Sovereign Ground (Breaking Bonds) (6 page)

The puff of air against my cheek unnerves me.
“No.”

He looks at me with the same expression he had
when his eyes were laughing at the Sir Car Wash logo on my shirt. I cover the
embroidery with my hand even though he isn’t looking at it now. “I don’t need a
ride. I’ll be here at six.”

“Perfect.” The door swings wide to reveal the room
I saw on the monitor.

“Fab-u-lous!”

Several girls call back a hello or other generic
greetings. I’ve never seen so many beautiful women in one place, at one time.
What am I doing in this room?

“Everyone, I would like to introduce you to our
newest stage dancer.”

The room hushes dramatically. All eyes fix on me,
and I see different emotions in each pair: awe, disappointment, envy.

Brody takes a deep breath like a ringmaster. He
promised.

“Baby Bird.”

That was close.

Names are pitched in my direction. It will take me
time to remember them.

“Cori, here, our fire dancer…”

History, or something like it, wafts between Brody
and Cori.

“…is a licensed cosmetologist. She’s giving some
stage makeup tips.” Brody backs from the semi circle of girls, leaving me to
fend for myself. “Join in. Have fun. See you tomorrow.” He points a finger at
me and tries a wink, but his eye doesn’t close all the way.

Brita always winked.

“Fab-u…” The door latches before Brody finishes.

I look back at Cori. She would be the one to teach
makeup. She probably buys it in bulk. Her round Atlantic eyes are framed in
black. She has white-blonde, spiky hair cut short, but feminine. It juts in her
face like the petals of an exotic flower. Her long neck is a sentinel above her
carved collarbone, edged by tattooed talon on her right shoulder. She is thin,
but has the toned look of someone who achieved it through hard work.

“Baby Bird, huh?”

I can’t discern who spoke.

“I didn’t see you at the auditions.” There are
three girls sitting closer to each other. Two blondes with forced blank
expressions, and the most beautiful one has long brown hair. It’s smooth and
wavy like a conditioner commercial says hair should be.

“I already knew Brody.”

“She auditioned on silver sheets.” It’s from the
brunette. The pride of lionesses roars.

“I want to get out of here as much as you.” Cori
speaks to them all at once and then hands me a picture of an eye with numbered
steps. I take an offered cluster of pencils, tubes and brushes. In a moment, I
can’t contain how tall I feel. Cori’s smiling nod is my grade. Makeup is both a
new persona and a shield. When I turn to the group, most are already packing
away their makeup.

“Oh, wow, you look good.” An auburn-haired girl
with tiny hands tells me.

“Because she’s had practice…” the words are barely
there, “war paint.”

I know what I heard, but I raise my face to vacant
stares and sweet smiles.

The room empties in moments. There’s muffled
laughter after the door encloses Cori and me in the room. I look in the mirror.
I can see the whites of my eyes begin to shine. If I cry here—I swear, I’ll never
come back.

“You work at a car wash?”

I look down at my Sir Car Wash logo. “I did.”

“I did once, too.” Cori smiles a heavy smile.

I smudge away a little of the eyeliner as I dab at
the moisture, so I use another finger to smooth it out and lean a little closer
to the mirror. “I quit today.”

Cori cleans up the rest of her makeup. She doesn’t
respond, and I wish I hadn’t said anything. There is a sink and I cup my hands
to drink from it. It feels like that drink Brody gave me leeched every drop of
moisture from my mouth. I refill my hands until I’m quenched. When I stand,
there is water on my chin and I look around for a towel. Beside the sink, sits
a water bottle. I know it wasn’t there when I first walked over. Cori has one light
eyebrow raised higher than the other and she holds another water bottle in her
hand. She laughs.

I wipe my chin with the back of my hand. “No,
thanks.” I push the bottle farther away from me. “I don’t drink bottled water.”

“It just comes from the tap anyway.” Cori laughs
again and starts to toss the left behind makeup samples into the trash. “I
never even heard of bottled water until I came here.”

Who hasn’t heard of bottled water? I give a
generic smile and start for the door, but, I do feel better.

“Congratulations.”

“Huh?” I stop and look at Cori.

“Stage dancer.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“What’s your act?”

“Act?”

“Yeah, I use fire in my act. Talia, the girl who
was sitting here,” Cori points to where the girl with long brown hair sat in
the group of three. “She does this ribbon twirly thing. It’s cooler than it
sounds.”

“I just dance.”

“Oh?” She has all of the counters cleared of
makeup. “Well, we should do something about that.”

“Why?”

“You’re pretty new. Have you ever worked burlesque?”

“I just danced.” How many more times can I say
this?

“I get that…Baby Bird?”

“Just Baby.”

“I get that, Baby. It’s a little more competitive
here. Everyone wants the lead dancer role.”

“To be on stage?” It comes out more sarcastic than
I intended.

“Well, there’s quite a few perks. And some of
these girls are trying to get, um—” Cori clears her throat. “discovered.” She
laughs again. She laughs a lot. I like it.

“You like dancing?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah.” Cori smiles, and again the ocean swells
in her blue eyes. “I have power when I dance.”

I know what she means; I miss the power I felt at
the Wild Lily. Men looked at me because I let them, and my goals were possible
with the money. Cori grabs a purse from under the counter and a jacket from the
back of a chair. As she turns, I see that the claw tattoo on her shoulder is at
the end of a scaly arm disappearing down her back, into her shirt. “Can I drop
you somewhere?” She smiles like she knows I was staring at her tat.

“Is the sheriff’s station on your way?”

The dress is even prettier on me than it was on the
hanger. I guess that isn’t saying much, but I do like my curves. The midnight
satin drapes in folds of shine, like a robe of magic water, as though I’m
rising out of the sea with legs. I’ll be the Little Mermaid tonight.

No, I’m not waiting for a prince. I’m in control.

I turn to see just how far the back plunges and a
thigh-high slit peels open. It covers one shoulder like a toga. Should I wear
my hair up?

“You’re breathtaking.” Brody claps his hands
together; his eyes are large and deep green. I hold my arms out and give a
little spin. He steps closer and leans in to kiss my cheek. His pupils seem to
widen, or darken, after his hand touches my naked spine. His head drops and the
next kiss lands on my neck. “I’m lookin’ forward to spending the evening with
you.”

I realize I haven’t exhaled since his lips first brushed
my skin. I turn and let it out slowly so he doesn’t see how it affected me. Why
do I crave touch so much? He stands behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders.
There’s a full-length mirror to my left and he angles me to view it. We look
like a couple. Brody wears a tux, and he stands several inches taller than me.
His light brown hair is receding, but he wears it very short. He has the build
of an athlete, and his shoulders extend beyond mine on both sides.

“Sometimes I don’t think you realize how sensual
you are.”

Of all the descriptions to use. I gave myself away
once to someone who called me sensual. Steve Mackenzie: basketball star,
scholarship to some school in California, towered above me like a redwood. I
dressed up that night too. It just made it harder to find my way home after the
party. Not a glance or a word all week at school, then on the following Friday he
was a drunken sweet-talker on the phone, asking me to find my way over to his
house again. I hung up.

“Go get makeup on. We’ll leave soon.”

His smile is wide, and he looks right into my eyes
until I smile back and turn. The next three hours are a blur. Cori helps with
my makeup, just like a sister. Brody and I drive to the casino in his Porsche.
Valets. Attendants. Shaking hands with strangers. Pictures. Brody discovers I
like grape soda and pays a waitress to make sure I never have an empty glass. She
is pleased at whatever bill he hands her and the grape-flavored Italian soda
flows until I tell her not to bring anymore. And to think: I wanted to be a
cocktail waitress in a casino once.

Ha. That was yesterday.

“What’s so funny?” Brody holds his elbow out, and
I slide my arm into it. I shrug his question away.

 “I think we’ve put enough time in here. Do you
want to go out to eat or stay longer? There will be a band and a comedian, I
think.”

“I’m not sure.” I like being paraded around,
letting Brody see to my comfort.

“How have you been?” A little woman’s arms wrap in
an unbidden embrace. Leah. I look up and see Hayden, his scowl shows exactly
how he feels to see me.

“Remember me? It’s Leah.” She is exactly the kind
of girl Hayden would take to a benefit for kids. They look adorable. I’m sure
he must’ve pinned the corsage on her shoulder.

“Good evening,” Hayden says.

After Brody has introduced me a hundred times to
people in the room, I fail at my one opportunity to introduce him. He takes
charge and offers Hayden his hand.

“Hi. Brody Penn.” They shake a little too long.

“I know who you are,” Hayden replies.

Everybody already knows me, so I keep mum.
Hayden’s face is carved marble. He’s shaved his mustache, and I don’t think he
could be more handsome. It is a scar on his upper lip, just as I suspected. His
pinched mouth and cleft lip give him the look of someone unable to smile. It
makes me feel the way I did after visiting his church, when I ran down the
road.

“Sweetheart, you should sit. Would you like
something to drink?” I know “sweetheart” was more for Hayden’s benefit than mine
because Brody judges Hayden’s reaction when he says it, not me. “Where is that
waitress? Another soda for my Baby?”

“No, actually. I think the problem is too much
soda. I just need…” I scan the room. Bathroom or exit, either will work.

“Follow me.” Leah grabs my arm and tugs, giving me
no option but to follow. “We’ll be right back,” she says over her shoulder.

There are several couches in the first part of the
women’s restroom. Leah guides me to one. “Hayden and I were so glad to see
you.”

Hayden and I…

I lay my head back against the couch. Everything
in here is a gaudy hodgepodge of color and texture. Leah is like a daisy
standing in the middle of the Vatican. She waits with a glass of water. Where
could she have gotten it? She is perfect for Hayden.

“I’m fine now.” I do feel better after the water.
“Thank you, Leah.”

We return to the guys without conversation. Brody
has his arms crossed. He wears a callous smirk. Hayden’s face, well, he’s just
Hayden—all emotions are controlled.

“All-righty, Hayden. Leah, it was nice to meet
you. Have a pleasant evening. Sparrow? Ready?”

Oh, Brody. My name. It wasn’t yours to share.

Leah’s mouth is a perfect dainty “O.” I wonder
what Hayden thinks of the name my parents gave me and that I’m not just ‘Baby’
to Brody. I have no time to find out. Brody has his hand on the lower curve of
my spine, it slips a little lower and then reaches and pulls my hip to his. I
don’t look over my shoulder.

I couldn’t speak to Hayden, my time ran out. Brody
will take me back under the sea now. I’m the mermaid after all.

“Can you believe that retard invited me to his
church?” Brody answers himself with a chuckle.

I have no response for him but that’s okay because
he talks incessantly during the drive back.

The inside of the TorchLight is finished and looks
like an oasis. Who am I fooling?

It’s a mirage.  

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Brody squeezes my
hand. So he did notice that I hadn’t said a word in twenty minutes.

“Yes, fine.” I try to recapture some of the
elation I’d felt before we ran into Hayden. I can’t.

Brody takes me upstairs and I wait while he opens
the door to his office. He puts something in his desk and leads me right back
out. We enter another room. It looks like the bedroom of a model home, only a
little shinier, sleazier. I stop and cross my arms, about to laugh that he
brought me in here with so little pomp and circumstance.

“Sometimes I stay all night. I decided I shouldn’t
have to sleep on my office couch since the remodel.” He pulls me by the hand
and walks backward to sit down on the side of the bed, next to the pillows. I stand
in front of him, my hand still held between his fingers.

Since the remodel. I sigh.

“So you want a drink?”

The decision. I know a drink means the date is not
over. I know he wants the date to continue with me crawling into that bed with
him. Why shouldn’t I? If stage dancing is as competitive as Cori indicated, it
can’t hurt me to be dating the owner. Unless he is another Steve Mackenzie and
nothing is mentioned until the next time he wants a tussle.

Hayden said this kind of thing should be between two
people, only. Special. He probably won’t be entwined with Leah later tonight. The
thought comforts me; also, it somehow amplifies the fact that I have no
interest in touching Brody.

“She auditioned on silver sheets.” I remember the
girls’ remarks. Maybe they think I slept with Brody to get this job. My heart
starts to pick up a pace. With the hand that Brody doesn’t hold, I reach up and
pull down the comforter. I have to know the color of his sheets. Brody takes my
action as invitation and springs forward like a leach from some alien movie.
His face burrows my breasts and both arms wind around my waist, exploring. It
takes two hands and double effort to peel him off. He sits back, loving the
game, with big pleading eyes.

“What do you think…?” Something inside me says
run. This won’t be a game to him. I know it like I can hear his thoughts.

He grabs me and spins me around before I can
finish speaking. He irons me to the bed. It’s funny I always think he has pleading,
puppy-dog eyes, because now he’s not gentle—and he’s not asking. I finally have
to pull his hair back to get him off me, and it’s so short I can barely pinch
it. He starts to lurch forward again, and I slap him. He doesn’t even touch his
face, though my hand stings like crazy. He just smiles.

“You’re a dog.” I hate myself that I can’t come up
with something better to say. He begins laughing and I know I better leave, or
he’ll think I’m willing to play. I reach the door in only a few steps.

“See you Monday.” He calls, still chuckling.

I take a quick glance back. In our mêlée, we
skewed the blankets. His satin sheets are indeed silver. Dog. A weekend fling
would have been forgotten on Monday.

It should mean more.

I cross the hall and enter the costume jungle. I
had placed my clothes and shoes in a corner and now I grab them to change. As I
slide out of my ridiculously high heels, I hear movement out in the hall. My
chest constricts. Brody will follow me.

This is when it changes, now it won’t be a game.

I hug my jeans and duck behind a rack of color. My
heart announces where I’m hiding, even if only to me. I try to slow it as the
door opens. Footsteps. Scrape of metal. A warm drop slides down the curve of my
spine. This horrible satin dress is the last thing I want to be wearing at this
moment.

Who is in here? Finally, I peak around the rack,
still hidden, but expecting to see Brody. No one. Two large Peacock-feather wings
swing from a hook on the wall. They have eyes with blue irises, surrounded by
brown and green covering the length of them. They hang like a carcass, waving
in the wind. But it isn’t wind which blows through this room, it’s another
presence.

I am hunted. I am haunted. Sometimes I just know
the curse is near, I feel the spirit.

I pump my arms and feel the sensation of bare feet
meeting the floor. Fortunately, the slit in my dress allows my legs freedom. I
stumble at the stairs, afraid to take them at the pace I left the costume jungle.
I try skipping steps. At the bottom, I grasp the handle only to realize it
locks from both inside and out.

I hear a small laugh from the top of the stairs.

“Where will you fly Baby Bird?” Brody’s voice
matches his placid face, and he holds a key chain from an extended arm. “Do you
want me to call you a cab?” His tone is a little deeper than normal, like he
just woke.

Embarrassment drips like a bucket of hot sand
poured over me.

“No, I’ll …”

The handle jiggles from the other side of the door
and I turn, reluctant to have my back at Brody—even with the flight of stairs
between us. Even though he offered to call me a cab.

“Well, hullo.” A bald man gates the threshold with
one hand on the side and one on the door. He is at least as tall as Brody, but
not as broad. He is leaner and harder, though, and his eyebrows are a dark
contrast to his pale skin. I look down quickly. He smells like the Wild Lily: a
mixture of sweat, stale smoke and spirits.

I can’t bear to study his face, but my eyes defy
me and start to lift. His thin mouth smiles on only one side. His nose is large
and crooked, like it was broken one too many times. I have to know…his eyes are
hazel. Hard and cold, but he is not the killer.

I duck under his arm and sprint.

“Oh, excuse me.”

I hear him speak but I don’t take time to analyze
my rationale. Hot fingers of the presence in the costume jungle seize my
stomach. I run as though I’m pursued. Always pursued, always hunted.

I squat in the bushes outside the TorchLight until
both my legs are numb. First Brody, and then the bald guy leave, but I don’t
move. The perspiration on me chills, but the hedge insulates me from any
breeze. There is that McDonald’s down the street—again, a cab my only option.
If I had slept with Brody would I still be finding my own ride home?

At the reservation I use the last of my car wash
money to pay the cab driver. Vietnam rock muffles the car door closing. It
comes from the house with torn toys all over the yard. Faint smells of charcoal
and spicy meat from a barbecue arouse hunger to yawn and stretch in my stomach.
All I’ve had tonight is soda. Lights illuminate Thom and Lorna’s trailer. Unfortunately,
it looks like they are still up. If only I owned a watch.

The cab drives away, and the neighbor’s music lulls
between songs. I listen to the fading sound of rubber against asphalt. The
seventies music returns, a song I’ve heard before, but don’t like. It makes me
feel little.

 It’s mild for early spring. After the clamor from
the benefit, the image of Hayden and Leah together, and the touches from Brody—I’m
glad to be alone in the night. I don’t mind being outside in only an evening
gown, an evening gown I don’t even own.

The stars watch me. They show as little emotion as
Hayden: untouched by my struggle, unfazed by my dilemma. It’s too much to go
back and work for Brody. I haven’t thought of the man with empty eyes since
right after…it happened. And tonight, I expected those eyes. I assumed I would
see them. What does it mean about a person’s mind, a person’s soul—when you can
look inside and see nothing?

I need my flute, to hear the song my father taught
me, to feel the music flow out of me again. I can’t be empty like this.

I sneak to the side of our trailer. The dress
slips easily over my head, and I stand in my lingerie, topless. The air is
colder now, maybe because my adrenaline ceased. I lift the lid on the plastic
box that holds the garden hose and delicately place the folded satin inside. No
one will look for this hose for months and everything inside seems dry. I turn
away from the trailer and look back at the stars. Feather light touches of
goose pimples tiptoe across my naked skin.