All Out of Pretty

by Ingrid Palmer

  I walk over and stop directly in front of him.

  “’Sup?” he says, looking me up and down.

  I nod my head to the side, indicating I’d like to talk privately. He rises languidly and leads me away from the group to a more secluded area. “Yeah?”

  “Jackson sent me,” I say quietly, my heart pinned up in my throat. I hope there’s not some secret password I need to know.

  The guy looks away and then back at me, nonplussed. “Jackson?” he repeats, like he knows a hundred of them.

  “Yeah,” I say hastily, as if annoyed. “Keith Jackson.”

  This seems to satisfy him. Thank you, Facebook.

  “And? You want to buy something?”

  “No. I want to sell something.”

  The kid cocks his head. Then he asks, “How long you been at this school? A few months?” His thumbs hook into his belt loops and my heart skips a beat. He thinks it’s a setup.

  “Look, I’m legit,” I assure him, talking fast. “I work for Judd. Jackson wants to do a side trade with you, but he doesn’t want Judd to know. That’s why he sent me.” I’m hoping name-dropping will work in my favor.

  The guy’s eyebrows crease, but he says, “I’m listening.”

  I glance around furtively. “He got a little extra snow from an outside source,” I say, using the same street name for cocaine that Judd does. “I’m supposed to bring it to you tomorrow night.”

  “How much are we talking?”

  “Twenty Gs.” My voice sounds so much smoother than I feel. All those months of acting have paid off. “And a little extra for you.”

  The kid, whose name I don’t know, tells me where and when to meet him. I nod once, then walk briskly across the lawn and don’t look back.

  If I can skim enough cocaine from Judd’s canisters while I’m working tonight, I can pull this off. Then I’ll have plenty of money for everything. I’ll pay my debt to Judd, go to the pawn shop and buy back Chloe’s jewelry, then try and convince Ayla to leave town with me. We only have to make do for a couple of months on the remaining money—just until January, when Gram’s next check will arrive. And this time around, I’m controlling the cash. And if Ayla won’t come with me…I’m going alone.

  I pat my pocket where the little knife lies flat against my thigh. Amazing how a two-inch piece of metal can make a girl feel so brave.

  Not brave enough, though. The walk home turns into a sprint when I realize how late it is. Judd told me we had a lot to do tonight and I’m not in the mood to put up with his punishments. As I skid into the driveway, I find myself facing a familiar blue BMW. Donovan’s here.

  And not just him. Two other cars are parked in the driveway as well. I’ve never seen so many people at Judd’s house. Suddenly, I am scared enough to consider taking off now, making a run for it with the cash in my pocket. But eight-fifty is not enough to make things right with my friends and then they’d still be in danger. Plus, what about Ayla? No, my original plan is better.

  I sidle inside and straight into some kind of meeting. Judd, Donovan, Donovan’s bald sidekick, one of the dealers from our delivery routes, and…Keith Jackson. They’re all hovering over some maps spread out on the coffee table.

  Ayla is nowhere in sight, so I linger in the background until Judd notices me. As soon as that happens, he pounces. “Where the fuck were you?”

  All eyes turn to me.

  I mumble, “If you wanted me, you could’ve texted.”

  Judd growls, “Girl, I’m gonna—”

  But before he can get another disgusting threat out of his mouth, I shut him up. “I was getting your money.”

  There’s a pause. Then Judd smirks. “Well, boy-howdy! You hear that, Donovan?”

  “I hear a lot of squawking.” Donovan’s eyes crush me as he steps forward to stand next to Judd.

  “So your big plans came through, Bones?” Judd cackles. “I don’t believe it.”

  I reach into my pocket and pull out the bag of cash. I toss it to Judd because I don’t want to get within arm’s reach. “Believe it.”

  His eyes widen as he draws out all the bills. “Well, I’ll be damned…” He starts counting.

  “It’s all there,” I assure him, trying to sound tough. “Now we’re even.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Judd and Donovan look at each other and bust out laughing. Soon the other men in the room are snickering, too. I keep my cool, but inside I’m confused. This is what he wanted. This is what he said I had to do.

  “There ain’t no ‘even,’” Judd gasps between guffaws. “But I will say I’m surprised.” Then his eyes darken. “You didn’t steal it from me, didya?”

  “No!”

  “Where’d you get it?” he presses, taking a step closer.

  I take a step back. “I stole it from someone else.”

  Someone near me titters, but Judd doesn’t blink. “Is this ‘someone else’ gonna come looking for it?”

  “No.”

  He hands the bills to Donovan, who begins counting them again. “Your mama gave me the last of her debt today, too. When it rains, it pours, eh?” Judd says to the crowd. Everyone chuckles. I wonder how Ayla repaid her debt, but part of me doesn’t want to know.

  The men return to the maps on the coffee table. At a glance, I can see the woods drawn on the top map, with little paths snaking around and several square boxes marked with Xs. The sheds, I think. Judd notices me looking and points toward the cellar. “Go help Ayla. Now.”

  My feet shuffle listlessly across the room and snag on the peeling linoleum in the kitchen. I look back and see Donovan shoving my payment into his pocket like it’s a handful of change. He and Judd laugh about something and turn back to their plans.

  Suddenly, everything is crystal clear. This hell won’t end with an eight hundred dollar payout or a high school diploma. Not in two years or twenty. Despite Judd’s plans and promises, I am certain that these men will never let me go. The deal I made so hastily with Judd back in April, when I was starving and scared, is eternal.

  I walk numbly down the cellar stairs. All the lights and lanterns are on, and Ayla sits hunched in a chair, biting her fingernails to the nub. They are so red and raw it hurts to look at them. A few ripped garments lay across her lap. She jumps when she hears me. “Damnit, Bones!”

  “Are you okay?” I ask because something is off about her, something more than usual.

  “It’s changin.’ It’s all about to change.” She sounds worried.

  “What do you mean?”

  She gestures around the cellar and I see what she means. Every box is turned upside down in the middle of the room. All around us are toys, clothes, appliances—the last of Judd’s merchandise. “We’re getting rid of it all?”

  She nods. “There’s some new plan. Judd won’t give me details, but after we unload this stuff…everything’s gonna change. I don’t like it, Bones.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, determined. “We’ll be on our own soon.” Grabbing a baggie off the table, I stride across the room, pry the lid off one of the canisters, and reach down to pull out the hidden container of the powdery stuff. I knew it would be here. Judd always keeps the cocaine close to him, never in the sheds. I load the baggie as full as I can, then seal it. There’s no scale handy but I’m pretty sure it’s enough to satisfy Jackson’s dealer at the high school.

  “Bones!” Ayla hisses in surprise. “You’re using now?”

  I want to shake some sense into her, but instead I shake my head. “Just selling. Trust me, Ayla. I’ll take care of us from now on.” Glancing furtively at the stairs, I stuff the baggie inside my pants. I feel the gratifying poke of my knife as I reposition everything. “What are we supposed to be doing, anyway, the usual?”

  Before she can answer, Judd opens the cellar door and leads Baldy downstairs. The bag of coc
aine feels as heavy in my pant-leg as Chloe’s jewelry did in my pocket. I bend over and pick up some toys so Judd can’t see my face. He rattles off instructions and leaves Baldy to oversee us.

  We work into the wee morning hours, hiding the drugs and breaking down boxes, until I’m so tired my head keeps bobbing down to my chin. When we finally finish filling the orders, we’re sent upstairs. I want to stop in the kitchen for some food, but Keith Jackson is in there so I dart past. Ayla comes with me up to the attic because the men are working through the night and using Judd’s bedroom. They are still making plans, murmuring about “the new operation.”

  With Donovan around, Judd’s not taking any chances. Shortly after Ayla and I are sent upstairs, the lock on my door turns. I’m used to it, but Ayla starts trembling and scratching at her arms, agitated. I really have no patience for her sudden fear and paranoia. How does she think I live?

  After hiding the contraband cocaine, I pull out my stash of food and share everything that’s left. Eating settles Ayla’s nerves. She even says “thanks” between bites. After that, I turn off the light.

  It is the strangest thing, lying in the dark beside the woman who gave birth to me, our hipbones touching. I feel like I should say something, or she should. We’re so tired, though, that both of us drift off without uttering so much as “good night.”

  I dream of another bed, in another house, in another lifetime. I am four years old and nestled into the curve of someone’s body, my hair lightly stroked. A lullaby is whispered more than sung, near my ear. Sighing contentedly, I feel whole and good and right. Even before I wake, I’m aware that this is not a dream. It’s a memory. My memory—not one from Gram’s book. And though I am certain the person lying with me was Ayla, I still find myself murmuring “Gram” as I roll over.

  Fingers poke me. “I ain’t your Gram, Bones. Wake up.”

  My eyes don’t feel like cooperating, but I force them open. I’m sure they look puffy and red, like Ayla’s do. Except that her irises are the color of autumn with green flecks in the middle, and mine are the color of a misty spring sky.

  I look toward my hexagonal window, at the pink-tinged sunrise beyond. This is it, I think. Tonight, I will be done with this place, with this world. And maybe even with my mother. I glance around the attic room and say a silent goodbye since I might not have time to do it later. Then my gaze lands on Ayla. She is half dressed and her body is skeletal. My nickname would fit her better, I think.

  “Why do you call me Bones?” I ask suddenly, knowing this may be my last chance to get any information from her. I wasted those chances with Gram, but I won’t make that mistake twice.

  Ayla looks a little surprised at the question, but she answers. “It…reminds me of when you were born.”

  My eyes narrow, wondering if this has something to do with my rapist father. “What about when I was born?”

  Ayla’s face clouds. “You were too small. Undernourished, I guess. They kept you in the hospital until you gained weight.” Now her voice turns bitter. “The looks those nurses gave me…like I was scum. And just because I wanted a cigarette.” She stands abruptly and turns away.

  As usual, it wasn’t about me or my health. It was about how Ayla felt. The bitterness I feel is so acidic, I can taste it. Gram was wrong about Ayla. She’ll never change. Maybe I won’t even ask her to come with me tonight. Maybe it isn’t my job to save her. But I do have one more thing to say.

  “It wasn’t my fault, you know. What he did to you.” My voice is strong, clear.

  I wait for some response, anything, but Ayla stands perfectly still.

  “It wasn’t your fault, either,” I add, softer.

  She nods once, a movement so slight that I could’ve easily missed it. And that’s all I get.

  Downstairs, the men start thumping around preparing for the busy day ahead. So we do the same. After breakfast, the cars are loaded. Ayla is riding with Judd and Keith Jackson. Donovan orders me into his blue car with Baldy. I glance at Judd for confirmation, but he doesn’t see. Reluctantly, I climb into Donovan’s backseat. I don’t like being separated from Judd and Ayla, crazy as that sounds.

  Before we leave, Donovan turns and gives me a once-over. He presses his lips tight. “My girls wear dresses,” he says.

  I scramble out of the car, biting my tongue. When I see Judd still loading supplies into the other trunk, I decide to risk everything. Turning to Donovan’s open window, I say loudly, “I work for Judd, actually. I’m only supposed to take orders from him.”

  Judd smirks at this and Donovan looks like his face is going to explode. Donovan hollers at Judd, “You hear that?”

  “Told you she was loyal,” Judd responds like he’s pleased with me. He is almost jovial when he says, “Go put on that dress anyway, girl. Make Donovan happy.”

  So I do. Even though the tight red dress Judd picked out makes me feel like the lowest form of trash. And there’s no place to hide my knife, which I’m inclined to bring along. Deciding it’s not worth the risk, I leave it hidden with the bag of cocaine and Gram’s watch.

  As I come downstairs, I notice the maps from the night before laid out on the kitchen table. No one is around. The men are all out in the driveway. I look down at Judd’s cell phone cupped in my hand and make the decision. Flipping the phone to camera mode, I tiptoe into the empty kitchen and snap photos of every paper on the table—codes and instructions and addresses. Maps of Louisiana and Florida, which make me wonder if Judd is planning to move me and Ayla away from here. My hands are shaking and I have to steady my elbows on the table so the photos don’t come out blurry. If anyone walks into the house right now, I’m dead.

  Moments later, I race outside to Donovan’s blue BMW, where his eyes pierce me like a saber. Judd, however, is still grinning from my earlier show of allegiance. I’m glad that I’ve increased the tension between those two.

  Now, I just have to hope Donovan won’t hurt me for it.

  Chapter 38

  I pray that we’ll caravan behind Judd and Ayla, but we are on completely different routes all day. In our car, Baldy is the lookout. Donovan does most of the deals himself while I stand beside him and steel myself against the men’s roving eyes. Donovan is friendly with some dealers, all business with others. As for me, he plays the part of a gentleman suitor. He holds the doors open, puts his arm around my shoulder…whispers that I’m distracting everyone and then laughs. I tolerate what I can and try not to dodge away.

  Sometimes Donovan leaves me in the car with Baldy and goes inside alone. I casually ask Baldy some questions about the business, like, “So what’s the new plan?” and “Is this Donovan’s normal route?” because the more information I can give the police later, the better. But Baldy sits there mute, like I didn’t say a word.

  The deliveries go on and on. I chew my lip, wondering when—wondering if—we’re going to hook back up with Judd and Ayla. At five o’clock the last box is empty and Donovan pulls onto the highway toward Haydon. I finally relax a little and gaze out the window. The sky was full of colors earlier today, smoky blues and grays punctuated by bulbous white clouds. Now the magenta sunset sneaks in and takes over the horizon. I think of Chloe and our Sunday sunrises, and ache at how much I’m going to miss her.

  I try to pinpoint where things went wrong, but there are too many spokes on that wheel to count. All along, I thought I was being so smart. But maybe being book-smart and being life-smart are two different things. Perhaps I have more of one and not enough of the other. How else to explain it, me pushing Brick away? Stealing from Chloe. Betraying the only two people I’ve cared about in the last twelve months. If I’m so smart, then why…why do I feel so stupid?

  Instead of heading straight back to Haydon, Donovan stops at a diner where the waitress is infuriatingly slow. He doesn’t ask what I want, just orders me an iced tea and a salad with no dressing. “I know how you women like to watc
h your calories,” he says.

  I don’t argue. I also don’t eat, because my stomach is clenched too tight. I can’t stop looking at the clock on the wall. Chloe and Brick expect me by six-thirty at the latest, and I need to change clothes and retrieve the baggie from Judd’s attic first. I really hope they wait for me. This is my one chance to do something nice for Chloe before she finds out what a horrible person I am.

  “You late for something?” Donovan asks, following my gaze to the wall.

  “No,” I say quickly and take a forkful of the dry green leaves. His dark eyes watch me choke them down.

  Judd’s car is already in the driveway when we pull in at six-forty. I can hear the music and smell the joints being smoked as we enter. Judd calls Donovan into the kitchen for a hit, and the way Donovan glances at me makes me worry that he’s going to insist I come play, too. Luckily, his cell phone buzzes at that moment and when he answers it, I bolt for the stairs.

  In the attic, I rip off the nasty red dress and throw it across the room. I pull on my long black skirt and the dressiest black top I own. Shrugging into Chloe’s brown coat, I shove the cocaine-filled baggie into one of her puffy pockets and the cell phone into the other. Then I slip my knife in next to the cell phone and give it a pat.

  It’s going to be a long night. I still need to get to the farmhouse, let Mrs. Masterson snap some photos, and head to the dance. Then somehow I have to ditch Chloe (hopefully Ryan will be around to help with that) and sneak to the baseball dugout at ten o’clock for my “meeting.” Once I hand over Judd’s cocaine and collect the cash, the most dangerous parts of my plan will be over.