by Darcia Helle
Michael turned away. He glanced at his watch, sipped his beer. If he was smart, he’d be in bed instead of here inhaling smoke and cheap perfume. Although even that prospect didn’t hold the allure it should have. Sleep was much harder to come by these days.
The young women left, which devastated the group of Neanderthals. They’d apparently had high hopes for the evening. Michael slipped into the now empty booth and tried not to stare at his watch or the door.
Ten minutes later she slid onto the seat opposite him. She’d recently highlighted her hair, adding a glint of gold to the deep brunette. Thin straps of her tank top settled on the edge of her slender shoulders, giving the allusion that at any moment one may slide down and expose a full, round breast. A C-cup. Not implants. She’d shared that with him long ago.
Now she met his eyes. Hers were large mocha coils that held a vault of secrets in their depths. Her eyes had always saddened Michael in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Something about what lay hidden behind them made him want to protect her. That was the reason he hadn’t seen or spoken to Nicki in more than six months. Of course there were other reasons, none of which he cared to confront at the moment. Or ever.
Sitting here across from her, that familiar feeling caused him to ache all over again. He wanted to hold her. And he wanted to run. How foolish was that?
A fresh scrape crossed her cheek. Her lip had been split and had swelled to twice its normal size. Michael wanted to ask what happened but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. He settled on a simple, “Hi Nicki.”
She grinned and her eyes twinkled in the dim light. “Hi yourself. You look great.”
“You too.”
Nicki touched her lip. “Yeah, this adds character, don’t you think?”
Michael sidestepped that, still not sure he wanted to know. “Do you want a drink?”
Nicki reached across the table, grabbed Michael’s beer, and took a long swallow. “That’ll do me,” she replied. “It’s loud in here.”
“Sure is.”
“I’m feeling a little crowded. Maybe this conversation could be moved elsewhere?”
Michael nodded. A phone call from Nicki had been the last thing he’d expected tonight. Or any night, for that matter. Theirs had been a strange relationship. He didn’t care to explore whatever feelings he had and, when things had become too intense for his liking, he’d broken off contact.
Months had gone by. He’d considered her no longer a part of his life. Yet, when he heard her voice on the other end of that phone, it was like they’d seen each other only the day before. All those old feelings remained, hidden beneath the façade he held up to the world.
When she’d asked him for his help, he hadn’t hesitated. In fact, he hadn’t even asked what the problem was. He’d simply agreed to meet her. And, now, here he was, still not asking.
“My place isn’t a good idea,” Nicki said. “For reasons I will soon explain.”
For reasons of his own, Michael agreed. His house was a 30-minute ride, which gave him a convenient excuse not to invite her there. While he tried to sort through – or ignore – his feelings, Nicki said, “I need to get a room somewhere for the night. Maybe you could come with me? We could talk there?”
When Michael didn’t immediately respond, Nicki said, “Or we could just talk in the car if you’d rather.”
“No,” Michael replied. “A hotel works. Something wrong at your apartment?”
“Probably not a good place for me to be tonight.” Nicki touched her lip again. “Long story. And you’re the lucky one who gets to hear it all.”
Michael stood, signaling toward the door. “You have a place in mind?”
“I was thinking of the Motel 19 down the street.”
“Hell, you don’t want to stay there. The roaches would probably eat you alive while you slept.”
“I’ve lived through worse.”
Michael nodded, recalling some of the stories Nicki had told him. He said, “How about the Sheraton? My treat.”
Nicki’s eyes widened. Her grin made her eyes shine. “An upscale hotel room alone with you? You sure you trust me? It’s been awhile but I think I can still remember my way around your body.”
Michael shook his head but an electric jolt raced up his spine. Nicki was a mystifying beauty. He’d met her eight months after Christina died. She’d saved him from a lot of lonely nights and probably some desperate behavior back then. After awhile they’d become good friends. He’d often wondered what might have happened had she not been a prostitute and he a killer hung up on a dead woman.
Michael brushed a finger over Nicki’s cheek. “I think I can trust you,” he said.
“I really don’t expect you to pay,” Nicki said. “I’m okay staying where I can afford.”
“I know that,” Michael said. “But I’m not okay with you staying there. So, are you ready?”
Chapter 17
Michael stifled a yawn as he slid his credit card across the marble counter. The woman on the other side, looking barely 21, gave him a slow smile and called him Mr. Sykora. For some reason, the combination made him feel slimy.
Nicki had wandered in leisurely behind him, taking in the lobby’s elaborate décor. Now she leaned against the counter and said, “You don’t get many hookers in here, do you?”
The clerk’s jaw fell open. She made a sound that came out like, “Ummm…” but no words followed.
Michael gave the clerk a little shrug and stifled another yawn. Nicki’s antics didn’t faze him but the clerk was sure at a loss. He read the little brass nameplate above her right breast and said, “Have you got something for me to sign, Katelynn?”
“Oh, sorry,” Katelynn mumbled. She grabbed the credit card and pushed a check-in form in front of him. Then she scurried a few feet away to run the card through the machine.
Nicki leaned against him and whispered, “She embarrasses easily, don’t you think?”
“Illicit sex does that to some people,” Michael said.
“So you don’t think she’d be receptive to a threesome?”
“Doubt it.”
“Too bad. She’s cute.”
Laughing, Michael said, “Behave yourself.”
Nicki rested her head on Michael’s shoulder and said, “Ahh, you love me this way.”
“You’re right,” Michael admitted. “But the rest of the world doesn’t always understand you.”
“Their loss,” Nicki said. Then she flitted toward the elevators.
Katelynn returned Michael’s credit card, handed him the room key, and wished him a good evening all without meeting his eyes. He joined Nicki at the elevators and they headed up to the fourth floor.
Once inside the room, Nicki plopped on the king-size bed. “First, I want to apologize for dragging you into this,” she said. “I wouldn’t have bothered you but you’re the only one I know who can help me. Besides, I don’t trust anyone else. I hope this doesn’t create a problem with a girlfriend or …”
“Charge whatever you want to the room,” Michael said. “They have room service. You can get yourself a big breakfast.”
Nicki nodded as she pulled off her strappy sandals and dropped them on the floor. “That’s nice. Thank you. And I see you still have a way of dodging that which you don’t wish to discuss.”
Michael found the thermostat and turned the air conditioner down a few degrees. Then he walked over to the bed, propped the pillows against the headboard, and sat down. Part of him thought this was a bad idea. The other part of him said, “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I got out of the business,” Nicki said. “Four months ago. Remember those college courses I’d been taking forever? I finally managed to get my Associate’s degree. I want to eventually get my Bachelor’s… but that’s another story. For now, I’m out and that’s the important thing. I’m a counselor at a women’s shelter.”
A dozen thoughts raced through Michael’s mind at once. He latched on to one, the one he
was comfortable vocalizing, and said, “That’s great, Nicki. Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” Nicki said. “But of course that’s not why I asked you to meet me. I got too involved wanting to save these women. I made a huge mistake. All the time I spent on the streets, you’d think I’d know better.”
“What happened?”
“One of the women who came in was running from this street thug she’d been living with. He’d beat her bad. It had happened before but the woman said each time was worse. She smartened up and came to us.”
Nicki squeezed her fists together in her lap as she spoke. She paused a moment, then sighed and shook her head. “She and I talked all the time. I thought we had really connected. I gave her my number, told her she could call me anytime she needed someone to talk to. I even took her to my apartment one day when I had errands to run.”
Michael remained silent, resisting the urge to take Nicki in his arms and promise to make everything okay again. With another shake of her head, Nicki continued, “So stupid. That’s the first rule we learn. Never give out any personal information. No phone number. Definitely not an address. But I thought she and I were friends. I wanted to help keep her safe.”
“I can understand that,” Michael said quietly.
“She went back to the asshole,” Nicki said. “Stunned me, though I don’t know why. I’ve met a lot of stupid women. Her boyfriend found my number on her phone. Beat her until she told him who I was. And where I lived.”
“Jesus,” Michael muttered. “And he came after you tonight?”
“Last night,” Nicki said. Then, without meeting Michael’s eyes, she filled him in on the recent events. Afterwards, she said, “You know I don’t scare easily. But this time I know I’m in way too deep. I don’t know what I did to piss him off but he sure as hell wants me gone.”
Michael watched her, waiting. He wasn’t sure what to say. What kind of help was she looking for? How much did she know about what he did?
Finally Nicki fixed her liquid gaze on Michael and said, “Before he knocked me unconscious, he told me in detail what he planned to do to me. He and his friends. He promised I’d be begging to die by the time he got around to killing me.”
Adrenaline rushed through Michael’s body. He wanted to strangle this bastard. He said, “I don’t suppose you’ve called the cops.”
Nicki gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Please. I’m an ex-hooker. You know what kind of credibility that gives me. And if Lott’s telling the truth about the cocaine, the cops will lock me up without a second thought.”
“They’d have no reason to search your apartment,” Michael said.
“Maybe not. Still…”
“And your previous profession has nothing to do with this.”
“I know you are in no way that naïve!”
“Okay, you’re right,” Michael said. “But I have a good friend. He’d listen.”
“Yeah, Isaac, right? I remember you mentioning him a few times. He might try, for your sake. But, honestly, what do you think he’s going to be able to do?”
“Arrest the guy,” Michael said. He ran a finger lightly across Nicki’s lip. “Assault is illegal.”
“My word against his. Remember, I’m the hooker. Could’ve been any pissed off john.”
Though Michael did not want to admit it, Nicki was right. The so-called justice system had major flaws, which was what had driven him into his current side profession. He gazed down at the floral bedspread. Nicki’s tanned, slender legs stretched out in front of him. He remembered how her skin felt beneath his fingers. He’d already lost one woman to a psycho loser. No way was that going to happen again.
“What is it you want me to do, Nicki?” Michael asked.
“The way I see it, “Nicki said, “I have two choices. I can uproot my life, move across country, and hope I’m not important enough to this guy for him to continue hunting me down. Or this guy has to go.”
“And you think I can help you with that?”
Nicki slowly nodded. “Sometimes we have to make our own justice. And a friendly ghost can help us with that.”
Michael’s heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that she knew? He wasn’t sure how to respond. All he managed was, “Nicki…”
She scooted closer, placed her hand lightly on his thigh. “Look,” she said, “we’ve known each other a long time. We got close. I know you needed space from that and I respect your decision. But it doesn’t change what we had together.”
The closeness suddenly felt suffocating. Michael stood, walked to the window and peered out at the dark city. Nicki said, “I’ve spent most of my life on the streets, Michael. I’m pretty good at putting things together. I know, at the very least, you’ve got connections. And I really need your help.”
“You can’t go to work for a few days,” Michael said. “It’s not safe.”
“I know.”
“Don’t tell your boss what’s going on. Just say you’re sick. This guy disappears after you tell the story and fingers point straight to you.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll stop by your apartment after work tomorrow,” Michael said, “take care of the coke and bring you some clothes.”
“Thank you.”
“This guy have a name?”
“Antonio Lott,” Nicki replied.
Michael had never come remotely close to discussing his side business with anyone other than Sean. Of course it would happen with Nicki. They’d always had that kind of connection. Should that make him feel better or worse?
He turned, met her eyes, and said, “Don’t leave this room. Make damn sure it’s me or room service before you open the door.”
“Okay.”
Michael turned away from the emotion in Nicki’s eyes, not wanting to put a name to it. He held out his hand, palm up, and said, “Give me the keys to your apartment.”
Nicki placed them in Michael’s hand. “Be careful,” she said. “Lott’s probably keeping an eye on the place.”
“Okay.”
“I need to know how much this is going to cost.”
Michael sighed, leaned across the bed, and kissed Nicki’s cheek. He said, “You always did make me a little crazy.”
“And you always seemed to enjoy it when I did!”
“I’m leaving. Lock the door.”
“Michael, I don’t have much money, so -”
He turned back to her, shaking his head, “Did I ask you for any?”
“No …”
“Then lock the door,” Michael said.
Chapter 18
Instead of working on the software program he should be designing, Michael sat in his office hacking into various records. What he found was that Antonio Lott had no vehicle registered in his name and no legal source of income. Lott rented an apartment in a crappy section of Tampa but had no phone listed at that address.
Ruby tapped on the door, then, without waiting for Michael’s response, pushed it open and stepped inside. She said, “You been locked up in here brooding all morning.”
Michael clicked out of the window he’d had open on his computer screen and popped up the software he should be working on. He said, “I’m not brooding.”
“You prefer I call it pouting?”
Frowning, Michael looked up. Ruby had taken her no-nonsense stance, with both feet planted firmly about a foot apart and her hands spread out over her fleshy hips. “I do not pout,” he said.
“Really now? You look in the mirror yet today?”
“Did you come in here solely for the pleasure of giving me a hard time?”
“Course not,” Ruby replied. “It just comes so easy, sometimes I can’t help myself.”
“Lucky me.”
Ruby crossed the room and lowered herself into the leather visitor’s chair opposite Michael’s desk. She asked, “Have you spoken to your father since the other day?”
“No.”
“Isaac was pretty upset that he had to find out from me. Just b
ecause he’s involved with someone don’t mean he won’t be there for you.”
“I know.” Michael turned back to his computer screen, hoping something would jump out and rescue him from this conversation. “I was busy. It’s no big deal.”
“I bet your father doesn’t feel that way.”
“Ruby…”
“I know, you’re gonna tell me the man deserves what he’s getting. Right?”
Michael shrugged. “He’s been drowning in a bottle for almost 20 years now. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me that we reap what we sow?”
“Yes,” Ruby replied. “But that don’t mean you stop having feelings for people when they’re hurting.”
“I haven’t had feelings for him in a long time.”
Ruby reached across the desk and squeezed Michael’s hand in hers. Her tone was soft as she said, “You don’t really expect me to believe that now, do you?”
“It’s the truth.”
“Michael Lee Sykora, you and I both know better.”
Michael shook his head. “He lost himself in the bottle and left me to fend for myself.”
“He’s made mistakes. But he’s still your father.”
“By blood only.”
“You’re as stubborn as a mule.”
Michael chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of being stubborn. You, Ruby, are the reigning queen.”
Ruby hid her smirk as she eased herself out of the chair. “You should call Isaac. Talk. It’ll do you good.”
“I’ll call him. I’ve just been busy.”
Ruby’s jet black eyes narrowed. She gave Michael a hard look and said, “That, Michael, is part of your problem. You know, you’re quick to blame your father for turning to the bottle. But I don’t see that you’re doing things much different.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Aren’t you drowning yourself in your work?” She held his eyes until he looked away. Then she said, “It’s just another form of escape. You think about that.”
***
By early afternoon Michael had given up the pretext of working and shut down his computer. His attention had been on Nicki and the need to eliminate Lott from her life. Then there was his father and all the associated baggage swirling around the periphery of his thoughts. He’d started the day hoping work would be a pleasant distraction. What a farce that had turned out to be.