Page 60 of Preying Heart
“She doesn’t even know.”
“Yes, but her mother knows, and we can find her mother’s identity through the foster care system. I have a friend who can do some digging.”
She quiets down, giving me time to fund Remi’s wallet with the amount of cryptocurrency needed for the NFT marketplace fees. I create two collections for her: the Fantasy Fashion Fair and the Loud Lioness League. It’s too bad Remi has to give up her social media accounts, but then a thought hits me.
If she uses VPN, she can access her social media account and become a fan of several NFT artists, including herself, and in that way, move her money by buying one of her own NFTs. She’ll lose on the transaction fees, but it’s a small price to pay to get her own money.
“We’re going to have to let her go someday,” Lucy says. “I tried twice.”
“I’m not happy you did that. She was too fragile to go off on her own. No money. Alone and pregnant. How was she going to make it?”
“There are social services,” Lucy says. “A lot of women live at the shelter.”
“It’s still dependency. Not any different from what she had going on with Gavin.”
“How can you say that? The women’s shelter doesn’t require her to do anything for the benefits they provide. They’re funded by taxpayers.”
Lucy and I will never agree on this. Perhaps it’s because she was raised by both a father and a mother. She had the security of not ever having to fend for herself.
“It’s still the same. Dependency. It’s not a solution.” I place my hands on the desk and face her, ready for a fight.
“How’s that different from her depending on you?” Lucy juts her chin.
“Big difference. I’m not stealing taxpayer money to support her. It’s called charity.”
“So is the women’s shelter. They get donations too.”
“But they also get taxpayer money.”
“So what? We need to help the poor.”
“We do, but only if we consent to it. If we don’t consent to it, then they are stealing.”
“We are sharing the burden. The haves help the have-nots. I donate my medical services to the poor.”
“That’s commendable, but you did it willingly. It’s charity. If someone compels you to work for them, then it’s not charity. It’s slavery.”
She slams her palms on the desk and pushes up. “I know you hate paying taxes, but come on, it isn’t slavery.”
“Oh yeah? When someone lives off the sweat of your brow and the fruits of your labor, what do you call it? Theft or slavery? Choose your poison.”
“It’s not like those poor women stole from you.”
“They didn’t, but the government made us slaves to work and feed those poor women. The average taxpayer works four months out of the year just to cover their taxes. In other words, for four months out of every year, I am a slave for all of the moochers who don’t work and take from me.”
“Would you rather they starved?” Lucy’s voice rises to a screech.
“I’d rather they worked. At least all the able-bodied people should work.” I face off with her. “Look at Remi for example. She’s able-bodied and she’s smart enough to create digital art. If you shunt her to a women’s shelter and she has her baby there, she’ll end up as a ward of the state and have other people work to keep her alive.”
“In other words, you’re calling wards of the state slave owners.” Lucy snarls. “Twisted. I swear. You’d rather have her work as a whore than to be a slave owner in your world.”
“Enough.” I ball up my fists and glare at her, hating her at this moment. “Leave my mother out of this.”
“I didn’t mention her. You’re too sensitive.”
She’s damn right I’m sensitive, and that shows exactly how much she doesn’t understand. My mother died working. Hers walked away and mooched off the state.
“My mother worked. She would have made it too, but she was murdered.”
