Poppet doesn't respond.
"Poppet, you're not having second thoughts are you?"
She shakes her head. "No, I know we have to get away from this place. But it doesn't make it any less scary to start over again. And I haven't even thought about what'll happen if we're caught."
"I won't let anything bad happen to you," I say quickly.
And I won't let anything bad happen to you, Wilson whispers.
I stand and cross the distance between us, pause at the side of Poppet's bed. She realizes at once what it is I intend to do and lifts her covers. I slide in next to her and wrap her in my arms. Pretend she is my daughter and I am her mother and I'll die before I let harm befall my child.
"All we need is a little money and a plan to rescue those girls," I say.
"And what about us?" Poppet whispers, her back warm against my stomach. "How will we escape Pox?"
I bite my lip, trying to form a quick response so she's reassured. But I can't. Thankfully, Poppet's breathing deepens, and I'm afforded complete silence in which to think.
She's right. The biggest obstacle isn't how to rescue the incarcerated girls, because we can convince authorities in another town to come for them, and for the girls still in this house, too. Surely they'll be interested in what goes on in this place, and that several of the madam's girls are underage. It'll take longer than I'd like to save those girls in the jail cells, but we can do it. I'll make the police listen. And I feel sure I can collect the money I need for gas and any necessities we'll need to run fast and far.
But how will we escape Pox and remain untraceable?
I think of Madam Karina's borrowed vehicles that sit shiny and promising in the front drive. I'd bet my right arm that most of the girls before me attempted that route. Cars can be reported stolen, and if they're rentals, surely the owner has a way to track their whereabouts.
Some girls may have fled on foot. But how far could you get before being found? I think of those two women in the ice cream shop. How wary they seemed of Madam Karina. It'd be difficult to escape Pox on foot with all those loyal eyes keeping watch.
So how will we do it?
How will we be the three people who manage to escape, to get help, and to stay out of Madam Karina's clutches?
It isn't until late in the night, as the promise of sleep stalks forward, that the solution comes to me.
Chapter Fifty-Two
The Fear Beneath His Heel
Night falls before I find the courage to leave the main house. I'm eager to escape Madam Karina's clutches, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to make the sacrifices it'll take. Poppet is quiet as I fasten the same bra I've worn and washed over the last several weeks. The same one that came with me from Detroit.
Poppet walks over to me silently with something clutched in her hand. As I watch her in the vanity mirror, she unfolds the blouse-black with a plunging neckline. I stand silently, and she slips it over my head. Together, we inspect my slight figure. I have a small chest, and hips that would insult a real woman, but this sinful number still screams seductive.
My scalp tingles with anxiety as Poppet hands me her makeup bag. I withdraw what I need and lay it out on the counter, draw in a breath before I begin working. It takes me a full half hour to complete my masterpiece. When I'm done, I cross the room to the middle dresser drawer. An old, familiar chemical-laden scent touches my nose, and when I close my hand over my treasure, a shiver works its way down my torso.
Hello, old friend.
I withdraw the hot pink wig and clutch it to my stomach. It's the last one I bought from Greg's shop, and the memories of being there in that store, with the fragile safety it brought me, are almost too much to bear.
I wonder how Greg is now. His shop is gone. But he's sharing a place with his boyfriend. Maybe he traded one dream for another. Sometimes, I let myself believe there's room in his life for me. But if there's one thing I've learned from living in this warped house, it's that I must depend on myself first and foremost. It's okay to let others help. But it's time for me to stand on my own two feet, however unstable that may feel.
With careful fingers, I slide the wig onto my head. When I flip back the tresses, Poppet's gaze lands on me with a weight I want. She needs me. Not the other way around, though I do want her in my life. But this time, I am the one who must do for another. I am not a girl awaiting Dizzy's arrival home.
Tonight I am someone else's hope.
It feels good.
"I won't let you down," I tell Poppet. "Give me three days, and we'll be out of here. Maybe sooner."
"Cain, too, right?" she says, wringing her hands.