Page 316 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

Her stomach tightened that much more. “Okay.”

He strolled around the dividing desk, vanishing briefly behind a crisp white wall before the door on her side of it opened and he stepped out into her half of his office. Small as the space was, she backed up into an old-fashioned gumball machine, nearly knocking it over when he reached for the door leading out.

He held it open for her. “After you.”

She didn’t like him. But then, she didn’t have to. She just had to do whatever he said.

She went back outside into the full heat of the desert evening. The breeze that tousled her dark auburn hair carried the coolness of night with it. She actually shivered when Travis stepped out behind her, following her down the single step onto the gravel and hard clay parking lot.

“I am not your mother or your father. I am the man who will send you back to prison for another three years if you misbehave.” Taking the lead, he walked her down the line of hotel rooms until they came to the second from the end. The black sticker letters on the door read, 21. “Home sweet home away from home.”

He didn’t unlock the door. He just pushed it open, holding this one for her too while he gestured her in ahead of him.

“There are no locks. You may not block me from coming in. You will submit to all impromptu inspections that might be required to make sure you’re following all the rules. My judgment in all matters is absolute and final.”

That pretty much went without saying. She slipped past him into the incredibly small motel room, staring from the twin bed, to the chest of drawers along one wall, and the tiny table and single chair placed in front of the only window. That was it for furniture. No TV, no refrigerator or coffee maker. The closet had no door. Neither did the bathroom. The whole place smelled like dust and mold. It needed to be aired out.

“The Utah taxpayers are not responsible for your upkeep anymore. That means you will get a job and you will pay rent on the lap of luxury you have just been given.” He paused, as if expecting a response although he hadn’t asked a question.

She answered him anyway. “Yes, sir.”

“The room is $250 every week, plus extras. If you’ve got a problem with that, I honestly don’t care. My house, my rules. Period.” He paused again.

Wandering as far as the little bathroom, she said another dutiful, “Yes, sir,” as she glanced inside.

The toilet, sink, tub, and both floor and wall tiles were all 1970s avocado green. The tub was small enough to win a Guinness world record. There was no shower curtain, but there was a slightly rusty mirror and medicine cabinet in the wall above the sink.

“Your first rent and expense payment is due—” he checked the date on his wristwatch. “This Friday. Now I know you just got here, but I’m not a man to make exceptions for anyone. If you can’t pay all of what you owe at the end of each week, then I’ll start a tab for you, but you will pay it all eventually. Your paychecks will come to me, and I’ll make sure of it. Got it?”

Her tense stomach sank. She tried to do the math, but two-fifty a week, plus four weeks in a month, divided by forty-hours if she was lucky to get a full time job. She couldn’t do it in her head, but she was sure that was more money that she was going to make, considering she’d been in jail while the rest of her senior class graduated. Being in prison had given her a chance to get her GED, but how many times had her father told her that all GEDs were good for was flipping burgers and waiting tables?

There was probably a deli in Starvation’s one and only gas station, but the town was too small even for a McDonald’s. Was minimum wage too little for her to meet Travis’s requirements? She didn’t have a resume or any way to make one. How was she going to do this?

“Got it?” Travis said again, a steely undertone creeping into what was no longer a sexy or honeyed voice.

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

She didn’t have a choice. She would have to just figure it out.

“There’s my girl,” he praised, but the compliment—if it even was one—just made her that much more nervous. “Now, I assume you’ve got money in your wallet from whatever job you did while in the prison employment program, right?”

Was he going to take it from her?

Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Best buy food with it, because meals are not served on me. I might, upon occasion, be persuaded to scrounge up something if you don’t have anything, but there will be a cost and I don’t think you want to be indebted to me. Do you?”

She shook her head.

A corner of his mouth lifted as he eased a step closer. “Use your words, darlin’. I want to hear you say it.”

Her throat was almost too tight to swallow. “No, sir.”

“Do you have any questions?” he asked, silken soft and all-knowing.

More than nervous, he made her feel small. And when she was small like this, wanting to talk was nearly impossible. The practical part of her, however, was frantically trying to figure out how she was supposed to survive this. “Do… do you know who in town might be hiring?”

“I might. You got a problem helping work a farm?”

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