“—mean nothing by it. I know. And I’m not your fuckin’ papa.” Gareth pulled her back and tossed her petite naked frame onto the bed. She kicked and flailed her legs, bunching up the sheets, trying to slide out of the reach of the broken bottle, but once he was on top of her, she couldn’t move. He straddled her, putting all of his weight on her chest, crushing the wind out of her, pinning her arms.
Angel screamed. He let go of her hair and slid his hand, slick with his own blood, over her mouth. He leaned in close when he spoke to her. The stink of whiskey and sweat coated her face like a film. She wanted to throw up.
“So, Annette, I was thinking about the last time you got lippy with me. You remember?”
Angel just stared back, wide-eyed, unable to answer or breathe through her mouth.
“The last time I had to straighten you out. I hit you right here.” Gareth held the edge of the broken bottle to the side of Angel’s nose. “Do you remember, Annette?”
Angel struggled to push her head down deeper into the pillow and out of the bottle’s reach, but Gareth pushed down harder. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the glass press into her skin. She screamed through his hand, but no one could hear her. Blood spilled onto the sheets on both sides of her head, forming Rorschach wings on the cotton as he dragged the broken glass across her face.
When he was finished, he got off her and tossed the bottle to the floor. He walked back to the mirror and stared at the blood smeared across his arms and chest. He turned on the faucet and held his hands under the water until it was scalding.
Angel pulled herself to the floor and slowly crossed the carpet toward the door.
“Aw, now where you going?” Gareth said, and she stopped cold. “You don’t wanna be my friend no more?” He squatted down and looked at her with the curiosity a hunter would give a wounded animal. “You can’t leave until you get paid,” he said. “I mean, you are a whore after all, right?” He swiped up the two twenties he had laid on the table earlier, crumpled the bills in his hand, and stuffed them into Angel’s mouth. She gagged. He stood her up, opened the door, and threw her battered figure into the second-floor guardrail right next to where Val was standing.
“What the hell, Gareth?” he said.
“Get this bitch outta here,” Gareth said, and closed the door.
Within minutes he was asleep.
2.
Val came back out on the breezeway with a bath towel, a wet rag, and a thousand dollars in cash. “Hey, can you hear me?”
Angel shrank back from his voice, lifting her shoes and dress to block her face from this new threat.
“Don’t be scared, girl. I’m not gonna hurt you. I want to help you, okay? I want to help.” He held out the towel. She hesitated but finally lowered her shoes, snatched the towel from his hands and covered herself the best she could. The left side of her face was on fire and it hurt to breathe. Her ribs felt broken.
“You’re . . . his . . . friend,” she said between short, stuttered breaths.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“He cut me . . . my face.”
Val went to touch her cheek, but she winced and pulled away. “It hurts.”
“Yes, ma’am. Here, put this on it.” He handed her the wet rag. “Keep pressure on it like this.” He took her hand in his and pressed the rag down on her wound.
“It hurts so bad.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Can you help me? Can you call the police, or an ambulance or something?”
Val scanned the parking lot below them, then cupped his mouth and sighed into his hands. “No, ma’am. I can help, but I can’t do that.”
“Can I use your phone, then, or something, please? I can’t stay out here like this. Please? You said you wanted to help.”
“I do, but you can’t use my phone. If you call the police, or if they send an ambulance here, you’ll need to explain yourself, and then someone is going to get killed.”
“Someone needs to get killed.” Angel propped herself up against the rail as best she could and dabbed the edge of the towel under her bloody nose. Val held a finger to his lips.
“Keep your voice down and listen to me. I won’t call the police, or an ambulance, but I will call you a taxicab. You can get dressed and wait down by the street. I’ll tell them where to pick you up.”
Angel looked around on the ground until she spotted the twenties she had spit out lying on a steel grate next to her.
“Don’t worry about the money,” Val said. “I’ll take care of it. Just wait for the cab and get yourself to a hospital.”
Angel fidgeted under the towel, trying to pull her panties on with her free hand. Val averted his eyes. He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a thousand dollars in hundreds, and held it up for her to see. “Can you do that?” he said. “Can you go wait down by the street and then get yourself some help?”
Angel nodded.
“I’m serious, girl. If you send the police or anyone else here looking for the man in that room, things will not end well for you. Things will not end well for me, either. Do you understand?”
She nodded again.
“Say the words.”
“I’ll go to a hospital and I won’t call the police.”
“Or anyone else.”
“Or anyone else.”
“Promise me.”