The Dollhouse (11 page)

I cut myself off, realizing what I’d been about to reveal.

“Never mind, let’s just finish dinner.”

“I’m sorry, Dalea.” Momma grabbed my hand and squeezed it weakly. “I know how strong you’ve had to be, between working at the diner and taking care of your brother and sister. Things will be better now, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Has anything else been going on, you seem so tense?”

“No. Nothing.”

My eyes moved automatically to the roses standing in a vase in the center of our kitchen table. I had removed the card and hidden it in my room. There was no way to adequately explain the cryptic message inside and I didn’t want to be forced to try.

Julian was clearly not going to just go away without a fight. It was going to take all of the willpower I had to resist him, and even that might not be enough.

“I can’t believe that someone would leave such gorgeous flowers at the diner,” Momma said, easily identifying where my gaze had moved.

“People leave all kinds of things,” I said casually, already committed to the lie. “Miranda found a tennis bracelet in a glass of water once, but I think the girl came back for it.”

“You know, your father used to send me roses like this when we were dating.”

Momma never talked about my dad, not in the three years since he died. It had always been easier to just pretend that he never existed. She got sick so recently afterward that the two events had always been linked in my mind.

I swallowed hard against the lump forming in my throat.

Momma stood up slowly and went to the table. Her fingers trembled slightly but she reached out to trace the gentle curve of one rose. “They used to look just like this too.”

“Dad was a romantic, huh?”

“Most men are in the beginning.” Momma let out a hoarse laugh. “But your dad really liked to pull out all the stops.”

I smiled, trying to imagine my dad as the romantic hero. “That sounds nice.”

“Every rose color has a meaning, not everyone knows that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Most people know that red is for love and passion, but it’s really rather run of the mill, I think.” She adjusted one of the stems so it fell more evenly with the rest. “Yellow roses are joyful, but usually platonic. A man who sends you yellow roses is letting you down easy. He wants to be your friend.”

“What about these?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me. “What does it mean when the roses are both yellow and red?”

“Roses like this, with yellow at the center and red on the tips, are very special.” The smile on Momma’s face was wistful. “You send roses like this to your true love.”

Her words rocked me. I busied myself at the stove to hide my face because I didn’t want her to see what I was obviously thinking. “How nice.”

“Except these roses are interesting.”

Schooling my features into a more neutral expression, I turned back to face her. “Oh, why?”

“These have thorns. Nobody sends roses with thorns anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bouquets never have thorns. The florist always trims them off.” Momma shrugged and sat back in her chair. “Unless they’re asked to leave them, I suppose.”

My belly clenched tight and I had to breathe through the aching sensation. “Why do you think they left the thorns?”

“I don’t know.” Momma said, her mind clearly moving on to other concerns.

I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice. “Just tell me what you think.”

“Whoever sent those roses clearly associates love with pain.”

* * *

I
left
for my bedroom immediately after dinner, desperate to escape. Momma’s words to me kept echoing in my head and they were impossible to ignore.

True love.

Whoever sent those roses clearly equates love with pain.

Maybe Julian didn’t know the meaning of the rose colors. Maybe he had just picked something that looked pretty and the message behind the choice was totally meaningless to him.

Or maybe not.

The question weighed on me, haunting my thoughts. I knew that he wanted me, or to possess me at least, like a figurine displayed in a glass cabinet that had no will or desires of its own.

But love was something else entirely.

The worst part was that there was no one that I could talk to about any of this. No one in my life would understand what I had done.

Or why I wanted to do it again.

I was completely alone.

I used to have girlfriends. The kind that would pick up the phone whenever you called, who you could spill all of your secrets to and know that they would understand. But it’s amazing how quickly friendships fade when you work seventy hours a week.

When I closed my eyes, Julian’s face swam in my vision like a waking dream. Imperious eyes and a face that was so cold it could have been carved in marble. I didn’t want to
want
him, but I couldn’t help myself.

It wasn’t until I laid back in the bed and felt hard pricks on my scalp that I realized something was there. My hands slipped underneath the cotton pillowcase and touched something hard and metal.

I pulled my hand out and a necklace was twined in my fingers. White gold and diamonds shimmered in the light of a streetlamp through my window.

Julian had been here — in my home and in my bed — or he had sent someone to do his bidding. I looked through the open window to the fire escape that stopped only a few feet from the ground three stories below. Had he come up that way, creeping into my room when no one was home

The thought should have terrified or sickened me, and it did, but tendrils of painful pleasure still curled in my belly.

L
uis was dressed
in an ill-fitting suit that used to be our father’s. The shoulders were too wide and the sleeves hung low enough that they nearly covered his hands.

“Maybe the judge will take pity on how stupid I look and let me go,” he said as we stared at his reflection in the glass-walled entryway of the juvenile courthouse.

“I don’t think it works like that,” I said with a half-hearted smile. “But it can’t hurt.”

Momma had felt too weak to come with us for the hearing so she’d stayed home with Lucy. Luis and I had come to the courthouse alone.

A line formed behind a set of metal detectors manned by two men in black uniforms with guns and handcuffs hanging from each side of their hips.

“Please tell me that this is the last time we’ll have to do this,” I murmured to my brother as I placed my cellphone and keys into a little plastic tub.

“No shit, they don’t mess around down here.”

“Language,” I snapped.

We passed through the metal detectors without incident and I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that I thought we had anything to hide, but the guns at the security officer’s hips had me unnerved.

“Because next time they’ll try you as an adult and I will not be showing up with you for that.”

“Jeez, Dalea, I got it.” His tone was exasperated but I heard the note of genuine fear in his voice.

“What’s the name on the docket?” asked an unconcerned clerk when we approached the desk of the lobby.

“Luis Moreno.”

“Courtroom Two.” The clerk pointed down a hallway filled with identical wooden doors, where dozens of people milled. Luis had been in trouble for minor things before, like truancy and vandalism, so I knew from experience that they would try several cases at one time.

“Where is the lawyer supposed to meet you?” I asked Luis, surveying the long hallway.

“He didn’t say.”

I rolled my eyes at that. My brother was probably one of the thousand cases that the public defender he’d been appointed had to handle. I just prayed the lawyer wasn’t fresh out of college and/or completely unprepared.

Luis pressed close to me as we walked down the crowded hallway. I could feel the slight tremble that he was trying to hide. I was suddenly reminded of how very young my brother was. Underneath all of the youthful bravado lay a scared little boy.

He let me take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. He gripped me hard when I moved to pull away.

“Everything is going to be fine,” I said with a confidence that I didn’t actually feel. “We just need to stay positive.”

“Says the person who’s not about to be sent to juvie,” Luis said, his voice huffy.

“Maybe you’ll remember this the next time you’re out with Marco and about to do something stupid.”

“Don’t be mad at Marco, he didn’t do nothing.”

“That’s my point. How quickly did he start running when the police showed up?’ I asked, rolling my eyes. “We’re the ones at the courthouse right now, not him.”

“Don’t be like that. Marco is my boy.”

“Exactly, a boy.” I skirted around a man and a woman who were crying together outside of one of the courtrooms. “That’s what you call someone who helps you get into trouble, but runs instead of helping you get out of it.”

“You really want to talk about this right now?” Luis hissed through his teeth. “Our last conversation before I get put away is you dogging my friend?”

“Fine,” I conceded. “Let’s just find the courtroom.”

The courtrooms were arranged in descending order. We had passed almost half of them already. I peeked inside each open door as we passed to see dozens people inside each one of them. Cases were clearly being tried one after another like an assembly line.

I felt a tremble of real fear work through me. The public defender had sounded pretty sure on the phone that Luis wouldn’t see jail time, but it wasn’t really up to him. How many kids just like Luis passed through here each day?

The judge had likely seen hundreds, why would he have any sympathy left for the latest one? And I knew how quickly my brother got a temper, how easy it was for him to react with anger. What chance would he have if he couldn’t keep his cool and blew up at the judge? Luis might get the book thrown at him just out of spite.

Luis swallowed hard, but wore a brave face. “We just passed number three. This next one must be it.”

We reached the end of the hallway and were faced with a closed door.

“Is it locked?” I asked nervously. All of the other courtrooms we passed had been open. They weren’t supposed to start taking cases for another twenty minutes. Had I gotten the time wrong? Did they already find Luis guilty? “Try the door.”

The ornate handle turned easily under Luis’s hand. and the door creaked slowly open. I expected to face a full courtroom in session and an angry judge, ready to order us clapped in handcuffs and taken away for the heinous crime of interrupting the proceedings.

But there was no one sitting at the raised bench against the far wall and the room was completely empty.

Or at least I thought it was empty. A man, who had been hidden from view behind a row of chairs, stood from one of the front tables and came around to the aisle.

“The Morenos, I presume.” His accent was neat and cultured.

“Who is this guy?” Luis asked me in a stage-whisper.

I turned to him in surprise. “This isn’t your lawyer?”

“Never seen this dude before in my life.”

“My name is John Phillips of Hampton, Phillips and Morgan, Attorneys at Law.” The man reached out a hand with a silver ring on the pinkie finger and manicured nails. “I’ve been retained to represent you.”

The expensive suit he wore, expertly tailored and complete with diamond cufflinks, was a far cry from what the average public defender could afford.

I ignored the outstretched hand. “You must be mistaken, we didn’t hire an attorney.”

He turned to my brother. “Are you Luis Moreno?”

Luis glanced at me before answering. “Yeah.”

“Then I am your attorney.” Phillips held up a thick case file. “I’ve managed to have your case reassigned to Judge Hawkins. His son has had a few run-ins with the law over the years so he’s sympathetic to youthful indiscretions.”

My brother looked confused. I was pretty sure he had no idea what
indiscretion
meant
.
“Uh…okay.”

“I see you’ve been attending school every day and working a job. You’ve stayed out of trouble since the arrest, correct?”

“Yeah.” Luis rubbed his head, looking a little embarrassed. “Ain’t done nothing wrong.”

“Excellent, then I think it’s very likely that we can do better than probation.” The lawyer tucked the case file underneath his arm and adjusted the sleeves of his suit jacket. “I’m nearly certain that we can get the charges dropped completely.”

“No, shit?”

“Watch it,” I pinched my brother hard on his arm. “The judge isn’t going to throw out your case when you’re cursing in the courtroom.”

“Sorry, Jeez.”

I turned to the lawyer, who watched me with a careful smile. “I’m guessing that you’re not from the public defender’s office.”

Phillips seemed offended by the very notion. “I most certainly am not.”

“Then I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, but we can’t afford a private attorney.”

The lawyer cleared his throat. “My services have been retained. You do not need to be concerned with payment.”

“Retained? So someone else has paid you?”

“Yes.”

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. “Who?”

There was a lengthy pause and the lawyer averted his eyes before speaking. “I believe you know who.”

“What is he talking about?” My brother looked between us in confusion.

I ignored him, my attention focused on the lawyer. “I’m sorry to waste your time but we can’t accept this.”

“I would strongly urge you to reconsider,” Phillips said, his voice carefully neutral. “I assure you that my credentials are impeccable.”

“It’s not really your credentials that I’m worried about.”

“Would you prefer to work with one of my colleagues?”

“No,” I snapped. I forced myself to take a deep breath before my head spun off into the atmosphere. “No, thank you. We’ll be fine with the court-appointed attorney.”

The lawyer tapped his foot impatiently, and the bottom of his dress shoe clicked rhythmically against the marble floor. “The public defender’s office has a caseload five times the appropriate size. You’ll be lucky to get someone who remembers your brother’s name from one day to the next.”

“Everything will be fine, thanks.”

Phillips raised an eyebrow and nodded at Luis. “Are you sure enough to risk your brother’s freedom?”

“Dalea, what are you doing?” Luis hissed at me. “Just let the guy do his job.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I said flatly. “Nothing comes for free.”

“Please, I can’t go to jail,” he begged. “It doesn’t matter why the guy is here.”

It was an awful choice. If Luis went to juvie it would devastate our mother. Even if all he got was probation, the constant threat of going to jail for even the smallest infraction would eventually make him act out even more.

But I also knew what it would mean if I let Julian do this for us — what he would want from me in return. He wanted to push himself into my life, with the flowers, the necklace and now this. He wanted me in his debt. If I didn’t refuse him now, there would be no turning back.

So I had to make the choice: my brother’s freedom or my own.

* * *

“
C
ase dismissed
!” Luis pumped his fist in the air as we exited the courtroom. “Sweetest words in the English language.”

Phillips slid the case file into his briefcase and snapped it closed. “He had no choice, really. There was insufficient evidence to move forward with prosecution. The convenience store’s surveillance cameras were nonfunctional, the owner could not positively identify the culprit and no stolen goods were ever found on your person. Open and shut case.”

“Almost as if anyone — even a public defender — could have handled it,” I said sarcastically.

“Impossible to say,” the lawyer responded evenly. “But your brother gets to walk away from this, I think that’s the most important thing.”

Not for me
, I thought darkly.

“If you ever have another legal need. Feel free to call.” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a business card.

My brother took the card when I made no move to accept it.

“Definitely,” he said.

Phillips gave us a slight nod before turning on his heel. “Good luck.”

As soon as the lawyer was out of sight, I snatched the business card out of my brother’s hand. “This is never going to happen again, Luis. I mean it.”

“But we’re totally set if it does.” He ducked away when I swung at him. “Alright, I get it. No more trouble, I promise.”

“Better not be,” I said threateningly. “Because next time you are on your own.”

He shrugged that off, clearly not believing that I’d ever really abandon him, not that he was wrong about that.

“So are you going to tell me what the deal is with this free lawyer, or what?”

Of course my brother would be curious now that he was no longer in trouble. “Don’t worry about it.”

The previous look of elation on his face turned concerned. “Maybe it’s like outreach, you know, like help for the poor.”

“We shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” I said with a conviction that I didn’t feel. “It’s over now.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I stopped suddenly at the lobby of the courthouse. “I’ll meet you back at home, okay.”

Luis turned back, his face confused. “What, why?”

“It’s nothing, just something I have to do,” I said quickly. “I’ll meet you at home.”

“You sure?”

“It’s fine, just go on.” I grabbed his arm before he could walk away. “And go straight home.”

“Or you could just nag me some more.”

“No stops. I mean it.”

“Okay, no detours. I got it. You need to lighten up, sis.”

I rolled my eyes as he practically skipped to the doors of the courthouse. It was obvious that a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. And most of me was overjoyed for him.

But the other part of me knew what was coming next.

As soon as the double doors slammed closed behind my brother, I walked to the little alcove in the corner of the massive entryway.

Right where Julian Berkmore-Hathaway was waiting for me.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said as I approached.

His hands were tucked into the pockets of a pair of khaki chinos. The polo shirt that he wore was tight enough that it molded to the muscled wall of his chest.

“Is sarcasm your only defense mechanism?”

I avoided looking at his face because I knew even a passing glance would destroy my resolve. “Is battering through every obstacle, regardless of the consequences, yours?”

“Most of the time, actually.” He removed one hand from his pocket and I tensed, but he only glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist. “I assume everything worked out in your brother’s favor.”