Monochrome (25 page)

JOHN BROUGHT
THEM
two cold ham sandwiches, two dark beers and two sleeping bags. Abigail thanked him. Not meeting her gaze, John nodded once and excused himself. “Need to get back to the desk. This job never sleeps. Don’t be surprised if I get customers real late or real early.”

Ishmael thanked John, too, and the large man walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. After finishing their food, they both spread their sleeping bags out on their cots. Ishmael didn’t seem in the mood for talk (he rarely was), but she wanted to settle plans before he fell asleep.

“I think we should leave first thing in the morning,” she intoned.

He groaned from his cot. “Yes, I know you’re eager to get home.”

“It’s not just that. I think we need to spend as little time here as possible.”

Ishmael was silent for a moment then said, “I think we’re fine, but if it turns out we’re not, just remember your promise.” He shifted on his cot, to better see her. “I get caught, you don’t come searching for me. Head to the border and don’t look back.”

Abigail folded her arms over her chest and stared at the ceiling. “Let’s just try not to get caught. Leaving early might help.”

Ishmael pulled his hat out of the back of his jeans, where he’d been stashing it while going incognito. He put the hat over his face and mumbled, “Good night, Abby.”

Her tension wouldn’t sleep. She jumped at every noise from outside the door of their room. She heard a few customers come and go, and held her breath, straining to hear their conversation, but time passed and danger seemed less imminent.

The shop was growing quieter and quieter, until all she heard was the steady sound of Ishmael breathing and John shuffling papers at his desk. She wondered if the man ever slept or if, tonight, something special kept him awake. Finally, her weariness overtook her watchfulness and the sleep of the overwrought stole her.

*

Abigail woke to the dull clang of the shop door. Ishmael was sleeping too soundly to be bothered by the ring. She got up from her cot and opened the door a crack to see what kind of visitors John welcomed at such an early hour. The visitors were both tall, but other defining characteristics eluded her thanks to the dim lights of the shop.

Her intuition told her she needed to see the two visitors better. She slipped out of the room, leaving the door open a crack behind her. She made her way soundlessly through rows of shelves until she was behind the shelf nearest the counter where John sat.

The visitors were speaking in whispers, which made her hair rise on the nape of her neck. Who were they keeping their conversation from? She strained to hear the exchange and silently gasped when she recognized the voice of one of the tall visitors. She put her hand to her mouth in astonishment.

“You’ll get your payment when I’m sure you got them both.” Eric. His sticky-sweet voice hit her like a punch in the gut.

John raised his voice to answer. “You won’t hurt them, though, right? I done what the boss said. I done my part, even though I don’t like it. Just let me go get ‘em. There ain’t nowhere they can run, so let’s do this calm.”

Abigail sensed the sneer in Eric’s voice as he answered, “What happens to them isn’t your business. You’re lucky the boss don’t take a gold from you for waiting so long to tell us you had them.”

John’s answer was gruff. “Ishmael was good to me. I wanted him to have a good sleep. It ain’t right what I did, but I need the payment the boss promised. I want my wife back.”

She peeked around the bookshelf, wondering how she was going to alert Ishmael. She
needed
to find a way out of here. What she saw stopped her in her tracks, though.

Eric lifted a jar from inside his long trench coat. “I’ve got your memories here.”

John’s eyes grew wide. “Darla.” He eagerly reached for the jar.

Eric snatched it back from him and the large man clenched his teeth in anger. Eric waved a finger at him. “Nuh uh. Not until I have the convicts.”

John’s whole body drooped, his black eyes shone with defeat. “This way.”

Abigail realized she was beyond warning Ishmael. She’d waited too long. The best she could do was hide somewhere and devise a way to help him. She kicked herself for not listening to her instincts last night. John and the two men, Eric and, she cursed to herself, the man from the gate, made their way to where Ishmael lay sleeping. He must’ve suspected them, after all.

She tiptoed to a staircase at the far end of the store. The front door was the most familiar escape, but she’d be too visible. She bit back angry tears, listening to the commotion of Ishmael being aroused from his sleep. Not wanting to hear anymore, she raced up the stairs and into an empty hallway. The noise from below was picking up in volume. She heard a pained grunt and Eric’s voice asking after her angrily.

Panicked, Abigail scanned the room and saw two black doors on either side of her. She stood there, in panic, wondering which of the four doors in the wood-paneled hall she should choose. They were all painted with a bold, gold number, and looked fairly similar, but if she chose the wrong one it could mean her capture. Before she was able to decide, the first door on her right swung open.

A spiky-haired blonde women in her late forties saw her standing wide-eyed in the hall and motioned for her to come into the room. “In here, doll. Quick now!”

There was no time to wonder whether she was making a foolish move, trusting the woman. She ducked into the room, and the woman locked two bolts behind her.

“You came in last night,” The blonde woman with blue-black eyes whispered.

Abigail nodded. “Yes. I can’t explain it all, but there are men downstairs and they might come after me. They have my friend.”

The woman frowned. “Dear Ishmael, my sweet softy.”

She didn’t ask the woman how she knew Ishmael because she realized she was in the Red Street Brothel, and she knew his acquaintance with her might fall within the professional realm. Abigail was annoyed to feel jealousy creep up her back.

The woman was rummaging through a closet and tossed a few items her way—a skimpy black and red bustier and matching ruffled panties and garter. “Put those on, love.”

Abigail blushed as she undressed and put the, hopefully clean, garments on. The blonde woman rushed to the door, listening intently. “I think they’re coming up.”

She examined Abigail, took her old clothes and shoved them under her bed. “I wish we could do something about your hair and make-up, girl.”

Without thinking, Abigail closed her eyes tightly and brought to mind an incident she’d never forget—the time she let her sister, Gracie, bleach her hair. She pictured the way she looked when her sister handed her the mirror, laughing like a hyena.

Her make-up and piercings vanished as she remembered her shocked face that day. She opened her eyes to see the older woman gaping at her. “How…”

But Abigail didn’t have time to explain. Moments later, loud footfalls pounded outside the door to the woman’s room.

John’s voice sounded outside her door after a brief and firm knock. “Lily, I have some people here who need to check your room.” Lily motioned for her to face the window. She obeyed, hands shaking. She tried to act like the prostitutes she saw from below yesterday, enticingly leaning over the windowsill.

Lily shouted, “You got some nerve pounding on my door this time of day. You better have payin’ customers with you is all I’ve got to say.” She unbolted the door and stepped aside.

John walked in apologetically. “I’m sorry, Lil’, but these men need to search your women’s quarters. They’re searching for a convict, young lady with brown or red hair.”

Lily waved a casual hand at Abigail. “You know I’m not a morning person, John. It’s me and Viola. Like always. See for yourself.”

Abigail heard recognition in John’s voice, but was surprised by his answer. “Hey, Vi. You seen anyone roaming the halls up here?”

The lie in his voice wasn’t obvious, but it surprised her. She didn’t want to turn around, for fear her face might give her away. Instead she stuck out her rear in what she thought was an alluring manner, dropped her voice to what she hoped was a husky, sexy tone and, for some unfathomable reason, put on a New York accent. “I don’t have patience for nobody but customers right now.” She lifted her right hand and flipped him off without glancing back.

To his credit, John stayed in character. “Pleasant as always, Vi. Been sassy since she came here, ‘bout a month ago.” She heard John explain to Eric and the guard.

The guard laughed sickly. “I like ‘em sassy.”

Eric whistled. “If the front is as nice as the back, I might have to stay. As a matter of fact, the boss likes me to be thorough. Why don’t you come over here, lovely?” His voice was sticky caramel. She heard him step forward and stop abruptly.

Lily dropped her voice to a hiss. “You and your friend can stay put, asshole. Even if you were paying we aren’t selling to the likes of you.”

She threw her next sentence over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Vi. Keep window duty. One woman at the window at all times. That’s the number one rule. Got it, hun?”

“Yeah, you told me already, Lil.”

Lily spun back towards the men, her voice stark. “That piece of shit isn’t allowed up here, John. I believe I told you that before. And you bring him to my room? He’s lucky he still has a dick.”

John cleared his throat. “Sorry, Lil. Not up to me.”

Lily harrumphed. “We’re done here. What you see is what you get.
You’re
not welcome here, slime, so we’re done with this exchange, now. The only person allowed to come any closer is the one you have in a gag.”

Eric snorted. “Sorry, but the boss has business with this one. If you or your ladies happen to see his friend…”

Eric raised his voice, making sure Abigail heard him. “Tell her we’re taking her boyfriend to the Manor. If she doesn’t come to collect the asshole before nightfall, the memories she owes will be taken from him.”

She wasn’t sure if Eric projected his voice because he knew who she was and expected her to follow, or because he thought Vi was less loyal than Lily. Either way, her skin crawled.

Eric threw his voice down the hall. “You search the other rooms?”

The guard must’ve nodded in the affirmative. “She probably went out the front door when we were distracted. She’d have to be an idiot to go this way, anyway. Nowhere to hide in the whore’s quarters.”

Eric grunted. “She’s as sharp as any woman, which isn’t saying much. She’ll come. She’s not smart enough to leave without dipshit here.”

John excused himself. “Thanks, ladies, we’ll let you get your beauty rest now.”

Lily shut the door firmly in his face and bolted it again. Abigail listened to the sound of their footsteps fading away. She backed out of the dim silver light of the morning, but stayed just in the window and watched as Eric and the guard hauled a limping and gagged Ishmael by both arms.

She watched Ishmael shift to check her window. His eyes were hard and he shook his head, “No.”

He wasn’t fooled by her disguise, then, but he knew what she used her memories to change, and Eric didn’t. He also spent more time staring at her, too, if she were being honest.

He didn’t want her to follow him, but, watching him being dragged behind Eric, she knew she couldn’t do otherwise. Eric might’ve suspected her, though she couldn’t be sure. Either way, he was sure she’d get the message he was sending to Lily. They were there for her
.
And they would take her memories from Ishmael if she didn’t show.

Abigail followed the trio with her eyes but spoke to Lily. “Thank you.”

Lily was wiping a tear from her eye. She waved Abigail’s apology off. “Girls gotta stick together. Especially in a place like this. Eric is evil. I knew him when I saw him walking up to the shop this morning. He won’t come in my room, not after what he did to one of my girls last time he was here. I’ll take his balls next time I get the chance.” Abigail raised her eyes in surprise.

Lily grimaced in hatred. “There’s no need for a knife when you’re paying a lady to do what you want. He ain’t welcome here and he knows it. My Kira killed herself not long after being with him. She wasn’t happy, but she was gone after what happened with him.”

Her stomach ached for the woman she didn’t know whose life was now gone. She knew Eric was a creep, but she wasn’t sure she knew the extent of it.

“I’m sorry. I have to go now. They have Ishmael. I have to get him.”

Lily put a gentle hand on Abigail’s arm. “You don’t want to go where they’re goin’, love. I just saved you the trouble of seeing a place that’ll only bring you pain. They’re taking him to Cognition Manor. People who come outa’ there are never the same.”

Abigail swallowed. “Even so, I have to. You know where it is?”

Lily sounded old beyond her years when she said,“It ain’t hard to find. I’ll tell ya’, but only because I’m fond of him. John is gonna get it from me.”

“Not if I get to him first.”

Lily frowned. “John is a good man. I can’t imagine what got into him.”

Abigail bristled in anger. She’d never forgive him if Ishmael was hurt. “So, where’s this place?”

Lily drew her a rough map on a piece of paper she pulled from her vanity, and handed it to Abigail, putting her hands around Abigail’s as she did so. “Be careful. The Manor is full of the worst sort of people. They surround the boss like fruit flies surround rotten fruit.”

“Seems like pretty much every place I go is filled with worse people than the last.”

Lily wrung her hands nervously. “It feels like that, I know. But I hope I’ve shown you kindness.”

Abigail felt bad for unintentionally lumping Lily in with people like Eric. “You have. I’m sorry. It’s just been a long few days.”

Lily patted her hand before dropping it. “I wish you well on your way, wherever that is.”

Abigail straightened. “I’m going to get Ishmael and I’m going home.”

Lily laughed sadly. “You sound like you just might.”