Controlled: The Dollhouse, Part Two (5 page)

“
N
ot that nice
.”

“
Y
ou’re never going
to find a boyfriend, acting like that.”

T
he door dinged
and a young couple with stroller came into the diner.

“
W
hy don’t
you take them,” I said, hoping to distract her.

S
he gave
me a knowing look but grabbed two menus off of the stack. “Make sure you put those roses in some water before they wilt.”

I
gathered
the roses up in my arms, petals soft as they brushed against my skin. As I looked closer, I realized that the roses weren’t just red. The bright crimson was only at the tips. At their centers the blossoms were a yellow so bright that it looked nearly like gold.

M
y fingers tipped open
the little card that nestled between two buds. A simple message was written on it in slanting script.

Y
ou can’t run
.

-J

“
D
alea
, get those tamales off of they stove before they burn.”

I
rushed
to comply with Momma’s instructions, carefully laying the corn husks on a clean dishtowel that sat on the counter to cool. Today was the first day since she’d been sick that Momma felt good enough to be out of bed for more than a few minutes.

S
he was making
use of the time by cooking a huge family dinner for all of us and had enlisted me to help her. If it weren’t for the little oxygen tank that had to be wheeled around behind her, this would have felt just like old times.

“
D
id Luis say
what time he would be home?” she asked.

I
glanced at the clock
. “He’s just working the lunch shift, so maybe another hour or so.”

S
he opened
the oven a scant distance and peeked inside before closing it. “Empanadas are still his favorite, right?”

I
knew
what she was trying to do. “Everything will be fine tomorrow. The public defender nearly promised that Luis won’t be locked up.”

M
omma shook her head
, dislodging the plastic piece in her nose that delivered the oxygen. “That’s what they always say, until they don’t.”

“
E
verything’s going
to be fine, Momma.”

S
he inspected the tamales
, giving a little grunt of approval. “At least he’ll get one more good meal at home, regardless.”

M
y little sister
, Lucy, flew into the kitchen. “I’m hungry. Dinner weady?”

“
N
ot yet
,” Momma said, sinking down into a chair at the table, looking tired. “Go watch TV.”

L
ucy peeked
around me to look at the stove. “But I’m hungry.”

“
N
o
, Lucy!” Momma said, sharply enough that my sister jumped.

“
N
ot until Luis gets home
, okay.” I went to the refrigerator and poured her a glass of milk. “Take this and go finish your show.”

L
ucy looked back
and forth between us, the confusion apparent on her face. She had gotten so used to Momma’s silent presence that it was hard to go back to doing things her way.

W
hatever my sister thought
, she took the milk and headed back out into the living room without saying a word. The sound of canned laughter from whatever show she was watching was loud enough to be heard in the kitchen.

“
T
his place is too
small for all of us,” Momma said, her voice strained.

“
I
t’s all
we can afford right now.” I said flatly. “Especially now that you’re not working.”

“
W
atch your mouth
, young lady.”

A
nger and frustration
simmered inside of me. Didn’t she realize that I wasn’t a child anymore, that I’d proved that many times over?

“
I
t’s just the truth
. And you shouldn’t take it out on Lucy, none of this is her fault.”

M
omma reached
up to stir the pot on the stove with harsh strokes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“
Y
es
, I do,” I said, loud enough that it was nearly a yell. “It’s just been me this entire time, Momma. Ever since you got sick, I’ve had to worry about paying the bills and keeping food on the table. You have no idea what I’ve had to do—“

I
cut myself off
, realizing what I had been about to reveal.

“
N
ever mind
, let’s just finish dinner.”

“
I
’m sorry
, Dalea.” Momma grabbed my hand and squeezed it weakly. “I know how strong you’ve had to be, between working at the diner and taking care of your brother and sister. Things will be better now, I promise.”

“
O
kay
.”

“
H
as
anything else been going on, you seem so tense?”

“
N
o
. Nothing.”

M
y eyes moved automatically
to the roses standing in a vase in the center of our kitchen table. I had removed the card and hidden it in my room. There was no way to adequately explain the cryptic message inside and I didn’t want to be forced to try.

J
ulian was clearly not going
to just go away without a fight. It was going to take all of the willpower I had to resist him, and even that might not be enough.

“
I
can’t believe
that someone would leave such gorgeous flowers at the diner,” Momma said, easily identifying where my gaze had moved.

“
P
eople leave
all kinds of things,” I said casually, already committed to the lie. “Miranda found a tennis bracelet in a glass of water once, but I think the girl came back for it.”

“
Y
ou know
, your father used to send me roses like this when we were dating.”

M
omma never talked
about my dad, not in the three years since he died. It had always been easier to just pretend that he never existed. She got sick so recently afterward that the two events had always been linked in my mind.

I
swallowed hard
against the lump forming in my throat.

M
omma stood
up slowly and went to the table. Her fingers trembled slightly but she reached out to trace the gentle curve of one rose. “They used to look just like this too.”

“
D
ad was a romantic
, huh?”

“
M
ost men are
in the beginning.” Momma let out a hoarse laugh. “But your dad really liked to pull out all the stops.”

I
smiled
, trying to imagine my dad as the romantic hero. “That sounds nice.”

“
E
very rose color has a meaning
, not everyone knows that.”

“
O
h
, yeah?”

“
M
ost people know
that red is for love and passion, but it’s really rather run of the mill, I think.” She adjusted one of the stems so it fell more evenly with the rest. “Yellow roses are joyful, but usually platonic. A man who sends you yellow roses is letting you down easy. He wants to be your friend.”

“
W
hat about these
?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me. “What does it mean when the roses are both yellow and red?”

“
R
oses like this
, with yellow at the center and red on the tips, are very special.” The smile on Momma’s face was wistful. “You send roses like this to your true love.”

H
er words rocked me
. I busied myself at the stove to hide my face because I didn’t want her to see what I was obviously thinking. “How nice.”

“
E
xcept these roses are interesting
.”

S
chooling
my features into a more neutral expression, I turned back to face her. “Oh, why?”

“
T
hese have thorns
. Nobody sends roses with thorns anymore.”

“
W
hat do you mean
?”

“
B
ouquets never have thorns
. The florist always trim them off.” Momma shrugged and sat back in her chair. “Unless they’re asked to leave them, I suppose.”

M
y belly clenched
tight and I had to breathe through the aching sensation. “Why do you think they left the thorns?”

“
I
don’t know
.” Momma said, her mind clearly moving on to other concerns.

I
tried
to keep the desperation out of my voice. “Just tell me what you think.”

“
W
hoever sent
those roses clearly associates love with pain.”

I
left
for my bedroom immediately after dinner, desperate to escape. Momma’s words to me kept echoing in my head and they were impossible to ignore.

T
rue love
.

W
hoever sent
those roses clearly equates love with pain.

M
aybe Julian didn’t know
the meaning of the rose colors. Maybe he had just picked something that looked pretty and the message behind the choice was totally meaningless to him.

O
r maybe not
.

T
he question weighed on me
, haunting my thoughts. I knew that he wanted me — to possess me at least, like a figurine displayed in a glass cabinet that had no will or desires of its own.

B
ut love was
something else entirely.

T
he worst part
was that there was no one that I could talk to about any of this. No one in my life would understand what I had done or why I wanted to do it again. I was completely alone.

I
used to have girlfriends
. The kind that would pick up the phone at any time, who you could spill all of your secrets to and know that they would understand. But for now, I was alone — with my secrets and my secret desires.

W
hen I closed my eyes
, Julian’s face swam in my vision like a waking dream. Imperious eyes and a face that was so cold it could have been carved in marble. I didn’t want to
want
him, but I couldn’t help myself.

I
t wasn’t
until I laid back in the bed and felt hard pricks on my scalp that I realized something was there. My hands slipped underneath the cotton pillowcase and touched something hard and metal.

I
pulled
my hand out and a necklace was twined in my fingers. White gold and diamonds shimmered in the light of a streetlamp through my window.

J
ulian had been here
— in my home and in my bed — or he had sent someone to do his bidding. The thought should have terrified or sickened me, and it did, but tendrils of painful pleasure still curled in my belly.

I
looked
through the opened window to the fire escape that stopped only a few feet from the ground three stories below. Had he come up that way, creeping into my room when no one was home

I
t was
clear that he wanted me, even if I didn’t know for what.

L
uis was dressed
in an ill-fitting suit that used to be my father’s. The shoulders were too wide and the sleeves hung low enough that they nearly covered his hands.

“
M
aybe the judge
will take pity on how stupid I look and let me go,” he said as we stared at his reflection in the glass-walled entryway of the juvenile courthouse.

“
I
don’t think
it works like that,” I said with a half-hearted smile. “But it can’t hurt.”

M
omma had felt
to weak to come with us for the hearing so she’d stayed home with Lucy. Luis and I had come to the courthouse alone.

A
line formed
behind a set of metal detectors manned by two men in black uniforms with guns and handcuffs hanging from each side of their hips.

“
P
lease tell
me that this is the last time we’ll have to do this,” I murmured to my brother as I placed my cellphone and keys into a little plastic tub.

“
N
o shit
, they don’t mess around down here.”

“
L
anguage
,” I snapped.

W
e passed
through the metal detectors without incident and I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that I thought we had anything to hide, but the guns at the security officer’s hips had me unnerved.

“
B
ecause next time
they’ll try you as an adult and I will not be showing up with you for that.”

“
J
eez
, Dalea, I got it.” His tone was exasperated but I heard the note of genuine fear in his voice.

“
W
hat’s
the name on the docket?” asked an unconcerned clerk when we approached the desk of the lobby.

“
L
uis Moreno
.”

“
C
ourtroom Two
.” The clerk pointed down a hallway of identical wooden doors, where dozens of people milled. Luis had been in trouble for minor things before, like truancy and vandalism, so I knew from experience that they would try several cases at one time.

“
W
here is
the lawyer supposed to meet you?” I asked Luis, surveying the long hallway.

“
H
e didn’t say
.”

I
rolled
my eyes at that. My brother was probably one of the thousand cases that the public defender he’d been appointed had to handle. I just prayed the person wasn’t fresh out of college and completely unprepared.

L
uis pressed
close to me as we walked down the crowded hallway. I could feel the slight tremble that he was trying to hide. I was suddenly reminded of how very young my brother was. Underneath all of the youthful bravado lay a scared little boy.

H
e let
me take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. He gripped me hard when I moved to pull away.

“
E
verything is going
to be fine,” I said with a confidence that I didn’t actually feel. “We just need to stay positive.”

“
S
ays
the person who’s not about to be sent to juvie,” Luis said, his voice huffy.

“
M
aybe you’ll remember
this the next time you’re out with Marco and about to do something stupid.”

“
D
on’t be
mad at Marco, he didn’t do nothing.”

“
T
hat’s my point
. How quickly did he start running when the police showed up?’ I asked, rolling my eyes. “We’re the ones at the courthouse right now, not him.”

“
D
on’t be like that
. Marco is my boy.”

“
E
xactly
, a boy.” I skirted around a man and a woman who were crying together outside of one of the courtrooms. “That’s what you call someone who helps you get into trouble, but runs instead of helping you out of it.”

“
Y
ou really want
to talk about this right now?” Luis hissed through his teeth. “Our last conversation before I get put away is about you dogging my friend?”

“
F
ine
, I’ll let it go,” I conceded. “Let’s just find the courtroom.”

T
he courtrooms were arranged
in descending order. We had passed almost half of them already. I peeked inside each open door as we passed to see dozens people inside each one of them. Cases were clearly being tried one after another like an assembly line.

I
felt
a tremble of real fear work through me. The public defender had sounded pretty sure on the phone that Luis wouldn’t see jail time, but it wasn’t really up to him. How many kids just like Luis passed through here each day?

T
he judge had likely seen
hundreds, why would he have any sympathy left for the latest one? And I knew how quick my brother’s temper was, how easy it was for him to react with anger. What chance would he have if he couldn’t keep his cool and blew up at the judge? Luis might get the book thrown at him just out of spite.

L
uis swallowed hard
, but wore a brave face. “We just passed number three. This next one must be it.”

W
e reached
the end of the hallway and were faced with a closed door.

“
I
s it locked
?” I asked nervously. All of the other courtrooms we passed had been open. They weren’t supposed to start taking cases for another twenty minutes. Had I gotten the time wrong? Did they already find Luis guilty? “Try the door.”

T
he ornate handle
turned easily under Luis’s hand. The door creaked slowly open. I expected to face a full courtroom in session and an angry judge, ready to order us clapped in handcuffs and taken away for the heinous crime of interrupting the proceedings.

B
ut there was
no one sitting at the raised bench against the far wall and the room was completely empty.

O
r at least
I thought it was empty. A man, who had been hidden from view behind a row of chairs, stood from one of the front tables and came around to the aisle.

“
T
he Morenos
, I presume.” His accent was neat and cultured.

“
W
ho is this guy
?” Luis asked me in a stage-whisper.

I
turned
to him in surprise. “This isn’t your lawyer?”

“
N
ever seen
this guy before in my life.”

“
M
y name is
John Phillips of Hampton, Phillips and Morgan, Attorneys at Law.” The man reached out a hand with a silver ring on the pinkie finger and manicured nails. “I’ve been retained to represent you.”

T
he expensive suit he wore
, expertly tailored and complete with diamond cufflinks, was a far cry from what the average public defender could afford.

I
ignored the outstretched hand
. “You must be mistaken, we didn’t hire an attorney.”

H
e turned to my brother
. “Are you Luis Moreno?”

L
uis glanced
at me before answering. “Yeah.”

“
T
hen I am your attorney
.” Phillips held up the case file that was way thicker than it should have been. “I’ve managed to have your case reassigned to Judge Hawkins. His son has had a few run-ins with the law over the years so he’s sympathetic to youthful indiscretion.”

M
y brother looked confused
. I was pretty sure he had no idea what
indiscretion
meant
.
“Uh…okay.”

“
Y
ou’ve been attending
school every day and working a job. You’ve stayed out of trouble since the arrest, correct?”

“
Y
eah
.” Luis rubbed his head, looking a little embarrassed. “Ain’t done nothing wrong.”

“
E
xcellent
, then I think it’s very likely that we can do better than probation.” The lawyer tucked the case file underneath his arm and adjusted the sleeves of his suit jacket. “I’m nearly certain that we can get the charges dropped completely.”

“
N
o
, shit?”

“
W
atch it
,” I pinched my brother hard on his arm. “The judge isn’t going to throw out your case when you’re cursing in the courtroom.”

“
S
orry
, Jeez.”

I
turned to the lawyer
, who watched me with a careful smile. “I’m guessing that you’re not from the public defender’s office.”

P
hillips seemed offended
by the very notion. “I am most certainly not.”

“
T
hen I’m
sorry for the misunderstanding, but we can’t afford a private attorney.”

T
he lawyer cleared his throat
. “My services have been retained. You do not need to be concerned with payment.”

“
R
etained
? So someone else has paid you?”

“
Y
es
.”

A
sinking feeling
settled in the pit of my stomach. “Who?”

T
here was
a lengthy pause and the lawyer averted his eyes before speaking. “You know who.”

“
W
hat is he talking about
?” My brother asked, looking between us in confusion.

I
ignored him
, my attention focused on the lawyer. “I’m sorry to waste your time but we can’t accept this.”

“
I
would strongly urge
you to reconsider,” Phillips said, his voice carefully neutral. “I assure you that my credentials are impeccable.”

“
I
t’s not really
your credentials that I’m worried about.”

“
W
ould
you prefer to work with one of my colleagues?”

“
N
o
,” I snapped. I forced myself to take a deep breath before my head spun off into the atmosphere. “No, thank you. We’ll be fine with the court-appointed attorney.”

T
he lawyer tapped
his foot impatiently on the floor, and the bottom of his dress shoe clicked rhythmically against the marble floor. “The public defender’s office has a caseload five times the appropriate size. You’ll be lucky to get someone who remembers your brother’s name from one day to the next.”

“
E
verything will be fine
, thanks.”

P
hillips raised
an eyebrow and nodded at Luis. “Are you sure enough to risk your brother’s freedom?”

“
D
alea
, what are you doing?” Luis hissed at me. “Just let the guy do his job.”

“
Y
ou don’t know
what you’re asking for,” I said flatly. “Nothing comes for free.”

“
P
lease
, I can’t go to jail,” he begged. “It doesn’t matter why the guy is here.”

I
t was an awful choice
. If Luis went to jail it would devastate my family. Even if all he got was probation, the constant threat of going to jail for even the smallest infraction would eventually make him act out even more.

B
ut I also knew what
it would mean if I let Julian do this for us — what he would want from me in return. He wanted to push himself into my life, with the flowers, the necklace and now this. He wanted me in his debt. If I didn’t refuse him now, there would be no turning back.

S
o I had
to make the choice: my brother’s freedom or my own.