Violet Grenade

by Victoria Scott

  Cain’s hands are suddenly on my waist. He hoists me up and spins me around. My back presses against the cool clapboard wall, and he slams his hands on either side of my body, pinning me between the house and his massive frame. He brings his lips to my ear and a low rumble sounds in his throat. “You want to know my secret? Here it is. I’m dangerous. I’m a fault line beneath your feet. An asteroid barreling toward the earth. A bomb fuse begging to burn.” His lips brush my skin, and I shiver. “Just light a match, Domino, and watch me explode.”

  He pulls back his head and meets my stare. His brown eyes blaze with pain so deep I could wade waist-high in it. “I keep my head down so I don’t snap. Because I snapped once before, and I did something terrible.” He lowers his voice. “I am terrible. And unsafe. So stay the hell away from me.”

  His face softens like he despises himself and instantly regrets what he said. His arms drop away and he strides toward the house. Sweat forms at my temples and my body quivers. Not because of what happened. But because watching him just now—and hearing the poison that spewed from those lips—

  It was like looking in the mirror.

  I gather myself for a few minutes before going upstairs and finishing the night. The drug in my system eventually wears off, but the conversation I had with Cain sticks. I should be repulsed by what he showed me outside. Instead, I want to open his skull like a can of peaches and sit down with a spoon. Maybe he’s as messed up as I am. I doubt it, but it’s possible. If that’s true, he may be the only person I’ve spoken to who understands my past and the scars it left behind.

  He says he’s dangerous.

  But I’m not afraid. Not with Wilson slipping quietly into his corner of my mind, circling once, twice, like a tired cat, before flopping down, tail curled around his body.

  I saw what happened out there, he says, drained. I couldn’t respond, but I saw.

  Be quiet.

  That Cain character… Wilson continues. Maybe I judged too soon. He’s a nice kid. He’s got spunk.

  He’s got demons.

  Spunk, demons. Tomato, tomahto.

  Ruby approaches me after the customers have left and we’ve cleaned up the Inferno. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Look, why don’t you hang out with us for a while. Calm down a bit. I know that guy slipped you something. Not cool. I may condone recreational candy, but I would never give it to someone unsuspecting.”

  “Thanks,” I tell her. “But I think I’ll go to bed.”

  Ruby pulls me into a quick hug. So quick I don’t mind it much. “Domino, listen to me, okay? Just hang out with us. Let’s watch cartoons and drink the rest of the champagne.”

  Poppet glides over and says she’s game, even though it’s nearly two o’clock in the morning. So I agree. One, because it feels good to be invited. And two, because it’s a better alternative to lying in bed rehashing Cain’s every word.

  “Okay, I’m in.”

  So I stay up with Ruby and the Daisies. We laugh when The Neck comes down, huffing about the television being too loud. Then one of the girls has the idea to put on a play. She pulls Poppet and me into the production, and we tell the story of a man with supersonic hearing who feasts on other people’s happiness. It may or may not have been about someone in the house.

  The next day, Poppet and I find out we placed third and fourth, and when Jack returns that night, I tell him something true about myself: my favorite color is yellow. I don’t drink anything he gives me, and when he insists on holding my hand as we dance, I do my best to let it happen. Because Jack makes good on his promise—he gets the other customers to pay attention to Poppet and me, and that’s all I want.

  Wilson doesn’t forget what he did to us, though. He’s furious that Jack slipped something into my drink that made him lose his concentration. Me? I know Jack didn’t mean any harm, even if I don’t like what he did.

  I try not to think of my confrontation with Cain, or Wilson’s anger toward Jack, and instead focus on the girls who are rapidly becoming—dare I think it—friends. It’s almost enough to make me reconsider my plan of moving up and out.

  But then the night comes. A night I spend entirely awake with two cups of cold, leftover coffee in my belly. So that this time, I hear the shuffling.

  It comes from beneath my bed.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Abracadabra!

  An arm swings out from beneath my mattress, and I swallow bile. There’s a person under my bed. She must have come in before Poppet and I did, snuck beneath the pink fringe bed skirts, and waited until we fell asleep. No wonder our assailants still reached us when we blocked the door.

  They slept there overnight.

  They hate us that much.

  I snap forward and grab the person’s wrist. Slim, veiny—a girl’s wrist. I jerk on it and hear her squeal with surprise.

  “Get out from under there!” I yell.

  Poppet is awake now, bolting upright. “What’s going on?”

  I pull on the wrist harder until a face appears from under my bed. Because it’s dark, I cross the room and flip on the lamp. When I see who stares back at me from the floor, I gasp.

  Dark hair, blond eyebrows, a smile that says she’s almost proud to be caught.

  “Ruby?” Poppet says.

  Ruby gets to her feet and I rush to Poppet’s bed, peek underneath. There’s no one there. I turn on the Point Girl. “So it’s you then. All this time, it’s been you. Why?”

  Ruby shrugs. “You girls think you’re so special. Think the rest of us haven’t worked to move up? Think we haven’t asked the madam for the same allowances? But here you come and her equality speech goes out the window.”

  I try to mask how badly the betrayal burns. I didn’t see this coming. Not after how kind she’d been, though now I understand why she was always so adamant about keeping the lights off. It was so she could slither under our beds and stay there without being seen. “You’ve been cutting us! What in the world could that accomplish?”

  Ruby strides toward the door like she’s finished with this conversation.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you,” I snap.

  Don’t let her walk out on us, Wilson growls.

  Poppet gets to her feet. “You were the only one?”

  I look at Poppet like what does that matter, but Ruby laughs and turns partway around. “Nah. It was a group effort. See, we’re friends. But you two are just a couple of holier-than-thou skanks. You’re like parasites.” She grins and touches a finger to her nose. “One of my girls said she was counting the days until you were gone, and it gave us an idea.”

  A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. These girls are worse than the Carnations. At least they were up-front about their resentment. But to hide beneath our beds and torture us while we slept, all while being welcoming to our faces? It makes me sick.

  “I want you off my floor.” Ruby’s voice holds a warning.

  There are two beats of silence before our bedroom door opens and another Daisy strides inside. “Oh, crap. They found us out?” She throws her head back and laughs. It’s theatrical, that laugh, like she planned for this moment.

  Three more girls are close on her heels.

  Oh, good. They’re all here. It’s go time.

  “Get out,” I whisper.

  A Daisy with shiny skin, slick with lotion, crosses her arms. “Didn’t you know? We own this floor, which means we own this room, too. You could sleep in the hallway if you’d like. Right, Ruby?”

  Ruby shrugs one shoulder. “Don’t ever say we aren’t charitable.”

  “Get out of here,” I repeat. My blood pounds behind my eyes as Wilson pulls on boxing gloves, bounces around inside my head, and swings right hooks. He’s being funny, but I’m not laughing.

  The girl with the well-lotioned face uncrosses her arms and powers toward me. “I’m tired of this chick.”

  I don’t know what she intends to do, but Poppet cuts her off. Slaps her
cold across the face and shoves her backward. “You get near Domino again, and I’ll hit you a second time. This time with a closed fist.”

  The girl acts like she might accept the challenge, but Poppet is quick to flinch in her direction. “Try it! Hit me! But you better know where I come from. You better know who you’re picking a fight with.”

  I don’t move. Neither does anyone else. If Lotion Face decides to take on Poppet, I’ll hit her before she can rear back. But for now, I let Poppet hold the floor. I let her protect me. My body floods with affection for Poppet, this girl with small eyes behind thick glasses. This girl who told me she’d never leave with me, but won’t stand by as someone threatens her friend.

  The girls in the back of the room are pushed aside when Mr. Hodge bursts into the small space. The moment he enters the arena, the floodgates burst. I don’t know how exactly it happens, but it goes something like this:

  Mr. Hodge bumps Lotion Face in the back.

  Lotion Face collides with Poppet.

  Poppet shoves her backward.

  Lotion Face makes a fist.

  And the room erupts into civil war. I’m taken to the ground, my head slamming into the hardwood floor. Someone is on top of me—Ruby, I think—and she’s clawing at my face. I remain calm even though Wilson is bouncing around up there. Instead of defending myself, I let her tear her nails down my cheeks. Then I wait for an opening.

  There.

  I throw a tight blow to her nose. It snaps and blood gushes out. Her hands fly to her face, and I push her off me with everything I have. Now she’s on the floor, and I’m the one scaling this mountain. I’m on her chest for two seconds, enough time to hit her once more in her ribs, before two girls are pulling me off.

  The Neck is yelling and trying to hold a Daisy off Poppet, but Poppet is doing just fine on her own until a second girl hits her from behind. Now Mr. Hodge is standing between the three girls—two trying to clobber the third—and I’m left to defend myself against three Daisies.

  Wilson positions himself firmly in my mind, whispers sweet nothings.

  You don’t want to know the things he says.

  Or maybe you do.

  Get the lamp, he says. Smash it over her head.

  What does that cord go to? Let’s wrap it around her neck.

  There’s a pillow on your bed. I know exactly what we could do with that.

  I try to drown him out and do what I do best when luck has turned its back. I curl into a ball and cover my head, wait while the Daisies get their licks in.

  Get up! Wilson yells. Get up! Get that blanket from your bed. Tie a noose with it. Where are those high heels you wore last night? They’d make a fine blade.

  I ignore him.

  Domino Ray, do something. Do something or I will!

  Nothing.

  I said, DO SOMETHING!

  My hands fly out without my permission. I grab hold of a Daisy’s ankle mid-kick and yank on it. She’s ripped from her feet and lands on her back. I spring on top of her like a chimp. My fingers find my dresser drawer and I rip it open, dive my hand in, pull out a fork. It appears like magic.

  Abracadabra.

  The girl beneath me stops fighting, and her eyes enlarge. Her mouth forms a black circle of surprise, and it seems to me the best place to sink this fork.

  But I can’t stop staring at the weapon in my hand.

  How did it get there?

  When did I nip this from the kitchen?

  Shhh, Wilson coos. Go to sleep, sweet Domino Ray.

  I raise the fork, my arm shaking, and bring it down.

  I’m an inch from driving it into the Daisy’s mouth—open wide!—when strong hands pull me from the girl. I’m no sooner on my feet than another girl is lunging at me. But a wall separates us.

  Cain.

  I know him by the look of his back alone.

  That can’t be healthy.

  Each time someone grabs for me, each time a girl tries to get in one last shot, he blocks their advance. He doesn’t lay his hands on anyone. Just stands there, making it clear whose side he’s on.

  Mr. Hodge drags Ruby from the room and yells for her to calm down her girls. Ruby shakes her head like a skipping record. But finally she relents and calls for the Daisies to get out of there. They don’t listen until she stomps in and pulls two girls out by the elbow.

  Though Daisies are still screaming profanities, and Poppet is acting like she might instigate another round, things begin to calm. As for me, I’m shaking. Not my whole body, just my left side. I can’t stop thinking about that fork.

  About what Wilson almost had me do.

  I can’t stay in this place much longer. It’s not so much about my safety, but the other girls. At the same time, I need more cash before I take off. If I leave with what little I have, I’ll end up in the same situation: depending on others, surviving day to day, forming rocky relationships that won’t stick.

  I need a place of my own.

  I need money.

  The Neck shoves his face inside and roars for us to stay in this room and not come out. He starts to close the door, but I grab the edge.

  “I want to see Madam Karina,” I bark, delirious.

  He screws his face up like I’m mad. “Out of the question.”

  “She’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I could bring her up,” Cain suggests. “If the madam seems upset, I’ll take her away.”

  Mr. Hodge looks back and forth between the two of us for a long time before glaring at Cain. “She’s not going to be happy with you.”

  “Domino, don’t leave me,” Poppet squeaks.

  I turn and look at my friend, at her torn shirt and disheveled hair. She has a purple bruise blooming under her right eye. In any other scenario, I’d tell her it looks wicked cool. But this isn’t another scenario, so I launch myself around her in an embrace and then look Poppet squarely in those red-rimmed eyeballs.

  “I will never leave you,” I say. “Not me. No way, no how.”

  Mr. Hodge groans. “This is all very touching.”

  “Let us see Madam Karina.” I glare at Mr. Hodge, make him fidget from my silence.

  He rolls his eyes upward and waves toward Cain. “Take ’em up there. Better you than me.” Mr. Hodge casts a stern look in my direction. “If I hear about you giving her any trouble…”

  “You won’t.”

  Cain touches my arm. “Come on.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Boiler Room

  Madam Karina isn’t asleep when we reach her room. She’s seated in a wingback chair, one leg slung over the arm. Velvet curtains framing a tall window are thrown aside, and she’s looking out across her property, eyes glued on the guesthouses. She doesn’t even turn in our direction when Cain clears his throat and announces our presence.

  She waves a hand toward the door, telling him to leave. He looks at me, and I nod. The door closes behind us, and then it’s just Poppet, Madam Karina, and me. She scratches the side of her neck and I notice her middle fingernail is broken. The other four are pink as newborn mice.

  “Heard the scuffle,” she says. “Even from up here.”

  I step forward. “Madam Karina, I’d like to make a request.”

  She finally turns toward me, and my breath catches. She’s been crying.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  Her forehead furrows. “What do you mean?”

  I shake my head, realizing she doesn’t want to talk about it. “Nothing. It’s just that you’re awake so late.”

  “Well, yes, you woke me.”

  I reap some courage and open my mouth. “I’d like to ask for the same favor you paid me before. I’d like permission to move to the third floor if Poppet and I can maintain the first and second place among the Daisies for one week.”

  “Why?”

  Poppet speaks up. “Because we want to make you happy.”

  Madam Karina doesn’t look at her. “Is
that true, Domino? You want to make me happy?” Before I can answer, she says, “Why is it that Lola favors you so?”

  “What?” I say, confused.

  Madam Karina stands from the chair. Her shoulders slump and she appears thinner than she did only days ago. The woman points a frail arm in my direction. “Lola speaks on your behalf every time we meet. Did you pay her some favor?”

  “No, we’ve only talked once.”

  Madam Karina flinches as if struck. She holds up a finger and mouths the word once as if asking a question. It’s then that I understand the madam has been drinking. A burning sweetness reaches my nose, and I locate the tumbler on her nightstand. “It may be that she wants to leave me.”

  “I doubt that’s true.” I have no idea what Lola wants, but right now I’ll say whatever the madam wants to hear, because I need her to grant Poppet and me this favor. No more chances elsewhere. No more fresh starts. We leave this place with enough cash in hand to survive on our own. That’s how this story ends.

  Madam Karina spins away. “Could be you’re trying to leave me, too.”

  Her voice causes the hair on the back of my neck to rise. I sense Poppet moving closer to me. Outside Madam Karina’s window, I hear a girl giggling. A man’s voice chases hers.

  “I want only what’s best for you, Domino,” she says.

  The lie slithers from her mouth, sucking on the two of us like plump, slippery leeches.

  “I don’t want to leave,” I whisper, returning the courtesy she’s paid me. “Poppet and I just want to make you happy. Why should Lola get all that alone time with you, when no one wants it the way Poppet and I do?”

  “Is that what you told her? That you wanted her place?”

  “I said what I said.”

  Madam Karina covers her mouth like she’s overcome with relief. She closes the distance between us, lets her hand fall to her side. Poppet stands behind me like a forgotten plaything. I want to reach out for her, but Madam Karina is looking at me with such intensity that I’m hypnotized, a pocket watch swishing back and forth before my eyes.

  Count backward from ten.

  “My sister thought she was so successful when she opened that home in Detroit,” the madam says. “Left me here in Pox like I didn’t mean a thing. Said she was doing me a favor giving this place to me, though Mama and Daddy left it to her. Still, I’m getting my revenge. Girl by girl. Eric finds the best ones before she can, most of them from my sister’s own city.”