The Sudden Star (20 page)

Aisha clasped Simon's arm. She had assumed René would simply forget about her. Simon was silent.

"You know," the officer continued, "you could have used another name here. We don't consider that a crime, long as you don't violate the laws in this town. Well, I did a little checkin', and I find there's a warrant out for one of you, and some talk about a reward for information about the other. Well, I find it interestin'."

"You're not scaring me," Simon said evenly. "There's no extradition agreement between Florida and New York. I had a permit to enter this city, and that's all I need."

The policeman smiled genially. "Why, you're absolutely right. No one says we have to extradite. No one says we don't have to extradite. You see, sometimes there's hard feelin's about all this, like we're a sanctuary for just any kind of criminal riffraff. Now we want people to feel welcome, but on the other hand, there's boats goin' north all the time, and sometimes a fugitive finds himself on board one if it means enough to someone up there. Now, I don't see that we have a hell of a lot of incentive to keep you here." He sighed regretfully. "You didn't plan such a good escape, Negron. No money, no friends."

Aisha thought: It's all over. The officer wanted a payoff and they had no money. She dug her nails into her palms.

"Why don't you get to the point?" Simon said.

"Listen," the officer said, spreading his hands, palms up, "I have no reason to ship you north. I won't get much, just some money from a boat captain, and it won't be half of what he gets on delivery. Besides, we like to think of our town as kind of like a little haven for the oppressed, and folks get insecure if someone gets shipped back for no reason. But I see here that your permits run out by the end of the month, and if you can't stay, we might as well see you get transportation home."

"We know what you want," Aisha heard herself saying. "You know we can't get work here and we can't pay you."

The officer rose. He seemed so tall she thought for a moment his head had brushed the ceiling. "Oh, I think you might have some ingenuity. I'm doin' you a kindness, lettin' you know just where you stand. My name's Rabe, Officer Rabe, and I'll be seein' you again. Make sure you don't move without leavin' a forwardin' address, 'cause I'd like to visit, and I might get a little sore if I can't locate you." He let himself out the door. His footsteps sounded heavy on the stairs.

Simon buried his head in his hands. Frustrated, Aisha paced to the table, glaring at the half-empty water bottle. She ground her teeth. Simon slapped his hands together and she jumped.

He glared past her as if not seeing her at all. "I've been stupid," he said. "We may as well bet everything now. We have no choice." He got up, unbuckled his belt, and spilled the remaining coins on the table. "You're going to take this and get the best-looking dress you can find, and I don't mean anything trashy. You want something expensive and subdued."

"You're crazy," she said. "I can't work the hotels here, I don't know anyone, I'll get—"

"That's not what you're going to do. Titus is giving a party tonight, I heard someone mention it before the doorman got rid of me. I'm putting you in a rickshaw and you're going to it."

"I can't, I'll never get in."

He leaped toward her and grabbed her arm, twisting it. "Damn it, listen to me. I know Titus, he always liked having pretty women around, he probably asked some to the party. You just have to go and look like you belong there. You ought to know how to do it. You're a whore, aren't you?"

She pulled away, blinking her eyes rapidly. A lump was forming in her throat; she wanted to kick and scream. "I wasn't high-class," she said bitterly. "I didn't have such a select clientele." Suddenly she hated Simon, hated every man she'd ever seen or heard of in her life. Blood pounded at her temples; she thought of her knife in her hand, rising and falling, stabbing and rending,
that
for her cousin who would stick a hand up her dress, saying she'd better not tell,
that
for Lono,
that
for the army officer who used her like a boy,
that
for the man in the cruiser,
that
for every man who had ever given her money and smiled. She dreamed of blood flowing over her hands and her ears sang:
Kill, kill
, kill.

Simon was shaking her. She put her hands in front of her face, warding him off. She realized she had a headache. Her head seemed trapped in a vise. Simon was holding her more gently. "You'd better get going," he said. "We don't have much time."

Aisha hesitated at the door, then followed the other women into the suite. The room was huge; looking around, she estimated that there might be seventy people at the party, and there was room for more. The guests had draped themselves over antique modular furniture or sat in wicker chairs. Aisha moved forward and almost collided with a potted palm.

Simon had been right. Gathering all her courage, she had marched into the lobby downstairs as if she belonged in it, and hadn't been stopped; the doorman had glanced only briefly at her papers. After positioning herself near the elevator, she had waited until four young women approached it, and heard one of them mention Echeverria's name. She had joined them, trembling slightly, but they hardly noticed her. The only ordeal had been a thorough search by Echeverria's guards before the women were allowed to enter. The guards had enjoyed that, the women had not.

She made her way to the bar on the side of the room. She asked the bartender for some fruit juice, then noticed a nearby table with appetizers. She looked at the tasty morsels and her stomach tightened; she was too nervous to eat. She clutched her glass, feeling almost naked without her knife. It had been taken from her at the door and she wasn't sure her blue silk dress looked right without it. She peered at a small group in front of her; only one man among them was wearing a knife. Either styles were different here, or he was trusted.

Someone brushed against her. She turned and saw a short, chubby redhead, one of the women who had been with her on the elevator. The redhead smiled, showing tiny, perfect teeth. "Hi, you were on the elevator with me, weren't you?" She picked up a meatball and tucked it into her mouth. "I'm Corazon Huff," she said with her mouth full.

"I'm Aisha Baraka."

"Have I seen you here before?" Corazon picked up a little sausage wrapped in pastry. "You should try one of these."

"This is my first time," Aisha said cautiously.

"It's a good thing you got here early. The ones who get here late just lose out. Of course, this party isn't that big, so some girls just didn't come at all. Titus is really very generous. He always feeds you, and you can drink all you want, even if you don't find a client. I sure do feel sorry for those poor things who'll wind up standing around in the lobby." Corazon brushed a few crumbs off her pink dress. "You a worker or a tourist?"

"Uh, a tourist, I guess."

"Don't you know?"

"I'm visiting the city."

Corazon gulped down another meatball. "Let me give you some good advice. Don't undercut anybody. The rate's fifty dollars, and if you take less, not-nice things happen to you. We like to keep the price up, you know. If one of the working ladies introduces you to a client, she gets ten percent for her trouble. And if you cut someone else out of a possible deal she might have had if you weren't here, it's nice to give her a ten. You tourists owe us that, after all. We could keep a closed shop if we wanted to at these things."

"Thank you," Aisha said, trying to smile and feeling she was out of her depth. "I don't think I'll be any trouble to you anyway. I only came to see Titus Echeverria."

Corazon's mouth dropped open. She stared at Aisha, batting her long eyelashes. "Oh, really," she said. "You only want to see Titus. My God. I suppose you just think you can stroll right up to him."

Aisha drank her fruit juice quickly and put down the glass, trying to think of what to say. "I shouldn't have put it that way," she said at last. "What I meant was, well, it's just my system, you see. I aim high. If it doesn't work out, I make an arrangement with somebody else, but if you start at the top and work down, you know, you might do better than—" She paused, smiling again at the redheaded woman.

Corazon chuckled. "It makes sense. It might just work for you. You're not Titus's sort, but you're probably one of the best-looking women here."

Aisha sighed, relieved. "Which one is Titus?"

Corazon stood on her toes, straining to see. "He's over there, in the corner by the window." Aisha looked and saw a short, round man in a white suit; his lightly tanned forehead glistened. A handsome, gray-haired man, also dressed in white, stood next to him, draping his arm over the back of Echeverria's wicker chair. Echeverria lifted his hand; two men and a woman went to him, hiding him from Aisha.

"Can you introduce me?" she said to Corazon.

The redhead giggled. "If I could introduce people to Titus," she said, "I'd be a lot richer. Sorry. You'll just have to wander over and hope he’ll notice, but he usually doesn't. He certainly isn't going to with his future father-in-law standing there." Aisha assumed she meant the gray-haired man. "Just be subtle about it. Don't keep loitering or he might have you thrown out. I've seen it happen."

"If anything happens," Aisha said impulsively, "I'll give you a commission."

"I really don't expect anything to happen." Corazon finished another sausage and wandered off.

Aisha, trying to look inconspicuous, circled the room, moving toward the window. The window was open. She looked out and saw the pale beach far below. She sniffed at the salty ocean air. For a moment, at least, she could pretend everything was all right. She listened to the sea rolling in, heard the murmur of the voices behind her, punctuated by laughter. She wanted to stay here; she imagined the party continuing, the sun never rising. She sneaked a glance at Echeverria; he was still busy with his friends.

A woman was standing near her, also staring out the window. She glanced at Aisha quickly, with violet eyes. She wore lavender; the silver knife belt around her hips looked more decorative than functional. Her skin was pale, as if she never went outdoors. Her silvery-white hair was pulled back from her face. Aisha opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. The pale young woman seemed surrounded by an invisible wall.

The woman turned and walked toward Echeverria. She nodded to the older man, who took her arm. Echeverria rose, kissed her on the cheek, then patted her rump. She stiffened, as if not wanting him to touch her, and left with the older man. She must be, Aisha thought, the woman Echeverria was to marry.

One of the men near Echeverria looked at Aisha suspiciously. She moved away from the window, recalling Corazon's advice about loitering. She almost bumped into a thin, bald man. He smiled down at her. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Maybe later," she answered, smiling back.

"Don't wander off. I'll be looking for you."

She retreated to the table of appetizers, feeling that she must force herself to eat something. The room was growing warmer, the smoke and noise was making her weak and disoriented. She ate a sausage. It sat in her stomach like a stone. She thought of the bald man. She could leave with him, or with someone else, get some money, buy more time for herself and Simon. She toyed with the idea; she could come back to another party some other time. She could take care of herself and forget about Simon. That was probably the smart thing to do. She felt a pang at that, not sure why. He trusted her, no one else had; anyone else might have abandoned her during the hardships of their journey.

A big man was weaving his way through the knots of people toward her. She watched him, not recognizing him at first until he came up to her. He wore a wrinkled gray suit and a revolver at the waist. His freckled face wrinkled as he smiled. "Well, well," he said, standing with his thumbs in the belt that circled his wide waist. "I see I'm not the only one moonlightin'."

She clenched her hands behind her back. She said, "Hello, Officer Rabe."

He signaled to the bartender while Aisha felt the muscles in her face grow tight with despair. She tried to make her mind blank, knowing she wouldn't suffer as much if she didn't think.

He swallowed his drink in one gulp, then leaned over her, one large hand on the wall. "Now, I sincerely hope you're not workin' this party here, 'cause that's illegal. You see, we like to protect our residents from any possible extortion or blackmail attempts."

"I'm not working."

"I really can't see why else you'd be in attendance."

"I'm visiting," she said desperately. "I came to speak with Titus Echeverria."

He drew back a bit. "Is that so? Well, then, why aren't you over there visitin' with him?"

"I haven't had a chance," she said weakly.

Rabe grinned and took her arm, clutching it tightly with his calloused fingers. "Then let's remedy that, Miss Aisha. If I had known you had friends here of that caliber, I certainly would have had a more congenial discussion with you and the doctor. I hire out as a guard sometimes to Mr. Echeverria there, and it's about time for me to be at my post." He propelled her across the room and past the knot of people gathered in the corner. An armed man near the wicker chair stepped away and Rabe took his place.

Echeverria raised an eyebrow. He glanced idly at Rabe, then at Aisha. His chubby face looked petulant. "Who's this girl, Rabe?" he said in a high tenor voice. The people near him looked coldly at her. Her cheeks burned.