Pretty Baby

by Pretty Baby (NCP) (lit)

  The old man looked at him, giving him a sly, scowling, intelligent smile. “You young bastard. I wouldn’t let anyone but you call me that.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The two men were just finishing up their beer when the faint, tinny notes of a music box began playing.

  “What’s that?” Shadoe said, looking around.

  Garret put a thin finger up to his lips. “Shhh,” he whispered, then nodded his head in the direction of the ventilator.

  A voice began speaking, but it was faint and hard to hear.

  “It’s Lucretia,” Garret whispered. “She’s in Julita’s room.”

  Shadoe inclined himself closer and cocked his head to hear better.

  Suddenly Lucretia’s angry voice shattered the silence. “You filthy little whore! He was here, wasn’t he? What did he do? Did he touch you?”

  “No,” Julita sobbed, her voice trembling with fright. “He brought … he brought my m-m-mask.”

  “You mean he saw you without your mask on?” Lucretia shouted, insane fury showing on her face.

  “I left it....”

  “You ugly little monster,” Lucretia snapped, her midnight eyes squinting at her with hate. “You had your mask off outside this room?” Lucretia’s voice dropped to a low, threatening tone. “You will never leave this room again, do you hear? You will diiiiie in this room.” The word came out as a hiss among all the others. “Just like your father in the basement.” Her lips thinned, then viciously coiled. “Who knows? Maybe he’s dead already.”

  “What?” Julita’s usually timid voice was strong as she mounted to her knees. “You told me my father was dead.”

  “Did I? A lie, to keep you in your place.”

  “Then he is down there,” she breathed softly.

  “Yes, he’s down there, but you’ll never get to see him. He’s weak, starving to death. If the bastard won’t eat what I give him, then let him die! He’s been a pain in my butt long enough.”

  Julita felt a sweep of anger such as she’d never known blossom inside her. She remembered Shadoe saying he’d heard something. A voice … a weak voice coming up from the basement. She hadn’t been sure at the time, but it was true … they had heard something. They had heard her father calling out for help. Tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to jump at the witch and scratch her eyes out, but she knew the danger of moving on Lucretia. Instead her enraged violet eyes became pointed, watching every move she made. Lucretia had been the closest thing to a mother Julita had ever known, and now she found she’d been lying to her. What else had she lied to her about? She reached up and touched her face, not feeling the scars Lucretia had convinced her were there. Suddenly she realized her mind was crisp and clear, not muddled by drugs. She could reason, think things out.

  She looked around her room, looking for a mirror. The fear she’d felt was suddenly gone and she wasn’t afraid to see what her face might look like. She wanted to know the truth. Why wouldn’t Lucretia allow mirrors in her room? She couldn’t believe her evil sister would be so kind as to want to spare her the hurt of seeing her ugly face. She knew if there was something horrible to see, Lucretia would quickly push her face into the mirror and gloat on her scars. No. None of it made sense. Maybe that was why Lucretia had stripped her room of mirrors and forced her to wear a mask outside the room. She was afraid Julita would see her face … and know the truth!

  Julita remembered the beatings she’d received through the years. When Lucretia wasn’t hitting her she was twisting her limbs, pulling her hair, and knocking her around. Lucretia’s tyranny left Julita literally beaten down, existing night and day with a fear that to her was a living, breathing thing. An ugly monster she couldn’t see, but could feel everywhere. All the lies had been so deeply inbred into her that they weren’t easy to put aside now that she was grown. In all that time the question of looking into a mirror was foreign to her. Lucretia had said no, so she didn’t. She had thought about it a few times, but would cringe at the prospect, because she knew if she ever saw the face Lucretia described to her, she would never get over it. She felt secure in her mask, and tugged on it many times during the day to make sure it still hid her face. Now that she had found out Lucretia had lied about her father, she knew it was possible that she had lied about so many other things, even her face.

  But it had to end. The lies, the tyranny, the beatings, it all had to end! She wanted to see her face, her father, and she wanted help, help from the stranger. Without him she didn’t know how well she could manage, but she would try. She could hardly believe her father had been imprisoned in the basement all these years. It suddenly dawned on Julita that through the years she had been imprisoned herself. Maybe not physically, but she’d been subject to Lucretia’s insane whims.

  She looked down at herself, her eyes at last open, and for the first time really saw the ridiculous costume Lucretia made her wear. The large, shapeless dress, the binding, the dog ears. She’d never even owned a pair of shoes. She’d been robbed of the chance to grow up as other girls had. To go to school, have boyfriends. Instead Lucretia had imprisoned her in an attic nursery, controlling her with drugs and lies, teaching her only the merest facts to get along.

  She had to be able to read to help out around the inn, so Lucretia taught her. Some of the others had taught her about numbers … how to add, subtract, multiply, but she hadn’t learned any more than that. She listened to some of the others talk about high school and college, and a yearning would fill her. She stole magazines and read them, looked at the pictures. She knew there was so much to learn, to experience, to see, and she wanted to, but knew she never could while she was here … here in Lucretia’s insane world. All at once she picked up her mask and threw it at Lucretia. “I won’t wear it anymore,” she yelled.

  Lucretia looked at Julita with her hellish, midnight eyes that glinted like shards of ice, thinking this was Julita’s latest form of rebellion. “What do I care?” she snapped. “You’ll never leave this room anyway.” She leaned toward Julita. “Do you understand, you filthy piece of trash? You’re going to die!” A small smile tilted Lucretia’s snake lips and a look of wonder filled her eyes as she shifted them and looked away. “And I’ll be free,” she hissed. “It’s time. Yes, it’s time,” she said, looking once again at her sister. “I’ve met someone,” she said, giggling like a schoolgirl. Then cutting her cruel eyes toward Julita, she said words she knew would hurt. “It’s the big, beautiful savage. You know, the one you were so hot to have?” She snickered. “Poor little Julita, he was ony playing with you, don’t you know that? But now he’s made his choice. And it’s me!” She saw what she construed as jealousy on Julita’s face. “Did I tell you I drank wine with him today? Yessss,” she hissed, feeling triumphant over her beautiful sister. “Me. Ugly Lucretia. And the way he looked at me--” she looked away, remembering his eyes, “--oh, so intimate.” She cut her malicious eyes back toward Julita, and they filled up with hate. “It’s time both you and Papa were out of the way. I’ve taken care of you long enough. Now I have my own life to live. At last I’ll be rescued from this--” she lifted her eyes to the rafters, “--this crumbling old inn.” Her eyes drifted down and looked at Julita. She began speaking as if engaging her in a sisterly chat. “He’s from New York, you know. We’ll live there … in the big city. I would invite you to come and visit, but--” she hesitated, furtively sliding her hand into her pocket, “--you’ll be dead!”

  “No!” Julita whimpered, shaking her head in fearful denial as she watched Lucretia’s hand grope around in her pocket.

  “Oh, yes!” Lucretia said, walking toward Julita, the long, glinting hypodermic needle dripping with poison as it pointed toward the ceiling.

  “No!” Julita cried desperately, inching back in the corner of her bed, “No!” When Lucretia kept coming, Julita’s eyes rose to the ceiling, suddenly remembering the ventilator. “Help!” she screamed, desperate. She didn’t know if anyone could hear her, but hoped her voice was being carrie
d through the square hole to someone … somewhere.

  “Be good, now, and take your medicine,” Lucretia said, her voice soft and threatening. She stepped toward Julita, her eyes shining with dementia. “You need a nice, long, nap,” she whispered. “A nice looooong nap,” she emphasized, an eyebrow arching.

  Shadoe heard a sob and looked at Garret. The old man had tears creeping down his thin, wrinkled cheeks. “Julita,” he sobbed, his face in his hands. “My little Julita.” He cast a pleading look at Shadoe. “She’s going to kill her.” He pounded on his legs. “Damn these legs!”

  Suddenly a loud sound brought their eyes back up to the ventilator.

  A rattle of furniture sounded as Julita suddenly jumped off the bed to the other side. Lucretia was between her and the door, but she lifted the cradle, threw it at her, and saw Lucretia fall backward, bump into the vanity, which sent the music box crashing to the floor. This gave her the chance she needed and she quickly skirted around Lucretia while watching her grope for the hypodermic she had dropped. Finally grabbing the doorknob, Julita flung it back, but Lucretia was immediately behind her and slammed it closed. Julita was trapped against the door, looking fearfully at the hypodermic in front of her eyes, poised and ready for penetration. All at once she raised both arms, one knocking the hypodermic to the floor, and the other rapping Lucretia in the chin, causing her to stumble backward.

  When Julita saw Lucretia sprawled on the floor, she flung the door open, lunged through it, and quickly ran down the steps. She didn’t know where to go. The only place she could think of was his room, so she sprinted down the hall. When she found the door, she rapped on it, not with her usual timid knock, but with a pounding of her fist. She knew she didn’t have much time, and rapped again, and again while looking around for the first sign of Lucretia coming for her. But still there was no answer. Realizing he wasn’t there, she tried to turn the knob and found it locked. She turned with a start when she heard a scrambling sound coming from the attic stairs. It was Lucretia. Where could she go? She looked around frantically. She saw the back stairs and turned. Scrambling down them, she found herself in the kitchen, only steps from the back door.

  The two men heard the grappling, and were hoping Julita had managed to escape. Garret turned to Shadoe when he heard the door slam. “Go get her! Hurry! If Lucretia gets her hands on her, she’ll kill her!”

  Shadoe nodded, then turned, heading out through the maze of boxes and broken furniture. He slammed through the door, ran up the steps and around the mansion just in time to see Julita burst out the back door. He waited, seeing her turn and head for the woods, then lunged out and grabbed her. At that instant a wail rose from her throat and Shadoe reached around and clamped his hand on her mouth. She struggled and kicked against him, but he held her secure as he drug her down the cellar steps and inside.

  Julita continued to struggle, scratching at him like a wild animal.

  “Julita!” he yelled. “Stop! It’s me, for God’s sake!”

  Julita was struggling so hard she didn’t hear him. He finally grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands behind her, holding them with one hand. With his free hand he buried his fingers in her hair and jerked her face toward him and quickly closed his mouth over hers.

  Slowly the struggle stopped and the hurried bruising of her lips turned to a melting, delicious sensation that naturally relaxed the hold on her wrists, allowing them to creep up around his neck. All at once she remembered the cruel things he had said to her and pulled away, wiping at her mouth and looking at him with fearful eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he said, watching her back away from him. “You’re safe, do you understand? I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Her head turned, her eyes taking in the dusty, dirty, crowded room.

  “This is the basement,” he continued, walking toward her, carefully reaching for her hand.

  “The basement?” she repeated, her eyes becoming bright with hope. Her eyes darted around. “Where is he?” she whispered, “Where’s my papa?

  While she had her head turned he suddenly grabbed her hand and began to drag her along with him.

  She pulled back, sliding on the cold concrete. She yanked at his hand, then leaned over and bit him.

  “Ouch!” he yelled, breaking his hold.

  She quickly turned and ran.

  He chased after her, grabbing her from behind boxes where she tried to hide. When he had her tight within his grasp, he circled his arm around her waist while he pulled her along with him.

  Still she reached out, grabbing at boxes or furniture, anything to help her pull away from him. But it was no use. His hands were strong, his fingers like cords of steel.

  He continued to pull her through the maze until they rounded a corner and came out into another part of the basement. She immediately saw a grizzled old man in a wheelchair and knew the stranger must be her father.

  “Papa?” she whispered.

  “Yes, baby, it’s me,” he said. Tears coursed down his ragged old cheeks while he held out his hands to her. Just then Shadoe released her, and she ran to him.

  The very second she crawled into his lap, pictures flashed through her mind of a younger man with dark curly hair, a strong body, and handsome features. Now he was weak, old, his body emaciated from years of starvation and torment ravaging his body. She could feel his hands trembling as they touched her, and she knew he must be very weak. Being afraid her weight might be a burden on him, she pulled away, but he wouldn’t let her go. And so she nestled in his arms, expecting the feeling to be so natural … so right. But something was wrong. Why did his words suddenly have the barest hint of vulgarity as they whispered in her ear, his hands go from a loving caress to a pawing brute, and the warmth of his arms suddenly feel insistent, forceful … like she should be fighting his touch instead of welcoming it.

  And his kisses … why did they seem so … hungry?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Shadoe watched Julita’s face being showered with her father’s kisses and had a crazy feeling for a moment that she was struggling with him … fighting off his crazed affections. But after watching them for a moment, he dismissed the feeling as an overactive imagination.

  “I … t-thought you were dead,” she said shyly while furtively trying to loosen herself from his grip. “Lucretia … she told me….”

  “I know, baby. She told me the same thing about you.” He turned toward Shadoe. “She never actually told me she was dead, she just alluded to the fact, keeping me in torment, not knowing. Being trapped down here, it’s hard to know what’s real.” Turning back to Julita, he pulled back, a frown etching his face. “What in hell is that on your face?”

  Julita reached up and touched her skin, realizing her father was seeing her without her mask. “I....”

  “Lucretia’s handiwork,” Shadoe interrupted. “Damn, that woman’s a piece of work.”

  Garret grabbed Julita’s face, and turned it back and forth. “My God, it looks like someone has drawn scars on her face.” He looked up at Shadoe. “What the hell is going on?”

  “It’s a long story, Garret.”

  “Yeah? Well, for some reason I find my calendar empty. No meetings to go to, no phone calls to make, hell, all I have is time. Now, I want to hear it, damn it.”

  “You’ll hear it all, I promise, but before all that we have some plans to make.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Garret growled, “but don’t make me wait too long. I’d like to have just one more reason to cut her heart out and serve it to her on a platter.”

  While the two men continued to talk, Julita nestled in her father’s arms. She tried to keep her eyes off Shadoe by allowing them to dart around the dark basement, but it did no good. They always came back, searching his dark and savage face until they found his lips. Full and beautiful. She had always thought watching him was like watching the leading man of a wildly sensuous movie. She thrilled when she and he began to kiss, her eyes closing while the music surround
ed her. His presence was so strong he took her breath away, and then their bodies would begin to meld.

  But she couldn’t go any further.

  She knew that something lay beyond the kisses, a dark and dangerous something that could easily turn into ecstasy. She wanted to know what it was, and she wanted him to teach her. Her eyes moved up to his, their green glow reminding her of something primitive and untamed. She’d never known a man, at least not one like Shadoe. He reminded her of the ones she’d seen in magazines and on TV, yet he was so much better. They were so flat, unreal, not at all like him. He felt like a man … even smelled like one. He had a presence that was forceful and compelling … almost formidable. She shivered as she nestled in her father’s arms, timidly watching the man she’d been willing to give herself to. The dark stranger, the leading man of her fantasies.

  “So what have you got in mi--” Garret began, but his words faded when he saw the two of them looking at each other as if no one else were in the room.

  The looks in their eyes gave Garret a sudden jolt. His eyes darted from one to the other, realizing for the first time what was going on. His body may be frail, and he might have to sit on an ass so bony it almost cut into his flesh, but his eyes were sharp … and he didn’t like what he saw. Being very quiet, he observed them, knowing all too well what Shadoe was thinking about his daughter. He looked back at Julita, and the look she gave Shadoe triggered something inside him. Anger? Maybe, but also jealousy. He hadn’t felt it in a long time, and it was as surprising to him as it would be to either of them if they knew. But there it was … a bitter, sharp bile that pushed up into his throat so hard that he thought he might choke on it. His eyes narrowed when they darted back to Shadoe, trying to see what Julita saw. Strong body, rippling muscles, and a handsome face. His eyes moved along that handsome face, taking in his dark skin, the imbedded jade jewel and long hair. He could easily picture Shadoe in Indian attire … feathers all over him. Another sensation rose up in him, and the word half-breed whirled around in his mind. Ugly word to be sure, but to him he was just calling it the way he saw it. And he’d be damned to hell for all eternity before he let his daughter get mixed up with a dirty redskin. In that instant he felt a huge rush of determination while fresh red blood filled his veins. He already felt like his old self … a big, bawdy, harsh businessman who commanded others. No one told him what to do. He came and went as he pleased, did what he pleased. For some people having money meant a lifetime of leisure on beachfront property, boats, and perpetual golf games … but not for him. He put his money to better use. It could be turned into a weapon … an enticement … even a threat. He didn’t let anything get in the way of what he wanted. And if what he wanted was sometimes perverse … even bordering on immoral or corrupt … well … it didn’t matter. It’s what he was … is. His eyes narrowed on Shadoe, knowing this was one of those little irritating things he would have to take care of … and he would, he sure as hell would. But not now, the time wasn’t right. Right now he had to play along … let the Indian call the shots. But not for long. So, with great effort he pushed these feelings aside and again asked, “So, what have you got in mind?”