by Dani Wyatt
“Okay, so that’s the situation. What’s the plan?”
I bite into my bottom lip, shaking on a breath because I’m not sure yet the best course of action. Which is not my usual. Ginger’s scent is with me even now, the music of her laughter, the connection I feel with her aches inside of me.
“I’ve got no fucking idea.” I admit, closing my eyes and drawing a deep breath. “He’s got no home base. I’ve sent the photo of his car to Sarah, but I’m not hopeful any of our contacts will know anything. His last hitch he had an affair with a mother and daughter. Both married to Vegas mob bosses and they are not known for their forgiveness. Got the daughter pregnant, then the they found out he was stinging them both. Took them for a good million and a half in less than a month before it all came out and the bosses clearly decided his heart didn’t need to beat anymore.
“He’s smart but he’s human. He’s got a weakness somewhere. Something else he wants...”
“What the fuck did he want?” George’s query is topped with irritation, as though I should have anticipated this. “I mean, apart from the impossible setup for his new life.”
He’s right. Maybe I should have anticipated something like this. My game is off, it’s true. Ginger made me vulnerable and I’ve put us all in danger because of it.
“It’s not about the new identity. Not really. I know people like him and there’s only one thing he wants. He wants to win.”
“Win what?”
“He needs to feel powerful. Needs to feel he’s on top. He refused my package because he felt it was beneath him. Fuck though, none of that helps me find her. None of it helps me know where she is.”
I’ve always used my intellect. My strategic skills to manage situations.
For the first time, all I see is red. All I want is blood.
I lean back in my chair, arms straight, gripping the edge of the desktop and shaking my head, when my cell phone starts to buzz.
Sarah.
In an instant, I’ve got it pressed to my ear. “Talk to me. What have you got?”
“Not much.” Sarah’s voice is strained.
She hasn’t met Ginger, not yet, but I’ve talked about her. I know Sarah well, she’s smart and tough but she’s also compassionate and she cares about me like a big sister. I guess she was starting to think of Ginger as a daughter-to-be, and this shit has shaken her as much as any of us.
“I’ll keep the details out of it, but I pulled in some favors on freeway cams and put a few of Reynolds’ other guys watching the videos about the time the car would have been headed out of the city. They pulled major freeway footage at the on ramps closest to the house. They got lucky and the car has been spotted heading west out of Binghamton.”
That’s the biggest city close to Windsor, NY, where my house is and where most of the major interstates intersect.
Sarah continues, “The camera video was marked about two hours ago. He’s got a good head start. The cams got a decent shot and driver basically fits Calfus’s description. There was another woman in the passenger seat, gray hair, so unless he had a wig on Ginger...couldn’t get a good shot so not sure about her. They kept watching the cams but nothing else hit so we’ve lost their exact route.” Her voice trails off and nothing more needs to be said right now.
My heart starts thrumming in my chest. Hearing Sarah talk is making the threat to my babygirl all the more real and I’m almost in full panic mode. I try to maintain my cool. I’ll need it to see this through. “Okay. Thanks.”
“I know it’s not hugely helpful.”
“No, it’s better than we’ve got right now. Prep the jet. George and I will land in that airport as close to the drop point as possible. We’ll have a few other guys with us.”
“Seating capacity is eight, Stas. The pilot won’t—”
“Yeah, well we might be overloading it. We’ll fucking stand in the cockpit if we have to.”
There’s a slight pause, as if she might argue the point, but Sarah knows better. “Consider it done.” She hangs up on the last word, knowing I don’t need any more small talk.
Turning to George, I find him staring back, waiting for what’s next.
“What is it?” He prods.
“I need you to assemble an army. All the people you know who have no interest in who’s right or wrong, they just owe you a favor. If you have any contacts in Virginia, East Ohio and Western Pennsylvania, send Calfus’s and Ginger’s picture to them and get them gathering intel. Any clue, any information. Call them all, tell them to be ready, we’ll take your guys with us on the jet. And George, when we do find him, it’s going to be wet. He’s not walking out breathing. You got that?” I swallow on a grunt.
George nods, pulling out his phone. “I’ve got a long list of guys who will help us and have no problem getting dirty. Just need a plan. Who, what, when and where. I’ve got your back, brother.”
“And one more thing,” I say, meeting his eyes. “If anything happens to her, they have to kill me too.”
T E N
Ginger
WHOEVER THIS CABIN belongs to, it’s clear that they aren’t big on maintenance. The whole place reeks of mold and animal urine. There are holes in the walls big enough for a child to crawl through, so who knows what kinds of animals have made this their outhouse.
The worn-out olive-green sofa my grandmother ordered me to sit on is right beneath one of the holes in the roof, and the sun beating down the side of my face along with the smell in here is making me feel sick. From where the sun is in the sky, I’m guessing it’s still fairly early morning.
Silly as it is, I think about my salon appointment. I should be happy I’m still alive but I’m actually disappointed I’m going to miss it. I really, really wanted that unicorn color done on my hair. And maybe straight bangs for the first time in who knows how long.
I have no idea where we are, and I have to wonder if Daddy is already looking for me. And if so, where? I’m just a very small needle in a very large haystack.
My kidnapper’s sickening scent of spicy cologne turns my stomach. Every few minutes he walks around the interior of the cabin, checking the view from the windows. Pressing a hand on the window frame and tapping that stupid red stoned pinky ring on the wood. Grandmother is sitting at the dining table, watching me with suspicion, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
The guy steps away from the window, passing Grandmother, and she grabs his arm, giving me a side glance as she leans in to whisper in his ear.
The man nods and looks at his watch before pulling out a chair at the dining table and tapping on the screen of his phone.
“So, what do we do for fun around here?” I chime in.
I’ve discerned that at least for the moment they are not going to hurt me. Therefore, pushing the limits and trying to tip them off balance and figure out what is going on doesn’t feel overly dangerous at this point.
What feels dangerous is my grandmother’s reference to Daddy’s safety as well as Romper and Geisha. Her comments made my heart clench in my chest but I know better than to let them know they are getting to me.
I’m hoping my overt cheekiness will eventually push them off balance enough to slip up and let out some kernel of information that could help end whatever this is.
Because making sure Daddy and my babies, not the vegetable plants this time, are safe is my most important mission right now. Clearly, this man is dangerous in a different way than my family is.
“Are you not even going to ask about your parents?” Grandmother snarls. “You know you’ve broken their hearts? Leaving like you did. We were sure you were dead. The police couldn’t find a trace of you. We searched. You put us all in a precarious position. Your selfishness. We gave you a wonderful life. Your grandfather provided for us all. All you had to do was continue—”
“A wonderful life?” I spit back. “Forced to live a life that had no interest in my own wants and needs? Forced to starve to fit into whatever size you decided was the right one? Fo
rced to have surgery when my stomach wasn’t flat enough or what you thought the judges wanted to see?” I push my glasses back up on my nose with my free hand.
“You’re ungrateful. Your glasses are hideous. There are millions of children who would kill for the life you had. You have no idea the hardship you put upon us when you left.” A crack in her voice surprises me.
The man continues tapping on his phone, but the half smile stays secure on his lips as I glance between him and my grandmother, trying to figure out how they tie together.
When he looks up and winks at me, a shiver runs down my spine. “Let alone the lies you’ve been told about your new benefactor,” he says, and I struggle to take in the words. What could he possibly mean? It’s me that’s lied to Stas, not the other way around.
Isn’t it?
My mind is racing, but I refuse to go down that path. He wants me confused. He wants me doubtful. I won’t play his game.
“What do you want?” I demand. “If you are going to hurt me then hurt me.” I dare to push the envelope because the fear of the unknown is greater than whatever the reality could be.
“We both want things.” Grandmother glances at the man who is again tapping his phone screen and ignoring us. “What you don’t know, what you’ve never known, is how much your grandfather loved beauty. As you know, I was Miss Virginia, and your mother a runner up, which disappointed him more than anything in the world. Then when you were born, he vowed you would be the prize. The one that would make it to Miss America. We set about creating you to be what he wanted. In turn, as long as you were on the right path, he provided for us all generously in his will. You were our job. We made you the center of everything. When you left, the executor of the estate followed his guidelines and cut off a significant portion of our financial resources. You left us suffering.”
My head spins. This has to be a joke.
There are some questions being answered for me though. For years I pressed that I hated the pageant life. I fought and negotiated, trying to get free from the pressure and chains my parents and my grandmother seemed determined to force me into.
Never did I realize that the big house, the cars, the private schools, the lifestyle we lived, all hinged on my participation in a life I found repulsive, yet my mother and grandmother seemed to adore.
It took another wakeup call, when they tried to force me yet again into surgery to correct what they saw as a ‘defect’ in my physical appearance, to make me take matters into my own hands. A boob job, laser eye surgery, an abdominal tuck and cheek implants were all planned in a single surgery.
I had just graduated from high school and they were in the full court press to get me to the big stage.
That night, I used the screwdriver I stole from the garage, unscrewed the locks on my window and practically broke my neck jumping into the pine tree outside my bedroom, with just a backpack, a few clothes, my two stuffed donkeys and hope.
Growing up, I was given a small allowance. I’d saved almost all of that money, stuffed into an opening I’d made in my toy donkeys. It was enough to get me a modest new start out in the world but not enough to set me up for life, that’s for sure.
I glance at the man, who shoves his phone back in his pocket, and catch a glint of nervousness flickering in his dead eyes.
“And what do you want?” I counter as I try to absorb my grandmother’s words, stalling to see if I can figure out how his man fits in.
He broadens his smile and places his hands flat on the small dining table, meeting my gaze as my Grandmother looks on, crossing her arms and gripping each opposing arm tightly.
“Let’s just say, I want leverage. Keeping one step ahead of your opponent is what wins the game, shall we say? And I always win the game.”
It’s counterintuitive for him to reveal even that much to me. Tells me it’s his ego that’s calling the shots here. If he was just in it for money, just in it to win, he wouldn’t need to spout off about how important winning is. This is personal, not just professional and I need to find out how to press whatever his bruise is a bit more.
“Well, thank you for that life lesson.” I answer with an eye roll. Pushing my fear deep down I decide to press forward and risk whatever consequences might follow. “So here we sit with your obtuse rhetoric and my grandmother’s history lessons while nothing is changing.” I look to my grandmother. “So, what, you want me to be Miss America? Grandpa was an asshole, you do know that, right?”
My strongest memories of my grandfather are of him berating everyone around him. My earliest recollection of him is a time when I was around five years old. He was standing there, so stern it made me cry, instructing my mother to portion out my food because baby fat no longer would be an excuse.
He was a charmer for sure.
My grandmother’s lips purse and she lowers one eyebrow. “He was a good man. A successful man, who provided for you and your family. Your own father certainly never did that. When your mother showed up pregnant, unmarried, with your...father, it was your grandfather’s benevolent nature that saved your family. You should show more respect.”
I watch as a strange look passes between the two, then he takes over the conversation.
“Okay.” The man breaks into our back and forth. “Enough. Here’s the story. You,” He nods toward me, “are going back home with your grandmother. And I will use you to be sure I get what I want from your precious Stas. It’s not much really, just need him to see things my way. He’s stubborn, as you probably know. So, you will go home and you will help me get what I want.”
“Not likely unless I’m in a body bag.” I push the limits again, biding my time, hoping Daddy somehow figures out what’s going on and rides in to save the day.
His laugh is devoid of humor. “In life, when you want to get something,” he picks at his fingernails as he speaks, “you find a weakness in your opponent. Something they care about more than themselves. You and your Stas, both have a weakness. It’s each other.. You also have a soft spot for your furry creatures. Wouldn’t want to see them suffer would you? We—” He nods towards my Grandmother. “—both have things we need. And because of some wonderful twist of fate, what we want and your weaknesses fit together like milk and cocoa. None of us will be leaving here until we both get what we want.”
The room feels colder.
His energy shifts and I wonder if my smart-ass tactics may have been the wrong move. I swallow, looking at my Grandmother to see if there is any softness there. Anything I can plead to. But I see only faded blue eyes set on the man to my right.
“So, this still doesn’t tell me what it is you want from me. I don’t have anything to give.” I glance between them. “I mean, look at me, I can’t give you a win in the Miss America pageant anymore than I can perform brain surgery. And I can’t give you Stas.”
My grandmother moves to the black bag she set on the counter. She roots around inside as I glance back and forth between my two captors.
“You have very much to give.” He runs a hand down his face, gripping his chin. “And I will extract it by whatever means necessary. Now, let me tell you a few things about your precious Stas.”
“Stas will never leave me. He will come and take me back. This is stupid.” I press, unwilling to hear any more of the propaganda.
Grandmother looks at the man who sniffs on a laugh into which there is zero humor.
“Stupid girl. Stas will not come for you. Trust me. When I say I win, I win. That means I have leverage on everyone. Including your Daddy.”
His emphasis on that last word has me frozen.
How does this stranger know so much?
“How do you know this guy?” I implore to my grandmother, hoping there is some element of sympathetic family loyalty deep down in her black soul.
Grandmother looks out the window, closing her eyes for a moment, before turning her attention back to me.
“None of your business.” Her lack of an answer is more of an answer than she k
nows. It just reinforces for me, this isn’t just about money, this is personal for everyone.
The man’s face darkens as he looks at my grandmother, but she doesn’t react. Something in his look tells me there is history here, but whatever it is, neither one is spilling right now.
I choke out a dark laugh. “Well, however you knew each other, now adding kidnapping and other various felonies to the fun, there’s got to be some payoff for everyone. I’m wondering if you two know each other. Like, biblically.” I mock, trying to push them to give me something that will help.
Grandmother stabs a finger at me as the man continues to quietly fume. I dart my own narrow eyes between them both.
“Stop it.” Grandmother spits at me, her usual stoic façade breaking. “Can’t you for once—for once—just do as your told, you spiteful little girl? Since you were a baby you’ve insisted on being a pain in the behind. Always being contrary.”
“Better than being a plastic formed Barbie doll.” I seem to have hit a nerve.
“Shut up.” The man cuts us off, his mask cracking as well, right along with his usual mocking humor. “Both of you.” His glare at my grandmother confirms some of what I’ve suspected, about there being a deeper connection somewhere down the line for the two of them. “If you want your precious Daddy to stay upright or out of the penitentiary, you’ll do as you’re told. He’s no fucking saint, by the way. And I’m not just talking about what he does for a living, either.” His hard words drive nails into my heart.
I’d do anything for Daddy. To keep him safe. But there is a part of me that aches. Whatever he’s done, it must be bad, and the betrayal of trust stabs knives into my chest.