by Julia Derek
I could easily see how Sophie would have been able to trick me into doing something like that. I did have a short fuse and I especially hated men who beat up women and children.
But now Sophie would be working for me, while Mom thought that she still worked for her. Sophie would take a break from her studies at the library and focus all her free time on following Mom around in the hopes of catching her doing something illegal. Combined with the GPS tracker on Mom’s limo, it should only be a matter of time before we stumbled onto something. Because she had to be up to something. People like my mom didn’t just stop their criminal activities. Based on all I had read about true psychopaths, they were compelled to break the law over and over. Keep killing and hurting people. In the end, Mom would be the one who ended up behind bars.
As I went to bed that night, I pondered all that had happened, the progress I had made. I had told Sophie an abbreviated version of all that Mom had done to me, and not only had she believed me, but she had also said that she’d suspected something was off with Mom. Sophie had followed Mom’s story in the media over the years, and given how much she supposedly loved me, it didn’t compute that she so badly wanted to see me back in jail.
Mom had naturally claimed that it was for the good of the world, that a person like me—a psychopath—was incurable. A person like me needed to stay behind bars forever. Mom being a licensed psychologist, Sophie had believed her at first, but the more she had gotten to know Mom, the more her faith had begun to waver.
Something was just not right with Mom, Sophie had rightly concluded. But then she felt she was too far into the conspiracy that she didn’t know how to pull out. She freaked out about what she was doing, telling Mom she didn’t feel right about setting me up, but Mom kept convincing her that she had to follow through.
Then, out of nowhere, I had put her on the spot and Sophie had broken apart, telling me everything. It seemed almost too good to be true, though, in this case, I believed it actually was.
Much to my relief and surprise, I managed to fall asleep that night. For the first time in ages, I slept deeply for several hours straight and felt rested once the alarm clock went off in the morning.
I nearly bounced out of bed and headed into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. As I ate cereal with milk and drank some coffee, I thought about how great everything was turning out for me. I had not only flipped Sophie, making her agree to help me instead of Mom, but I wouldn’t have to pay her a dime for it. Sophie felt so guilty for what she had done that she felt she owed me any help she could give me, getting Mom where she belonged.
I hoped that part of her eagerness to help me was because she felt the same way about me as I felt about her. I didn’t quite want to admit it to myself yet, but the truth was, my feelings for Sophie were growing stronger by the day. I was well on my way falling in love with her. Scratch that; I was already in love with her.
She had told me she didn’t know if Mom had installed cameras and mics in my apartment, but she thought it was possible. Not that it was part of the plan to set me up for a second time, beating up a dude that harassed Sophie. Sophie had never met either Ariel or my sister, but from what she had been able to tell, Ariel was not involved in Mom’s schemes. It seemed Ariel had no idea what Mom was really like.
After work and the gym today, I would head over to the studio and start the painting of Ariel and Neera. They would meet me there at six and stay for two hours. That was all the time Ariel could spare at the moment. I was eager to get started.
I took a shower and got dressed. As I was pulling a shirt over my head, I noticed that it was still early, only 9 40. I had some time to kill before I headed to work. I figured I might as well go up and say hi to Sophie, see how she was doing today. She must have quite the hangover as drunk as she’d been. I chuckled to myself. Talk about a lightweight. I hadn’t yet been drunk myself, but I had witnessed a few of the guys in juvie drinking in secret, not to mention heard them talking about boozing it up. It seemed it would take most people ten margaritas before they really felt it.
I climbed the stairs to her floor and knocked on the door. It was dead quiet in the stairwell, as well as behind her door. I knocked again, a little harder this time. Still nothing happening from inside Sophie’s place. I scratched my head. Could she be sleeping? It was only a quarter of ten and we had gotten back late, so it was possible.
I’m not sure what prompted me, but suddenly my hand was on the doorknob and I twisted it. The door slid open. She must have forgotten to lock the door.
I pushed it open all the way and walked in. It was completely still in the apartment. I could hear the sound of an emergency vehicle driving by somewhere in the distance, then a couple more. Children somewhere outside were yelling. I went from room to room, the silence in the apartment making me increasingly uneasy. She wasn’t in her bedroom, either. The door had been left open and the bed was made.
Did that mean that she never went to bed last night? From all appearances, she had not been sleeping in her bed. Just to cover all bases, I checked her bathroom and the one walk-in closet. Both were empty. One large but ratty bath towel had been tossed over the shower door in the bathroom and there were no clothes in the closet. I frowned deeply as I switched on the light and looked around the gaping shelves and naked garment rods with all the empty hangers. I walked back out into the apartment and noted that, in fact, there were no clothes or shoes anywhere.
Had Sophie packed up all her stuff and left in the middle of the night? I suppose she could have. I had slept pretty deeply. Maybe she had left me a note somewhere. I went from room to room, finding nothing of the sort.
I leaned against a doorway, feeling faint all of a sudden. This was not good. I didn’t want to believe that Sophie had changed her mind about helping me. She had seemed so eager, so remorseful. I refused to believe all of it had just been an act. She had been truly drunk. Who could act in such a state? No, I hadn’t been mistaken. She had meant every word.
It suddenly hit me what must have happened. Mom must be involved somehow. Mom had seen us together and had found out what Sophie had told me at the bar. Then she had taken care of Sophie. Yes, I nodded to myself, fury surging in my veins. That made a lot more sense.
“That fucking bitch,” I muttered to myself between clenched teeth and made myself leave Sophie’s place. There was nothing I could do for her by remaining there.
As I made my way down to my own place, I told myself that maybe I was overreacting. Maybe it wasn’t quite as bad as I had feared. Maybe Mom hadn’t abducted Sophie. I mean, would she really bring Sophie’s entire wardrobe with her in that case? That seemed like a big risk to take. Then again, you never knew with Mom. She did all kinds of odd things others didn’t. And, the fact of the matter was that, if Mom also took the clothes, it wouldn’t seem like Sophie had been abducted. It would instead seem like she had left of her own free will. A chill went through me as I considered that. I’d much prefer it if Mom wasn’t involved. It would be better for Sophie.
I sighed. Maybe Sophie had just freaked out in general and decided to take off. Gone back home to New Jersey. Made herself disappear. A pang of hurt went through my heart at the thought. If she had done that, she sure didn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about her.
Well, the girl was a stripper, I thought bitterly. Most strippers were a little or a lot mentally unstable. Why else would they strip for a living? No normal girl did that.
When I saw Ariel later, I would ask him about Sophie and Mom, see if Mom had been out last night. Maybe his answer would enlighten me somehow.
21
Ariel and Neera were already inside the studio when I arrived at six later that day.
“Shay!” Neera exclaimed at the sight of me and slid off her father’s lap where he sat on a chair. She padded over to me with her arms outstretched as usual, her light brown locks skipping. “Pick me up, Shay. Pick me up!”
“Hi Neera,” I smiled and scooped her up in my
arms, settling her against my hip. She wore a frilly blue dress with white tights and black patent Mary Janes. I could see how she had total control over her father. The little girl was adorable. Completely irresistible.
She gave me a wet kiss on the cheek, then grinned at me. “You gonna paint us?”
“Yes, that’s the idea,” I said. “If your father is still okay with it.” I shot Ariel a look over her shoulder. He pushed himself off the chair and came over.
“I don’t think I have a choice,” he said and smiled wearily.
“Probably not,” I replied and chuckled. I put down Neera, then turned to Ariel. “How are you doing?”
“We’re good. I left my work early and Neera kept badgering me to head over here, so finally we went. It was the only way to shut her up.” He whispered the last sentence.
I chuckled again. “How long have you guys been here?”
“Only about ten minutes. We arrived at five thirty, but we took a walk in the neighborhood. It’s such a beautiful day and Neera wanted to buy ice cream.”
“Ice cream!” Neera cried out, looking up at us from where she had gone over to an easel with a painting I had started the other day. She had been studying it. “Can we go get more ice cream?”
“No, Neera,” Ariel said, trying his best to sound stern. “One ice cream is enough.”
She pouted and turned back to the painting.
“Don’t tell her mother that I bought her ice cream if she asks,” Ariel told me. “She thinks I spoil her too much already.”
“My lips are sealed,” I said and pretended to zip my mouth shut. “You should’ve texted me and I could’ve come earlier. I was just at home, doing nothing.”
Ariel moved a hand in a downward motion. “Ah, that’s okay. I used to live in this neighborhood when I got to America. It was nice to walk around and relive old memories. It’s changed so much. I can hardly recognize it any longer.”
“Really? What’s the biggest change?”
“All the stores. I don’t think any of the stores were around when I lived here.”
“Oh. Hey, was Mom at home last night?” Might as well figure that one out immediately.
“Why do you ask?”
“No, Mom went out when I went to bed,” Neera answered in Ariel’s place. “She didn’t read me my story because she was in a hurry to meet someone. I was so mad.” She scrunched up her little face. “She always reads my story. Daddy had to read instead and I don’t like it when he reads. It’s too scary with his voice.”
“Well, there’s your answer,” Ariel said and laughed. “She was gone for a while. I was asleep by the time she returned home.”
“Who did she meet up with?”
“An old friend from school, she said. I don’t know the person. Why do you ask?”
“Um, I think I saw her when I was out,” I lied.
“Oh. Were you in Manhattan?”
“Um, yeah. I saw a movie with a friend. I’ll have to ask her if she was in the Times Square area.”
Ariel huffed. “That would surprise me. She hates that area. So do I.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes. Many times.”
“Hmm. Maybe it wasn’t her then. Hey, how about you guys sit over here for the portrait?” I went over to a corner into which the setting sun hit the thin white walls, bathing it in warm golden hues.
When we parted ways later, I had an invitation to come eat dinner with Ariel and Mom and Neera the following night. I was looking forward to it because, by then, I might have heard from Sophie. I estimated it to be a 50/50 chance that she had freaked out and taken off on her own early in the morning. She did have my phone number now, and she may realize that it was unkind of her to disappear on me like that. If I was lucky, she would call or text me, leave me a message as to her whereabouts.
I struggled to accept that she would just bolt and not care at all how it affected me. After all, the girl liked me; I had been able to feel that. I really didn’t think it was wishful thinking. And if she liked me, I would hear from her soon. For sure by tomorrow night.
I went back to my old pattern that night, barely sleeping, tossing and turning in bed. All I could think of was what Mom might have done to Sophie if she’d taken her. As much as I didn’t want to consider the abduction option, I had to be honest with myself—it was a very real possibility. I shuddered at the thought of it. I couldn’t imagine that Mom dealt well with betrayals. Someone like Sophie, a stripper from a poor family, would not have a lot of people caring about her disappearance. The more I pondered this, the more worried I got that Mom was the reason for Sophie’s sudden disappearance.
When morning rolled around, I was so wound up thinking about what Mom could have done to Sophie, my regular coffee felt almost unnecessary. Even so, I chugged a large cup, but I couldn’t make myself eat anything, my stomach was so twisted with worry. I went to work, checking my phone obsessively as I waited for it to sound, letting me know Sophie was contacting me. The only time it did sound, I was carrying a stack of dirty plates from a large table at the restaurant. I winced so forcefully I nearly dropped all the plates on the floor. Thankfully, I caught myself before that could happen.
The minutes snailed by and I was in constant tension, my anxiety at an all-time high. It took all I had not to snap at my manager and coworkers at Laslo’s. Whenever my hands weren’t busy with work, I kept my hands on my phone that I had placed in my apron, the setting on “vibrate.”
But there were no calls from Sophie, no texts. My lunch shift was finally over and I had to make myself eat before I left. It had been almost 24 hours since I’d had something and I was beginning to feel weak. I couldn’t afford to also lose my strength. I needed all my faculties to work at full capacity. I closed my eyes briefly, laced my fingers, and muttered a silent prayer after I had finished my meal consisting of a Greek salad and lamb gyros with yogurt sauce.
“You pray after you eat?” a blond waitress named Kelsey asked with a crooked smile. Sitting nearby, Kelsey was a cute girl and often tried to talk to me. Normally, I would have responded something light to try to make her laugh, but today I couldn’t bother. I was in a dark place and I wouldn’t get out of there until I found out what had happened to Sophie.
It’d better be soon.
22
As I walked into my apartment building, hoping to bump into Sophie suddenly, my phone did buzz in my pocket. Stopping dead in my tracks, I stuck my hand into my hoodie pocket and fished it out. My hand trembling, I checked the caller ID before answering. It was from an unknown number.
I pressed Talk and put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Shane?” It was a male voice I recognized but couldn’t place. Then, “This is Otto Barini, your parole officer, calling.”
“Yeah?” Disappointment washed over me in big waves; why did it have to be one of my least favorite people on earth calling me?
“I need to see you,” Otto said sternly. “I need you to come to my office right now.”
I stiffened with fear. What had happened? Whatever it was, it did not sound good. I cleared my throat and tossed a glance over my shoulder. I wasn’t sure why, only that I felt better about having this conversation if I was alone. And I was.
“What’s the problem?” I asked. “We’re not supposed to meet until Thursday.”
“I know, but I need to see you right now.” He rattled off the address to his courthouse office, which was in Queens, but several stations away from where I lived. “Come here right away.”
Before I could protest, he had already disconnected the call. I knew that I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to stay out of jail; I had to do exactly what my parole officer wanted. So I turned around and headed for the subway station that was a few blocks away. There would be no gym for me today. By the time I was back, I would have to get ready for my dinner with Mom and Ariel and hopefully Neera.
Getting to Lindenwood by train took me almost an hour, because
there were two delays on the way. I pictured Otto in my mind’s eye, furious with me for taking so long, his face red and the vein in his tan forehead bulging. I sighed heavily and left the train at the station and checked the map for where the courthouse was located. Only a couple of blocks away, I thought gratefully and climbed the stairs up to the street. I hurried over to the address and walked into the building. According to the bored receptionist, Otto’s office was on the bottom floor and I quickly located it.
His name was on the door. I knocked on it and waited for him to tell me to enter. He did.
Cautiously, I stuck my head inside the office. “I’m here,” I said.
He waved me in with an annoyed expression. “What are you doing over there? Come on in and have a seat. We have some very serious things to discuss. Close the door behind you.”
I closed the door and walked over to the old chair with the rust-colored padding facing his desk. The Venetian blinds were all the way down over the one window behind Otto and the slats turned, blocking any light from entering. It was a nice day outside. Why would someone want to keep it out?
Otto tented his fingers as he took me in for a moment, his deep-seated eyes narrowed into slits.
“How are you doing today?” he asked. “Feeling okay?”
I shrugged. “I’m doing okay.” Why was he bothering to ask how I was doing when something serious had happened? It seemed redundant, a waste of time.
He harrumphed and untented his hands. “Well, you’re a young guy. Of course you’d be okay.” He placed his arms on the desk and leaned toward me. “It’s been brought to my attention that you were out partying yesterday.”
My chin went slack and I stared at him. “I was out partying? No, I wasn’t. Who told you that?”
He sniffed and contemplated me haughtily. “That’s none of your business. Just rest assured that I’m on top of you 24/7. And I know you were out partying yesterday at this Mexican joint back where you live. Papi’s I believe they call it. Ring a bell?”
