Erin swallowed. "I think so."
"Then you need to get up to your room and sleep. You can't affect the other girls or my guests tonight."
Erin stood. "Yes, ma'am."
"But the park!" I cried. "We're supposed to go to the park today."
"There will be another day," Madam clipped.
"No," I pouted and crossed my arms over my chest. "I want to go today."
"What has gotten into you?" Madam hissed. "That's no way to act."
Erin cleared her throat. "I can still take her. She needs fresh air and sunlight."
"Then you'll just get her sick, and she'll get everyone else sick. I can't have that."
"Tyler can take me," I offered. He was the guard who usually went with us to the park. While Erin and I fed the ducks, he stayed behind a few feet. I was sure he could do the same, and I could feed the ducks alone. "Please? Just this once."
"Quit your whining. It's unladylike."
"But it's my day to go to the park. Please?" I begged some more. I only got to go once a week, and I didn't want to miss it. Plus, it would snow soon, and I wouldn't be able to get my day out.
"Fine," she clipped. "Have Tyler take you. And you"—she pointed a finger that was painted red at Erin—"get in your room and don't come out until you're well."
"Yes, ma'am."
Erin started to stand, and I ran past her, snatching the small bag of white bread pieces from the countertop, and then ran up the stairs in search of Tyler. I wasn't going to let this opportunity pass. I found him on the main floor in the sitting room.
"Madam said you can take me to the park."
He looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "What about Erin?"
"She's sick."
"Okay. Are you ready to go?"
"I just need to go put my shoes on."
He folded the newspaper and set it on the coffee table. "All right. I'll meet you at the elevator."
I took the main stairs two at a time one story up and then dashed to my room to get my shoes. After tying the sneakers, I rushed to the elevators.
Tyler was waiting as he'd said he would be. Why are you running?" he asked.
"I don't want Madam to change her mind." Tyler nodded at Ricardo, the guard who stood at the elevator. There was always a man there, making sure no one got out. When the elevator opened, Tyler and I walked in and took it down to the ground level. We walked to the crosswalk before crossing to go to Central Park. It was warm out, but not too hot that I was sweating. It wouldn't matter if it were muggy out, though. I needed my one day a week where I felt as though there was life outside of the house.
Walking fast, we made it to the pond, and I didn't hesitate to go to the edge of a rock and throw a small chunk of white bread into the water. The ducks started to swarm, and I smiled. Feeding the ducks was, of course, the highlight of being able to go to Central Park, but I also loved the feeling of the sunshine on my face.
"Have you seen the Mandarin duck?"
I looked to see a girl standing next to me. I thought she might be younger than me, but I wasn't sure. I'd seen kids playing in the park, but I'd never had a friend my age. "What's a Mandarin duck?"
"My mom said it was a rare duck that just appeared one day. Then he was gone, and no one knew why, but then he came back."
"What does he look like?"
"He has an orange face with white around his eyes. He also has orange feathers."
"Wow," I breathed. I looked over my shoulder to see Tyler watching me. He didn't look as though he was going to stop me from talking to this girl, so I turned my head back to her. "I haven't seen him."
"Want to go to the skating rink or the carousel?"
I blinked. "Where's that?"
She shrugged and pointed. "Over there somewhere."
"You can just go alone?"
"No. My mom will take us."
Before I knew what was happening, the girl grabbed my hand and started leading me away from the water. I looked over my shoulder again at Tyler, and his eyes widened before he took quick steps and grabbed my other arm.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
I tried to respond, but the girl beat me to it. "We're going to the carousel. Are you her dad?"
I didn't have a dad. Madam told me he died before I was born.
"No," Tyler responded, "and she can't go to the carousel."
"Why not?" the girl questioned.
"It's time to go home," Tyler stated.
"I'm not done feeding the ducks."
"Doesn't matter. It's time to go," he ordered.
The girl dropped my hand and said, "Maybe next time." I smiled at her.
Tyler led me by the arm a few feet away before dropping it. "What was that?" he asked. "You know you can't go anywhere except for the pond."
"She took my hand before I knew what was happening."
"Never go off with strangers, Zell. It's dangerous."
Was that why I wasn't allowed to see the city? Would a stranger take me away and hurt me? "I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Let's keep this between us and not do it again, yeah?"
"Okay." We walked back to the house. When we got out of the elevator onto the main floor, I looked up at Tyler. "Thank you for taking me."
"You're welcome."
I started to go up the stairs but hesitated when Madam walked into the room, her heels clicking on the wood floor. "Zell!" she snapped, and I sucked in a breath. Did she know what happened at the park?
I turned to face her. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
I swallowed. "Find out what?"
She grabbed my arm and spun me around so my back was to her. "You have blood on your pants. You got your first period." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, ma'am."
"When?"
"The other day."
She let go of me. "And you weren't going to tell me?"
"Erin and the girls took care of me. I didn't want to bother you with it."
"I'll speak to them, but do you know what this means?"
I swallowed again and shrugged. "That I can have babies."
Madam chuckled dryly. "Yes, but also, it's time for you to start working. You're a woman now."
"Working?"
"Don't worry." She cupped my cheek. "I don't mean what the other girls do—yet." Did she mean sex? "But it's time you learn how to use a mop and start cleaning up the rooms after the girls use them." She snatched the bag of bread out of my hands. "You won't need this anymore. Your days of going outside are over."
Five Years Later – Seventeen Years Old
Grabbing my messenger bag, I slung it across my chest and walked out of my bedroom. It was a typical Saturday night, and someone was having a party at one of their homes, and practically the entire school would be there. Sometimes it was at a house, or a penthouse, or an apartment, or a hotel floor that their parents owned, or a loft.
People were always asking if I was going to those parties. Not only because I was the most popular guy in school, but because I always had my stash on me, and they needed their fix. Coke, weed, uppers, downers, you name it, I could get it. It helped that my father was the most notorious drug dealer in the city. People knew to come to me, even if it was on the down-low, because my dad had trained me well.
Word on the street was you didn’t cross a Russo, and people knew not to fuck with Frank Russo Senior. It helped that my father had cops on his payroll. I didn't know how it all worked, but my dad could get out of any shady shit.
You'd think we lived in the Bronx or something because of how thug-like my father was, but we didn't. We lived on the Upper East Side on 5th Avenue in a three-bedroom apartment that overlooked Central Park. On the outside, we were like any upper-class family, but really, we ruled New York City.
Walking into the living room, Mom was sitting in her spot on the couch, her nightly martini next to her as she watched some true crime show on TV. "See ya later," I called out as I headed toward
the door.
"Have a good night, honey."
Dad was out doing whatever it was he did during the night. He owned a nightclub, but that was just a front for his real money maker. I never questioned him, though. I had learned that lesson when I was eight years old …
Mother and Father followed me into the limo. I went to my seat at the far end of the limo, loving that I could ride backward. Riding backward was my favorite, especially because my friends didn't have limos, so I was the only one who could say I could ride backward.
"We have to make a stop," Dad stated, looking at his phone.
"Why?" Mom questioned as the limo pulled away from the curb.
"Business."
"Your son is in the car."
"My son needs to learn because he'll run this business when I'm gone."
I didn't know exactly what my father did. He was some sort of businessman and people looked up to him, but that was all I knew.
"Eventually, when he's not a boy," Mother countered.
Dad shrugged. "Now, when he's a teenager, doesn't matter."
"It does matter," Mother cried. "He's too young."
"You can whine all you want, Quinn. We're making a stop, and that's final. Now, shut your fucking mouth before you become my business. Understood?"
She didn't respond to him. Instead, she leaned forward and said, "Frankie, when your father gets out of the car, I want you to put your earbuds in your ears, turn up your music, and play your game on your phone. Do you understand me?"
I nodded.
If my dad was getting out of the limo, then how would I see or know what was happening? I didn't understand, but I quickly learned because when the car pulled up to the docks, and my dad got out, I put my headphones in my ears but didn't turn on my music. I pretended to play on my phone, but then I heard a loud pop. I jumped and looked out the window. A man was lying on the ground in front of my father and other men.
My gaze moved to my mother’s. Her eyes were closed as though she didn't want to see what my father had done, but I knew. I wasn't stupid. I'd seen The Godfather and other movies I wasn't supposed to watch. My father had killed that man.
In that split second, I knew I wasn't ever going to get on his bad side.
When I was sixteen, and he asked me to start selling and join the family business, I didn't hesitate. What my father said was final, and honestly, it helped me save money for my future plans.
The driver of my town car was waiting for me at the curb when I got outside to head to the party. I'd already told him where I was going and how long I planned on staying, which wasn't long because I wasn't feeling well, but I had to go. I had to sell or my father would be pissed.
As soon as I turned eighteen and graduated from high school, I was going to go off to college and get away from my father. I didn't want to follow in his footsteps. While the money was great, I hated the added stress that came along with it. Anyone could go to a cop who wasn't on my father's payroll and turn me in. I hated not knowing who to trust, but at the same time, I had to sell, so I didn't get popped like I'd seen my father do more times than I could count since bringing me into the family business.
My driver pulled up to the curb in front of the building where the party was taking place. As I got out, making sure my messenger bag was securely around my body, the wind blew, sending a slight chill through me. It wouldn't be long before the snow would start falling, and it made me anxious about my move to California. No one knew I was leaving.
Not my friends.
Not my mother.
And definitely not my father.
"Hey, Frankie," Courtney, a sophomore, called out as she walked up to the door of the building.
"Hey, Court," I greeted back as the doorman opened the door for us, tipping his cap. It wasn't the first time there had been a party at Robbie Miller's place. In fact, it was a monthly occurrence.
Courtney and I walked into the building and up to the elevator. "Have any Molly?"
I smiled. "Of course."
"Want to do some with me?"
Even though I sold drugs, I didn't use them. I knew better than to dip into my own stash, especially because I couldn't chance getting fucked up and someone stealing from me. My father would never let me live it down, and I didn't doubt I'd be killed for my mistake. It was the same reason I didn't drink.
"Maybe after I conduct business." While Courtney was a pretty girl, I didn't want to give her false hope. If I said yes, she would follow me around. If I said no, she would probably burst into tears or something.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. We stepped inside. "That's what you said last time, and it didn't happen."
I smiled. "Business first, baby."
"Come find me after you're done," Courtney said as the elevator opened onto Robbie's floor.
I stepped out of the lift. "Yeah." I wasn't necessarily going to do that. I would see how the night turned out.
Handshakes were given as I made my way around, drinking a soda that people assumed had alcohol mixed with it. I sold a good amount of my stash and decided to leave. As I waited for the elevator, the music blaring as though we were in a nightclub, my gaze landed on Courtney's again. "Fuck," I groaned under my breath.
"I thought you were going to come find me?" She ran a finger down my arm.
"I got a call and need to go make another stop," I lied.
"Oh really?" She pouted. "Are you coming back?"
I turned to tell her that I wasn't, but then had a change of heart. While I wanted to go home, I would sleep a lot better after a good workout and blowing my load. "Actually, Court, let's do this."
I grabbed her hand and led her to Robbie's bedroom, which was vacant. I locked the door, and we got down to business—a different kind of business.
A few weeks later, I turned eighteen. I had been counting down the days, and now I was finally an adult. The problem was that I still had a few more months of my senior year, but then I was going to UCLA and getting far away from Frank Russo. I was going to live my life and not one that he dictated for me.
A knock sounded, and I rolled to face the door. "Yeah?"
Mom walked in. "Happy birthday, honey."
"Thanks." I smiled.
"Your father wants you to meet him in his office when you wake up."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I think he wants to wish you a happy birthday."
"Right." I didn't think that was the reason. My dad wasn't really a lovey-dovey type of person. For the last four years, I hadn't gotten so much as a card from him on my birthday. It was always business, and that was why I didn't tell him or my mother that I got into UCLA. I was just going to disappear. I would eventually tell my mother where I was because she would worry, but I was going to wait until I was on the West Coast.
"Maggie is making your favorite for breakfast: peanut butter stuffed french toast." Maggie was our housekeeper. My mother didn't cook or clean.
My stomach growled at the news. "Great. I'll be right out."
Mom shut the door, and I got out of bed, stepping into a pair of gray sweats and slipping on a Yankees T-shirt. Deciding to get the meeting with my father over with, I stopped by his office on the way to the kitchen. The dark wood door was closed, so I knocked.
"Enter."
I rolled my blue eyes as I turned the knob. I entered the room that smelled of leather and cigars. "You wanted to see me."
He stood and rounded the desk, opening his arms. "Happy birthday, Son."
I blinked, and my arms opened on their own. "Uh, thanks."
"Sit." He motioned to the mid-back leather chairs in front of his heavy wood desk. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that Maggie was making breakfast, and I was starving, but I knew better than to talk back to my father, so I sat. He went back and sat in his chair, placing his clasped hands on top of his desk. "How does it feel to be eighteen?"
I grunted. "Same as seventeen."
He chuckled. "That will change as you
get older." I nodded, not sure what to say. He continued after a brief pause, "Tonight, I have plans for you."
I swallowed. "What kind of plans?"
A sinister smile spread across his face. "Tonight, you're becoming a man."
Present Day – Seventeen Years Old
For the past five years, I hadn't been on the ground level. When I had a toothache, a dentist had to come to the penthouse to help me, and when I had strep throat, a doctor had to make a house call.
Madam wouldn't let me leave.
I didn't understand why, and no one would tell me anything. I thought it was because everyone was scared of Madam. One night, Bev disappeared, and the only thing we knew was that she had pissed off Madam, and then Bev was gone. I wasn't even sure how Bev made Madam upset because the only time I was allowed on the main level was when I had to clean the rooms.
When I was younger, I hadn’t realized that the girls had to entertain men more than once a month. I had thought it was just when Madam had parties. But once I was in charge of cleaning the rooms, I realized that I was wrong. It seemed to be a revolving door. It affected my schooling with Erin, and sometimes we would have to stay up late in her room to complete the course work for the day because she didn't want me to fall behind. She wanted me to be smart, so when I was able to leave, I would make it on my own.
Putting a fitted white sheet onto one of the queen-sized beds on the main floor, I paused when I heard the clicking of heels coming down the hall. Madam no longer treated me as her daughter—though she never really had. I’d become just another one of the girls. I still wasn't allowed to have anything in my room except my paint supplies, music, and the books I borrowed from the girls. I would take the books from their rooms when I visited them for girl talk, and I always returned them within a day or two when I was done reading them.
The first book I ever took was from Leanne. I thought it would be like Cannery Row by John Steinbeck, one of the books Erin had me read for my schooling, which reminded me of how the girls and I lived with men coming and going for sex. That was when I realized that Madam ran a brothel, and the men paid for sex. At least, I assumed Madam was paid. The girls had told me that they didn't get any money, just gifts from the men like books, candy, and flowers. The book I stole from Leanne opened my eyes to what went on behind closed doors and why I heard a lot of moans and groans. The book also gave me hope that one day I would find a man who would fall in love with me and whisk me away to live happily ever after. All of the books that I borrowed from the girls ended that way.
Lock: A Dark Retelling Page 2