by J H Leigh
“So how does Madame Moirai get these girls to stay on and work for her?” Jilly asked. “I would think that they’d run as soon as they got the chance?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they’re just as much trapped as we were? I’m willing to bet my front teeth Olivia was an auction girl, too. She refused to admit it but I know she was.”
“Well, there’s no freaking way that thick-handed brute fo a woman who ripped all the hair from our bodies was ever an auction girl. The woman’s body was a square and her face was scary enough to make babies cry.”
“I don’t think Madame Moirai fills her entire staff with auction girls but definitely people who have a reason to remain loyal.”
I thought of Olivia, the one who’d shown us to our rooms, locked us in and then after we’d been brutalized and brought back broken, had shown little to no compassion for our pain. I really hoped she burned when I set that place on fire. I didn’t care if she’d been an auction girl at one time, she’d sold what was left of her soul and she deserved a fiery death.
I looked to Jilly. “Is there really no one from your past that you miss?” I asked.
“No, not really. My foster parents were the worst sort and I never got close to foster siblings and because I switched schools a lot, I never made connections there either. I do miss school though. I liked to learn.”
“What was your favorite subject?”
Jilly smiled. “Behavioral studies. Psychology. That kind of stuff. Anything that deals with the human mind. At my last school, I was hoping we’d get to dissect a cadaver brain but I guess that’s not a thing until you get to college with more specialized courses. Not high school.”
“That didn’t gross you out?” I asked.
Jilly’s blank smile was a little chilling. “No? Why should it? It’s not like I knew the dead person, right?”
“You’re a little macabre, you know that?”
Jilly laughed as if I’d just paid her a compliment, saying as she rose. “I know. Dibs on the shower.”
And then she disappeared behind the warped bathroom door, humming.
Something definitely wasn’t right with that girl. Hopefully, Madame Moirai hadn’t completely broken what the foster care system had cracked.
I had to admit, even if I didn’t want to, I was starting to care for the quirky girl. Sometimes she was disturbing but there was also something endearing about Jilly that I couldn’t quite shake.
I guess we were tied together for the foreseeable future and we had to make the best of it.
9
I felt like a caged animal. Days had gone by and Badger hadn’t produced the private investigator he promised. Dylan was busy running jobs and Jilly seemed content to watch television or sleep all day.
I refused to let this become my new reality. I couldn’t believe Dylan wasn’t more careful about running jobs when anyone from The Avalon could catch her off-guard. It would take all of one minute for a van to pull up alongside Dylan, shove her inside, and disappear.
But when I reminded them of that fact, I was being “paranoid.”
Both Dylan and Jilly seemed to have forgotten that we were sitting ducks if we didn’t find some way to protect ourselves.
Cranky without an outlet, I prowled the small apartment vacillating between taking my chances back at home or just taking what cash we had left and bailing. It was all desperate thinking because I knew I wouldn’t do either of those things but I couldn’t take much more of this without movement. I needed to know we were doing something to bring down The Avalon. I needed Madame Moirai’s head on a stick. I needed to know that Tana’s death wouldn’t go unanswered.
But the magnitude of this Herculean task was suffocating me. Hopelessness was a dangerous thing. It crushed everything good and light inside you until there was nothing but a leaden anchor in the pit of your stomach that made every step a challenge.
I didn’t want to sit in this apartment. Not tonight.
Dylan was gone doing God knew what and Jilly was already dozing on the sofa, ready to call it a night.
I couldn’t do it.
The muffled thump of raucous club music bumped beneath our feet, the nightlife coming alive as the DJ started the party. It was ten-thirty and I wanted to go out. I wanted something to help me forget the nightmare in my head that idle time kept playing on a loop without stopping.
I went into the bedroom and opened the closet. I had no idea who the clothes belonged to, Nova, maybe someone else Badger had staying here, but I found a top I liked and tight mini-skirt that fit and put them on. An old but decent pair of heels were in the back of the closet, too. I came out dressed and ready to go. Jilly woke up briefly to frown in confusion. “Where are you going? And why do you look like a hooker?”
“When in Rome, I guess,” I returned with a flippant smile. “I’m going downstairs to check out the club. I’m taking some cash.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Seems to be okay for Dylan,” I retorted, being pissy. Jilly frowned, pursing her lips as my comment was uncalled for but I didn’t care. “If I stay in this apartment a minute longer Madame Moirai won’t have to worry about killing me because I’ll do it myself.”
“That’s drastic,” she grumbled but she seemed to understand. After a long yawn, she said, “Fine. Whatever. Be careful. Don’t let anyone roofie your drink.”
Being roofied seemed like child’s play after what we’d been through.
I tucked the cash into my bra and left.
Being as Badger owned the club, he had a private entrance, which enabled me to bypass the bouncer and the age check. Besides, if anyone gave me trouble, I’d just drop Badger’s name and that ought to take care of any issues.
I was feeling reckless as fuck. It was dangerous to feel this way when there was nothing safe about my situation but sometimes danger made you feel alive and I needed an infusion of life right now.
The music throbbed in time with the lights strobing in the darkened gloom while bodies writhed with sexual abandon. The smell of bodies crammed together tickled my nose while the floor was sticky with spilled liquor or whatever else was thrown around in this place.
I went straight to the bar and ordered a double shot of whiskey. No one could roofie my drink if it went straight back in one gulp. I made short work of the shots and then made my way to the dance floor. I wanted to dance and lose myself at least for a night. I wanted to forget about everything and just feel good again.
In the darkness, surrounded by strangers, I wasn’t the girl who fucked everything up and ruined her life by making a stupid decision with a bunch of shady strangers. I wasn’t the girl who hadn’t known how she was going to pay for college but had been too afraid to tell her best friend. I wasn’t the girl whose mother was a sloppy drunk held together by bad decisions and sheer force of will. I was just another faceless girl trying to lose herself in the moment and let the music heal whatever fracture hurt the most.
But inside everything was broken and the music wasn’t enough. I pushed my way back to the bar and ordered more shots. If the benefit of living above the club didn’t mean I couldn’t get shit-faced drunk and then stumble home, I didn’t know what the hell good it was.
No one would recognize me in this place. It was too dark and there were too many people. I was relatively safe. Except some frat guys, probably from NYU were jockeying to buy my next drink and even though I knew I should tell them to fuck off, I was almost out of the cash I’d stuffed in my bra and I wanted to keep drinking.
“Haven’t seen you around, you new?” Frat Boy #1 said, looking me up and down with a leering grin. “You a freshman?”
“Technically, a senior,” I answered, privately laughing at the lie. Well, not actually a lie, I was a senior in high school, but whatever, details. “Let me guess, NYU?”
“How’d you know?” Frat Boy #1 said, puffing his chest as if he’d accomplished something.
“Lucky guess.”
“Where do you go t
o school?” Frat Boy #2 asked, trying to wedge himself into the conversation. “You look familiar.”
“Do you watch a lot of porn?” I asked. Their shocked and vaguely uncomfortable expressions made the joke even better. I laughed, saying, “I’m kidding. I’m sure you don’t know me.” But I also bypassed the question, adding, “Who’s going to buy me another drink?”
Both guys threw down money, gesturing to the bartender. I was already feeling it. My head was woozy and I felt light and airy. I confided in Frat Boy #1, leaning in to say, “I don’t usually drink. My mother is a raging alcoholic. They say it’s in the genes. I try not to do anything that will shake up that DNA but I’ve had a really shitty two weeks and at this point, becoming an alcoholic doesn’t seem so bad. I mean, my mom doesn’t seem to mind so maybe I’ll give it a shot.”
“I feel you,” he said, trying to commiserate. “My dad threatened to cut off my allowance, like I’m supposed to get a job and go to school? Total bullshit. He’s the one who pushed me to go to NYU in the first place so he can keep paying me to stay here.”
Boo-freaking-hoo. I bit my tongue. Actually, this was exactly the kind of guy Lora would probably end up. Boring ass white guy with a stereotypical chip on his shoulder that smelled a lot like fucking entitlement. I didn’t want him to buy my drinks anymore.
I smiled and said, “It’s dancing time,” and left him behind.
But he tried to follow. I was annoyed to find him in my space. Doing his jerky dance moves, trying to look sexy and I wanted to run away. I didn’t want a dancing partner, just someone to keep buying me drinks but nothing ever came for free.
And I wasn’t interested in paying for a few shots of cheap booze with my body for this dickhead.
I’d never sell my body again. To no one, for no amount of money.
Tears stung my eyes and turned away so he wouldn’t see me cry but his hand on my waist made me stiffen in alarm. I whirled around and pushed him away. “Consent, jackass. Take a lesson,” I growled like a feral animal. “Touch me again and I’ll kick your nuts into your throat.”
Frat Boy #1 held his hands up in surrender and backed away, leaving me alone. I smiled and let the music take control.
At some point, after a few more shots, I found myself slumped on the dirty floor on the way to the bathroom. I hadn’t made it. I was in and out of awareness and I wanted to get back to the apartment but I couldn’t quite remember how to do that.
I must’ve mumbled Badger’s name to someone — maybe the bouncer or something — and suddenly he appeared, collecting me from the floor and helping me up and out of the club and back up the stairs to the apartment. I stumbled but he caught me. He smelled of burritos and sweat — a weird combination — but it wasn’t disgusting like you might think. Kinda made me hungry. Maybe I should’ve eaten before drinking myself stupid.
He helped me to the sofa and gently laid me down. The room was spinning. I might throw up.
“You gonna puke?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
He got a bucket and put it near me. “Don’t puke on the floor.”
“Such a gentleman,” I slurred, pushing down the rising bile in my throat. “Thanks for helping me upstairs. I couldn’t remember how to get here.” Or how my legs worked.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. “That was real stupid.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a kid. I’m supposed to do stupid shit, right?”
“You’re not a kid. You’re like us. Being a kid is a luxury we didn’t get.”
I didn’t have a response. He was right. My childhood had been snatched a long time ago. Way before Madame Moirai had put those fake ass documents in my hand, promising a way out but never planning to deliver.
“Where’s the fucking P.I. Badger? You promised to help.”
“Your problems are not my biggest problem,” he said.
“Fuck you,” I said, my head lolling back. “What about Nova? I thought you wanted revenge for what happened to your sister?”
“Careful,” he warned. “Just because you’re drunk don’t mean you can’t get popped in the mouth for saying what you shouldn’t.”
“You’d hit a woman?”
“If she fucking earned it, sure.”
“That’s fucked up. You’re a real dick.”
He chuckled. “And you’ve got balls of steel for a tiny white girl.”
“I’m a little Native American, too,” I said.
“All right, Pocahontas. Go to sleep.”
“Hey, that’s racist and offensive,” I said, my eyes drifting shut.
“Yeah, well, I’m a dick, remember?”
Can’t argue with that.
Seconds later, I was blissfully unaware of anything.
And it was the best sleep of my life.
Maybe embracing my alcoholic roots wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
10
I woke to Dylan scowling at me. I rose to a seated position, my head throbbing like an evil monkey was using my brain as a drum, to ask sourly, “What’s your problem?”
“You. You are my problem,” Dylan said emphatically.
“Fuck, it’s too early and my head hurts too much to deal with whatever your drama of the moment is,” I said, rising on wobbly feet, the room still spinning. I went to the sink and slurped water straight from the tap. Then, splashed the cold water on my face, hoping it would help the misery in my head. I groaned when it didn’t.
Drying off, I was grateful to see a pot of coffee ready. I poured myself a cup and returned to the sofa, feeling like an old lady who’d been ridden hard by life and put away wet. Dylan was still staring a hole into my head. “What?” I asked, exasperated. “Fucking spit it out already.”
“Have fun last night?” she asked.
“I guess. Why?”
“Because I heard Badger had to save your drunk ass.”
Was this Dylan’s brand of jealousy? Like I’d purposefully hoped Badger would run to my rescue? Good grief, she was off-base and I wasn’t about to argue stupid shit. I shrugged. “I needed a change of scenery. Unlike you, who gets to run around like nothing happened, I’m stuck in this fucking place day in and day out. I’m going insane. And, fuck you, for daring to call me out when you’ve done nothing but run away from this situation since coming back. You’re home, Dylan. We’re not.”
“I found us a place to crash so we’re not staying in old churches and stealing from yuppie vacation homes,” she said. “Now you’re crying because you don’t get to cuddle up in your own bed at night?”
“Give me a break, it’s not like that and you know it. Don’t pretend that you don’t have the better end of this deal. I’m not saying I’m not grateful but what we’re doing right now, doesn’t end with anything but more of the same. We’re not any safer here in this apartment than we were in the abandoned church. Madame Moirai is going to find us if we don’t find her first. Badger promised he’d help. Well, where’s the fucking help?”
Jilly appeared in the bedroom doorway, standing in her t-shirt and long socks. Obviously, she’d overheard us because we weren’t trying to be quiet. “It’s not so bad here,” she said. “It’s a nice apartment. I mean, I’ve stayed in worse. At least there’s running water and a working toilet.”
Way to keep the bar low. “Wake up, Jilly, this isn’t safe and even if it were…what happens next? You plan to spend the rest of your life watching cartoons and hiding from the world? Eventually, Badger is going to want his apartment back. This is a temporary fix for a fucked up situation that’s not getting any less fucked up by ignoring it and hoping it will go away.”
“Don’t yell at me. I told you we had enough cash to get to California,” Jilly muttered, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re the one who wanted to come to the city. We’re never going to do jack shit against Madame Moirai. She has endless resources and we don’t have shit.”
“I’m not giving up,” I fired back. “If nothing else, I’m going to make sure Henri Ben
oit gets what’s coming to him.”
“And how are you going to do that?” she asked, shaking her head. “It’s not like you’re going to bump into him at the country club. You don’t even know where he lives.”
“But I can find out, somehow,” I said, refusing to give up. “That’s what the P.I. is for.” I returned to Dylan, “And why do you care if Badger saved me when I was a drunk mess? What does it matter?”
“Because you shouldn’t get it into your head that Badger is a good guy because he’s not.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” I retorted, irritated that Dylan was being so damn irrational about something so stupid. “It’s not like I’m going to fall head over heels in love with Badger because he dragged me up a flight of stairs and gave me a bucket to puke in.”
“Good because that’s the last thing I need to deal with,” Dylan said.
“How about you worry about yourself and keeping a low profile and I’ll worry about myself,” I said. “The other day it felt like there were a million eyes on me. I wouldn’t put it past The Avalon to have contacts with access to the traffic cams and shit. Being out in the open is dangerous for us.”
“Who says I’m out in the open,” Dylan scoffed as if I were naive. It’s true I didn’t know how Dylan operated when she was running a job for Badger and frankly, I didn’t want to know. Sometimes, I didn’t want to know Dylan at all.
“Are you finished busting my balls over this? My head is on fire.”
Dylan paused regarding me with a speculative stare as if gauging whether or not she believed me, then nodded, reaching into the end table drawer to pull out a bottle of aspirin and toss them at me. “Here,” she said.
I had the wherewithal to catch the bottle, surprised at how lightning quick Dylan’s moods could change.
One minute she was the devil and the next, a benevolent angel dispensing meds.
I gulped aspirin with a swallow of coffee and closed my eyes, waiting for the medication to work.
