Somehow, Chrystal's head turned robotically in my direction as her mouth opened in a visible display of shock and awe.
"You." She mouthed putting a hand to her cheek. Before I could react, she was running directly at me with murderous intent only to be taken down by studio security.
"GET OFF ME; I'M GOING TO FUCK HIM UP!! I'M GONNA GET YOU FOR THIS, I SWEAR TO GOD!!" I was snatched up by the remaining security staff and escorted off the sound stage. Malaya Padilla had made good on her promise in dramatic detail earning a friend for life as she engineered Chrystal McIntyre's meltdown. I lost myself in the crowd before finding a hiding place in a public restroom. Malaya answered on the first ring.
"Can I cook, or can I cook, eh?"
"Fucking A, bitch; but you probably just got a hit put on me, for real." I felt the walls closing in considering the last twenty four hours of my life. The McIntyre's were going to rally the troops. I knew I supposed to be scared but I couldn't stop smiling.
"Have some faith, I know what I'm doing; you were going to be outed as a sexual offender this afternoon, so I did a surgical strike. I thought you 'd appreciate my work, babe. Just to let you know, Ms. Frakkes is going to be putting out a lot of fires, so she'll have to put you on the back burner. I sent her a little something just to be sure." This exotic woman was talking glibly about the shit storm she'd caused.
"I just have to ask; who are you, Malaya Padilla?"
"I already told you."
"Agent of Chaos, right?"
"You know it; it's time for you to come inside. Don't go back to your place; just go to the address texted." She hung up before I could say more. I managed to make it to the place I'd left my bike without incident twenty minutes later. I looked at the address sent knowing it was on the other side of downtown as I put on my helmet.
BAD M.I.L.F Volume 4-The New Batch Ch. 3
The address turned out to be a supposed youth hostel but had more in common with a flop house other than nice updated signage hanging outside the building. There were some unsavory types hanging outside that gave me pause but I wanted to talk to Malaya face to face and hash some things out. I needed to know what was really going on and what her stake in my personal matters. The interior of the lobby was remodeled sparsely with some youthful looking employees attending what amounted to a partial front desk connected to the staircase leading to the rooms on the upper four floors. It looked like someone's incomplete pet project with the employees milling about in blue uniform t-shirts as the only uniform element in their clothing that demonstrated a shared job. I went to the front desk asking for Malaya and was given a room key after showing my identification. The elevator still needed some work, shakily taking me up to my destination which was at the end of a short corridor. I noted the exposed brick wall and bits of drywall in corners along with an unattended push broom that legitimized my theory the place was a work in progress. All of the rooms were equipped with vin card readers that looked recently installed. The room, 4A was in front of me in moments as I stared around wondering if this was a trap of some sort. I figured that Malaya Padilla was unaffiliated with the McIntyre women, but was unsure at this point whether I really wanted to find out what her deal was, even as I pressed the key card against the door. The display on the key reader turned red denying me entrance. I pressed the card several more times before trying the door.
"Come inside." The door opened while I was trying it revealing some tall, redheaded guy with a buzz cut who looked a little old to be a student. He was dressed kind of nerdy in a navy blue members only jacket and skinny jeans cuffed 50's style over some Chuck Taylors.
"Uhm, I think I have the wrong room."
"You don't have the wrong room; Malaya left your stuff here." I didn't know what to make of the guy who looked like some geek but figured I could take him if shit went sideways.
"My stuff?"
"Yeah, she moved all of your remaining property from your apartment over here last night. Please, come inside; we don't need to talk in the hallway, I like discretion, sir."
"Uhm, sure, uh?"
"My name's Pete and this is my associate, Steve." I found a moderately sized room with a large window facing out towards the whole of the downtown area, a good sized bed, bathroom, walk-in closet and desk which was presently occupied by this short, fat guy dressed similarly to Pete. He was wearing a ballcap and some thick glasses giving me the distinct impression that he was trying to disguise his identity.
"Oh hi, try not to make any noise; I'm concentrating." He sounded a little rude, but I ignored his behavior turning back to Pete.
"Where is Malaya?"
"Busy, stirring the pot as she likes to put it; she will probably contact you later. All of your things are over by the bed if you would like to freshen up. We, Steve and I, have a bit more to do before we leave."
I noticed a few dirty milk crates on the floor next to the desk filled with assorted computer parts and other electronic equipment. There were discarded fast food boxes and containers on the floor near Steve's feet.
"What's going on here, what are you guys doing?"
"The job we were hired to do, sir. How did you like our work on that talk show this morning?"
"That was you guys!"
"Yes, Malaya gave us an opportunity that was hard to refuse. I take it you liked the narrative we injected into that talk show?"
"Where'd you get that footage?"
"Cloned phone provided by Malaya; she managed to secure Chrystal's I-Phone long enough to get the job done. She's very resourceful if you haven't figured that out yet." I looked over at Steve's monitor finding the screen filled with what looked like stock market figures.
"You guys are hackers?"
"We prefer contractors as a more acceptable term." Steve seemed agitated as his associate explained, turning in the swivel chair facing us.
"Fuck that nonsense, I want to know if its true that you been stuffing all of the thick broads in the McIntyre family? Is that really true or a load of bullshit?" The short, squat hacker looked of Greek descent, pointedly addressing me sounding like a hater.
"Yeah, it's true if that's any of your fucking business!" I felt like pasting him one in the nose for coming at me like a jerk. Pete raised a calming hand between us, deescalating the situation.
"Sorry, Steve is not trying to offend you. It's that he has somewhat of a vested entrance in the situation as a whole. He uhm, finds the McIntyre family, appealing."
"Huh?" Before I could get some answers there was some light rapping at the door. Pete and Steve seemed distracted with him motioning for me to be quiet as he went to the peep hole in the door. The tall, ginger male relaxed considerably opening the door revealing a third person, some Latin woman, probably of Mexican descent on the other side of the door. I could see over Pete's shoulder that the decidedly tired looking woman was wearing this blue, Kangol bucket hat that kind of made her prominent hook nose stand out. Her eyes appeared half opened which also made the unknown woman look perpetually tired or slow.
"I have food." She declared casually sounding as slow as she looked.
"I hope its not Indian food again; that crap gave me the runs last time; I really hate that shit." Steve relaxed pushing out from the desk revealing a more prominent gut. The empty food boxes and containers spilling out of the waste basket were solely attributed to him in my eyes.
"Burgers, pizza and some of the health food for Pete." She recounted in an almost monotone manner entering the room carrying two large plastic bags of assorted junk food.
"Thanks Daniela."
She stepped into the room appearing to be about five foot four in height, wearing a similar jacket as Steve and Pete but I doubted she was a hacker or "Agent of Chaos" like these guys or Malaya. Her dark hair was smooth and silky descending from under the Kangol past her shoulders. My eyes dipped low going wide and my mouth involuntarily hung open. Her hips were abnormally wide, appearing from under the oversized jacket spectacularly.
"Oh, you have friend, here."
"He's just a guy we're helping out; not a "Friend" Daniela." Steve replied tersely dripping of jealousy that was impossible not to notice.
"Not friend?"
"He's kind of a client, Daniela; let me take those off your hands." Pete took the bags placing them on the table, but Steve was eyeballing me. I kept him in my peripheral view still looking down at the woman's outstanding hips. She was wearing some daisy duke shorts hidden by the hem of the member's only jacket. The exposed pockets were the only clue as I took in her incredibly thick, shapely legs and smallish feet covered only in a pair of cheap looking flipflops.
"He look like friend to me." Both guys glanced at one another, possibly alarmed at her robotic statement.
"I am Daniela. I am what is call, intern with Pete and Steve." She offered her hand, but Steve stepped in front of her taking it instead.
"This is separate from what we all normally do; we're just making a little extra money on the side, Daniela." I looked at both guys, internally insulted to the gills, noticing a look of desperation on Steve's face in particular. Considering that I'd just seen the results of them hacking into a local television station, I didn't want to make any enemies here.
"I think you and Steve are being mean. I don't like it." Her words were still robotic sounding, but her meaning was clear as Steve stood up accidentally knocking the chair over. I kept quiet trying to gauge the relationship in front of me. Daniela glanced over at Steve who fumbled clumsily righting the swivel chair.
"Remember, we told you that sometimes we have other work that we do; it's not being mean at all Daniela. It's not like our business, okay?"
"But he look like our business."
