by Vicky Jones
Chloe bit the insides of her cheeks, her thoughts clattering into each other like fireflies on a warm summer's night.
"My goodness, it's so late, I'd better be getting to my hotel."
It was nearly 10 o'clock when Chloe finally checked her watch, after being completely engrossed all evening in Dorothy's tales about Shona. She rose off the worn, gray armchair and offered her arm to help the old lady as she struggled on her walking stick.
"It's been an absolute pleasure talking to you. You're one special lady. If there's anything I can help with–" Chloe said.
Dorothy walked up to her, touching Chloe's elbow softly. "There is somethin' I'd like very much–" she began. "I'd like to have your company again, maybe tomorrow?"
"I'd love that. Shall I bring anything?"
"Just yourself, that's more than enough," the old lady replied.
As she reached the front door, Chloe turned back and smiled.
"Shona really talks about me in her letters?" Her cheeks reddened.
"You've been in every one since she started working there. I was hoping I'd meet you one day, to see what all the fuss was about!" Dorothy winked playfully at Chloe. "Thinks a lot of you, she does. She wouldn't make somethin' as special as that pretty necklace for just anyone!"
The old lady's blue eyes twinkled.
The next evening, as promised, Chloe returned to Dorothy's house. She spent hours chatting with the old lady and reminiscing about Shona, but when she finally plucked up the courage to ask Dorothy to tell her the story about the basement, she broke down in tears hearing in graphic detail what Shona had gone through.
As it was almost time to get back to her hotel again, Chloe remembered she had one more thing she wanted to ask.
"Sweetheart, of course you can see Shona's room."
"You sure that would be OK?"
"Yes, dear, I haven't changed a thing. Come on up."
Dorothy struggled with the rickety stairs as they made their way up, then along the landing.
"Here it is," she announced, opening the old wooden door. On the wall, Chloe saw pictures of mountains, beaches and rivers. Shona loved the outdoors and it was evident to see why. How could anyone feel trapped if they had the open plains to look at every night?
One picture immediately caught her eye, not least as it was the one nearest to her pillow and had the most pin holes in it, the sharp corners of the card now blunt. It was of a little white beach house with cornflower blue window shutters and a white painted veranda. It sat beside the bluest of oceans, the clear water lapping against the golden yellow sand.
"May I?"
Dorothy smiled as she watched Chloe sit down on Shona's bed. She held her palm flat against the soft covers, knowing Shona had laid there in the dark of the night confused and feeling so alone in the world. The nightmares Dorothy told her about earlier that evening sliced through her thudding heart like a hot knife. The times Dorothy had woken to hear Shona's anguished screams and rushed in to comfort her. Chloe's eyes brimmed with angry tears as she felt Shona's heartache channel up through her flattened palm.
"I'll give you a moment," Dorothy said, shuffling out onto the landing and down to her little bedroom.
Chloe recoiled as she sat up and looked at her watch, astounded to see that she had spent forty of the quickest minutes of her life in Shona's room.
"Will you stay the night? It's been a long time since I had company in this house. It's too quiet." Dorothy appeared in the doorway.
Without needing to think it over, Chloe agreed on the spot.
"You can sleep in here if you like?"
She stood up and gratefully wrapped her arms around the old lady.
"Can you put me through to Miss Chloe Bruce's room, please? It's her father. What? What do you mean? Can’t you tell me anything useful at all?"
Bruce growled as he slammed the phone down and drummed his heavy fingers on his office desk.
"What is it? Where is she?" Kyle frowned.
"Apparently, she came back briefly yesterday afternoon, got her things and then left."
"So where in the goddamn hell did she spend the night? And who with?"
Kyle banged his fist on the desk.
Chapter 59
"Hello? Yeah? Simms, how are you?" Bruce spoke loudly into the phone.
"Hey, Larry. Listen, m'wife told me she loved the fete, great event and all, but she said she caught sight of that damn colored you got workin’ for ya 'round back of the stables. Damn son’bitch knows what my lil' girl looks like now. I'm scared for her safety. What if he sees her in town? I'm sorry, Larry, but I just can't see me investing in your business after all. It sends out the wrong message havin' coloreds representin' us, y'hear what I'm saying, Larry?" Tony Simms's voice echoed down the receiver.
"You know it's Ellis who’s the stumbling block; he wants to give 'em all a chance. I want to send them back where they belong, so you can see my dilemma here. You and me, we're on the same page, Tony."
Bruce ran a hand through his thinning hair, trying to convince one of the richest men in Daynes not to take his money elsewhere.
"I understand what you're saying, Larry. Ellis is the past, just biding his time and all. I know his wife ain't well, so he won't want none of this bullshit! But I don't wan' be associated with giving work to no coloreds. Until then, I'll be holding back on my investment. I’m sorry.”
"Tony, I hear you. You have my word. I'll deal with the situation. You understand me, don't you?" Bruce clenched his fist.
"Look, let me know if anything changes, OK?"
Bruce slammed the phone down and glared at Kyle.
"We need to deal with the nigger. Once and for all.”
Kyle nodded compliantly, a sly smile creeping across his handsome face.
"I got an idea."
"Damn it!"
Shona cursed as she dropped the last of her clean cloths into a pile of oil on the ground by one of the trucks. It was Wednesday morning, and she hadn't seen Chloe for a couple of days now.
Why isn't she back from Mississippi yet?
Inside, she was terrified. The longer Chloe was away, the more the coyotes lurked, watching and waiting. Shona and Cuban needed her there to protect them.
"Cuban, y'got any more o'these over there?" She held up the oily cloth.
"Nope, but I got a coupla clean ones in my locker you're more than welcome to."
"Great, thanks. Hey, Cuban…you're a real pal, y'know that?"
"Well, lil' lady, the feeling is entirely mutual! I just got to unload this delivery or Deputy Paul will be on my ass! Here’s my key. They're at the back on the right."
Shona made her way into the cramped cupboard space, immediately taken aback by the pungent smell of damp. Cuban definitely did have the worst of everything, but before she left for Mississippi, Chloe had at least seen to it that the random locker searches inflicted on him had been put to an end and, finally, he had been given a new one.
Shona opened his locker and gasped, coming face to face with a picture of Cuban's wife and children stuck to the inside of the door. She ran a careful finger over it and smiled; they truly were a fine looking family. Mindful of not invading Cuban's valuable privacy too much, she resisted the urge to go through his personal effects and reached back to the right to feel for the spare cloths she’d come for.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" A gravelly voice pierced the silence.
Shona spun around. Kyle stood before her, his venomous, jet black eyes pulsating through her head. He was holding two bottles of beer, a Rolex watch and an expensive-looking flick-knife.
"Me? It's you that ain't got any right to be in here!" Shona stuck out her chin and raised herself up to her full height.
"Get the fuck out an' get back to work, do you hear me?" Kyle whispered, the shadow of his six-foot frame looming over her as he approached.
"Not until you tell me what y'doing in Cuban's changing space!"
"This is no concern to you, so get the
fuck out!"
Kyle put the bottles and watch on the side, then clicked the tiny release catch on the hilt of the flick-knife. Shona's blood ran ice cold as she saw the four-inch blade coming towards her. Before she could react, Kyle thrust his left hand out to cover her mouth as the knife in his right was then held to her neck. With her feet almost completely off the ground as he pinned her up against the wall, she gasped a large, muffled intake of breath.
"Do you understand me now, bitch? When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. But then again, I heard that you weren’t wired up in the head right, so you don’t listen, do ya!" He squeezed Shona's mouth shut even tighter as she squirmed.
"It's a real shame you walked in on me just now. Planting a few items of interest in Cuban's locker would've been a real neat plan. I go to Ellis, say he's been stealin' and off he goes. He won't last more than ten fucking minutes in this town. But you? You have to be there, getting in my way…again!"
Kyle lowered the knife from her neck and began to press it into Shona’s stomach. She winced, waiting to feel the blade pierce her denim shirt.
"You won't get away with this." She forced the words through his closed palm, tears streaming down her blood-red cheeks.
"Really? Why's that? Because Ellis is gon' save you? He's out of town today. And Chloe? She's out of town too. Left you all alone 'cause she thought I was playin' nice with you now! Hi Shona, how's your day? That's all I had to say to convince her you'd be safe!"
Kyle was enjoying every sordid minute of Shona's torture, glaring into her incandescent blue eyes as they blazed pure hatred at him, the whites started to fill with blood.
"It's so easy for me! All I have to do is put these things in his locker and conduct a random search. Chloe won't be around to save him this time." Kyle's sweaty face pushed in closer to Shona's, his grip tightening.
"You're a fucking animal." She tried to free herself, knowing any moment he could plunge his knife deep into her. Spots formed in front of her eyes as she struggled to stay conscious, desperately gulping for air.
Whistling absent-mindedly, Randy rounded the corner by the canteen when a loud crashing sound drew his attention away from the sandwich he was picturing. He carried on walking until he heard it again. Curious, he followed the trail of noise, leading him into the small room Cuban used as a locker space. Opening the door, he stopped, horrified by the scene he’d stumbled across.
"Woah, what's going on here?"
"Help me, Randy! PLEASE!" Shona could barely breathe, her boot limply kicking against the locker to hopefully raise the alarm.
"Mr. Chambers, sir?"
"Randy, this is no business of yours. Now turn around and don't say a word, understand?" Kyle glared at him.
"No, Randy, please," Shona begged, rapidly losing her strength as Kyle clamped his hand over her mouth tighter.
"Shut the fucking door, Randy!" he snarled.
Shona was powerless as the cold steel of the knife pressed harder into her soft flesh. Randy stared blankly at her for a moment, then, to her complete horror, turned and left, shutting the door firmly behind him.
"Now there's nobody here that knows, or cares, what the fuck happens to you. You're a white nigger lover, which makes you quite unpopular. Mixed with that, those rumors 'bout you–" He sneered at her as he lifted his eyes upwards over her heavy toe-capped boots, baggy work pants, then lingered on her tight-fitting white undershirt, through her now-open denim shirt.
"You know nothing about me," Shona seethed through her tears.
"What frustrates me is you're actually quite pretty for a…well, what the guys say you are! When you first arrived, you drove them nuts! They put bets on who would get to fuck you first! But they tell me that not one of them can fix a date with you! You’re not interested in any of 'em! My guys not good enough for you, bitch? Fuck, I bet you ain't never even been with a guy…or have you?"
He moved his left hand from over her mouth and caressed her neck roughly, his booze-soaked breath getting noticeably heavier and deeper the more aroused he was getting.
"I'll be honest. It's driving me crazy I haven't fucked you already! Women throw themselves at me day in, day out–but you didn't and I ain't used to that. You know what, though? I just can't help but wonder what it feels like to fuck you! You secretly wonder the same about me, don'tcha?"
He pressed his nose against the side of her face, his left hand now cupping her breast, his right still holding the knife against her stomach as she felt him get hard up against her.
"Go fuck yourself," Shona spat back at him.
"Oh, it’s like that, is it? Y'know it actually turns me on more when I gotta work for it!"
"Cuban! CUBAN!" Randy raced over, as fast as his squat legs could shift his bulk.
"You OK, Randy?"
"Cuban. Your locker room. You need to go. Now," he blurted out between rasping breaths.
"What? What you talkin' 'bout?"
"Your girl's in there…with Kyle. She needs you. NOW!"
Cuban dropped the box he was carrying and ran as fast as he could.
"Come on, Shona, put your hand on me. You wanna touch it, don’t you?" Kyle was grunting heavily in Shona's ear, but her lack of oxygen from his hand over her mouth minutes before had sapped her strength.
She couldn't fend him off any longer.
"I've waited a long time for this. C’mon, undo my pants and feel how much you’ve got me goin’ here!" He held her limp hand against the front of his pants and manipulated her fingers around the buttons, then onto his fly, groaning as he felt it unzip. "Just relax. If you let me fuck you, you'll keep your job and I won't say a thing."
"Get the FUCK off her, you animal!" Cuban roared, nearly kicking the door off its hinges.
Kyle spun around, losing his grip on Shona who slid to the ground.
"Trust me, for your own sake, walk away. Now!" His eyes were fixed on Cuban, daring him to make his next move.
"Shona, you OK?" Cuban called out, his eyes wild. She nodded weakly.
"I'm warning you. I will fuck you up! GET OUT!"
He pinned Shona back against the wall, sliding his left hand under the waistband of her pants. She looked over his shoulder at Cuban, her eyes pleading for him to help her.
Cuban needed no encouragement. He'd wanted to unleash his strength on Kyle for weeks, and now, with Shona at his mercy, he was unstoppable. Launching himself at Kyle, his hands clawed at his suit jacket, almost ripping it off his back. He tossed him to the cold stone floor like a rag doll, the flick-knife he’d been holding in his right hand clattering to the ground. Cuban reached down for it, but Kyle twisted his torso and got to it first, wrapping his fingers around the ivory handle of the knife. With his other hand, he gripped Cuban's standing leg and, with a mighty heave, plunged the blade deep into his ankle.
As he screamed out in pain, Cuban’s legs buckled underneath his massive frame. Blood spurted out of the wound almost instantly, his peroneal artery severed. Kyle twisted the knife sadistically, scraping it against the bone and glaring at Cuban's wide-eyed, anguished face. The white-hot pain was blistering. Through her blurry vision, Shona could see her best friend writhing on the ground and holding his ankle tightly, the blood draining out fast.
Kyle dragged himself up off the floor, Cuban's sticky red blood perilously close to smudging on his expensive gray flannel suit. He straightened his jacket and saw to his open fly. Shona lay propped up against the wall, dazed and exhausted.
"Jeez, darlin', you sure do know how to make a guy work for it. You better be good!"
He wiped his mouth with the back of his bloody hand and swaggered back over to her, the adrenaline coursing through his veins and arousing him more.
As Kyle stepped over him, Cuban stuck out his uninjured ankle, taking his legs from underneath him and dumping him in a heap on the ground for the second time.
"What the…YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
He reached out to grab Cuban, but the bigger man dodged out of the way and
struggled to his feet. Balancing on one leg, he stood over Kyle, the pain slicing through him.
"NO, CUBAN! Leave him! Just go…RUN!”
Shona knew he only had a head start of a few minutes at best. Once Kyle raised the alarm, Cuban didn't have a hope in hell.
"I can't leave you. I won't leave you," he yelled back.
"I order you, GO!" She screamed with all the fight she could muster, dragging her shattered body as far away from Kyle as she could manage.
But he was no longer interested in her.
"HELP! SOMEBODY, PLEASE HELP ME! GODDAMN IT! THE NIGGER'S GOT ME!"
Kyle's strangled, begging voice was incongruous to the psychopathically calm and still man who was lying on the floor, unimpeded, calling for help. Cuban's heart stopped when he realized his intention.
Within seconds, the stomping of boots thundered outside the room. Confused cries reverberated along the corridor as the men asked each other if they had heard that shout.
"You better run! This'll be a pleasure to them when I tell 'em what you did!"
Kyle's voice was eerily calm, his mission almost accomplished.
"Cuban…RUN!" Shona ordered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
As their eyes met for the last time, a moment of profound sadness and regret passed between them. They knew deep down that this day was always going to come. All plans for the future were just pipe dreams.
They knew it was goodbye.
Outside the room, Cuban moved as fast as he could in the opposite direction to the approaching lynch mob, heavy drops of blood trailing behind him as he hobbled along.
Kyle clambered to his feet, waited until the angry crowd passed him down the corridor, then turned the opposite way to find the nearest telephone.
"Larry, it's me. Call the boys now! It's time."
