by Elle Casey
I try to smile, but I’m too sad. “Superman to the rescue?”
He steps back, his face twisted up. “No. Just . . . a person. A man who would’ve been happy to help you out.” He runs a hand through his hair.
I reach out and grab his forearm for a second and then let it go. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of your need to help people. I get where it’s coming from now . . . Now that you’ve told me about your sister and Charlie. Please don’t be mad at me.”
He looks up suddenly, surprise in his expression. “I’m not mad at you. Not at all.” He pauses, and his facial features smooth out as he attempts to smile. “I’m just mad at that guy. I don’t know who he is, but I really want to rearrange his face for him.”
I can barely get my words out as the present catches up to me and the reality of my situation comes crashing in. “He was the one who came into the hospital today looking for me. Pavel.”
Thibault looks at the ground, his jaw pulsing in and out. “So, he’s your pimp?”
“No. He’s my employer.”
He looks up and blinks a few times, obviously confused by my answer.
Thibault’s probably going to laugh at me or think I’m a complete idiot, but I can’t stop telling my story now. I need to share all of it with him; it feels like some sort of therapy to finally be able to tell someone the entire thing instead of just parts of it like I told Detective Holloway.
“Turns out, I actually suck at being a prostitute.” I smile a little, remembering the times Pavel came at me, yelling about how I needed to learn how to be a proper whore.
He smiles cautiously. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I’ve come to find out that men don’t really like it when you give them shit during the act, if you know what I mean.” I hold up a stiff finger and then slowly bend it down until it looks very limp and sad. My frown is exaggerated.
His smile is dangerously charming. “Imagine that,” he says.
“But . . .” I lose my smile and become serious again, moving my attention to the baby. This story does not have a happy ending, even though there were some personal triumphs along the way. “. . . It also turns out that I’m good at keeping books, what with my finance degree and all. And Pavel needed someone to keep track of his growing enterprise, so when I got fired from his string of girls, I didn’t get to go free; instead, I got recruited into this new job.”
“And what’s Pavel’s story? Where’s he from?”
“He’s Russian. He came over here when he was nineteen, about seven years ago. People call him The Vor. It means thief, but a special kind of thief . . . One his people really respect.”
“So you work as his bookkeeper?”
I shrug. “It was either that or end up in a ditch somewhere.”
Thibault nods, all traces of humor gone from his face. “I get it.” He turns to the changing table and pulls out a diaper, setting it on the top. “Well, at least you were off the streets.”
I shake my head, wishing it was as positive as he makes it sound. “I just traded one hell for another.” I walk over and place Tee down on the cushion. “Do you mind if I change him?”
“Not at all. That’s one of Melanie’s diapers from when she was a newborn. I don’t know why I kept it, but it should be perfect for Tee. He’s pretty tiny. These might fit him better than the ones you have.”
“Thanks.” I slowly unwrap my baby burrito and go through the motions of changing his diaper as I finish my tale of woe. “I’ve been doing this work for four years now. Officially, Pavel has a few laundromats, and I keep the books for them . . . a separate set for the government to see, of course. But unofficially he has a whole prostitution ring that has its own set of books, and he pushes most of the money he gets from that through the legit business to clean it up. I know everything about his life, work and personal. He’s taking on girls from Europe now, too.” I stop and clear my throat in an effort to keep the tears at bay. My life went from bad to horrifically awful in five years. I let it get away from me, and I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of regrets as I stand over my child. “I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing anymore . . . Let those girls get used and abused like that. Some of them are really young, and unlike me, none of them signed up for it. When they left their home countries, they thought they were coming to have a better life. I had to do something.”
“What did you do?” He reaches over and helps me with one of the diaper tapes. My fingers are trembling too much to work right. He doesn’t say anything after the job is done; he just rests his big, warm hand on my shoulder as I finish and snap the baby’s clothing together.
“I went to the police and became an informant.” I place my hand on Tee’s tummy and take a few deep breaths. “Part of me still can’t believe I did it.”
“It takes a lot of courage to do that. To take that risk.”
“I didn’t know I was pregnant. I don’t know if I would have done it if I had known.”
Thibault limps around me to help me with the blanket, gently guiding me in the wrapping process as he waits for me to speak again.
“Maybe I would have, I don’t know.” I sigh. “There’s no point in wondering what might have been. I’m here and I’ve done what I’ve done. I just have to figure out where to go from here.”
“How long have you been informing on him?”
“Three months. But then I wasn’t feeling so good health-wise, so I was going to tell the detective I had to stop for a little while so I could get better. I was going to tell him that I needed to go to the doctor and that he had to pay for it because all this sneaking around was giving me indigestion.” I sigh with the memory. I was all fired up then, so sure of myself. “I was going to start helping the cops again and do what I could when I was feeling better . . .”
“But all that time you were pregnant.” He pauses. “With Pavel’s baby?”
I laugh bitterly. “Stupid, right? How could I not know I had a baby growing inside me?” I don’t want to go into detail about how I managed to have sex with Pavel when he’s the son of the Devil himself and I’ve known this about him from day one. My story is already sad enough.
“It happens,” he says.
“Not to me, or so I thought.” I pick up the baby and hold him against me. My voice drops to a whisper. “Turns out I’m pretty clueless about a lot of things.” Tears rush to my eyes and burn them. It feels like I’m sharing a dark secret with my baby as the fuzz from his head brushes against my lips and the words escape. “And now I don’t know what I’m going to do.” My chin trembles with the effort of holding back the emotion that threatens to overwhelm me. That hopeless feeling is sneaking in again. I hate feeling so desperate.
He takes me by the upper arms and gently turns me to face him. “Listen . . . I know you say I have a hero complex or whatever, but if you’d just hear me out, maybe I could show you something. If you could just trust me, trust that I’m not in this to get you hurt or to get something for myself.”
I sniff, clearing my throat to get the frog out of it. “What are you talking about?” I step away from his touch, not comfortable with his warmth and the feelings his close proximity is starting to create in me. My life is already complicated enough; I don’t need to hunt down more trouble for myself.
“I’m talking about the Bourbon Street Boys.”
I have to think about that for a second, but it doesn’t help to clarify his statement. I think I’m too tired. “I don’t understand.”
“We could help you. All of us. My team. If you’d let us.”
I don’t dare hope, but that doesn’t stop my curiosity from taking hold. “How are you going to do that?”
“First, you’ll need to rest. Three days, minimum. You just had a baby, and your body needs at least that much time just to start to recuperate. To be honest, my knee could probably use some downtime too, so I could keep you company. Then I could introduce you to the team. Explain the situation. Discu
ss options. And once they’re on board, we could go talk to the police, and together we’ll all come up with a solution you can live with. And you and Baby Tee will be safe through the entire process. You have my word on that.”
I want to believe him so badly it makes my heart ache, but I know better. “I don’t think it’s going to work.”
“Why not? We’re trained for this kind of thing. My leg isn’t at a hundred percent, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely useless.” He glances down at his knee, and I once again feel guilty about the part I played in his injury.
“Yeah, but Pavel . . . he’s not going to stop looking for me. He came to the hospital, he took my car . . . He’ll keep searching until he finds me. I know way too much about his life.” I look around the room. “I probably shouldn’t even be here. I’ve stayed too long as it is.”
Thibault leans on his crutches and looks me in the eye. “I have a state-of-the-art security system that’s monitored at all times by an off-site company. I’ve been trained to manage dangerous individuals and situations by some of the best experts in the business.”
“You don’t know Pavel. He’s not just bad . . . he’s evil.”
Thibault stands up straighter and puffs out his chest. “And I’m a good guy, remember?” He pretends to draw the letter S on his T-shirt.
I have to laugh. He’s so serious and tough one second and then making a joke the next. I can tell he’s had a lot of practice dealing with his sister’s moods. He seems to know how to manage mine well enough.
“How about if I say that I’ll think about it?” A glimmer of hope has lit up my heart, and I want to hang on to it, even though it’s crazy and dangerous and probably ten kinds of foolish to entertain the idea of sticking around here. It’s like playing hide-and-seek in Pavel’s front yard.
“That’s a great start,” he says. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll serve up the pasta?”
“Sounds good to me.” I sit down, holding my baby close. He opens his eyes at the movement. I don’t know if he can even see my face yet, so I lean close and whisper to him. “Mama’s going to make sure you’re safe. I promise.” I kiss him on the forehead and then look up to find Thibault turning away to walk to the stove, an unreadable expression clouding his face.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Can I use the twins’ diaper changing station?” I ask as Thibault puts our dirty plates in the dishwasher. Tee has just finished having his own meal and his diaper is already getting heavy. I can feel my hair standing up all over the place and could sure use a washing, but my first concern is for my boy. Maybe after I’m done with him I can sneak a shower in, before we leave for the bus station. As much as I appreciate Thibault offering to help us, I know I can’t take him up on it any longer. There’s just too much danger involved. My heart is heavy, but my mind is made up.
“Of course. Help yourself.”
I unwrap the baby, unsnap his outfit, and peel back the tapes of his diaper. As I reach for another one of the twins’ leftover tiny ones, I’m hit in the face with something warm. A nanosecond later, I realize what’s happening.
“Oh, help! Ew! Gross! He’s a fireman!” I hold my hands out, trying to block the stream of urine flying toward my face. The baby tips sideways and his fire hose moves with him, blazing a trail across the wall. “What the hell! Stop that, Tee-Tee! That’s not nice! Oh, God, it’s going everywhere!”
Thibault is by my side suddenly, snagging a baby wipe out of the container on the dresser and dropping it over my son’s pee cannon.
I have to take a moment to calm myself before I speak. “I am so sorry. Jesus, what was that all about?” Baby pee drips down my cheek. I grab a wipe and attack my face with it, scrubbing furiously.
Thibault’s voice is strained. “‘Help’ . . . ? ‘He’s a fireman’?”
I give him a sheepish grin, tossing the wipe into the nearby trash can. “It just looked like a fire hose or something, the way it was spraying all over the place, out of control. Is that normal?” I glance down at my child. He’s staring at the light overhead, mesmerized, his skinny little legs quivering.
I quickly put the blanket over his lower half, feeling guilty that I left him unprotected in the cold air. The blanket is wet on the bottom, which is a big problem because it’s the only one I have.
“Completely normal . . . for boys, anyway. Girls, not so much.” Thibault uses a tissue to soak up droplets from the cover on top of the dresser.
I move the blanket and maneuver the diaper under the baby. After wiping him down, I try to get the diaper on, but it’s not cooperating for some reason.
“Tapes come from the back and go to the front,” Thibault says, taking the diaper off and turning it around.
“Oh. Brilliant.” I’m starting to think I seriously suck at this mothering thing. I actually feel like crying over a silly diaper.
“Eh, it’s no big deal. I did that a lot when Mel and Vic were first born. Bringing the tapes to the front makes it easier to get them on and off.” He folds the top of the diaper down after cinching up the sides as much as possible. Listening to him talk and act like it’s not the end of the world gives me the moment I need to collect my runaway emotions.
I look up at him, hoping he isn’t going to hold this event against me. “I’m sorry my boy peed on your wall.”
“Don’t be sorry. Be proud.” Thibault grins big.
“Proud?”
“Yeah. He’s only a newborn and look at the power he’s got.” He points at the swath of destruction Tee left behind. “Look at that distance.”
I roll my eyes. “Great. I guess I’d better invest in some plastic to tape on the walls.” I grab a wipe and do my best to clean the mess.
“Nah. Just drop a couple tissues on his business as soon as you take the diaper off and you’ll be fine. The problem is the cold air. It makes ’em go.” He reaches down and pretends to poke Tee’s belly. “Better behave yourself, young man. Your mommy doesn’t need any trouble from you.” While I finish with the wall, Thibault buttons up the baby’s little outfit and takes one of his tiny feet, wiggling it. “Look at those skinny little legs.” He gives one of Tee’s thighs a squeeze with his thumb and forefinger and leans down to stare into his dark-blue eyes. “Better start bulking up. Momma needs you to grow up big and strong.”
“You think he’s too skinny? Like, not healthy?” I lean in and check the circumference of Tee’s legs by wrapping my fingers around them. They do seem pretty tiny.
“No, he’s perfect in every way. Gorgeous.” Thibault wraps him up and lifts him off the dresser, handing him over. “Here’s your momma.” He pauses, not releasing Tee into my hands.
“What’s wrong?”
“This blanket is wet in the back.”
I cringe. “I think he peed on it. It’s the only one I have.”
Thibault sets him down on the table. “Not a problem. I’ll be right back.” He leaves me there with the baby, and I take the moment alone with my boy to undress him down to his diaper and wipe him with a washcloth I find in the dresser’s top drawer and some water from the sink. Using the clean part of the blanket, I dry him off and then open my hospital robe so he can eat; he gets plenty warm enough lying against me that I’m not worried about him being mostly naked.
Thibault comes back into the kitchen, quickly averting his eyes when he sees what I’m doing. “You want to do that in the living room? It might be more comfortable.”
“No, I’m fine here.”
He looks at his watch. “Listen . . . it’s getting late. I know you said you wanted to get to the bus station, but are you sure you want to do that in what you’re wearing?”
He has a point. I do a better job of covering my chest, pulling the robe over the baby’s head a little. “It’s probably not ideal. I could go to Target if you’d take me. Or I could get a cab. I know your knee isn’t good.”
He leans on his crutches. “Don’t worry about my knee. That’s not an issue. But maybe you could consi
der waiting until tomorrow?”
I shake my head. “No. I have to go tonight. The longer I stay here, the worse it could get.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but someone knocks at the front door. I stiffen up, imagining Pavel there insisting on seeing me and taking me out of here. I should have left sooner. Why did I take that nap?
“That’ll be Toni,” he says.
“Toni?”
His back disappears down the hall as he heads toward the front of the house.
I pull Tee off me and button myself up as best I can. She’ll probably think I’m trying to make a move on her brother, exposing myself to him. I didn’t even realize until now that I’ve been nursing in front of him all day without being embarrassed about it. I think it helps that he told me right up front that I’m not his type. I don’t have to worry about him checking me out because of that, and besides, he must’ve seen his sister breastfeed hundreds of times. He’s probably immune to mom-boobs by now.
I hear voices, and then Toni comes into the kitchen with a duffel bag over her shoulder.
“Where’s Thibault?” I ask.
She drops the duffel on the ground and sits down in the chair next to me, turning it so she can face me. “He’s outside bringing a couple things in.” She rests the heels of her stiletto boots on the rung of the chair, her legs spread. She’s tough and she knows it.
“But his knee . . .”
“His knee can handle it. I wanted to talk to you without him around to hear me.”
“Oh.” So it’s going to be like that. “Fine. Say whatever it is you have to say.” I lift my chin. I’ve been judged by women better than her. She can’t hurt me.
“Thibault is a good guy,” she says. “A really good guy.”
“I know that.”
“And I told you before he likes to think he’s Superman.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“He also carries around a lot of guilt.”
“Yeah, he told me about Charlie.”
Her face goes slack. “Say what?”
