by Lila Felix
“Yes. I have the Bronco out front.”
She grabbed her purse and I drove slowly, not trusting my state of mind to have the response time necessary for fast swirving.
“That was the girl you were taking out the other night?”
“Yeah. It was Havok.”
“Are you two, together?”
“It doesn’t matter right now. I love her, whether she loves me or not and I just want to know she’s safe.”
“She never would tell me everything. I could tell she didn’t think I could handle it all. But I knew more than she thought.”
“How?”
“I volunteer at the grief hotline when they are short staffed. She wasn’t smart enough to give a fake name. Like Havok, she put on a good front, but really she just felt stuck. She was addicted to the easy money, addicted to the drugs it bought her, addicted to the shallow affection she got from hooking. She was so back and forth all the time—almost bipolar.”
“From what I got the few times I talked to Jocelyn, she’s got trouble all right.”
Jett and Ali stood up and gave a curt wave from a glass room in the back. They were being questioned by an officer themselves. And Ali was writing down something on a yellow pad. After Camille explained who she was, we were escorted to an adjoining glass room and Camille told them everything, even gave them access to her virtual hard drive to get access to Havok’s file. She asked them if she’d get into trouble for it, but the officer told her they’d already filed for warrants.
We spent three hours in there separately, and then another hour, Jett, Ali, Camille and I all together, brainstorming and putting all of our information together.
But all the adding and subtracting in the world couldn’t help us equal an answer.
Where was Havok?
We scattered and went home, all defeated. We exchanged phone numbers outside of the police station. I brought Camille home, and she cried all the way there, her husband met me at the door and took over. I hated my apartment now. I dragged myself into the shower and took my frustration out on my skin. I was just going through the motions. I didn’t care if I was clean or not. I was back to being a zombie. I stumbled into her room, not bothering to even get dressed aside from a pair of boxers, laid down in her bed and ciphered through the details. I had to be missing something. I drifted off halfway, falling into an almost state of sleep. And then one detail blared in my head louder and brighter than the rest.
I forgot to tell them about white pants.
Was a color of pants even significant?
How many guys walk around town wearing white pants in the 21st century?
And a wine colored shirt.
And she said there was a van.
The police were going to kill me for calling again.
I dialed the number and waited, “Officer Donaldson.”
“Officer Donaldson, you’re the one working the Havok Daniels case?”
“No, that’s Donald, hold on.”
They needed to make those two work at different precincts.
“Donald,” he answered. Yes, from the gruff of his voice, I now knew I had the right person.
“Officer Donald, this is Cal Nichols. I remembered something else.”
“Yeah, yeah, tell me.”
“Wait, why are you there so late? You said you worked days.”
“Took down a big sex trafficking ring tonight. Everybody got called in. What did you remember?”
This was going to sound so stupid, “She told me the guy that took her, and the one who had watched her for days was this really sleazy guy, smoked grape or apple cigars, he had some wine colored shirt on and he was wearing white pants, all the time. I figured that’s not a regular thing, white pants.”
“White pants, huh?”
“Yeah. Like polyester, bell bottomed white pants.”
“Hold on.”
Hold on? Hold on!
“Cal. What color is Havok’s hair?”
“It’s black, black as night. Why?”
“Ok, I was wrong then. I thought I had a lead, there were a lot of girls in that bust tonight, but none of them with black hair. I will call you when I know something more. Call back if you remember anything else.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up and cussed a string of F words and shouts that would make my mother go pale.
I dialed his number again, asked for him again, “Donald.”
“It’s Cal again, officer, I’m sorry. Have you identified all the girls?”
“No, a lot of them are drugged up. Some of them are so neglected, we have to get them back to health before they’ll even be able to talk.”
“Is there any way,” I tried in vain to calm the despondence in my voice, “can I just look at the girls, see if maybe she’s there. Or maybe one of them knows her.”
He blew a breath out through his mouth, I could picture his Swedish Chef moustache moving as he did. “You can’t talk to the girls.”
“I’d never think of it.”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“I would never.”
“I could get into so much trouble for this.”
“You won’t, I swear. Come with me. If I see her, I promise I will just tell you and let you handle it.”
“Meet me at the Lafayette General in thirty minutes. Don’t make me regret this.”
I threw on clean clothes as fast as I could, shoes and headed out the door. My gut said she was there. It wretched and pulsed—it knew something was up.
Wait, he said a sex trafficking ring.
No, please God no.
She deserved so much more than a life filled with screwed up circumstances and messed up people.
Just because her name was spelled wrong, didn’t mean her whole life had to follow suit.
I woke myself up snoring. But fear kept me from opening my eyes. Over the last few days, week, I didn’t know how long it’d been—I relied on other senses to get me through. It was kinda like my closet, there were sounds and smells, but as long as I was blinded by the closed sliding door, I was safe. It was all bull shit, of course, but it was the psychosis I needed to trudge through.
I lay completely still, I smelled bleach, rubbing alcohol, and that nasty smelling cleaning stuff used at hospitals. There were no sounds, none at all—no, wait, paper, the sound of paper being moved, a newspaper, a magazine.
Please, let me be somewhere safe.
I moved my arms, something was in my right arm, damned right arm. I clenched and unclenched my fists. Breathing, someone was in the room with me.
Here goes nothing.
Come on eyeballs, work. Go, go gadget eyelids. A flutter, there they go.
“Havok?” A female voice, a familiar voice called my name—Ali.
“Ali?”
“Hey! It’s about time you woke up. Are you in pain, how do you feel?”
“Water,” I choked out.
She handed me a weird pink colored plastic cup and bent the straw and put it to my lips. I drank it all and four more cups before I even started to be sated. She was on her phone then, calling her mother. She also pushed a button on the side of me, telling someone that I was awake.
“How long?”
“How long what? Gone? You were gone for six days, and then you’ve been in here for three more. We were so worried.”
I looked down at the white gown with blue diamond patterns dancing across it. The room was empty except for her, and I had to know.
“Fade?”
She blew a breath out and looked hesitant to tell me. I’d been gone. He gave up. I knew I wasn’t worth the time, but I’d held out hope anyway. I shouldn’t have run out on him. I should’ve stayed.
“My mom’s leaving the police station, getting him and bringing him up here. He,” she was interrupted by the nurse, a cheery thing who took my temperature and blood pressure. Then she asked me thirteen million pointless questions.
“I was kidnapped, I didn’t develop dementia
.”
The nurse backed out of the room, laughing all the way.
I looked at Ali, “So Fade…”
“He snuck up here with the detective who’d been assigned to the case. He had promised to stay calm and just looked through all the girls. If he saw you, he was supposed to let the detective know.”
“But,” I hurried her up.
“But he took one look at you,” she started crying, “He lost it, Hav. He started grabbing doctors and nurses, demanding that you be cared for immediately. He completely went apeshit. At least, that’s what they said. So they handcuffed him and put him in a holding cell until he could calm down. They let him call someone to get him. He wasn’t really being charged with anything. They all understood. I mean, he’s practically been at the police station or calling them day and night since he couldn’t find you at home. He called Jett, Jett called Mom and me. Mom went to go get him after she dropped me here. She called me from the station. They said, they said he screamed for you until he completely passed out, Hav. I had no idea. He loves you so much.”
“I thought he’d move on, forget about me.”
“No, look Hav,” she held my hand. I’d never seen Ali so emotional. And I couldn’t believe it was all because of me. “We all pulled together. I know your mom sucks. She lost out on being the mother of such an amazing person. But we’re here. I’m sure Fade will explain the whole thing. But there’s more to family than blood Havok. And sometimes those who share your blood are the worst to have in your life. You’ve got a family. Mr. Randy, Mrs. Swan, me, Camille, Jett, my mom and mostly Fade.”
“Who is Camille?”
“My sister,” a decrepit voice answered me. He stood there, a shadow of the Fade I knew, leaned against the entrance waiting for permission or something.
“Havok, we’ve been so worried about you. I’m glad you’re back, safe and sound.” Mrs. Blakely hugged me—and played with my hair. “Come on Ali, let’s give these two some time. Havok, we’re just gonna be right outside, Fade, you too, if you need something just holler. Are you hungry Hav?”
“I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Fade chimed in again.
“Ok, I’ll see what they’ll let us do,” she said as she practically dragged Ali from my bedside.
Fade and I stared at each other through the dead space. I could feel the room getting bigger and bigger by the moment, pulling him, until he felt miles away. Tears welled in my eyes, and I blinked just to let them go, they blurred my vision.
“Do you want me to leave? I know you’re still angry. I know you probably hate me for lying to you. I just—I needed someone to know me for me, not for Fade.”
“And I needed someone to know me, not the sins of my mother.”
“I swear I didn’t know until you called the station and told Fade about living with Cal. I swear I didn’t. I wouldn’t have let it go on that long. It ate me alive to know you, to really know who you were and not tell you.”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Which one?”
“Do you want me here?”
I covered my mouth and nodded.
And then Fade, the idea that I’d been in adoration of for years and Cal, the man who took care of me and expected nothing in return, broke right in front of me. He walked hesitantly to the side of my bed, sat down, and smiled at me.
“I’m ok. I’ll tell you everything, every single detail, I promise. Can you just hold me?”
He situated himself beside me on the bed. I was thinner than ever, so it was no problem for us both to fit. I wasted no time curling into his chest. I listened for him tell me reassuring things, comforting words, and let his warming comfort flood over me.
“Do I call you Fade or Cal?”
He laughed and it shook the bed, “I’d rather you call me Fade. Cal always felt like a lie.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”
“Me too. From now on, no more secrets, no more lies.” He hesitated, “I’m sorry, Hav, I really am, but I have to ask you. It’s tearing me up inside to think that they…”
“No,” I sat up, tugging at his scruff. “Fortunately that was my saving grace. Apparently my virginity was a hot commodity.” I waggled my eyebrows, trying to get him to smile.
“Don’t joke, Havok.”
“I’m sorry,” I said but wasn’t giving up yet. “I thought it was your job to feed me. I’m starving.”
“I don’t want to let you go yet.”
My stomach intercepted.
“Ok, let me go tell Ali’s mom. Maybe she’s convinced the nurses to let you eat.”
He got off of the bed and stuck his head out the door, spoke to someone and then returned.
“They said you could eat liquids right now. They’re afraid anything heavier will make you sick.”
“Sure, Fade?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me everything. I can’t go first.”
So he did. He told me how many times he went by my mom’s apartment, and everywhere else. He told me about bothering the cops. Then he told me how everything was related.
“Jett is my best friend.”
“J.J.?”
He chuckled, “Yes, and there’s more. Camille is my twin sister.”
“How do I know her?”
“I’ll let you guess. Sweet as can be, pink office, too innocent for her own good, cheery as hell,”
“Mrs. Adler?”
“Bingo. And then there’s Ali. I was stupid not to put that one together sooner. There’s not too many Ali’s in the world.”
“I don’t even know where I was.”
He looked to the ceiling, like a silent plea for strength, “You were in the basement of your mom’s club. Once you were sold,” he choked on the word sold, “They were gonna take you straight to Mexico. From there, who knows.”
“You didn’t find me there, did you?”
“No, the cops did. Why? What aren’t you telling me?”
“I just—I wasn’t wearing very much. I didn’t want you to see me like that. They made me wear, well, strings really. I felt like, like my mom.”
He sat back up and held my face in his hands, “You are nothing like her, do you hear me? No matter what, you are not your mother. And you don’t need her to need you anymore.”
I looked down at the hospital gown, ashamed.
“If you need someone to need you, that’s already taken care of. I…”
He groaned as the door opened to Mrs. Blakely and Ali, carrying enough food for the whole hospital.
“Ali said we should give you a choice. So take your pick. You too, Fade. I know you haven’t been eating either.”
I looked at him, angry with him for not taking care of himself and he shrugged, “What? How could I eat not knowing if you were hungry? It didn’t feel right.”
All three girls in the room were reduced to sobs at his admittance. Fade looked to the floor and gave a pitiful shrug like it was no big deal. He had no idea. It was the biggest deal. Because in that moment I realized what real, healthy love was. It wasn’t a distorted sense of dependency. It wasn’t staying around because you couldn’t find anything better. It was worrying if they were hungry, sick, cold. It was making sure they were taken care of, whether it was by you or someone else. Real love was doing all of these things without expecting anything in return.
I’d never done the things I did for my mom because I loved her—I did it because I was afraid I’d never have anyone else.
Mrs. Blakely set up the small table next to my bed like a mini buffet. We picked at everything. All three of them took seats around the bed and we threw eating conventions and etiquette to the sidelines. There were things Fade and I weren’t saying just yet. But I longed for the day that he considered me recovered. The secrets that I’d kept for so long, they longed to be out of my head and into his. Something had shifted between us and I couldn’t figure out whe
n. But it had changed.
After everyone was thoroughly stuffed, Mrs. Blakely and Ali filed out with goodbyes and promises of seeing me the next day. I started to drift off against my will and was engulfed in Fade’s arms just in time.
“Talk to me, Fade.”
“What do you want to know,” he smoothed some hair on my head and I realized there was no more clump to smooth back from my face. Eyes shut, I reached up, starting at my temple and as I made my way around the crown of my head I began to remember my conversation with Beth. The yellow was one thing, but apparently she forgot to mention the almost Mohawk I now had or felt like I had. Fade covered my hand with his own and sniffed out a laugh.
“It’s kinda cute. Although I don’t know what the point was. You were just as beautiful before.”
“I’m not gonna ask questions. I’m just happy to be back. I just want to hear your voice.”
He pulled me closer, flush with his form, “Happy, huh? I love to hear that. Though lately I prefer the words safe and healthy. I’m just happy you’re alive and here in my arms again.”
I turned flat on my back so I could see his face. I took a moment to allow myself this moment of joy, to stroke his face, to feather my fingertips through his beard, let myself get lost in the golden wheat hue of his eyes.
“I realized something in there.”
He cringed every time I said in there.
“What did you realize?” He was reciprocating my actions, I almost got tongue-tied from the skin to skin contact, his hands on my face, on my neck.
“I was wrong. I was so wrong. I changed my mind. Remember when Jocelyn, I told Fade, you that being alive was sufficient for me?”
He nodded, I knew he remembered.
“It’s not. Alive is not enough anymore. I want life. I want normal. I want regular meals and a job I hate. I want to scoff at an awful paycheck and get out of the shadows—and someone to love who loves me back.”
He took my hand and barely brushed his lips to my knuckles, “Well, you’ve got the last one covered. As soon as you’re out of here, we’ll start working on the rest. You’ve also got some choices about that. But we can talk about it all tomorrow. You need to sleep. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long.”