by John Benson
I found her huddled beneath an overpass, straw colored hair stringy and sodden, clothes soaked, forlorn as a drenched cat. I stopped to see if I could help. My windshield wipers thumped. I rolled the window down. The storm blew in spray. "Hop in," I said. "I'll take you anywhere you want."
Wary as an animal, blue eyes which had seen too much. "I don't do that," she said. "But thanks."
I had to shout to carry above the storm. "Don't flatter yourself," I said. "I never screw women under thirty."
She grinned and opened up my passenger side door and came inside and sat there, dripping on my car seat. Her book bag sat between us, an unappetizing lump. Poor thing must be chilled to the bone. Her jean jacket wasn't waterproof. "I have nowhere to go," she said.
Yeah, I know I shouldn't, but I have a thing for strays. "Then come to my place and I'll get you warm and dry," I said. "First things first. We'll work the rest out later."
She looked at me, fearful, hopeful, way uncertain. "I'm not a whore," she said.
"I'm not in the market," I said. I pulled out from the relative safety of the bridge and rain assaulted us in horizontal sheets. "Fred Anderson, by the way. Sure you don't have anyplace to stay?"
"Amber Baake," she said. She sighed and looked out the window, even though with the rain and all, there was nothing much to see.
She looked cute in my terry bathrobe, way oversized for her, after a shower, warmer, dry, walking towards me with my tabby tomcat weaving between her legs. "I've always liked cats," she said. She looked cute, but I had no real desire to screw her. Spank her, maybe, but that's just me.
"He overeats," I said. "You should have seen him when I first found him. The bones were sticking out. I guess he remembers the lean times and wants to keep stocking up in case."
She leaned down and scratched him behind the ears. He closed his eyes and purred. Attention slut. It must be nice to be a cat. Enjoy being petted and you've got it made. "Your clothes are out of the washer and in the dryer," I said. "Luckily they were all dark colors so I could do them all together. Meanwhile, I need to hear your story."
She sat on one end of the sofa and I took the other end, leaving her some space, letting her know I wasn't coming on to her. She looked at me, blue eyes, and I read vulnerability and strength.
"Dad left when I was little," she said. "Mom was a druggie so I was pretty much the mom and had to take care of her. It was almost a relief when she got busted, but then they sent me to live with this foster family and everything was okay during the daytime but at night the lady drank herself stupid and the guy started coming in my room, and so I ran away. I'm still going to school and nobody ever comes for me, so I figure they never told I'm gone."
"Three guesses why," I said. It didn't take three guesses. If they told on her, she'd tell on him.
She smiled. "Yeah," she said. "It's not easy being homeless. I do my homework in the library and wash up in the rest room. I've been sleeping in the park. The pimps come by and try and recruit me sometimes, but they take it when I tell them 'no'. Maybe they know that by November or so, I'll have to change my mind."
Strength and vulnerability. It's a combination I've always found alluring. "You could stay with me," I said. "I have the room, but I doubt the authorities would allow it. A man who lives alone is hardly the proper placement for a girl of what, fourteen?"
"Fifteen," she said. She snuffled and I pointed to a box of Kleenex. She took one and blew her nose. "You could just not say," she said. "That way they can't say 'no'."
My basic contempt for authority made that seem attractive, but I'm not big on taking risks. "Not today's problem," I said. "Tomorrow's Saturday and I'm taking you to the mall. You must be tired of that flannel shirt and jeans."
A wary smile. "Why?" she asked.
Because I pick up strays. "Why do I feed the tomcat? Because he's cute and I like having him around," I explained.
Another wary smile. "If you try anything I'll run away," she said.
"Deal," I said. "You hungry? I can heat a pizza while you go take your stuff out of the dryer."
"Well, kind of," she said.
Truth is, I got one piece.
A cute girl was sleeping in the next room. If she's going to stay here, I thought, I'll have to hide my spanking hobby, collect the pictures and implements and stuff them in my closet. For a moment I let myself think about spanking Amber. Great fantasy, crummy reality. Not only had I no right, I had no reason. Nothing that I knew about her meant she'd done something wrong. It was okay to fantasize about her so long as that never affected the way I treated her for real. A dream scene made my pecker rise, and I did what needed to be done.
"Mr. Anderson?"
"Yes, speaking."
"Lydia Bosworth of Child Protective Services, returning your call."
Oh. Good. I really couldn't have Amber stay with me without clearing it with the powers that be. Too much risk. "Yes, thank you very much. You are the case worker for Amber Baake?"
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
"Well, at least a situation. Her placement was abusive. Rather than complain, it seems she chose to run away. She's been with me since Friday night. I'd be happy to keep her, but not without your approval."
"Are you married, Mr. Anderson?"
"Divorced."
A pause. "Oh. Have you had children?"
"Two daughters. They're in their thirties."
"Well, you're not on our list, nor are you eligible. We couldn't reimburse you."
I never thought of doing this for money. "I make six figures, Miss Bosworth. I think of this as private charity."
Another pause. "Oh. Well, yes, hardly ideal, but we are a bit short handed. There would have to be inspections."
"By all means, Miss Bosworth."
"Then I'll be seeing you. Oh, and Mr. Anderson?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
It wasn't until I had hung up I realized how glad I felt. It had only been a couple days, but I was getting fond of the little shit, and wanted her to stay.
After work I found her just where she said she'd be, at a table in the public library with her textbooks spread out in front of her, doing her homework. Diligent kid, I thought. A real keeper. She turned and smiled at me. She looked nice in the new clothes I'd bought her.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," I said.
She took a deep breath and stretched. "I wondered if you'd come," she said. Toughness and vulnerability. Yeah.
"I called CPS," I said. I saw her tense. "They said okay. There will be visits to see that everything is cool, but I guess they're hard up enough to accept my offer."
I saw how she relaxed. "They're overworked," she said. "Don't plan on a lot of visits." She stuffed her books back in her bag, and followed me out the door.
I was at peace as I drove her home. I like doing good things, picking up strays, and it's really a two way street. Young lives to make my world less empty, the cat, the girl. She sat with her backpack on her lap, tracing the edge with her finger. "You really sure you want to do this?" she asked. "I can be bad, sometimes."
"I'm sure," I said. I sensed her pause.
"I want you to do me a favor," she said. She was tentative, now, a tremor in her voice. "I want there to be rules for me, and when I break them, I want you to spank me hard."
A thrill went through me. Too close to a perfect fantasy. There could be danger here. "Is that how you're used to being treated, Amber?" I tried to keep my voice calm.
"Ha," she said. I could taste the bitterness. "Mom was a druggie, remember? I had to be the grownup. It isn't good for me to be the grownup. I need to be the kid. I need limits. Discipline. The certainty of being punished. Please? It's what I've always wanted."
Did she know that it's my thing? Was she coming on to me? I didn't think so. She seemed sad and scared, not sexy. "CPS would have a cow," I said.
"I promise not to tell," she said. "Please. I don't want to be my mom. She gave in to temptation, and look where she ended up. Please be strict with me. Don't let me be my mom."
Maybe she was afraid I wouldn't like her once I'd seen her faults and was giving me the gift of control to preempt the possibility, a gift more precious to me, more dangerous to me than she might know. But if I turned her down she'd feel rejected, and she didn't need that now. I struggled with myself, and hoped the good side won. I clenched the steering wheel a bit too tight, looked straight ahead. "Well, let's see," I said. "No alcohol, no drugs, no sex. All right?"
"Yes," she said. Her voice was stronger now. "Definitely yes."
"Be in bed early enough to be rested for school on weekdays," I said. "Be home by midnight on weekends."
"Uh huh," she said. "That all?"
Trap her in a tangled web of rules? No. She needed room to grow. "Until we find something else that needs inclusion," I said. "Oh, and Amber?"
"Yeah?"
"If you ever steal from me, I will not spank you. I'll kick you out."
"Well, duh," she said. "You're giving me more than I could ever steal. I'm not that dumb."
"Okay," I said, warmed by her answering smile. I drove home thinking troubled thoughts, half wanting Amber to mess up so I'd have to punish her, half hoping she would not, for there was danger there. Reality getting eerily close to fantasy, the knowledge of a line I dared not cross.
She made spaghetti and meat sauce and a tossed salad. "I don't mind cooking," said Amber. "I'm used to it. At home, if I didn't cook, nobody got to eat."
I didn't mind eating someone else's cooking for a change, especially since it smelled good. But then to drink she opened herself a beer.
"Amber," I said quite sharply. "No alcohol, remember?"
"Oops." She looked alarmed. "Sorry. You want it?"
"Not right now."
She put the beer back in the fridge. We sat down and ate, but she was quiet, a little pensive. I didn't figure out why 'til later. I was watching TV about 10pm that evening and in came Amber with that beer. She took a sip. Jeez. Could she be that stupid?
"Amber! What did I just tell you?"
She winced. "Sorry," she said. And she looked it, scared and sorry.
"You're testing me, aren't you? Must be. There's nothing wrong with your short term memory. You wanted to see if I keep my promises, don't you?"
"I don't know," she whined. "Maybe."
Damn. I had to do it now. She hadn't given me any choice. "If you're going to live here I have to set a good example, and that means I have to keep my promises. And what did I promise to do if you broke a rule?"
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