“It’s Billy!” Jet cried and wound down the window.
As he emerged from the mist, his face pointed to the heavens, his features came into view and revealed themselves. I found myself, not looking into the face of my father, but of the blind beggar from the diner. He shuffled toward us, pulling off his cap to reach out for spare change.
“You know him?” I asked Jet who was leaning out the window with a fistful of coins. “How does he know we’re here?”
As he sidled up to the car, I saw the lines on his face clearly along with the blackened streaks of dirt on his cheeks. Finally, my heart began to slow but I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. My mind had played a trick on me. I had been so certain it was my father.
“Hey Billy,” Jet smiled and tossed him the change.
He mumbled something incoherent before shuffling away. For a moment, I watched his reflection in the mirror meander away before turning to Jet.
“You know him?” I asked again.
She nodded as she looked back at the ring.
“Everyone knows Billy. The best damn con artist around here. He bumbles about here like he’s blind and everyone believes it.”
She spat out a laugh before her face softened.
“I love the old guy though. Never given me any problems.”
Her eyes were still fixed on the ring but she could sense my unease. It could have been my trembling hand on the gearstick or the smell of sweat. At last, when she was almost blinded by the glamour of the diamonds, she looked over.
“What’s up?” she asked, her eyes widening with concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I glanced back up to the rearview mirror and shivered.
“I thought I had,” I said. “Let’s get the hell outta here. This place gives me the creeps.”
Chapter Six
Etta
My eyes were on the dishes but my mind was on him, the way he held me, kissed me, made me feel like there wasn't a single thing in the world to worry about. With him, it didn't feel like my life was tumbling out of control or that I had just had my heart broken. It felt as though I was starting again with a new purpose. The only fear I had was that he wasn't going to stick around once he got bored of me. I knew he was too good for me, too rich and educated.
What would he want with a homeless nurse like me? He could marry any supermodel or actress he wanted. With his money he could even marry a royal so what was he doing with me? Playing it rough for a while for some fun? I couldn't bear to think of him liking me less than I liked him. As I rinsed the soap suds from the wine glasses, I vowed that no matter how long our relationship lasted, I would relish each moment of it until the end, whenever that would come.
The back door creaked open and I looked up to see Jet's pale face appear in the doorway. She glanced about the room to make sure I was the only one around before side stepping in and closing the door silently.
"Where's the old bat?" she whispered.
"Phaedra? Upstairs in her room I think."
She looked up to the ceiling as though she could see through to the top floor.
"Let's just hope she stays there," she hissed.
There was a wild look in her eye like a fox with his eye on his prey. She fidgeted with something in her hand, twisting something around her finger as she ducked in and out of the hallway.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
Before she could answer I saw it, the glint of the diamond ring. I could tell it was real from the sharpness of the shine and by the way she couldn't stop her attention drifting back to it, her new prized possession.
"What's going on?" I asked.
Without replying, she pressed her ear up to the wall to hear if anyone was in the lounge. I watched her eyes swivel in her head like a chameleon as she took in the sights and sounds of the house. With my hands still wet, I watched her paranoid behavior, the soap spilling onto my jeans. Her hands were still clutching the ring as it gave out the occasional sparkle across the dreary kitchen.
"Jet?"
She ignored me.
"Hey!"
I dried my hands and walked over to her and she flinched as I reached for her arm.
"What the hell is going on?"
This place was a madhouse at the best of times, now it was more like a freakin’ circus.
“You’re with him, aren’t you?” she said, her first words properly uttered since she entered the house.
I looked up at the clock and saw it was midnight. She should have been in bed hours ago, and so should I. For an extended moment we blinked at each other.
“The doctor? Bosworth,” she continued. “You’re fucking him aren’t you?”
I flinched at the word and turned away.
“We’re good friends,” I lied.
She snorted and took a step back while thrusting the ring into her pocket.
"Good friends...." she shook her head. "Good friends don't sneak around after curfew. Good friends don't make the bed squeak like it's being torn apart."
My face blanched.
"You think I didn't hear it. I'm the room below, right? I heard it. Saw him leaving too."
Feigning confidence, I took a deep breath and shrugged before walking back over to the sink.
"So what if we did sleep together? You think other girls in this house don't sneak their boyfriends in?"
I didn't like the way my voice sounded as it came out, harsh and gnarly like I was a lifelong veteran on the streets while I'd not even been in this place forty eight hours. Jet creeped up close behind me and I felt the hairs on my neck rise. Something caught my attention, the distant scent of familiar cologne. Lincolns? There was a cinnamon undertone too and my mind flashed to the air fresher he hung from his rearview mirror, the one that made me remember long forgotten Christmases and the smell of puddings piled high with cinnamon and raisins. My stomach dropped like a stone.
"I don't like him," she said, a little too close to my ear.
I gripped the side of the sink and felt its slipperiness.
"He's a weirdo," she continued. "He does things and we all know it."
The fear and suspicion turned to anger and I spun round.
"What are you talking about?"
She sniffed and took a step back.
"Don't worry about it."
There it was again, the scent of his cologne, rich and musky and like no other. She was with him and I knew it.
"He does nothing," I said. "You've no idea what he's like."
She laughed and shook her head, her long hair falling across her sunken face.
"Really? He's been creeping around this house for years. We all know there's something about him."
Her eyes met mine, steely, dark and threatening.
"What's your problem, eh?" I asked.
I wanted to smack that smug look off her face, show her that I couldn't be intimidated.
"Problem?" she cocked her head to the side. "It's not me with the problem."
She thrust her hand back into her pocket to fumble for the ring.
"Where did you get that?" I asked, nodding to her unseen hand.
"This?" she lifted out the ring.
Below the bare light bulb of the kitchen it glinted like a lost treasure.
"It's worth more than this whole building," she said. "Probably more than this whole shitty street."
"Where did you get it?" I asked again through clenched teeth.
"Wouldn't you like to know," she seethed.
There's was a madness to her eyes that sent a shockwave of goosebumps down my back.
"What... the fuck... is going on here?" I asked, surprised to hear myself swear, shocked by the force and anger in my voice.
She parted her mouth to speak as a dot of saliva dripped onto her bottom lip. A slow breath escaped her as she started to speak, then a voice came from behind her and she froze.
"Jet?"
We both turned to the hunched figure in the doorway. Phaedra was clutching her glasses in between her frail hands
and giving her signature polite smile.
"Jet may I have a word with you?"
In unison, we all looked at the clock.
"But it's late," Jet said. "I should be getting to bed."
"So should I," said Phaedra. "But I need to speak with you rather urgently."
~
Their hushed voices were getting louder by the minute and no matter how much I tried to honor their privacy, I was still drawn to the wall of the lounge, pressing my head against the faded floral wallpaper to hear better.
“Young lady, where have you been?”
“Nowhere!” I could hear Jet protest.
I thought about the smell of cologne on her again and how she clutched the diamond ring in her hand. Where did she get it from? It couldn’t possibly be Lincoln… could it?
“I was just out for a smoke,” the young girl said.
“In that little hussy’s top!” Phaedra exploded. “Don’t play games with me. You were Bosworth, weren’t you?”
My heart dropped into my stomach.
“I might have been,” came Jet’s casual reply.
For second, I thought I would faint. Were all my fears true? Was he sleeping with everyone in this house?
Inaudible whispering came from behind the wall and I pushed my ear up closer. There was the sound of someone stomping around, the noise of a book being torn from the bookshelf and hurled in the trash.
“I’m sure I dumped this,” Phaedra mumbled to herself.
A moment later, there was the creak of the sofa and the sound of someone sighing deeply.
“Jet… I’m not a mind reader. I don’t know if you were with that doctor and Lord forbid I don’t know why he’d be interested in a girl like you. That new girl, Etta on the other hand. She’s more his type.”
I couldn’t stop the swell of pride in my chest despite how scared and angry I was. I could hear Etta scoff at hearing that, hear the steps of her heavy boots as she strode over to the window.
“But I can tell you one thing,” Phaedra continued. “That doctor, the evil genius son of a bitch. He knows about us. He has to.”
Silence.
For an excruciating second I held my breath and waited for the rest. Knows what? I thought. Knows what!
“What does he know?” Jet asked, her voice now frail and weak.
“He knows…” was all Phaedra said and a moment later, the lounge door clicked open.
Chapter Seven
Lincoln
Back outside the house, I wondered if I was going mad. No matter how many times I tried to go home, to get back to the hospital, to live any semblance of a normal life I was always drawn back there as though it had a magnetic pull on my conscience. It could have been that old witch in there that kept me coming back, the ancient shrew that was doing abominable things I couldn’t understand. Or it could have been that angelic beauty who resided in there like an island of purity, somehow unaffected by the squalor and deviancy around her. How long would she remain pure inside there?
I looked over and saw the light was on in the lounge. There were the silhouetted figures of two people as they gesticulated wildly, throwing their arms up as they argued. There was no denying who they were, I’d recognize Jet’s slender frame anywhere, bunched up at the top by her freakishly large breasts which I presumed to be at least half comprised of rolled up socks.
I held the Ziploc bag in my hand and looked at the dirty panties. They repulsed me, made me feel like one of those cheap guys from a sordid movie who slink in and out of massage parlors in beige trench coats. The girl probably thought I needed to them to bring myself off, probably thought I was a pervert like her and Phaedra but she could never understand what I really needed them for.
I smiled to myself before folding the bag neatly and placing it inside my jacket pocket. Then I reached for my phone with an urgent need to hear Etta’s voice. Just looking at her name, with all its innocence, made me feel guilty. I should never have put her in that house and tonight, I was going to get her the hell out of there.
Chapter Eight
Etta
I dived behind the refrigerator as Jet and Phaedra entered the hall. They were whispering again, arguing almost silently in a series of muted insults. This place is nuts, I thought. I need outta here. It was then, as I pressed my back up against the cool, refrigerator door, that my phone rang. I answered it instantly and hurried for the back door.
“Linx?”
“Etta, fuck. I’ve missed you.”
“I thought you were supposed to be at work,” I said.
“I was supposed to be but I took the night off.”
There was a nervous quiver to his voice. What did he take the night off for? To meet Jet? Or to meet me?
“I’m parked outside,” he said. “Come out.”
I looked up at the clock.
“I’m not supposed to break curfew,” I replied.
“People aren’t supposed to do a lot of things,” he laughed. “Anyway, you’re an adult, right? And it’s not as if you’re sneaking off to smoke pot in the park.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Doctor, you are a bad influence on me.”
He sniggered and opened the car door. I could hear him step out into the night with his Italian leather loafers crunching along the broken sidewalk.
“So are you coming out?” he asked.
Unable to shake the feeling he was with Jet, who was now running up the stairs like a petulant child as Phaedra shouted after her, my heart sank.
“I’m sorry, I can’t meet you.”
There were tears in my eyes. I was being heartbroken for the second time this week.
“Wh-what?” he stuttered, stunned. “Why not?”
“I just can’t,” I said and hung up.
~
Upstairs in my room, I listened to the silence of the house that was finally settling down. On the top floor, Phaedra’s boots were tapping across the floorboards. She reminded me of an old matron from some long gone era. I half imagined her waking up one morning to be confronted with gruel for breakfast as she rapped me across my knuckles with a cane. There was something about her though, something about this house. There always felt like a sinister presence was lurking in the shadows, penetrating the walls with its damp and dirty darkness. I rolled over in my bed and ran my fingers over the peeling wallpaper. I needed out of there. It was a craphole and I had my suspicions there was something terrible going on, something dangerous that sucked in all the girls.
What were they talking about down there and what did Lincoln know? And what the fuck was with the diamond ring?
Lincoln… I’d soaked my pillow with tears at the thought of him with Jet. What were they doing? I’d been so naïve and stupid to think there was something genuine between us. He was probably like most other men, an animal who liked to assert his power over weak females. He probably thought I was an easy target the moment he saw me in the wreckage of my car, but he probably thought Jet was an easier one.
I rolled back over and realized sleep would not come to me. Dabbing at my eyes with the corner of the duvet, I sniffed and felt new tears emerge. Stupid, I thought. I’m so stupid. I pulled the pillow over my head in a futile attempt to drown out the thoughts and misery that was flooding my mind but it was impossible. The sadness wouldn’t stop, nor would the overwhelming feeling that I was all alone in the dangerous cesspit that was the world.
The tears fell heavier and I clenched my eyes shut. Behind me, something battered off the window but I paid it little attention. It came again, like a bird’s beak pecking the glass.
“Urgh!”
I pulled the pillow tighter around me but the sound only came again.
“Can’t I just have one normal night in this house?”
Furious, I jumped up and walked over to the window in the hope of frightening away the pigeon I imagined sitting out in the ledge with the sole purpose of annoying me. Grabbing a nearby magazine, I rolled it up into a weapon and ri
pped the curtain back.
“Go away!”
But there was no bird.
Lincoln was standing in the driveway with a handful of stones. He moved to throw another one before he saw me.
Opening the window, I leaned out and felt the ledge crumble beneath my hands.
“What do you want?” I asked.
For a second he looked up, hurt and stunned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, letting the stones drop to the ground. “I thought we had a great day.”
He looked back up, his face scrunching up beneath the moonlight. Exasperated, he took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. He looked unbearably handsome, his strong face looking even more regal in the darkness. Sensing I was staring at him, he looked up.
“Look, are you going to come out and speak to me or are you just going to hang out the window like an old washer woman?”
“Oh, that’s real charming of you. Washer woman?” I shook my head. “Really?”
“That came out wrong. I’m sorry it’s just that… Come outside. Please?”
I folded my arms.
“No.”
Again, that hurt look came over his face. He kicked at the ground and walked up to the front door.
"Etta? What's wrong? What have I done?"
There was such a genuine look of confusion in his eyes that for a second I thought I'd mixed everything up. But I knew I hadn't. I heard what Phaedra and Jet were talking about. I could smell his aftershave on her.
"You were with her," I said. "I know you were."
The look of confusion didn't fade. Either he genuinely had no idea what I was talking about or he'd gone insane and developed temporary amnesia.
"With who?" he asked, shivering in the chilled night.
"That skinny blonde thing," I spat. "Jet."
Shocked, he opened his mouth to speak but said nothing.
"This is why you're angry?" he eventually said, his hands clutched to the sides of his head. "That girl. What did you say her name was, Jet? Like Joan Jett? Anyway, I gave her a ride home because I saw her lurking around the docks. Believe me, I'm not a fan of that salty little grump either but she was alone and as I was on my way here anyway..."
Jewels and Panties (Book, Two): Jewels in the Night Page 4
