I sank to the floor because I didn't trust my knees to support me. My mind churned to analyze what I was feeling. All the evidence kept pointing to an answer, but I was afraid to accept it. How could such a little gesture invoke such a frightening self-discovery? I really was a fool. I'd probably known all along. Why was I so terrified?
The answer was simple and vastly complicated. I loved her.
I don't know how long I sat there before the sound of a door being slammed brought me out of my trance. I got to my feet and returned somewhat drunkenly to the living room. I looked around with a scowl.
"Anabel?"
The smell of burning eggs wafted over me and I rushed into the kitchen to remove them from the burner.
What the hell?
Thinking that maybe she was in the bathroom, I dumped the skillet in the sink and spun on my heel to investigate.
My eyes dropped to the counter as I passed, spotting my phone and a piece of paper underneath. Relieved, I brushed the phone aside and picked up the note. There were only two words.
Sarah called
The roof fell in on me and for a second, just for a second, I thought I might piss myself. Holy fucking shit!! The note floated in the air behind me as I screamed from a standstill to collide with the window, frantically looking up and down the street. I caught sight of a figure turning the corner almost a block away and I stupidly pounded on the glass.
"Annie!"
I panicked, dangerously close to throwing an unproductive conniption fit. Instead, I ran to the door, pausing long enough to pull on a pair of sneakers before yanking it open and flying down the steps. I was halfway up the block when I realized that I was running through the snow in my underwear. I didn't let it stop me and I threw an arm over my chest so I could pour on the speed. I rounded the corner and found her standing next to the curb half a block up.
"Annie!"
She turned at the sound and stomped her foot angrily. I closed the distance between us, finally grinding to a stop in front of her and gasping for breath.
"Annie," I wheezed. "It isn't what you think."
"Then what is it, Matilda?" she asked nastily, her face so red it looked close to bursting into flames.
I was in big fucking trouble and I fought to catch my breath. "It's nothing. I swear it's nothing. We just had a couple of meals together."
"Did you sleep with her?"
I blinked, my own anger threatening to rise. "I'm not slut, Annie. I told you last night I hadn't been with anyone but you in years."
To my dismay a cab appeared at the intersection. Turning the corner and heading in our direction. I talked fast. "Don't leave me, Annie. It's not that big a deal, I was just caught up in things and forgot all about her. I'll call as soon as we get home and explain that I'm with you now. I'll…"
"What makes you think you're with me now?"
The cab pulled up next to us and the driver beamed a huge smile out the window. I endeavored to ignore him.
"Aren't I?" I asked. "I want to be."
"You have a strange way of showing it."
"I'll do better, please come home with me and talk about this."
She gave me a sad look and I began to despair. "I want a girlfriend, Maddie. A partner. Give me a call if you decide that's what you want too."
She turned to get in the cab and I reached out to grab her arm as she was bending to seat herself. "Don't go, Annie. Please," I pleaded, close to bawling.
She pulled her arm out of my grasp. "Go put some clothes on, Maddie."
The door slammed shut behind her and the cab instantly pulled away, leaving me standing there in a turmoil. I watched helplessly as it disappeared from view, tears hot on my face. Finally, the cold forced me to start moving and I dragged my feet through the snow. Why hadn't I told her? I wanted to. I was a coward.
The sound of catcalls and a fast approaching car penetrated my haze of self-criticism. I turned an angry look over my shoulder, squealing in surprise and outrage as the vehicle sped by and sprayed me with a coat of freezing slush.
Motherfuckers!
I stood there in a disbelieving shock, battling between rage and bursting into tears. I didn't have anyone to vent on so I settled for tears and sniveled the rest of the way home.
"Maddie!"
I looked up to find Sophie hurrying down the stairs toward me with a horrified expression.
"Are you okay? What are you doing out here practically naked? Did you fall down? Why are you crying?" she squawked in alarm.
I gave her a look that must have been truly pathetic and she grabbed me by the arm, pulling me up the steps. "Come on, you're turning blue."
She got me inside and closed the door. "Where's the shower?"
I pointed and she dragged me across the living room, letting me go once we entered the bathroom to turn on the water. I was so cold at this point my teeth were chattering and I was shivering pretty violently. She returned, stripped me out of my undies and thrust me into the shower. The water was scalding and I shrieked, hopping around recklessly as I tried to adjust the temperature and avoid the spray.
"Gosh, Maddie," she said. "It's a good thing I invited myself over this morning. Wanna tell me what's up?"
The water had a soothing effect on both my mood and my body so without preamble, I confessed my sins. I told her everything while she listened from her supervisory perch on the bathroom counter.
"… So these assholes drive by whistling at me and splashed me with road sludge and…" I broke off abruptly, upset at the sound of laughter. "It wasn't funny!"
"Maddie," she soothed. "If it had been anyone else but you, you would've thought it was hilarious."
"I would not."
"You forget who you're talkin' to. I've seen you swerve over two lanes to hit a puddle in front of somebody and still be laughing about it an hour later."
I refrained from comment and wisely chose to change the subject. "Anyway, what should I do?"
"Nothing."
"Huh?"
"You shouldn't do anything."
I struggled with myself. "I always do nothing. I wait for everything to be okay and it never is. I don't want to do that this time."
"Good."
"She's really upset, Sophie."
"She told you to give her a call so she hasn't given up on you yet. If you want what she wants, I'm sure everything will work out. Do you want her?"
"Yeah," I said softly, hesitating to say it out loud. "I love her."
"Do you?"
I turned off the water and stepped out to catch the towel flung at me. "Yes."
"Does she know?"
"I haven't told her."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm a chickenshit."
"Truer words were never spoken."
I sighed. "Why do you say that?"
"You never told me, Maddie."
I froze. "Would it have made a difference?"
"Yes and no."
I wrapped the towel around me. "How?"
She fidgeted a little. "I knew you loved me, Maddie. But I didn't know the way you loved me. You never said anything or did anything that led me to believe it was any different from the way I loved you."
"And if I had?"
"If I had known, I would've handled the situation with a lot more sensitivity than I did. Sometimes I think if I had known earlier, I wouldn't have lost you for so long. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. It broke my heart to know that I had broken yours."
I sniffled and brought up a hand to wipe at my eyes. "I'm such a loser."
"You are not."
"Then what's my problem?"
"You have delicate heart that you're afraid to use."
I chewed on that carefully. "Maybe."
"No maybe about it. The heart afraid of breaking, never learns to dance," she said with a sagely, knowing smile.
I shuffled my feet uncomfortably. "So how is doing nothing gonna get her back?"
"Because she hasn't left you, she's j
ust pissed at you. Besides, I'm going to pop in and rent a movie this evening."
I started to smile, but it faded. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
"She asked me about you last night. She wasn't thrilled."
She rolled her eyes. "How do girls sleep with one another and deal with all the head games and dramatics?"
I chuckled.
"I'll go see her anyway," she said, hopping off the counter. "Go get dressed, I'll call you later and tell you how it went."
"Okay."
She pecked me on the cheek and sashayed out of the room without a backward glance. I couldn't help but chastise myself for being such an ass. I'd been without her for so long that I'd forgotten what it was like to have a best friend. I'd missed her more than I thought possible. I was so lucky.
II
I stepped outside, fully dressed, an hour later with a destination in mind. A call to Merchant had provided me with a name, a social security number, and an address. The address was six years old, but I didn't have anything else to go on at the moment. Besides, having something to do would hopefully keep me from fretting over recent developments. I also thought it might be a good time to pop in on the Frank Brothers and return Robby's revolver.
It took me forty-five minutes to arrive in the projects, the roads were crapped up with snow and it was beginning to fall again. Not a nice neighborhood to visit, especially for a dead sexy little thing like me. I hooked my ID over my belt and rearranged my gun so it could be easily seen. I hated the projects. People deserved better than to rot in a crime-infested hellhole where dignity was the last thing you were allowed to have. But what could you do? Liberal policy, although resplendent with good intentions, always led to corruption and tragedy.
The apartment I was looking for was in one of two fifteen-story buildings that never had a functioning elevator and was home, for the most part, to gangs, dealers, and various other lowlifes. Unfortunately, I needed to get to the eleventh floor. That meant traveling up a stairwell usually populated with human trash. I got out of the car, took a deep breath, and made my way to the entrance.
The lobby, smelling of urine and vomit, was tastefully decorated with an overdose of gangsta graffiti. There were a variety of characters hanging about and I drew their immediate attention. I ignored them and walked across the room to enter the stairwell. I hoped no one attempted to confront me for it would be violent. It was the only way to deal with those brave enough to figure for me a cop and not give a shit. Bust one of them hard enough, the others would know better. In most cases, that is. I didn't want to think about the alternative.
As expected, the stairwell was crowded, more so than expected. The weather had probably forced a good many of them indoors. I doubt most of them actually lived in the building; it was just a good place to get high or drunk in a warm location where the police wouldn't normally harass you. The majority were already in various states of catatonia from their intoxicant of choice and barely noticed my passing, if at all. The others eyed me cautiously, guessing me for the heat and not liking it.
The closer I got to the eleventh floor, the more uncomfortable I became. If I got in trouble, I'd have nowhere to run. I was surrounded. I wish I had called Joey and asked for an escort, he'd have a shit fit if he knew I was alone in here.
I was approaching the ninth floor when I knew my little quest wasn't going to be eventless. Standing on the next landing, looking down at me with cruel smiles, were three Hispanic guys decked out in gang regalia. I halted halfway up and leveled an indifferent look at the one in the lead.
"Hey, chica," he said. "Where you headed?"
"Fifteen."
"To get past us you'll have to blow me, and my friends on thirteen will probably want to fuck you."
"I can live with that."
He smiled and his friends started laughing. "Come on up."
I moved forward, stopping two steps below him and within arms reach. My eyes rose to meet his expectantly.
"After me, you do them, okay?" he asked, gesturing to his goons.
"Okay," I said, giving him what I hoped was a wanton smile.
He unzipped his fly and I almost chuckled. These guys were as dumb as the day is long. They'd end up dead or in jail before they turned twenty-five. If they were smart, they would've just rushed me.
"You like it?"
I dropped my eyes and raised an eyebrow. "What am I supposed to do with that, pick my teeth?"
Before he could register my remark, I grabbed his cock and yanked him forward, stepping to the side as he took a dive down the stairs behind me. My gun came out the second he tumbled past, and I used it to strike the closest of his stunned friends across the bridge of the nose. It was like popping a small water balloon filled with blood and he fell to the floor gurgling. The remaining clown found himself staring at the business end of my roscoe.
"Hands on your head, sit on the floor, back against the wall and spread your legs," I ordered, my voice low to convey intolerance.
He complied and I took a step back to get some power into my kick. He screamed when my foot sank past the toes into his crotch and he fell over on his side, no longer a threat. I turned a look down the stairwell to see my dickless friend unconscious on the next landing. I wiped my hand on my pant leg, must've been a pretty bad fall.
I turned my attention to the one with a broken face. "You don't want me to see you when I come back down. Understand?"
He gave me a nod, his legs writhing on the floor as he dealt with his pain. I presented them with my back and continued up the stairs. I arrived on eleven without further incident and wandered around for a minute, searching for a door that actually had a number on it. I found one that was close, and counted my way to what I guessed to be the right one. I stepped to the right of the door and extended a hand to knock.
"Who is it?" said a man with a deep voice.
"Police!"
Surprisingly, the door opened a second later and I stepped into view.
He was big man, but clean cut. "What do you want?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, is this apartment 1017?"
"Yeah."
"Does a Monica Brentwood live here?"
"Never heard of her."
I sighed. "How long have you been in this apartment?"
"Almost a year now. An old lady was here before me."
"Thank you. I'm sorry I disturbed you."
"Yeah, okay," he said suspiciously, keeping a wary eye on me until the door closed.
Disappointed, I walked a few steps down the hall, whipped out my phone and dialed Billy's number.
"Winters."
"Billy, run a name and social security number for me."
"Alright, hold on," he said, and I waited a few seconds. "Okay, shoot."
I gave him the info.
"Who is she?"
"Supposedly a friend of Tish Binkowski's."
"I'm in a rush, Maddie. I'll run it and get back to you."
"That's fine."
"See ya, kiddo."
"See ya."
I put the phone back in my jacket and braced myself for the trip downstairs. I hated running into dead ends and I'd been doing it a lot lately. I was due a break.
----------
It wasn't too far of a jaunt from the projects to the Frank establishment so I was knocking on the club door half an hour later. The slot popped open and eyes stared out at me. They weren't the same ones I'd previously encountered.
"What do you want?"
"Tell the Franks that Maddie Ledoux would like to see them."
The slot slammed shut without a word and I spent five minutes standing in the snow before the door opened. I walked in without comment and headed for the dance floor. Kind of eerie, it was like they hadn't moved since the last time I saw them.
This time, they smiled as I sat down and I pulled the revolver from my jacket, sliding it across the table. "Thanks, Robby."
"I guess I'm in the clear?"
"Yep."
"Wanna drink?" Bobby asked.
"No, thanks. But I'd like to ask a question?"
"Private question?"
"Nothing indiscreet."
"Let's hear it."
"If I were looking for a smalltime pimp that probably worked the projects five or six years ago, who would come to mind?"
"Most of the hookin' done in the projects is solo. They don't have pimps. Are you looking for anyone in particular?"
"Not really sure. You know a Monica Brentwood?"
They both shook their heads, but the slut next to Robby sparked slightly. I turned my attention on her. "You know that name?"
She nodded.
"Do you know where I can find her?"
She looked uneasy, shooting a quick glance at the Franks. "I haven't seen her in a few years."
"Did she have a pimp?"
"She used to work for Clarice."
"Who's Clarice?"
Bobby spoke up. "I've heard she runs a pretty classy escort service on the west side nowadays."
Inspiration struck and I pulled Tish's photograph from my jacket and slid it in the shank’s direction. "Do you know her?"
She looked at it for a minute and shook her head. "No."
"How long ago did Monica work for Clarice?"
"Four, maybe five years ago."
I looked at Bobby again. "Does Clarice service clients?"
"She used to, I don't know anymore."
"How would I find her?"
"I could probably run you down an address or a phone number. Give me a few to make some calls?"
"You bet."
"Do you know her last name?"
He shook his head and I looked to the ho. "How about you?"
"Sorry."
Bobby rose and vanished through a door in the wall. I reached for my phone and it rang in my hand.
"Ledoux."
"I found your gal," Billy said.
"That was way too fast. Please tell me she's not dead."
"Nope, she's in prison downstate."
"No kidding?"
"No kidding, I've already spoken to the Warden. They'll be expecting you."
Stories by Kiera Dellacroix Page 94