Candy sighs.
“I want to buy a car.” Poppet’s bed squeaks as she sits up. Because there’s no window, and therefore no light, I can’t really see her, but I imagine she’s smiling. “It has to be black and have a red leather interior. Oh, and I want a double racing stripe that goes down the hood. You know what I’m talking about, right?”
I grin. “I know what you’re talking about.”
“Jeez,” Candy says. “Will you two can it? We have to be up in seven hours.”
Poppet’s bed squeaks again. “What are you working toward, Candy? You’ve never told me.”
“That’s because all I want in this life is seven hours of sleep. God knows I’ll never get that with you as my roommate.”
I bite my lip and decide to back Poppet up. “I’d like to know, too.”
“Like I care,” Candy spits.
“Come on, Candy,” Poppet urges.
“Yeah, come on, Candy.” Even though Candy is mean-spirited, she wasn’t one of the girls who booed Poppet tonight, and it almost feels like we’re sisters in here, whispering our secrets.
There’s a long pause before Candy says anything. When she does, Poppet and I don’t make a sound. “I’d like a boyfriend, okay? And that’s not something you can buy. But once I have enough money, I can leave and meet someone. He’ll want to be with me because I’ll have nice dresses and money to take care of my hair and nails. Stuff guys care about. Then I won’t have to listen to the two of you say idiotic crap while I’m trying to sleep.”
I lick my lips and think about how to respond. “Candy, you don’t need those things for someone to want to be your boyfriend.”
“Shut the hell up, Domino,” she growls. “What do you know?”
“Nothing,” I admit for the second time tonight. “Absolutely nothing.”
Poppet lies back down, or at least I think she does. “You sure there’s nothing you want, Minnow?”
“Did you just call me Minnow?” I ask.
She giggles. “Yeah, because you’re small.”
“And because you’re the bottom feeder in this pond.” There’s amusement in Candy’s voice. “Even the frogs that come into this place are better than minnows, Minnow.”
“Yeah, that’s great.” I lie on my twin bed and stare at the ceiling. Then—because I know I’ll be leaving soon and what does it matter?—I tell them what I’ve only ever told Dizzy. “I’d like to get a place of my own.”
“Fat chance,” Candy says.
Heat rushes into my cheeks, and I clinch my eyes against the sting. I knew she’d probably react that way, but it hurts all the same.
“How do you know she can’t get a place of her own?” Poppet asks Candy.
“Because I had a place of my own, and I know how hard it was to get there.”
I open my eyes and turn my head toward her. “What do you mean?”
Now it’s Candy who sits up. She seems more encouraged by the conversation since the focus is on her. “Listen, to even think of getting a place, you gotta have cash up front. And not just for rent, but for the deposit.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I hang on every word she says. “And this is to buy a house?”
Candy laughs, and then stifles the sound. No doubt she fears the wrath of Mercy. “A house? Are you crazy? People like us don’t buy houses. I’m talking about an apartment, dipstick. Though I guess you could rent a house, too. That’s beside the point. You’ll never make enough here to do either of those things. And Poppet, hate to break it to you, but a car with red leather interior? That’s not happening, either.”
“How much is a deposit?” I push.
Candy falls back on her bed with a dramatic groan. “I don’t know, Minnow. Maybe five hundred bucks if you got a cheap place. And before you ask, rent would be that much, too. You have to pay the first month in full before you walk in the door. Then there are deposits to turn your electricity and water on. So that’s at least twelve hundred bucks. You starting to figure this out in that little brain of yours? Not. Happening.”
“Well, how much do we make each night here?” I ask. “How much do we get per bronze coin?”
Candy rolls over, and because my eyes have adjusted, I can see that her back is to me.
I chew the inside of my cheek and think about what she said for the next half hour. Twelve hundred dollars. That’s nearly three times what I need to spring Dizzy from jail. Still, once I get him out maybe we could both work here and earn twice as much. All the entertainers are girls, but the madam employs some guys. There’s Eric and Cain and Mr. Hodge that I know of.
I turn toward Poppet, whose breathing has deepened. “You’ll get that car,” I whisper to her sleeping frame. “I believe in you.”
“Don’t do that,” Candy says, startling me. “Don’t you dare get her hopes up.”
I’m too surprised that Candy’s still awake to reply, so I settle back into my fresh sheets and pillow and try to find sleep of my own. When I finally succeed, I’m plagued by dreams of a quiet boy covered in blood, tired of remaining silent when he’d rather scream instead.
He asks me if I’m tired, too.
Chapter Fifteen
Hydration
I wake to a hand over my mouth, fingers clutching my shoulders, my legs, my arms. I’m lifted from bed and dragged into the hall. When I realize what’s happening, I kick and scream, the sound muffled, but it’s no use. There are five Carnations against one measly Minnow and this won’t end well.
Mercy tells the girls to drop me when we reach the bathroom.
I land hard on my right hip and Mercy holds a finger to her lips. “If you yell again, we’ll make your life a living hell. Got it?”
I nod, because I don’t know what else to do. But already—so quickly it causes my head to spin—Wilson is rousing. I can vow to stay quiet, but I make no such promises where he’s concerned.
Raquel steps forward. Her neck appears even longer as I look up at her from the floor.
A nice neck for the gurney.
“If you want to be one of us, you have to be initiated.” Raquel looks at Mercy, and Mercy grins. The two girls have their differences, but on this point they agree.
Mercy motions toward a third girl, the only one who is barefoot. Her toenails are painted blue, and she has a glass in her hand. The girl disappears into a toilet stall. There’s a plunking sound and then she reappears, the glass brimming with water.
“I don’t want to be one of you,” I say when I get where this is headed.
Raquel’s face softens like she’s sympathetic. “Oh, sweetie, of course you do. Now drink up.”
Barefoot girl crouches down and offers the glass. I shake my head, but she shoves it into my hand anyway. After getting to my feet, I stride toward the sink, my hands sweating. There’s no way I’m drinking toilet water, and what’s more, I know doing so won’t stop their bullying. Still, knowing this doesn’t stop the anxiety from building in my chest.
The fourth and fifth girls block my path. “Drink up,” one says.
“Yeah, drink up,” Mercy adds.
Raquel pumps her fists. “Drink, bitch, drink!”
“Drink,
Drink,
Drink!”
Their voices blend together until it’s one solid wall of sound. I can’t escape it, and I can’t escape them. I drop the glass, and it skitters across the floor unbroken. When I make for the door, Raquel grabs me by the hair. It’s the same move I wanted to pull on her earlier. My wig comes off in her hand. “Oh, for crying out loud,” she says before reaching for me again. This time her fingers find purchase. “Back on your knees, pig!”
“Oink, oink!” the girls chant.
“Get more water,” Mercy instructs the girl with blue toenails. She obeys and scurries toward Mercy, slipping once on the water covering the floor. “Now,” Mercy tells me. “You can drink this yourself. Or we can make you. Which will it be?”
“Why are you doing this?” My teeth
chatter from shock. I concentrate on select emotions—sadness, fear, surprise—because if I think about the other ones…
—Anger, rage, fury, Wilson whispers—
…I won’t be able to control him. And though these girls deserve to be put in their place, they don’t deserve what Wilson will bring. So, no, I won’t drink that water.
“I see how this is going to go.” One of the girls grabs my real hair and yanks my head back while another pries open my mouth. I close my eyes and consider calling for help. But if the madam hears me, what will happen? Will she assume I’m to blame? It’s five girls’ stories against mine.
By accident, the girl with the blue toenails slips a ring finger into my mouth. She was only trying to pry my lips apart, but now it’s there, fat and plump and pink on my tongue. Wilson says it once, fast and hungry—
Bite down!
No, I tell him. I won’t!
Fine, he says, shrugging. Then I will.
My teeth come down on her finger, and she howls with pain. Her scream tears through me, puts Wilson back to bed, and brings me—Domino the Gentle—back to the forefront. I open my mouth, and she rips her hand back.
“That’s it.” Raquel grabs my throat and squeezes. It isn’t enough to really hurt, but it’s a promise of something more, and I’m terrified of what will happen if it comes to her and me in a full-on fight. “Open. Your. Mouth.”
I’m shaking from head to foot, and tears are slipping down my cheeks, tainting Dizzy’s shirt.
“We won’t leave until you do.” I can tell that she means it. That this will grow increasingly violent until someone gets seriously injured.
Won’t be us, Wilson whispers from his bed.
Quiet!
I pull in one long, shuddering breath, and Mercy skips in place. She knows I’m going to do it.
“Give me the water,” Raquel tells the girl whose finger I bit.
“There isn’t much left,” the girl replies. “God, she really bit me. I probably have rabies.”
“Shut up.” Raquel reaches for the glass, one hand still on my throat. The girl hands it to her. “Open up, deary.”
I fill my head with things that are good: crunchy leaves falling from trees and a green lizard hiding in a lilac bush. Ducks eating bread thrown from my hand and a train speeding down its tracks, both wild and contained at once. Also, my father. My father shaving his patchy beard and spreading butter on my half-burned toast. My father watching the Patriots play, pointing his hot dog at the screen to make a point the ref can’t hear.
My father, there.
My father, gone.
I think of him, because I cannot think of my mother.
I open my mouth, and the water rushes down my throat. One full swallow before I gag and spit out the remainder. Lukewarm liquid rushes over my cheeks and washes away my tears. It swims in my eyes and shoots up my nose, stinging. Above everything else, here’s what I think: it tastes the same as water from the sink.
And then Mercy grabs my chin and lifts my face to hers. “Stay away from our clients.”
The girl with blue painted toenails throws the rest of the water across my chest, drenching Dizzy’s shirt. I’m not sure why, but that’s the thing that pushes me over the edge. I jump to my feet, deciding in a careless moment that I’ll let Wilson free. There are other ways of making money, and I don’t need this. What’s more, I’m positive I’m not the only one they’ve done this to.
When the girls see the look on my face, they sober.
I take two steps toward them, quick, my brain buzzing with nothingness, and then I slip on the wet floor. I fall onto my injured side, and my hip sings with pain.
The girls roll with laughter.
They laugh all the way to the far wall, where they flip the light switch and leave me in the dark. They laugh all the way to their beds as Wilson edges closer.
You almost let me come out, he chances.
I don’t answer him because he’s right, and there’s nothing I can say to convince him or me otherwise. I almost caved. I almost blacked out. I almost let Wilson do my bidding.
Maybe I should have.
Chapter Sixteen
Fists of Silence
The next morning, I debate whether to tell Madam Karina what happened. In the end, I go with my earlier instinct and decide against it. Maybe it’s because I don’t want her to think I’m a problem, or maybe it’s because I don’t like relying on others to solve my problems. Either way, I stay quiet. But I do broach the subject with Poppet once Candy has left the room.
“The other Carnations are giving me a hard time,” I admit.
Poppet has her back to me, but I don’t miss the way she flinches. “It doesn’t mean they don’t like you.”
“That’s exactly what it means.”
She turns and faces me, tucks a curl behind her ear. “It takes time for them to warm up to new girls.”
“It seems like more than that.”
“Well…”
I flop down on my bed. “Well, what? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Poppet glances to the doorway like Mercy might be listening. When she’s sure the girls are in the kitchen, she says, “The last girl who was here caused trouble for the madam. She had to leave. And I guess Madam Karina made a big show of saying she’d never bring in another girl unless she found someone perfect. Used to be girls came and went all the time. Least that’s what I heard. But it had been almost a year and no one.”
My eyes widen. “Until me.”
“She must see something special in you.” Poppet smiles past a blush. “I see it, too. You’re nice. And pretty.”
Though I despise that word, it doesn’t cut as deeply coming from Poppet’s mouth. “You think the girls are really worried I’ll steal their clients?”
“Some of them. But I think most of us dream of something different.”
My brow furrows. “What’s that?”
“Top Girl. Highest of the Violets.”
There’s that title again. “What does the Top Girl get that others don’t?”
“They bank all their profits, for one.” Poppet gathers toiletries into a basket. “And I guess there are other things.”
“Such as?”
Poppet shrugs. “You work with Madam Karina on Sundays. And some girls say this place will be left to the Top Girl when Madam Karina gets too old to run the joint.”
My fingertips tingle with excitement. “You mean Top Girl will actually own this house one day?”
“Yep. Course the madam would want it to stay an entertainment center because of the competitive thing she’s got with her sister. But I guess whoever inherits the house would decide that.”
I hear the part about Madam Karina’s sibling rivalry, but that’s not what I focus on. Candy told me last night I’d need twelve hundred dollars to rent an apartment, or maybe a house. But Poppet is telling me that this house, the very floors beneath my feet, is up for grabs. What’s more, this house is a source of income, and many of these girls could benefit from a leader who ensures everyone is treated kindly and equally.
Maybe this house could serve as a sandwich shop, or a piano bar, or a bed and breakfast. I wonder how far we are from the town center of Pox.
“You’ve got a crazy look in your eyes.” Poppet giggles before remembering my original question. “Why do you think the girls are picking on you? Did something happen?”
“No, nothing.” I hesitate. “Poppet, why do the girls stay here? What do they really want?”
Poppet curls a lock of frizzy hair around her finger. “Most of us don’t have anywhere else to go, for starters.” She lowers her voice. “But I think the real reason we stay is the madam. She’s kind, and she cares about us, and who doesn’t want to live with someone who believes in them? When Eric found me and brought me to meet her, I just knew I wanted to work for her. You know she told me that I reminded her of a dandelion? Said I was a girl you could pin wishes on.”
I smile.<
br />
“It’s this place, too, I guess. It’s easy to forget about my life before when every night is a celebration.” Poppet brushes invisible crumbs off her T-shirt. “We should get cleaned up before breakfast. The other girls usually shower after assignments, but because it’s Sunday, there aren’t any. So we should get in before they do.” Poppet eyes my silver wig and the bags under my eyes. “You can borrow some of my stuff, and later today when market opens you can get some of your own.” And then, quieter, she adds, “If you want.”
I swallow the emotion in my throat. Poppet does a lot for me, and I’ve done so little in return. “That’d be great. Thank you.”
After bathing with some of Poppet’s body wash, I towel off and put on a fresh shirt and shorts. Poppet even lends me a pair of flip-flops that are two sizes too big, but somehow feel perfect on my feet.
As we walk toward the kitchen, I drill Poppet about market and what exactly it is.
“You’ll see.” She beams. “Oh, and after breakfast we’ll find out placements.”
“What’s that?” I ask, but Poppet has already darted to the table we sat at yesterday morning. Now that I’ve spent a day here, I know these are only the Carnation girls. The others that live on the second and third stories, the Daisies and Tulips, usually eat at different times.
I take my seat and, when I look up, Cain holds my eye. I have no idea why, but I find myself smiling. It’s like we both broke a house rule last night, sneaking out back, smoking cigarettes and lounging in plastic chairs beneath a smoldering summer moon. And now, well, now we’re criminals in cahoots.
Cain doesn’t smile back, but he does hold my gaze for a moment longer before picking up two plates and walking toward Poppet and me. When he sets mine down, his arm brushes the outside of mine. It doesn’t cause goose bumps to race across my skin or cause me to fantasize about what he looks like beneath his low-slung jeans. But I don’t shrink away from his touch either, which for me is intimacy with a capital I.
Poppet stares at the inside of my forearm with a question she doesn’t ask. It makes me like her even more for not asking. Just because I don’t try to cover up the Xs trailing from elbow to wrist, doesn’t mean I want it to spark a conversation.
Violet Grenade Page 8
