"Little late to be sleeping," I say.
He pops up in bed, his back turned, and breathes rapidly like I've caught him misbehaving. But that's ridiculous. He's a twenty-year-old (don't quote me) boy who was taking a nap before a long night's work. Where's the harm?
When he turns, I see bags beneath his eyes, as if he was fighting in his sleep. If that's true, it'd be a sharp contrast to what he does during the day, which is passivity at its prime.
"Sorry I scared you. I just need to use the phone," I say. "Are you okay?"
He runs a hand over his buzzed, dark-brown hair. "You're supposed to wait for a market day to make calls."
I bristle. "That's bull. I've heard other girls talking down here."
"They're rule breakers."
"So am I."
Cain inspects me. Runs his gaze over my face, my neck. There's amusement in his eyes. "So you are." He leaves and comes back a moment later, opens the cage door, and motions toward a phone.
I don't ask how much the call will cost, because I've pretty much decided I'm out of here. But I need to hear Greg say the words, "Come home." As if there is a home. As if there is a family waiting with open arms that feel good when they touch.
I dial Greg's number on the black rotary phone and turn away from Cain. Meg picks up on the second ring. "Hair Flair and Fun, how can I help you?"
I roll my eyes. What a God-awful name. "Yeah, I need to talk to Greg." I keep my voice low as if that will help. As if Cain can't hear every word I'm saying.
"May I ask who's calling?"
"You may not."
"Oh, oh-kay," Meg stutters. "Let me get him. Please hold for a moment."
Jeez. She really is a good employee. I'm being a complete horse's rear, and she's still perfectly polite. I swallow my guilt and wait to hear Greg's voice. It doesn't take long.
"This is Greg."
"Greg, it's me." I smile into the phone. It's good to hear his voice. It's been only a week, but with so many miles between us, it feels much longer.
"Hey, Dom. How you doing? You coming in to get a new wig today?"
He doesn't even know I'm gone. He'd have no reason to, but it still hurts for whatever reason. I'm about to respond when Greg continues.
"Saw Dizzy pawning some stuff across the street yesterday. I'm guessing that means you've got heavy pockets and a hankering for new locks, am I right? Tell me I'm right."
The floor falls out from beneath me.
One second I'm cool as a mother freaking cucumber, and then Greg tells me he's seen Dizzy.
"It must have been someone else you saw. Dizzy is-"
"No, it was him," Greg interrupts. "He waved to Meg. Him and some other kid."
I close my eyes against the pain of what he's telling me, but at the same time, I refuse to believe it. I left a note for Dizzy to call Greg if he got out early. Surely he would have looked for me immediately.
I clear my throat and force myself to speak again. "Can you give me the number to that pawn shop?"
"What? Why?" Greg pauses. "Where are you calling from?"
"Greg, please."
He must hear the wobble in my voice, because a second later I hear him whispering something to Meg. He gets back on the phone. "You ready?"
I ask Cain for a pen and he grabs one without hesitation. "Ready."
Greg reads the number, and I thank him. He starts to ask more questions, but I tell him I have to go and hang up. I phone the pawn store Greg said he saw Dizzy at. Cain doesn't stop me from making another call.
The guy Dizzy and I deal with at American Picker Pawn confirms Greg's story. Dizzy is out of jail. He's seen him twice in the last couple of days. Running with a new kid, he says. Got out of jail because of inmate overflow, he says. Slapped with a ton of community service time instead, he says. Dizzy mentioned you left a note and were off somewhere. That true?
I want him to stop saying things.
I hang up and struggle to catch my breath. My brain tilt-a-whirls inside my head and my eyes sting. I was alone for two months after I left my parents' house. Two long, lonely months. But then I found Dizzy. I clung to him like he was both father and mother and everything else I needed to survive. But he doesn't care. If he did, he would have run straight from our broken-down Victorian house to Hair Flair & Fun and demanded answers.
He wouldn't be visiting pawn shops.
He wouldn't be making new friends who aren't me.
He wouldn't be waving to Meg and not bothering to cross the street.
I can't help what happens next. A sob breaks in my chest. Just once, but once is enough. Cain rounds my body and stands in front of me. I keep my eyes down and stand still. Won't move no matter what he says. But he doesn't say anything. He just stands there, a pillar when I need so badly to lean on something sturdy and unyielding.