Two For the Show

by Rhonda Bowen

  He nods. “Yes.”

  “And you remember me taking you back to your condo?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Is there anything else you remember?”

  My heart hammers in my chest, and I can barely breathe as I search his eyes, waiting for his response.

  His brows draw together in confusion. “Waking up on my couch the next morning, you asleep on the loveseat… Was there something else?”

  Conflicting waves of relief and disappointment wash over me. I shake my head and pull my hands out of his.

  “No, there was nothing else.” I slip off the stool and move towards the couch. “That hot chocolate’s not going to make itself, mister. Get a move on.”

  Dutch throws me his heartbreaker smile and turns back to the mugs and kettle which is now whistling. I make my way over to the couch and sink down, willing my heart to stop racing a mile a minute. So, he didn’t remember the kiss. It is just my memory, and it is for the best. If he remembered, we would have to talk about it, then it will be awkward between us and no one wants that. Yes, it is just as well, even though the crushing sensation in my chest wants me to believe otherwise.

  “Did you ever figure out what you had a reaction to at the party?” I ask as he hands me a steaming hot mug before sinking down beside me on the couch.

  He shakes his head. “Nope. The caterers swear there was no seafood in the prepared meals.”

  “That is really odd.”

  “I know.” He reaches for the remote control and switches on my television. I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “Excuse me? So, you’re just going to come in here and make yourself comfortable? What if I had plans?”

  Dutch snorts. “I was standing in your hallway for twenty minutes. Whatever plans you had were this morning.”

  I tilt my head towards him. “How do you know that?”

  “Cause you already cleaned all that gunk off your face and turned back into the Carrie I know.” His forehead wrinkles, confirming the slight edge I think I hear in his voice. “What, no plans with Barden tonight?”

  I purse my lips. “No plans with Gina?”

  He chuckles. “Touché.”

  “Since that topic seems touchy for both of us, how about we agree not to speak about our respective plus ones?” I suggest.

  He flips to the sports channel and finds an NFL game. “Actually, that would just be your plus one. Gina and I… We’ve decided to take a break.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh?”

  “Yeah.”

  I wait, but he doesn’t offer more. And when he doesn’t look away from the game, I know he doesn’t want to talk about it. I still maintain that Gina is slime, but I feel bad for Dutch. Even though I know he doesn’t love her, it still sucks to go through a break-up around the holidays.

  I rub his shoulder gently, but don’t say anything. He sighs but doesn’t turn away from the TV. “Thanks.”

  I am about to ask him about his Christmas plans with Claudia and the kids when the phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  There is no answer, just sobbing on the other end. Cold slices through me.

  “Delia?”

  Her sobbing grows louder and my heart doubles its rhythm.

  “Carrie, I’m in trouble. Big trouble. I need your help.”

  Chapter 18

  “Where are you?” I jump off the couch and run to the door, sticking my feet into boots without a second thought for socks.

  She tells me the address of a hotel I am familiar with.

  “I did what you said,” she sobs. “I said no, but he got mad. We were having drinks in his hotel suite, and he kicked me out. I have no shoes, no coat, no purse. Nothing. I tried to call mom, but she told me to go back. I can’t go back, Carrie...I can’t...”

  The tears blur my vision as I search for my coat as well as one for Delia.

  “Don’t you dare go back in there. Wait for me in the lobby. I am on my way.”

  Delia sobs. “Okay.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I turn around and realize Dutch is on his feet behind me, his coat and shoes already on.

  “It’s my sister...something happened…” I swipe at my face as my voice cracks. “I have to go get her.”

  “Okay. Let’s go then.” He reaches for the door.

  “No, Dutch,” I grab his arm. “It’s okay. I’ll just get a cab and go get her. You don’t have to—”

  “Carrie, my car is around the corner,” Dutch’s voice is the essence of calm. “I’m going to go get it. Get what you need and meet me in front of the building in five minutes.”

  “Dutch...”

  “Five minutes, Carrie.”

  He doesn’t wait for my response and seconds later, I am looking at a closed door. Since I have no one to argue with, I look for a pair of boots for Delia, then grab my cellphone and keys and dash through the door. I make it to the front of the building in time to see Dutch pulling up to the curb.

  “Where are we going?”

  I consider arguing with him for the slightest moment, but the sound of Delia’s sobs echoing in my ear pushes the idea away. I slide into the front seat.

  “West 35th street.”

  We don’t talk as we head across the city, and I am grateful. All I can think about is my sister standing outside some hotel room in her bare feet, wearing tears on her face. Who did Cordelia set her up with? How could she do this to her own daughter? This has to stop. Today.

  I lean forward and point to the large lit up building. “There, right on that corner.”

  Before Dutch can even come to a complete stop, I am out the door and running to the hotel. My eyes scan the lobby as I look for my sister.

  “Carrie.”

  I turn around and barely have time to open my arms before Delia falls into them, her full weight resting on me. I can’t see anything but her long auburn hair as she buries her face in my chest, but I can feel the tight grip of her arms around me and the trembling of her petite frame and that tells me enough. My stomach tightens, and relief pours through me.

  I turn her face upward. “Are you okay?”

  She nods. Short of her red rimmed eyes, everything looks fine.

  “Okay, let’s go.” I drape the jacket over her shoulders even as she slips her feet into my too-big boots. It’s awkward walking, but she doesn’t let go of me as we exit the hotel. Dutch is still waiting at the curb, blocking traffic. Two taxi drivers honk from behind him, but he ignores them as he gets out and opens the back door for us. I slide in next to Delia, knowing that she is not ready to let me go yet.

  “I can’t go back,” Delia moans, her head buried in my neck. “I can’t back to that house.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart.” I rub her shoulder gently. “You’re not going back. You’re staying with me.”

  Those are the only words I get out of her on the drive back. Dutch leads the way up the stairs to the apartment and helps Delia out of her boots once inside. Then before I know it, he is through the door without another word. I admit, I wish he had said goodbye before he left, but I can’t blame him for wanting to escape the drama.

  We are sitting on the couch a while before Delia stops crying and a while longer before she sits up and looks at me.

  “Tell me everything.”

  She pulls her feet up, resting her chin on her knees. Her eyes are still a little swollen, but she looks more together than she was half an hour earlier when I picked her up from the hotel. It still takes her a while to start talking.

  “It was supposed to be quick. An exclusive luncheon for some shareholders of something... I didn’t know the details. It didn’t matter. It was just supposed to be two hours, in and out. All the shareholders are old married men, and it would look bad for him to go alone, which is why he contacted Cordelia.” She took a deep breath. “It was fine at first. He picked me up, was a gentleman, we went to the event and it wasn’t awkward. We were actually having a good time. So when he asked me if I wanted to
have a drink with him in his suite, I said sure. I hadn’t even finished the first drink when he tried to grab at me. I tried to play it off at first, but then he got aggressive, pinned my arms and wouldn’t let me go.”

  Fear trickled through me like ice water in my veins. “Did he—”

  Delia shook her head. “No. I fought him off, told him that wasn’t part of the agreement. When I refused to change the agreement, he got mad, grabbed me and shoved me out the hotel suite. I didn’t even get a chance to get my coat, my shoes, my purse.”

  “But you had your cell phone.”

  Delia nodded. “Cause I still do like you told me. I always keep it...”

  “...in the garter.” we both say at the same time.

  Cell phone clipped onto the garter. Fifty dollars slipped into the padding of your bra. You never knew where you could find yourself in the kind of life we lead. It is always best to be prepared. Delia isn’t the only one who has experienced being locked out of a hotel room without her possessions.

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you, honey,” I rub her back gently.

  She buries her face in her hands. “What am I going to do? When mom finds out...”

  “We can worry about that later. For now, I am more concerned about you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Delia nods and runs a hand through her straightened hair. “Yeah. Just tired.”

  “How about you go lie down for a bit?” I squeeze her hand. “We can talk more later when you’re rested.”

  Delia nods. She stands to go but then sits back down and throws her arms around my tightly.

  “Thank you.”

  I hug her back even as tears spring to my eyes. “You know I’m always here for you.”

  I follow her to the bedroom and watch from the doorway as she lies down. Within moments, her eyes close and she sinks into sleep.

  Weariness settles over me as I flop back onto the couch. I can’t leave her. I can’t go with Sebastien, even though it would be easy. But I have no idea what I will do. When Cordelia finds out where Delia is, she will demand I bring her back. And when I don’t…

  I don’t bother finishing the thought. In fact, I try not to think at all as I sit on the couch, staring at the second hand as it goes around the clock on the wall. Even when I hear the locks, I don’t move. Only Dutch’s voice stirs me.

  “Carrie.”

  I look over at him standing in my doorway with two full, large plastic bags in his hands, my keys dangling from his fingers.

  “I thought you left.”

  He rests the bags on the counter, never taking his concerned eyes off me. “I went to get you some groceries. Since your sister is going to be staying with you at least for tonight, I figured you could use the basics. Carrie, are you okay?”

  I take a deep breath and sobs rush out of me, choking my voice back as tears roll down my face. Within seconds, Dutch is beside me on the couch, pulling me into his arms.

  “It’s okay,” he rubs my back gently. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”

  I wish I could believe him, but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how glad I am that Delia’s date chose to kick her out of the room instead of exercising other more painful options. He doesn’t know how much I blame myself for what happened. I should have made her move in with me. I should have found a way to stop this a long time ago. I shouldn’t have been so weak.

  “Dear almighty Father, we know that everything is in your hands. We know that you are the creator and sustainer of life and we thank you for taking care of Delia today. Thank you for keeping her safe and making Carrie be available to be there when she needed her. I give these women into your hands. Break whatever chain is holding them captive, heal them from the hurt and may they find shelter and comfort in your love. We ask all these things in the name of Jesus, Amen.”

  I like the feeling of Dutch praying for me. There is something calming about it - reassuring. Even though the earth didn’t move after, somehow there was the tiniest shift in me, bringing me to a place where I can start to believe it will be okay, that somehow we will make it through this thing.

  I pull away from Dutch, wiping my face with the back of my hands.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Dutch.” I shake my head. “This is Mother’s fault. She’s the reason why today happened. This is what I was afraid would happen.”

  “Is it?”

  I look up at him, catch the questioning expression on his face. When he speaks again his words are cautious.

  “Is this what you were afraid would happen? Or were you afraid that what happened to you would happen to Delia?”

  I blink. “Yes, but it’s the same thing.”

  He reaches out and wipes a tear from my cheek before speaking slowly. “If this is too much for you to talk about, then let me know and I’ll stop, okay?”

  I nod.

  “This isn’t exactly what happened to you is it, Care?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before taking my hand. “What happened to you was much worse, wasn’t it?”

  I close my eyes, but that doesn’t stop the waterworks from starting up again. I nod, because I can’t speak.

  “Someone - a man - hurt you. Assaulted you.” I hear him to take a ragged breath. “And you never told anyone.”

  My heart thumps hard in my chest, and I swallow hard to push the memories back down.

  “I told someone.” I barely recognize the scratchy whisper of my own voice.

  “But she didn’t do anything, did she?”

  I shake my head.

  “Oh, Care.” He squeezes my hands before pulling me to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  I don’t know how he figured it out. Maybe in the middle of that prayer God showed him something. But somehow, he knew my secret. The one thing I hadn’t even told Morgan. The one thing only two other people in the world knew. He now made three.

  He is stroking my hair gently and holding me tight as if he is afraid I might fly out of his arms, but I am not going anywhere. Not when I am feeling safer in his presence than I have felt anywhere in a very long time. So safe, that for a moment I consider telling him everything. After all, Dutch is way past being just my boss. He is my ally. He is my friend. I know I can trust him. And for some reason, I want to tell him everything - about who Carina Bell really is, about Cordelia’s escort services, about the reason I stay even though I can’t stand it. But just as quickly, the thought disappears. Because as much as I know Dutch cares for me, if he ever finds out who I am, what exactly I do on my weekends out of the city, he won’t be able to stand the sight of me.

  It is almost inevitable though. One day he will find out. New York is too small. The social circle of the rich and powerful is even smaller. It is surprising that my secret world hasn’t collided with his yet. It is only a matter of time. But that time will not be tonight.

  As I let myself be cocooned in Dutch’s arms, I close my eyes and whisper a prayer of my own. I don’t really buy into the God thing. If there is a God, it doesn’t seem like He is very interested in my situation. But if there is and He is listening, I pray He heard Dutch’s prayer. Find me and Delia a way out this prison that Cordelia has us in. Because from where I am standing, we are completely out of options.

  Chapter 19

  The waiting is giving me an ulcer.

  It’s been three days. Cordelia has not called. Delia thinks this is a good thing. I know better. The longer the silence, the more dreadful it is likely to be when Cordelia actually makes contact. And she will make contact - as soon as she has a plan.

  “Delia, I’m home.”

  I push through the front door and drop a grocery bag on the counter before kicking off my shoes.

  The apartment is quiet. Too quiet.

  “Delia?”

  She is not in the bedroom or the bathroom. I shrug out of my coat as I head back to the living room. Maybe she went to school for something. But classes were done. I am hanging up my coat when I see the
note on the counter.

  She called. I’m sorry. I had to go. I had no choice.

  I put my coat back on.

  New Year’s Eve prep is already in full swing at Cordelia’s. It is only December 27, but the house is filled with stylists, makeup artists and racks of clothing.

  I walk through the organized chaos to the third-floor bedroom where I know Cordelia is shooting.

  “Where is she?”

  “Merry Christmas to you too, Carrie,” Cordelia doesn’t take her eyes off the girl posed on the satin sheets of the king sized bed. “I didn’t get your card this year.”

  I step in front of Cordelia. “Where is she?”

  “If you’re talking about my daughter who you tried to kidnap, she’s having her makeup done. She’s up next.”

  My eyes nearly fall out of my head. “Next? You wouldn’t...”

  Cordelia’s eyes shift to me for the first time, and I see the ice there. “I wouldn’t what?”

  “You can’t make her do the auction, Cordelia. She’s your daughter, your flesh and blood. You are going to let random men bid on her?”

  “There’s nothing random about the men participating in the auction and what they are willing to pay for a night of companionship,” Cordelia takes a sip from the wine glass dangling between her fingers. “Besides, that little stunt you two pulled cost me a lot of money. She needs to earn that back.”

  “So you’re saying she should have stayed and been raped,” I snap.

  Cordelia’s nose wrinkles. “Don’t be crass, Carrie.”

  “She is not doing the auction, Cordelia. You cannot force her to do this.”

  “Force her?” Cordelia laughs. “When do I ever force anyone to do anything? She had a choice, and this is what she chose.”

  Delia chose to do the auction? Why? Didn’t she understand what this was? Didn’t she know what would happen? Men would be dropping thousands to spend New Year’s Eve with her. Didn’t she realize the expectation?

  Without another word to Cordelia, I leave the staged bedroom and head next door to the room set up for makeup and wardrobe. I find Delia sitting in front of a vanity, applying blush to her cheeks.