by Stacy Green
“I don’t think this kid is working out of a shelter. Even though her clothes weren’t warm enough, she was well put together, and most of those places keep a pretty strict eye on kids’ comings and goings. They won’t allow them to stay if they think something weird is going on.” Not to mention she had an air of authority on the street. She’d wanted information for her pimp, which meant she knew exactly where to deliver it.
“Yeah, but maybe they know her. Streets are a big place, but word gets around, you know? Kids talk. Know who to stay away from. I’d say it’s your best shot other than just walking the area around the Rattner, and it’s too cold for that. Not to mention dangerous for you.” Kenny’s mouth hung open as if he meant to say more, but he snapped it shut. He knew I wouldn’t listen.
I agreed, for now. But if we didn’t find Riley in a few days, I’d have to layer up and brave the cold and whatever dangers North Philly had to throw at me.
8
The thing about a city like Philadelphia in the winter is that the snow and cold weather never really slow it down. People adapt quickly, especially those who’ve grown up here. The weather is a part of life, and nothing stands in the way of having a good time after work.
Sitting in the middle of a crowded Maisy’s, I waited for Sarah, who of course was late.
No hidden corner tables were available, which put me nearly in the middle of a murmuring after-dinner crowd. Part bar, part coffee joint, Maisy’s served an eclectic crowd of all ages and provided fantastic people watching. Another night, I’d be enjoying myself, making up stories about whatever person caught my eye, but my mind stayed on a single track. Would Sarah show?
Chris bet me $100 she wouldn’t. Stubborn and forever nosy, he’d positioned himself at the end of the bar where he could discreetly keep an eye on me. His presence was the end result of a very short-lived argument an hour earlier.
“You have no idea if she’s coming alone. She might have someone waiting to ambush you.” How Chris thought he could prevent that from the bar, I wasn’t sure, but I relented. I wished I’d just kept my mouth shut, but a secret part of me was glad he was here. I wasn’t exactly a normal girl. A crowd like this made me feel like I had a giant sign flashing “fraud” over my head. The proverbial sore thumb in virtually every situation. Seeing Chris in his wool pea coat and black glasses, broad shoulders slightly rounded, head down as if he were lost in thought, made me feel less like the lone speck of black sand on an otherwise perfectly white beach.
A lithe, blond woman wearing a dark blue, knitted beret skirted around the tables. Sarah and I locked eyes. Gone was the confidence I’d always associated with her, along with about half her usual makeup. She looked worn out and downright nervous.
I cocked my head and smiled as she sat down. “Glad you could make it.”
“I didn’t have much choice, did I?” Her voice sounded unusually throaty.
“We always have a choice.”
Sarah said nothing, sitting down without her usual grace. Lips drawn tightly against her teeth, her entire face looked thin and sallow. She folded her hands across the gleaming wood table and stared at me with a mix of hostility and curiosity.
“Did you want to order something?” I didn’t expect to liquor her up, but a little alcohol might work in my favor.
“No.”
I swirled my untouched club soda. At the bar, Chris shifted to slightly face me, making conversation with the brunette next to him. I bit the inside of my cheek and smiled at Sarah. “Let’s just get right to it. What have you got on your boss that we can use to make some easy money?”
She actually laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Not much. He’s got a system of checks and balances to rival the government. I’m just one part of it.”
“So how’d you get started?” I made a show of looking her up and down. “You’re not into those,” I dropped my voice to a harsh whisper, “kids, are you?”
She screwed her pert nose. “No. I would never do such a thing.”
Nodding, I eased back in my seat, as if I agreed that pimping kids was perfectly okay as long as you didn’t dip into your stash. Indignation boiled my veins. “Then how did you get involved? I mean, you’re risking a lot, especially with such a successful business.”
“It’s hard to start a business nowadays.” She shrugged, her shoulders looking bony beneath her blue wool cape. “My business is really competitive and takes a lot of startup capital, plus word of mouth to succeed.”
“So you were in financial trouble,” I surmised. “But how does a girl like you find out about this…organization?”
“They found me.” She snapped the bracelet on her wrist. “Six months ago, this kid swaggers into the salon just before close, when I was alone. He knew I was the only one there, and he knew half my life history and my financial situation.”
I tried not to balance on the edge of my seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris mirroring my body language and inwardly rolled my eyes. He still had so much to learn. “Did he tell you how he found all that out?”
“No. But he offered me a position,” Sarah swallowed hard, her eyes suddenly coming to life and searching mine. “A business proposition. I couldn’t refuse.”
“Because you needed the money to save the salon? Don’t you have any family who could have helped? Most people would turn to them before jumping into a situation like this.”
A shadow moved in her eyes as she chewed on the corner of her mouth with her perfectly aligned, white teeth. Shoulders drawn, she looked at the bar, seemingly catching her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. “No.”
“He’s the one you delivered those kids to, isn’t it?” I’d known it the moment she mentioned the swagger. His ego had radiated across the parking lot the night Chris and I followed her.
She nodded.
“So why couldn’t you refuse and deal with bankruptcy, if that’s what it came to?”
“Because this kid–and I’m telling you, he wasn’t more than twenty-five–wearing genuine Armani and a Rolex waltzes in with more than just general information. He knew explicit details, including my application for a bailout loan at the bank. He knew…things no one should.” She chewed on a nail, slightly rocking in her seat. “He said his employer could make it all go away.”
“What other things?”
Her glance came and went so fast I barely caught it. “Personal things. I had no choice.”
“You had no choice, really?”
“Not with all the information he had.” She didn’t elaborate further. “So after a few negotiations,” she rolled her eyes, “I accepted.”
Whoever this guy was had more than financials on Sarah, but right now wasn’t the time to hammer her on that. Pushing the wrong issue too hard would make her close up. “This kid, he give you a name? Anything we can use?”
She snorted. “Yeah, and that’s when I knew he was no more than a street kid riding the coat tails of some rich sugar daddy. He strutted around like he owned the place. And while he tried to speak eloquently, every once in a while he’d slip up and sound like he came straight from the ghetto. Preacher.”
I didn’t recognize the nickname, but I’d have both Kelly and Kenny check on it. “Wow. Sounds like a well-established pimp.”
“Exactly. He’s arrogant and bossy, but he’s good at keeping things secret.”
“Come on. You’ve got to have something we can use.”
Sarah gazed at the bar, the seconds ticking by. Finally, she turned back to glare at me with steely eyes. “I’ve been blackmailed once already. At least I’m getting something out of it. I still don’t know what you’re going to do to help me.”
She’d already given more than I’d hoped for. Was she looking for a way out of the mess before I interfered? “You really want to keep this life up? It’s got to be stressful.” I appealed to her base needs. “Stress ages a girl, you know. Fast. And if you’re dealing with an actual network, it’s only a matter of time before some
one slips up. Then you’re really going to lose everything. Including your freedom.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that?” She snapped, leaning forward so quickly I barely kept myself from jerking away. “My question is, what are you going to offer me that I’m not getting now?”
“A way out,” I said. “If we take your boss down, we can milk him for enough money to keep you going and get you out of this mess.”
“And I need your help with this because?” She raised her eyebrows.
I smiled. “Haven’t we established that I’m especially talented at getting what I want? And I still have the phone. Which only points to you, not Preacher or the big boss. Is that fair?”
Her lips quivered. “Can you protect the clients?”
This time, I couldn’t stop the quake generating from the disgust rippling through me. “You want to protect the…men?”
“Everything is done with consent.” The lights cast shadows on her hardened face, and for a moment, she looked like the monster of nightmares. “If those guys are busted, I’ll lose half the salon’s clientele.”
It took me a minute to catch on. “The wives?”
A single nod.
Anger coursed through me so strongly I had to turn away, letting my hair fall around my face. As if we were connected, Chris’s head jerked up and his gaze caught mine. His eyebrows raised in question, and I gave the slightest shake of my head.
“All right. So if we’re going to protect those men,” my jaw clenched on the words, “we need something exceptional on your boss.”
“I don’t have it,” she said flatly. “Preacher is the go-between. I’m a facilitator. There are more like me. Don’t know how many.”
“Who finds the boys? The clients?”
Another noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know for sure. Maybe Preacher. He gives me client names, has me match them up with, you know. I set up the appointments.”
“How about payment? I’m assuming these dudes are paying premium.” Riley only expected seventy-five bucks. No way was that the real fee.
“All handed via a secure account on a foreign server,” she said. “Client pays. Once a week, I get my 35% cut.”
“Out of how much?”
She looked down and then across the bar at the other patrons. I wondered if she was thinking how sick and selfish and robotic she seemed. Dress it up all she wanted–she helped kids sell themselves for money and took a cut. She was a pimp.
“Starting fee is $3,000.”
I didn’t blanch. “But you don’t handle transactions.”
“I’m paid in cash.”
“How much does the boss get? Or Preacher?”
“No idea.” She shifted, her right hand drifting for her bag. “Look, I’ve honestly told you all I know. I get the sense Preacher is the guard dog. He’s never given me any idea who the boss is. Preacher refers to him as “he.” That’s the best I can tell you.”
I searched her drawn face. Liars are usually easy to spot, especially if you’re one of them. Sarah was telling the truth. “He’s cocky, thinks he’s in charge of the world. We need to shock his system.”
“What do you mean?”
I took a drink of the club soda, letting the cold liquid slide down my throat. Keeping my eyes on her nervous face, I smiled. Let her worry. “There’s only one time we’ll know for certain where he’ll be. When’s your next payday?”
Her eyes narrowed, face again thinning into a malevolent caricature of herself. “I suppose you want a cut.”
My smile widened. “What else am I in this for? Fifteen percent will do.”
“He’ll never pay me with you there.”
“Oh, I know. I’ll be waiting in a safe spot down the street. I’m good at hiding, and I’ll have back up, so don’t think of doing anything stupid. I’ll pop by after I see Preacher leave.” I rested back in my chair. “So, day and time?”
She wanted to slap me. I saw it in the way her skin turned red, her hands gripping her bag tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. “6:15 tomorrow. Just after close.”
“I’ll see you then.”
More gleaming hate as she rose to leave. She shouldered her expensive bag, buttoned up her fashionable cape. Adjusted her pricey bracelet. Perhaps her materialistic needs had a part in her business failure, but people like Sarah don’t want to be held accountable for their choices. It was much easier to lie to herself, to convince her guilty conscience that she’d done what she had to do, that she was desperate. No other choice. That’s the only way she could sleep at night.
It’s the only way I can close my eyes.
“Preacher isn’t a nice person,” Sarah said. “He might be playing rich boy now, but he came from the streets. He’s a modern day pimp with better clothes but an even more vicious streak. If he realizes you’re involved, we’re both in trouble.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
She shook her head. The corners of her mouth were drawn, her eyes not quite meeting mine. “Your decision.” She turned to leave.
I snatched her wrist. “Don’t stand me up. Or tell anyone about this. You’re in just as much trouble as me if you do.” Sarah’s head whipped around. Her slitted eyes flashed between my grip on her and my face.
She dug her nails into my hand until I released her. “How dare you put your hands on me.”
“Don’t play any games with me tomorrow.” My low voice still seemed to carry over the chatter. “Or I’ll have the police and the press at Exhale before you know what hits you.”
“Fine.” Sarah stalked to the exit. She might call Preacher and warn him, but I doubted it. Her hatred of him was too obvious. She wanted out.
Chris and I would stake out positions separately, and hopefully one or both of us would be able to follow Preacher home.
A martini appeared before me. “Can I buy you a drink, and we can talk about that garbage you’re dying to take out?”
Chris’s grin and his cheesy throwback to our first meeting almost made me smile. Instead, I motioned for him to sit. He obliged, taking the seat Sarah had vacated.
“You okay?” He asked.
“Right as rain.” I took a long pull of the martini. “I love hanging out with the scum of the earth. Energizes me, you know?”
He ignored my sarcasm. “You could always walk away from this.”
“This scum, that scum. They’re all the same.”
“Maybe.” He finished his beer. “But don’t you think about it?”
“About what?”
“Leaving all of this behind. Pretending this life never happened and starting over somewhere new, where you don’t have to hide who you are.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible. There’s evil everywhere. I’d manage to find it.”
“Because you seek it out.”
I didn’t argue the point because I had nothing worthy to combat it with. “What do you want me to do? Head out to the country and become Amish?”
He started laughing. “Nah. I’d miss you too much, so I’d have to follow. And I don’t want to be Amish.”
I rolled my eyes, but I was grateful for the brevity. I needed time to breathe before thinking about the next step, and Chris knew exactly how to lighten my mind, if only for a minute.
“I need your help tomorrow,” I said. “It might get dangerous.” My anxious fingers drummed the table as my toe tapped an uneven beat.
Chris’s fingers brushed mine, stilling the movement. “That’s fine. If you promise me–”
“I promise. When this is over, I’ll devote all my attention to your mother.”
9
Snow rained down in fat flakes making for a miserable evening commute. I pulled my wool cap down to my chin and knotted my scarf. Tucked under the awning of the homemade candle joint two businesses down from the salon, I made a show of typing on my phone. Just a cold woman with her hair hidden by a dowdy winter cap and wearing tortoise shell glasses too big for her face. I ducked my head, letting the prescriptio
n reading glasses slip down my nose so I could see clearly over the rims.
A few minutes before six, the snow started coming down thicker. Hopefully Preacher wasn’t late. I’d been out here for twenty minutes, and the cold had already seeped through my heavy clothes. I squinted down the street, searching for Chris. He’d snagged a parking spot with a decent view. My car was in the parking garage five blocks down.
The spa’s windows were dark, but Sarah closed at five on Tuesdays. I’d always thought that was strange, but now it made sense.
I scanned the bustling crowd for someone matching his description. Most were late shoppers or store employees hurrying to get home before the roads got worse. Six o’clock came and went. Despite my winter boots, my toes ached with cold. Needing a distraction, I called Chris.
“How’s your warm car?”
He laughed. “You’re the one who wanted to be on the street.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it.”
“I’ll take you for a hot toddy after this.”
“A hot toddy? What are you, an Irish grandpa?”
He laughed again. “Maybe. Any sign of this guy?”
“Nope. I’m assuming he’ll stand out.” A particularly bulbous snowflake dropped into my eye. Cursing, I rubbed out the moisture. Good thing I wasn’t wearing mascara.
“Luce.” Chris’s voice was no longer playful. “Twelve o’clock.”
“I see.” A lanky man strode toward the spa. This time, instead of jeans and a heavy jacket, he was decked out in a shiny suit and trench coat, as if he were a lawyer or an accountant. But it was the walk that gave him away, and only to those paying attention. He didn’t walk with the fast pace of the harried businessman with too many clients and not enough time. No, this kid had a long stride that could only be described as a rhythmic swagger, a dance reserved for only the coolest of the cool kids–the same one I’d witnessed the night of our stakeout. He reached Exhale’s door and knocked.
Without a word to Chris, I ended the call. Like most overconfident young people, Preacher’s serene expression quickly twisted into one of impatience. He shaded his eyes and peered into the locked door, then knocked again. Checked his watch. Mumbled.
