Violet Grenade

by Victoria Scott

  The part where he says I owe him.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Property

  Near the bottom of the stairs, I hear the muffled sounds of people whispering.

  Ignore them, I think to myself. Find Cain.

  But as the voices grow louder, curiosity gets the better of me. I edge closer, keeping myself hidden. It isn’t until I’m outside the foyer that I recognize the voices of Madam Karina and Candy, the Carnation that Poppet and I roomed with. The madam is scolding her for something, but I can’t make out what.

  I take another step, and the board beneath my foot creaks.

  They stop speaking.

  Madam Karina rounds the corner and spots me. She grabs my arm and drags me into the foyer. “What are you doing? Spying on us? That’s very rude.” Her breath smells the way it did the night she pushed me into Poppet. “Tell me what you heard.”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” I reply.

  Candy sighs. “I’m going to bed. He’s not coming back.”

  Madam Karina swings around and points at Candy. “Don’t take another step. You tell me where he is.”

  “I already told you what I know.” Candy throws up her arms. “He left a few minutes after the party started.”

  “What direction did he go?” the madam presses, growing hysterical.

  She’s asking about Mr. Hodge, I’m sure. I remember how upset she was when he was on his phone, his attention stolen from her.

  Candy appears exhausted, like she’s been going in circles with Madam Karina far too long. The white flower on her blouse hangs limply, and her clothing is disheveled. She was one of the few Carnations who was civil toward me, so I decide to help her out.

  “Maybe we could try walking down the road to see if he got a flat or something,” I say to Madam Karina. “Candy, you can go back to the entertainment room. I’ll go with her.”

  “Thank God,” Candy mumbles, attempting to bypass the madam. But the madam has other plans. She grabs Candy by the back of the neck and jerks the girl so she faces her.

  “Don’t you walk away from me,” Madam Karina snaps, “You ungrateful brat.”

  Candy’s face opens with surprise. “Madam Karina, I’m sorry. I just thought…”

  “You thought what? That you could watch Mr. Hodge leaving to see her and not say anything? Is that it?”

  “Madam Karina, I can help.” My words are gentle even as my heart shotguns. “Let me take you up to your room.” I inch toward Candy so that I’m standing between the two, using my hundred-pound frame as a laughable barrier.

  The madam cackles. “Oh, here’s the protector, Candy. Come to save you and anyone else I might upset.”

  “It’s not like that,” I whisper.

  It’s exactly like that, Wilson says.

  Candy hesitates for several beats and then dashes toward the Carnations’ entertainment room. Madam Karina turns to watch Candy flee, and releases a long sigh.

  “Did you want to walk down the road and see—?”

  Madam Karina wheels around and slaps me across the face using every ounce of her shrunken frame. I’m knocked to the ground and before I can think, she lunges at me, her knees pinned on either side of my chest. She wraps her hands around my throat and squeezes. As my breathing is cut off and the world grows fuzzy and dim, I fumble at her fingers. Head pounding. Mouth gaping. Legs kicking. Wilson roaring.

  The madam releases her hold quickly enough, but I still suck in every bit of oxygen the room holds and fight to sit up. Madam Karina shoves me backward and leans her old Hollywood face down until our lips are an inch apart. “My dear child, I don’t think you understand your place in this house, so allow me to clarify. You are not my partner. You are not the girls’ ambassador. Perhaps one day, you will become Top Girl and sit at my right hand and come to judge the quick and the dead.”

  She kisses me once, swift, on the mouth as I gasp. “Until then, you are my property.” She rises to her feet and steps backward, allowing me room to rise, though I don’t. I can’t. “Always and forever, Domino Ray, you are mine to have and to hold.”

  Madam Karina turns and quits the room in a flurry of silk fabrics and graying tendrils unraveling from her bun.

  I lay on the ground, my hands protective around my aching throat, my lip quivering because, as much as I saw the warning signs, I’d hoped Madam Karina wouldn’t hurt me. Not when it came down to it. Not even after Angie warned me. Not when the madam seemed to think of me as her found pet—the girl who convinced her to try again.

  But she did hurt me.

  She is my mother incarnate. Whispering lullabies in my ear and then digging in the knife once my guard has fallen away. She even wants the same things from me that my mother did. That’s what Wilson meant when he said we shouldn’t be here.

  All at once, my vines of suspicion for this place, for this woman, weave into a thorny beanstalk springing toward the sky. I have to get out. I have to leave as soon as possible, and I have to get Poppet out, too. I don’t know what’s happened between Madam Karina and Mr. Hodge, but it’s pushed a volatile woman over the edge. And I won’t be here when she lands at the bottom of that quarry, bloodied and vengeful.

  I have to escape Madam Karina’s Home for Burgeoning Entertainers, with or without the money I’ve earned.

  We can’t leave here without that money, Wilson says evenly.

  We can, Wilson, and we will. I didn’t think I could start over empty-handed, but I’ve done it before. I just need to get away from that woman. That’s all.

  We won’t leave here without that money, Wilson repeats, a nerve-rattling edge to his voice. And Domino?

  I remain silent, knowing it’s what he wants.

  Wilson’s chest heaves, his wickedly sharp face flashing in my mind as only it does when he grows truly and wholly close to taking over. That’s the last time someone lays a hand on you, he continues, his eyes storming, voice solid as a casket. Next time it happens, Papa comes to play.

  PART IV

  DOMINO’S RULES

  FOR PLANNING A PRISON BREAK

  Keep your eyes open.

  Destroy the warden’s resources.

  Understand your allies’ strengths.

  Use the element of surprise to escape.

  If all else fails, let Wilson out of his cage.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  What I Did

  It’s Saturday. The day my mother brought the first one home.

  His name is Tom.

  He doesn’t have a last name, my mother tells me when he’s out of earshot. He is only Tom, and I should think of him that way. The man sits on our couch, adjusting himself, craning his neck to see where my mother went. He’s in his mid-fifties, the indention from an absent wedding band on his left finger. I can almost feel the weight of the ring hidden in his pocket. He has thinning hair and a small belly. A bright green shirt hangs loosely on his otherwise wiry frame, and I can smell the scent of cigarettes on him from here.

  “I met him at Roosevelt’s,” my mother explains in hushed tones.

  Roosevelt’s. A bar clear across town she showed me last weekend. I remember the cars in the parking lot, the cracked red leather booths and dim lighting hardly visible through the dusty windows. Cartoon writing spelled out the name of the bar, but the middle E was smudged so badly that it looked more like Roos velt’s.

  “He told me I was the kind of girl he could really fall for,” she scoffs. “And as we drove here, he said he wanted a family. To marry a nice woman. As if I don’t know he’s already married.” My mom takes my chin in her hand. “They’re all the same, Domino. They will all do to me and you what Dad did to us.”

  “Why can’t we just try to find Dad?” It’s a question I’ve asked a dozen times.

  “I tried,” Mom hisses. “You helped me look for him. He’s gone. He doesn’t want to be found.” She straightens, smooths her hair. “So we’ll improvise. Save other women from experiencing what we did. Better for men like these to va
nish in the night than to walk out on their families.”

  I hate what my mother is saying. Her words crawl over my skin, and my heart beats faster when she sets her gaze on the man, Tom. I want to scream for him to leave. I want to call the police. I want to hit my mother and tell her she’s crazy and I won’t do it. I won’t do this horrible thing.

  But then she takes me into her arms. She tells me I am her perfect, beautiful daughter. She tells me she will never leave me, and that we have only each other, forever. And finally, she says the thing that causes my resolve to crumble.

  “Who would you have if not for me?” Her words are warm against my ear, her embrace comforting. “Where would you go?”

  When she tells me to get our tools, I do.

  And when she tells me to open the basement door, I do.

  And when she shows me the best ways to cut a person so that they suffer longer, I do these things and more. I am her daughter. I am her good girl. But I cannot stay as this man bleeds and begs for his life. I cannot be present as we bury his body in the freshly churned earth; the same place where, one day, concrete will be poured for a brand new Bank of America. I cannot stand by as Mother brings another man to our home. And another. And another.

  I cannot do these things.

  But Wilson can.

  It was a Saturday the first time Mother brought one home.

  I was twelve years old.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  I Know Why the

  Caged Bird Sings

  I wake in a cold sweat and realize someone has been saying my name.

  Domino…

  Turning over in bed, my face bathed in moonlight, I focus on the voice.

  Domino, wake up.

  When I realize who it is, I pull the covers over my head and groan. Leave me alone, Wilson.

  He moves in closer. Why were you thinking about those things? Those things that happened with Mother?

  I can’t help it. It’s like she’s dragging it out of me.

  Madam Karina?

  I don’t respond.

  Wilson does something he’s never done before. He lays his hand on my forehead. I close my eyes against his touch as he moves his palm over my hair slowly, shushing me. It’s almost like if I peek, he’ll be standing there, flesh and blood.

  But when I do open my eyes, it’s my own hand that’s petting my hair. I rip my arm down and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Poppet is asleep across from me. Watching her, I’m struck by loneliness. It’s been so long since we stayed up late and whispered secrets and wishes for our future and, sometimes, recounted memories from our past.

  Pulling on a pair of jeans, I head toward Cain’s place in the basement. I find him awake on the foot of his mattress. When he sees me, he opens the cage door without hesitation and takes me into his arms. It’s a quick hug, like he did it without thinking. And before I know it, he’s put distance between us again.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “No. I know where Ellie is. Or at least, I think I do.”

  Cain raises an eyebrow.

  “Want to take a drive?”

  He opens his mouth to answer, and then his brow furrows. He takes my chin in his hand and turns my face to the left, examines my cheek, my neck. “What happened here?”

  I pull away. “Nothing.”

  “Domino, tell me.” His voice is urgent, furious.

  “Madam Karina slapped me. She was drunk.” I don’t tell him the rest. It’s right there for him to see. Cain starts to respond, but I continue. “I have to get out of here. That was my plan for a while, to earn enough to get a place and buy myself time to find a job. But I can’t wait any longer. She’s cracking, Cain. Mr. Hodge is making her crazy, and she’s freaking out about losing anyone else.”

  Cain stares at my skin like he can will the bruises away. From between clenched teeth, he says, “She’s always been like that. Afraid that people will run out on her.”

  “Will you take me into Pox?”

  He hesitates for a beat as if he’s weighing the old Cain, who would never risk upsetting Madam Karina, against the new Cain, who cares enough about someone else to come out of hiding. In the end, he pulls on black combat boots and motions for me to head up first.

  Outside, the phantom vehicle waits for us, patient as death. It’s a stroke of luck that the car hasn’t been returned. Cain starts to get in the driver’s seat, but I beat him to the punch and take the keys from his hand.

  “You know how to drive?” he asks in a whisper.

  I nod. It’s been a while, but my mom taught me before I left home. Slipping behind the wheel, my senses spark alive. It feels like I’ve been asleep, and only now have I thought to wake up and see the world for what it is.

  I take the car out onto the road slowly and drive a short distance before accelerating. Glancing back in the rearview, I assure myself no new lights have flipped on.

  It doesn’t take long to arrive in Pox’s town square, and never once does Cain question what we’re doing. Once, briefly, he looks over and stares at me in the dark. But that’s it. I navigate down the roads until I find what I’m looking for. The same place we passed on the way to get ice cream.

  Pox County Municipal

  A town this size probably doesn’t have a separate police station, so I park outside the two-story brick building and kill the ignition. A single light buzzes over the glass door, and moths throw themselves against the intoxicating light.

  I get out of the car, and Cain follows me without a word. My palms begin to sweat when we step inside because, in my eagerness, I never thought through how we’d enter the jail area without being questioned. But the woman behind the counter is painting her nails a bubblegum shade of pink to match the teddy bears on her sweater. She hardly glances up as we pass by.

  “The jail cells?” Cain asks me under his breath when we’re a safe distance away.

  “Yeah, do you know where they are?”

  He waves me along. “Follow me.”

  We stride down linoleum hallways scuffed black, and Cain pauses outside a heavy door that reads Police in an arch across a glass window insert. Cain peers through and holds a finger to his lips. The we crouch to the floor, and he brings his mouth to my ear. I shiver from the unexpected touch. “There’s an officer on duty. He’ll go in the back at some point.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’ve delivered stuff to Eric before, and they rarely keep anyone up front at night. Too little happens around here.”

  Just as Cain predicted, the deputy sitting behind the front desk eventually moves to a door on his left and exits. We wait five minutes to ensure he’s gone to the lounge and isn’t returning. Then we go inside. Cain pushes a button beneath the desk and the door on the opposite side clicks.

  I grab the handle and smile when it opens.

  “I’ve always wanted to push that button,” Cain says with a sly grin.

  I head down the narrow hall, jail cells lining the right side. They’re the old-school kind with actual bars and rusting toilets and steel benches that serve as beds. Not sure what else to do, I quietly call out her name.

  “Ellie? Are you here?”

  When no one responds, I tiptoe past the first cell that lays empty and move to the next, but there’s no one here. I was wrong. I figured, with Eric’s involvement, that if Ellie were being held anywhere, it’d be here. I look at Cain and shrug, shaking my head. He lays a soft hand on my upper back, ready to guide us out, when the air kicks on. The breeze rushes out through floor vents, and a soft thump sounds from behind us.

  I turn on my heels, narrow my eyes. And though I’m staring right at it, it’s Cain that really sees it first.

  He strides over, surprisingly quiet on his feet, and spiders his fingers along the hardwood floor. Near the grated air return, his hand finds purchase. He lifts a flap in the floor and glances at me, his features twisted with concern.

  I dash toward him but, when I make
for the descending stairs, he blocks my path, holds up a wait hand. We listen, and then Cain takes the stairs before me.

  Uh, we totally could have gone first, Wilson says.

  Below the floor of the jail cell is a buzzing light, concrete floors, and second set of jail cells. I swallow, my throat thick. When I spot a thin girl lying on the bench, her back to me, I’m sickened but not surprised. I steal a glance at Cain, wet my lips, and say, “Are you Ellie?”

  There’s a long pause that wraps around my throat. Finally, the girl says, “What does she want now?”

  My stomach touches my feet, and the wind is ripped from my lungs. It’s her. This is Ellie, and Madam Karina put her here, and maybe I’ve known all along but was too afraid to admit it. Most girls leave and become like Angie, forever toiling for their master until they are one day, maybe, released from servitude. But Ellie tried to escape. And now she is here.

  “How long have you been here?” I ask, choking on panic.

  Ellie turns and faces us. When I see her, I have to look away. Cain brushes my arm, but I recoil from his touch. It’s too much to be comforted when she’s the one who needs help.

  Her face is shallow and bruised, and her skin has a sickly pallor. A light sweat coats her upper lip and forehead, and blood cakes her bottom lip. “As long as I deserve. And I’ll serve the remainder of my time and debt to Madam Karina with gratitude. Being here has given me time to reflect on my mistakes.”

  My entire body goes numb when I understand why Ellie is talking this way. She’s consumed by fear. “We’re on your side. You don’t have to be scared.”

  She stands up, greasy brown hair falling over her left eye. Her body shakes from the exertion, and bile rises in my throat. “I love Madam Karina,” she insists, shuffling toward me. “I wish only to return to her home and make her happy for the rest of my days. I was wrong. Can you tell her I was wrong?”

  “Screw this.” Cain spins on his heel and searches the space, no doubt looking for a way to open her cell.

  “It’s no use,” a new voice says from farther down. A girl’s arm appears from between the bars of the next cell. It’s gut-wrenchingly thin, with blue veins rising to the surface like earthworms in the rain. “She won’t tell you anything useful. But I will.”