Cleanup

“Ah, Mom,” Jasmine Smith, the twenty-something mocha-skinned bombshell begins, “Do you mind… sanitizing the security footage?”

“Why? We didn't do anything wrong…” Samantha Smith, the forty-something white mother referenced starts, then pauses, “Ah, right. Will do… but if we're going to be deleting the footage anyway… dish, my baby girl.”

“Ah, right, well… remember that ring you got for five bucks?” Jasmine holds up her hand, showing the mage's anchor.

“Yeah, it's…” the mother pauses, “...wait, that's it? The ring I picked up at a garage sale gives you super powers?”

“Indirectly?” The G-cup woman shrugs, “It's got an ancient wizard inside, who can possess me to do stuff, including making magic superhero gear that I can use when not possessed. Which reminds me… mind if I snag one of the titanium rings? We have dozens, and they don't exactly sell quickly. He needs something small, sturdy, and low-profile to enchant.”

“This is a business…” Samantha smiles as she rolls her eyes.

“Not actually a problem…” the daughter grins, “...the guy's loaded. He just casually transferred ten grand to my account last night, and set me up with something of a trust fund, because HE wants to be more comfortable. I can cover the ten bucks for one of the plain ones, no problem; he doesn't want something fancy for this anyway.”

“So he wants… what, like a silk glove or something?” The older woman seems confused, “What's luxury for a ring?”

“Ah… no, he ordered fancy clothes for me and satin sheets for the bed,” Jasmine shrugs, “He…borrows my body, mostly while I'm sleeping, and just… has fun after he's done working on whatever I ask of him.”

“Ah, honey, that sounds….” the mother goes into a very concerned mode.

“The man has been very upfront about exactly what he wants,” Jasmine rolls her eyes, “he's respected every boundary I've set, and has set a few for himself based on what he anticipates for my needs; he even made a tasty breakfast for me. He's supportive, attentive, respectful, eager to keep me safe, and oh yes: He's loaded. Okay, so he's umm… corporeally impaired? He's still a good guy, even if he is a bit… transactional.”

“Seems a little fast,” the elder Smith frowns, “you just met him yesterday.”

“Well… yes…” Jasmine takes a breath, “...but it's not like it'd be fair to set him aside for a week to think. He doesn't HAVE a life without me. Like, literally. Besides… he found Dad.”

The blood drains from the elder Smith's face, “What?”

“He confirmed Dad is dead,” the younger Smith frowns, “told me he was Matthew King, gave me a sketch and the coordinates of his grave. I plan to visit after my shift to… I don't know, get some closure? I never got to meet the man.”

“So I'm finally free…” the older woman whispers.

Jasmine pauses, “Okay, so… I know you don't like to talk about it, but I am an adult, and I should know.”

The older woman takes a deep breath, “You should…” she then rolls up her sleeve, and rubs a spot under her arm, stripping off a little flesh-tone base paint makeup… revealing a small tattooed number of seven digits’ length. “I was born in Argentina, caught when I was eight, loaded up on a truck, and auctioned off. That THING in the ground is what's left of the monster that bought me. I got away at nineteen, but not before….” she breaks down sobbing.

The daughter blinks a few times, then hugs her mother, whispering, “You're safe now, he can't hurt you anymore…” and other mostly meaningless phrases intended to comfort the woman.

Eventually she calms down, and continues, “So… they never caught him, as far as I know. There's some assistance programs for people who…” the woman takes another slow breath, “...yeah. Anyway, I got a long-term visa, some housing and food assistance, Community College classes… and found out I was carrying you. Abortion wasn't legal at the time; I had planned to give you up for adoption, but when I held you in my arms for the first time…” the elder Smith smiles through the tears, “...I found I didn't want to let you go. The one good thing in my life to come out of that nightmare. I've never regretted that decision.”

The woman takes another ragged breath, “I got the paperwork in order to get my citizenship when you were five. Life was tough… I was always looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to find me again.” She pauses, “Can I come with you? I think I'd like to spit on his grave… maybe dance on it… I don't know…”

“I…” Jasmine pauses, lets out a breath, and takes another, “...I think I want to be alone with him the first time? Or, well, as alone as I can be with my new ‘boyfriend’. I'll send you the address and stuff once I have it as something more than GPS coordinates.”

Samantha takes a breath, “Okay. I'll be okay. And I'll go delete the last couple hours of video from this room and call the police. Just so our story is straight…”

“Some green and black masked hero came in and bopped him on the head, then fixed him up, and left,” Jasmine shrugs, “We didn't recognize her.”

“Works for me…” the mother walks off to the back room to place a call that's going to mean they'll lose most of a day of business….