Strings

by Dickson, Allison M.

  “I appreciate your offer,” Nina said. “I would like to think about it, though.” She had no intention of doing any such thing, but she wanted to divert the issue for now and hopefully keep her fingernails.

  The Madam leaned forward, the sleeves of her black satin robe pooling on the old-fashioned blotter like ink. “I know you hear what I’m saying, but I don’t think you’re listening. I have a reputation for turning wayward young girls into whores, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I save them. I saved you. Victor Cassini’s men brought you here with enough Peruvian flake up your nose to powder a dozen donuts if you sneezed, and you had a debt that would make a Wall Street banker blush. Now look at you. You’re off the drugs. You’ve never looked better, and after just a few years, you’ve earned enough to satisfy the most ruthless mobster on the East Coast who had every right to kill you for what you did, and all you had to do was lie on your back and work what the Lord gave you. Out there,” she waved an alabaster hand at the window behind her, “you’re on your own. If you get into trouble again, I won’t be able to take you back. Once you’re out, you’re out. I’m a one-time deal, and the girls here know it. It’s why most of them haven’t left.”

  The Madam pulled a cigarette out of the silver case on her desk and lit it. The self-satisfied bliss on her face as she took the first drag reminded Nina of a john soaking in the sweaty afterglow of his conquest while his freshly shed condom lay between them like a deflated fish.

  That image, seen so many times over the years in so many variations, galvanized Nina’s original decision to leave. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, and the mercies you’ve given. I’m grateful to be alive, most of all, and I owe that to you.” Bile burned the back of her throat as she said those words, but they would pacify the horrible bitch, and that’s all Nina wanted. “But I have to go home. My mother is unwell, and she is waiting for me.” At least that much was true.

  The mood in the room turned glacial as the Madam sat as silent and motionless as a stone idol. That invisible corset tightened around Nina’s midsection again, cutting off her breath. Gruesome images of her punishment and the number of years the Madam would add to her sentence flew through her head. Maybe it was like the movies, after all. They would keep dangling the tasty carrot of freedom just out of reach so she would work harder and make them more money, but they would never let her go, not while she was still physically able to work.

  She swallowed back the tears that wanted to rush forth, knowing if the Madam saw them, the game really would be over. Crying was severely frowned upon at the Weeping Willow. “I’m sorry, Madam, I didn’t mean to—”

  The Madam raised a hand, and just like that, glaciers were gone from her eyes. Nina wondered if she’d imagined them. “Don’t worry yourself, dear. When your time is up, you’re free to go, and I won’t stop you. In fact, you’ve always been free to go. This isn’t a prison. You know that.”

  Yeah, sure. There might not be any bars or locks on the place, but it was no less a prison, and everyone here knew that.

  “Now, you do have the option to remain here for one more month to work off the remainder of your balance,” said the Madam. “Or you can take on a special assignment for one of our oldest clients. The money would pay off the family in full as well as give you a small nest egg to take back with you to Iowa. You could be on a plane riding first class back to your mommy dearest and the smell of corn and cow shit by this time tomorrow. What do you say?”

  Now it was Nina’s turn to stare. There was more to this. Had to be.

  “What’s the catch?”

  The wrinkles around the Madam’s eyes deepened as she grinned. “The client is a little on the eccentric side. His name’s Hank Ballas, a reclusive billionaire who’s been holed up in his upstate home longer than you’ve been alive. Once or twice a year, he calls on us to send one of our best girls for a night of companionship. And his compensation has always been quite generous.”

  “How much?” Nina asked, curious despite her unease.

  “Half a million dollars. Sometimes a little more, if he likes the girl. I think he’ll really like you.”

  Nina’s jaw dropped open, and the Madam’s smug grin returned.

  “Of course, after we pay off the Cassinis and the Weeping Willow takes its cut, this will leave you with about, oh, seventy grand, but that’s far more than you’ve made in your best month here. It should get you settled nicely into your pastoral new life.”

  She quickly did the math in her head. The house was taking far more off the top than the standard seventy percent. She wanted to fight that, bargain for more, but that’s not how things worked at the Willow. You took what you got or you got nothing. Seventy grand for one night with a strange hermit seemed more than fair. He probably wouldn’t even want to have sex. She’d seen the type a few times over the years, and they mostly wanted to talk and cuddle. A few of them just touched her tits while they jerked off. Oddly, the ones who didn’t want sex paid more, like they felt guilty for not subjecting a prostitute to the debasement of her actual job. But, even if she did have to fuck him, it would be one last trick. He could be the most repugnant and filthy man alive, but she would do it if it meant her freedom.

  “Okay. I’m in.”

  The Madam’s eyes sparkled. “Very well. Go get yourself ready. I’ll have Ramón pull the car around. By the way, don’t overdo it on the hair and makeup. He likes his girls to look virginal.”

  Nina nodded and stood up. Maybe this would work, after all. The thought of going home tomorrow almost made her want to hug the woman, but she wouldn’t push it.

  “Thank you again, Madam.”

  This time, she didn’t smile. “Don’t thank me yet.”

  ***

  A half-hour later, Nina ducked into the back of the Town Car as Ramón, the Willow’s driver, held open the door.

  “You’re gonna be cold in that, you know,” he said. “Want to get a sweater?”

  Nina grinned. The nights were starting to get too cold for sleeveless white dresses, but most hookers, even the high-end ones, didn’t usually dress for the weather. She was used to Ramón acting like a concerned parent.

  “I’ll be fine, thanks. I’m used to being naked in the cold.” Though she wouldn’t have to be for much longer.

  All the girls loved Ramón, probably because most of them didn’t have fathers and he was the closest thing the Willow offered to one. His humor came in the form of knee-slappers that made most people groan, but they all laughed because his cheer was contagious. He usually kept quiet with the girls when the Madam was within earshot, but once he had them alone, he was likely to bust out with something like, “What’s a frog’s favorite drink? Croaka-Cola. Get it? Get it?” Then he’d throw back his head and laugh like it was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard.

  Tonight, there was no humor in his face. Instead, he looked old and sad. Nina guessed he was probably in his fifties, but now he looked old enough to be her grandfather. After closing her door, he walked around to get in behind the wheel. For a moment, he just sat there and let the engine run. Nina thought he was listening to one of the sports games he always played on the radio, but then he put the car into gear, and they were off without a word.

  She rode in unaccustomed silence for twenty minutes. Normally by now, Ramón would be sharing some new story about his son Alejandro in Jersey or talking about how his ex-wife was a whiskey maker, but he loved her still. Get it? Get it? But he remained silent, his hands gripping the wheel in a stiff ten o’clock-two o’clock, and Nina was starting to get nervous.

  They stopped at a red light and Ramón turned around in his seat. “Look, I know where I’m supposed to take you, but I just think you should know . . . I ain’t happy about it.”

  Nina’s sense of dread mounted. Ramón had driven her to dozens of clients over the years, and this was the first time he’d raised a real objection to any of them.

  “Why not?” she asked.

&
nbsp; “I knew when the Madam called me tonight that I’d be driving to the Ballas place upstate. I knew even before I answered the phone. I make this drive twice a year, sometimes three, and it was just about that time.” The car behind them honked, and Ramón turned back around to continue through the green light. Nina leaned forward so she could keep talking to him.

  “Who is this guy? I’m sure I’ve heard the name, but I can’t really place it.”

  “That’s the thing, see? No one really knows. He made all his money in oil and stocks a long time ago, I guess. Folks say he ain’t been outside in over twenty years. Maybe more. I heard he was some kinda germ phobe who lost his mind after his wife disappeared. Kinda like Howard Hughes. You know who he is?”

  Nina nodded. Joey had been a real movie nut, and he particularly loved anything by Martin Scorsese, so she’d seen The Aviator at least five or six times. She imagined bottles of urine sitting on every available surface and piles of garbage stacked several feet high, almost certainly infested with roaches. And in the middle of it all, an emaciated man with a beard halfway down his chest, his teeth rotted out, his skin pale and translucent from the lack of sunlight. Nina shook off a chill.

  Of course, Hank Ballas didn’t necessarily have to be that way. Not all hermit types were filthy as a rule, and a man rich enough to pay half a million bucks for a roll in the hay certainly had a staff of people to take care of him.

  “You said his wife disappeared. What happened to her?”

  Ramón shrugged. “Her name was Lady. She was about nine months pregnant when she vanished. No one ever found her or a body. Some say she wanted to get away from Ballas because he had a nervous breakdown, but her rich parents didn’t ever hear from her again either, so most folks think someone got away with murder.”

  “Like Hank Ballas?”

  He shrugged again. “If he did anything wrong, no one could prove it, but he stopped going out in public after that.”

  Finally, she asked the only thing that made sense. “Is he dangerous? Does he hurt the girls? Is that why you don’t like us going there?”

  Ramón didn’t speak for a few minutes and Nina was about to ask again when he answered. “Every girl who ever came out of that house had to be carried. You remember Rosie, don’t you?”

  “Oh God,” she whispered. How could she forget Rosie? Of course, she hadn’t really known the little Puerto Rican girl very well, but it was about three weeks after Nina arrived at the Willow that she walked into the second-floor bathroom to find the girl lying on the floor in a wide puddle of blood, her forearms sliced to ribbons. “I was the one who found her.”

  Ramón nodded, like he remembered too. “Not long before you came to the Willow, she took the same ride you’re taking now. You notice how she was a little quiet? A little off? And it wasn’t just her. Melinda is another one you probably know.”

  Nina did. Both girls drifted around the house like silent and pale wraiths while they were still around. Neither of them took many clients, and that was never a good thing if your primary residence was a brothel. There were others, too, who seemed . . . shell-shocked, Nina guessed. They had funny hitches in their steps, muttered to themselves a lot. They would jump if you touched them. Nina assumed it was drugs. Most of the girls in the house were former addicts.

  “These girls saw this client and came out like that?”

  “Yep. And there’ve been a lot more that you haven’t seen,” Ramón said. “They were good girls. Most of them were a little simple and probably wouldn’t have amounted to much anyway, but they had some spark in them. Melinda had a decent upbringing before she fell into drugs and wound up at the Willow. She played the violin, and sometimes she’d break it out in the morning and play a little if the Madam was gone. It was the sweetest sound you’d ever hear. I thought she really had a chance of getting out and making something of herself. Like you. But, one night the Madam told me to take Melinda up to see Hank Ballas, and I knew I’d never hear that violin again. Last time I saw her, I was stopping in the kitchen for a cup of coffee after bringing a couple other girls home, and there she was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cereal, staring straight ahead while milk dripped down her chin and wetted her shirt. Just shoveling in soggy Corn Flakes like her arm was attached to strings and some invisible man was pulling them.” Ramón shook his head as if to break the image apart. “Then she was gone, like all the rest. Eventually the Madam sends them away somewhere. I think it’s because they can’t earn any more, but I think it’s also so they don’t scare the other girls.”

  Nina sat back in her seat, her stomach fluttering. This was the first time she’d heard anything about this since she’d been at the Willow, but then again, she always kept to herself. It was an unspoken house rule that the girls didn’t get too close to one another, because—at least in Nina’s mind—the Madam didn’t want them gossiping and forming an alliance. She did this by forcing them to compete with one another for clients, and sometimes by punishing one girl for the actions of another. For instance, one girl lost her blankets and bed sheets for a week because another one drank more than her share of the milk. It was stupid stuff, but it was all part of the Madam’s plan to maintain control over her flock by keeping the girls from ever really liking each other.

  Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. She could go back to the Willow and just tell the Madam she’d work for the rest of the month. No need to be hasty, right? She’d done it this long. Nina noticed the vehicle moving over to the side of the road and slowing to a stop.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Ramón put the car into park and turned around. She could only see his face illuminated in the headlights of passing cars. His eyes were wide, sad pools that seemed to take up most of his face.

  “I’m giving you the chance to get out now. You can hit me over the head to make it look like a real getaway. I got some cash in my wallet that’s yours for the taking. Run to the bus station three miles behind us and get a ticket to anywhere but here. No one will know you’re gone for a few hours yet, and by then you’d be home free.”

  His offer was like a siren song. It would be so easy to do. Just run and forget all this. She thought of Ramón’s story about the girl Melinda stuffing soggy cereal in her gob like some puppet, and shivered. That could be her. That’s what he was saying. What in the world was at this Ballas man’s house that could do something like that to so many women, and did she really want to find out? The Madam knew exactly what she was sending Nina to, and now she understood why the woman had looked at her so coldly when she turned down the offer to stay. The bitch had no intention of letting her go home with a nice little nest egg. This was a disposal operation, plain and simple.

  But just like the siren song of myth, Ramón’s offer was equal parts tantalizing and lethal. If she ran, she would be able to survive for maybe a week on the money he gave her. The following week, she’d be living under a bridge turning tricks again, and probably back on the drugs, all while Victor Casinni’s men tortured her mother for information she didn’t have. Maybe there was another way . . .

  “I have a question,” she said. “The payment. Is it done electronically or does he pay cash?” Of course, that was a stupid question. It would be electronic. Most transactions were by credit card these days, especially for a sum so large, but then again, Ballas was a hermit. Maybe he hated banks and other electronic things.

  “Cash money, delivered directly to the Madam by yours truly. The man doesn’t do banks. Also doesn’t do phones. When he wants a girl, he sends a letter. It’s all very strange. Probably keeps all his money in a mattress.”

  Nina blinked. Must be a big goddamn mattress. She imagined Scrooge McDuck swimming in his mountain of gold coins. “Okay, how about this? I do the job, but instead of delivering the money to the Madam, we take it and both run. Hit the road, pick up our families and go away somewhere far away. Mexico, maybe. We could stretch the money far down there.”

  Ramón shook his head. �
�It’s not that easy. The Madam expects us back at a very specific time. And I’m also very sure either she or the Cassinis have people watching us. Their network is wide and tight. She doesn’t send me up here as a matter of trust. She doesn’t trust anybody.”

  This knowledge deflated her a little, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. “We can find ways around all that. Ditch the car and the clothes immediately and buy some disguises. Turn the money into traveler’s checks or find someone to help us launder it. You have to know people from your previous life who can do these things.”

  “You don’t know nothing about my old life, senorita. And trust me, you don’t want to know.” This wasn’t the voice of the joking grandfatherly man she’d come to know over the last few years. She’d dug deep enough to hit steel, and the sparks were in his eyes.

  She bowed her head, not wanting to anger him further. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it seems so . . . possible.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s possible. You going into that house and coming out a lifeless rag doll. Why do you think he pays so much? It’s supposed to make up for the Madam’s lost earnings with a little left over.”

  Nina looked up at him, suddenly filled with a burning anger. “Then that’s all the more reason I should go in there, do this job, and take that money. We’ll get the hell out of here, no matter the cost. Let’s not give that bitch one more red cent! I can deal with whatever that guy throws my way if it means I never have to go back to the Willow.”

  “You won’t be the same. Remember, the others—”

  “Look,” Nina held up her hand, “Those girls aren’t me. I refuse to believe they were all turned into zombies after fucking a dirty old hermit. There was something wrong with those girls already.” You’re rationalizing it, she thought. You don’t know that at all.