Deuces Wild

by Christina C Jones

  Pushing off from the door, I headed deeper into my apartment, skipping my workout room to go straight to my bathroom, where I flung my medicine cabinet open. My eyes scanned the contents until they landed on what I was looking for – the little bottle of guaranteed sleep that I’d been avoiding.

  I couldn’t get it open fast enough, swallowing two before I flipped the water on, dipping my head down to the faucet to gulp a mouthful. When I straightened, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror – dark circles under bloodshot eyes, dull skin… this whole thing was taking a toll on me. Looking away, I wiped my mouth with the back of my taped hands, then immediately starting stripping to get into a shower turned up as hot as I could stand it. By the time I climbed out, I could barely keep my eyes open.

  Exactly what I needed.

  I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

  I ran through my mental checklist one last time as I pulled up to the building, making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. I’d avoided this for as long as I could, not wanting to face the painful display of emotion that was sure to come with this visit.

  But after Cree had brought her up, I had to face facts.

  I’d put this off long enough.

  I left my oversized shades on my face as I climbed out of my car, then went around to retrieve the bag I’d stowed on the passenger side. Books, magazines, toiletries, snacks… the only thing not in the huge shopping bag was the therapy Penelope would need to feel human again, after years of being treated like something much, much less.

  We were still talking her into that though.

  We, meaning me and Jennifer, whose apartment door I thumped at with my fist, requesting entry. My keenly tuned ears picked up the muffled shuffling of her socked feet across the floor, clearly caught the shift in space as she looked the peephole. I wiggled the fingers of my free hand at her, then quickly stepped inside when she opened the door.

  “How is our special guest today?” I asked, keeping my voice low. Jennifer was one of my employees at the security firm, but more than that, she was a mother, who’d just shipped her last kid off to college. She was tough as hell, sure, but had an undeniable, nurturing sort of warmth about her that made her perfect for the job of taking an exploited young girl in.

  Or so I thought.

  Jennifer’s response to my question was a deep, lengthy sigh that raised my concern until she quickly followed it with raised hands.

  “She’s fine… outwardly,” Jen explained. “Still not saying much, or coming out of her room besides for meals, but she’s managing. I had to make her a separate profile so she’d stop screwing up my Netflix queue.”

  That made me smile. “Good. But…?”

  “But… we need to get her to a doctor, get her checked out. Make sure she doesn’t have any… souvenirs… from her trip to hell. But every time I mention it, she—”

  “Goes berserk,” I finished for her, nodding. “Yeah. I wouldn’t want to be touched, poked, or prodded either.”

  “I understand that, and I empathize, but we have to make sure she’s healthy. I’m already harboring a minor, I can’t have her keeling over and dying in here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s not going to happen. I’ll talk to her now. Maybe she’ll be more open since I’ve come bearing gifts. And maybe we can get somebody to just come here, instead of having to take her to sit in a clinic.”

  “Probably a good idea. She’s upstairs, in Mia’s room.”

  “Thank you again for doing this, Jen. You’re helping save this girl’s life.”

  Jen tipped her head. “No need to thank me. Getting her out of that hovel was my pleasure.”

  I bumped Jen’s fist with mine and then headed up the stairs, hefting the shopping bag full of goodies. The door to the room she was staying in was closed, so I lifted a hand and knocked first.

  I waited until I heard a quiet “come in” before I turned the knob and stepped in, finding Penelope on the bed. She was a petite girl, and now that she was cleaned up, looked even younger than the sixteen years she claimed to be, especially with the way she was sitting. Knees drawn up to her chest, arms locked around them, pulling in, as if she were trying to be smaller, trying to draw less attention, just like she had in that plywood stall.

  It made my chest hurt.

  “Hi Penelope,” I said, in the gentlest tone I could. Instead of sitting at the edge of the bed, I put the shopping bag there for her to go through when she wanted, and grabbed the chair from the desk as my own seat. “Are you doing okay up here?”

  She nodded, her eyes big and wide as I pulled my sunglasses off, tucking them into the front pocket of the lightweight hoodie I was wearing.

  “I brought you some magazines and stuff. Some puzzles. And there’s a cell phone in there, with my number programmed in, in case you ever need anything. Jennifer and Kerri too.”

  She gave me another nod. “Kerri… was there that night too?”

  “Yeah, she was. She’s somebody I would trust with nearly anything. You can trust her too. We all have your best interests at heart. And we are so sorry for what those men did to you.”

  Penelope tucked her head down, hiding most of her face behind her knees. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “And you don’t have to. Not with me, not right now. But it is important for you to get checked by a doctor, to make sure you’re okay.”

  With only her eyes showing, she shook her head. “I’m clean. He always made sure. Said he could charge more that way.”

  I swallowed a surge of nausea, but tried my best to keep my expression neutral, not wanting to worry her, or worse – have her think she was what I found disgusting.

  “I’d still feel better if I heard it from a doctor. Another woman who I trust. I can arrange for her to come here if you’d like.”

  “Is she gonna report me? Make me go back?”

  “Go back where?” I asked first, then thought better of it, quickly amending my question with, “No. No one is going to report you. You’re safe here.”

  “Back to that… place. With the pillars, and the flowers, and the… electricity.”

  Instantly, a lump clogged my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a long blink. Her confirmation of something I hadn’t wanted to feel so sure about made it harder to breathe.

  I knew exactly the place she was talking about.

  The Garden.

  A place that wasn’t nearly as peaceful as it sounded.

  “You will never have to go back to that place. I’d die first. Okay? You’ll never have to be a rosebud again.”

  She nodded.

  Because she knew what I was talking about.

  And it broke my heart.

  “How… how did you end up here? In Vegas. If it’s not too much.”

  She shrugged. “They sent me to be with a man, and he… hurt me. With a belt. Left scars on my back, so I wasn’t good enough anymore. They sold me. And then I got sold again. And again. And… ended up here.”

  I frowned, eyes narrowed in confusion. “Sent you to be with a man…?”

  “Yeah…”

  “For what?”

  She lifted her head, looking at me like I was crazy. “Sex.”

  My head reared back. “No, I mean when you were at the Belrose Compound. Not what happened after.”

  “That’s what happened there,” she insisted, with baffling certainty. “It’s the earliest thing I remember about my life.”

  I shook my head. “No, the Belrose family deals in weapons – in destruction. Not sex. The tattoo… the rose,” I explained, pulling my hoodie over my head so that I was just in my tank top. I pulled the strap aside, exposing the pink rose I’d tried on more than one occasion to scrub off, since having it removed… for whatever reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “This is what you get when your training is finished – when you’re proficient.”

  Penelope’s eyebrows furrowed together. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I wasn’t trained to fi
ght, I was trained to do… other things. Your rose is pink… mine is red.”

  Those words hit me with the force of a freight train.

  I didn’t miss details like that – was trained not to. But once Penelope pulled up the arm of her tee shirt, shifting it to bare her own tattoo, the difference was undeniable. The coloring of hers was warmer, and deeper than mine. Definitely red.

  What the hell did this mean?

  I closed my eyes, squeezing hard as my brain wrapped around this new information, trying to force it to make sense. The idea of different roses tore a jagged hole in something I considered a fact, deflating it. But a whole slew of questions arose, recycling my former truth as a shroud, keeping me from the answers I needed to move forward.

  “Que pouvez-vous me dire d'autre?” I asked, curious about what more she knew, where she’d come from, and how she’d landed here. I couldn’t just take her word and run with it, not without further investigation – part of why I asked the question in French.

  The language was required.

  “Que je ne reviendrai jamais. Tu devras me tuer d'abord, si tu es toujours l'un d'eux,” she reiterated, with a fresh defiance in her voice.

  I shook my head. “I’m not. And I wouldn’t let anybody take you back there. If anybody tries to hurt you, they’ll have to get through me first. And nobody gets through me. Okay?”

  She stared for a short moment before she nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good. Now, I’m going to call someone I know – someone I trust, to see if she has some time today, to give you a checkup. I can stay in the room, or Jennifer can, if that makes you more comfortable, but it’s not negotiable, Penelope. I’m sorry.”

  “I understand,” she muttered, dropping her head again – a clear sign that the conversation was over as far as she was concerned.

  Instead of pushing, I respected the signal she was putting off. I left her there in the room, closing the door behind me before I pulled out my phone as I headed down the stairs.

  “Loren?” I asked, relieved when she picked up quickly. “Are you busy today? I need a favor, if you can.”

  “Don’t tell me you need another bullet hole stitched up…” she sighed, completely serious. “I told you, after you bloodied up my kitchen last time—”

  I snickered as I interrupted her. “No, it’s not that. Not this time.”

  “Something worse?”

  Hand propped on my hip, I glanced toward the stairs. “Uh… yes and no. No blood this time, but… there’s a young girl who needs to be checked out.”

  “A young girl?” Loren asked, alarm rising in her tone. “Is she pregnant?”

  “For her sake, I desperately hope not. Traffickers got their hands on her. We were able to get her away.”

  “Traffickers?! Alicia… is this related to all that stuff on the ne—”

  “The less you know, the better,” I said, my tone firm.

  Loren went quiet on me for a second, then sighed. “Fine. Any drugs? Is she detoxing?”

  “Thankfully, no. She seems healthy.”

  “Okay, good. Uh… let me gather a few things, and I’ll come to you. Where are you?”

  I gave her the address and then we hung up. I went to find Jennifer while we waited for Loren to arrive, which took less than an hour.

  She came through the door in sweatpants and a tee shirt, with her relaxed hair pulled up in a knot on top of her head. It was – almost – the most dressed down I’d ever seen her. Loren worked in the emergency room two days a week – there, she wore scrubs. The rest of the week, she worked as a private doctor – by appointment only, at a price point that greatly thinned her clientele.

  A clientele that overlapped mine to the point that she often recommended people to my services and I often recommended people to hers. In that capacity, she was usually in pumps, and expensive suits.

  And there was that one time, while guarding Kingston at a club, that I’d gotten caught in the crossfires of some shenanigans that weren’t even related to us. Bullets started flying, and I did what I was supposed to do – took a bullet for my employer.

  I was never gonna let his ass forget it either.

  To his credit, he was extremely concerned, insisting on rushing me to the hospital, to get the hole sewn up. It was a flesh wound, really – through and through, without hitting any bones or major arteries, so I refused the hospital, choosing instead to show up at Loren’s door, bleeding.

  She’d been in a robe and headscarf then.

  Penelope opted to have me in the room while Loren did her exam, which I could tell she was trying to make as quick and painless as possible. After a short exam, and even shorter swab, Loren took blood and urine samples, closing everything up in the secure container she’d brought with her.

  “So it’ll take me a few days to get everything tested, but I didn’t see anything that raises any alarms. All things considered… you look healthy, and I’m optimistic about the tests.”

  “Thank you,” Penelope told her, her voice quiet as she wrapped herself tighter in the robe Jennifer had given her to wear during the exam.

  “You’re very welcome.”

  We stepped out to give her some privacy while she changed back into her clothes, and I led Loren downstairs.

  “So you’re sure she’s going to be okay?” I asked as soon as I was confident we wouldn’t be overheard.

  Loren shook her head. “I don’t make that type of promise, Alicia. You know that.”

  “I do,” I conceded. “But give me something here, doc.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Fine. She… she has some obvious sexual trauma. Bruising that hasn’t healed yet, scars, things of that nature. None of the red flags of STDs or STIs though, which is phenomenal. I won’t know for sure until after the tests.” She put her bag down on the counter and crossed her arms. “If I didn’t know that the worst of her trauma was invisible, I’d be tempted to call her one of the lucky ones. Cause we both know how this usually goes.”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. “Yeah. We do. I’m just glad we were able to get her away.”

  “I am too, but now you need to get her to a mental health professional. That’s the only way this girl is going to get any peace long term.”

  “I know. We’re trying to convince her, but she doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s still too fresh, and I get it. I already pressed the issue about her physical health – I can’t make her talk to a therapist until she’s ready. Until then, I’m just worried about keeping her safe.”

  Loren nodded. “It’s a tough line to walk. But I g—I get… oh, damn. Bathroom?” she asked, then clapped a hand over her mouth, taking off running once I’d pointed out the direction. The door swung shut behind her, but even from the other side, the clear sounds of someone vomiting carried up to my ears.

  I waited until I heard the water come on at the sink to knock on the door.

  “Loren… you okay in there?”

  “Yeah,” she called out, even though it came across a little shaky. A moment later, she opened the door with obvious strain in her eyes as she wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “Just pregnant,” she added, in a distinctly casual tone, as if she hadn’t just delivered what I thought most women considered big news.

  Now that I really looked at her, the news explained the sweatpants and the ponytail, as well as why her normally glowing deep brown skin looked less luminous than I was used to.

  “Uh… wow,” I said, stepping back so she could get through the door. “Congratulations?” I added, somewhat cautiously, since her vibe was so laid back I couldn’t tell how she felt about it. She’d mentioned wanting kids before, but as far as I knew, she wasn’t seriously dating anyone. Hell – I hadn’t known she was pregnant either though.

  “Thank you. It wasn’t planned for right now, and I’m still getting used to the idea, but at least I don’t have to drop five figures on in-vitro or anything. Silver linings, right?”

  “Right,” I nodded. “Is your boyfriend excited?”<
br />
  Loren let out a snort of laughter. “You know I don’t have one of those, but if I did have one right now, he would undoubtedly drop my ass for having another man’s baby.” She put a hand to her stomach. “No, this little apple seed is the result of a hot two-week fling that ended when we realized our chemistry was strictly confined to the bedroom.”

  “Quit while you were ahead?”

  “Well, we tried, but a baby throws a wrench in the plans. We haven’t even spoken in a few months, and now I have to work up the courage to tell him this. We’ll see what happens.”

  My eyes got big. “So you haven’t told him yet?”

  “Not yet,” she confirmed, slipping her bag over her shoulder. “I will soon though. Give him a chance to step up and then if not… hell, maybe I’ll find a wife or something, cause who has time to be bothered with these men?” she laughed. “I’ll be in touch with those results, okay?”

  I bid Loren goodbye after walking her back to the door, and then said my own goodbyes to Jennifer and Penelope as well. In my car, I sat back with my eyes closed, trying to process all the new information I’d absorbed, in just a short period.

  Loren’s pregnancy aside, I was truly baffled by the new details about the Belrose compound that I’d gotten from Penelope. In the years I spent there, training and then working, not once had I seen a Rose with a tattoo in a different color. I knew that the limited parts of the compound we could roam wasn’t all of it, but it had never occurred to me that there were other women and girls there, being trained in an entirely different… skillset.

  But when it came down to it, what I’d been trained for wasn’t any better – was arguably worse. To both ends, the Belroses had perfected the art of stripping people’s humanity away, replacing it with something emptier, something… darker.

  My damage had been reversed – at least enough to live a somewhat normal, productive life. I hoped like hell that years from now, Penelope would be able to say the same thing.

  The woman in the video though… who would save her? I had nothing to go on.Vague details, no name, nothing except a tattoo and a face. If there was any chance of me getting answers about who she was, and rescuing her from a somber fate… I was going to need assistance.