I looked at him, trying to act like the fond grandmother reuniting with her favorite grandchild. I needed to create this facade because the truth was, when I had heard his voice, I felt a twinge in my girly bits. Not even a partially naked Truman had caused that quick of a sexual response. I turned back to the table, not wanting him to see that I was attracted to him.
"What brings you here?" he asked. I glanced at him. He moved closer, standing at my shoulder.
"A friend invited me," I said, my eyes flashing towards Baxter.
He glanced in Baxter's direction. "I see."
"Do you?" The words poured out of my mouth. I hadn't meant to say them, and certainly not with that tone.
"I do," he said, understanding my meaning. "You're really an escort, then?"
I felt the sudden rush of tears. I blinked rapidly, clearing my eyes. I moved away from the Major. "It was nice seeing you again, kiddo."
I darted around an elderly couple placing their bid for the cooking lesson. For fuck's sakes. Nine hundred dollars. I navigated around the tables, taking time to regain my composure.
I stopped at a table, feeling as though I had placed enough distance between myself and the Major. I looked down at the bidding sheet. It was for a bluegrass festival. Two hundred dollars for bluegrass music?
"Did I offend you?" he asked, reappearing behind me.
Taking a deep breath, I took on the patient yet stern teacher role. "When a woman walks away, it's usually a sign that she no longer wants to converse with you."
"Really? I never would have picked up on that."
I stared back at him, trying to gauge his intent. Oh, he was good. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.
"What do you want?" I demanded.
"Maybe I wanted to commission your services?"
Taking a deep breath, I bent over the table, pretending to be interested in the bluegrass festival. "That's rather rude, don't you think? Besides, who ever said I was available? Go away, Jack."
"Good. So you remember my name."
I stood straight, thrusting my breasts out, placing my hands on my hips. I marched towards him, causing him to step back. "Of course, I do. I'm not senile, Jack...ass."
"Now, now. There's no reason for name-calling," he said.
"There's no reason for you to be following me; besides, I only give what I get."
He glanced away. His eyes narrowed, as if he were deep in concentration. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I don't understand your reaction, considering you're an escort. I would understand your point if it wasn't true. Are you denying you are an escort?"
I threw my hands up and walked away. I surveyed the room, looking for the restrooms. Hopefully he wouldn't follow me there.
I felt a hand wrap around my forearm. I flinched from the firm grip, but he didn't release me. There was an emergency door just a few steps in front of us. He turned around and slammed his back into the door, hurtling us outside. The alarm ticked until the door slammed shut, locking us outside.
I pushed away from him. When he released my arm I stumbled, landing on my ass. With a labored sigh, he stepped forward and dragged me to my feet. I stomped down on his foot, hoping he would release me. He didn't. He just stared down at my foot then frowned menacingly.
I couldn't believe I was being assaulted with so many people around. I was frightened. Red shared horror stories about escorts who had been abused and killed by johns. We weren't far from the entrance to the hall, and I saw several people standing outside, smoking.
I brushed myself off, glancing down at my skirt. I sensed his movement. My eyes shot up. "Don't come closer."
He stopped, his hands relaxed by his sides. I glared at him and said, "I'm going to walk towards that group of people. If you stay put, I won't yell. But if you move towards me again, I'm going to scream bloody murder. Got it?"
He dragged his fingers through his hair. His hand rested on the top of his head as he took another deep breath. "I've handled this badly."
"You're damn right, kiddo," I barked.
He flinched. "I didn't mean to frighten you." He turned earnest. "I'm sorry; that wasn't my intention."
"I severely misjudged you," I said.
"How do you mean?"
"I thought you were one of the good guys," I responded.
He winced, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. "Look. This got off to a bad start...."
"You military guys are good at following orders, right?" I interrupted.
He nodded, saying nothing.
"Stay," I said, speaking to him like he was a disobedient puppy. "Stay. Good boy."
I walked away, leaving the young Major standing in the dark.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
I returned to the silent auction. I needed to find Carol and get the hell out of there. The bidding was ending, and I found her standing with Baxter, Craft, and the swarthy man from the other night. I didn't see Powell as I walked towards their little huddle.
"Mercy! Come look what I found," Red said, grabbing my hand, dragging me to her find. It was a hideous bronze statue of a clown. The clown's face was molded into an eternal grin. In its hands were a bouquet of flowers and an unrecognizable object.
"Is that a machete?" I asked.
"I wondered the same thing," the swarthy man chuckled.
"No, it's a balloon!" Red declared.
"I don't see that, Red. I think that's a machete, a knife at least. Please tell me you haven't bid on this?" I asked her.
"Of course I did! It's grand!"
I tried tilting it, but the damn thing didn't budge.
"Heavy piece of shit, ain't it?" said Craft.
The clown stared back at me, gloating at my weakness. "Maybe someone will outbid you," I said.
"I'm the only bid," she retorted.
"Shit," I said in response. "How do you plan on getting it back to the house? I don't think we can lift that."
"These fine gentlemen have offered to help," Red boasted, waving her hand in their direction.
The swarthy man's eyes fluttered, but he kept his mouth closed. Craft looked amused, his eyebrow cocked, a grin on his face. My dear Baxter looked down at the statue, horror in his eyes.
"How much longer?" I asked, referring to the bidding period.
"Just a few more minutes," Red said. An older gentleman glanced over at the statue, curiosity on his face. Red noticed his observation. She lifted a finger and pointed at the man. His eyes widened and he shuffled away, watching Red for any sudden moves.
"She's scared away the other bidders," Baxter whispered to me. He glanced back at Red, a benign smile on his face.
"Ladies and gentlemen, bidding has now closed," came the announcement over the loudspeaker. Red clapped and turned towards Craft, hugging him. A bidding judge walked over to the table and picked up the statue's bidding sheet.
"Where's the Congressman?" I asked the group.
The swarthy man scowled at the statue. "His son-in-law called. His daughter is in labor," he said.
"That's wonderful," I said, feeling a bit wistful.
Red did a jig. She rubbed her hands, her face beaming with joy. "I need to pay."
"It's going to take them a bit of time. They need to sort the sheets and verify the bidding amounts," Baxter said.
"While they are doing that, I'm going to use the restroom," I said. I went back to the entrance area and noticed the restroom sign tucked behind a potted plant.
As I walked towards the women's restroom, the men's door opened. The Major stepped out into the narrow hallway, blocking my path. I glowered at him. He grinned and stepped back, allowing me to pass.
I did what I needed to do. Concerned that the Major might be lurking outside, I took my time washing and drying my hands. I even paced in front of the stalls for a moment, but someone entered the restroom. They looked at me, suspicion in their eyes.
"Constipated," I murmured, rushing out of the bathroom.
Thank goodness; no Major in sight. I scurri
ed along, catching up with the others as they struggled to carry the statue out.
"I thought you military men were supposed to be strong," Red taunted as they grunted under the weight of the clown.
They said nothing, but Craft's glance was scorching as they walked through the doorway.
Red looked guilty. Her eyebrows furrowed; her shoulders were hunched. "Let me pull my car up," she said, darting past them.
They walked out to the parking lot and dropped the clown on the ground. I grimaced, hoping it didn't break the concrete. "How heavy is it?"
"I'm not sure, but it's heavier than it looks" said the swarthy man.
Red pulled up to the walkway and opened the back door. The men complained. They didn't want to pick the damn thing up again.
"Just a bit further, that's all," Red said, waving them to her car.
They groaned, straining to pick up the statue. They pushed it into the backseat of her car.
"Okay, Carol. We'll follow," Craft said, slamming the door. She blew them a kiss and slid into the car. I sat down and pulled the safety belt over my body.
"You see what I mean, Mercy," she said, tapping my leg. "Sometimes, your clients become your friends." Odd. I wouldn't think that was a good thing.
***
Red pulled into her parking spot on the street. She opened the door, climbed out, and leaned against the trunk of her car. I got out and walked towards the back, waiting for the others to arrive.
"Where did you go?" she asked me.
"The restroom, remember?"
"No, before that," she said. "You disappeared. I looked around for you."
"Oh. Thanks," I hedged, hoping not to have to explain my disappearance. I didn't want to tell her about the young Major who was far too concerned about my professional status.
"Huh. Not going to tell me?" Car headlights flickered down the street, moving closer. I watched as the cars pulled up in front of the house. Red leaned against her car, watching me.
"What?" I asked, feeling the weight of her stare.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked as John and Thomas walked to her car. The swarthy man followed behind them.
I said nothing. Red slapped her hand on the car roof and then moved from the door, allowing them to pull the statue out of the car. I turned and hurried to the house, opening the door for them.
"Follow me, lads." Red rushed up the staircase and opened the door to her bedroom. The men grunted as they climbed the stairs to her room. "You can set it down there," I heard her say. "Gently. Gently." There was a loud thump. "Damn it, Hector!"
I shut the front door. I was about to lock the bolt when a man pushed in on me. I stumbled back, my hand reaching out for any weapon.
He stood in the foyer, his eyes bulging, and spittle in the corner of his mouth. "Where is she?"
His voice carried throughout the house. Craft raced down the stairs towards the stranger. He waved me away when he saw that I was going to confront the man.
"What are you doing?" Craft hissed. He placed his hands on the man's shoulders and began to push him towards the door. "Leave before someone calls the cops on you."
"Don't you fucking touch me, John!" The man pulled away from Craft. "Penelope!" he roared, storming up the stairs.
"Arthur!" yelled Baxter, standing between Penelope's ex-husband and the top landing. "You should go."
"What type of sick shit is happening in this goddamned house?" Arthur snarled as he pushed past Baxter. A door opened. Melia stepped out into the walkway, obviously startled by Arthur's shouts.
I scooted along the wall, stopping next to Melia. "Where's Albertine?"
"She ran to the store. She's out of toothpaste," Melia whispered. Her eyes locked on Arthur. She seemed more curious than frightened.
I stared at her, trying to figure out if she was serious. "At this time of night?"
Melia shrugged. We both turned when we heard Penelope's bedroom door open.
She stood there, tying her robe, her hair damp from her shower. "Arthur," she snapped. "How dare you come barging in here?"
At the sound of her voice, Arthur whirled around and marched over to stand in front of her. "Penelope, pack your things. No. Pack an overnight bag. I'll send someone to get the rest of your things."
She stood in the doorway, her arms blocking his entry. "Don't you dare, Arthur. I want you to turn around and walk right out of this house; do you hear me?"
"Not without you, Penelope," he demanded. Baxter walked behind Arthur and tugged the back of his shirt. Arthur recoiled, pulling free from Baxter. "Stay out of this, Admiral," he snapped.
"You aren't welcome, Senator," Baxter growled. He braced himself and I was sure that he was about to charge Arthur. I stepped in front of Baxter, hoping to block his path.
"That's right, Arthur. You are not welcome in my home," Penelope seethed.
"This isn't your home. This is a...goddamn it! Get your things, Penelope!"
"No, Arthur; now leave." She moved back to shove the door closed, but he stopped the door with his hand.
"Please leave, sir," I began. "Otherwise, I'm going to call the cops. I'm sure none of you want to be splashed across tomorrow's paper."
Arthur whipped around, his eyes focused on me. Anger seemed to pour from his body. His hands shook; his eyes were wild. I'd had enough encounters with crazy White men for one day.
He charged me, his finger pointed at my face. "You know good and damn well that if you call the cops on me, you'll be exposing yourself to criminal charges. How dare you bring my wife into this brothel?"
"That's right. I hog-tied her and dragged her ass here, forcing her to service customer after customer." That was probably the dumbest thing I had done all night.
"My wife isn't a whore," he said, taking a threatening step towards me.
Baxter tensed behind me. I turned, placed my hands on his chest and looked at him, silently imploring that he not do anything.
Turning back to Arthur, I said, "You are absolutely right. Penelope isn't a whore. She's a fine lady, a good moral one."
"She shouldn't be here. She has a home of her own," he said, looking towards Penelope.
Penelope shook her head. "That's not my home. Not any longer. You took my home! And for the last time, I am not your wife!"
Arthur walked back over to Penelope. He raised his hands, pleading with her to join him. "You cannot stay here. I'll take you to a hotel and then I'll drive you home in the morning."
"You aren't listening to me, Arthur. I'm not going anywhere with you."
"You aren't staying in this whorehouse another damn night."
"I will go where I want and when I want. I'm staying here," she snapped.
He turned to glare at Baxter. "I can't believe you would allow my wife to do this. I thought we were friends."
"She's an adult. She's free to make her own choices," Baxter retorted.
"My wife, a whore," Arthur muttered, the bluster gone out of him. "What about our children?"
"You weren't too concerned about me or the children when you were fucking your bimbo!" Penelope screeched. He flinched. "You! Hector," she said, pointing at the swarthy man.
Hector's eyes widened as he realized she was addressing him. "Penny?" he answered weakly.
"I'm sorry for your wait," she said, moving aside.
Confused, he asked, "What do you mean?"
"Get in here, right now!" she ordered.
Hector began to walk towards Penelope, his eyes focused on Arthur. The Senator looked at Penelope, watching as she waited.
"Good night, Arthur. Don't bother coming back. You're bad for business," she said, as Hector walked into her room. Arthur stepped forward, but she slammed the door in his face.
Arthur fell back. "Please, Penny," he whimpered, pounding on the door. She didn't answer. The door remained closed. He turned towards us, a man whose heart was clearly breaking. There was no fight left in him. He seemed rather pitiful as he shuffled down the stairs. "Good evening, everyo
ne. I apologize for any inconvenience."
I took a deep breath, stepping away from Baxter. "Thank you for remaining calm," I said.
"As much as I wanted to rip his head off, he's still a senator," he said, smiling down at me. I patted his cheek and walked down the stairs. He followed behind me and stood in the foyer.
Melia moved towards Penelope's door. Raising her hand, she knocked swiftly. "Hey, Penelope, the asshole is gone." She listened at the doorway, waiting for Penelope to open the door. Melia knocked harder, shouting through the door, "He's gone!"
A startled look crossed her face. She turned to me, her mouth open. She pressed her ear against the door and pulled back. Her eyes widened, and her hands covered her mouth. Her shoulders began to shake as she fought back laughter.
"You've gotta be shittin' me," Red said, moving towards Penelope's door. She looked at Melia, then down at me, and then she pressed her ear against the door. She fell back. "Oh my God."
Why would they press their ears against the door? What could they be listening to? Oh God. "Please tell me that they aren't."
"Hector always had a thing for Penny," Craft said from Red's doorway.
"This isn't funny, John," Baxter said. "What are we going to do?"
"Not a damned thing," Craft said. He walked down the stairs and slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Y'all have a good night," he said, grinning at us. He winked at Red and left the house.
Baxter glanced back at Penelope's bedroom. He shook his head. "I'm sorry for the disturbance, ladies."
I heard Albertine walk onto the porch and greet the men. "Hello! What a peaceful night, yes?"
Melia's smiled as she heard Albertine's arrival. She darted down the stairs and across the foyer. "Girl, you will not believe what just happened!"
Albertine shut the door and hung her coat on the coat rack. She lifted a plastic bag and pulled out two boxes of toothpaste. She grinned excitedly when she said, "No, my friend. You won't believe what happened. There's a 'buy one, get one free' sale!"
Melia stopped in her tracks. "Really? What did they have on sale?"
Albertine placed the toothpaste on the little table in the foyer. I glanced at Red, not believing sale items could so easily distract Melia.
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