“And homework that needs to be done,” Juliette finished for her. “I have to go to work so you are going to listen to Mrs. Tompkins, eat your supper, do your homework and watch TV, or something. I don’t care. But you’re not leaving this house.”
“You are not my mother!” Vi roared, flags of crimson flooding her cheeks. “You can’t tell me what to do!”
“I can,” Juliette said with a note of sadness she couldn’t suppress. “I am your legal guardian and that means I’m responsible for you and your wellbeing until you’re eighteen. Until then, you listen to what I tell you or—”
“Or what?” Her hiss was mocking and cruel.
Juliette never flinched. “Or I send you to Uncle Jim’s farm and let him ruin your life for the next two years.”
All color drained from the other girl’s face in a single sweep of horror.
“You are such a bitch!”
Eyes glittering, Vi stormed from the kitchen. Juliette listened as the crack of her pink pumps resonated off the hardwood all the way down the hall. Then all the way up the stairs. It ended with the booming bang of the upstairs bedroom.
She sighed heavily into the silence her sister’s tantrum had left behind. Mrs. Tompkins studied her with sad, shrewd eyes, but thankfully didn’t comment; they had gone through this song and dance before with Vi. Juliette had apologized profusely over and over again for the girl’s behavior. There was nothing left to do.
“I’m going to work,” she mumbled at last. “You might not be able to reach me, but I’ll try to be back some time tomorrow morning.”
Mrs. Tompkins nodded. “All right, dear.”
Taking her weary frame, Juliette ambled her way upstairs. In Vi’s room, the stereo blared something angry and loud that rattled the door. Juliette let it be. She had learned long ago not to fight every battle if she wanted to win the war, and Vi was one giant war.
In her room, she stripped quickly and showered. Then she dressed carefully in a short, black skirt and a white blouse over a white camisole. She combed out her hair and left it in a rippling wave down her back while she applied a fine stroke of makeup, all the while, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror.
There was no longer room to ignore the inevitable. She had done her best, but in the end, there was only one final option. One last thing she could give Arlo to protect Vi. While she lacked the courage to put a name to the unthinkable, she knew what needed to be done.
It had never dawned on her just how much she weighed until her entire weight was being supported by the grace of her unsteady legs. The three inch pumps she’d forced her feet into wrenched and wobbled across gravel as she hobbled her way to the warehouse doors. Lights spilled through the cracked windows on either side of the sheet of metal, a sure sign that someone was home. A burly man stood in front, sucking lightly on a cigarette. Juliette could just make out the crimson little rosebud flare up with every inhale. His dark attire enfolded him in the setting dusk. But the light from inside the factory glinted off the smooth globe of his shaved head and the thick silver hoop stretching his earlobe. Eyes squinting, he watched her approach through the plume of gray smoke he expelled between them.
“I’m here to see Arlo,” Juliette said with all the gumption she could muster. “He’s expecting me.”
He brought the tabacco stick to his mouth again and she caught the sharp glint of a bar piercing through his bottom lip. His free hand slipped behind his back and he withdrew a walkie-talkie.
“Boss? There’s a girl here to see you.”
There was a long pause of silence where Juliette was forced to see who would blink first. He did when static erupted from the device in his hand.
“What she look like?”
The guard looked Juliette over, assessing her quickly. “Blonde. Kind of hot.”
Any other time, any other person, the compliment would have been flattering. But knowing the reason she was there, Juliette wanted to be sick.
“Send her in.”
Clipping the walkie-talkie back on his belt, the guard took hold of the iron handle and yanked the heavy doors apart, revealing a patch of dim yellow light against the night.
Juliette stepped carefully over the threshold and onto smooth concrete.
The entrance opened into a wide foyer caged in by slabs of metal. An opening had been cut into one side that led into an eerie darkness.
Her insides quivered with apprehension. Her hands shook as she smoothed them down her skirt. She looked back to see if the guard would at least show her the way, but he gave her one last, almost pitying glance and let the door slam shut between them.
Alone, she started forward through the dingy hue of a single dangling lamp swaying miserably overhead. The opening bent into a narrow corridor that stopped abruptly at several sharp turns. It reminded her of a maze and she was the mouse that had to find the cheese. The click of her heels seemed to echo through the place in a hollow pulse, resounding off the metal and bouncing along each thick beam overhead.
It hadn’t been very hard to find where Arlo would be that night. It was a Friday and that meant collection day. Anyone who owed the Dragons made sure that they had their money in before the end of that day. Juliette had been there every last Friday of the month for seven years, but she’d never gone inside. Usually, she gave her money to the guy outside and left. She knew it was safe because no one was stupid enough to double cross Arlo.
The clan had been in the family for generations, getting passed down from father to son. Juan Cruz was still the kingpin of the eastside, but Arlo ran the streets. He was the one who got his hands dirty and had built himself a name that most wouldn’t even dare whisper. They were mostly runners, smuggling everything from drugs, to guns, to children and women. Juliette hadn’t known that world existed outside of cop shows until the day Arlo had shown up on her doorstep. Now she was in so deep she didn’t think she’d ever be able to get out.
The end of the corridor opened to every frat boy’s dream playhouse. It was built with the sole purpose of entertainment and comfort. The area was large, large enough to hold two pool tables, a full arcade tucked into one corner, and a lounge in the other. There was also a built in bar with an enormous oak counter that gleamed under the dull fingers of light spilling down from the dangling lamps overhead. A long, wooden table took over the center of the room like an ugly gash. The thing was painted a faded gray and there were no chairs around it. Only men.
There were four standing at the table with Arlo. Six more sat around the lounge area watching some basketball game on the plasma TV mounted into the wall. They all looked up when Juliette stepped into their domain. The TV was muted.
“Juliette.” Arlo stepped away from the papers he and the four men had been poring over. “I see your sister isn’t with you so I’m assuming you have my money.”
Willing her nerves to hold steady, Juliette closed the wide distance between her and the monster watching her. She stopped when there were three steps between them.
“I don’t have all of it, but I brought whatever I could raise.”
She pulled out the envelope from her purse and held it out. Arlo smoothed a hand over his grinning mouth. He chuckled.
“That wasn’t our deal, Juliette.”
She nodded, wishing he would take the money because her hand was beginning to tremble.
“I know, but I … I’m willing to work off an extension.”
There was no mistaking how scared she was. Everything right down to the tips of her hair shivered with barely suppressed terror.
Arlo arched an eyebrow. He shoved away from the table and started towards her in a slow, almost taunting strides.
“And how do you propose to do that?”
Her arm dropped to her side. A hot wave of mortification rushed up her throat to fill her cheeks. She could feel the eyes burning into her, the ears all listening, waiting for her response.