by Alice Tribue
“How did you stay so close to her and not slip? A lesser man would have failed.”
“I had a job to do and that was my focus.”
“Didn’t she wonder why you never took things further?”
“I told her that I was waiting for her to be sure about me. I told her that I respected her, and she loved it… Now, are you interrogating me or her?”
“Her,” he says, giving me a chin lift as he walks past me and into the room.
~VICTORIA~
An older man walks into the room where I’m being held. He wears a pair of khaki pants, and a shirt that reveals a bit of a gut, paired with a navy blue jacket. He carries a folder in one hand and a plastic cup in another. I’m almost happy to see him. I’d be happy to see just about anyone at this point. God only knows how long they’ve left me in here. My glee dissipates when I see his gun peeking out from beneath his jacket, and I’m reminded of exactly where I am.
“Miss Powell,” he greets, putting a glass of water in front of me. “Detective Burke.”
“Why am I here, Detective Burke?” I ask skipping over the forced niceties and greetings.
He takes a seat across from me, places the folder down on the table, and crosses his hands over it.
“I’m so sorry to have dragged you out of your home like that. I’m sure everything will get straightened out quickly.”
“What exactly are you trying to straighten out?”
He shakes his shirt using it as a fan. “Is it warm in here? Can I turn up the air for you?
“No. I’m fine.”
He opens up the file, browses it quickly, and looks up at me.
“Says here that you went to Columbia University and graduated at the top of your class. That’s pretty impressive.”
“Thank you,” I respond indifferently, scared to show any emotion at all.
“My brother went to Columbia, did well, and got his bachelor in… I don’t remember, actually. Anyway, the family is proud of him. Not top of his class, though.”
“Fascinating,” I tell him, leaning back in my chair. “I’m sorry, Detective Burke, but I’ve been here for God only knows how long. I haven’t been allowed to make a phone call, and I have yet to be told why exactly I’m being held here.”
“Okay, well, I’m investigating some things and your name has come up. Now, I’d like to talk to you about it and see if we can’t get this sorted out, okay?”
I say nothing because I’m pretty sure if I open my mouth, I will lose my shit. I contemplate asking for my lawyer, but I worry that it will make me look guilty.
“So because I want to talk to you and I’m going to ask you a few questions and you were brought down here in a police car, I’m going to read you your rights, okay? It doesn’t mean that you’re under arrest and absolutely any time you want to, you can stop talking to me, all right?” His eyes are warm, and he appears like he cares, but I know better.
“Okay,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Okay. You have the right to remain silent anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”
“Yes.”
He slides a paper across the table for me to read.
“This says that you have been read your rights, and you understand them. If you agree, I need you to sign right here.” He points to the signature line as if I’m a complete fucking idiot. “This doesn’t say you did anything, just that you understand your rights.”
I say nothing in return but pick up the pen provided and sign my name.
“I see you own and operate a day spa here in Manhattan… Mirage?”
“That’s correct.”
“Do you do anything else for work?”
“No, I don’t… well, I’m actually opening up a second day spa. That’s in the works.”
“Business must be good then.”
“Business is good,” I confirm.
“Do you like what you do?”
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it,” I say curtly.
“Right, okay, well, like I said, your name has come up several times with some stuff I’m investigating and it actually regards a high-priced prostitution ring. Would you know anything about that?”
“No,” I reply, never breaking eye contact, keeping my body very still not wanting to give him any signals—a change of body language that might give him a reason to doubt me. Not that he doesn’t doubt me anyway, but I don’t want to make it worse. “I’m a respected businesswoman, Detective Burke, and I run a legitimate business. Why would I know anything about a prostitution ring?”
“Why do you think your name would come up associated with a prostitution ring?”
“I have no idea.”
“People talk, you know, they just do. You might think that things are a secret but someone always talks.”
“People talking wouldn’t affect me.”
“The talk is that you’re a pimp, a Madam, that’s the term that was used in reference to you.”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t know anything about any prostitution ring, and I am definitely not a Madam. I’m not involved in any way,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice level, trying to appear unaffected even though I’m dying inside. Even though, as we speak, men are tearing my apartment apart, even though the one thing that could send me to prison for a long fucking time is sitting in a safe in my office.
“All right, well.” He looks through the file once more and produces a picture. “What about this lady here, you ever met her?”
The woman in the picture used to work for me. She was one of my girls, a girl who I fired after she started abusing drugs and refused to go to rehab. Fucking bitch went to the cops on me.
“No, I’ve never met her before.”
“Are you sure? Her name is Kimberly Lewis.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay, well, I think you do know her. I think that she is one of the girls who you’ve employed as a prostitute. I think you severely pissed her off, and now she’s implicated you in this. So, I think we both know that you are very familiar with this girl.”
“No. I don’t know her.”
“You don’t know her.”
“No.”
“So if I tell you that I have photographic evidence. Pictures of the two of you together, what would you say?”
I’d say you’re full of shit; I’d say that I rarely meet with any of my girls outside of the office, and I am damn sure I never met her anywhere other than the privacy of my office.
“I’d say you must be mistaken.”
“You need to tell me the truth, Miss Powell.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I own a day spa.”
He takes a moment. I can see the frustration on his face; I’m hiding mine better than he hides his, but inside, I’m shriveling up. Inside, all I can see is that fucking safe. He lets out an audible sigh and shakes his head at me.
“Victoria, I don’t believe you. I wish I did.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulls out a piece of paper, and sets it on the table.
“This is a search warrant, Victoria. As you know, we’re reaching your home, but we’re also searching a vehicle registered in your name, your main office, and your spa along with any and all computers.”
I stare at him again motionless. “I’m sorry you’re going through all of this trouble. You aren’t going to find anything.”
“If what you say is true, we’ll carry out our search, all will be good, and you’ll be out of here in no time. We’ll have to keep you here in the meantime.”
“If that’s the case, I’d like to contact my lawyer.”
“Does this mean you’re done talking to me, Miss Powell?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Wh
ich is nothing?”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll have someone bring you a phone,” he says before exiting the room. Even then, I show no emotion. I sit there staring blankly ahead because I know that someone is watching me from the other side of the mirror. I think of Nathan, of what he would think if he could see me know. Of what he’ll say when they find the evidence in my safe, book me, and put me away for years. Stupid Karma, I really hate that bitch.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My utterly useless lawyer did nothing to get me out of here; he said there was too much red tape and it took him hours to do anything at all. To make matters worse, I told him to contact Ivy to let her know what was going on, and Ivy called my father. Yes… my father. What are we, in high school? If my life wasn’t fucked up enough, now my father is aware of exactly why I’m here. I’m just thankful that the press hasn’t been notified, which is a small miracle.
The door to the room opens and both Detective Burke and my lawyer walk through.
“You’re free to go, Miss Powell,” he says softly. “We’ll need to ask you not to leave town in case we have any other questions.”
I stare at them for a moment before grabbing my purse. I’m unsure what the fuck is happening. How can they possibly be letting me go? Is it possible that they didn’t find the jump drive in my safe? I assumed I’d be heading to an arraignment at some point. I decide not to sit around waiting to figure it out. I get up and out of there as quickly as I can. I almost wish I could go back in the room when I run right into my father.
“Victoria, what in the actual fuck?” he says, pulling me in for a hug.
“Not here, Daddy. Just get me out of here,” I whisper in his ear. He lets go of me, putting a hand on my back and leading me toward the exit. I see an office door open in the distance, somewhere out of the corner of my eye, and I’m drawn to it. Out walks a man that I know, a man who I’m all too familiar with, and my stomach drops. It sinks and I’m shocked and a little scared. At first, I think they’ve brought him in for questioning too, but I realize that’s not the case when I take in his appearance. He’s wearing the same t-shirt and jeans he wore when he left me last night, only this time with a very distinctive badge on his belt. I’m pretty sure I can hear the sound of my heart breaking irrevocably, permanently when I see Nathan coming out of the office.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God. How is this happening? How is this possible? There must be some mistake because this is so wrong. Only it’s not wrong, it’s real, and everything in me that he made whole comes undone.
I stand immobile, my eyes now glued to his face as he spots me and freezes, the air growing thick with tension. So thick that I can feel it like a slap in the face; it grabs hold of me and doesn’t let go. It squeezes the air right out of me.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Don’t ever forget it. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”
His words come crashing back to me, and they make perfect sense now. It’s like a light being flipped on, and everything becomes crystal clear. He knew it was good-bye. He knew exactly what was going to happen to me last night, and he said absolutely nothing. Of course, he didn’t—he orchestrated the whole thing. This wasn’t about love, not for him, and as pissed as I am with him right now, I’m even more pissed off at myself. I knew better, knew better than to let him get close. My first instinct was to push him away, and now I wish I had listened.
He tilts his head, and for a minute there, he looks remorseful. He looks like he cares about what’s happening to me, but he’s obviously a great actor. One look at him, and I’m back in time, back to when my mom used to tell how much she loved me one minute, and the next, she was shoving me in my room so that she could entertain her latest John, or she’d let me sit there watching her get high. Her love was never real, either, and I swore to myself that I’d never let that happen to me again. Yet here I am. Only this time, it’s worse because I could have prevented it this time.
Nathan takes a step in my direction, and I’m on the move, turning away and walking quickly toward the exit with my father hot on my trail.
“Victoria,” I hear Nathan call as I hit the street. Even out here in the middle of a busy city, I feel caged, trapped, a prisoner of my own emotions, of his betrayal. I ignore him, and my obviously confused father while I walk toward the parking lot.
“Victoria,” he calls again, and the hurt turns to rage. If I were alone, I’d turn around and punch him in the face. Cop or not, I’d take a swing at him. I’d gladly do time in jail for assaulting an officer because he deserves it.
“You know him?” my dad asks, and I nod my head. Just as we hit the entrance to the lot, I’m pulled back a step and spun around.
“Let me go,” I say intently.
“Hey.” I hear my dad call out in warning to Nathan.
“We need to talk.”
“Let. Me. Go.”
“Let her go,” my dad says earning a glare from Nathan, but he does as he’s asked.
“This isn’t over.”
I move to walk away and stop as commonsense kicks into overdrive.
“Is your name really Nathan?” I question with a disgusted snicker.
He looks at me for a moment. I can see a lot going on behind his eyes, but I don’t understand any of it because, when push comes to shove, I really don’t know him at all. He shakes his head, and I’m done. I give him a two-handed shove and turn away, following my father to his car. And for the first time, I wish I’d never met Nathan Lennox, or whatever the fuck his name is.
***
My father starts the car and pulls out onto the road, looking pale, horrified, and angry. It’s not a good combination, but I only have myself to blame.
“Is this really fucking happening right now? Please, please, baby, tell me you’re not involved in prostitution. Not after everything your mother went through.”
“I’m not a prostitute, Dad.”
“No, you’re just a fucking Madam. That’s so much better, Victoria. This is bullshit,” he yells.
“You have to calm down, Dad. It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like then, huh?”
“Can you just take me home, please? We can talk there. I just need a minute to think, okay? I’ve been locked up in that room for hours.”
An uncomfortable silence fills the car and I look away, staring out the window, unable to keep my emotions at bay. The tears begin to fall as I start to process all that has happened in the span of one night. Dad takes hold of my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and communicating so much without having to say a word. The car merges onto the highway, and as my tear-streaked face makes it hard to see, I’m grateful that my father is driving.
I hear the familiar rumble of a motorcycle speeding as it comes up to the side of the car. My breath catches when I look out the window and see Nathan riding dangerously close by.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, wondering why the fuck he won’t just leave me alone. Hasn’t he already done enough?
“What the hell?” Dad questions the moment he notices Nathan, who’s now signaling us to pull over.
“Fuck, just pull over, Dad, before he gets us all killed. I’ll get rid of him.”
“You’ll stay right here. I’ll get rid of this fucker,” he says, slowing the car down and bringing it to a halt on the side of the road. Nathan pulls his bike in front of our car, making a quick getaway impossible.
“Stay here!” Dad says, opening his car door and getting out. I hear him shout as he approaches Nathan. “What the fuck are you doing? Haven’t you done enough? You’re trying to kill us all now, too?”
“I just need to see her, sir. This has nothing to do with you.”
“The fuck it doesn’t, asshole, she’s my kid.”
I have to put a stop to this ridiculousness before they come to blows. I quickly wipe the tears off my face and jump out of the car, moving to stand between the two of them.
&n
bsp; “What do you want, Nathan? Or whatever the fuck your name is… Just let me go home.”
One shake of his head, and I know his answer. I can see the steely determination in his eyes. “Get on the bike, Tori.”
“You are completely fucking crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you, Detective.” I put as much disdain into his title as I can. He can go to hell as far as I’m concerned.
“Get in the car, Victoria,” Dad yells, as he points to Nathan. “You stay the hell away from my daughter; I’m not letting you take advantage of her again.”
I see he’s put two and two together likely figuring out that Nathan is the man I was telling him about.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Just go home, Detective. I don’t want to see you; I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”
“Get in the car, Tori,” I hear my dad call again.
“Don’t you dare get in that car,” Nathan warns. “You don’t get to walk away from me without talking to me about it first.”
Are you delusional?
“I don’t owe you anything. You lied to me, and you’re trying to put me behind bars, for God’s sake.”
“It started out that way, but it’s more than that and you know it.”
I glare at him, trying to pick through his words, trying to decipher what’s real and what isn’t.
Dad comes to stand beside me. “I’ve heard enough of this, Victoria. I’m taking you home.”
“Get. On. The. Bike. Now,” Nathan commands, bringing my attention back to him. “I will call for backup. I will arrest your father on whatever bogus charge I can hold him for. If you don’t want to see me after we’re done talking, then fine. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go myself.”
I look at Dad as he takes hold of my arm. “Victoria.”
“Dad, what am I supposed to do?” I ask, a hint of desperation in my voice.
“You get in the car and let me take care of this, baby.”
“Tori, for fuck’s sake. NOW!” Nathan barks. Losing all patience with me, he strides over to his bike, holds out the extra helmet for me, and waits for me to take it.