Violet Grenade(32)

A cage separates us from Cain, who's busy organizing merchandise, and Eric, who's dressed in a police officer uniform. I didn't realize Eric was a cop. I guess that should make me feel safe. It doesn't, though. It just makes me think of the officer who arrested Dizzy, and about where my friend is now.

Cain slides a window open and holds up a clipboard. Behind him and Eric, I spot a thin woman I've never seen before. She has hard features, small wrinkles around her mouth that tell me she's a smoker, and brown curly hair shaping a makeup-free face. The woman mumbles to herself as she unloads boxes, moving about as if she's sixty when she's probably only late thirties.

My eyes fall to her hands. They look soft, ill-matched to the rest of her. I bet when she holds a palm to your forehead to check for fever, it feels like silky-soft reassurance. I do this thing in my head where I imagine she holds her hand to my own forehead, pulls a blanket to my chin, and tells me I'm home.

Then I roll my eyes and shake my head. I do this sometimes. Imagine entire scenes between me and someone I've never spoken to. I've had boyfriends who brought me peanut brittle, friends who helped me find rare vinyl at an outdoor flea market, and fathers who … well, fathers who did things my real father didn't.

"Come on, Minnow." Poppet guides me into line. "Look at all the cool stuff."

I follow her gaze and spot shelves lined with goods. There's clothing, toiletries, stuffed animals, and bottles of pop to name a few. Farther up are more glamorous items: musical instruments, handbags with brand names I don't recognize, and high heels that make my mouth water. These are all things I can't afford, even if I didn't have a negative balance.

"Do you guys ever go into town?" I ask. "You know, for price comparisons?"

Poppet shrugs. "Nah. The Violets can have Eric take them places, but that's about it. The town is pretty far away, I think."

I look at Poppet, uneasiness mounting in my chest. "You mean you haven't left the house once in the last year?"

"It's not like I couldn't. But you have to help pay for gas if you want a ride. And I'd rather save my money."

I think about this. That so many of the girls don't go anywhere, and if they do, it costs them their precious savings. I look at the items for sale once more, and then start to leave the line.



       
         
       
        

That's when my eyes fall on a sketchpad.

It's wrapped in cellophane and includes two sharpened graphite drawing pencils. I stare at it like a cat that's spotted movement among a bed of grass. Last night I held pen to napkin, but with those pencils, that paper …

My fingers twitch imagining holding those pencils.

My mind counts the coins I could earn with them in my grasp.

And my feet, well, they shuffle forward without permission.

Poppet goes first, buying only a dainty bottle of perfume. She asks to see a small hairpin that holds a pink pearl on one end. For several seconds, she turns it over in her hands, admiring the jewelry. Then she hands it back, her shoulders slumped. "Just the perfume this week."

Cain raises his head when I reach the window. Something flashes in those brown eyes, though I can't place what. He flips through the papers on his clipboard until he comes to a copy of my earnings.

"Can I buy on credit?" I ask.

Cain shakes his head, but Mr. Hodge opens the door to the cage and lets himself in. He hears my question, but asks me to repeat it anyway.

"I asked if I can buy something on credit."

Mr. Hodge smiles and pulls his head back like a turtle escaping inside its shell. His neck truly is invisible when he does this. I've overheard other girls calling him The Neck, and there's no doubt why. I briefly wonder what a baby born from him and Raquel would look like.

"Let her do it," he says. There's spittle in the corner of his lip. He licks it off. "She's new. And here at Madam Karina's House for Burgeoning Entertainers, we are hospitable." He laughs like what he said is hilarious. I'm not sure who he thinks he's fooling. I know this will put me further in debt and tie me to the house, but I also know I need it to have any sort of chance.

Wilson sits up. Domino, you really don't need-

"How much is it?" I ask.

Mr. Hodge reaches for the sketchbook package. He looks like a bowling ball from the back. "Don't worry about that, rabbit. Leave the math to us men. You just think about all the pretty drawings you can make with this here notebook." Mr. Hodge elbows Cain. "Isn't that right?"

Cain stares at his feet, but I don't miss the way his jaw clenches. He has half a foot on Mr. Hodge and is built to destroy people like The Neck.