Nocturnes (25 page)

I sigh. “No. Not exactly. Shit, I don’t know, man. I liked her. She told me to stay away because her boss didn’t want me hanging around. I tried to respect it, but…I just wanted to say goodbye. Like, for good.”

Another uniform walks up and pulls Blondie aside. He talks quietly, but I can hear him. “There’s nothing on the security cameras. They were turned off. No witnesses outside, either. We found the weapon in the alley. Forensics guys are gonna check it, but there don’t appear to be any prints on the knife.”

My heart drops. This can’t be happening. “That’s because the asshole who attacked her was wearing gloves,” I yell.

Blondie holds up a hand. “Calm down, Mr. Rathbone. We’ll get this sorted out. I need you to come to the station for questioning.”

I explode. “What about Eve? What the motherfucking motherfuck about Eve?” I thrash and push against the fucking cuffs, wrenching away from these fucking assholes who don’t know fucking shit. I gotta get away from the blood all over the goddamn place and the world gone completely batshit motherfucking crazy.

The two officers waste no time going on the offense. They tag team me and shove my face to the ground. Kicking and spitting and screaming until my throat is so raw I can’t speak, I fight them with everything I’ve got, which is next to nothing.

Lights dim. I give in to the madness and let it drown me.

Side B: “Purple Haze”

“Ugh…” I fling up a hand to stop the discomfort attacking my face and meet a strange weave of fabric. Thick. Gauzy. Bright light overhead stings my eyes.

I feel around my cheek. Stickiness along my hairline. Tape? What the hell? I try to sit up. Can’t.

I blink several times to clear my vision. Everything remains blurry. “Where am I? Is anyone here?” My throat burns. Panic nips at my toes. The smell of bleach bleeds into my nose and sends tingles ping-ponging inside it.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I push up again with what little might I have but get nowhere. Soft pillows bunch around my shoulders. “Where the fuck am I?” God, it hurts to talk.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The blurs sharpen enough to reveal crisp white sheets and a thin blanket. I shake my head. I fucking hate the color white.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I rub my eyes—well, one of them. The other is partially blocked by the gauze on my face. The squeak of hinges, followed by the gentle thud of a door hitting bumpers inside a frame and a soft click, tells me someone enters the room.

“Eve. Glad you’re awake, young lady.” The voice is female. I don’t recognize it. She’s close. Clicks tap on a machine, and a couple more beeps sound off.

I paw uselessly at the air in front of me. “What’s going on?”

A fuzzy-along-the-edges face smiles down at me. “You’re in the hospital. I’m your nurse, Kim. There was an accident, but you’re going to be fine, sugar.” She clasps my hand. “I’m going to help you sit up.”

“Okay.” I let her guide me. A mechanical whir combines with upward motion. Hospital bed. Shit. My wary nervous system clenches up and hits the brakes. “What happened to me?”

Once I’m mostly vertical, I can see better. The vague shapes from before crystallize into more distinct objects. A telephone clasped to the side rail on the bed. A television hanging on the opposite wall. A sink. Nurse Kim’s bright pink scrubs.

“Do you have any family we can contact, honey? We couldn’t find anyone except for your boss, and she didn’t have anything on file at your place of employment.”

“My boss?” Oh, not Rico. Charlie.

Rico.

A rush of memories hits me like a tsunami. The alley behind Nocturnes. Two guys. A knife. The vicious slash.

“Shit!” I hold my hands up in front of me, then pat my face again. “What the hell did they do to me? Oh my God, they cut my face, didn’t they? Oh my God…” I’ll never work in Hell again. I’m ruined!

Hyperventilation looms.

Kim lays a firm palm on my shoulder. “Eve, you gotta calm down. You’re fine. Your face will heal. It could have been much worse.”

“No, you don’t understand.” I grab her scrubs. “My face was my life. I can’t work without my…oh my God…” Tears sneak up and launch a surprise attack. Howls barrel out of me, so foreign I don’t even recognize them. My face scrunches up under the bandages. It hurts. Everything fucking hurts.

Kim pushes away from me and fiddles with an IV packet next to my bed. “I’m giving you something to settle your nerves, Eve. Just try to relax. The morphine will make you feel better.”

“Morphine? No, I don’t want that…” As the words leave my lips, a gentle, soothing wave overflows the maddened, raging shores of my mind. The groggy calm intensifies with each heartbeat. In a few minutes, I’m riding that wave like a boss.

“Rest, Eve.” Kim squeezes my hand.

I close my eyes and sleep.

* * * *

When I wake, my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. I smack my gums a few times, hoping to drag a little spit out of my good-for-nothing salivary glands. I get very little.

Someone shakes me. “Eve, there’s a police officer here who wants to speak with you. You up for that?”

Police? What do they want with me?

Ah, shit. The attack in the alley. I slap a hand to my head and croak, “I’m really thirsty. Can I have some water?”

I can see better than when I woke before, but I’m sore all over. A disposable paper cup appears in my hand, and Kim helps me drink. God, water never tasted so good. “More, please.”

“Let’s start off small. You can have some more in thirty minutes. You’re still recovering from anesthesia, hon. Too much liquid might upset your stomach.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The doctor had to stitch you up and repair a nicked vein in your neck. It’s important you remain calm and try not to move your head too much. We don’t want you opening that bugger back up.” Kim smiles.

I press my fingers lightly to the gauze on my face. It runs from under my left eye, over my whole cheek, and down my neck. I swallow. Jesus Christ. I can only imagine what I look like. Tears well. I don’t know if it’s a magnified effect of the drugs, or me assimilating the knowledge that my beautiful face has permanently lost its license to thrill.

My house in the Garden District fades into the distance. My dreams—Mama’s and Papa’s dreams for me—are officially shattered, and no amount of glue will ever piece them back together.

Biting my lip, I inhale as deeply as my tight throat will allow. “You said you talked to my boss Charlie. Is she here?”

“No. A detective is here. I can call Charlie while you speak to him if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to see anyone.”

Kim’s gentle round eyes plead. “Don’t you want to find the people who did this to you, sugar? The police are just trying to help.”

“I know who did it.” My stomach tilts. I remember the cologne from the guy who held me while the other sliced my face open. I can’t believe he would do it to me. Just can’t believe it.

“I’m going to get the officer.” Kim disappears for a moment.

The door opens and shuts, and a middle-aged man in a polo shirt and khaki pants approaches the bed, flashing a police badge. “Hi, Ms. Belikov. I’m Detective Morrison with the New Orleans—”

I don’t look at him as I cut him off. “Duane was one of the guys who attacked me. He’s a bouncer. I thought…I thought he was a friend. Guess Rico’s money was worth more to him than my well-being.”

Morrison drags a chair over and sits. A quick nod to Kim signals her cue to leave. Once she’s gone, he whips out a notebook and a pen. “Duane works at Nocturnes.”

I nod and then flinch. God, moving hurts like hell. “I told Charlie, the owner, that Rico had…coerced me into giving him oral sex to keep my job. Charlie didn’t seem to like that. She said she’d take care of it. She must’ve reprimanded Rico because after that, he got sickly sweet with me at work, bending over backward with offers to ‘help me out.’

“I knew he was full of shit, but I never thought he’d stoop this low.” I touch my neck and bite back the tears.

“Do you have any evidence to prove Rico was behind the attack?”

Now I do meet Morrison’s eyes. “No. He might not have gotten his hands dirty, but he must’ve paid Duane and the other guy to come after me. He made it personal and permanent by telling them to ruin my face.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he wanted to ensure I’d never work at Nocturnes again. I don’t know why he hates me so much. All I can figure is Charlie must’ve reamed him out about the blow job, and he’s not the kind of guy who likes being told he’s wrong, even when he is. He hired someone else to take out his anger on me.”

“Your face will heal in time. You’ll be able to work again.”

I laugh bitterly. This guy has no idea. Scars are a deal breaker in Hell. Not even Charlie will budge on that rule. My life is over.

“What about Rax Wrathbone? You know him?”

“Yes.” A chill passes over me. My heart numbs and freezes into an organic red brick. Where is he? Did Rax ditch me?

Would you really blame him if he did?

“Do you think he was involved?”

Swallowing hard, I look Morrison right in the eyes. “Absolutely not. He tried to save me.”
In his own, fucked-up, drunk way.

The officer nods and asks follow-up questions. I answer, no longer caring about the outcome. He promises to get the bad guy. Then he leaves.

Alone in my hospital room, I have time to reflect on lots of things. I have no insurance. Whatever this luxury stay at
L’Hôtel d’Hopital
is going to cost, it’ll come out of my pocket. That means a huge chunk of my house change just slipped through my fingers. Not that it matters. Now it’ll take me twenty years to save enough to make that dream come true, and that’s assuming I can find a place to dance with a broken face.

God.

I lift my head and stare at the ceiling. “Mama and Papa, I’m so sorry I couldn’t be the woman you hoped I’d be. I guess all my bad choices were for nothing.”

I’m so ashamed of myself. Fat tears streak my cheeks, the bandage, my hospital gown. Shoulders wracking with sobs, sutures pulling under the gauze, I drop my aching face into my hands and let go.

What a fraud. I whored myself out. Risked my own health and safety for money. Gave up my lifelong hope of being a successful ballet dancer to feed the greed under a false pretense of making my dead parents happy.

You know what, Eve Belikov? You can’t pretend to be happy on the outside and truly love yourself. You can’t fake it. You have to
live
it—for yourself and nobody else. Every fucking day.

Inherently, I’ve always known this. I guess it took a traumatic event to make me truly
understand
it.

A few minutes later, Nurse Kim returns. I quickly wipe away my tears.

“Just need to check your vitals,” she says.

“Might wanna hold off on the blood pressure for a bit.” I roll my head toward the window. Wonder what’s out there. Pretty sure the world is gonna look mighty different to me from now on.

She takes my temperature and listens to my heart. Flipping her stethoscope across the back of her neck, she says, “Charlie’s here to see you. You up for it?”

No. “Sure.” Not like anyone else is coming for a visit.

Rax.

Chest tight, I sit up straighter. “Hey, did a guy named Rax call or stop by?”

Kim glances at her watch. Avoids me. “He, uh…”

The door sweeps open, and Charlie waltzes in wearing an oversized black hat and a snazzy, snug red dress that lands just above her knee. The picture of class, as always. She glides over. “I told them not to let Rax in here,” she says casually.

There goes my blood pressure again. The beeping device next to my bed confirms it. “You had no right to do that,” I sputter.
Ouch.
I clamp a hand to the bandages again. I gotta work on keeping calm.

She meets my gaze and crushes it underfoot. “I have
every
right. You listed me on your employment information as the person to contact in the event of emergency. I’m here. And I’m taking care of you as an employee.”

My hackles rise. I wait for Kim to exit before I lay into Charlie. What’ve I got to lose, right? She sure as hell isn’t keeping me around at Nocturnes after…this.

“Taking care of me? You do realize Rico was behind the attack, right? He’s always hated me, and after I told you what he did, he made sure that I’ll never work in Heaven again.”

Charlie settles into the chair the cop recently vacated. “I’ve already dealt with Rico, Duane, and Damon. I gave Officer Morrison everything he needs to arrest them.” She loosens her long, black, kid leather gloves at the tips of each finger and slides them off.

“I’ve also seen to it that your hospital bills are paid. You have my deepest apologies for what happened, Eve. I hope you know I would never condone violence against anyone. Rico’s actions were his own, and now he’ll not only have to face criminal charges in a court of law, but I’ll ensure he’ll never work in New Orleans again.”

She could have hit me right between the eyes with a brick, and I wouldn’t have been this surprised. “I don’t understand. Why defend me?”

“You’re my employee. I care about you, and I have a vested interest in protecting my assets.

“When you told me he bribed you, I docked his salary and warned him if there were any further incidents, he’d be fired. I think hiring thugs to attack an innocent woman more than justifies his termination.”

“You just took my word against his without any proof?”

“Of course not. I checked the security feed from the hidden camera in his office and confirmed your blow job story. I’m very sorry about that too. I was out of town when it happened and hadn’t yet had a chance to review the footage.

“Needless to say, Rico was angry. Pride always goes before a fall, Eve. And Rico has pride in spades. That’s why he sent Duane and Damon after you. The police just called to tell me they’re already in custody. Apparently, Duane and Damon turned themselves in and confessed that Rico hired them to cut you so you couldn’t work at Nocturnes anymore.”