Seconds later, I feel warm hands on my naked back. “Open your eyes and get up.” The voice is soft but urgent. Jason is on his knees by the bed, my clothes in his hands. “Put your clothes on, and get out of here!” he whispers loudly.
Somehow, I stand. I’m a machine, clothing myself like I’ve done millions of times before. He has the decency to turn his head as I put one foot and then the other into my underwear. As I slide my T-shirt and sweatshirt over my head, I realize I am no longer the priority to these criminals. If there is a time to run, it’s now.
I take my bag and run out of the room with a speed I didn’t know I was capable of. Opening the heavy stairwell door and running up the steps, I take two at a time as sweat pours down my temples. Are they after me? Are they coming? I want to turn my head back to see if they’re behind me, but my fear won’t let me turn around.
I hear cursing and some screams, but all the sounds are muffled by the whooshing sound in my ears. The stairs seem to vibrate with the sound of gunshots. Have I been shot? Adrenalin mixed with confusion pumps through my veins as I jet up the darkened stairwell; the lights are all out on the third floor, and it feels like I’m running through a black hole. My heart pounds into my throat.
In a blink, I’m back inside my empty apartment, staring in a trance at my gray threadbare living-room couch. I look at my feet and realize I’m barefoot. Oh shit, I’m going to need to buy a new pair of sneakers. I wonder if there’s any in my size at the thrift store.
Turning toward my bedroom door, my mind registers the crack down the center. I briefly remember one of my mom’s old boyfriends throwing a vase against it, splitting the wood. I walk into my room like a zombie and complete my nightly routine of brushing my teeth, washing my face with soap and scalding hot water, and changing into a clean pair of pajamas. In the recesses of my mind, I know what just happened to me is horrifying, but I keep telling myself if I just act normal, maybe it’ll all just go away.
Before getting into my bed, I kneel on the floor, fisting my worn-out navy comforter in my hands. Prayers tumble out of my mouth to God, begging him to get me out of here before Carlos finds me. All at once, I feel punched in the gut. I run to the toilet, dropping my head into the bowl and emptying all the contents of my stomach.
Are they going to come for me tonight? Should I hide? I shut the bathroom door and curl up in the fetal position by the toilet, too afraid to go back into my bedroom where there’s a window.
What feels like seconds later, I hear the front door open and close. As footfalls get closer to the bathroom door, my chest constricts, my mouth gaping open and poised to scream.
“Eve, are you in the bathroom? Get out, I need to wash up!” Janelle throws the door open and looks down at me on the floor, momentarily confused.
She gives me a once over. “You look like shit, girl.” Her voice is quiet and laced with concern. “What are you doing in the bathroom? Are you sick?” I hear her, but can’t manage a reply. She squats down, placing the back of her hand on my forehead.
“Holy shit, Eve, you’re burning up! And your face is pale as hell. You think it’s food poisoning or something? Let me get you some meds.” She helps me up off the floor and walks me to my bed, letting me lean on her as we walk. A few minutes later, she drops two pills into my hand. I put them on my tongue when she hands me a glass of water. I swallow the medicine and a few minutes later, I’m plunged into sleep.
CHAPTER 2
I wake up to the sound of the shower running and pipes groaning. I shut my eyes again, savoring the few minutes of relative quiet before Janelle comes back into our room. When I hear the water turn off, dread pools in my stomach. I can barely get enough air into my lungs to complete a solid breath. Every part of me wants to pretend like last night didn’t happen, but I need to tell her if I want to stay alive. Oblivious to my anxiety levels, she shuffles into the room and hops into my small single bed, a fluffy pink towel draped around her tall and thin frame. She presses a hand against my head, checking my temperature.
“You’re getting me soaked,” I complain, my voice a morning rasp.
“I’m glad you’re up! And I guess your fever is gone. It must have been food poisoning, right?” She hops off the bed and opens our shared closet, pulling out a white tank top and skinny jeans, getting ready for work. She’s a hair stylist at the salon at Bergdorf Goodman. It’s a job any girl in her industry would kill for. Most of the salon’s clients are celebrities or rich uptown girls with trust funds; they book months in advance for a cut or highlights, ranging upwards of three-hundred dollars. After sliding on her jeans and a lacy white bra, she looks down at her phone, smiling at whatever she’s seeing. Her face lights up.
“Oh my God, Eve.” She turns to me with a smile and then brings her gaze back to the phone. “Guess who’s coming into the salon today? Gwyneth!” She jumps up and down. “Louis just texted me.” She looks down at herself, eyebrows low. “Shit! I need to change into something better than this.” Reopening our closet, she rummages through clothes.
“Janelle…” I start. She swivels her head, turning to me.
“What is it?” she asks nonchalantly, pressing a navy blouse against her chest and staring at herself in our long mirror.
“Something really bad happened. We need to talk.” I drop my head nervously. When I look back up, I see anxiety clear in her eyes.
Placing her phone beside her, she sits next to me. “What’s going on?”
I have to swallow a few times, but eventually, find the strength to tell her about the Snakes. She sits in silence until I’m completely done with every horrifying detail. It’s agony to recount the story, but I need to tell her the truth. I need her help.
“Oh, Eve.” Her face crumbles and tears well in her eyes. She draws me into her chest as we both start to cry.
“The Snakes.” She sobs. “Those guys are psychotic!”
“I know I messed up big time, Janelle.” Embarrassment mixed with agony blazes through me. I’m old enough to know better. I was literally saved by a stroke of luck. I could have been raped and beaten. Left for dead.
“Janelle,” I sob. “It’s all my fault. If I had just listened to you and didn’t lose track of time, none of this would have happened.” I curl into her side, bawling uncontrollably.
She pulls back, staring at me hard. “Eve, stop this. This is not your fault. Do you hear me? It’s NOT your fault. Walking home late at night does not mean that anyone has the right to take you or to touch you against your will.” Her words echo in my head. “I never want to hear you talk like this. We live in a dangerous place and God knows you do everything you can to stay under the radar. But you have to live, right?” She pulls me closer to her body, holding me together when it feels as though I’m being torn apart. “I’ll figure out how to get you out of this. He won’t come back for you, all right? We’ll figure it out together.”
A memory rushes to the forefront of my head. “I forgot to tell you, but Jason was there.” I stare off into space, remembering how he thrust my clothes at me and practically begged me to run.
“Jason Mendes?” A half smile forms on her lips and my face immediately falls.
“Don’t even think about it, Janelle!” I hiccup, knowing what she’s insinuating.
She has the decency to drop her head for a moment. “Come on, Eve. Chill out. He isn’t one of them, just a hang-around. His mom is on the sixth floor and sick with cancer. I do her hair sometimes and met him when I was over there. He deals some drugs for the Snakes on occasion, but nothing really too serious. I think he’s a mechanic or something, actually. Anyway, maybe if you were closer to him,” she says, raising her eyebrows at the word closer. “They’d leave you alone. Wasn’t Vania saying the other day that he’s into you?”
“No,” I tell her, my voice shaking. “Why don’t you go out with him? If he was with you, he’d probably protect me too, right?”
“Everyone knows I’m with Leo these days. Otherwise, I’d hit him up in a
heartbeat.” She winks at me in an attempt to lighten the mood.
She and Leo have a crazy relationship. One minute he’s the best guy ever, the next she’d be screaming at the top of her lungs and cursing the day he was born. I haven’t met him yet, but I’m not too eager considering all the drama he causes. Just the thought of him has me rolling my eyes.
She looks at me and huffs. “Stop being so judgmental, Eve. I see the look on your face and it isn’t pretty.”
“It’s not unwarranted judgment. The guy takes you on an emotional roller coaster on a weekly basis! You deserve better than him.” I get out of bed, agitated and feeling weirdly hollow.
“Unwarranted judgment?” she repeats, standing up tall. “Okay, Miss Big-Shot attorney.” Her condescending voice is like a kick to the chest. “Anyway, he cares about me.” She lifts her head up.
“A man who cares about you won’t put you through that,” I sass, surprised at my tone.
She places a hand on her hip and shifts her weight to one leg. “Did your books teach you that? Because one stupid make-out session with Juan doesn’t qualify you as a relationship guru. And clearly, you don’t exactly have the best intuition, huh?”
My heart sinks.
“I—” My face crumbles and her face falls in regret as she steps forward, throwing her arms around me. I lean into her, my tears running like a faucet.
She sighs, holding me by the shoulders. “Look. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said that. Especially after what you’ve just been through. I know jumping into a man’s bed for protection is the last thing you’d ever do. But girl, we’ve got to figure something out!” Her voice is desperate as she pulls me back into her chest, rubbing my back. I keep crying, and she continues to shush me gently.
When I finally catch my breath, she sits us both down at the table. “I don’t want you worrying about Carlos. I have so much goodwill in this building, did you forget? I’ll cash in a favor. Someone will talk to him and tell him you’re completely off limits, okay?” I manage to nod my head. “You know these morons have short attention spans. One second, it’s all about you and the next, they’re on to someone or something else.” I look up at her and see hope shining through her glassy eyes.
As a favor to some of the older ladies in the building, Janelle sometimes spends her time cutting and coloring their hair for free. Especially when the elevator is dead, it becomes too hard for older people to take the steps and leave the building. Even if they are strong enough to walk all the way downstairs, most of them are afraid of taking the stairwell all alone, and rightly so. With the lights always going out, bad shit will often go down in there.
People are always looking to repay Janelle for her kindness. Usually, it’s in the form of home cooking. But maybe Janelle is right. Maybe she really can have someone talk to Carlos, and he’ll leave me alone.
“Now go take a shower,” she instructs. “You have work at Angelo’s today, right? It’s good for you to get out of here and clear your head. We’ll take the subway uptown together and you’ll call me before you come home so I can meet you.”
“O-kay,” I manage to stutter.
She bites her lip, and I can tell there is more she wants to say. “Don’t get mad with what I’m about to tell you, because I know you won’t like it.” She lets out a loud exhale. “I think you need to consider talking to Angelo about what happened.”
“No!” I reply vehemently. “I’m not talking about this with him. If he got the Borignone family involved, I’d be bringing a shit storm on myself.” I angrily wipe the tears off my face with my fingers, feeling some scratches on my face. My stomach churns.
Janelle clears her throat, snapping me back into the moment. “Yeah, but what if my connections can’t control Carlos? We’ve got to think of a backup plan.”
“If I let the Borignones help me, I’ll be indebted to them. I can’t get involved. Once I start owing people, I may as well be dead. You know Antonio—no favor is free.”
She sighs. “Okay. Let’s see what I can do first.” She hugs me again as I walk out of the room with my head down.
Entering the bathroom, I tell myself Janelle will be able to fix this for me. My tears are now laced with relief, because she’s here and has my back. She’ll talk to someone. She’ll make sure the Snakes don’t bother me again. I’m not alone in this. I take my clothes off carefully, making sure not to look at myself in the mirror. Just the thought of being naked sickens me. This body I’ve been given is up for grabs, belonging to anyone stronger than me who wants it. I turn on the water extra hot, practically scalding myself as I step under the spray. I want to clean Carlos’ fingerprints from my body.
I know when Janelle mentioned the Borignone family, she did it because they are probably the only ones who could actually kill Carlos and get away with it. The Borignones are the most notorious crime family on the East Coast. They do everything from trafficking illegal drugs and guns to owning half of New York City real estate and small businesses—from cleaners and pawnshops to strip clubs and gas stations, all under their control. They even own Angelo’s Pawn, the shop I work at. But turning to them to fix this for me has to be my last resort. Being in debt to the Borignones would be a nightmare. My mom has been under their thumb for years, and Janelle and I have sworn on our lives we’d never fall into their trap.
On the other hand, Angelo is an associate with the big boss’s ear. There’s no doubt if I told Angelo what happened, he’d arrange to have Carlos’s neck snapped before I got my weekly paycheck.
My mom got me the job with Angelo two years ago. She’s a stripper at a gentleman’s club on the West Side—owned, of course, by none other than the big boss, Antonio Borignone. When I was looking for a weekend job, Antonio told my mom about an opening at Angelo’s Pawn. I was scared as hell because saying no to Antonio was not an option. Working for Angelo was frightening at first, yet he turned out to be one of the best guys I’ve ever known. He lets me read and study when the shop is quiet, and in return, I write essays for his son Alex, who goes to some fancy prep school. I’ve read and written essays on some of the most amazing classic literature of all time. Last year, I asked Angelo if I could see my grades from the papers I write, and he now brings me the marked-up essays from Alex’s professors. I’ve tried to learn from my errors to make my writing better, and according to his teacher’s remarks, it looks like I’m truly growing as a writer.
After getting dressed, I walk into our tiny kitchenette where Janelle passes me a coffee with two packets of Splenda. “I’m gonna do my makeup, then we’ll hit it. You okay?” I nod my head quietly and move to sit in the small folding chair at the kitchen table. Staring out the window with my coffee sitting in front of me, I think about my mother. I wonder how long it’s been since I saw her last. A few weeks? A month, maybe? I look around the kitchenette, remembering the days when my mom would only be gone for a few days, but it felt like forever.
***
“Girls, let’s go shopping!” my Mom squeals from the doorway, clapping her hands together. We turn our heads and smile in surprise; our mama is home! She’s been gone for three and a half days. Janelle and I jump off our chairs and run to the front door, greeting her with tight hugs around the waist.
“Mama, can we go to Toys‘R’Us? There’s this new scooter I wanna get!” Janelle lifts her hands in prayer, blinking her baby-blue eyes that people always gush over.
“Today we can do anything you girls want! My bank account is ready for action! I met this guy. His name is Antonio Borignone—and he’s rich and gorgeous! He says he’ll take the best care of me! And I just know he’s telling the truth!” Her smile is huge and scary, bigger than usual. Janelle turns to me, happiness bursting out of her face, and I push the funny feeling I have in my belly away.
My mom starts talking so quickly, my head is spinning. “First, let’s go to the toy store. Then, let’s get McDonald’s. Or, no, let’s go to one of those fancy places in SoHo! We’ll go get our hair and nails
done! Janelle, you could use some blond in your hair like me. But not Eve, her hair is too dark.” She turns to both of us, touching our faces. “God, my girls are so beautiful. Not as beautiful as me of course, but you can hope one day, maybe!”
I notice how fast her lashes are fluttering. I put my finger on my eye to feel my own lashes; do mine move like that too?
My gaze lands to a stack of books in the corner of the room, all of which I’ve read too many times. “Mama, can we also stop at the bookshop? There are so many books I want to buy!” I jump up and down a few times, unable to contain my excitement.
She swallows hard as her eyes darken, and I realize I just made a big mistake. She moves her long blond hair to one shoulder, pressing her lips together. “What does a six-year-old kid care about books, Eve? No books! Do you hear me? You can’t be filling your head with that shit. Who taught you to fuckin’ read, anyway?” She turns her body away from me, focusing on my sister. “Janelle, was it you?” I drop my head, fingering the holes in my leggings.
“No, Mama. She taught herself,” Janelle replies in a quiet voice.
“Eve, what you trying to be, huh? I refuse to raise an uppity girl,” she huffs. “You think you’re better than everyone else around you? You think you deserve more? You’d leave this place behind without a second thought if you could, huh?” I stay quiet, not sure what I’m supposed to say. Wanting more, or better, than this isn’t a good thing.
After a few moments of silence, I look up at Janelle, terrified I may have angered our mom badly enough to ruin our day. She gives me a tiny head nod and I finally bring my eyes back to my mother.
“Well. You got anything to say for yourself, Doctor Eve?” She laughs. I keep my mouth shut. Being a doctor isn’t a good thing.
Rising (Vincent and Eve Book 1) Page 2