by Julia Derek
I don’t know how it happened or when exactly, only that all of a sudden I was lying face up on the floor in the ring. Jorge was hovering over me, slapping my cheek with his hand. I blinked a couple of times, trying to focus.
“Hey man,” he said, looking worried. “You okay? I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. I don’t know what came over me…” He chuckled, embarrassed. “Damn, you went down like a felled tree! I thought I might’ve killed you at first.”
Only then did I feel how much the side of my skull ached, where he must have punched me so forcefully he’d knocked me out cold.
“How… how long was I out?” I asked, still confused.
“Just a few seconds. You came to when I started slapping your cheek. How are you feeling?”
I pushed myself up into a sitting position, feeling dizzy and weak, like my blood sugar had suddenly dipped. It probably had, considering how hard I’d been working out and that I hadn’t eaten more than a couple of fried eggs and toast for breakfast. I usually ate a lot more in the mornings, but I hadn’t felt hungry today.
“Fine,” I said and took the hand he extended me to help me get to my feet. “I’m just a little dizzy and weak. But I’m okay. I just need to eat something. My blood sugar is crashing.”
“You don’t think you should swing by the ER and have your head checked out?”
I shook my head and removed the gloves. “No. I’ve been hit harder than that over in juvie. Don’t worry. I’m cool. Thanks for a great workout, man.” I slapped him on the back and handed him the gloves. “I’m gonna hit the shower and get something to eat. See you later.”
“Later, dude.”
42
By the time afternoon rolled around and I needed to head to the warehouse to meet Ariel, I had developed a bad headache and nausea. It was hard to focus and I was seeing stars every now and then. Going to the ER might not be such a bad idea after all. Except, now it was definitely too late to cancel; Ariel would be pissed and surely never want to speak to me again. I had twenty minutes to spare before I had to leave my place and take the subway to 30th Avenue station if I wanted to arrive on time.
I should lie down and rest a little, I decided and went to my bedroom. I was so tired all of a sudden. I could use a powernap. I’d feel better when I awoke. But before I was able to lie down, my cell phone rang. I grabbed it, checking the caller ID. It was from a number with a Philly area code that I didn’t recognize.
I pressed the Talk button and put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Shane? It’s me, Sophie. I don’t have much time. I need your help. I’ve been kidnapped. I’m in a house somewhere. I got out of my room and found this phone.”
I grabbed the phone tighter, straining to take in all the words that rushed out of Sophie’s mouth. My head hurt. “Sophie? Are you okay? Where are you?”
“Yes, I’m fine. But I don’t know where I am. These men came out of nowhere and grabbed me and shoved me into a dark van. They drove me for hours and hours, days until we finally stopped. They blindfolded me and took me into this house. I don’t know what they want. They just feed me and tell me to wait. Be quiet. You have to help me! I’m so scared, Shane…”
“Don’t be. I’ll help you. Can you get out of the house? Did you try the front door?”
“Yes, but it’s locked. I can’t open it. Then I saw the phone and I thought I should try you. Do you see the number in your phone? Can you have the cops track me down?”
I checked the screen and I did see the number again.
“Yes,” I said. “I can see it. You’re somewhere near Philly. They’ve taken you across the country.”
“Oh God, I think someone’s coming. I have to go. Please save me, Shane. Please.”
The line went dead.
“Sophie? Sophie? Are you still there? Sophie?”
But there was no answer. I turned left and right, not sure what to do. I had to help Sophie. I should call the police, tell them what she’d told me. Give them the number she had called from so they could trace the call. Ariel would have to wait. This was way more important. Sophie’s life was in danger.
Wait. Sophie doesn’t exist, Shane. What are you doing? She’s not for real. It’s all in your mind. But she had sounded so real. How could she not be for real?
My phone rang again then, pulling me out of my head. I glanced down at it in my hand.
Another number I didn’t recognize with an area code from New Jersey. I pressed the Talk key and put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Ariel Friedman has your girlfriend Sophie near Philly. He’ll have her sold as a sex slave in a virtual global auction tomorrow. If you want to see her again, you have to stop him.”
Again, the line went dead.
“Hello?” I said. “Hello? Who’s this? Hello!” It was useless, no one was there.
Livid, I stared at the phone in my hand, at the number from somewhere in Jersey. What hell was going on here? I called the Jersey number back and, much to my surprise, the same man picked up the phone.
“Don’t call me. Stop Ariel. I’ve already risked enough.”
The line went dead. I blinked, trying to make sense of what was going on. My head hurt as I pondered what had just happened. It was all so confusing.
The only thing that seemed clear was that Sophie in fact did exist and that she had been abducted by men connected to my mom’s husband. Ariel, who was involved in global sex trade. As I pictured Sophie naked on a stage with lights shining on her, men putting in offers to get her as their private sex slave, anger boiled inside me, growing stronger by the second.
I fisted my hands, wanting to punch a hole in the wall. Of course she had existed all along. She had been too real to be a hallucination. So Steve was on Mom’s payroll, too, then… Why did I ever trust him, never mind trust him so easily? Now that I thought about it some more, his stories were weak, made no sense. No wonder he didn’t get his hands on Mom’s journal. He had never been to her house in the first place. Dr. Navarro was also on Mom’s payroll to further fuck with my head. SVT Management was in on it, too. Everyone could be bought. Everyone had a price and Mom had the money to pay it. Oh God, it all made so much sense…
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths to calm myself. There was no use exploding with rage. I needed a clear mind so I could think of how to best approach this mess. Fix it. Save Sophie. Should I call the police first or go see Ariel as planned? I needed to leave in a few minutes if I wanted to meet with him and be on time.
I quickly decided that my time was best spent confronting Ariel. That disgusting little pervert… So that was how he’d made all his money. By kidnapping beautiful young women and selling them to other perverts around the world. I’d squeeze the truth out of him. The cops would probably not take me seriously, at least not right away. By the time they did, it would be too late. Sophie would be lost forever. Yes, I would confront Ariel, make him tell me where Sophie was. And if he didn’t, I would beat him until he did. One way or another, I’d get the truth out of him. All the anger surging through my body, all the adrenaline, made me feel better. Or maybe it was the breathing that had helped me, I couldn’t be sure. Either way, I’d use my renewed energy to find out where Ariel kept Sophie.
Grabbing my wallet and keys, I rushed out of the apartment and down the stairs. Soon, I was out of the apartment building and rushing down the flagstone path toward the street. I could hardly wait until I got my hands on Ariel, heard him tell me that his so-called business trip had consisted of him having Sophie abducted in California. He must have spotted her somewhere. Seeing how gorgeous and young she was, he’d had her kidnapped and transported back east to have her sold in his global sex auctions.
As I waited for the train to come in the subway station, I checked the number the stranger had called me from. Yes, that was definitely a Jersey number, I concluded. Philly was right next to New Jersey. The guy must have been one of Ariel’s men who’d had a change of
heart, seen Sophie in the house and decided to do the right thing.
The subway train came roaring along the platform then. My heart was pounding in my chest like I was still sprinting. I could hardly wait until I got a chance to confront evil Ariel. And when I did, he’d be sorry. Very sorry.
43
Jennifer
Shane’s auditory hallucination couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. Thank goodness that I had been listening in on what he was doing at his place! Hearing him talk to Sophie on the phone, who, from what it had sounded like, was kept in some house somewhere in Philly. Kept prisoner and wanting Shane to help her. He’d help her all right…
I reminded Jordan exactly what to say when he called Shane soon after to reveal Ariel’s “secret.” This so-called secret of his would make even more sense to Shane after imaginary Sophie had called him and told him she needed help. I was even more convinced now that Shane would make Ariel have a heart attack so potent it would kill him in seconds. Of course I had Jordan use a New Jersey burner phone to make the call—that way, if something, God forbid, didn’t work out after all, I would have more evidence tying him to Ariel’s murder.
I mean, why the hell would I buy a burner phone in New Jersey? I didn’t live in Jersey City. Jordan did. Okay, that didn’t mean he had actually bought the phone there, but it sure wouldn’t hurt if yet another piece of evidence, albeit flimsy, pointed in Jordan’s direction.
“Make it happen, baby,” I told him and gave him a kiss goodbye before he left to drive Ariel to the warehouse in Astoria for the meeting with my son. Ariel would mix in the anthracyclines in Ariel’s coffee that he always drank in the afternoons. He claimed to need it to be able to focus after his late midday nap that he took every Saturday and Sunday. With his coffee, he often ate a few chocolate chip cookies our chef had made that he loved. Instead of having the coffee at home, he told me he would have Jordan pick it up on the way to Astoria. I prepared a small container with the cookies for Jordan to take with him in the car, in case Ariel wanted to eat them with the coffee.
I made sure that both James and Karen heard that Jordan would pick up the coffee on the way to the warehouse, not have it at home as usual. That was another piece of evidence that would tie my lover to the crime if Ariel were to undergo an autopsy.
I was thankful my husband had made it such a big deal before his nap about having coffee on the way so that he could sleep a little extra before leaving. Him having it at home would have meant that I would have to leave the apartment during his nap. I couldn’t risk being around when he had his coffee later.
To be honest, I no longer thought it necessary for Ariel to ingest the stuff. As pissed as Shane had been, he would no doubt physically assault my husband with such force that the old man’s already weak heart wouldn’t be able to handle it as it was.
But I supposed it didn’t hurt to have the drug in him for insurance, so I had still instructed Jordan to follow our original plan. It wasn’t like the anthracyclines could be tied to me anyway. Jordan was the person who had gotten them from a dealer in Jersey City, where he lived. With the exception of the chocolate chip cookies, I had had absolutely nothing to do with it at any point. The cookies in the town car were laced with anthracyclines. Jordan would throw them out as soon as Ariel had drunk the coffee. No one would know they had ever been in the car. Not even Ariel.
While I waited for Jordan to take Ariel to meet Shane, I would go do my nails. They were overdue for a mani-slash-pedi. By the time I was done, in about an hour or so, I might receive a call from Ariel in which he begged me to call for an ambulance. I smiled at the thought. I could hardly wait to get that call! I would naturally tell him that I would call for help immediately.
If I didn’t receive a call from my husband, I would receive another call, much later, from the police in which they informed me Ariel had been found dead. I wondered how many hours that would take. If it didn’t happen today, I would have to call Ariel’s number a few times to pretend to see where he was. I would have to act like a concerned wife, whose husband was nowhere to be found. Hopefully it wouldn’t have to come to that, though. While I would have no problem convincingly acting that role, I wasn’t in the mood to do so. It would be exhausting.
Oh well, I thought and took the elevator down to the lobby. Whatever happened, I would deal with it. The most important thing was that Shane got back behind bars and Ariel died.
44
Shane
The subway ride to 30th Avenue took almost thirty minutes due to a delay on the tracks. By the time I was out of the train and on the street again, I was nearly five minutes late for my meeting with Ariel. The sweat streamed in rivulets down my back and sides, coating my face, making the shirt stick to my skin. I jogged in the direction of the warehouse, which was only five blocks away from the subway station. My headache had returned all of a sudden, and I wished I had popped some meds before leaving the house. I had been so eager to get to Ariel, though, that it had totally slipped my mind.
Swallowing the pain, I picked up my pace. I would be so pissed if Ariel had taken off already, not giving me a chance to confront him. My phone buzzed in that moment. Still jogging, I stuck a hand into my jeans pocket and fished it out. Quickly, I brought the screen before my eyes to check who had texted me.
Ariel.
I stopped running and read the text: I’m running a few minutes late. I’ll be there soon. Wait for me.
I put the phone back and leaned my elbows against my thighs, catching my breath. No need to keep running. I was only a block away from the warehouse now anyway. Given the fact that his text had just arrived, it seemed I would be the one waiting for him instead of the other way around.
I didn’t mind. It would give me a few seconds to pull myself together, figure out what I would say to Ariel. I had been a frazzled mess since the moment Sophie had called me followed by the call from the Jersey man. Then, on the train, I hadn’t been able to relax because the delay had stressed me out even more, triggering the return of my headache. At one point, I had considered jumping ship and running through the tunnel until I reached the next station, then continue running on the streets. I could easily get out by using the doors in between each subway car. But when I concluded that we were three stations away from 30th Avenue, I had reconsidered. I didn’t think I would get there any faster using my legs. Surely, the train would start moving again as soon as I had crawled out of it.
Thankfully, it did.
I spotted the warehouse down the block as I straightened my body. I crossed the street and walked over there. Sticking the key into the door, I opened it and walked inside. As always, the narrow path between the studios was dark and quiet. I found the light switch and flipped it on.
The thin door to the studio I used to paint had been left ajar. I pushed it open all the way. Unlike the hallway, the big studio was bathing in light from the setting sun’s rays that shone through all the windows along the ceiling. The painting I had started of Ariel and Neera still sat in the easel, reflecting some of the light that entered. I walked over and took a closer look at it. I could already tell it would have been one of my better ones.
Too bad I wouldn’t get to finish it. I couldn’t see how I could ever again be in the same room with Ariel after what I had learned about him in the past hour. I had never been good painting from memory only. He would be lucky if I didn’t end up beating him to death when I saw him next. I’d do my best to restrain myself, though I sincerely thought I should get a pass from the government by killing him. He was a bad man. Who knew what else he was up to besides the sex trade? I had definitely been wrong about him being unlike my mother. No, they were the same, monsters without conscience.
The mere thought of how wrong I had been about my mother’s new husband refueled the anger that had simmered down to a more manageable level. To get control of myself, I reminded myself that I needed Ariel alive. I needed for him to be in good enough shape to tell me where Sophie was kept. My grabb
ing and threatening him would have to be enough.
Feeling myself slowly cool off again, I had a seat on one of the foldable chairs. As I was about to sling a foot over my knee, I heard the front door to the warehouse open and someone walking inside.
It must be Ariel, I thought. That was fast. Faster than I had anticipated. He must have been closer than he had thought. I got to my feet, hearing quick footsteps approaching the studio.
The anger began to fume inside me again, accelerating when I saw the door swing open. I squeezed my hands into tight fists and clenched my jaw, ready to pounce.
Maybe I would kill him after all…
But the man appearing in the doorway wasn’t the short Israeli. It was my neighbor, Steve.
“There you are,” he said, breathing shallowly, like he had been running.
What was that fucking liar doing here? I wondered, getting ready to find out by throwing him against the wall. He must have been stalking me. Stalking me for Mom.
He must have been able to tell how furious I was because he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I know you’re in pain, Shane,” he said in a calm tone, though his frightened expression told a different story. “Please, I’m here to help you. I promise. Jorge told me what happened to you at the gym. That he knocked you out when you sparred him. I bumped into him on the street as I was on my way home and he was worried about you. That you had gotten a concussion, a pretty bad one. He asked me to check up on you as soon as I got home. Convince you to go to the ER and have your head checked out.”
