BABY FOR A PRICE

by Kathryn Thomas

  I arrived back at my apartment, and when I let myself in, I found Lily already waiting for me. I sometimes forgot she had a key - it made sense since she was my best friend and my assistant manager - but at that moment, all I wanted to do was give her a giant hug and thank her for being there for me when something like this had gone down.

  “Are you alright?” She was pacing around my studio apartment, up and down the edge of the bed when I walked in and hurried over to me as soon as I got through the door. “What happened?”

  I filled her in quickly on the details: the men, the masked stranger, and the police. The words came tumbling out of me as if they had been aching to escape since I called her. I took deep, shaky breaths like I was a kid recounting some twisted version of his first day of school, too excited to slow down and speak properly. It felt as though if I could get the words out quickly enough, I wouldn’t have to sit here with the burden of it any longer.

  She sat quietly as I spoke, but I could tell she was fuming internally - she wasn’t very good at keeping her emotions hidden, one of the things that made her a formidable manager to have on my side. When I was done, she reached into her bag, wandered through to the kitchen, and poured us both a glass of wine from the bottle she’d bought with her. She came back through, sat down at my feet, and handed me a glass.

  “Are you okay?” she murmured, placing a hand on my knee.

  “I think I am,” I admitted. “Honestly, after what happened with… Lia, part of me was glad to see them…”

  “I know, I know,” she squeezed my leg comfortingly. That was one of the good things about having her as a best friend; she knew exactly what I was going through at that moment because she knew enough about my past and my history with this sort of thing to get me through it. She and I had drifted apart a bit during the stuff that was going down with Lia because all my time and energy was focused on putting my sister back together in any way I could. But she was the first person I called when I found out the worst had happened, and she was there for me. She still didn’t know even half of the full story. For some reason, even though we told each other everything, the thought of spilling those beans to her was just too much. She knew about the rape, the treatment, and the suicide, but everything else was too raw and personally painful to hand over to someone else. The thought of the person I loved most in the world- Lily - looking at me with sympathy and sadness scared me shitless. I didn’t want to be a tragedy to her.

  I let out a sigh and took a long sip from the glass of wine. It was a decent Sancerre, courtesy of Lily’s past as a sommelier. Lily was happy to sit in silence; I knew she understood what I was going through. She too had her problems with men in the past - an abusive high school boyfriend- so she was just as hardened as I was when it came to stuff like this. She didn’t want to sit here and cry with me, to make me feel emotions that I would never feel. We’d shared so much that we knew what the other needed at any given point in time, a bonus when it was busy at the restaurant and we couldn’t communicate with each other using words.

  I was surprised at how little emotion I felt towards the evening. I could still bring to mind how I felt when it was all happening - the fear, the panic, and how frozen with terror I was. But at that moment, I didn’t feel much of anything at all. Maybe there was something wrong with me or maybe I was just dealing with it in my own specific way. Whatever it was, I was glad to have Lily there. Glad to have her dealing with it so calmly, not pushing for a reaction or some explosion of emotion from me.

  I didn’t cry. I thought I would as soon as I was out of the police station, but I didn’t even feel close to it. And neither did Lily. We just sat and drank wine, and did our best to comfort each other without saying much. All with the knowledge that we would have to go back to reality tomorrow.

  Chapter Four

  So, I had done a little research. I knew I probably shouldn’t have, but I had to know that she was okay. I was being forward, I got that, but she was hanging out at the back of my head as I lay in bed after I got home that evening, and I needed to convince myself that she was as fine as she had seemed when I left her. I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t know how long those guys had her pinned against that wall, how far they’d gone with her. She looked in okay shape when I left, but you could never be sure - and fuck it, she was probably pretty shaken up by what happened. Who wouldn’t be?

  Plus, I had to admit that our kiss was playing at the back of my mind perhaps more than it should have been. Not that I was complaining.

  It didn’t take long to find out who she was. She had a distinctive beauty mark above her lip, and I noticed that she was wearing some kind of uniform. A few minutes of internet research later, and I had found a picture of her standing, beaming, outside her first restaurant when it opened. It was only a few blocks away from where the attack had happened- she must have been coming home from work. I waited until the lunch rush was over, and made my way down, putting on a shirt and tie so I wouldn’t look too out of place in such a classy establishment. Well, I didn’t know anything about it, if I was being honest, but I wanted her to think of me as classy, and that was what mattered. If I had done my job properly, it would be as if we were meeting for the first time. My mind jumped ahead, and I wondered when was the appropriate time on the dating scale to bring that up. And then I had to scold myself for getting pathetically ahead of myself.

  It had been a while since I’d last dated seriously. Who was it? Saffron? No, it couldn’t be her - there had to be someone else. I racked my brains. I could remember hook-ups fine, but no one I’d been in anything close to love with. But then, I wasn’t really the dating type. My past pretty much precluded me from that, after all. What woman wanted to end up with a guy who couldn’t ever tell her what he used to do for a living? That was all this was, I told myself - I was getting all puppy love with this woman because I could project all those unrealized romantic encounters on to her because I hadn’t fucked anything up with her yet.

  It was a nice place; rustic Italian décor that didn’t feel too forced, a pretty maître’ d’ who sat me down only a few minutes after I arrived, and a menu oozing with classic Italian cuisine that made my mouth water. I ordered a Caprese salad to start along with a glass of wine and sat back in my seat to take the place in.

  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Was she just going to wander out, spot me, come over and tell me everything that had happened the night before? I knew I was being more than a little ridiculous. But still, if the restaurant was up and running, that suggested that she had come in, which was a relief.

  Because, as I’d laid in bed and thought about what had happened the night before, I couldn’t shake one thought in particular. Those two men - they hadn’t just been normal pieces of shit. I could smell one of them a mile off. They weren’t just opportunists who saw a woman walking home alone and decided to take advantage of it in the worst way they could possibly think off. No, there were knives, there were masks - this was something specific, I was sure of it. They had chosen her for a reason, and I was determined to find out why. Because, if I didn’t know better, I would say they were from the Marinos’, one of the crime families I used to do a lot of work for. And, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why they might be interested in a woman like her.

  I was snapped out of my reverie when I saw someone approaching with my food out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and froze. It was her. Fucking hell, I wasn’t prepared for this.

  She offered me a dazzling smile as she came out, and I had to admit she looked gorgeous. She was wearing a well-fitted pale blue blouse and pants that hugged her generous hips in just the right way. Her dark brown hair was swept off her face and into a bun, and her light blue eyes were outlined with a hint of kohl. I blinked at her for a moment, dumbstruck, before I was able to pull myself together. I sat up straight and smiled back at her. But as she approached, her facial expression changed.

  The smile wilted on her face, and her eyes glazed over as if she
was groping around in her memory for something she couldn’t quite remember. She placed the plate down in front of me, and briskly stood back up.

  “Looks good,” I commented, picking up my knife and fork. I wasn’t sure whether I was directing the comment at the food or at her. It was meant to be an offhand remark, but she continued to linger over me. Shit, had she recognized me? I glanced up at her again briefly, trying to read for a reaction, but came up blank. She was keeping her emotions carefully in check - impressive, considering what had happened the night before.

  “I haven’t seen you in here before,” she said, with an edge of coolness. It was clear that she was doing her best to hold back on giving anything away, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. She’d been through some shit the night before, and frankly, I was stunned that she was back at work already. Had to respect her for that. Getting up this morning had been tough for me, and I used to do shit like that for a living.

  “Yeah, I don’t come around this part of town much.” I shrugged. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Hell, I had only seen her last night because I had been picking up a bottle of whiskey from a special place I liked to get it from. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been there at all. “Saw this place and thought, why not?”

  “Well, enjoy your meal,” she replied, eyeing me for another second before she backed away. I tucked in but kept half an eye on her as she went behind the bar and started sorting glasses. She would shoot occasional looks over at me, clearly trying to figure out what had triggered her memory like that.

  I felt like I was playing with fire here. She seemed perceptive, and she definitely recognized me. How long would it be until she figured out where she knew me from? I knew that I should be getting out of there as soon as I could, that I shouldn’t be pushing my luck by hanging around. Who knew what she had told the cops last night? Maybe they’d predicted that I would come back to check on her, thought I would play the hero and take advantage of my good deed. Maybe she had them on speed dial, and they were on their way over here as I ate. But even though I understood that I should have done nothing more than check in on her and then get out, something was compelling me to stay - and it wasn’t just my lunch.

  The food was good, and I finished it off in no time, along with my wine. I savored the last drop, deliberately not looking at her too closely. I didn’t want her to think that I was here for her; she was smart, and it wouldn’t take her long to put the pieces together if she thought I was stopping by to see her. But still, I wasn’t quite ready to go yet, so I wandered back over to the bar and caught her eye. She jumped a little when she turned around and saw me standing there, but quickly smoothed out her shocked expression and offered me a smile.

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  “Another glass of Sancerre, please.” I leaned up against the polished wood countertop. She nodded and went to pour from the bottle under the counter, but as she did so, I noticed that her hands were shaking. I felt a lance of sadness at the sight of it. I had forgotten just how bad normal people took attacks like the one she had experienced last night. For me, and people in my line of work, that kind of thing was just another day on the job. But despite her calm exterior, it was clear that this had really affected her.

  “Are you okay?” I asked gently. She finished pouring and set the glass down in front of me, meeting my gaze with her chin slightly lifted as if she was challenging me.

  “I’m fine, just had a bit of a run-in last night with some guys,” she replied. Her eyes were still fixed on mine, waiting for me to react. She was playing me, trying to figure out what I knew.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I answered, being careful. I took a sip of my wine before continuing. “What happened?”

  “A couple of guys attacked me, tried to assault me, but then some guy appeared out of nowhere and killed them both,” she shot back. Her tone was measured and calm, despite what she was saying. I cocked an eyebrow, feigning surprise.

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Sorry for being so forward, you just looked like someone who could handle news like that.” Her gaze didn’t falter as she spoke, leaning up on the counter so we were only a matter of inches apart. She really was beautiful - the kind of aloof, devastating gorgeousness that men would battle for. I shrugged.

  “That’s okay, I don’t mind,” I replied. She was right; that kind of news really didn’t upset me much. Generally, a story about how someone had died usually ended with me being handed an envelope of money, so my response was at worst neutral. After standing there for another few seconds, examining me, she stood back up and seemed to have snapped out of her reverie.

  “I’ll get you some appetizers, on the house,” she offered. “Something to go with your wine.”

  “Sounds good.” I watched as she made her way into the kitchen, vanishing from sight and leaving me alone at the bar. Well, I was glad to see that she was okay, but I couldn’t help but wonder if she was telling me everything that had happened because she had figured out who I was. She seemed clever and brazen, and there was no reason to think that she wouldn’t have picked up on something about me - the tone of my voice, the little bit of my face she could make out between the mask and the darkness that surrounded us. Was she testing me with all her questions and comments? Probably. But until she came out and asked me outright, I would keep my mouth shut, and maybe sneak in a few more visits to her restaurant to enjoy the delicious food. I took another sip of my wine, savoring the clean taste as it hit my tongue, and stared at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I wondered what this face meant to her… if it meant anything at all.

  Chapter Five

  As I prepared a small plate of antipasti in the kitchen, something nagged at me. His voice - it was familiar. Or was it something else? His mouth, maybe, or the pitch in the way he spoke? Whatever it was, I couldn’t put my finger on it, and it was bothering me. All I knew was that he had taken the news of what had happened last night with the kind of cool, calm removal that I would expect from someone who had the ability to kill two guys without thinking twice.

  But why would he have come here? Maybe he was checking up on me, something like that. Maybe he expected some kind of repayment? I had kissed him, after all. Yes, it was in the heat of the moment, but perhaps he thought that I was promising him something more, and now he was here to collect. I felt a small flutter in my stomach - yes, he would have been gross to think that, and I would be disgusted if that was why he was here, but he was handsome. With no mask on, he could show off his hazel, almond-shaped eyes, his strong nose, and high cheekbones. He looked far too… refined to possibly be the kind of man who could inflict that damage on a pair of thugs. My head was spinning. I had no idea if it was him, and if it was, what the hell might he want? Or, maybe he just wanted to fuck with me. Maybe this was how he got his kicks.

  Or maybe… he just wanted to see that I was alright, that the events of the previous night hadn’t shaken me too badly. Yeah, he could just as easily be here because he wanted to be certain that I hadn’t called the cops and identified him, but he seemed far too relaxed for that to be a possibility. Perhaps he was actually just a good Samaritan, come to make sure that I had made it out okay? I guess I had been burned too often in the past to think that there were actually truly decent people out there, people who would do good for no other reason that because they felt like they should. I looked down at his food absentmindedly for a second before remembering why I plated it up and shook myself out of my stupor. I couldn’t be looking at everyone who came in here sideways just because they sort of fitted the profile I’d made for the man who saved me that night. If one thing was for certain, I needed to stop overthinking this. If he turned out to be a regular customer, I’d probably scared him away by now anyway.

  I cleaned the plate quickly and took it back out to the bar. It was a quiet afternoon, so I had the time to dedicate to him. I placed the food down in front of him, and he dug in, biting into the stuffed olives and washing them down
with a sip of wine.

  He must have known that the food was just a ploy to keep him around - he had already eaten, after all. And as soon as he walked out of that door, there was no guarantee that he would come back. I might never see him again. I, at least, needed more time to figure out what was going on, whether or not he had been the one to save me. I eyed him for a few seconds longer, wracking my brains for something to say to keep him around that wouldn’t come across as if I was flirting with him.

  “A free meal,” I blurted out without thinking, and he glanced up, his mouth full. He cocked an eyebrow at me as he chewed and swallowed.

  “What?”

  “Um, you’ve won a free meal. Every… thousandth customer of the month gets a free meal, on the house,” I burbled, filling in the details as quickly as I could. “I just checked, and you’re our thousandth customer this month. So, uh, congratulations!”

  His eyebrow remained up as he looked back at me, appearing skeptical.

  “That sounds great.” He shrugged. “When do I come in to get my prize?”

  “Tonight,” I replied. “By yourself. It’s only good for one person.”