by J. D. Sloane
Alicia closed her eyes, remembering the drunken teenage nights she had spent with her friends listening to old CDs and cutting her hair over the bathroom sink and picked up the scissors again as she tried to rough up the edges around her face, each snip bringing her closer to that image in her mind.
Or almost no one, she thought, her eyes darting to her bag in the middle of the floor as she examined her handiwork. Currently holed up and jobless in the former flophouse of my very married first Pygmalion. An apartment he created for all the girls the world would never miss.
Alicia looked at herself for another minute, liking the way the vinyl leggings seemed to accentuate every trim angle of her legs and then walked over to the bag and pulled out her laptop, flipping it open in the middle of the rug. She dragged her fingers through her hair as she searched for the flash drive Emilio had given her and then loaded it with a quick tap. She fast-forwarded through the footage, her eyes darting over the time stamp flying forward at the bottom of the page and then paused it as she came to the clearest shot of the kidnapper she could find, taking a screenshot as she pulled up her email.
She scrolled through her contacts briskly, wondering if she had ever bothered to add Nolan’s email to her list and felt a strange quake of premonition as it came up under her folder of police contacts, a directory Lance had forwarded to her months ago for some story she couldn’t even remember.
She attached the photo, tapping her lips and then typed a short message below it as she glanced at the time.
I have more. We need to talk.
She looked it over once more, her eyes running over the blurry angles of her mystery man’s face, and then hit send as she let out her breath in one quick burst, shaking her head ruefully as she pulled out the flash drive.
Not quite an outright threat, she thought, looking over the screenshot once more before deleting it. And something tells me Nolan isn’t the kind of guy who’d respond to a big show of force anyway. I’ll give him about twelve hours to think over who he wants to give up- his old friends on the force or whoever’s bankrolling Dula’s lunatic prison island. His choice. Diplomacy first.
Alicia chewed at her bottom lip as she pulled up a footage folder titled ‘boat’ from her hidden alcove of files and forced herself to remember how many times she had watched it recently before shrugging and playing it again. She turned up the volume as the screen jumped to a strange garble of images, straightening out into a hand recorded video of a nighttime boat party. She watched long strings of lights bob cheerfully in the breeze above a well-stocked buffet table and felt her stomach flip as she heard several people screaming, the scene jumping to a crowd of people in dress clothes running towards the bow of the ship.
Alicia pulled the laptop closer as someone laughed and fired a gun, the crowd shifting into a sudden terrified huddle in the middle of the deck. She turned her eyes slightly as she heard someone speaking, the camera shifting to an image of Patrick Connor being kicked to his knees by two masked men and leaned closer as someone tied his hands to the support pole in front of him, the crowd parting in panic as her eyes darted to the bottom of the screen. She felt her fingers curl around the side of the screen as a tall man with his back to the camera pulled out a knife, his trim black suit crisp and expensive looking.
“How’s the sailing?” the man said, his low gravelly voice smooth and amused as he snapped his knife open with a flick of his wrist. “The river really is something this time of night. Don’t you think?”
The camera tipped away from him as someone leapt over the railing into the river below and then another man followed suit, the air suddenly ripped apart by laughter and screams and gunfire. Alicia watched closely, her fingers hovering over her mouse and then hit pause suddenly as the camera shifted back towards Connor again, the image of a woman in a long white dress hovering just at the outside edge of the shot. She hit the slow-motion button, her eyes shifting over the screen and felt her brow furrow as an impossibly beautiful girl smiled up at someone beyond the frame, a hand sliding around her waist just as the scene jumped to black.
Alicia replayed it again, watching the way the girl turned and swayed on her high gold heels as the hand reached out to grab her, dragging her towards the edge of the frame almost as if…
Almost as if they were dancing, she thought, her heart constricting painfully as she watched Ronan’s hand reach out to grab her again and again. Dancing under the stars while the world burned around them. Alicia watched the scene fade to black and then caught a glimpse of herself in the darkness of the screen, her fingers twisting her hair girlishly as she chewed her bottom lip. She pushed one side of her too blond hair behind one ear, turning her head slightly to the right and then tapped her fingers against her leg before getting to her feet.
She took a deep breath, the sudden desperate, pulse of adrenalin in her veins filling her with a bout of claustrophobia and grabbed her coat as she walked to the far wall of her apartment, opening a door that looked like a closet as the thunder of rain grew louder. She peered up the short flight of steps leading up to the rooftop and threw on her coat without tying it, climbing the steps two at a time as her fingers brushed the railing. When she reached the top step, she threw the small slanted exit door upwards and blinked against the rain, the wind swirling the drops above her head into a tight little cyclone. She covered her eyes with one hand as she stepped out onto the roof and then dropped it as she saw that it wasn’t even really storming yet, the wind had simply stirred up a relatively mild fall shower into a quick, gusty patter above the steps.
Around her the night air was cool and humid. Alicia held out her hand as she tugged her coat around her, delighted as always by the simple elegance of nature at its most elemental, and then wandered over to the edge of the wall, the empty streets below her blinking blue and white in the haze of the sputtering Martinizing sign. She felt along the lip of the railing, her fingers finding her secret hiding spot almost without effort and then brushed her hair away from her face, pulling the last cigarette out of her pack. She tapped it against the wall for a moment, her eyes scanning the city around her and felt her stomach twist into a sudden bundle of knots as she remembered the way Dr. Cain had grinned at her from across his desk, holding out the papers that would essentially end Ronan’s existence as casually as a long time loan shark that had simply beaten the system to the punch.
What is it you really want, Holly? Ronan had asked, his eyes tracing the lines of her face as if cataloging every feature for some kind of private, future use. Hmm? Who knows? Ask me and you might just get it.
Alicia opened her eyes as her knee touched the edge of the brick railing and then pulled her Zippo out of the crumbling nook, lighting the tip of her cigarette behind covered hands. She took a long drag and then closed her eyes, her body shifting closer to the edge as the wind raged around her. She thought of the way Brooke had looked up at him, swaying into Ronan’s arms as naturally as breathing and felt a vicious rush of envy, her entire body filling with one moment of sudden, desperate clarity.
That’s what I want, she thought closing her eyes, her yearning for him so lucid and singular that it felt like a prayer to the universe at large. That’s what I want. That’s what I want, that’s what I want, that’s what I want…
Chapter Nine
Lance looked up as Daniel carried his camera to the center of the visitor’s area and slid it up onto his shoulder as he angled the lens towards the booth directly in front of them, making a quick adjustment as Warden Dula walked past on the opposite side of the glass. He glanced around the dingy corner of the visiting hall as Daniel swung the lens from one side of the room to the other and pulled out his pack of cigarettes as Piper chatted with one of the guards behind them, trying and failing to wipe the smug little smile off her face.
He scowled as he lit up, snapping his fingers in Daniel’s direction and then shook his head as the warden stepped through the gate, his face dark and moody as he let out a quick
stream of smoke.
“How quickly we forget,” he said, keeping his voice low as Matt walked up to greet him, glancing in the direction of the crew as he beckoned Piper with a wave of his hand.
“No one told Alicia to do what she did, Lance,” Daniel said, swinging the camera off his shoulder. “And there’s no way Matt wasn’t going to go ahead with this story. No matter whose it was.”
“I’m still not sure she did anything at all. Are you going to tell me that Ronan White’s the only guy who’s ever wanted to tune that guy up in a bar parking lot? Christ, Danny. Matt’s a son of a bitch when he’s not drunk.”
“It’s the biggest story of the year,” Daniel said, setting the camera down on the ledge in front of the glass. “I love Alicia. You know I do. But there’s no way I’m not being part of this. I don’t feel bad about that and neither should you. In our place, she would’ve done the same thing and you know it.”
Lance tracked Matt across the room as another guard stepped through the gate and watched them shake hands in front of Piper’s considerable chest while she grinned up at them like a trained seal.
“And why the hell is Matt here anyways?” Lance said under his breath. “What, is he afraid his newest protégé is going to fall under White’s spell too?”
“Christ, Lance would you relax? He wanted to be here so he’s here. I think he and Dula went to school together.”
“You just like Piper,” he said, shaking his head as Matt glanced in their direction. “That’s your problem.”
“So what? Everyone likes her. She’s likeable.”
Lance sneered around his cigarette as Matt walked towards them from the front and felt a petty thrill of happiness when he saw how dark the bruise under his eye still was, even after the make-up girl had spent almost half an hour trying to disguise it.
“You can’t smoke that in here,” Matt said, his face losing all traces of its good guy in a tough job charm. “Take that shit outside if you need to.”
“Not an issue,” Lance said, stamping out his butt into a styrofoam cup on the ledge. “I’m finished.”
Matt looked down at the cup with narrowed eyes and gave Lance a shrewd look of appraisal, the expression passing from his face so smoothly he almost missed it. Almost, but not quite.
Looks like Alicia isn’t going to be the only journalist out on the bread lines this week, he thought, biting back a scowl as Matt stepped into the light and glanced through the viewfinder. Maybe we can start our own guerilla style reporting team. Tell all those really important stories that no one will ever see.
“They’re bringing White down now,” Matt said, his voice tightening slightly as he said it. “He’s already been mic’d up. After Piper is ready, we’re good to go. How long do you think you’ll need?”
“Not long,” Daniel said. “A few minutes, maybe. We’re basically good to go when she is.”
“Good,” Matt said, turning away. “When they bring him in, give me a few moments before you roll.”
“Sir?”
“Just a minute or two,” Matt said over his shoulder. “You’ll know when to start.”
“Hold on. Right there. Just wait.”
Ronan stepped into the quiet of the visiting hall and paused as another guard stepped forward, beckoning to Morlan to join the fray. He felt every well-concealed pulse of bloodlust swell outside of his control for less than a second as he noticed Dula adjusting his tie on the opposite side of the room and bit back an unpleasant grin as someone coughed behind him, the entire room dropping into a sudden, shifting silence.
Looks like Dula isn’t taking any chances, Ronan thought, his dark eyes shifting casually between the two armed guards on either side of the room. Wouldn’t want the good people of Detroit to get the wrong idea about this place. Especially in a PR stunt as blatant as this one.
He followed Morlan to the chair in the middle of the hall, his dark eyes rolling to the camera set up on the opposite side of the booth and waited for him to uncoil the chains around his chair leg before nodding that he could move in. He felt a petty thrill of amusement as he noticed that he was suddenly the unrivaled center of attention and then shot his eyes towards the window as he heard someone clear their throat, his eyes ticking over the six news crew members on the opposite wall as he let out a low, tuneless whistle.
And no Dr. Cain at all today unless I’m very mistaken, he thought, his wide dark eyes floating across the wall clock without pausing as he heard the door behind him swing closed. Looks like Dula plans to keep his red room specials a secret for just a little while longer. Nothing like a stellar professional reputation to help grease the wheels of tyranny.
Ronan rolled his eyes to his left as he noticed a young girl in a tight blue dress eyeing him from across the room and traced her tall, curvy frame without thinking about it, his face darkening with interest as he placed her face.
“Mr. White?”
Ronan tilted his head as Alicia’s replacement approached the glass between them and touched the high neck of her too-tight dress, some of her youthful confidence evaporating beneath the flat twirling heat of his glare.
“I’m Piper Webb, Mr. White,” the girl said, her smooth, tanned face dropping into serious lines as she stepped closer to the glass. “I’m really excited to have a chance to work together.”
Ronan sat forward, consciously letting his cuffs scrape against the countertop, his long blond hair brushing across the surface of his scars.
“Not nearly as excited as I am Miss Webb,” Ronan said, his voice lingering over her name until it was almost a caress. “Enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame.”
Piper shifted on her feet, her dark eyes darting over him rapidly and then cleared her throat as he felt something smooth and violent unravel behind his polite expression, barely bothering to smother it as her face registered a quick flash of contempt. He watched her flounce away, admiring the short hem of her skirt with an off-handed kind of appreciation and then glanced over his shoulder, waiting for Morlan to latch his restraints to the chains under the counter.
His dark eyes narrowed as he noticed as a tall middle-aged man watching him closely on the other side of the glass and rolled his jaw slightly as he recognized him, something dark and amused uncoiling behind his pale, too handsome face.
Well, well, Ronan thought. Looks like Miss Gale’s former patron didn’t waste a lot of time pinning for what might’ve been. Some men never learn how to quit while they’re ahead.
He turned his shoulders as he saw a short man in dark glasses step closer to his chair and raised his brows as he stopped in his tracks, raising his hand automatically as if trying to surrender.
“Just got to check your mic, Mr. White,” he said, clearing his throat mid-sentence until the entire last part of his request came out in an unintelligible jumble. “Could you say your name for me?”
He froze as Ronan shrugged and glanced back at Piper again, his eyes ticking between her and the wall clock like a metronome.
“Ronan,” he said, his gravelly voice low and bored. He glanced up as Matt stepped up to the table and leaned forward as he approached, the thin layer of stage make-up he was wearing doing little to conceal the dark green and purple bruises covering one side of his face.
“Give us two minutes, Larry,” Matt said, holding up his hand as the younger man reached for his mic again.
Ronan held the man’s eyes, drumming his fingers on the table as he looked over the bruised side of his face and then made a slow gesture under his cheekbone, pointing to it lightly as he let out a low whistle.
“That looks painful,” Ronan said, his low voice almost friendly. “Let me guess. Bet on the wrong horse?”
Matt flinched, rolling his jaw as if he had been forced to swallow something distasteful and then let out a short sigh as he watched the crewman move out of earshot.
“This?” Matt said, stepping closer to the drilled holes in the glass without quite stepping in
front of him. “This is nothing. This will heal up just fine in a few weeks. And even if it doesn’t, well, I still wouldn’t look like you, would I?”
Ronan paused, turning his head towards him as he smothered a quick flinch and shrugged politely as his dark eyes twirled, glancing in Piper’s direction.
“I wouldn’t take the break-up so personally if I were you,” he said, tracking Piper’s movements across the floor without quite breaking eye contact. “Matt, isn’t it? Women like Alicia always trade up eventually. You should teach yourself to get used to that. Especially in the stables you like to frequent.”
Matt’s face flushed, and he looked over his shoulder, cutting off Ronan’s view of Piper with a curt snap of his shoulders.
“I bet you think you’re pretty special, don’t you?” He said, his voice low and rushed. “I bet you think Alicia is some kind of a prize. Someone to add to your collection, right? I know how you like to do that.”
“She seemed like a nice enough working girl to me,” Ronan said, shrugging. “And very- devoted to her profession. I’m surprised you didn’t value her more actually. I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl quite so eager to go the extra mile for something she wants.”
“You think you’re the only one she’s ever betrayed me for?” Matt said dropping his voice to a rough whisper as he threw a quick glance over his shoulder. “Hmm? I’ve seen her fuck dozens of guys like you. I mean that literally. No, the only difference between me and you is that I knew what she was right from the beginning. And I never let her forget it.”
Ronan felt all the nerves in the tips of his fingers surge lightly as he drummed them on the counter, and then tipped him a wink as he made a careless gesture with one hand.