Violet Grenade

by Victoria Scott

  She’s right. The biggest obstacle isn’t how to rescue the incarcerated girls, because we can convince authorities in another town to come for them, and for the girls still in this house, too. Surely they’ll be interested in what goes on in this place, and that several of the madam’s girls are underage. It’ll take longer than I’d like to save those girls in the jail cells, but we can do it. I’ll make the police listen. And I feel sure I can collect the money I need for gas and any necessities we’ll need to run fast and far.

  But how will we escape Pox and remain untraceable?

  I think of Madam Karina’s borrowed vehicles that sit shiny and promising in the front drive. I’d bet my right arm that most of the girls before me attempted that route. Cars can be reported stolen, and if they’re rentals, surely the owner has a way to track their whereabouts.

  Some girls may have fled on foot. But how far could you get before being found? I think of those two women in the ice cream shop. How wary they seemed of Madam Karina. It’d be difficult to escape Pox on foot with all those loyal eyes keeping watch.

  So how will we do it?

  How will we be the three people who manage to escape, to get help, and to stay out of Madam Karina’s clutches?

  It isn’t until late in the night, as the promise of sleep stalks forward, that the solution comes to me.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  The Fear Beneath His Heel

  Night falls before I find the courage to leave the main house. I’m eager to escape Madam Karina’s clutches, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to make the sacrifices it’ll take. Poppet is quiet as I fasten the same bra I’ve worn and washed over the last several weeks. The same one that came with me from Detroit.

  Poppet walks over to me silently with something clutched in her hand. As I watch her in the vanity mirror, she unfolds the blouse—black with a plunging neckline. I stand silently, and she slips it over my head. Together, we inspect my slight figure. I have a small chest, and hips that would insult a real woman, but this sinful number still screams seductive.

  My scalp tingles with anxiety as Poppet hands me her makeup bag. I withdraw what I need and lay it out on the counter, draw in a breath before I begin working. It takes me a full half hour to complete my masterpiece. When I’m done, I cross the room to the middle dresser drawer. An old, familiar chemical-laden scent touches my nose, and when I close my hand over my treasure, a shiver works its way down my torso.

  Hello, old friend.

  I withdraw the hot pink wig and clutch it to my stomach. It’s the last one I bought from Greg’s shop, and the memories of being there in that store, with the fragile safety it brought me, are almost too much to bear.

  I wonder how Greg is now. His shop is gone. But he’s sharing a place with his boyfriend. Maybe he traded one dream for another. Sometimes, I let myself believe there’s room in his life for me. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from living in this warped house, it’s that I must depend on myself first and foremost. It’s okay to let others help. But it’s time for me to stand on my own two feet, however unstable that may feel.

  With careful fingers, I slide the wig onto my head. When I flip back the tresses, Poppet’s gaze lands on me with a weight I want. She needs me. Not the other way around, though I do want her in my life. But this time, I am the one who must do for another. I am not a girl awaiting Dizzy’s arrival home.

  Tonight I am someone else’s hope.

  It feels good.

  “I won’t let you down,” I tell Poppet. “Give me three days, and we’ll be out of here. Maybe sooner.”

  “Cain, too, right?” she says, wringing her hands.

  “Cain, too.”

  “I could do this, you know,” Poppet says in a rush. “I could earn the money the same way you’re thinking.”

  “No,” I snap. Then, realizing how harshly that came out, I let my face fall. “No, it needs to be me. I have a customer I can ask.”

  “Jack,” Poppet says.

  I nod. “And I’ll be in the guesthouses where more money is spent. And more…activities are allowed. The Tulips would never let you get away with doing anything more than first base stuff.” I gaze out the window to where the west guesthouse lays waiting. Only a shack, really.

  Poppet throws herself into my arms. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” I pull back so she can see my face. “Don’t take any crap from the Tulips, understand? If it gets too bad, you find me. Promise.”

  She hugs me again. “I promise.”

  I let go of her before I lose the nerve, and stride out of the room and toward the staircase. I leave my other wigs behind. I only need the one now. My freshest, hottest baby. Something to remind me I am Domino Ray, and I can handle anything.

  What is it you’re planning to do, Domino? Wilson asks as I descend the stairs.

  I almost laugh. Look who’s avoiding the truth now.

  Wilson pretends to be hurt, presses himself into the corner of my mind and pouts. I push open the back kitchen door and glide through it, spotting the black demon car and Eric’s gold sedan in the drive. I pray the officer Cain beat up hasn’t ratted us out, but if he has, there’s nothing I can do about it now.

  Behind me, I can hear the sounds of house girls readying themselves for a night of customers and bronze coins.

  I am not one of them anymore.

  I am this.

  I tear the tulip from my chest and throw it to the ground. The sky presses down on me as I walk, and I press back. Tilting up my chin, I set my gaze on the west house, on the shutters and miniature porch. The house can’t consist of more than three bedrooms and one bathroom. I doubt there’s a full kitchen, or a dining room, or any more privacy than what’s afforded in the main house.

  But as a Lily, I’d be awarded safety from Mr. Hodge’s constant pressure to earn more, perform better, make the customers happier. And Madam Karina wouldn’t be able to keep quite as close an eye on me, either. And there’s more money to earn, and a place that must feel secure.

  And, of course, status.

  I have practically talked myself into thinking this won’t be so bad. Until I leave, the days will be improved. And the nights…the nights I will turn to Wilson for comfort as I earn a fistful of cash that Poppet, Cain, and I need to start again. It’s true I’ve never slept with anyone. And when this is all over, I won’t count this as my first time. If I ever have a true first time, it will be with someone I feel safe with. Someone I trust. He will go slow and tell me he loves me and I will love him back.

  I will love him back.

  “Domino.”

  His voice is as sharp as it is deep. He moves toward me with caution, as if I’m an animal he’s afraid will flee.

  Cain opens his hands. “Don’t do this.”

  Three words, and already my confidence falters.

  “We can leave without the money,” he says.

  “We won’t get far enough.”

  “I’ll steal it.”

  “It’d be harder than you think.”

  Cain shakes his head. “There’s another way. You know there is.”

  “Nothing will get us out of here faster than this,” I say.

  Cain’s words come slower, softer. “Don’t go in there. Don’t become one of her girls.”

  I touch a hand to my wig. “I am not hers.”

  “If you go in there, you will be. Regardless of what else happens, of whether we escape her, she will always know she made you do this.”

  “And I will know I did whatever it took to save my friends.”

  Cain takes two powerful strides toward me. “I am not your friend, Domino.”

  When I see the hungry, desperate look in his eyes, my knees grow weak. Not this. Anything but this. I have to be strong right now, but I can’t be if he keeps looking at me that way. When his hand rises to my cheek, my breath comes out in a shudder.

  “I want to be the one who saves you,” he says, his face so close to mine.

  I
close my eyes against the feel of his fingers brushing over my face, my neck, my collarbone. “Once we leave here, you can save me. But let me do this one thing first.”

  “I can’t stand by and let this happen.”

  When I open my eyes, my gaze falls on his mouth. On full, pink lips. His hands wrap around my face and my every fear, my every nightmare, crumbles beneath his heel. There is only Cain now. Only this mountain of a boy who refuses to budge. A boy who is more like a man than any I’ve met.

  “I’m falling for you,” he whispers. “If something happens to you, it’ll destroy me.”

  His lips crash into mine.

  My body reacts instantly. My arms twine around his neck, and he tugs me against him. And there, in the space between the main house and the smaller one where I’ll earn our escape, Cain kisses me. I kiss him back, too. Because that question he asked me in the car. About whether I saw the two of us being different—and better—together, has haunted me. I know the answer.

  Yes.

  From the moment I saw his two-layered eyes outside that alley. From the moment I recognized his pain as a worthy contender against my own, I wanted him. He knows my darkest secret, and yet he holds me in his arms, his lips moving against mine tenderly.

  His fingers clutch my back, rising until they reach beneath my pink wig and slide into my own hair. Chills rush over my skin, wave after wave, as the stars plummet to the earth. I feel small in his arms, breakable. It’s a welcomed difference to the explosiveness I’ve felt with others. As if I were a moment away from taking their lives.

  Cain moves his lips from mine and trails a line of warm, delicious kisses down my throat. Then he lifts his mouth to my ear and says, “Stay with me.”

  But now, more than ever, after I’ve admitted to myself how I feel about this boy, I know I must go.

  “Give me three days,” I say, my head against his chest. “And then I will stay with you. As long as you want me.”

  “Forever,” he answers suddenly. “It’s too soon to say that, I know. But right now, I can’t imagine a time when I won’t want you.”

  I push away from him, knowing if I don’t go now, I won’t be able to. “When you put it that way, then three days is nothing.” I force a smile and lay a hand on his chest, grip his shirt in my hand. Then I let go and turn toward the Lilies’ house.

  He says my name three more times as I walk away, each more urgent than the last. But I don’t look back.

  Do you prefer him over me? Wilson asks quietly.

  Don’t start, Wilson. Don’t ruin this moment for me.

  Wilson licks his lips, thinking. I like him, you know. I just don’t want to be replaced. He can’t carry your pain the way I can.

  Maybe he could.

  Wilson flinches like I’ve wounded him deeply. He crawls away, cowering.

  I don’t hear from him again that night.

  It bothers me more than I care to admit. For all my talk of being frightened of Wilson’s presence and what it means, it scares me far worse to imagine him gone.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  West House

  I knock on the Lilies’ door several times before letting myself in. A girl with spiky black hair laughs when I step inside.

  “I wondered when you’d decide to open that door,” she says. “Did you think we had a butler or something?”

  Another Lily rounds the corner and enters the cramped living room. “You’re the new girl, right? Course you are. A few rules before Madam Karina comes to mark our hands. First, you don’t have a room. You’ll have to sleep out here. You can fight Bridget for the couch.” She motions to the girl with black hair. “But most likely you’ll end up on the floor. Second, if you need to use one of the bedrooms while a customer is here, tell me in advance.”

  “How far in advance?” I ask.

  “As far as you can.”

  “I’m going to need a bedroom tonight,” I say.

  Both girls gawk at me. The one with the punk hair grins and says, “Gotta admire her confidence.”

  The girl who’s laying out the rules crosses her arms. I take in her features—high forehead, cheeks that hint at rosacea, and an underbite that’s almost endearing. Her wrists are thin and her ankles thick, and the lazy way she speaks tells me she’s been a Lily for a while. And that most likely, she is Point Girl here.

  “My name is Marie,” she says. And then, as if these two facts go together, “Keep the customers happy however you’d like, but if you were a virgin when you walked in that door, you’ll be one when you walk out.”

  “No pokey, pokey,” Punk Girl adds, giggling.

  Marie rolls her eyes and acts as if she’s annoyed. As for me, I’m reeling from their forthrightness. I expected more behind-closed-doors shenanigans. Like, maybe if I wanted to do more than kiss Jack, I’d have to keep my mouth shut and keep up appearances.

  Marie rears back and screams over her shoulder for the other girls to get their butts moving. Then she points at me. “Not sure why you’re showing up late, but tomorrow you’ll have double duty. We have to keep our place clean and the Violets’, so don’t plan on occupying that room too long.”

  With that, she turns and leaves the room. I’m stuck taking in my surroundings as Punk Girl studies me. The living area has a floral couch, wood paneling, worn carpet with vacuum lines, and a fireplace that looks as if it hasn’t been used in years. Sporadic gold lamps, books, and stock paintings give the place a middle-class homey feel. The home is grossly outdated, but clean.

  “You have a regular who you think will follow you here?” Punk Girl asks.

  “Yeah,” I answer, thankful for the conversation.

  She clucks her tongue. “You’ll have to start seeing the doctor.”

  I’m about to ask a question, but before I can voice it, the front door swings open. Madam Karina steps inside, and Punk Girl yells for Marie. Seconds later, Marie emerges with three other girls in tow. With me, we make six Lilies.

  We line up and Madam Karina marks our hands with her black magic marker. When she gets to me, she smiles, excitement rolling off her. I flinch when she wraps me in a hug and says, “You’re almost there, Domino. But this is where you will be tested. Are you ready?”

  My throat clenches, but I manage a nod.

  “Good,” she says, before letting herself out.

  Marie claps her hands twice, and the girls spring into action. The lights dim, and music plays softly, and the room holds its breath. Less than five minutes later, customers stream in. One by one, three girls take customers by the hand and disappear into the back. Marie chats with a girl her age who looks like she could buy the town of Pox. They’re thigh to thigh on the couch, the girl’s hand on Marie’s inner thigh.

  Try as I might to play it cool, I’m still surprised when they kiss, the gesture more emotional than physical. Marie must sense me watching, because she breaks the kiss and glares at me. “You have ten minutes before your room goes to someone else. And don’t forget you’ll owe Madam Karina a fee for using it.”

  Did she mention that? I don’t remember. My eyes fall on the coin box attached to the wall and wonder what happens if I rent the room and my customer still awards his coin to someone else. It doesn’t matter, I decide. That balance sheet is dead to me. Pleasure washes through me when I realize that, already, Madam Karina is losing her hold on me.

  It’s another fifteen minutes before Jack arrives, his face both hopeful and wary. He wears a brown corduroy blazer, though it’s hot out, and beneath that, a white shirt. His face is clean-shaven and his blond hair slicked back. He looks older in this light, older than the early-to-mid-twenties I’d pegged him at.

  I swallow my fear, my hesitation, my pride. Remember why I’m doing this.

  Cain.

  Poppet.

  The girls in those cells.

  And secretly, a place of my own. If he gives me enough, maybe it will cover first month’s rent somewhere.

  I don’t owe him anything. But I will do t
his for me.

  I adjust my hot pink wig and strut toward Jack. I’ve never felt like a real woman. Never fancied myself a seductress. But with this music playing, inside this house of sin, I allow myself to become someone else. A vixen who always gets what she wants.

  And what I want, I tell myself, is Jack.

  He sees me coming, and anger flitters across his face. After all, the last time I saw him my knee greeted his groin. But he’s here, and I know it’s me he’s looking for. So I play this hand like a World Series poker champion, the winning card stiff in my palm.

  “Jack,” I breathe, curling myself around him.

  He grabs me by the arms and pushes me back, not ready to forgive me. “I don’t know what you think. But I didn’t come for you.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” I pout. “Because I came for you.”

  He eyes me warily, shoves his hands in his pockets.

  “Want to go in the back?”

  His eyes travel to the narrow hall that leads away from the living area. “The guy at the front, Mr. Hodge, said a girl would have to reserve a room or something. You wouldn’t have done that.”

  “But I did,” I say, brushing my fingertips over his chest. Over the same place I touched Cain minutes earlier. “I had to think of a way to make you forgive me. Because even though I was nervous before, I can’t stop thinking about the night you kissed me.”

  “And?” he says, taking the bait.

  “And I want more.”

  He grins, but glances away, his gaze landing on the two interlocked girls on the couch. “Maybe I want to explore my options.”

  Marie takes that exact moment to glare at me. She’s communicating, again, that I’m running out of time on my room and to give her privacy. Desperate, I snake my arm around Jack’s and bring my lips to his neck. My stomach rolls when my mouth brushes the rough skin there. “Tell you what, I’m going to our room. If you follow me, I’ll make it worth your while.” And then, remembering how he pressed me for details of my life, I lose the act and try to reflect real sadness. “Jack, please. I just want to get to know you better without everyone watching.”

  I turn and go before my face betrays me. Not knowing my way around, I grope the walls along the hallway and find two closed doors. They must be the rooms already taken, I decide. Farther to the left is a small kitchen with a green linoleum floor and yellow cabinets. And across from that is what appears to be a laundry room. Only when I move closer, I see that there’s a twin bed shoved inside. Nothing else occupies the space. No pictures, no lamps, no masquerading. There is only the bed.