Chapter Six
In the morning, she awoke groggy and not wanting to get out of bed. But as she sat up and rubbed her eyes, she remembered that she had a late night last night—thanks to a surprise visit from her former pimp, Landon. Some birds were chirping and the light from outside streamed in through her partially opened drapes, creating a cheery atmosphere that she neither felt nor welcomed. Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled to her nightstand and pulled weak fingers through her messy hair.
There were two things on the agenda today. The first was that she had to do more job hunting. She had a little bit of money left in her bank account, enough at least to pay another month’s worth of rent, but she also knew that she had better find a job soon. If this situation with the bank didn’t work out, she was going to have to look near and far for something that would pay the bills.
The second thing was that she had a date with Garrett that evening. As much as she tried, she could not get over the sort of rugged masculinity and downright sex appeal that only he could possess, as though it flowed from his very pores. She felt a knot of heat form just beneath her bellybutton as she thought of him, wondering how their evening together would turn out. She was shocked at how quickly she had agreed to go on a date with him, despite the fact that she was used to giving her body away to virtual strangers. She chided herself softly, saying, “Once a prostitute, always a prostitute, huh?” But she could not deny the magnetic attraction that existed between the two of them. Though she had only been in his presence on two occasions in person and once on the phone, whenever she was near him time seemed to move more slowly, as though she were locked in a vacuum where nothing seemed to matter but the feel of her body and the lock of their eyes, drawing nearer and nearer together.
Feeling a heat brought on by the thought of him, Maggie decided that she would occupy her mind with different matters. No, there was no use thinking about him now when he only brought color to her cheeks and warmth in her body. She pulled on her white terrycloth robe and padded over to the living area, where she found the stack of newspapers and job-hunting notes that she had made earlier.
Seven hours later she had called fourteen offices and was met by one dead end after another. She went back to her newspaper, where she had used a highlighter and dog-eared certain pages that were of interest to her. Throughout this whole process, she became more and more disheartened, her spirits gradually lowering until finally she put up her hands in a gesture of frustration, let out a huge sigh, and folded herself into the pillows and sofa behind her. The back of her eyes were beginning to hurt, and she even started to wonder if she was doing the right thing. If there was a killer out there, who was to say that he would come after her? After all, there must have been thousands of prostitutes inside the city limits alone. Statistically, she would beat the odds for sure, and wasn’t life itself a constant risk? No, she was too used to the life that had brought her safely out of the smothering and abusive arms of her parents. And if she was really honest with herself, she would admit that she was still intrigued with the excitement and glamor of the whole thing.
She glanced at her kitty clock on the wall, and realized that evening was approaching. Thoughts about Garrett slammed into her as she realized what was going to happen tonight, and the unknown took her breath away. An image flashed before her mind of a man in shadow, his face in profile. How much did she really know about this man?
She assumed that Sam considered Garrett a suspect, but even though it was quite a coincidence that he was there when she discovered her friend’s body, her mind and her heart and her body would not accept as a possibility that he was Darlene’s killer. Why, then, did she shiver just then? She was drawn to him, she knew that. Despite what she was and the emotions that were tearing her apart just beneath the surface, she could recognize within herself the overpowering desire and need to know and be known by this man. Despite what she was—a mere prostitute, a shell—she was shocked to find a resolve within, a daring to know someone intimately when she was so used to deference. That’s what prostitution was. There was no intimacy there, despite the physical closeness. No, it was an alienation from the world to withdraw into a thick shell, a prisoner of one’s own body. She reluctantly picked herself up from her seat and proceeded into her bedroom, tossing her notes back onto the coffee table as she went through the adjoining doorway.
When she realized how much time she had before Garrett would arrive, she then decided to take a bath. Hopefully it would heal the ache in her muscles and steam away all of the tension. As she gently slipped the clothes off of her body and started the hot water running, she made a deep sigh of relief, the events of the preceding days seeming to spin around her in a whirl of relief. She tested the water with her foot, and it was perfect, so she lowered herself slowly into the steaming water. Her sorrow melted away. Her tiredness, her fear, all the emotions that had been surging through her with unbelievable passion danced in her throat, threatening her with a sob. She knew that somewhere out there was someone that she loved, someone who was a killer, and someone who was watching her. How could she tell which one was which? She then knew, with absolute certainty, who the first of them was. The walls in the apartment were the only things sheltering her from the darkness and danger that lurked outside on the streets of Cincinnati. Tonight there was a man coming to take her, no doubt, to one of the city’s trendy restaurants. But she already knew that she loved him, even before she got out of the bath.
After having lost herself in the warm, sudsy water for a time, she reluctantly got out and patted herself dry with a towel. She wiped the steam off of the mirror and lifted a half-smile to herself. Only one question nagged at her. Is he innocent?
When she was still making the finishing touches of her outfit, fastening a gold chain around her throat, adding a belt, she felt her skin begin to shiver. The light outside had dimmed, and the early evening air was becoming like a thick, dark blanket that surrounded her like an impenetrable shield.
Several people were walking briskly along the sidewalks on the ground below. Maggie saw their breaths steam as street lights partially illuminated them, casting long shadows that cried mystery and danger. A traffic light blinked on and off, and she took in a sharp breath when she saw someone that could have been Garrett. Again impulsivity took over her and she wanted to run out there, perhaps even chase down the person she believed was following her the other night. But would she dare? She was never one to want to be frightened by anyone. She saw a glimpse—was it a vision?—of a sharp knife glinting from an unidentifiable person’s hand. She gasped, then narrowed her eyes. She did not see it again. And then the knife seemed to plunge into her heart when she realized who that man must have been. Garrett.
It is a strange thing to be stabbed in the heart when there had been no notice, no warning that such a thing should happen. It was just an inkling, and the vision she saw she now realized was that. Why would it hurt her so much to believe that Garrett was indeed the man responsible for Darlene’s death, amongst others? Maggie was frightened by the severity of her conviction that this was, indeed, the truth. Garrett’s square face and dark, probing brown eyes flashed before her vision. There was a raw appeal to his harsh features, one that she could not deny.
It was not as though she had known him for all of her life, but the striking impression he made on her the first time she met him was enough to make her feel as though she had known him for even longer than that. Maggie could dare not look out of the window then, but she knew what was coming. Soon he would come up to meet her and the sound of his gravelly voice would whisper across her throat and she would be helpless to stop that which would come next. Wind then rattled the window pane, and Maggie closed her eyes.
Maggie shook her head. She refused to believe it. She could believe that Garrett was following her the night she discovered the hanging body of her friend. But nothing else seemed to add up. She had been in that bar not much more than an hour after she saw Darlene disappearing into a sleek sedan. How would he have managed to strangle her, break into an unoccupied apartment, hang her from the rafters and then settle down for a leisurely drink in the bar? Garrett had seemed quite relaxed that night, nowhere near the mess of anxiety that she would have expected him to be if he were guilty of just committing a heinous crime.
Sam Langley hadn’t liked the man the moment he had met him. As much as she liked Sam, though, she couldn’t listen to him about this one. She was in too deep already and she knew it. Goose pimples formed on her arms, and she realized that she was cold. Snow began to fall outside and she waited there, in the sitting room, for several more minutes as she awaited the time that she was supposed to meet Garrett.
Maggie opened the door to meet him downstairs when his dark, penetrating eyes met hers. Garrett was standing there, a few snowflakes on his shoulders, peering down at her with a small upward curl on one of his lips. He wore a black-and-white checked silk shirt with two buttons undone, casual slacks, and black loafers. She noticed the two cufflinks which glinted as she realized they were real diamonds. “Weren’t we supposed to meet downstairs?” he asked, and now both corners of his mouth curved upwards into a charming, almost playful, smile.
Maggie glanced back at the darkly stained wooden clock and realized her tardiness. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Garrett, but I must have lost track of the time. I knew we were going to meet tonight, but time got carried away with me…” In her haste and fluster, she must have snagged her pantyhose, because she looked down and discovered a long run on her right calf.
He eyed the long, lean leg that was exposed, his eyes glowing with a muted heat. There was a menacing shadow to Garrett’s face, an eerie sense of mystery to the way that he was holding himself, one arm leaning casually against the doorway. Maggie felt it when she shivered, looking away from him bashfully. Her mind flashed back to the vision she had had of him walking in the street, carrying what looked like a weapon. “Let me just grab my coat,” she whispered, her voice shaking a bit.
She whisked by him as he took another long, sweeping look at her. “Dear, you look incredible,” he commented in a low, luxurious voice. “I have to say that I’ve been looking forward to this evening all day.” He was wearing a smoky, musky scent—a little detail that did not escape her as she bumped into him, and she dipped her head in apology as he smiled demurely at her. As they walked towards the elevators the hallway was cool and dim. Garrett made lots of light conversation, talking about his day at work and about the construction company that their business was dealing with in order to expand their headquarters. As they swung through the front doors, a blast of cold, crisp air rushed at them. Maggie began to feel more at ease once he led her to his car, which was a black ’97 Jaguar. She felt even more at ease once he chivalrously opened the passenger side door for her and waited for her to enter. Garrett jangled his keys and gracefully sauntered over to the driver’s side.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” he asked, pulling out a nice-looking cigar. Maggie shook her head, pulling her black, sequined purse closer to her body. Most women, in Maggie’s experience, didn’t like the smell of cigar smoke. But this one had a rich, leathery scent that she couldn’t help but enjoy. He flicked his eyes to her, easing his hands over the steering wheel. She coughed quietly a couple of times when the smoke tickled her throat. She could see the lights flickering as they neared the downtown district. “Where would you like to go?” he asked. “It’s lady’s choice tonight. Anywhere you want.”
Maggie looked up through the window into the blackness of the night and the blinking lights of the city downtown. She could feel the heat of Garrett’s body next to hers—could feel the softness of the leather beneath her. “Let’s go to the club I know about… on Jackson and Hewitt. I’ll show you where it is.”
“Sure thing, sweetcakes.” He made a humming noise as he turned on the stereo system, inserting a compact disc with a silver-colored case. When the music came on, he played it softly and the sound was sexy and methodical. It was a sultry blend of chords that could have been a form of jazz, but with no lyrics. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as the traffic gave way; soon they were coasting swiftly along a four-lane street.
When they arrived at the club several minutes later, a group of women and men hovered close to the entrance, the women wearing shimmery dresses and glitzy purses, the men in nice slacks and button-down shirts. A couple of the women were smoking. Flashing lights advertised the front of “The Escape House.” A man waved at Garrett to head towards the back for parking. Maggie heard laughter float hauntingly through the cold night air.
Once in a parking space, Garrett held the door open for her and kissed her cheek. His breath smelled like strong mints. Maggie felt a warmth course through her body as blood rushed to her cheeks. It was electric, and exhilarating.
“I meant to tell you sooner,” she said, as her breath billowed from her mouth in a steamy cloud. Garrett pulled at her sweater, tightening it around her middle. They were alone in the parking lot, and the closest person around was the parking attendant. She could see him in his uniform hat talking with a group of people who were about to enter the building. “I don’t know if I feel right being around all these nice people,” she said, her voice drifting off. “I’m not used to hitting the town. And I don’t want to disappoint you, seeing as how you were nice enough to agree to taking me out tonight. I might have thought you were something different, and maybe I suspected you of something before, but I’m definitely sure that’s not the truth, now…” Was she talking too much?
He touched her bottom lip with his right index finger. “Hush, now. What are you trying to say to me? Something about ‘nice people’?”
“I’m not like them,” she tried to say. What she wanted was to tell him everything about her other life. She wanted to explain why she had been acting so mysteriously about her identity and where she had come from. She wanted to tell him how she knew Darlene, how it was that he came into the picture, and about how she was trying to turn her life around now that her best friend was gone.
He kissed her then, and it came as a complete surprise to her. The kiss was soft and slow, warm and moist. She felt a heat below her belly that warmed her to the tips of her toes. She heard the rumble of a train rushing nearby as Garrett held the lapels of her jacket and released the kiss slowly, adding one more, a softer one, to her bottom lip before pulling away. “I had wanted to catch you alone,” he breathed. “You taste… sweet.” He pulled back strands of hair from her face. “Since the first night I met you, I have been waiting for the opportunity to kiss you.” She gave a start when he traced the tip of his right finger along her collarbone. “I want to know more about you.”
“—But Garret,” she protested.
“Shhh, don’t say anything,” he said, languidly looking at her mouth.
Undeniably there was chemistry between them. Maggie had put one foot into a chasm that would pull her deeper and deeper, never letting her climb out again. Warning bells were going off left and right in her head, but nevertheless, she could not turn away, could not fight the overpowering urge to kiss him back, to touch him, to breathe in his scent. To her horror, she had dragged him into her world of brokenness and devastation, spiraling inward into an inescapable vacuum. She could not break free, nor could she rescue him from entering into her shattered world.
And then, she shut down. Suddenly cold towards him, she pushed away and lowered her arms. “I wish I could tell you more, Garrett,” she simply said. “But there’s really not much to say. What do you want to know? I could tell you where I was born and where I grew up, but that’s a little boring, now isn’t it? I love living in Cincinnati, I love my cat, and I lost my best friend. What more could there possibly be?” The cold was beginning to bother her and she wrapped her arms around her chest, dancing from one foot to the other on her four-inch black stiletto heels.
“But Maggie, I’m obsessed with you,” he said then. “I want to know more.” But a group of twenty-something young men and women walked by them at that moment, laughing and chattering amongst themselves. Garrett took her by the arm and led her towards the building. The cold wind bit at her limbs. The sky was so black that she could barely see the both of them walking towards the club, save the blinking lights at the entrance.
And still there was that suspicion, wondering deep in her heart whether he knew anything about what happened to Darlene, or even deeper, whether he was the one who had killed her in the first place.