Justice For Abby (8 page)

"Okay."

Jerrod waited for Jeremiah to follow the rest of the group to the faculty lounge. “We need to leave.”

She shook her head. “No. We haven’t—”

“We have to go, Abigail.” He grabbed her favorite black cashmere jacket from the chair, struggling to keep the frustration out of his voice. This entire situation could have been avoided if everyone had followed the team’s original plan.

Fear replaced the mutiny in her eyes. “What’s wrong? What—”

“That woman I chased—it was Toni Torrell. I think she had a camera.”

“She wanted pictures of Lily and the kids.”

“I hope you're right.” He held out her jacket.

“No one knows who I am." Fear flooded her voice as she put it on. "She doesn’t know who I am."

“Let’s hope not.” He gave Lily a quick wave across the room and walked with Abby down the hall and into the elevator, wondering if their luck had finally run out.

~~~~

Abby slid Jerrod a glance, noting his calm eyes and rigid posture as the elevator doors closed them in for the four-story descent. She looked his way again, clasping her hands tight, waiting for his powerful shoulders to relax, but they didn't. Jerrod was always watchful; he constantly planned for the worst; that was part of his job, but this was the first time she'd ever detected a ruffle in his unshakeable composure. Was he angry with her, or worried? Or both?

He'd warned her this could happen, and she'd taken the risks anyway. She and Jerrod had been careful to avoid cameras over the last six months. For the most part she'd lived her life as if she’d ceased to exist, until Saturday when she'd wined and dined with fashion's best and brightest. For one night she'd indulged herself with a bit of normalcy. San Francisco had been for her, she could admit that, but not today; today had been for the kids. How would Toni's possible pictures change the bubble she and Jerrod had built? "What are we going to do?"

"Get out of here and lay low until we've figured out what we're dealing with."

"She's not interested in me," she reassured herself as much as Jerrod. "She wants the next Lily story, just like the rest of the reporters in this town."

"Abby, you
are
the next story." He shoved his hands in his pockets with more force than usual.

She shook her head. "I'm not. Not yet. Not until Fashion Week."

He eyed her as the doors opened, and they headed down the hall.

"I know you're mad at me—"

"I'm not mad at you, Abigail."

"You're definitely not happy."

"No, I'm not. This scenario right here is exactly what I've been trying to avoid. Your situation is complicated enough without adding Toni Torrell to the picture. "

"I wish I could make you understand how important this was."

"I do."

"No, you don't. I had to do this. I had to do it for the kids."

"Abby—"

"I
was
these kids, Jerrod." She pulled on his arm, stopping him, desperate to make him understand. "Lex had the ambitions and responsibilities while I floated down the road to nowhere. Ms. Beesley helped me make my prom dress. She helped me find my spark. My whole life changed after that. I can do that for them. Did you see Latisha's eyes, and Jeremiah's? They're hungry to learn, and they have potential. They can make it in this industry. They just need guidance and the advantages Lily can offer."

He sighed. "I get it."

She stared into his eyes, realizing he did truly get it, and took his hand, squeezing. "
Thank
you."

He squeezed back. "You're welcome. We have to go." He pulled her closer to him as they walked from the side entrance, and Hunter and Ethan pulled up in one of Ethan Cooke Security's black Suburbans.

"Why are they here? I thought you were going to call a cab."

"They were in the area."

Ethan got out of the passenger’s side in slacks and a polo shirt and opened the back door.

Abby slid in the backseat, pushing over as Jerrod got in next to her. Within moments they were through the parking lot and back among the flow of traffic. She waited for the conversation to start or for Hunter to tell one of his jokes, but no one spoke as one mile turned into two, then three.

She stared through the windshield, bopping her leg up and down, absorbing the tension choking the silent car. Restless, she glanced from Hunter to Ethan to Jerrod, then out the window into the thick city traffic, trying desperately to keep her shoulders relaxed as her unease grew. She and Jerrod had never been picked up like this before. Typically they did their own thing. Austin had accompanied them on their trip to San Francisco, but this was different. Everything was suddenly different, and she realized her world was about to shrink again.

She'd attended Lily's dinner party and the event today. Tomorrow she would do her shoot with
Trendy
, then she would more or less be confined to the condo unless plans were cleared through Jerrod first. Her friends would stop coming over; her every move would be watched as closely as it had been in the stash house.

She squirmed at the idea of being imprisoned in her own home, much like she had been in the hot, tiny closet.
You like the closet, yes? Maybe you will stay in here forever.
Dimitri's laugh and the door closing, locking her back in the airless space, echoed through her head. Abby swallowed as her throat constricted and cold sweat beaded along her forehead. She pressed a hand to her chest as her heart began to race. The Suburban didn’t have enough air. “I need—I need to roll down the window. It’s too hot in here.”

“We’re almost there," Jerrod said.

She yanked at the buttons on her coat and ripped it off, certain she was on the verge of passing out. “I can’t breathe,” she gasped, too overcome with fear to be embarrassed when Ethan looked back at her. “I have to get out right now.” She scooted toward the door, reaching for the handle, even as Hunter continued driving.

Jerrod snagged her arm in a firm grip and pulled her back to his side. “Abigail. We’re almost home,” he repeated firmly.

"No." She clawed at his hand holding her in place. "I'm going to faint. I can't catch my breath."

He held her chin between his fingers. "Abby, deep breaths—in for two, out for four." He rolled his window down, and cool, smoggy air blew against her cheeks, carrying the scent of Jerrod’s soap with it.

She squeezed his hand like a lifeline and breathed deep, wiping at her face with her forearm as the clutches of terror released her and a rush of humiliation took its place. Dropping her head, she closed her eyes, perilously close to tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just lost it.”

“Panic attacks are a bitch," Hunter piped up. "I have them from time to time. Fucking PTSD."

She sent him a small smile in the rearview mirror, grateful for his understanding. “They really suck.”

“You’re not kidding. They’re pretty tough on a guy’s ego.”

“I bet.”

They both grinned.

“You good?” Jerrod asked as they approached South Grand Avenue.

She was still shaky, but it would pass. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He let go of her hand as Hunter took the turn, heading into the parking garage. Hunter pulled up to the lobby entrance, and Ethan got out. He came around and opened her door, shielding her exit as Jerrod hugged his arm around her waist, stepping out just after she did. “I’ll call you later,” Jerrod said to Ethan.

“We’ll keep our eyes on the headlines and see where this thing goes.”

Jerrod nodded as Abby slid her card in the slot and they went inside.

“Afternoon, Mrs. T, Mr. T,” Moses said as he pressed the “up” button on the elevator.

“Good afternoon, Moses," she and Jerrod said at the same time as they stepped in.

"Enjoy your day."

"You too," Abby replied as the doors slid closed and she glanced from their side-by-side reflection to Jerrod.

He turned his head, meeting her stare. "You okay?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know." She shrugged, shaking her head. "I don't know what I am."

The elevator dinged, sliding open. Jerrod stepped out first. “We’re good.”

She followed as he unlocked the door, stepping in before him, happy to be home as she sagged against the wall and pulled off her boots. “How bad is this, Jerrod?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll have to keep our eyes on the papers and see what Toni's up to.”

She walked to the living room and plunked herself on the couch, pulling the elastic from her hair, massaging her scalp, trying to banish the tension.

Jerrod poured a glass of water and settled himself on the opposite cushion.

 She stared out the window as she continued kneading at the ache along the base of her skull. “Tomorrow’s it. After tomorrow I’m finished. No more unnecessary risks.”

“You need to be.”

She looked at him. “What if it's too late?”

“We'll monitor the situation and go from there."

"What's the worst-case scenario?"

"Worst-case scenario is always evacuation, but let's take this in steps."

She nodded, hating the idea of picking up and leaving everything behind. “I’m sorry again for freaking out.”

He shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“Yes, it is. Every panic attack is a step in the wrong direction. Have you ever had one?”

“No.” He set his glass on a coaster on the coffee table.

“I never did either until all of this happened." She stood, overwhelmed by the day, by her entire life. "Not all that long ago I was any other normal woman making her way in the world." And she wanted that back, desperately.

"You still are."

She laughed, refusing to give in to the bitterness of her reality. Her mother let anger and misery eat her whole until eventually she'd given up—a path she never wanted to go down. "No. Not even close." She shook her head. "I'm going to get to work." Right now her sketchpad and fabric felt like the only ‘normal’ she had.

Abby wore her soft white robe and sat in the makeup
chair, closing her eyes as Jackie lined her lids and Marco curled the ends of her hair. She savored the familiar sensations of brushes gliding along her skin and gentle fingers moving through her black locks in lulling strokes. It had been
months
since she'd taken her place in front of the blinding bulbs of the vanity mirrors. She missed playing dress up; she yearned to strut down the runway as she'd done hundreds of times before.

“So, what's
Escape
all about?” Connie Withers,
Trendy
's Fashion Editor, asked as she sat in the next chair over, typing away on her laptop.

“
Escape
is a high-quality fashion line that not only looks great but has a purpose. Our goal at Lily Brand is to give every endangered woman caught in a bad situation the opportunity to get away and start over. Everyone deserves a chance to begin again.”

“Open your eyes, Abby,” Jackie murmured.

She did, just as Jackie came at her with a thick mascara wand.

"And how does
Escape
and Lily Brand plan to accomplish this?"

"We'll open safe houses in the Baltimore and Los Angeles areas to start. We hope to have our first two locations up and running by mid-March. One hundred percent of
Escape
's profits will go to emergency housing for those in need of a safe place to stay. Counselors will be on hand. Outreach and job training will also be available."

"This sounds great, Abby—and lofty."

She shrugged her shoulders as Jackie applied blusher and Marco pulled the last of her hair needing curls from the small twist he'd created with a clip. "It sounds like the right thing to do."

“The
Escape
line is your baby. You came up with the idea after surviving quite an ordeal of your own."

"Yes." She relaxed her tensing shoulders as she met Jerrod's eyes in the mirror. He sat on the couch behind her, watching her closely.

There was no way to avoid the conversation. The topic of her abduction would come up again and again while she promoted the new line. It was time to get used to that. "I definitely saw the darker side of humanity, but I also had a chance to see the strength we all posses to survive and overcome."

"Is that what you're doing? Surviving, overcoming?"

She uncurled her hands hidden below the black smock. "No. I did survive, now I'm picking up the pieces and moving on. My goal is to leave the past behind and continue looking ahead. I have a lot of amazing things coming my way.”

Connie gave her a nod of approval.

“So, what did you think of
The Times
article accusing Lily Brand of not only hiring prostitutes but paying them below the standard wage?"

She swallowed the rush of anger as she thought of Toni Torrell. “I would say her accusations are irresponsible journalism. Our goal at Lily Brand is empowerment, no matter an individual's background. All of our models are paid above union wage. The men and women on our teams do their jobs well. Their past has little to do with their rate of compensation."

"Well said."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"And what about today's headlines? Lily's Youth Program has been a well kept secret."

And she thanked her lucky stars she was still in the clear. Fate had been on her side when Toni's camera captured Lily and the kids crowded around their new equipment while she had been on the main floor speaking with Jerrod. By some miracle she'd dodged the headlines for another day. "Lily's focus is always on helping others—"

The studio door slammed, and Abby jumped as Zenn MacGreggor walked in the room, followed by his harried assistant. "I'm ready to begin." Zenn clapped twice for everyone's attention, as if his three-inch, bleached blond spikes and funky, checkered black and white top weren't enough to draw the eye.

“Oh, we better wrap this up,” Connie said with a roll of her eyes. Zenn MacGreggor was well known for his brilliant photography and impossible demands. “Thanks for sitting down with me, Abby.” Connie held out her hand.

Abby returned her handshake. “Thank you for giving
Escape
great publicity.”

“I’m happy to help.” Connie stood, gathering her tape recorder and laptop. “I wish I could say enjoy your shoot, but I won’t bother.”

Abby laughed.

“Where’s my model?” Zenn barked.

“Oh dear,” Jackie mumbled as she slid a final brush of powder along Abby’s temples.

"Let's make this
happen
, people." Zenn clapped again.

Abby met Jerrod’s eyes in the mirror for the second time, and she shrugged.

He smiled and went back to reading his paper.

“Ms. Harris.” A tiny woman with bright red streaks in her black hair hurried her way. “I’m Leah, Zenn’s assistant. If there’s anything you need, just let me know. Come with me and we’ll get you set up for the first shots.” She grabbed Abby’s arm, pulling her to the changing area before Jackie could remove the long black smock. “We have several series we’ll run through. Your image will be used throughout the magazine.” She closed them in the dressing room.

Abby eyed the doorknob. “Uh, I need that open.”

“Huh? Excuse me?” Leah turned back with the first outfit in hand, one of Lily's long red dresses that would leave little to the imagination.

She swallowed, loosening the tight ball in her throat. “The door. Please open the door.”

“Oh, sorry. All the way?”

“No. Just a couple of inches is fine.”

Leah opened the door.

“Thank you.”

“Where is my
model
?” Zenn hollered.

“Ugh. Here, turn.” Leah yanked Abby around and pulled off the smock. “Get this on before he throws a tantrum.”

"
Before
he throws a tantrum?"

"This is nothing."

Abby disrobed in front of Leah, too accustomed to being half naked to feel shy. There was little room for modesty in this business. She secured the strapless, backless bra in place and slid the slinky dress over her head, careful not to mess up Marco and Jackie's hard work. She examined herself in the mirror as Leah pulled up the zipper, stopping an inch above her butt, and tied the two strings at the back of her neck. The long dress clung to every curve, exposing most of her right leg, a healthy peek at her cleavage, and left her entire back naked—elegant and extremely sexy.

“Perfect,” Leah smiled. “You look incredible. Let’s go make Zenn happy. I like it so much better when he’s happy.”

Abby chuckled. “I’ll do my best to make him delirious.”

“I wouldn’t hate that.”

They stepped out, and Marco slid two bracelets on her wrist as she walked by. She noted that Jerrod was no longer sitting on the couch.

“Yes! Yes!” Zenn clapped again. “You were almost worth the wait. Come to me.” The man was skinny as a rail and no more than five-foot seven, yet he terrified everyone.

She searched for Jerrod among the cluster of light poles and meters, the makeup space and opened bathroom door. Where was he? Jerrod never left her when they were out. Her brows furrowed with concern as he stepped from the studio's kitchenette, pausing as he put his phone away. Their eyes met.

“I think you might have to knock this guy out,” she said out of the corner of her mouth as Leah dragged her past him. She glanced over her shoulder, waiting for Jerrod's smile, but he only stared at her. Was everything okay? She stopped, pulling away from Leah. "Hold on." She walked to Jerrod. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

She studied his calm eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I was checking in with Ethan. You'll be the first to know if something's up. Go take your pictures."

"Okay."

"Come
on
, model," Zenn huffed with his hands on his hips.

Abby rolled her eyes and turned.

“Stand over there.” Zenn pointed to the ‘x’ taped on the floor. "Music!"

Leah hustled across the room. Seconds later music blasted into the room.

"Test shots," he said as he pulled the camera up in front of his face. “Yes! Yes! The camera
loves
you. Leah, fans.”

Leah played with the flow of cool wind blowing Abby's way while Zenn fiddled with his light meters.

Abby looked at Jerrod as he took his seat on the couch, grabbing a magazine this time, searching for any hints of tension. He seemed relaxed.

“Over here, model! Over here! Give me some movement.”

She focused on Zenn and moved her arms and hips, dancing for the lens, jutting her right leg out as she played with the hem of the dress.

“Fabulous. I'm in love! Good. Good. Perfect. But I want more. Give me more."

And she gave it, turning, bending, strutting, consumed by the euphoria of doing one of the things she loved best while Zenn followed her around. The worry of headlines and precautions vanished as she got lost in the glory of posing. How could she have forgotten the rush of working the camera?

"Yes! Yes!" Zenn lifted his head, breathless. "Go change."

Four wardrobe changes and two hairstyles later, Abby stopped for a sip of water as she sat by Jerrod on the arm of the couch in a simple pink tank top, denim shorts, and strappy leather sandals.

“Fix her hair, Marco. I want her ready for spring. Leah, where’s my male model?" He glanced at his watch. "Where the hell
is
he?”

“I don’t—I don’t know, Zenn,” Leah answered.

“He’s late,” he spat. “I don’t have time for late. My flight leaves in six hours.”

Marco hustled over with a kit of hairbrushes, ties and spray, immediately pulling Abby's hair up in a ponytail.

“Abby, are you all right if I step out for a couple minutes?” Leah asked, rolling her eyes.

“Definitely.” Poor Leah couldn’t possibly make enough to put up with the man talking to his cameras. He was
insane
. With a small shake of her head, Abby slapped her hand on Jerrod's shoulder while Jackie freshened her makeup. “How you holding up, big guy?”

“If I had some earplugs I’d be fine. That guy’s obnoxious.” He tossed a look toward Zenn.

“He’s very passionate about his art,” she tried.

His brow rose. “I’m feeling passionate about a right hook.”

She laughed, and Jackie chuckled.

Leah came back in and muttered something to Zenn, which sent him into another tirade.

“Oh, shit. I’m outta here.” Jackie grabbed her brushes on the table and abandoned ship.

"I'm coming with you." Marco hurried after her.

“How can I create a masterpiece when I’m missing a
subject
? I need a model.” Zenn whirled. “You.” He pointed to Jerrod. “Take off your shirt.”

Jerrod set down his fitness magazine. “Huh?”

“Lose the shirt, socks and shoes, and put this on.” Zenn threw a sage green button down his way. “You've got good bones and excellent muscles. The camera will like you well enough.”

Abby rushed up from her makeshift seat, trying to stop a disaster in the making. “Uh, he’s not a model, Zenn.”

“He is today. I have to have these shots
now
. I'm leaving for Europe this evening.”

“Yes, but—”

“If you want this exposure for your line, we need these pictures. No exceptions. I have a vision. No model and I scrap the whole thing.” He crossed his arms like a spoiled child.

“Oh.” What else could she say? She looked at Jerrod, trying to find a way to make this work for everyone. “How do you feel about having a couple of pictures taken?”

“I feel like it’s not going to happen.”

“Okay.” She nibbled her lip as her stomach sank.
Escape
needed this; it was national exposure. “Um, how about we change things around,” she suggested to Zenn.

“Change things around? Why, yes, what an idea. Let’s change things around. Why didn’t I think of that?” He slapped his hand against the table, and Abby flinched.

“All right already.” Jerrod rushed to his feet. “I’ll take the damn picture.” He toed off his sneakers, yanked his navy blue polo from his jeans, pulling it over his head, throwing it to the couch.

Holy
wowza
. Abby tracked her eyes up every glorious inch of Jerrod's cut body, surrendering to the rages of lust rushing through her belly. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him without his shirt on. Four. Four measly opportunities to ogle all of that yumminess. He was
magnificent
—broad shoulders, great pecs, a washboard stomach she wanted to brush her fingers down. And that tattoo, the criss-crossy band encircling an inch of his amazing right bicep.

“See, you’ll do just fine,” Zenn said.

Jerrod put on the green shirt and started buttoning.

“No, leave it undone. Now come.” Zenn left the room with Leah following quickly behind.

Abby hooked her arm through Jerrod's as they walked down the hall. “I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what else to do.”

Jerrod grunted as they turned into the third room on the left, stepping into a space that looked like a country backyard; fake flowers, bushes, and a wraparound porch included. A swing hung tied to a fake, thick tree branch sprouting from the wall.

“Sit on the swing,” Zenn demanded as he read his light meters.

Abby started toward the wooden swing.

“No, him.”

“Zenn, this is Jerrod,” Abby tried.

“Yes. Fine. Whatever. Sit.”

Jerrod took his seat, and Leah rushed over to fix his shirt, rolling the sleeves halfway up his forearms, pulling at the sides so that his stomach was exposed.

“Look at me, Jerrod.”

Jerrod looked at Zenn, clenching his jaw.

“Son of a bitch, you’re brilliant. The camera
wants
you. Abby, hop on the swing.”

Jerrod moved to stand.

“No, stay. Abby, on his lap, facing him. I want you to swing. It’s a warm spring day. You’re a couple laughing, enjoying each other’s company. Make it happen.”

Jerrod scooted back, eyeing Abby as she climbed on awkwardly and hooked her legs behind him, placing her hands above his on the rope. “I’m
so
sorry. You have no idea.”

“You owe me big time.”

“I know.” She smiled apologetically.

Leah swooped in and fussed with both of their outfits, pulling here, tugging there, taking the hip holster from Jerrod's belt, holding it gingerly between two fingers. "I'll just hold this for you."