The Blade Itself (12 page)

She straightened, let her head fall back, rolling it from side to side to ease the muscles. The smoke had given her a headache, and she wanted to be rid of it before she went home. Danny had been withdrawn lately, private. Something was obviously bothering him, but he kept it to himself. Maybe if she slipped out early, showed up with a bottle of wine and a naughty expression, she could loosen him up.

She smiled at the thought, stepped away from the railing to weave through the upstairs. When she’d taken over managing the place, the first thing she’d done was convert the balcony to a VIP room. A certain breed of guy would eagerly drop three hundred bucks on a twenty-dollar bottle of Stoli to impress a date in a low-cut dress, and in one stroke she’d upped the bar’s take 40 percent. Which made it her job to ensure that everyone upstairs felt like Very Important People. She moved through the crowd, chatting with regulars, touching men’s biceps and complimenting women on their shoes. It was her routine, but something
felt off tonight. She had a weird tingle in her neck. Some animal instinct, like she was being watched. Not gawked at – she was used to that. This was different. It felt like she was being studied.

Hunted.

The word popped into her mind of its own accord, and her skin went cold. She stopped and glanced around, eyes darting over men in Armani, women sipping Cosmos, an anorexic blonde checking her makeup in a compact. Nothing to raise alarms. She moved to the railing, looked down at the main floor, scanning the sweating mass below. A long-legged girl spun and swirled her skirt amid a triangle of men wearing expressions of pained lust. A couple leaned against the column by the bathroom, locked in a late-night kiss, his thigh riding between her knees. For an instant, a lighter flared, near the back wall. The glow revealed a hard face framed by brown curls. He stared directly at her. Not at the VIP area. At her.

Then he snapped the lighter shut and disappeared.

She squinted, trying to pick him out again. The light bouncing off the dance floor left her night blind, the rear wall a blur of inseparable shapes with way too many cigarettes to make his stand out. But someone had been there. She was sure of it.

Who was he? He had seemed, in that split second, strangely familiar. An old acquaintance? Her nervousness suggested not. Whoever he was, she felt sure they weren’t friends.

‘Karen!’

She jumped, spun around fast, heart pounding. Two of her regulars smiled down at her; Louis, a tall, elegant black man with his arm threaded around his partner Charles’s waist. ‘Join us for a drink?’

Adopting her best hostess smile, Karen turned from the
dance floor. If she wanted to get out early, she didn’t have time to jump at shadows.

This was what job security looked like in the bar biz: ten past twelve on a weeknight, and still a line outside the door. The crowd was rowdy, already amped up on drink and eager to get in from the cold. She pushed through them, looking for Hector. Normally she walked to her car alone, but the stranger inside had made her nervous.

She found the bouncer at the head of the line, glowering down on a scrawny guy with a goatee, giving him the full impact of 250 pounds of tattooed muscle. ‘You gonna wanna think about that again, hoss.’

‘Hey, screw you, Cheech.’ The man’s face was red, though with booze or anger Karen couldn’t tell. ‘I told you, I just stepped out to make a call.’

‘What’s going on?’ Karen asked, using her manager voice.

‘This gentleman don’t want to wait in line,’ Hector said.

Up close now, Karen could see that Goatee’s eyes were all pupil. Ecstasy, probably, maybe with a little meth to give it an edge. Normally she wouldn’t care; half the crowd was hopped on something. But nobody messed with her staff. She shook her head. ‘Get him out of here.’

The bouncer grinned. He clamped meaty hands on the man’s shoulders, spun him around, and walked him protesting past the line. As he did, the crowd surged forward, a couple of similarly dressed guys, his friends maybe, pushing for the now unmanned door.

‘Shit. Hector!’

The bouncer turned in time to see the men dash inside amid the thronging crowd. He growled and bounded back to the head of the line.

‘Where’s Rodney?’ Karen asked.

‘He wasn’t feeling good, so I said I’d cover for him.’
Hector looked at her sheepishly. ‘It was only for a couple hours, didn’t think you’d mind.’

She grimaced. ‘It’s just I was going to ask you to walk me to my car.’

Hector pulled out his radio. ‘Lemme get Kevin or Joe.’

They were both bartenders. The club was packed, everybody vying to get their last couple of rounds in. Pulling a bartender would slow things down, make everybody’s life harder, and cut the take. All for a weird feeling. She felt silly all of a sudden.

‘Forget it,’ she said. ‘I’ll be okay.’

‘You sure?’

She nodded, pulled out the pepper spray key ring Danny insisted she carry. ‘Sure thing.’

He winked at her, turned back to the line of patrons.

Karen stepped out from behind the velvet rope and started down Ontario. Goose bumps massed on her exposed shoulders. Soon it would be time for jackets, gloves, layers. The unpleasant accoutrements of a Chicago winter.

The man from the bar haunted her. Who was he? Years of dealing with drunks had honed her instincts, and something about that guy had given her a bad feeling.

As if on cue, she heard footsteps behind her. A careful walk. The steps heavy and muffled. A man’s stride. Had she been foolish not to pull one of the bartenders? She quickened her step and gripped the pepper spray more tightly. Part of her wanted to whirl around, but she was afraid of what she’d see. She could feel her heart, the thumping swift against her ribs. Should she run? The heels would slow her down; if someone was following her, the man from the bar, he’d catch her easily.

She turned onto Franklin. The Explorer was in an alley a block down. If she could get to it, she’d be safe.

The footsteps followed, closer than ever. She didn’t think
she’d make it, not at this rate. Mouth dry, she spun, raising the pepper spray in her right hand, her left bracing against the building. A tall man walked toward her, face cloaked in shadow. Her hand shook. She opened her mouth to yell – this was a public street, there were people just down the block, surely someone would help her. The man took another step. Just as she was about to shout, the headlights from a passing car fell across him.

Deep wrinkles cut his forehead, and his eyes were sunken. His walk was careful, all right – geriatrically so. The gentleman had to be in his seventies. He stared far away, pulling a tan raincoat tighter as he passed.

She snorted, almost laughed, the tension draining away. Why had she gotten so jumpy because someone on the floor looked up at the VIP lounge? That was what made it a VIP lounge – it was where everyone wanted to be.

She shook her head and continued. The alley wasn’t technically parking, but cops turned a blind eye for industry staff as long as no one complained. She could see a gleam off the truck’s windshield, right where she’d left it. She started toward it, thinking of how to tell Danny the story, to convey her goofy fear. She decided that it would be in the details – the old guy, his wrinkles, that perv raincoat.

A shadow detached itself from the wall and reached for her.

She had time to gasp, to jerk the pepper spray up, knowing this time it was real. He was almost on her before her thumb found the button. She jammed it down to spit a stream of blinding poison.

Nothing happened.

He grabbed her arm, twisted it backward. Her shoulder and elbow blazed as she spun. A gloved hand stifled her scream with the taste of sour leather and cigarettes. She felt the keys yanked from numbing fingers.

‘First,’ his breath hot against her ear, ‘you have to take the safety off.’

She could have cried at the thought of it, the way the button had to slide sideways before it could be pushed. It’d all just happened so fast. Horrible images flashed through her mind, thoughts of ending up a cautionary tale, used and abandoned in an alley, panties twisted around her ankles. She struggled against him, trying to tear free, but he was like machinery, his muscles pneumatic in their power.

‘Relax, kitten.’ He sounded amused. ‘I’m not going to hurt you tonight. But you should be more careful. Chicago can be a dangerous place for a woman.’

Before she could process his words he pushed her, still holding one arm, as if they were dancing. When she reached the end of her steps he let go, and the momentum sent her sprawling to the ground. Gravel dug cruelly into her legs, and she yelped, not a proper scream, just surprise and pain. She was free. She raised her arms to ward off her attacker and drew in a breath to shriek.

And realized she was alone.

The guy, whoever he was, had walked away. At the mouth of the alley he stopped, his back to her. He had shoulders like a football player. He pulled something apart between his hands, and she heard the clatter of keys on the pavement.

Then he stepped out onto Franklin and was gone.

Karen wanted to cry, to sit in the dirt of the alley and bawl, to let out the scream that had been building in her. But she thought of the movies, how she hated it when the bimbo just lay there. Life had been safe and soft the last couple of years, but she’d grown up with two older brothers, neither unfamiliar with the wrong side of the law, and they’d taught her to take her licks.

Besides, she hadn’t been hurt. Hadn’t been raped. Hadn’t
even been robbed. She didn’t understand. But understanding, like crying, could wait.

One hand on the dirty metal of the Dumpster, she pulled herself up. Pain raked down the back of her thigh, but her legs held. There would be some bruises – what her brothers had delighted in calling raspberries – but nothing broken.

Correct that. One heel had snapped when she fell.

Somehow that made her laugh, actually laugh out loud, standing in the middle of the alley. The laughter was hard and high, and it didn’t feel right; she could taste the curdle of panic in it.

Get it together, Karen. Don’t go hysterical in the middle of the alley. Pick up your keys, run to the car, lock the doors, start the engine
.

Then get hysterical
.

She hobbled to the sidewalk and retrieved the keys. Down the street, she could see a group of a dozen partiers, the girls’ thighs flashing, the men’s laughter loud. They were less than a block down. They seemed half a world away.

The headlights on Lakeshore Drive blurring like those long-exposure photographs you saw on brochures.

The Explorer surging when she mashed the accelerator, substituting speed for control.

The soft green glow of the dashboard lights.

The snap of the radio dial as she turned it off.

An airbrushed sign for a nail salon on Belmont.

Trees flanking the sidewalks, the rustle of shadows cast by streetlights.

Then suddenly she was home, looking over her shoulder to park the truck, her blinker on as though everything were normal. She felt snapped back into her body. Like she’d been trailing behind it on a kite string. Their apartment was twenty yards away. She could see through the bay window to the living room, where a light burned, and it made her
feel naked. Could anyone look in so easily? Did they walk around unaware of the eyes watching them? Had the man been watching her?

Was he still?

The thought tore through her like ten thousand volts of adrenaline. She whipped her head around, sure he stood beside the car.

There was nothing there.

Stupid, stupid girl
.

She yanked the keys out of the ignition and threw the door open. Stepped out, forgot the broken heel, lost her balance, one knee slamming into the door frame, white-hot pain jamming up her leg. She kicked off the heels and stepped to the grass, limping as fast as she could. Front door. Light blue key. In, slam, lock. Stairwell door. Dark blue key. Up the stairs.

She made it halfway before the tears caught her. Fear and relief mingled and twisted into an emotion too raw to have a name of its own. Sobbing, she pulled herself the rest of the way up using the bannister, heard the door to their apartment swinging open, saw Danny framed against the darkness, a running silhouette. When he reached her, she threw her arms around him, the tears coming freely now, her fingers catching handfuls of his shirt, not so much hugging him as holding on.

They sat in the kitchen with all the lights on. The track lights, the one over the stove. The pantry door open and that light burning as well. She could feel the warmth of the tea through the cup, the warmth of the whiskey in her gut. Danny had his hands over hers, and it helped.

She’d told him about it, the words spilling all over the hallway, and he had guided her inside and listened as she told it again, not saying anything except that it was over
now, it was okay, they were going to be okay. She’d let the tears come, and his T-shirt had a dark spot on one shoulder. She felt better for the crying. And for being home, with all three locks thrown.

‘God, I just feel so…’ She paused, looking for the right word, choosing the simplest. ‘Stupid.’

‘It wasn’t your fault.’

‘Parking in the alley, not having anyone walk me to the car.. .’

‘Shhh…’ He stroked her hands. ‘You’re sure you’re okay? You don’t want to go to the hospital?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m fine. Just shaken up.’ She tried a smile, knowing it looked thin. ‘Really, I’m fine. Just ruined a skirt and a pair of heels when I fell. He didn’t even take my purse.’

‘What scared him off?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think anything. He just let me go.’

‘Huh?’ He looked up at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I tried to use the pepper spray you got me, but I forgot to take the safety off, and then he twisted my arm and took it away. So many thoughts were going through my head, you know, bad things, was he only after my purse, or was he going to rape me, was he some sort of psycho. But then he just kind of shoved me, and I slipped, and when I looked up, he was walking away.’