I’ve been toying with the idea of making a mini novella (10k or so), told in Phyllis’ POV, that would tell the story of how March and Phyllis started working together, 6 years before Spotless begins. Here’s a little bit of the WIP! I need to finish this one some day!
“Would you consider doing it for me? What you did for Mr. D.?”
I stiffen. I hadn’t been expecting this. Oh well, the man is easy enough on the eye, and he’s the one holding a concentrated sulfuric acid bottle and a gun, not me. I’ve long since learned to detach myself from my body—a survival skill of sorts—so I nod. I wish it would have been someone else, because I had grown rather fond of the kid, but if the price to escape the D-Mine alive is to spread my legs for March, then so be it.
He resumes pouring acid on Victor’s body without looking at me, and his quiet voice resounds again in the bathroom. “What are your salary requirements?”
I fight the slight nausea I can feel rising in my stomach. Not even rape, uh? I force a laugh out of my chest. “I suppose it all depends on what you want. Just a blow job? The whole nine yards?”
He stops filling the tub to stare at me, blinks twice. “I meant being my assistant, helping me with my accounting.”
Oh. I’m gonna have to pick up my jaw from the floor. “Are you serious?”
“You claimed that I wasn’t managing my money right, that my price grid was ill-adapted to the current market, and that my couponing abilities left something to be desired,” he recounts candidly.
“Well … yes.”
He glances down at the flesh slowly melting off of Victor’s chalky face, revealing white bones under a layer of bloody fat and muscles. “So, since you find yourself currently unemployed, I thought perhaps you might be interested in helping me manage my business. I could use the help … I keep getting the feeling that Paulie rises his base price before offering me my frequent flyer discount, and administrative tasks are very time consuming: I often find myself spending more time screening my clients than killing them.”