Violet Grenade

by Victoria Scott

  “Ooh, let her draw a surprise,” Poppet squeals.

  The boy sucks a syrupy brown drink through a striped straw. “Whatever you think,” he says after he’s swallowed.

  Poppet sits him down on a beanbag and snuggles in close. “Tell me everything there is to know about you.”

  For the next two hours, I draw and Poppet laughs with such zeal that other customers begin to wander over. When I see girls giving us dirty looks, I warn them with a scowl that says I’ll do to them what I did to Mercy. They don’t call my bluff, and soon we have two customers lounging on the beanbags instead of one.

  Cain watches from the bar. For a second, my attention to my sketchpad wavers, and I think about how he looked at me this morning. When he saw Mercy’s face, he eyed me like he somehow knew I was to blame. I wonder if he’s repulsed by my behavior. Maybe he’s the kind of guy who likes dainty girls who don’t mark their own skin and attack people.

  To each his own.

  “May I join you?”

  I glance up and see the blond guy with the dangerous dimple. He’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the room. My eyes return to his ring finger, but I smile as best I can and nod toward the beanbags.

  He plops down in a red leather one and Styrofoam pebbles shoot out the side.

  “I’m not married anymore,” he says, causing my face to flush.

  I return my gaze to my sketch. “I didn’t ask.”

  Poppet gasps and slaps me on the arm. “I’m sorry. She’s not feeling well tonight.”

  “You saw where I wore my ring,” he pushes playfully. “Thought I was a dirtbag, right?”

  I’m drawing a picture of the two dudes sitting on either side of Poppet. Now I try to work the new guy in. He’s all hard lines, except for his face, which is velvet soft. “I wasn’t looking.”

  “She passed away seven months ago,” he announces.

  I stop drawing, and Poppet practically crawls into his lap. “Oh, my gosh. How terrible. Tell us about her,” she insists.

  I would never have thought to ask the man about his wife. It seems like a touchy topic, but Poppet is brazen. The man smiles as he speaks about how they met, and even the other guys listen in on the story. Poppet ensures everyone is involved in the conversation.

  Once, as the guy is speaking, a Carnation storms over, her lips pursed in frustration. I shoot to my feet and stare her down until she loses her nerve and returns to the other side of the room. I motion for Poppet to keep the guys talking, and when the night is all but over, we retain their attention.

  I show them my finished illustration—three guys who look like the best of friends being adored by a beautiful girl—and the guests praise my work. Poppet asks them to pick a number to see who keeps it, and makes them promise to return this weekend.

  Bronze coins fall into slots, and we start to clean up. Before long, Mercy will call for us to get ready for bed, and a new day will dawn. But for now, there’s something I want to do. It’s been too long since I tasted the night air, and I’m craving a real conversation, one without borders or false pretenses. So when backs are turned, I slip out of the entertainment room and from there the front door.

  I count to thirty before the door opens a second time, and Cain appears. I nod toward the back of the house.

  He follows without a sound.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Moon and the Stars

  Cain and I sit outside in silence for a few minutes. Not much time at all, but it feels stolen and delicious.

  Wilson glares at Cain, wary.

  You don’t need a guy around, he reminds me. Have you forgotten about Dizzy? He hurt you. I can’t allow that to happen again.

  I glance over at Cain, expecting to see Dizzy’s face, but he looks nothing like him. The two are as different as the moon and stars. One boy twinkles and shines with unrivaled energy. The other is solid in his approach; always there, under clear skies and overcast.

  I’m not sure how I know these things about Cain. Call it a hunch.

  “You hit that girl?” he asks, getting comfortable in his chair.

  I turn my face away. “Yeah, I did.”

  He nods, but doesn’t say anything else on the subject. His eyes return to my body and we meet each other’s gaze. “Did one of the girls talk you into changing how you look?”

  I wrap an arm around myself. “No one talks me into anything.”

  Cain laughs.

  “What?”

  He shrugs. “You’re different, that’s all.”

  “How so?”

  “Most of the girls here are rotten inside. It’s not their fault. It’s just they let their past turn them. But you took a different approach. You built a wall on the outside to keep the inside intact.”

  “Don’t pretend you know me.”

  Cain rubs his jaw. “I don’t know you, Domino. I doubt many people do.”

  “What about you?” I say, turning things around. “Why do you work here?”

  Shadows cross his face, and he stands. “I don’t know what that person told you on the phone, but it wasn’t good.” He peers at me from over his shoulder. “You okay?”

  “You didn’t answer my question; why should I answer yours?”

  Cain smiles and walks a couple of steps away. He crosses his arms, mimicking me, and stares out at the guesthouses. It’s a long time before either of us speaks again. Finally, I ask him a bold question, maybe for shock value, maybe because I’m invincible with the moon standing so close.

  “Do you think there’s something different for you after this life is over?” I ask.

  He steals a look in my direction. “Something easier, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like heaven?”

  “Sure.”

  Cain shakes his head and releases a long breath. “Not for me, little lion.”

  Then he’s gone, striding back toward the house, leaving me alone on my plastic chair, knees pulled tight against my chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Embrace

  I’ve lived inside Madam Karina’s Home for Burgeoning Entertainers for almost two weeks. In that time, I let go of the fantasy that Dizzy ever really cared, I’ve removed the mask I wore for the past year, and I set a goal to earn twelve hundred dollars to rent a place of my own.

  It’s a goal Poppet and I are accomplishing together.

  Today is market day, and I’ve paid off my debts and now have sixteen dollars to my name. Staggering, I know. Of course Poppet reminds me that if I leave the money with Madam Karina and Mr. Hodge that interest will accrue, so I go that route. It’s not like I’m going to chance leaving cash out in the open again.

  I buy nothing from the market and, though it takes some persuading, Poppet doesn’t either. It’s reward enough that we both finished in second and third place this week. Raquel is now in fourth, and retaliating at every turn. So are the other girls. I’ve woken up to gum in my hair and Poppet’s favorite dress in shreds. We’ve been spit on, shoved, and humiliated. The girls now realize I’m not fighting back, and they’re taking full advantage. But yesterday morning, a girl named Shiloh waited until Poppet came out of the shower. She then stole her towel and blocked the door while three other girls pointed out every flaw on her body.

  If I’d seen that happen, I’m not sure I could have kept Wilson from returning. But I didn’t, and Wilson has been good about lying low. In fact, the closer I get to Poppet and Cain, the less he whispers in my ear. It’s as if they soothe something inside me that Wilson usually handles.

  Eric descends the stairs and steps down into the basement. Poppet and I are both there. We’re not buying, but we’re still curious as to what’s available and what the other girls are snapping up.

  The officer sees me and waves me over. “Come with me to Madam Karina’s room.”

  I glance at Poppet, and then do as he asks. As I follow him up three flights of stairs, nervous energy zipping through my body, I think about why he’s here w
hen he should be patrolling the streets of Pox. Maybe he’s a private officer hired by Madam Karina. It still bugs me, though. Cops have certainly never done me any favors. I also remember what Poppet said about him being the one who found her. I think it was Eric who first saw me in Detroit, also. Is he some sort of recruiter on top of being an officer? I fidget at the idea.

  Eric raps once and Mr. Hodge calls for him to enter. When we stride through the door, Madam Karina is lying in bed, a creamy duvet pulled to her waist. She’s propped up by pillows and smiles when she sees me.

  Without taking her eyes off my face, she tells Eric, “You can go.”

  Eric pinches his enormous nose. “What about our payment? The boys are getting antsy, and I’m still waiting for my finder’s fee—”

  “Did you not hear what she said?” Mr. Hodge interjects. “She said go. Now get out of here before I bust your head open.”

  “Oh, Frank,” Madam Karina says, as if she’s truly horrified by Mr. Hodge’s demeanor.

  Eric grunts and slams the door behind him.

  I stare at the space he once occupied and think about what he said. About his boys getting antsy. Does Eric have sons? Does he mean the other Pox police officers?

  Madam Karina opens her arms. “Come here, Domino. Sit right next to me on the bed.” Mr. Hodge pulls out a cell phone and stares down at it as I cross the room. I sit where she tells me to and Madam Karina pulls herself up farther. “You know, I’ve never seen a girl make such quick progress. Not since Lola, anyway. She’s our Top Girl. Do you know what that means?”

  I shake my head, because I want to hear her explain.

  “Top Girl is my right hand gal. I meet with her every Sunday and we discuss the ongoings at the house.” She glances at a clock on her nightstand. “In fact, she’ll be here soon. We’ll have lunch in our room. Might watch a movie when we’re done doing business.”

  She touches my hand briefly. “You know, you’re a lot like Lola. Smart, attractive. You figure things out quickly and make them work in your favor. Except Lola is more like a bulldozer, and you’re more a rabbit, hopping over girls so no one gets hurt.”

  “Rabbit. That’s what I call you, kid,” Mr. Hodge says without looking up.

  Madam Karina’s lips form a thin line, but she relaxes soon enough. “I’m wondering where the sudden competitiveness is coming from.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The madam touches my bare cheek. “You took off your makeup, and you’re working with that Poppy girl.”

  “Poppet.”

  “That’s right. So what’s your end goal? You know I’m happy with all my girls. Even the ones who stay Carnations forever.”

  I swallow, decide there’s no harm in her knowing a piece of my plan. “I want to become a Daisy.”

  Madam Karina radiates light. “That’s fantastic. But why?”

  I avert my gaze. I want to trust Madam Karina, and Poppet, and Cain, but for some reason I don’t tell her about wanting my own place. So I say, “I want more time with you.”

  I disgust myself. First, because what I’m saying is true. Second, because it makes me pathetic. Madam Karina may have her faults, but she’s been nothing but kind to me. Except for that one time she lost her temper for a moment. But no one’s perfect.

  Madam Karina throws her legs over the side of the bed and hangs her head.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No, sweetie.” She looks up at me, her eyes glistening. “It’s just that most of my girls fight among themselves for status only, and maybe money to fatten their accounts. It feels nice to be needed.”

  For the first time, I realize the madam and I aren’t so different. Maybe we’ve both been abandoned. Maybe we’re both cautious to love, and yet desperate for it all the same.

  She holds up a finger. “I have an idea, Miss Domino Ray. Did you know that you have to remain Point Girl for the Carnations for three months, and retain your cumulative top earning rank, before being promoted to a Daisy?”

  My heart plummets. No, I most definitely did not know that. I can’t survive another two and a half months with Mercy and Raquel and the other Carnations. I’ll lose my temper. I’ll do something terrible.

  “I’d like to see how you do with a little motivation.” She stands up. “How about I give you one week to prove you are worthy of being a Daisy? If you can get first placement and stay there until next Sunday, I’ll promote you. But only this week. And you should know there’s no going back. Once you have taken a step up, you stay there.”

  My breath catches at this challenge. “Why would you do this?”

  She shrugs, makes a face like something smells. “Lola is great. But I need new blood to work with. A sharp mind that can help take my home to a higher level.” Madam Karina opens her mouth and closes it. Opens it again. “I told you I had a sister…” She hisses the last word. “She has a home for girls, too. It’s in Detroit. I often travel days to visit her, which is how you and I came to meet. While I’m there, she talks only of herself and her accomplishments. Do you know someone like that?”

  I nod, though I’m not sure I do.

  “Disgusting, really. But my mother adored her.” Madam Karina crosses the room suddenly, takes my face in her hands. “Do you know what it’s like to be ignored? No, of course you don’t. Look at that face.”

  “I know what it’s like,” I whisper, thinking of my father, who left me all alone.

  Madam Karina studies my eyes as if deciding whether I’m being honest. Then she releases me, goes to her dresser, and pulls something from the bottom drawer. It’s a piece of manila paper folded twice, lined and yellowing with age. The madam clutches it in her hands before unfolding it and waving me over.

  When I come to stand beside her and look down at the paper, my heart clenches. It’s a colorful picture drawn by a child’s hand. A young stick-figure girl stands outside a house resembling the one we’re in now, and beside her is a smiling woman who must be her mother. The mother and daughter are holding hands, and between their fingers is a bushel of violets. In front of them lies a garden of purple violets spraying in all directions. The mother seems to be offering every last one to her daughter.

  Above their heads is one word written with an orange crayon.

  HOME

  That word is the most prominent part of the picture, as if whoever drew this went over and over it until the sheet nearly tore from the pressure.

  “Violets were her favorite,” Madam Karina says in a whisper. When she turns and looks at me, there’s an unreadable expression on her face. “We’re alike, you and I. Seeking a place, or maybe a feeling, we never really had.”

  She releases me and glances at Mr. Hodge, who’s still messing with his phone. “What are you doing over there? Have you heard anything I’ve been saying?”

  He glances up. “Were you speaking to me, love?”

  “No,” Madam Karina whines. “But you wouldn’t have heard a word if I had been.”

  “Puppy…” he says, tilting his head.

  Madam Karina looks back at me with a smile, her sadness tossed aside. “One week. How does it sound?”

  “It sounds great, thank you.” I pause, raise my chin. “But I need Poppet with me.”

  “The girl with the glasses and big hair,” she says.

  I smile. “Yeah, her.”

  Madam Karina scrunches her nose. “Domino, be careful where you place your alliances. Someone as strong and ambitious as yourself can be taken advantage of by girls who are, well…” She mouths the word “dumb.”

  I bristle. “I appreciate your offer, Madam, but I don’t want to go anywhere if it’s not with Poppet.”

  Madam Karina laughs. “Poppet. What a ridiculous name. Now Domino? There’s a name. Makes me think of gambling and placing bets and throwing caution to the wind.” When I don’t respond, she takes me by the shoulders. “I didn’t mean to insult your friend. It’s strange, but I suppose I believe in you so muc
h that I don’t want anything to get in your way. It makes me defensive on your behalf. Isn’t that odd? Me being defensive of you as if you were my own child?”

  My chest opens. Maybe literally. Maybe my chest plate has split open and my bloody heart beats for her alone. I’m more vulnerable in this moment than I have been in a long time. I suspect if Madam Karina only reached out, she could take my pulsing heart straight into her hands and I’d go on breathing if she told me to.

  Madam Karina acting as if she is my mother.

  Me acting as her child.

  What could that look like?

  No! Wilson snaps, grabbing my heart and shielding it from view. No.

  “Domino,” she coos, bringing her face to mine. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Could I…? That is, I’ve noticed you don’t prefer being touched. But I wonder if I might hug you. Just this once.”

  I stand stock-still, but my pulse races. I’ve never been asked permission to be touched. Will it feel different? Slowly, I nod.

  Madam Karina steps forward and even Mr. Hodge looks on, curious as to how I’ll react. She opens her arms and before I know it, they are around me. She lays her cheek against the crown of my head and her fingers splay against my back, holding me close. Then she does something that pushes me to my limits. She raises a hand and covers the side of my face with it, presses my head closer to her chest and says, softly, “Shh, child. Shhh.”

  After I step back, I have to hang my head so she can’t see the emotion stretched across my face. A war wages in my mind. On one side, I want to hug Madam Karina forever. I want to be Top Girl and inherit this house and continue running her business to show my gratitude. On the other, I’m too afraid to let my guard down. I can’t handle being manipulated again.

  Not after my mother showed me her bitterness.

  Not after I helped her do the dirty things.

  An image of a man weeping springs to mind. He’s talking about his daughter, saying her name over and over again as if this will help. My mother stands beside me, eyes blazing. I touch the man’s check tenderly, a dangerous hand hidden behind my back. No, not me. I don’t touch the man. Wilson does.