by Girard, Dara
She caught the other woman’s eye and the woman pretended to tie her shoe while Monica studied a flower.
“How long have you been here?” she asked her.
“Six months, but I’m luckier than some. I’m a side project.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m just here for his pleasure. He’s involved in the sex trade and sells women like produce. He keeps the ones he wants for his private entertainment. The ones he really wants to control he keeps sedated. Some get addicted, I’m told. He just got rid of a huge shipment, which is why there are only sixteen of us.”
So that explained some of the women and others who couldn’t seem to keep still and seemed jittery and anxious. Fortunately, she had avoided that fate. “We have to find a way out.”
“There isn’t one. No one has ever escaped. One woman tried to escape and broke her nose and several bones in her face when she fell into one of the many traps found on the estate. They found her, and a week later she disappeared. Another girl took a knife to her face and other parts of her body, hoping that if she disfigured herself he wouldn’t want her and would let her go. He took her somewhere, and she came back so terrified she hasn’t said a word since and is forced to take care of us.”
“You mean Lola?” Monica asked, astonished, referring to the quiet woman who dressed her.
“Yes. It’s hopeless. No one knows we’re here because he chooses women either estranged from their families or alone. Oh, no. A guard is getting suspicious.” The woman stood and walked away.
Monica gripped her fist. Death was worth the risk. It was a better choice than being a prisoner. She tried to connect with the others, but her talk of escape frightened them and soon everyone avoided her. So most days she wandered the compound alone and becoming more discouraged. All of that changed the night Felicia Hightower was brought to the compound.
Monica was walking past Anton’s “market room,” where he entertained mostly men and showed off his collection. She hadn’t been shown off yet but had overheard from others what the experience was like. He also received new women there. Today was one of those days.
Felicia was a petite woman, about five feet, a breathtaking beauty with a short-cropped afro and a figure most women would starve for and most men would lust after. Her smooth ebony skin, turned-up nose and rosebud lips were made complete by a pair of large almond-shaped eyes, expertly outlined with a blue liner. Monica found herself unable to stop staring at the young woman sitting stubbornly erect on a wicker stool as one of the guardians attached her, by a leg chain, to a nearby post.
Her face was tear-stained but did not hide a sense of determination. From what Monica could see there seemed to be a small bruise on the side of her face. This fact was confirmed when she overheard Anton berating one of the guardians.
“I gave strict orders. My merchandise is always to be delivered untouched.”
“She tried to escape and I had to…”
“You had to what?”
The guardian fell silent.
“Get rid of her. I don’t want damaged goods. You will not receive payment until she is replaced.”
“Yes, sir.”
Monica ducked out of sight when the guardian led the new arrival to the holding room. Monica’s heart skipped a beat. Get rid of her? Monica knew she could not sit by and do nothing. Felicia would be her means of escape.
That night she called on the strength of her ancestor who Monica felt inhabited her.
Her great-great-grandmother had been abducted from her tribe at an early age. She did not remember being taken, but as she grew, she knew she was not like the others. While the members of her tribe had dark-tanned skin, with thick coarse hair and broad features, she was light-skinned, with fine black hair. Her fine features made her a focus of envy and lust, and to prevent her from being stolen, she was forced to stay hidden from sight. Like Monica, she was not allowed to do what other children did.
While she watched the other girls work all day getting water, helping clean the hides and gathering wood for the fire, she was taught how to make baskets, pottery and jewelry. As she grew, her great-great-grandmother developed her skills and became known for her expertly crafted jewelry, which was eventually displayed in prominent museums, including the renowned Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of the American Indian. And while creating jewelry, she had learned about compounds and poisons. This knowledge became useful when an enemy tribe threatened to take their land and steal all the women and children.
With the agreement of the chief, her great-great-grandmother helped come up with a compound that they put into the enemy tribe’s drinking water. And while the men slept, they were slaughtered. The women and children, as was the case during warfare, were then taken captive by her tribe.
The carnage had frightened her great-great-grandmother, and she’d stayed away from poisons after that. But everything changed when her eldest daughter needed to escape her abusive husband. She created a compound that left him sexually ineffective, and he left her in shame. She then taught her daughters the power of specific plants, just in case they needed them. “Respect the land, for she protects you,” she liked to say. “And she’ll save you like no man can.” As Monica thought, an idea grew in her mind.
“You’re a brave woman,” she said to Lola the next day.
“And I need you to do a brave thing for me.” She slipped her a list. “Get these items. I don’t care how, but I need them by tonight.”
Lola took the list and nodded. After dinner Monica returned to her room and found the items tucked under her pillow. She had one part of her plan down; now, on to the next. That night she crept into the holding room and whispered to Felicia, “I need you to trust me.” She slipped the packet under the door. “In two minutes I want you to scream then swallow the contents of this packet and stuff the empty packet in your bra.”
“But—”
“There’s no time to explain. I want to save your life.” And mine.
“Okay,” Felicia said with the determination Monica had first seen in her.
Monica hid behind a large broad-leaved plant and waited. Felicia did as told, and the alarm sounded and two guardians rushed into the room.
One swore. “She’s dead.”
“What do you mean?”
“Check her pulse. She doesn’t have one.”
“Stevens can’t know about this.”
“He was going to get rid of her anyway.”
“Damn, I’d wanted to have a crack at her.”
“I’ll go get the van. Dump her in the box,” he said, referring to the large rectangular box they used to get rid of girls who died from overdoses or other reasons. “We might as well clean this mess up tonight.”
One guard left and she heard the other lifting Felicia into the box. Then she saw Lola come and wave to the guard to get his attention and hand him a note. “What now?”
She nodded.
He glanced at the box, clearly conflicted, then said, “All right, show me what you need, but make it quick.” He followed Lola. Monica snuck inside the room and climbed in the box with Felicia, who wasn’t dead but was in a catatonic state from the compound she’d given her. She’d come out of it in a few hours.
Monica heard the footsteps of the guardians return and felt herself being lifted.
“Damn, she’s heavy,” one grunted.
“Dead weight always is. Now shut up and go.”
Minutes later Monica felt the box being lifted onto a truck, and soon she was out of the compound and on the road to freedom.
“Monica?”
JD’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned to see his worried face. She was free. This was a man who didn’t want to possess her. This was a man who didn’t need to own her. With him she was still her own woman. She remembered him selecting the perfect rocking chair for his grandmother. His attention to detail and concern that it not tilt back too far. She knew he was a man she could love. A man she already lov
ed. Not that he needed to know that. With him she was safe. Her secret was safe, and soon she would go back to the farmhouse and the new life she’d created for herself. She took JD’s hand and smiled. “I’m all right. I was just enjoying this perfect day.”
They returned to the house in the early evening, just as the sun lengthened the shadows.
“I know just the place where I’m going to put this,” JD said as he untied the rocking chair from the top of the car. “I’m going to put it near the fireplace where Gran can keep warm and work on her crocheting.”
Monica looked at him, surprised. “She crochets?”
“No, but she’s always wanted to learn.” And he’d help her before it was too late, JD thought with sudden determination. Maybe the doctors were wrong. Maybe if he stayed longer and made the place comfortable she could get better. Life in town wasn’t good for her. She belonged at the farmhouse. She needed to be near the trees and land she loved. He turned to look at Monica take out the knotted rug from the car, and he remembered how she’d selected just the one she thought would be perfect for Gran. She’d grown to love her as much as he did. He could feel the bond between them. He looked at the house and welcomed its presence. He would fill it with all that his grandmother wanted, and maybe he could be happy. Tonight, anything seemed possible.
Monica held the front door open for him, and Baxter greeted them at the door with a little yelp.
“Nice to see you, too,” JD said as he headed to the family room. Baxter followed him and yelped again.
“I think something’s wrong,” Monica said. “It’s not like Baxter to bark.”
JD set the rocking chair down. “He’s just excited to see us,” he said, wanting to dismiss the eerie silence and Baxter’s strange behavior. “Gran, we’re back,” he called out. “And I think you’re going to like what we got you.”
He walked into the family room and found Nadine lying facedown on the couch. JD rushed over to her and knelt by her side, turning her face to him. “Gran?” He touched her forehead. Her skin felt pasty and damp. He took her hand and warmed it between his. “Gran, honey?”
Her eyes fluttered open. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said in a weak voice.
Monica rushed over to the phone. “I’m calling the ambulance.”
“Won’t do any good,” Nadine wheezed.
“Don’t say things like that,” JD said. “You’re going to be fine.” He stood. “Let me—”
“No, just stay with me.”
JD fell to his knees, feeling helpless while Monica dialed. “Gran, let me get you some juice and a blanket. I can carry you to your room.”
Nadine shook her head. “Did you get the items?”
“Does it matter?” he snapped.
“Yes, we got them,” Monica said in a softer tone then returned to her conversation with the emergency operator.
“Good,” Nadine said. “I’m so glad I got to see you again.”
JD shook his head, trying his best not to lose his temper. He wouldn’t let the evening end like this. He’d get her to the hospital and she’d be fine. “Don’t talk. Just save your strength.”
“Promise me one thing.”
“Gran, I told you—”
“Be happy, JD. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for you.”
It was his father all over again. It was a cruel irony that, just like in the past, he couldn’t promise her that one thing. But unlike the boy he’d been when his father had died, he was able to control his feelings and push down his anger and sadness and kiss the back of her hand. When he spoke, his voice was calm. “Just rest, Gran. I promise I’ll never leave your side.”
Chapter 10
Nadine passed away a week later. There were moments when the doctors thought she would rally, but she slipped quietly into a coma from which she never recovered, and then one day her heart stopped. Her physician admitted to JD that she was sicker than she let anyone know.
At the repast, which was held in the farmhouse she loved, Monica kept herself busy in the kitchen, making sure the catering was on schedule. Being in the kitchen allowed her to feel useful. Even though she’d loved Nadine, she felt like an outsider among her family and friends. Also, she didn’t want to think about what Nadine’s death meant for her future. She’d have to find a new place to live. Whoever inherited the farmhouse, even if it was JD, might want to move in right away or sell it. She couldn’t buy it. Not right now. The paper trail was too dangerous.
It was probably better this way. She was getting too attached to the place and JD. It was time to move on.
JD peeked his head in. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“I just—”
“You’re a guest, not the waitstaff,” JD said, taking Monica’s hand. “Come on.” He pulled her into the other room then handed her a glass. “Relax, Monica.”
A man suddenly turned around and grinned. He was a tad shorter and lighter-skinned than JD, but he had his smile and a wicked gleam in his eye. “Did I hear you say Monica, big brother? At last I get to meet the sexy artist you’ve been telling me about.”
JD made the introductions. “This is my brother, Donnie. Donnie, this is Monica.”
Donnie couldn’t hide his surprise as he stared at Monica then he burst into laughter. “This is a joke, right? Good one, bro.” He playfully punched JD in the arm. “You almost got me. Really. Where is she?”
JD lowered his voice, his eyes blazing. “She’s right in front of you.”
Donnie’s smile fell and his face turned crimson. “You’re serious?”
JD’s eyes darkened as he folded his arms.
His younger brother swore. “I didn’t mean to—”
Monica waved his embarrassment aside, even though she felt mortified herself. “It’s okay.” She took a step back. “I have to tell the caterer something. Excuse me.” She slipped out of JD’s grasp when he reached for her and weaved her way through the crowd, desperate to escape to her room. She didn’t make it. A stunning woman blocked her path. She was impeccably dressed in a black silk designer pantsuit and a pair of three-inch Italian leather pumps, and she was wearing a magnificent mother-of-pearl necklace with matching earrings. Although Monica was several inches taller, the other woman carried herself as if they were of equal height.
She had smooth dark skin and piercing eyes, which were outlined with a deep purple kohl pencil. Her other features were softer. Monica could not help noticing how striking this woman looked. There was something about her that kept Monica entranced. Crystalline had that affect on people.
“I’d like a word with you,” JD’s mother said. Her hair was swept up in a chignon, giving her the look of a living sculpture. Monica had seen her at the funeral service but hadn’t spoken to her. Now she followed her over to a corner.
“My son tells me you make jewelry.”
“Yes, but I’m nowhere in your league. You’re a true artisan and I have always—”
Crystalline held up her hand. “Save the flattery, please. That’s not why I want to talk to you. My son has taken a keen interest in you.”
“I like him, too.”
“Most women do, for one reason or another.”
Monica stiffened. “My reasons are pure.”
Crystalline paused. “I’ve met a lot of people, but only once have I ever met near perfection. Unlike others, I notice things like the shape of one’s forehead to the ratio of one’s neck or shoulders. Few people have the perfect elongated neck that makes jewelry shine. I saw that once when I met Venus. You may have heard about her, or seen her picture. Over the past ten years she was featured in every major magazine.” She looked straight into Monica’s face as if she could see past the shield of her sunglasses. “I saw it again. Today, when I saw you. Your attempt at dressing down didn’t fool me. I’d know your profile if you were covered in feathers.”
“I—”
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I won’t allow anyone to toy with my son.”
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. I’ll be gone after tonight.”
Crystalline looked as if she wanted to take her up on the offer, but she suddenly shook her head. “He won’t let you.”
“I’m my own woman.”
She rested a hand on her hip and considered Monica. “Then why are you hiding?”
“It’s complicated, but please—”
“I won’t say a word. I’m an expert when it comes to secrets. No one will hear anything from me.” She looked up and saw JD. “As long as you don’t give me a reason to.”
“I won’t,” Monica promised then left and went into the extra room where Nadine had stayed. She pulled off the quilt that covered the bed and wrapped herself in it then sat on the floor, feeling as if she was in her own cocoon. She closed her eyes, just wanting everything to stop. She wanted Nadine to be alive again, to have never met JD’s mother, to have never met JD. Everything would have been different if he hadn’t entered her life.
Look after him for me. Monica heard Nadine’s words echoing in her mind. But who would look out for her? She thought of the loss of her husband and her old life and then the loss of the new life she’d created. She hung her head and cried. She wept until her chest ached and her throat was sore then lay on the ground and covered herself with the quilt, blocking out the world.
Monica woke up hours later, shocked when she saw the clock. It said 9 a.m. She’d slept nearly twelve hours. She hadn’t realized she was so exhausted. She replaced the quilt then returned to her room. She changed out of the clothes she had slept in and jumped in the shower. She didn’t stay long. She knew JD was leaving that morning. He hadn’t said a word, but he didn’t need to. His vacation had come to an end. She went downstairs and noticed his suitcase by the door.
“Are you all ready to go?” Monica said when JD entered the kitchen a few minutes later. She took care to keep her voice neutral.
