Ruby in the Rough

by Emily Shore

  I shut my eyes before I can black out.

  How could my own brother do this to me?

  When I wake up, I’m lying in a bed in nothing but lingerie with one of my wrists chained to the frame. The first thing I pick up on is the scent, but I can’t figure out if it’s me or the bed. I lean down and sniff my bare shoulder. Holy crap, it’s me. I smell...good. I inhale again. What is that? Vanilla? Marshmallow? Sweet cream? Whatever it is, it’s sweet. So are the white lacy pieces over my chest and privates. Guess they never heard of a redhead’s temper. Black would be more fitting. Other than scrubbing every speck of dirt off me, someone also unbraided my hair, tress by tress, and washed it. Now, it’s wet silk flattened on the pillows around me.

  Doing my best not to speculate on whoever had the pleasure of the task, I take a moment to survey the bedroom. The window isn’t the problem. Or the handcuffs because I’m sure with enough leverage, I could detach the flimsy bed frame though I might dislocate my shoulder trying. One simple chair could crash right through the window, but it’s the iron bars outside that are the issue.

  Off to my left, a door opens, and I’m nervous it could be Sawyer even if I might enjoy getting the chance to maim him again. Funny. It’s the first time I ever experienced the instinct to fight before. There’s a first time for everything, and the high was almost as good as climbing the clock tower, but I admit, I still prefer flight.

  The door closes, and I release a sigh, albeit a piqued one.

  “Sawyer’s coming soon,” whispers Chastity, tiptoeing into the room. “But I wanted to see you before.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Chastity. Just business. Survival. I get it.” I blow out a breath and tug at the chain. “But if you have a key, you could be a dear and...” I gesture up to the lock.

  She shakes her head and sits down beside me. “I’m sorry, I don’t.” Somehow, she manages to look even more disappointed than I feel.

  “Do you know what happened to Ink?”

  “They didn’t catch him. That’s all I know.”

  “Well, at least something right happened today.” I tilt my head back against the frame.

  “You knew right away,” she points out.

  “Duh.”

  “How?”

  “You had gang girl practically stapled to your forehead.”

  She looks down and chews her bottom lip. “He cares about us, you know?”

  Keep telling yourself that I want to say but don’t. She can’t hear it anyway. She can’t fathom it where she’s at right now.

  “I want to be here. He feeds us. He clothes us. Gives us a roof over our heads. Everything I want is taken care of.” Even inhalers. And the daily cigarette burns of course. I wonder how many rooms in this club smell of burning flesh.

  All her words might as well be Sawyer’s. Each one is trimmed with his poison wrapped up in the sweet milk of her voice. All the same, I accept them. For most girls these days, it just is. Few are treated better than anywhere else. Wherever Chastity came from, she probably went from a worse situation into a bad one. Out of the fire and into the frying pan. She was all too eager to jump in. Backgrounds like mine are rare now. Meant for anthropological museums. Whatever that means. I heard Ink say it once.

  “Why are you here, Chastity?”

  “You were still good even though you knew. You let me share your fire and eat your food and―”

  “I’m going to put the brakes on right there. That was all Ink, got it? So, if you ever hit the streets again, you can thank him. Not me.”

  “This isn’t where I originally wanted to be.” She shakes her hair loose of a bun, and it tumbles down her shoulders like goldenrod. “I always heard of the Hotel. That’s where I really wanted to go. But the gang stole me away. And Sawyer promised to be good to me if I came with him. Promised if I was a good girl, he’d give me food and keep me safe.”

  Safe but not from him.

  Speak of the devil. Sawyer doesn’t get angry when he finds Chastity talking to me even though she stands up from the bed, her cheeks paling like someone shriveled the cherries there, her eyes fearful as an orphaned fawn one moment and longing like a pup before its master a moment later.

  He approaches her and pats her cheek. “That’s a good girl, Chastity. Now, run along.”

  She obeys without a word.

  I chisel my grimace onto the stone tablet of my mouth, but my eyes automatically move toward the window, following a flight pattern as he lowers himself onto the bed next to me. The next thing he does surprises me when a photograph blocks my vision. My wince is immediate when I recognize the familiar figure inside even if I haven’t seen her naked in a long time.

  “I quite like this one.” He taps another against my forehead where he’s posed right next to me, grinning next to my nude self sprawled on the bed.

  I’m not sore so I know he hasn’t done anything though I imagine his hands were all over me. I can almost feel each filthy fingerprint. However, I can still mock him.

  “Because you can’t find a girl who will give it to you any other way,” I counter smoothly, remembering the unconscious girl in the shower earlier.

  At first, Sawyer’s expression darkens, mouth curving downward and shadows stalking his eyes, but then he spreads the rest of the photos before me. Each one is a trophy to him. Each one is a cage for me. No matter what happens from this moment on, he will always harbor a piece of me in his brain. More powerful than any drug which can creep out of your body over time, my image is now a ghost in his memory. There’s nothing I can do about that.

  “One good turn deserves another. It was only fair. You had your little fun. And so did I,” he announces, pride enveloping every word.

  I turn my eyes away and promise, “I’ll get those photos back.”

  “These will be for my own personal collection. Copies going to the Hotel. If this was just about me, I’d be having a lot more fun right about now.” He brushes his fingers across my naked thigh. “But my crew always comes first. And right now, we aren’t in too good a standing with the Hotel. Guess they weren’t too happy about us intercepting that big shipment of girls. So, now I’ve got sweepers constantly on my ass. Not to mention all my headaches with the Sisters. It’s not easy being the leader of the hardest gang in the Ghetto.”

  I feign a swoon. “Oh, you poor soul.”

  “But you get to be my virgin golden ticket, so to speak.” He places one finger beneath my chin and tilts it up. “Or that’d be ruby ticket in this case. And the greatest part about this deal...I get a season pass to your hotel room after your first client.” His fingers travel north and slip under the lingerie just as he leans in. I lift my face so high so his mouth attacks my neck instead of my lips. “See you soon, Ruby.”

  The last thing Sawyer does is force an inhaler into my mouth and presses down on the button, which sends a shockwave of chemically-enhanced oxygen into my mouth, exploding into my throat and down the cavity to my lungs. It doesn’t take long for it to work. Everything goes wibbly-wobbly. The bed, the ceiling, the floor, even Sawyer all become bouncy balls in my vision. But this time I don’t black out. I just remain in that suspended state while Sawyer unlocks the handcuffs because I hear a jingle against the bed frame.

  Where is Malachi?

  Where is Ink?

  My vision rocks more like I’m on some canoe in the middle of a hurricane, moving from one jostling wave to the next. Or I think they’re stairs. Bright light pounds into my eyes a few moments later along with some creature that bites every last inch of me. Or maybe it’s just the cold, I can’t tell. The next thing I feel is a jacket draped over my shoulders.

  “Can’t have her freezing before she gets to the Hotel.” I hear Sawyer’s voice behind me. His hand glides along my stomach, which feels more like a hot iron with a trail of dry ice.

  Once I’m inside the van, it plows into gear. I’m convinced it’s more of a trampoline than a car, but something in my subconscious is aware that it’s just due to wha
tever Sawyer gave me. Except that trampoline becomes a tornado. Or maybe an earthquake. Or maybe both. At some point, I’m certain we spin around in a 360, so I guess the trampoline is in fact a merry-go-round. Finally, we capsize. Bodyguards cushion me, but their bones still smash into my face, throwing me off balance. Windows crack. Glass shards cover me, glittering like snowflakes. Outside, I can hear voices, but they’re not low. More shrill like violins strumming off key.

  Suddenly, the door pops open faster than a Jack-in-the-Box. All around me, I hear the gang guards shouting right as shots are fired, and they go still. I don’t have time to tell whether they’re dead or not before three girls yank me out of the van. They look like bandits with the bandannas covering their faces and loose tunics over thick leggings with boots zipped far up past their knees.

  “One girl! That’s it!” One exclaims, ripping down her bandana. With the chemicals messing up my vision, her plump lips painted blood red seem more like a clown’s.

  “Not just any girl. That’s a ginger,” another mentions, stepping in front of the clown. “Gotta get her back to HQ before the Brothers bring in reinforcements. Big Sis will want to meet her right away.”

  The last name confirms my suspicions. Out of the frying pan into another frying pan for me. Looks like I’ll get to meet the leader of the Sisters. What a day I’m having.

  Unlike the Brothers, the Sisters blindfold me and haul me into a van of their own. But I know this city. Its streets are the lines on my palms. Plus, the drugs are finally working their way out of my system. We’re in the heart of the business district somewhere, which means the Hotel is nearby. Like the Brothers, the Sisters territory extends for miles, but only their members know where their headquarters is. They don’t advertise it while everyone knows about the Brothers Nightclub.

  When the van careens to a halt, they open the door and drag me onto a walkway that leads up to stone steps. Shadows drown my skin from the high rises I know must surround us. They still manage to squelch the sun even though most are crumbling, except for whatever building is in front of us, which I can sense has been here for a long time. Its shadow is more immense than the ones behind me. Plus, I step on no broken glass on the street. No discarded bricks or stones. I imagine it’s not decrepit.

  Once we’re inside, I hear the sound of an organ playing in the background. Between that and the girls’ voices launching into echoes, I know where we are; they don’t even have to remove the blindfold for my prediction to come true. It’s the largest cathedral in the Ghetto. How ironic that the Sisters, the most notorious gang next to the Brothers, is headquartered in a church. Circular stained glass windows glitter all around the sanctuary like crowns. Tall candles drip wax, their bases like creamy pools, wicks straining from all the weight. Sitting at the very front of the sanctuary closest to the altar is a woman, one hand clutching a rosary. Behind me, her crew addresses her as Big Sis.

  When Big Sis makes the sign of the cross and rises from her seat in the pew, I observe that she doesn’t take after her namesake. In fact, I’m a good head taller than she is. She’s just a slip of a thing. However, the tattoos breeding on her face, the packed muscles in her arms, and the edges of her mouth harder than diamonds would suggest otherwise. Plus, her tattoos are like a tapestry. Similar to Sawyer’s brands but black ink and not burnt flesh. I’m certain each one tells a story and a violent one at that, considering rumors have circulated that she beat a sweeper to death with his own club and then delivered what was left of his body right to the very doors of the sweepers headquarters. And that was just because he was caught in their territory.

  “There are other ways of being big,” she echoes my thoughts, rising to her full height, which reaches my neck. “I’ve had to claw and scrape my way out of the gutter. Trust me, I’ve earned my name.”

  That’s when I notice the object around her neck, and I almost jump back. Unlike Sawyer who displayed his trophy in front of his headquarters for all to see, Big Sis wears hers. The scrap of skin is unmistakable. Now, I understand what happened to that space on Sawyer’s leg.

  “As usual, Sawyer can never hold onto his stock. And you want to know why?” She saunters up to me, arms bending like small beef logs over her chest. Bending down, she opens her mouth, which smells of salted fish, and brags, “He always delegates. I micromanage. I get things done.” She stomps her foot just a little, but all it does is pat the ground.

  “I’m not his stock,” is all I say before one of her crew kicks my back.

  Big Sis hisses at the girl behind me and points to the door. “Get out! I’ll do this myself.”

  The girl doesn’t exactly leave but instead exits through one of the halls on the right side of the cathedral. I can’t begin to imagine how big this place is.

  “Sorry for the treatment.” Big Sis leans over and raises me up by my hands, confusing me with how light her fingers trace my knuckles there. “You know the sheep. They need you to be big, tough, and mean. The only way they’ll listen. But I could tell the moment I saw you, you’re not sheep at all, are you...Fox?” Her grin crooks one side of her mouth.

  I shrug, playing along. “Seems to be my local nickname.”

  “You’ve had us gangs running around in circles. Sweepers, too.” Big Sis places one hand on her hip, which juts out like a war hammer. “Guess it’s my lucky day. And yours, too.”

  I tilt my head, eyeing her, already reading the fine print lodged in her eyes. “How so?”

  “I hear you’re quite the climber.” Big Sis steps back and crosses her arms over her chest.

  “What about it?”

  “Let’s say I have need of your particular skill set.” Big Sis takes a moment to circle me right before cupping my shoulders with her tiny hands, fingers thin and wiry as crow’s feet.

  “What if I say no?” I twist my head around to ask.

  She chuckles, weaving her way back around to my front. The short tufts of her dark hair remind me of black arrowheads.

  “I think you’ll find our interests are aligned.” She pauses and then retrieves a two-way radio from her pocket and mutters into the speaker, “Bring in the whelp.”

  Whoever she’s speaking to doesn’t arrive in the sanctuary for another minute or two, but every passing second feels stretched like dough. There can be only one reason I would agree to helping Big Sis with anything. She’s known me for all of five minutes, and she manages to parade my weakness right in front of my very eyes.

  Ink looks a little roughed up between the bruises on the one side of his face to the skin razed right off his cheek.

  “You didn’t have to hurt him,” I snarl at Big Sis, wanting nothing more than to barrel right into her, but I have a feeling she could ring my neck if she wanted to. Like cracking a sparrow’s neck in one move.

  “We didn’t,” denies Big Sis, turning toward Ink, signaling them to come forward. “At least not intentionally. Fool was hanging onto the back of the truck when our roadside bomb hit it.”

  I knead my brow. So, that was what caused the accident. As the girls holding Ink come closer, I pick up on his breath, how he’s wheezing.

  “Ink, one of your ribs is broken.” I’m stating the obvious.

  He raises his head and waves one hand, palm scraped raw from the accident. “I’ll be fine, Ruby.”

  “Your reaction confirmed it,” Big Sis says, marching toward him. “First, I thought he was a sweeper in training or something. We were tracking him even while he was tracking you. But when he hitched a ride onto the back of the truck, it was easy to figure out he had more in mind than simply relieving the Brothers of their shipment. Pity no one told him chivalry has no place in today’s world.”

  I say nothing. We both know she has me in a half-nelson. Whatever the Brothers or Sweepers would do to Ink, the Sisters are far worse. If they didn’t trick themselves out too, I’d almost have an ounce of respect for them. Almost.

  I turn to Big Sis. “What do you want?”

  “It’s not a matter of
what I want but what I need,” she retorts, pulling her fingers into a conjoined fist and nudging her chin onto it.

  “What do you need?”

  “You don’t need the specifics. Suffice to say, it’s a little bigger than a breadbox, and once you’re inside, you can’t miss it.”

  “Inside where? The Hotel?” I picture the enormous building, the one I’ve always wanted to climb. All the individual wrought iron balconies are the best hand and footholds one could ask for as well as all the elaborate stonework between each one. Similar to the Clock Tower but on a more grandiose level.

  “The Penthouse as a matter of fact,” Big Sis clarifies while pausing at my side, her shadow just teasing mine. “Oh, and don’t get caught. It’d be a shame if I have to muck up your pretty boy’s face even more than it already is.”

  “And do I get anything out of this deal? Climbing the Hotel to the Penthouse is a tall order.” I reach for more, nailing my eyes onto hers.

  Her smile spreads like creeping ivy across her face. She knows I’m testing the waters, toying with my boundaries.

  “If you are successful, let’s just say I won’t even need that pretty red hair of yours.” She thwacks one of my ends so it punches my cheek and then finishes, “I’ll have my own little trophy I can sell to the highest bidder.”

  “So you can get me...us out of the Ghetto?” I breathe a sigh of relief when Ink doesn’t correct me. Maybe the Ghetto has finally worn him down. He’s not like me. If I wanted, I could take a hundred years in this place. Could rule the streets. I’ll always be its queen. It’s not a matter of needing but of wanting. And what I want is a thousand miles away. Not even Ink can tame that.

  Big Sis leans her head over in a slow, mocking bow. “I’ll escort you out of the city myself.”

  I have to go through the sewer. It’s the only way to bypass all the sweepers guarding the perimeter of the Hotel. Big Sis gives me the map, which will carry me through to the access grate on the other side. I have no time to waste. Not with the Brothers crew combing any area they can for me after my little abduction and missed rendezvous with the Hotel. We had to wait until the end of the day after sunset to do this. Nighttime is best for invisibility. Once I’m up high enough, it won’t matter. No sweeper from the ground could possibly see my figure. Plus, the curtains will be drawn, and the Hotel’s prime business hours have begun. Big Sis has given me the schedule for the guard change. At most, I’ll have a couple minutes to climb out of the sewer grate, fix it back into place, and start climbing. Fortunately, she’s equipped me with chalk and some good climbing shoes. Even as Big Sis’s crew remove the manhole cover so I can lower myself into the sewer a few blocks down from the Hotel, the adrenaline is so thick, it’s starting to pack itself into my blood vessels.