Tenderloin

by LD Marr

  “Steve. That’s my man!” said Pierre.

  Steve smiled and uncrossed his arms.

  “OK. I’m ready for this,” he said.

  “Good. I’ll demonstrate first,” said Pierre.

  He picked up one of the eight needles on the table and held it up toward me.

  “First, you need to remove the protective cap over the needle,” he explained.

  Pierre tugged the plastic cap off the end of the needle and placed it on the table.

  “You might need to do this with one hand, so we’ll teach you to do that,” said Pierre.

  He handed me one of the needles to practice on. I pulled off its cap and waited for more directions.

  “Hold the needle between your first two fingers like this,” Pierre said. “And place your thumb over the plunger.”

  He demonstrated. It was kind of awkward, but I copied him.

  “Then jab the needle in hard,” said Pierre. “And quickly push the plunger in.”

  To demonstrate, he shoved the needle into Steve’s shoulder.

  “Ouch!” Steve said.

  He rubbed the back of his shoulder with an offended look on his face.

  “Now you try it,” Pierre directed me.

  “Are you still OK with this Steve?” I asked him.

  He looked at me unsmiling but held out his arm.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  I felt nervous, but I stuck the needle into the offered arm and then pushed in the plunger. Steve winced. But he didn’t say anything this time.

  “That’s not hard enough,” said Pierre. “You might not make it through your target’s jacket to the flesh. You must be successful on the first try, or I’m sure you can imagine what will happen.”

  I knew exactly what he meant, and I didn’t need him to describe it.

  “Try again. Harder this time. Sneak up on him from behind,” said Pierre.

  “OK,” I said.

  Pierre stepped back, and I walked behind Steve. He sat stiff. I could feel him tense with anticipation, but I hovered there for a few moments.

  The odd mental fog that so often clouded my mind lately grew stronger, and I didn’t resist it. It seemed to want to control my actions, so I let it. I lunged, slammed the needle into Steve’s back as hard as I could, and pushed the plunger in.

  “Ouch!” said Steve again.

  “Perfect!” said Pierre.

  “Great,” said Steve. “Can we stop now?”

  “No, not yet,” said Pierre. “We still have six more practice needles. You want Myrna to be an expert at this, don’t you? You understand the danger she’ll be in if she’s not, right?”

  “Right, right,” said Steve. “OK. Myrna. Keep going. I can take it.”

  At that moment, I was impressed by Steve. My estimation of him rose. I’d always thought he had his good points, but he also had many flaws, as I knew well. A complicated man. He’d given me food and shelter without demanding much in return.

  I fumbled for words to express my gratitude.

  “Steve. I appreciate this so much,” I told him. “I never knew you had this heroic side.”

  He smiled up at me, and his huge eyes seemed moist.

  “Sure Myrna. It’s nothing,” he said. “Keep going.”

  “You don’t have to sneak up on him again,” said Pierre. “Just inject the rest of them—hard.”

  I still felt guilty about poking Steve, but I knew I had to do it. So one after the other, I injected the rest of the needles into his back, arms, chest, and thigh. I think we were both relieved when I was finished.

  “Hey, Pierre,” said Steve. “Are you sure this was saltwater and not heroin Myrna just put in me? I’m feeling kind of light headed.”

  “Of course, I’m sure,” said Pierre. “The bags are marked with what’s in them, see.”

  He held up the empty bag and the full one with eight needles. Asian symbols were printed on labels attached to the bags.

  “I can’t read that. It’s Japanese!” said Steve.

  “Don’t worry. I can read it. Anyway, if you’d been injected with that much heroin, you’d be dead now,” said Pierre.

  “Oh. That’s comforting,” said Steve.

  He turned to me. “I’m ready to get out of here. How about you, Myrna?”

  “Yes. I’m ready. Thank you Steve,” I said again. “And you too, Pierre. Thanks for your help.”

  I put the bra and the bag of needles away in an inside pocket of my coat. Steve stood up and started putting his coat back on too.

  “So, how much do I owe you for this, Pierre?” Steve asked him.

  Pierre stared at both of us with his intense brown eyes. Still in my foggy mental state, I felt darkness behind his eyes. A deep, endless darkness planted there by past murders and other horrendous acts. Yet I wasn’t afraid of Pierre. His intent toward me wasn’t to harm.

  Instead, I felt him sending a need to me through his gaze. The need to somehow lighten or at least clean some of the darkness that lived inside him. His desire to help me, so that might happen.

  “There’s no charge for Myrna,” said Pierre.

  “Wow! That’s so generous! Thank you Pierre,” said Steve.

  “But there will be a charge for you, Steve,” Pierre continued.

  “Huh?” said Steve. “How much?”

  He pulled out his wallet from an inside jacket pocket.

  “No. Not money Steve,” said Pierre. “I’m doing you a favor, so you will owe me a favor. An even exchange.”

  Steve stiffened up. I could tell he wasn’t happy about accruing this debt, but he put his wallet back without any argument. I had the impression that Pierre wasn’t a person you’d argue with.

  “OK. Then. A favor it will be,” said Steve.

  He buttoned up his coat and nodded at Pierre without saying anything more. Pierre nodded back. Then Steve took my arm and led me through the door and out of the building.

  ⌛

  Outside, I took a deep breath of the cool early December air. It cleansed away some of the darkness of the place we’d just left. Steve hooked his arm through mine as we walked back west toward the subway.

  “Thank you again, Steve,” I said. “I couldn’t have done this without your help. I know those shots were painful. But now, at least I have a chance. If I find out what’s been happening, maybe I’ll get away to tell about it.”

  “All in a day’s work,” Steve answered. “No problem. I mean, sure, it was kind of painful—like getting eight flu shots in a row. But it was OK. Compared to what you’re about to do, it was nothing.”

  I patted his arm but didn’t say anything. It might have been the strange mental state I was in, but for whatever reason, I wasn’t the least bit worried about what would happen to me.

  Steve turned to look at me as we walked along.

  “You’ve changed a lot, Myrna,” he said. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared by the way you plan to put yourself in danger. I guess I feel both of those things.”

  “It’s true. I’m not the same person you used to know. And I feel like I’m not even the same person I was last week,” I admitted.

  “Well, I was thinking that if you’re a different person now, maybe you’ve changed the way you feel about me. Maybe you’d like to come home with me tonight?” he asked hopefully.

  I started to laugh and then stopped myself. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

  “No. I’m sorry Steve, but that part of me hasn’t changed. Except that I’m not interested in anything physical with anyone anymore. That’s changed.”

  Now Steve laughed at me.

  “Oh, really?” he said. “Not from what I saw you doing with Laz last night. Have you got a thing for that guy? He couldn’t have helped you with something like this, could he? He’s got no connections. He’s just a loser. You know that right? Or are you trying to claim that you kissed him as part of your mission or something?”

  We turned a corner on Avenue A and started walking nor
th.

  “No. That wasn’t intentional. I know what you saw, and I can’t explain why that happened,” I said. “But it was a mistake, and it’s not going to happen again. I have to focus on what I’m doing, and I can’t get into any kind of romantic relationship with anyone right now. And anyway, Laz is my client at the clinic, so please don’t put him down like that. He’s been cleaning up, you know.”

  We stopped at a corner and waited for the light to change. Then we crossed the empty intersection and walked on.

  “Whoa!” said Steve. “That’s all kind of intense. He was your client, and you were kissing him?”

  He paused and then went on.

  “It sounds to me like even though you’re talking like you’ve got it all together, you might not know what you’re doing. Maybe you don’t know yourself as well as you think you do. And that could be dangerous with what you’re getting into. So now I’m feeling even more worried about you.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know myself. Did I claim those things?” I asked.

  “Umm,” said Steve.

  “If I did, I didn’t mean to,” I said. “The only thing I know for sure is that I have to find that guy. And I feel like I shouldn’t get involved with Laz or anyone else right now.”

  “Well, I agree with you about Laz,” said Steve. “You shouldn’t get involved with him. But you can get involved with me if you change your mind. I’m not your client. And anyway, you might need my help again. You might need a place to stay. If you do, you know you can always stay with me, right? And I won’t expect anything in return.”

  “Wow, Steve,” I said. “You know, I don’t think I ever appreciated you before. You’re impressing me tonight. And that is so kind of you! But I’ve got a place now, so I’ll be fine. And I need to get home because it’s late, and I have to work tomorrow morning.”

  We reached the entrance to a subway station, and we stopped walking. Steve stared at me, and I saw the concern in his eyes.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

  I didn’t believe that myself, but I wanted to reassure him.

  “You have a place to stay now, but I have a feeling things are going to change for you,” he said. “You have no idea what you’re getting into. Call me anytime.”

  “I will,” I promised.

  I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tight. Then I let go and walked fast down into the subway.

  Chapter 17

  The next morning, Danno spoke to me when I walked into the clinic. “Sandra wants to see you in her office.”

  I turned and looked at him. Danno wore one of his many cheerful and colorful caps, but he wasn’t smiling his usual reassuring smile. I felt waves of tension washing out from him.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  Before I had time to take off my coat, he buzzed the inner door open for me.

  “You need to talk to Sandra,” was all Danno would say.

  I smiled at him anyway and walked through the door and down the hallway to Sandra’s small office. Her door was open, and I went to stand in the doorway.

  Sandra looked up at me from behind her small desk. She wasn’t smiling either. A frown lined her fine-boned face, and I felt emotional waves coming from her too. Concern, worry, and was that disappointment?

  “Come in and sit down, Myrna,” she said.

  I walked in and unbuttoned my coat, but I didn’t take it off. Then I sat down on the wood-frame chair in front of her desk and looked at her. I waited for her to speak.

  Sandra was silent. For a few moments, she just stared at me. Again I felt the emotional waves from her.

  That’s interesting, I thought. Am I reading people’s emotions now? Or am I just imaging things? And if I’m reading her emotions, is she about to fire me? I suddenly wondered.

  “I’ve heard something very disturbing, Myrna,” she finally spoke. “It was about you.”

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “Yes, Myrna. I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but is it true that you were out at the Tenderloin Club two nights ago? And were you kissing one of your clients there?”

  Sandra looked at me, and the feeling that poured out of her now a was deep sadness.

  I was filled with a strong desire to take away that sadness, but I didn’t know if I could.

  “Yes. It’s true,” I said. “I was there. And I ended up kissing Laz, but I didn’t plan on that. Anyway, I know you’re upset about it, and I want to explain why. I hope it’ll make you feel better, but I know it might not.”

  “OK. Go ahead,” said Sandra.

  “Well, we’ve talked a lot about Chloe and all the other clients who’ve disappeared,” I began.

  “Yes, we have,” said Sandra.

  She stared at me, and I felt her sadness grow less but her concern grow more.

  Concern that I’m crazy, or I’ve lost it, I thought.

  But I tried to explain.

  “Well, I found out where the man who took Chloe comes out of the subway and where he goes after that,” I said. “I followed him to the Tenderloin Club. And last week, I saw him leave the club with another teenager. I tried to tell the police what I knew, but they wouldn’t listen to me. So that’s when I decided to do it on my own. I’m the only one who can find out what’s going on. Find out where that man takes them and then report it when I have proof.”

  Sandra sat back in her old cushioned chair and sighed deeply.

  “I’m not using drugs, and I swear I didn’t mean to kiss Laz,” I told her. “He was there, and I was talking to him, and it just happened. That was all that happened, and it won’t happen again, I promise. He’s my client, and I take my commitment to the clinic seriously. And anyway, I can’t let anything get in the way of finding Chloe’s kidnapper. So that won’t happen again.”

  Sandra didn’t seem at all reassured by my explanation, and the waves of worry I felt from her were only stronger now. But at least that sense of disappointment was gone. That had bothered me most of all.

  But now she thinks I’m definitely crazy, I guessed.

  Sandra stood up and walked around her desk to me. She placed a hand on my shoulder. I was shocked! This physical contact was forbidden by the clinic’s rules. Then Sandra removed her hand and sat down next to me in the second wooden chair in front of her desk.

  She looked in my eyes and spoke. I felt her emotions again. I could almost see them as colors in my mind—pinks and reds. Now I felt her caring as well as her worry and concern.

  I knew almost for sure that she was about to fire me, and I was surprised that I wasn’t worried about it. Regretful but not worried. It seemed minor next to the importance of what I was doing. I sat silent and let her say what she had to say.

  “Myrna, you’re very young,” she began. “But I took a chance on hiring you anyway because it was clear that you care about our clients. And I knew that you can relate to them too. But it seems like maybe I made the wrong decision. You do care deeply and passionately, and you do relate to your clients, but I think you care too much. And you’re so young that you can’t separate yourself from them, perhaps. And now these disappearances have been too much for you to handle. It’s my fault for putting you in this situation. I’m the one who did this to you!” she said as if she’d had a sudden revelation.

  Sandra lowered her face into her hands, and I could see she was crying.

  “No, Sandra,” I said.

  Now I made the forbidden physical contact of patting her on the shoulder.

  “You weren’t wrong, and nothing is your fault,” I said. “It’s the fault of the man who took Chloe and the others. I know you have to fire me, and that’s OK. And I know you think I’ve lost my mind. Anyway, I’m going to find that man and where he’s taking people. That’s all that’s important now. I’ll find that out if it’s the last thing I do. I promise you that.”

  Sandra had looked back up at me when I was talking. I stared into her eyes, willing her t
o see the strength of my intention, but I saw and felt that she still wasn’t convinced of my sanity.

  She reached out a hand and lifted a small card from her desk. Then she held it toward me in an unsteady hand.

  “Take this, Myrna,” she said. “It’s Gorg’s number. In case you don’t have it. Take it and call him please.”

  I took the card and put it in my coat pocket, but I didn’t say I’d call. Then I stood up to leave. Sandra stood up to. I made another forbidden gesture of physical contact by giving her a quick hug.

  “Please don’t worry about me, Sandra,” I said, although I knew perfectly well that she would.

  As I turned and walked out the door, I wanted to reassure her that I’d be OK, but I couldn’t.

  “Goodbye Myrna. Good luck,” said Danno from behind his barred-off partition.

  He stuck a hand through the opening in the bars, and I took it.

  “Bye Danno. Thank you,” I said. “And good luck to you too.”

  Then I buttoned up my coat and left my job for the last time.

  Outside on the street, I started walking south, and now I felt both fear and loss.

  How will I support myself? I wondered. What if I can’t find another job? I loved this job. I’ll never find another job so perfect for me.

  I realized that I should have been even more worried and sad, but those feelings were somehow muffled.

  It’s not about me, I told myself. I’m doing what I need to do, and that’s what matters. I’m going to the club tonight. And now because I don’t have a job, I can go home and sleep first, so I’ll be rested up for whatever happens. I’ll be at my best—physically and mentally. So maybe getting fired was a good thing.

  The sense of loss was still with me, but now I was at peace with it.

  Chapter 18

  I got back to the apartment in Brooklyn about an hour later. Frank and Rita were both at work. So I didn’t have to explain why I was home so early. I went straight to my room. Suddenly I felt tired from being up so late the last two nights. I put on my pajamas and took a long nap.

  I woke when the late afternoon sun slanted bright and warm on my face through my room’s west window. All was quiet in the apartment. I got up and took a long, hot shower. As I was leaving the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my head, still in my pajamas, Frank came in the front door.