by A. Gomez
I exhaled, thankful for a little backup.
Chang yelled something in Mandarin. Tony came to his side, answering whatever question was asked and then got on his cell phone. Debbie already has another set of PJs for Betty and some undergarments as well. She called Betty to her but she shook her head no at Debbie.
“Let me calm her down for you. Please. I can dress her,” my voice was pleading. I could feel Betty trembling with fear behind me, holding on for dear life to my hips. Fear, apprehension, confusion, terror were all radiating off her poor, small, delicate body. She shouldn’t have to go through this or even witness it. No child should.
“Sure, that’s fine,” Debbie said. “Does she want to bathe? She looks like her hair is covered in blood. And you look like you need to clean up too.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” I replied.
“Let me get another bathroom ready for yous both.” She paused, turning to Chang. “Is that all right, Boss?”
He nodded, his eyes still on me. Tony came back in with Debbie’s Asian, male companion from the hospital to remove the body. Betty and I made sure to stay out of their way. I stood in front of Betty, trying to shield her eyes from the horror of a murdered body. She buried her face on the small of my back.
“Dr. Langley,” Victor Chang finally spoke. He had a slight Chinese accent and a very husky voice. “Once you and your young friend are finished cleaning yourselves up, please join me in the dining room for a drink. This isn’t a request,” he added. His expression was still unreadable.
“Yes, sir,” I answered. He turned on his heel and stalked out.
“Come on, girls.” Debbie was motioning for us to follow her. “Let me show you to another bathroom. You can use this other one until we get this one cleaned up.” Her tone was very nonchalant, almost a shit-happens-life-goes-on kind of attitude. It was very unsettling to witness. There was no concern or inquiry as to how Betty was. What happened to her shocked demeanor a moment ago? Was she just shocked that Gator Leg was dead or that I killed him? Obviously, there was no love lost there since she didn’t blink twice once Tony and the other Asian man removed him. “Lilly, you can use the same bathroom as our new guests until this mess is cleaned up,” she said casually to the girl that had been asleep but was now awake, no doubt due to all the screaming and killing that had been going on.
I wrapped Betty in a towel since she was bottomless and headed out. Lilly watched us, gaping, as we walked out.
While Betty was showering, and I sat in the bathroom waiting for her to finish. She asked me to stay in there with her and not leave her. She was frightened out of her mind. I was rubbing my temples, tension building in every fiber of my being. I looked at myself in the mirror and hardly recognized myself. I was covered in blood and I looked ashen, sick almost. A nice strawberry was forming on the cheek where Gator Leg had backhanded me. That was going to hurt. I heard the water shut off and saw Betty Lou drying herself off. I brought her new undies and pajamas. She quickly dressed.
“Isabel Grace, do you want me to stay with you while you shower?” she asked, her voice angelic. I knew she was not asking for my benefit but for hers.
“Sure.” I smiled. “And while I’m showering, look for a brush so you can brush your hair.” I showered quickly. Too quickly, in fact, not letting myself enjoy the hot water or the fragrant bath gels that were in the shower. I didn’t want to get another unpleasant surprise and be caught nude trying to defend Betty or myself. I got out in a rush and dried off. I put on the same panties and bra I came in wearing, but opted for the clean pajamas Debbie handed me. I looked around for a bag I could put my bloody clothes in. This bathroom seemed larger than the one we were just in and had too many doors and cabinets to deal with. Ugh! I didn’t find any bags, just more condoms and makeup this time.
I decided to fold our clothes and laid them in a neat pile. As I was picking my jeans up the tampon fell out. THE TAMPON! Belín’s high-tech tampon! I had completely forgotten I had it. I picked it up and took it out of its packaging so I could turn it on when I decided I’d better do that in the toilet when I was alone. Since I had no pockets, I decided to place it where I had hidden the gun.
“Hi,” a soft voice said. “You can just leave your clothes on the floor. Someone will get them tomorrow and clean them.”
I whirled to see who was talking, my eyes widened. Betty Lou was at my side at once, clasping my hand, half hiding behind me.
“My name is Lilly. I saw what you did,” she said. “I always hoped someone would get rid of that asshole Frank.”
Lilly looked young, but not as young as Betty Lou. More late teens or very early twenties. She had a pretty face and a petite body. Her hair was dark and cut to her shoulders. She was wearing the same satin PJs Betty and I had on.
“Hi Lilly,” I answered. “My name is Isabel Grace and this is Betty Lou. It’s very nice to meet you.” I shifted on my feet awkwardly. She waved at Betty but Betty didn’t come out from behind me; she gave Lilly a shy wave back. “I’m sorry we woke you. And I’m sorry you had to witness that. It’s something no one should ever have to see,” I offered.
“It’s okay, I hated him and I always wanted to do it but I didn’t know how or if I even could. I’m glad you did.” She nodded her head, wiping away a tear. Did she feel relief now that he was gone for good and couldn’t hurt her anymore? My heart ached for her and all I wanted to do was hug her.
“Well, I’m glad Gator Leg is gone too. That’s one less evil man roaming the Earth.”
“Gator Leg?” she cocked her head to one side, looking puzzled.
“Oh, yeah, I nicknamed him Gator Leg because he reminded me of an alligator walking when he walked.”
Both girls began to giggle softly.
“I heard Mr. Chang wants you downstairs with him.” Lilly was trying to stop giggling. “If you want, I can take care of Betty Lou while you go meet with him. Miss Debbie brought in some milk and cookies to the room. We can eat that while we wait for you.” She gazed at Betty Lou. “Don’t worry, Isabel Grace just killed the meanest man that comes through here so no one else will bother us tonight.”
Betty Lou looked up at me and her angelic face was fraught with fear. I gave her an encouraging nod. “It’s okay. Remember what I said about praying. Plus, I think Lilly will take good care of you. I’ll try my best to hurry him along.”
“You better go. You really don’t want to keep him waiting. It could be bad for not just you but Betty Lou too, if he gets angry.”
Her words stabbed me like a dagger. I believed her. The man was a textbook sociopath and was capable of anything. “Thank you, Lilly.” I tried to keep my composure calm and reassuring for Betty Lou’s sake. I didn’t know Lilly, so therefore I really didn’t trust her but I had no other choice.
I took a deep breath, put my shoes on and headed downstairs, trying to remember my way to the living room, or rather to where the Picasso hung. Hopefully, Debbie would be there to direct me. If not, that would be my starting point and from there I would try and find my way to the dining room. How hard could it be? I would just need to look for a room with a dining room table.
My hands were shaking from fear and tension. What was Chang going to do with me or to me? What would happen to Betty Lou if he killed me? I had killed one of his men and shot another. My imagination went wild. I shook it off and told myself to just survive until Josh could get here. I made my way down the less elaborate set of stairs. I found myself in the kitchen with no sign of Debbie. I walked toward where I thought the Picasso was and found myself in another living room with another Picasso. This one from his blue period, I believed. I gasped softly, impressed by its beauty and how magnificent it was. Replica or not, it was very impressive. I stood from afar, admiring it. Cocking my head from side to side, wondering how or who inspired Picasso to paint this piece.
“It is called Lady at Eden Concert,” Victor Chang startled me from behind. I spun, taking a step back away from him. “It is one of
Picasso’s more famous pieces from his blue period.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Yes, I think so as well. She looks so lovely and yet so melancholy. He is one of my favorite artists. I wonder what he was feeling and thinking when he was painting this.”
“He was melancholy himself,” I offered. “His blue period was when his friend, the poet… um… Carlos Casagemas, I think was his name, committed suicide. Of course, other factors influenced his blue period as well, not just his friend’s suicide. At the time he was struggling to sell his paintings and was living in poverty, so this could have been a factor as well.” I paused, then added, “It’s a very impressive replica.”
“Ha, ha,” he laughed. “I do not acquire replicas, Dr. Langley. I can assure you.” His tone had a ring of irritation. Was he insulted?
“Uh, so the Georges Seurat upstairs, the one at the top of the stairs going up from the kitchen, you’re telling me that’s the original?” I asked, incredulously.
“It is and let’s just say, the one that is in the museum may or may not be a flawless copy,” he said with a grin. “Shall we go to the dining room?” he asked as if I were his guest here and not a prisoner that was kidnapped and scared beyond belief I might get raped.
29
We walked silently to a very elegant room with a long, elegant dining table. It looked like it could seat around fifteen people. I idly wondered if that was how many girls he had prisoner here. Like a perfect gentleman, he pulled out my chair for me. I briefly frowned at him and then sat down. He sat down next to me. A very fragrant drink was already sitting in front of us, waiting for us to drink. Right above our drinks was a small plate of assorted petit fours. They looked enticing.
“Dr. Langley, I am impressed that you know your art. I have many pieces here that we could possibly have long discussions on.” He took a sip of his drink. “Including a few sculptures.”
“My mother’s family is very big on the arts. I have a few family members that are curators and one that works for Christie’s. So, you could say I grew up around the arts.”
“How very impressive,” he crooned. “I would have loved to have met these relatives. How unfortunate that these circumstances are preventing me from doing so.”
“Indeed,” I replied dryly. I snorted inwardly. This man was nuts.
“Dr. Langley, why do you not drink? This is a very old and special cognac. I’ve been saving this for just the right occasion. Please, don’t be shy.”
“Excuse me if I’m a little apprehensive. I have a nagging feeling this may be poisoned,” I said eyeing my cognac.
“Nonsense,” he chided. “I would never do that to this exquisite vintage. It would be sacrilege.” He reached for my goblet and took a long drink from it. “See, perfectly safe.” He handed it to me, watching me, waiting for me to drink. Shit! This guy cared more about his liquor than he did for human life. My adrenaline was surging as I took it from his hand. Here goes nothing. I took a swig.
“Mmm.” My eyes were wide with surprise, flickering to his. “Mr. Chang, this is… amazing.” I took another sip, relishing the aroma and flavor as it slid so smoothly down my throat. “Mr. Chang, your taste in cognacs is unexpectedly good. I must say I am impressed. Is this Gran Duque De Alba?”
He had a ridiculously huge grin. “I knew you would appreciate it. And yes, you are correct! How very impressive, Dr. Langley, you know your cognacs as well. I don’t have the opportunity to enjoy this with good company often… or with anyone at all, in my line of work.” What the hell? Did he just refer to what he does his “line of work?” He paused, looking at his drink. He had a melancholy expression on his face. If I didn’t know better, I would almost feel sorry for him. “It would be wasted on people such as Tony or Frank who just drink to get drunk, not stopping to appreciate what they are drinking. Not bothering to educate themselves on the finer things in life.” He stopped talking, still gazing at his drink. It seemed like he wanted to say something more but he stopped himself.
“Um, thank you,” I said, taking another drink. “But I’m sure you are able to share this with whatever acquaintances you make at all these art places you go to.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t,” he sighed, his tone somber. “I can never be too careful in my line of work and so I don’t mingle and I rarely talk to anyone else.”
“What about Debbie?” I wondered.
“No.” He shook his head, gazing down at the table unseeingly, saying nothing more. “Dr. Langley, under different circumstances I think we would get along famously.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that statement. He sounded almost regretful that he’d chosen this path. He had every opportunity to get out, yet he’d chosen to stay. He’d even gone so far as to buy a little twelve-year-old girl! Hm, his speech didn’t match his actions. There was something there I was missing.
“Mr. Chang, why am I here? I thought you wanted me dead so I couldn’t testify.”
He regarded me for an immeasurable moment. “You really are very beautiful,” he said, cocking his head to one side. “More beautiful than I expected and very bright. It would be a shame to destroy something so beautiful. It would be like destroying my beautiful Picasso we were just admiring.” He took another sip. So, he saw me as a thing and not a person or a living human being. This must be his way of justifying his actions when he did kill someone. Separating himself from that person, objectifying them, convincing himself they were merely property and not a living, breathing human being. Expendable. All for the greater good of his business. This must be what he told himself when he killed innocent girls, when he killed Tori.
Then inspiration hit me. When he had said, “It would be a shame to destroy something so beautiful. It would be like destroy my beautiful Picasso we were just admiring.” That was the answer! I had to make sure I pleased him and he kept admiring me. It seemed as though he craved conversation and companionship, so that was what I would do. I’d talk art or whatever else he might want. Thank God for my mother always taking us to art museums here and abroad. I never thought I would say that after all those long, boring hours of lectures and tours and reading about the artists. Thank you, Mom!
“It was getting to be nearly impossible to kill you after Tony and Frank accidentally poisoned that FBI agent. Then Ginger told me you are a virgin. My interest was piqued. When I saw you, I knew you could make me a lot more money than anyone else. With your looks and your virginity…” He laughed a high-pitched, bone-chilling laugh. “Let’s just say you will possibly start a bidding war.”
“I see,” I sighed, shaking my head in disbelief. “Never in my wildest dreams, or nightmares for that matter, would I have thought that my virginity would get me into this kind of horrific situation.” An inappropriate giggle escaped.
“Do not fret, Dr. Langley, you belong in a very different category. I am not going to put you on the same website as the other girls. No, you are going into a special one where the clientele has very, very, very deep pockets,” he said smirking, his expression dark. “You will most certainly make me a great deal of money.”
I decided to try and take control of the conversation. I had had enough of the selling Isabel Grace Langley talk. I asked him about the rest of his art he had mentioned, about his sculptures. His face lit up and his smile reached his eyes. He was instantly delighted and began to tell me about the sculptures. He said talking about them didn’t do them justice: I must see them to appreciate their true beauty. So, he took me on a tour of his mansion. We stopped in every room with the exception of the bedrooms. The mansion, the artwork, the furniture, it was all so breathtaking. The epitome of opulence. After a few minutes of walking around and looking around, I began to get my bearings. He casually mentioned there weren’t any originals in the bedrooms, only very good reproductions. The sculptures were incredible. I recognized a few and he educated me on a few. I got the impression he enjoyed educating me on the ones I knew nothing about. The ones I was familiar with, we di
scussed at length and also discussed the artist and what he or she must have felt. There were a few times we got into a debate over modern art versus abstract art. I tried not to upset him but kept it light and interesting. I think I succeeded since I observed he wore a smile the entire time.
He noticed I was yawning and apologized for keeping me up so late. What? Why would he care how late it was and if I was tired? I was just a thing to him. A thug with manners… how about that. I arched an eyebrow at him.
“Dr. Langley, I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed myself tonight. I haven’t had such stimulating conversation since… I can’t remember when.” He paused, gazing into my eyes. “It’s very late and I can see you are tired. I could go on and on talking about art.” He walked me to my room and clasped my hand in between both of his. “I will see you in the morning. Rest well. Perhaps next time we can discuss music… another one of my favorites.” And with that, he turned and stalked off.
I walked in quietly and went to where Betty Lou was fast asleep. She didn’t stir when I sat on the bed. What the hell had just happened? The sociopath, sex trafficker that had kidnapped me and bought a twelve-year-old girl had behaved as if we were friends, or at the very least friendly acquaintances, and enjoyed his evening with me? I didn’t know what to make of tonight. My heart steadied and I could feel my body relax just a bit. I glanced in Lilly’s direction and she too, was dead to the world. I decided this was the perfect time to get the tampon out. If anyone heard noises it’d be bathroom noises and no one would think twice.
I shut the door behind me and looked under the sink where I left everything. The gun and tampon were still there. I decided to hide the gun a little better than under here so no one would accidentally find it. I closed the cabinet doors and sat on the edge of the enormous tub to inspect the tampon. I took it out of its wrapping and turned the switch to the on position. Hm, the small, red light was going to be a problem. I didn’t know how to hide it unless I actually put it inside me. But if I did that, would they still be able to find the signal? I had to do something, anything. I pulled my pajama bottoms and panties down and was about to insert the tampon when I saw the little red light go out. I inhaled sharply. No! I inspected it carefully, turning the power switch on and off several times and the light didn’t come back on. FUUUUCK!! The battery was dead. I let my head hang and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling defeated. Get it together, Isabel Grace. You’re smarter and braver than this, I told myself.
