawled to reach them. She scrambled to her feet when she had the scissors again and turned to face an angry, limping shadow staggering out of the light. She bolted around the corner into the darkened shop.

Vic and Sylvia were shadows in the growing night. The only sounds over the hum of the air conditioner were their gasps and labored breath, Sara's quick, uncertain footfalls, and Vic's painful shuffle. He followed her around Abby's desk, and then between the massage tables as the light from outside faded. Vic cut through rooms and around chairs to keep Sara from going back toward Abby and Sylvia, and he angled to trap her—maybe in a restroom, maybe in a corner.

They collided in a darkened hallway. Sara slashed at Vic's shadow, and he snapped away from the pain in his cheek. He pushed Sara away, and she staggered into Sylvia's office where he knew there was no other way out.

Vic couldn't see into the offices' pitch darkness, so he slapped at the light switch. There was an instant when they both blinked against the clinical fluorescent light without moving, then Vic wiped at the blood that trickled down his cheek, and Sara dropped the scissors.

"Someone chased me here!" Sara said. "He wanted to hurt me!" She had Sylvia's blood spattered on her hands and her face.

"Damn you!" Vic said, and lunged at Sara. He spun her around by her shoulder and trapped her with his hand around her waist. She wasn't fighting him yet, but he knew that catching her was going to be easier than holding her.

Vic glanced around the office for something—anything—he could use to restrain Sara, and he found his kit where Sylvia left it, forgotten in a corner with her smock tossed over it.

Sara started struggling while Vic dragged her toward the kit. "Vic, what are you doing?" She gasped when he pushed his knee into the back of her legs. She fell to the floor, and Vic collapsed on top of her.

Vic didn't give Sara a word of explanation. He sat up on her hips and trapped one of her wrists against her back. Sara almost pulled away from him when he leaned to reach the kit, but when he sat on her again he had the kit within reach.

"Pretty pony has been making too many of her own decisions," Vic said as he searched the kit for his cuffs and shackles. Sara turned her head to look at him, and Vic felt her body relax—not a lot, but enough to let him work one of the cuffs around the wrist he held against her back.

Vic caught Sara's other wrist and twisted it to her back while she gasped for air. "Vic, you don't have to hurt me! I already know you love me!"

"I don't love you," Vic said, and turned around to face her feet. "You were my client, and that's all you ever were." He shackled one ankle while he talked, and then the other.

Vic rolled off from Sara and sat on the floor beside her. He rocked back and forth and rubbed his knee to ease the pain, and he watched her pull her knees under her and push her butt in the air. "Your pretty pony wants to do her tricks," she said.

Sara's offer might have been tempting some other time, but not now. Instead, Vic noticed the keys dangling from her front pocket. He tugged on them until they pink poof they were attached to came free. They were Abby's keys. He felt around to Sara's delight and found another set of keys in her pocket. They came out with a Maserati fob.

Vic used the desk to drag himself to his feet, pocketed Sara's keys, and left her with her butt up. He limped back to the closet where Abby knelt in front of Sylvia. She was cleaning blood from Sylvia's hands and arms, and trying to stop the bleeding.

Sylvia looked up over Abby and asked, "Where's Sara?"

"On the floor in your office in cuffs and shackles," Vic said, and stopped because Sara's voice rose. She sobbed and begged for him. "I need to get Roger here." He handed Abby her keys, dropped to a knee, and winced. He collapsed to sit beside Abby and looked at his mom. "How are you?"

"Abby thinks I'll live," Sylvia said, "but I hurt, and I'm a little nauseous."

"The stab on her shoulder looks pretty deep," Abby said and dabbed at the blood on Vic's face. "Most of the others are on her hands and arms. Some of them go to the bone."

Vic stopped Abby. "Can you take Mom to the emergency? Baptist is close. I'll call Roger, take care of Sara and close the shop."

"I'll take her and stay there with her," Abby said. "Can you bring burgers or something. I'm going to be starving.

"You know," Abby said as she watched Vic lift his knee and straighten it. "Maybe you should get help, too."

"When there's time," Vic said. He pushed himself up from the floor and helped his mom out the door and into Abby's car, and then he limped back to Sylvia's office with his phone to his ear.

* * *

It was late that night when Vic finally had Sylvia resting in her bed. He settled down beside her with a butterfly bandage on his cheek and ice packs on his ankle and his knee. He gave her his arm as a pillow, and she stroked his chest with her bandaged hands. They talked in whispers while her sleeping pill slowly kicked in.

"We're not going to do the escort thing next year, are we?" Vic asked, and Sylvia groaned.

"Oh God, no. Not on a bet," she said. "It looked so good before Sara. Now, after I pay the deductible, take the loss for not being able to work, and adsorb the cost of fixing the closet I might still come out ahead, but it isn't worth it."

"Maybe you could offer tattoos and piercings instead." Vic said.

Sylvia picked her head up to look at him. "That's not a bad idea," she said. "I'll look into it. Remind me in the morning, after the pills wear off."

They were quiet for a moment before Sylvia stirred again. "There were so many people around at the hospital that I never felt like asking," she said, "How did it go with Sara and Roger?"

Vic moved a lock of silver hair away from Sylvia's lips. "I think they must have loved each other some time," he said. "Maybe they will again, but I have this doubt, you know? She's nuts, and I don't really trust Roger to do what she needs.

"I told him that if Sara tries to contact any of us again, then we'll get the police involved. I don't give a damn what it might do to his reputation or his business."

Sylvia chuckled, and her breath was warm and relaxed on her son's shoulder. "Maybe Abby and I'll take shooting lessons and keep a gun around. How did Sara take it all?"

"I don't really know," Vic said. "She went back into that shell where she just waits for someone to do something. I think she recognized Roger, but she didn't give much sign of it. I could barely see her through the window after we got her into the car. She gave me that look she had when she would say, 'I know you love me.' I had to shake it off."

Sylvia was quiet for a moment and her eyes drifted shut, but then she said "Aren't we a mess? I can't use my hands, and you can hardly walk. What are we going to do?"

"I'll be here for a couple more weeks," Vic said, "but I don't have any clients left and I'm not taking any new ones. You can't cut hair—you can hardly run your laptop." He kissed Sylvia's forehead and pulled her close. "How about, I'll take care of you, and you can take care of me."

Vic had to imagine his mother's answer. Her eyes were closed, and her body was soft. Her breath was warm and even.

Thanks to RustyOzNails and Vix_Giovanni for their helpful input on this story.