14

Like with the other installments, please read the story in order. There is a very important message for you prior to Chapter 1. Thanks for reading my story.

Chapter 13

Tough times arrive.

Returning to some normalcy on Monday morning with a jog before breakfast, we had cereal and fruit before leaving for work. I had several meetings scheduled with suppliers and our insurance company before going to the restaurants to continue meeting with employees.

Pam began her second week at the bank and was dreading the comments about the photos and article in Sunday's paper. We decided over breakfast to simply tell the truth if someone commented or asked. We would say that one of the models was Pam's sister who had been adopted at birth. They met for the first time on Saturday and got along great. There was conversation, not confrontation as reported by the local paper. And finally, Pam has never appeared in

Playboy

.

Pam received the credit card linked to my account and I transferred $5000 to her new checking account later that morning.

Arriving at the office, I checked with Cheryl and many people had responded positively to our party invitation. We had invited 90 people. The Bistro would be catering it so that Pam and I could spend all our time with the guests. She was already thinking about what to wear.

I checked with Ron and he had sent my response about the article to all the restaurant managers. They were covering all the employees in small meetings as they arrived for work. He said that on Sunday, only a couple of guests asked or made comments while dining. Their servers responded by asking, "Do you believe what you read in our local rag?" More importantly, there was no discernable drop in guests.

When I arrived home that evening, Pam was in a happy mood. Jason had asked to meet with her when she arrived. She explained the entire story to him. To his credit, he then called in all the tellers and customer service personnel and explained to them what had happened. It ended up being a non-event, as everyone knew how reporters exaggerate. They were all happy that Pam had found her sister.

We were sitting in the library talking when Pam's cell rang. It was Janie. I could tell from Pam's words and her expressions that things were going well. They talked for several minutes.

As soon as the call ended, Pam said, "Janie is having a wonderful time. She said she felt at home. She and Mom had spent most of the day talking about their experiences and life in general. They cooked lunch and dinner together. She said she loved to cook, which surprised me.

"They're going shopping tomorrow and she'll call again tomorrow evening. Of course, you heard me say we would drive over on Thursday."

Tuesday and Wednesday morning flew by and Pam and I were both very busy. There was still no apparent fallout from the article and very few people even commented on it. I did have to take a little ribbing on the Tuesday morning call with my team. It was all good-natured and we had a robust laugh over it. The sisters talked Tuesday night and Janie recounted their shopping experience and how excited she was to find such good deals at the outlet mall. The visit could not have been going better, and Janie was obviously impressed with her mother.

Wednesday afternoon, I received a call from our manager at The Rusty Rudder. He said a man had been in for lunch and was asking questions about Pam and me. He was looking for her. They didn't tell him anything.

That scared me. With the newspapers showing Pam's Associated Press picture everywhere, that policeman from Charlotte could have seen her.

I immediately called Brett, the district attorney, and he promised to email a mug shot of John Cramer to see if he was the one asking the questions. It arrived in a few moments and I sent it on to all three restaurants with a note asking if he had been in. All three came back with emails within the hour to say that this guy had been in at least once in the last two days.

I called Brett again and relayed that information. He told me that Cramer was violating the bail restrictions by leaving North Carolina and that an arrest warrant would be requested through the Charlotte district attorney.

I left for home early to be there when Pam arrived. I had no idea if Cramer had learned where I lived or where she worked but I didn't want to take a chance. I have an unlisted phone number but I could still be found. Arriving before her, I walked to my office to retrieve a Smith & Wesson .38 Special I kept there. Returning to the library, I waited until I heard Angel arrive.

When the garage door opened, I walked out to escort her in. She was petrified when she saw the revolver.

"Tom, what's going on?" Tears came to her eyes.

"Cramer is in town looking for you."

"OH NO! How do you know?"

"He's been to all the restaurants asking questions about you and me. He's trying to find you." I quickly filled her in on all the activities going on and that a warrant would be issued.

"That damn book. I should never have taken it."

"We can't worry about that now. Let's get you out of here."

"We're leaving tonight?"

"Yes, right now. Let's get our clothes together. We'll take Angel."

"I'm so sorry, Tom."

"We'll go to the cabin tonight and then on to your mom's tomorrow as planned. Let's hurry."

We were packed and out of there in less than 20 minutes with the house fully secured and the alarm system and cameras activated. On the way down the mountain, I called Brett to let him know we were leaving for a few days. He told us that the warrant had been issued and the Chattanooga and state police were now looking for him.

Pam said, "I'll bet he saw the article or photos from the Westin."

"I'm sure. The reporter identified me and the restaurants and he knew that one of those women had to be you. Damn newspaper reporters."

I reached for her hand. "We'll get this guy and put him in jail for a long time." She studied me with fear in her eyes.

I glanced in the rear view mirror several times on the way to the interstate and noticed a blue car about 100 yards behind us. After making a few turns, the car was still behind us. I didn't want to alarm Pam just yet and didn't say anything. I stopped at a Shell station to fill Angel and noticed the car sitting across the street. The driver was a white man but he was too far away for me see his features. He was not looking at me whenever I glanced his way.

When at the wheel again, I continued on to I-75 south and again saw the car behind me maybe 200 yards back. It appeared to be a Kia sedan, one of the cheaper models.

"Pam, I'm going to stop at the Georgia welcome center and I want you to go into the ladies room and wait until I come for you."

"Why? I don't need to go."

"I don't want you to stay in the car. There may be someone following us?"

"What? Where?" She turned to look behind us.

"There's a light blue Kia behind us and he's been following us since we left home."

"Oh jeez. I can't see who it is. He's back too far."

"When we get to the rest stop, walk inside with me. I'll see where he parks and see if I can get closer to him. If it's Cramer, he's after you, not me and I might be able to sneak up on him while he's watching for you. But in case he comes inside, you must be in the ladies room."

"Tom, he could have a gun."

"I definitely have one."

"Can't we call the police?"

"What if it's not Cramer?"

"Why then is he following us?"

"We'll find out."

I parked Angel in a space near the handicapped parking area and helped Pam from the car. We walked together to the restrooms with the revolver tucked into the back of my belt, under a jacket. I glanced back and saw the blue Kia parked in a space at the end of the row where he could see people coming out of the building.

I waited while Pam entered the ladies room before walking through the building to the back entrance where truckers come and go. Walking down to the far end of the parking lot, keeping the building between the Kia and me, I crossed into the grove of trees and circled back, in an arc that would take me to the rear of his car. He was focused on the building and didn't notice me until I opened his door and pointed the revolver at this head. He quickly looked at me.

"Hello John. Keep both hands on the wheel."

He shifted slightly in the seat.

"Tom Sumter, I'm guessing."

"That's right. We all know why you're here but it's too late. Your little black book is already in the district attorney's office in Charlotte."

He looked down, appearing to be in thought.

"Why did she do it?"

"Do what?"

"Take that book."

"Revenge. You beat the shit out of her."

"That bitch has got to pay for what she did?"

"Don't you have to pay for assaulting her? She still had bruises a week later."

"She went through that book. I should have killed her on the spot."

As I held the gun to his head, I called 911 and reported the situation. I stayed on the line as directed.

"That book is important to me but it's also important to the people listed in it. If I don't get that book and destroy it, I'm a dead man and many very important people are going down with me."

I asked, "Why? Dealing drugs is not a death sentence and buying drugs is even less of one."

"There are judges, lawyers, other policemen and major business leaders listed in that book," he replied.

"The book is gone. We don't have it. There's a warrant out for your arrest because you violated bail when you left North Carolina. The police are coming for you. I suggest you just relax and wait with me."

"Sumter, you don't understand. I'm a dead man. Even if I'm in jail, I'm going to die. That book is not just about drugs."

"If it was that important, why did you keep it in a drawer in your house?"

"It was there only for a couple of days. It belongs to a friend and he asked me to keep it for him. He was tipped that a search warrant was being issued so I kept it for a few days."

"Just sit quietly like you are while we wait."

He stared straight ahead for at least a minute, obviously in deep thought. Even though it was very cool outside, he was perspiring. He never blinked as far as I could tell as he stared ahead.

"Can I reach in my pocket for a cell phone?" he asked. "I need to call my lawyer."

I cocked the hammer on my revolver and kept it pointed at his ear. "Okay, go ahead, slowly."

He reached in but quickly pulled out a small pistol. I jumped to my right to his backside just as one shot rang out. It happened so fast that I thought maybe I'd pulled the trigger. To this day, I don't know why I didn't. He shot himself under the chin and the bullet entered his brain. His limp body slumped forward onto the steering wheel.

When the shot rang out, Pam came running to me along with several travelers. She saw his body and immediately burst into tears, thinking I had shot him. When she learned the facts, she continue to cry as this was the first suicide she had seen. I held her for many long minutes as other travelers gathered around and waited with us for the authorities to come.

The Georgia State Police and emergency response teams began arriving in about ten minutes. It took three hours for our story to be told, all the reports to be completed, my revolver to be tested for recent firing, Cramer's pistol to be examined, the coroner to do his initial examination and the crime scene to be processed. Thankfully, my revolver was not an issue because it had not been fired and I had a conceal-carry permit that was valid in Georgia and Tennessee.

Once free to go, we returned to Chattanooga. The ride home was very quiet with short periods of Pam sobbing. She held my hand most of the way. Neither of us had an appetite so we sat in the family room in front of a burning fireplace and drank Woodford Reserve Bourbon until we were both drunk. Even as much as she hated him for what he did to her, she still felt great pain at his death.

We staggered to bed and crashed, totally wiped out.

****

Arriving at the farm around mid-afternoon on Thursday, we were met by Ruth and Janie on the porch. After hugs and kisses, we sat in the living room and visited.

Pam recounted the events of the previous day and a number of questions were asked and answered. Each of us speculated on the meaning of that black book. It would be months before we heard anything else about it. There was an article on the Charlotte Observer website that morning covering Cramer's suicide and recounting his previous arrest for drugs. Neither Pam nor I were mentioned, thank heavens.

Janie told us that she would be returning to LA Friday evening. Her company's jet was going to be in New York that day with several models doing a shoot. It would fly to Greenville and pick her up at 8:30 pm.

Pam and I were pleasantly surprised when Ruth announced that Janie had prepared dinner for us. She had baked individual beef Wellingtons with asparagus and risotto. I concluded after the meal that cooking ability must be genetic. How else could all three daughters be so good at it?

I didn't know if it was my wishful thinking or not, but it appeared to me that Ruth and Janie had taken major steps toward bonding, almost like they had never been separated. They deferred to each other and seemed very comfortable interacting. They even helped complete each other's sentences. Janie was starting to use Southern slang words and dialect and some of that New Jersey/California accent was even changing to the slower and more rounded tones of Southerners. Maybe her years in drama classes were showing results in her ability to speak with different inflections. I had never seen two women so happy together after meeting only four days earlier.

That evening, Janie joined us in Pam's bedroom and we sat on the bed and talked for a long time. She wanted to know more about me, my background and the restaurants. Janie also asked Pam dozens of questions about growing up and living on the farm. Pam asked her about the transition from student to model and how that happened.

Janie told us a summary of her story. "During my first year at UCLA, my girlfriend and I were at a bar one night. I know, we were underage but we had great fake ID's. A very fine looking young man was hitting on me, and I was interested. I'd always loved sex, and previous lovers always told me how beautiful and sexy I was. That gave me self-confidence and some guys really liked that in a girl.

"He invited me back to his apartment and I went. We had a great hookup and I liked him. After another date, he asked me about becoming an escort. Turned out he was recruiting for an executive escort service and wasn't so interested in me as he was my body as a business opportunity. After my initial shock of learning what he was really after, I listened. The kind of money he promised me just blew my mind. I had no idea people were willing to pay that much for sex.

"Several days later, I called him and said I would do one date just to see what it was like. The next day, he called me and told me where to meet the gentleman. He then asked me to pick a professional name as he didn't want to provide my real name to anyone. I thought for a few seconds and picked 'Niki' because I'd always liked that name, and I changed 'Li' to 'Lee.'

"Well, I had a great time. The gentleman was middle-aged and was so nice and gentle with me. We screwed for over an hour and he told me I was the best he ever had. I must have climaxed three or four times which I don't think he expected. He asked me to spend the night and I did. We bathed together, cuddled in bed during the night and had a marvelous breakfast that we prepared together. We did it again that morning. Turned out he was a studio executive and we talked for hours about acting as a profession.

"As I left, he surprised me with a $2000 tip and the service paid me $6000 for my appointment. In just one night, I made more money than I had made cumulatively in my entire life. I was dumbfounded and I thoroughly enjoyed the time with him.

"That was the beginning of my career. For the next three years, I went to school by day and slept with very rich men at night. Many of them were Hollywood stars or studio executives. Most were repeat customers and I was often invited to parties and to go on trips with them. I never had a problem with abuse or any of the problems prostitutes normally encounter. I guess when you're paying $10,000 and up per day, you don't abuse the merchandise. I also think that the guy who owned the agency was well placed and had major influence with the clients. I'm not saying he was mafia but he could have been from some things my clients said. Unfortunately, I never met him and don't even know his name. I found out later that in our agency, only six of us were getting that kind of money. There were maybe 35 to 40 working there.

"I was in high demand, often doing three dates a week and I saved everything except what I needed to spend on sexy clothes and food. I shared a small apartment with my girlfriend and we traded favors with the landlord for free rent. By the time I was 21, I had more than two million in the bank."

I asked, "How did you come to own a production company?"

"When I was 23, I had accumulated four million and began looking for opportunities to invest it. By then, I was doing photo shoots and video scenes. That was lucrative also and I enjoyed using my acting skills. The executive escorting was winding down as the agency only hired girls between 18 and 23 so I was getting old for them.

"I learned about the porn video business by being on the sets and listening to the director as he gave instructions to me, the cameramen, sound and lighting guys. I always did solos and girl-girl scenes. I've never done a boy-girl in front of a camera. I'm not a lesbian but I just didn't want to work with any of the guys in that business. They were really sleazy.

"The camera work sucked on many of the shoots and some of the help were so amateurish all they could do was stand there with their hard-ons and their tongues hanging out. Quality wise, it was really a two-bit industry making millions.

"I met a young director on one of the shoots who really knew what artistic porn should be. He insisted on professional cameramen, lighting and sound guys and used only the best HD equipment. He hired very sexy female and male actors. He paid more for the artists and crew but the websites paid more for his quality of work.

"I loved working for him. He was freelancing and I made him an offer to invest in his business. He took me up on it. We had a great relationship and he was very good in bed. I eventually bought him out and we expanded like crazy in 2008 and 2009. We put a company with four video crews in Eastern Europe and doubled our net. The girls over there are beautiful, love sex and work cheap. We're also establishing a company in Brazil to feature those lovely tanned ladies in Rio. I'll be flying down there in January for a couple of weeks to sign the final documents and interview the first round of models.

"My companies specialize in high definition glamorous sex. We use only the most attractive actors, both men and women, and we try to put the consumer so close to the action he or she could almost smell it. We want our consumers to hear the authentic sounds of sex and their actual moans and groans. Many of our models will have an orgasm on camera. But only an expert can tell a real one versus acting with most of the ladies we use.

"You remember that movie 'When Harry Met Sally' and Meg Ryan's character had the fake orgasm in the diner?" Janie asked with a broad smile.

I laughed and said, "That was funny." Pam hadn't seen the movie so I promised to show it to her later.