Selling Out (36 page)

“You’re delusional if you think I’m going to run your
business. This business. It disgusts me. The whole thing disgusts, the men and
the women and—“
Me, me, me
. I
disgusted me, though I couldn’t tell him that. “The only reason I did it was
because—”

“Because you had to? Because you didn’t know how to do
anything else? Other people may buy your excuses but not me. You’re smart and
beautiful. You could have done anything, but that’s what you chose to do.”

“I needed the money.”

“Your friend needed the money, and you needed to be the one
to give it to her, didn’t you? That’s your Achilles’ heel.”

“Friends?”

“Pride. You live for the gratitude, for praise. We all have
a weakness. The only question is whether you let it rule you.”

“Do you?”

He paused before answering softly, “I’m afraid so. It’s you,
actually, but you know that.”

Yes, I knew it. I remembered the way his footsteps would
pause outside the door before he came in…much like they had earlier tonight in
the cell. The hesitation wasn’t his conscience—it was his pride. He didn’t want
to be dependent on a little girl. “And you’ve always hated me for it.”

His gaze flicked over me. “You look more like her.”

“Is that all? Would it have turned out differently if I had
looked like you instead?”

“I hated her too.” He looked faraway. “That kind of power is
unnatural.”

I remembered the story my mother had told me about the princess
in disguise. This was the lesson my father would take from it, that a woman
held unshakable power, over her father, over the men in her life. The tale
looked different to each listener, the lessons it told a testament to our
deepest desires.

The most important question came to me, one I had first
thought when he came into my room with a bag of her melted-down jewelry. “Why
did she leave you?”

“It’s dangerous too, that kind of power. I had to stop her.”

“You killed her.” The statement left me with the cold
realization I had always known, or at least suspected. It was better this way,
because she hadn’t left me on purpose. But worse, so much worse. My hate for
him, previously shriveled and tucked away, pulsed with new life.

He smiled, a little vacant, a little sad. “I knew you were
stronger than her. She couldn’t handle what I did, the way I supported our
family. I couldn’t let you go the same way.”

“The devoted father,” I scoffed.

“You can’t question my devotion to you. From the moment she
left us, I made everything about you.”

“It was wrong,” I said, knowing he would mock me.

But he didn’t. His forehead creased. He seemed uncertain, as
if he had pondered this before. “I kept you from ending up like her. She was so
sure of herself. She wanted to leave me, to take you with her. You wouldn’t
have had a chance.”

I wanted to laugh, but it caught in my throat. What chance?
“Is this how you’ve justified it? The excuses you tell yourself so you can
sleep at night? If you were so concerned about my safety, why did you let me
prostitute myself? It’s not exactly OSHA certified.”

“I got you off the streets. Off those goddamn online ads
where any pervert could call you. Henri knew what would happen to him if you
ever got hurt.”

“He hurt me, Daddy. Worse than you.”

“He paid for that,” he said evenly. “He’s probably cold by
now.”

I blinked, turning to look at the building we had left. The
gunshot. “Did you really kill him?”

“Yes, so you can thank me for saving that cop of yours. He was
more trouble than he was worth too, always poking his nose where it didn’t
belong. I think he figured it out, but I’m assuming he never told you that.”

My silence answered him. He hadn’t.

“He’s not who I would have chosen for you, but I think he
loves you. The way I loved your mother.”

I swallowed—no, not like that. Luke had kept his suspicions
from me to spare me pain. My father caused pain and called it love. “I despise
you. You can’t understand how much I hate you.”

“I can,” he whispered. “I haven’t been able to live with
myself since she died. And then you left. It’s been so hard, but I kept myself
from going to you. Doesn’t that count for something? Doesn’t it show I care?”

I squinted, searching, as if I were looking for someone else
inside him, someone who understood the wrongness of his actions and how very
crazy he had become. I found nothing.

He pulled out a gun. I watched with a kind of disinterest.
Would he kill me now? It didn’t quite make sense, didn’t fit with his plans for
me to take over, to become stronger, but then, he was crazy. That was the
problem I’d always had, a little girl trying to find the care and affections in
the actions of a madman.

The metal met the palm of my hand as he pressed it there. He
maneuvered it in my hand so that it pointed at his chest.

“It’s time,” he said. “You can do this.”

I recoiled, but he held me to him. “I’m not going to kill
you. That’s…that’s suicide.”

“Murder,” he corrected gently. “It needs to happen.
Otherwise you’ll never move on. You’ll never find peace.”

Himself. He was talking about himself.

I jerked my hand away, my finger nestled against the
trigger. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Do it.”

“I won’t.”

A flash of anger crossed his face, and I waited for him to
turn on me. He did, but not the way I was expecting. “I watched sometimes.”

My voice faltered. “What?”

“Half the hotels in Chicago have peepholes between the rooms
if you know where to look. If you grease enough palms. Henri would offer them a
hotel room free so we would get the right one. You were good at it, Shelly. I
was so proud of you.”

I felt sick, like I really might throw up all over the gun,
all over him and me and everything. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to
rile me up, make me so angry that I pulled the trigger, but I was better than
that—oh God, wasn’t I?

“I wanted to leave you alone.”

He was pleading now, for me to forgive him, for me to shoot
him—it all swirled together in one sick melee.

“It wasn’t right, the way I couldn’t stop thinking about
you. That wasn’t fair to either of us. I tried other women, other girls. Pretty
ones with blonde hair. They even slept in your bed, but it wasn’t the same.”

My eyes burned with unshed tears. My finger trembled on the
trigger. Almost.

A glint entered his eye. “Your friend’s little girl is cute.
Not to my usual tastes, but I can see the appeal. It was my money that paid for
her birth, wasn’t it?”

The report of the gun was loud in my ears, but it rang
instead with
she’s mine, she’s mine too
.
Had he really said that part, or had my mind filled in the blanks? He lay on
the ground, unseeing. He jerked. Was he dead?

I rifled through his pockets. His wallet fell open to a
school picture of me. I smiled brightly in the picture, my teeth a little too
large for my face. I found his cell phone and dialed 911. A gurgling sound came
from his throat. I had become what he wanted me to be—a murderer. I hadn’t
wanted to, but now…now I couldn’t find any regret. Couldn’t find any feeling at
all. Not even the chill of the wind could touch me. When the operator confirmed
that ambulances were on their way, I returned to the building.

Luke met me in the hallway, half dragging himself against
the wall. I ran to help him.

“You’re okay,” he slurred. He seemed delirious with the pain
and blood loss.

Gently, I laid him on the floor. “I’m okay. Rest now.”

His head was pillowed on my arm, tucked against my breast.
My cheek lay against the concrete as I took comfort from him. I needed it,
after the confrontation with my father, needed to know I was still alive, and
that Luke was too, but just this. Just holding him was enough.

* * * *

The paramedics split us up, bringing us to the hospital in
separate ambulances. I let them poke and prod at me. They were determined to do
a rape kit on me even though I told them it didn’t matter, it had never been
rape. But I could tell by the doctor’s expression that she didn’t believe me,
and so I spread my legs obediently and let her touch and didn’t make any jokes
about charging her by the swab.

The police questioned me, and I explained that the sex
between Luke and me was consensual, since they’d find it in the lab report
anyway. The two men exchanged a quick glance but kept their professional cool.
They told me he was recovering well—but I knew it couldn’t be too well if he
hadn’t come to see me yet.

The minute they were out the door, I wanted to leave in
search of him. But the nurse must have filled my IV with something that put me
to sleep. And they thought
I
didn’t
understand consent, I thought drowsily.

I drifted in and out of a dreamless sleep. When I woke up,
the room was still quiet, but I felt someone there. Allie. She was curled up on
the hospital bed at my side.

“Hey,” I said, though it came out more like a croak.

“Hey yourself.”

I read how bad I looked in her eyes. Sad. But not too sad,
which meant I’d be fine soon enough. Good, because I never could trust those
damn nurses.

“How are you feeling? Hurting? Thirsty?”

“A little of both, but wait, don’t go yet. I just want to
lie like this.”

She looked shocked. She knew I didn’t like touching. “Are
you sure?”

“I’m working on it.”

She grinned. “I’ll take it.”

Colin came in, holding Bailey in his arms. She squealed at
the sight of me, but he held her back.

“No,” I protested. “I want to hold her.”

He eyed the tubes coming off me with clear doubt.

“It’ll be fine,” I assured him.

Bailey nestled between us, showing her frustration at my
prolonged absence by smashing her face into mine until neither of us could
breathe. She grabbed fistfuls of my hair and made a nest for herself in the
crook of my arm. My lungs burned, my bruises ached, all of it too much and just
right. I looked over her auburn curls at Allie, who watched us, her eyes
bright. It was in her eyes, the soul-deep relief.

Over.

It was really over. There was no one to find me and force me
back into the life. No one to hang over me like a heavy cloud. Even if they put
me in jail for my part, I would have felt nothing but gratitude.

That wouldn’t happen, though. The cops and the doctors
veiled their pity behind professionalism, but the letter V might as well have
been stitched across my hospital gown.

Victim.

And well, maybe so. I needed to take responsibility for
every trick I had turned. It was the only way to stay sane. But as much as I
would have wished it, I couldn’t deny the truth of my father’s words. He had
trained me, and I had performed like an obedient bitch—so was it a hapless
struggle or a choice? The way of the world or a sin? I wasn’t sure it mattered
anymore. I would never again have that pause outside a hotel room door. I would
never again hear those unwelcome footsteps pause outside mine. Over.

Well, shit. “What the hell am I going to do now?”

Allie laughed, a little watery. “You’ll think of something,
and I’m sure it will make me want to pull my hair out, but it will be awesome.”

“So basically I’m three years old like Bailey.”

She nudged my foot through the sheet. “You are like my kid.
And other times you’re like my mom. That’s what best friends do.”

I lowered my lashes, and she gave me the moment I needed.
Looking away, I said, “Speaking of kids, how’s the girl? Did you visit the
kennel, take her out for a walk?”

I was referring to the email asking her to keep an eye on
Claire. I trusted Philip, but a little oversight never hurt anybody.

Her face screwed up. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly, you didn’t check on her?”

“We didn’t just take her for a walk. We took her home.” At
my alarmed look, she reassured me. “Nothing happened. They were driving each other
crazy, and Philip asked Colin to watch her. So she came back to our house. It
was completely safe. No one even knew she was there. You know Colin wouldn’t
have done it otherwise.”

“I’m surprised he wanted to help Philip. Or that you did.”

“Hmm.” She paused, thoughtful. “I would have said I was
doing it for her. But the truth is, I felt bad for him. I think he is really
desperate for someone to love him.”

I glanced at Colin, who stood just outside the room, visible
through the half-raised blinds. “Yeah, well, he can join the club.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Is that a confession I just heard?
Do not give me that professional-working-relationship crap. Something must have
happened between you and Luke.”

The corner of my lips tugged up.

“See? I knew it. Details. I need details. Let me just give
Bailey to Colin, and then–”

“Wait a minute. If you have Claire, then where is she?”

Allie rolled her eyes. “She won’t come in. I think she’s
scared, but of course she won’t tell me. Also, remind me to send Bailey to a
convent when she hits puberty. Teenagers are exhausting.”

“Send her in.”

“I’m telling you, she won’t come.”

“Tell her if she doesn’t get her butt in here, I’m going to
come out there myself. I have stitches and a hangnail here, so basically I
might die. Does she want that on her conscience?”

“Okay.” Allie dropped a kiss on my forehead and dragged a
disgruntled Bailey into her arms. “You know, I expected Colin to be annoyed,
having a teenaged girl around, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I think he even
leaves little stashes of cash for her to find. When she pitches a fit, he just
shrugs it off. And then I realized he does the same thing to me.”

I snorted. “Trust me, he does not see the two of you the
same way.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just saying, men will surprise you if you
give them the chance.”