He gets up from his chair and points to his fruit basket. "Put that in the kitchen, will you? I don't want it to go to waste while we're out of town."
"Sure," I say, relieved that he's dropping the whole Mardee thing. I pick up the basket and head out, trying to shake off the feeling of shame that Mardee's name brings out in me.
She was out of control but I wasn't in charge of her personal life. Hell, I was only nineteen myself back then. I had just started managing the girls. It was hardly my fault that Mardee fell in with the neighborhood scum.
Besides, I've made a lot of changes since then.
I will not have a repeat of Mardee.
The kitchen is clean and quiet now that Friday afternoon has passed into Friday evening. I stick the basket of fruit in the fridge with the others so it will keep over the weekend. Antoine is a fanatic about his fruit baskets. My gaze wanders to the large window over the sink and I spy Rook's garden apartment. She has the curtains open wide and she's standing in front of it, looking out on the cherry trees.
I have to agree with Antoine. This girl is a Mardee waiting to happen and I should really make myself available tonight so she doesn't wander off and get in trouble in the rowdy neighborhood.
But why? She has no building code, so she can't leave. I smile as the idea comes to me. I'll just conveniently forget to take her the code and then I can enjoy my Friday night without having to wonder if her skinny ass needs saving. Yes, this might be easier than I thought.
I leave the kitchen, take the stairs three at time, and walk the hallway down to my apartment.
Rook can't get into trouble if she never gets the chance.
Sounds like a perfect plan to me.
What could go wrong?
Chapter Eight - ROOK
Elise never appears with my building code and I'm starving. My stomach is churning with the emptiness, that's how hungry I am. The only thing I ate today was, well, a ten-dollar latte at Starbucks doesn't count as food, really. So I have not eaten anything today.
I peek out the window at the studio building. From the front room I can see the two-story windows on the fourth and fifth floors, and then on the sixth floor, there are smaller windows. There was a light on in one a few hours ago, but now everything is dark. I'm pretty sure there's a kitchen inside, but my code for the garden apartment won't open the doors that go into the studio.
So I'm like a prisoner out here in the secret garden.
I'm a secret prisoner.
It makes me uncomfortable. I mean, I really don't know these people at all. I met them today and the one I talked to has left for the weekend and the one who was supposed to take care of things is nowhere to be found. I wander the massive garden terrace. Pace, actually. I pace the terrace. And what's worse is that I can hear all sorts of people down below. This building is smack in the middle of a very active area of Denver filled with bars and all sorts of nightlife.
And I'm a secret prisoner in a secret garden.
I walk along the edge of the terrace and peer over to see what's happening down there. Lots of people. Lots of loud people which in my experience means lots of drunk people. Down the street is a huge neon sign that flashes an image of a Fifties waitress and the letters, Cookie's Diner! If I get down I can go to Cookie's and tell them I belong to Ronin and get free food.
Screw that, I have money. I don't need to belong to Ronin to feed myself.
I huff out some air and start to get annoyed. My stomach hurts, dammit! I look up at the window where the lights were one more time and spy a fire escape. Am I that desperate that I'm thinking about using the fire escape?
My feet are already across the terrace and I'm hopping over the short iron railing that allows access to the stairs. I've never been on a fire escape. I grew up in foster homes and maybe Chicago isn't the best place to be a foster kid, but they always placed me in actual houses, I'll give them that.
But I've seen them on TV. You just hop over, climb down, and then hang onto that ladder thing at the bottom where it delivers you safely to the ground. Easy. My feet bang down the metal stairs and when I get to the last level there's a lever that looks like it wants to be pulled. I release it and the ladder drops down to the ground.
I am minutes away from food!
But voices down the alley stop me. There's a group of guys just turning the corner. If I hustle I can get down on the ground and be back out on the busy street before they get close. I climb down and they start calling out to me.
Shit, Rook! This is not a good situation to be in. I drop to the ground and make my way out to the street. The people are still loud and there's even more of them than there were before, but at least I'm not alone in a dark alley.
Cookie's is on the other side of the street, but that's the busy side where all the bars are, so I keep to my side and walk down the block, shoving my hand in my pocket to grab my money.
Shit again! I look back up at the Chaput Building wistfully. My money is still upstairs. I am so stupid. I turn around to go back up the fire escape to get my money and see the rowdy guys from the alley turn the corner.
I spin around and make my way to Cookie's. I guess for tonight I'll belong to Ronin. I weave my way through the crowds, looking back nervously as the guys follow me, and then cross the street when I get to the corner.
A hand grabs me from behind and I jerk away and turn. "Get your hands off me!"
The guy is tall and has a surprised look on his face. "Sorry, geez. We just wanted to see if you're OK. You look pretty shook up."
"Sure," I say, relieved that he's dropping the whole Mardee thing. I pick up the basket and head out, trying to shake off the feeling of shame that Mardee's name brings out in me.
She was out of control but I wasn't in charge of her personal life. Hell, I was only nineteen myself back then. I had just started managing the girls. It was hardly my fault that Mardee fell in with the neighborhood scum.
Besides, I've made a lot of changes since then.
I will not have a repeat of Mardee.
The kitchen is clean and quiet now that Friday afternoon has passed into Friday evening. I stick the basket of fruit in the fridge with the others so it will keep over the weekend. Antoine is a fanatic about his fruit baskets. My gaze wanders to the large window over the sink and I spy Rook's garden apartment. She has the curtains open wide and she's standing in front of it, looking out on the cherry trees.
I have to agree with Antoine. This girl is a Mardee waiting to happen and I should really make myself available tonight so she doesn't wander off and get in trouble in the rowdy neighborhood.
But why? She has no building code, so she can't leave. I smile as the idea comes to me. I'll just conveniently forget to take her the code and then I can enjoy my Friday night without having to wonder if her skinny ass needs saving. Yes, this might be easier than I thought.
I leave the kitchen, take the stairs three at time, and walk the hallway down to my apartment.
Rook can't get into trouble if she never gets the chance.
Sounds like a perfect plan to me.
What could go wrong?
Chapter Eight - ROOK
Elise never appears with my building code and I'm starving. My stomach is churning with the emptiness, that's how hungry I am. The only thing I ate today was, well, a ten-dollar latte at Starbucks doesn't count as food, really. So I have not eaten anything today.
I peek out the window at the studio building. From the front room I can see the two-story windows on the fourth and fifth floors, and then on the sixth floor, there are smaller windows. There was a light on in one a few hours ago, but now everything is dark. I'm pretty sure there's a kitchen inside, but my code for the garden apartment won't open the doors that go into the studio.
So I'm like a prisoner out here in the secret garden.
I'm a secret prisoner.
It makes me uncomfortable. I mean, I really don't know these people at all. I met them today and the one I talked to has left for the weekend and the one who was supposed to take care of things is nowhere to be found. I wander the massive garden terrace. Pace, actually. I pace the terrace. And what's worse is that I can hear all sorts of people down below. This building is smack in the middle of a very active area of Denver filled with bars and all sorts of nightlife.
And I'm a secret prisoner in a secret garden.
I walk along the edge of the terrace and peer over to see what's happening down there. Lots of people. Lots of loud people which in my experience means lots of drunk people. Down the street is a huge neon sign that flashes an image of a Fifties waitress and the letters, Cookie's Diner! If I get down I can go to Cookie's and tell them I belong to Ronin and get free food.
Screw that, I have money. I don't need to belong to Ronin to feed myself.
I huff out some air and start to get annoyed. My stomach hurts, dammit! I look up at the window where the lights were one more time and spy a fire escape. Am I that desperate that I'm thinking about using the fire escape?
My feet are already across the terrace and I'm hopping over the short iron railing that allows access to the stairs. I've never been on a fire escape. I grew up in foster homes and maybe Chicago isn't the best place to be a foster kid, but they always placed me in actual houses, I'll give them that.
But I've seen them on TV. You just hop over, climb down, and then hang onto that ladder thing at the bottom where it delivers you safely to the ground. Easy. My feet bang down the metal stairs and when I get to the last level there's a lever that looks like it wants to be pulled. I release it and the ladder drops down to the ground.
I am minutes away from food!
But voices down the alley stop me. There's a group of guys just turning the corner. If I hustle I can get down on the ground and be back out on the busy street before they get close. I climb down and they start calling out to me.
Shit, Rook! This is not a good situation to be in. I drop to the ground and make my way out to the street. The people are still loud and there's even more of them than there were before, but at least I'm not alone in a dark alley.
Cookie's is on the other side of the street, but that's the busy side where all the bars are, so I keep to my side and walk down the block, shoving my hand in my pocket to grab my money.
Shit again! I look back up at the Chaput Building wistfully. My money is still upstairs. I am so stupid. I turn around to go back up the fire escape to get my money and see the rowdy guys from the alley turn the corner.
I spin around and make my way to Cookie's. I guess for tonight I'll belong to Ronin. I weave my way through the crowds, looking back nervously as the guys follow me, and then cross the street when I get to the corner.
A hand grabs me from behind and I jerk away and turn. "Get your hands off me!"
The guy is tall and has a surprised look on his face. "Sorry, geez. We just wanted to see if you're OK. You look pretty shook up."
