The Lights of Tenth Street (46 page)

She reached her car and slipped inside, cradling her purse. At least her wallet
bulged with several new one-hundred-dollar bills. He’d thrown them at her afterward, reducing her to fresh tears while he went to get another beer. Good thing he’d paid her before passing out on the sofa.

She sat stock-still as the weight of her thought hit her.
Good thing he paid me
.

She put her head on the steering wheel, her eyes dry, staring at nothing. She really was a prostitute. No getting around it, no sugarcoating it. She winced as the steering wheel pressed the bruise on her cheek. She was probably just getting what she deserved.

She sat for five minutes, feeling pulped and worthless, before summoning the energy to drive away. Then she groaned, realizing that she needed a textbook for the test tomorrow, and she had left it in her locker. She would have to pull it together enough to stop by the club on the way home. Either that or just quit school entirely. She sighed and checked the clock on the dashboard. There were probably still a few people at the club, closing up. She would just have to avoid them.

Twenty minutes later, Ronnie parked in The Challenger’s darkened back lot, the only car there. Only a few staff cars were left in the other lots, the night winding down to a close. She had fixed her mussed hair, but the bruises might be visible by now. She just wanted to get in and out without being noticed.

She slipped through the club’s back door and heard distant thumps and clatters and dim voices talking about going to an all-night bar or complaining that they had to get up too early in the morning.

The hall was deserted, half the lights already off. She walked quickly toward the break room and, hearing no one, poked her head inside. Empty. She hurried to her locker and retrieved her book, then hurried back down the hallway. She paused for a long moment, listening; then, satisfied she was alone, yanked open the door to the back parking lot.

A wide-eyed face loomed up out of the darkness, and Ronnie shrieked and jumped sky-high. She staggered back, her hand on her heart.

“Maris! You scared me!”

Maris panted a moment. “What the heck are you doing here? You left hours ago.”

“I had to come back to get something. What are you doing, coming in the back door like this?”

“They’d already locked the front door and I couldn’t get anybody’s attention. I forgot something, too; think I left it here when I was closing up.” She yawned. “I’m bushed. I just want to get in and out without talking to anyone.”

“Me, too.”

Maris looked at her more closely. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

Maris glanced up and down the hallway then pulled Ronnie into the ladies’ bathroom, staring at her face in the fluorescent light. She pressed a finger to Ronnie’s cheek, pausing when Ronnie winced.

“
That’s
what I mean, girlfriend. What’s going on. Who’s hitting you?”

“No one.”

Maris folded her arms across her chest and just stood there, barring the doorway.

“Okay, fine. Glenn, the guy I’m seeing. He was drunk tonight and got a little carried away.”

“A little carried away,” Maris repeated, shaking her head. “Don’t do it, Ronnie.”

Ronnie looked up, surprised as the use of her real name.

“Please, girl,” Maris said. “I knew you before your fancy stage name. You’re still Ronnie in my head. Always will be. Just like your friend Tiffany.” She hesitated. “You want my advice, you should get out of it. Just leave. You can find another job somewhere else. Somewhere they won’t trade you like a piece of meat for their deal of the day.”

Ronnie sighed. “Look, I know you were disappointed when I started dancing.”

“Hey.” Maris held up her hands. “It’s not my role to be disappointed or to cheer you on or to hold your hand. You gotta do what you gotta do. I’m just saying I can see the writing on the wall. I’ve seen it too many times. Better you leave now than get your spirit broken. You’ve got a different spirit than the other girls. Even Tiffany.”

Maris nodded, her eyes direct. “Oh yeah, girl, don’t think I don’t notice these things. You’re different. Always have been. But this stuff’ll break you eventually.” She started to say something then shrugged. “That’s all. You’re the one that’s got to decide if you’re going to respect yourself. You do with it what you want.”

Ronnie stared at her. “Okay.”

Maris nodded, then turned away. “Got to use the john. See you.” She disappeared into one of the stalls.

Ronnie cracked the door, looking up and down the hallway. Still empty.

She stole the short distance back down the corridor, out the door, and to her car without being spotted. Well, except by Maris. As she drove home, she turned over in her mind what Maris had said. There was no way she could quit, obviously, but she could respect herself enough to tell Marco and ask for his help.

“
What?
”

Marco stared at Ronnie in disbelief, then in rising fury. He took two quick steps out from behind his desk and put his hand under her chin, turning her cheek to the
side. The ugly bruise was well covered by makeup, but was still visible. Too visible to do stage work that night.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to
kill him
.” He turned and slammed his fist onto his desk with a force that made Ronnie jump.

“Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just—I don’t
believe
that he did this to you!”

Marco paced the room, using every word in the book to describe Glenn, then abruptly turned back to her.

“Tell you what. You go home, take the night off. Put your feet up and recover for a couple of days, okay?”

Ronnie looked at him in surprise. He waved a hand and put on a scowl.

“Don’t thank me. I’m just looking out for my own best interests.” He paced some more. “You ditch Glenn. Do not see him again. This is just unacceptable.” He slammed his fist into the desk again. “
Unacceptable!
”

Marco abruptly turned back to her. “Glenn doesn’t know where you live, does he?”

“No. But he does know my phone number, and he could probably find the apartment that way if he tried hard enough.” She shivered.

Marco muttered under his breath, then returned to his chair, his face calm and cold. “I will deal with this. You go home and relax. Don’t worry; it’ll be taken care of.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Leave that to me.”

“But … I don’t want anything—you know—
bad
to happen to him. I just want him not to do that again.”

“Don’t worry. He won’t.”

Tyson stared at the darkening ocean as Marco’s tirade blistered through the phone. Marco sometimes got too worked up about things, but this time Glenn really was the fool. Drawing this sort of attention at this stage of the game was inexcusable. Not to mention putting one of their best girls out of commission for days.

He reassured Marco that he would take care of matters and ended the call. His feet crunched on the soft sand as he headed back up to the house.

The others members of the S-Group looked up, curious, when he came in.

“We have a problem.” He briefed them on the breakdown of discipline, the awkward situation. “Suggestions?”

“Wish we could just whack him and get it over with,” one of the others said.
“I’ve been concerned about Glenn from day one. He’s got the skills and the money motivation, but he’s never taken the thing seriously enough.”

Another member shook his head. “Can’t eliminate him. He’s too critical right now, and it’s too soon. We’re just ramping up all the pre-Christmas sales. Another month, maybe, but now?” He shrugged. “We just have to find a way to bring him back in line without raising outside suspicions.”

Tyson folded his arms. “Marco’s relieved that the girl won’t be near Glenn anymore. He’s been fretting she might learn too much. Paranoid.”

The others didn’t smile. “Yeah, maybe, maybe not,” one said. “Let me just refer it to my boys, the two that did that other job for us. Our backslider will be in bed for two days, and on day number three he’ll be back at his post like a good boy, ready to act his age again.” He looked around. “Any objection?”

Seeing none, Tyson nodded. “Go ahead then. We can’t afford to have Glenn go after the girl before we get to him. It’s got to be done tonight.”

He waited while the man went to make a call on his cell phone. “When he comes back, we need to move on to the next order of business.” He gave the others a smooth smile. “We’re ready for the first trial.”

Ronnie heard the phone ringing, but didn’t answer it. She was deep in the bath, bubbles up to her nose, meditative music wafting from the CD player.

She felt herself stiffening more with each ring, waiting for the call to go to voice mail and leave her in peace. What if it was Glenn? What if he’d found out where she lived? She forced herself to take a few deep breaths, remembering Marco’s words.

It’ll be taken care of
 …

How, she didn’t want to know. She also didn’t want to think how she would replace the income Glenn had brought her. She’d have to cut back a bit. Or maybe she could do more of these special jobs Marco kept proposing.

The phone stopped ringing as voice mail picked up. Later, snuggled in her robe, Ronnie listened to Marco’s voice on the recorder and breathed a sigh of relief:

“Macy, thought you’d want to know that Glenn won’t be coming back into the club. And he won’t be looking to bother you again. He’s been warned off, you might say. He’ll probably not be walking too good for the next few days either, but he had it coming. Well, that’s it. Just thought you’d want to know. I put you down on the schedule for Friday night. Give you two more days to recoup.”

Ronnie put down the phone and crawled into bed. When was the last time she’d gone to sleep before midnight? At least she’d finally be chipper for her classes the next day.

N
o.”

Doug Turner crossed his arms, staring at the surprise, the latent fury on the face of his colleague.

“What do you mean, no?” the COO said.

“I mean no.” Doug took a breath, settling his stomach. “I told you at the outset that I will do nothing illegal, blackmail or no. I’d rather face public humiliation than go to jail.”

He gestured at the paper the COO held, a document certifying that they did not own stock in a company they had, in fact, partly acquired the previous year. “I’m not signing that.”

The COO gave the small chuckle that always infuriated Doug. “It’s just a small, closely held company that no one cares about. No one will ever find out—”

“Forget it. You can just forget the whole thing.” Doug grabbed the telephone and punched in Jordan’s number, watching the COO’s eyes narrow.

Jordan’s secretary answered. “Yes, Doug?”

“I need to see Jordan right away.”

“I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting—”

“No. I need to see him
right now
. Interrupt him. Now.”

There was a pause. Doug could hear the secretary lay the receiver on her desk and knock on Jordan’s door. He could hear Jordan’s annoyed bark, the secretary’s quiet explanations, the returning footsteps.

She picked up the phone. “He said he’ll be in your office in two minutes.”

“Thanks.” Doug hung up and stared at the company’s chief operating officer. “It’s time we got this all out on the table, don’t you think?”

The COO glared at him and didn’t answer. Both men stood, waiting through the pause, facing each other across Doug’s desk like gunfighters ready to draw.

Doug’s thoughts turned to Sherry, to their conversation just last night about how to handle the blackmail that still hung over Doug’s head. Their family was healing, and Doug could no longer accept succumbing to the COO’s corruption. Late at night, snuggled in his arms, Sherry had kissed him and assured him that
when he decided to take a stand, she would stand with him no matter what happened.

He had lain awake for hours, listening to his wife’s quiet breathing, giving thanks for the return of their marriage and her unconditional support in the inevitable showdown. He just hadn’t thought the showdown would happen so quickly.

Lord, Thy will be done
 …

Jordan barged in the door to Doug’s office. He stopped in front of the desk and glowered at both men, letting loose a string of curses for good measure.

“I was right in the middle of a big meeting. Would you please tell me what’s going on?”

Doug walked over to the door and closed it. “Jordan, for the last nine months, I have been blackmailed into approving deals and signing documents against my better judgment.”

Jordan looked at his COO, who stared straight ahead.

Doug continued. “I have some personal problems that our colleague here somehow found out about, videotaped, and threatened to release to my wife, my church, and anyone else I cared about, unless I did his bidding. The first deal I was forced to approve was the Silicon Valley deal, and there have been a half-dozen since then. But I can’t do it anymore. I need to know where you stand on this, if you had any part in it, and what you intend to do about it. If you knew about this, I will submit my resignation here and now.”

Jordan held up his hands. “No! No, Doug, don’t quit. I wondered why you kept changing your mind on things but I had no idea …” He turned to the COO, his voice rising. “What were you doing, plumbing the company for personal gain? Using us as your personal piggy bank?”

The COO continued to stare straight ahead, his neck rigid, looking like he was just inches away from lashing out and punching both of them.

“No, sir. I was just trying to make the company all it could be. Just trying to earn us all more money, chief.”

“Oh, that’s a bunch of—” Doug cut off his protestations at Jordan’s quelling look.

Jordan stuck his face close to the COO’s. “So you decided to destroy the morale of one of our best people, just to bump up our profit margin?”

Receiving no answer, Jordan turned back to Doug, the fury still vibrating. “And you—did you do anything illegal?”

“No, sir. That’s what started this. He wanted me to, today.”