BABY FOR A PRICE

by Kathryn Thomas

  “You, come with me,” he said, and tugged at her arm, pulling her roughly through the crowds until he found the back door of the gallery. He knew where it led. It led to a quiet alleyway behind the gallery, where Evangeline used to drag him for a quick fuck when they were dating. He was taking her there for a completely different reason now.

  “What are you doing? Let me go!” Evangeline squealed, but Devin pushed open the doors and pulled her outside with him, slamming the doors behind him.

  “What am I doing? What did you do?!” Devin thundered, and Evangeline was wailing again.

  “How dare you blame me for this?” She was crying but screaming as well, and Devin clenched his fists and took a few steps away from her.

  “This is exactly the reason why it’s been over between us, Evangeline. Because of shit like this that you pull.” Devin spoke through gritted teeth, and she looked up at him with her scrunched up face. Her tears were spreading down her cheeks, but her makeup remained perfect and un-smudged.

  “How dare you say that? I’ve done nothing against you. Anything I’ve done in the past is for your love,” she wailed, and her whole body shuddered. Devin stayed away from her; he wasn’t going to fall her tricks again.

  “Tell me what you did. How you arranged for all this?” he demanded, but Evangeline kept wailing.

  “Why would you think I did any of this? Why would I jeopardize that poor girl’s career?”

  Devin gritted his teeth again. “To get back at me for dumping you. Shayna was right, you’re a jealous ex-girlfriend, and I should never have allowed Camille to be associated with you. This is all my mistake.” He was growling, pacing the street, and slapping the brick alley walls with his hands.

  Devin could feel his rage rising up his spine. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this angry. Perhaps it was with Evangeline.

  “I don’t have anything to be jealous about,” Evangeline said, suddenly straightening her back from her crouched position. I have everything I need. I have a man who can actually take care of me, and who has more money than you’ll ever have. And who treats me like a queen.” She wiped the tears off her face.

  Devin rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Why did you turn up at my house then, begging me to take you back?” he asked, taking a few steps towards her.

  “Because I wanted to tease you,” Evangeline replied, rolling her eyes too. The tears had vanished, and her expression had changed. She wasn’t in a wailing mood anymore. Instead, she ran her fingers through her long, shiny dark hair and started feeling her lips to make sure that her makeup was still intact.

  Devin scoffed and shook his head. “I wish you’d just give up the act, Evangeline.” Devin looked at her as she slipped a compact mirror out of her purse. She flipped it open and looked at her own reflection, pouted her lips, and got busy with making sure that when she went back in, nobody would find her face amiss.

  “You’re right, Devin, it is all an act. And I’m incredibly good at it,” Evangeline said after a few seconds of silence. She snapped the mirror shut, slipped it back into her bag, and smiled at him, a broad, satisfied grin.

  Devin’s face twisted into more hatred. He knew Evangeline was manipulative, but he hadn’t thought that she could stoop this low. She had never admitted to all this before, but he wasn’t surprised by this.

  “Just stay the fuck away from me, and don’t even think of going anywhere near Camille,” Devin said and just as he took a step towards the door, he felt a sharp thud on the back of his head.

  The impact made him plunge forward, and his knees buckled, propelling him forward to the ground.

  Devin felt a little dizzy, but he still hadn’t lost complete consciousness. But now he could sense a male shadow above him, and the world looked skewed. He fought to keep his eyes open, while he sensed someone tugging at his limp arms. He tried to keep his eyes open, but Devin could feel them growing heavy. There was an ache in the back of his head where he had been hit.

  He kept wondering how he could have been this stupid. How he could have been this unaware of his surroundings. But there was no physical strength left in him anymore; his injured brain had overtaken his body, and none of his limbs would move. Somebody was dragging him towards the back of a car. Where was Evangeline?

  Then he saw her, topsy-turvy, but he could see her clearly now. She had a smile on her face.

  “I’ll be seeing your precious girlfriend real soon, darling,” he heard her say, and before he had the chance to even part his lips, somebody had pulled him into the back of a van, and there was pitch black darkness all around him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Camille

  “Shayna, I think we should go to the police.” Camille turned to her best friend, who was busy signing her name on another one of their vandalized pieces of art. The show had turned out to be a major success. After Camille’s speech, urging guests to look at their art as vandalized creations, and not ones ready for the dumpster, people were inspired. They all came together in support of the artists and their work. She and Shayna were surrounded by prospective buyers who wanted to learn more about their work and were willing to buy them too.

  In the commotion, Camille had lost sight of Devin, and Evangeline was nowhere to be seen either. She had waited patiently, smiling and entertaining prospective buyers, signing the art and trying to keep a casual and confident air around her. The truth was that she was slowly beginning to lose her confidence. She had gained inspiration from Devin, from his words of encouragement and she felt like his presence had empowered her to make that speech. And now he was nowhere in sight.

  Shayna hadn’t heard Camille, so she tugged at her sleeve this time and leaned into her ear.

  “We should go to the police,” Camille said again, and this time Shayna whipped around to look at her, slightly surprised.

  “What are you talking about?” Shayna asked. She was facing Camille with a look of surprise while her fingers still did the signing. Shayna was over the top with excitement; this had been a big night for them.

  “We need to go report the vandalism,” Camille said, and Shayna’s confusion grew.

  “To the police? I’m sure the gallery will do it for us, won’t they? Shouldn’t Evangeline file the report?” Shayna waved her hand at someone else who had approached them for an autograph.

  “Do you see Evangeline anywhere? She might have gone home already? Or maybe she doesn’t care,” Camille said, sitting back in the chair that she had been sitting on for the past hour and signing the art. It could have been more than an hour, Camille wasn’t certain anymore. All she knew was that it had been an incredibly long time since she last saw Devin.

  “You were the one who said to leave Evangeline out of this. I warned you she was trouble. I told you that she was behind all this,” Shayna accused her, and Camille shook her head.

  “I know you did, but I didn’t want you to make a scene. Of course I don’t trust her.”

  “And where’s Devin? Shouldn’t he be here to support you?” Shayna asked, still in a sour mood.

  “I don’t know where he is,” Camille said, her voice was shaky, she was losing her confidence, and a sudden fright had filled her bones. She didn’t want to think too seriously about it, but she was aware that Devin was involved in something not quite right. There were men on bikes following him. She didn’t want to think about the worst.

  “So Evangeline and Devin are both missing, together, at the same time. When they both should be here with you.” Shayna stood up from her chair, and Camille felt her lips quivering. She didn’t want to have to think about the fact that they were both missing at the same time. She tried to remind herself that there had to be a perfect explanation for all this. But it had been over an hour, and neither of them had been seen anywhere.

  “Camille, you look like you’re going to be sick.” Shayna looked down at her friend.

  Camille looked up, and she felt another gush of tears overpowering her, she bit down on he
r lip to make it stop. “I’m fine, I just need some fresh air I think,” Camille said, and she felt Shayna’s hand on her arms. Shayna was pulling her up gently.

  “You’ve had a shock, you’ll be fine,” Shayna assured her as she tried to steer Camille away from the crowd.

  “That’s all for the night folks. You can direct all your queries and questions to Ms. Charlene Cummings. She is Evangeline’s assistant and will be happy to help,” Shayna then spoke to the crowd that was still gathered around them.

  Camille noticed Charlene, who she had met earlier briefly and spoken to several times over the phone before the exhibition. She swooped in and started talking to the interested buyers.

  “We’ll just let her handle it, for now, she can give us an update later. I trust her more than I trust that bitch Evangeline,” Shayna said, still walking with her arm around Camille’s shoulder.

  Camille felt unsteady on her feet. Where the hell was Devin? How could he have just left her here and disappeared? That was so uncharacteristic of him. Although did she really know him at all? Did she know anything about him other than what he chose to show her? Maybe he got bored here; maybe he had other things to do. And where was Evangeline? Were they together?

  “Hey, do you want to go to the police station?” Shayna interrupted her thoughts as they walked towards the front door of the gallery. Camille licked her lips and shut her eyes, then nodded in response.

  “Yeah, let’s go and report the vandalism at least.”

  They pushed through the doors and walked out into the cool but humid Miami night. There were still some cameras and paparazzi parked around the entrance, and a few flashing lights blinded them as they walked down the luxurious red carpet.

  She noticed Devin’s car still parked on the other side of the road, where he had left it when they arrived earlier.

  “His car is still here, Shayna. Where is he?” Her voice was breaking as she spoke. Camille could feel the panic rising in her veins.

  “Let’s just go and talk to the police Camille,” Shayna said, and they walked in the opposite direction from Devin’s car.

  ***

  They had been sitting on metal benches for over half an hour, waiting for somebody to attend to them. It was getting quite late now, and both of them were tired, exhausted from all the drama of that night and also aware that they now had no ride home.

  Shayna’s phone rang in her purse, and she answered the call. Camille sat by her in silence; she had no energy to talk anymore. She was worried, excited about the outcome of the exhibition, and saddened that all her art was ruined - it was a heady mix of emotions that she had no control over. But the worst of it all was that she couldn’t get that nagging feeling out of her bones that she didn’t know where Devin was. That he had left her there, stranded without support. And that he might have left with Evangeline.

  “That was Charlene.” Shayna had hung up the phone and had an encouraging smile on her face. Camille turned her tired eyes to her friend and tried to smile too, but she couldn’t.

  “She said that we sold everything and made more money than they had anticipated. How exciting is that Camille?!” Shayna hugged her, and Camille clung on to her friend for support.

  “Cheer up, please! This has been a good night, hasn’t it? It all worked out in the end, just when we thought that stupid bitch ruined it for us,” Shayna said, patting Camille’s arm. Camille only managed a weak smile and didn’t reply. Shayna was right, it had definitely been a good night career-wise, but she was too exhausted and too worried to think straight anymore.

  “I bet it was she who orchestrated it all. Evangeline. She did this to get back to you for stealing her ex-boyfriend,” Shayna said, and Camille couldn’t control it anymore.

  “What boyfriend? What did I steal? He isn’t even here anymore. Where is he? He just left me there!” Camille couldn’t help herself. The words came tumbling out of her before she could stop them.

  Shayna grabbed her by the shoulders again. “Get it together, Camille. I’m sure there’s a perfect explanation for all this. He probably had something urgent to do, some sort of emergency,” Shayna was clearly trying her hardest to change Camille’s mood.

  “He didn’t tell me anything about an emergency. He just disappeared. How could he do that? I shouldn’t have ever trusted him either.” Camille could feel the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes now. It had been too long; the night’s events had been too dramatic for her to hold back the tears any longer.

  “Look, Camille. Just give it some time. Maybe he’ll turn up. It’s only been a couple of hours. He probably had to be somewhere, and we were too busy. Have you tried calling him?” Shayna asked, and Camille nodded her head, wiping her cheeks at the same time.

  “His phone is switched off,” she replied, remembering the three times she called him and left voice messages too.

  “There you go, he probably had somewhere to be, and he’ll be back. You know how secretive he is about his work. He probably just didn’t want you to worry,” Shayna said, rubbing the back of Camille’s neck.

  Camille looked at her friend and realized how lucky she was to have her. She smiled at Shayna, and just then a male voice interrupted them.

  “You ladies waiting to file a report?”

  They looked up to find a burly police clerk holding a sheet of paper in his hands. He looked as exhausted as Camille felt. He too was having a long night, or perhaps he was just bored.

  “Yes, sir. Our artwork was vandalized at Evangeline Fox’s gallery. The lights were out, so none of the cameras caught anything and-” Shayna had spoken fast, and Camille was glad that there was finally someone to speak to them after waiting for close to an hour.

  The policeman interrupted Shayna by raising his right palm and cutting her off. “I don’t need to hear all the details. You have to file a report, so put it all in that,” he said, holding out the sheet of paper. Shayna glared at him and then grabbed it from his hands.

  “Can’t you record me or something? Do we really have to sit down and write all this down now?” She asked, shaking her head in outrage. The expression on the man’s face didn’t change. She didn’t affect him at all.

  “You’ll need to write it out if you want us to have a record of it, ma’am.” He had a bored, drawling voice. He was about to turn and walk away when Camille remembered Devin’s parked car outside the gallery.

  “I also have a missing person to report,” she added suddenly, standing up with a jerk. The policeman turned to her with a confused look on his face.

  “A missing person? Who is it?”

  Camille changed nervous looks with Shayna, who didn’t look like she was in support of what Camille was saying. But that parked car had left her with a bad feeling; she had to tell the authorities.

  “He’s my friend, his name is Devin. He was at the exhibition too, and he’s disappeared, his phone is off.” Camille’s words came hurling out of her, and her hands were shaking.

  The policeman’s big belly shook as he laughed.

  “Devin? Well, ma’am, your friend hasn’t disappeared. He’s probably just made a smooth getaway with a different woman for the night and hasn’t told you about it,” he said and didn’t wait for a response from her. He turned away from them, shaking his head, and continued laughing as he walked back toward an office.

  Camille felt like her whole world had come crashing down. The policeman’s laughter was still ringing in her ears as she slowly sat back down on the cold metal bench. Is that what had happened? Had Devin left the gallery with Evangeline?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Devin

  Devin blinked his eyes open. He had lost all track of time, and he could still feel that same dull ache at the back of his head. It was dark around him when he strained his eyes to open, and there was a sound of dropping water from a leaking pipe overhead.

  The first sensation that hit him was a ferrying stench like he was surrounded by rotten meat or human flesh. Devin felt a shu
dder run down his spine as he blinked his eyes several times more, trying to adjust his eyesight to the dim light. It wasn’t pitch black; there were some rays of light coming in through the cracks in the ceiling overhead.

  He was alone. He was thankful for that. But he couldn’t be sure for how long. The sound of the dripping water was annoying, and he shook his head vigorously, but it only made the ache in his head worse.

  He realized that his hands were tied behind his back and he was sitting on a small low chair in the center of some sort of storage room.

  He had only one choice, even if it meant he might be inviting trouble.

  “Come down here, fuckers!” he yelled at the top of his voice, and it made his throat hurt. He yelled it again, and he heard his own voice echo and bounce off the dilapidated walls.

  There was the sound of a door being unlocked and then footsteps down some stairs.