She was painting her toenails in front of the squat window that sat high on the wall of their room, the glass pane wedged open by her mother, who’d used a stool to reach it. They weren’t technically allowed to paint their nails, but she’d come to her mother’s room to feel close to her and had found the little bottle on the nightstand. She painted her last toe—the baby—and leaned back to look. It was bold, and people would notice. She felt a burst of defiance. Let them look! Hadn’t that been what her mother intended when she bought it? She was so deeply sorry for the things she’d said the last time they’d spoken.
Suddenly, she heard voices and the sound of laughter. Someone was walking in the hall outside her mother’s room. She perched on her haunches, her ears strained and her heart racing. She was supposed to be in the kitchen tonight, helping with dinner, but she’d left minutes after arriving, slipping out before anyone noticed. The little bottle of blue polish sat near her feet, and she deftly swept it under the bed as the knock sounded. The smell of it still lingered in the air. The knock sounded again, knuckles rapping on the wood right in front of her face, and she jumped back, hesitating, and then swung open the door. She’d forgotten to put her socks back on—she should have, even though the polish was still wet—and now she stood barefoot in front of Taured, ten little sins exposed.
“Hey there.” He smiled. “Wanna take a walk?”
The sins of the parents will be visited upon their children...
Had he followed her, or did someone tell him she was here? Lately, she’d been skirting her chores, skipping journaling. She felt...different.
“A walk where?” Had she ever felt this angry, and defiant, and afraid, all at the same time?
“Does it matter?”
It wouldn’t have a month ago, she thought, sliding her feet into her shoes. A week ago, even.
“I s’pose not. The compound is the compound.” She was trying to make light of the situation, but Taured frowned. She’d said something wrong.
He never called it the compound. To him, this place of bleak blocks and chain-link fencing was a refuge from the rest of the world, not a prison. His smile did not reach his eyes as she stepped out and pulled the door closed.
Mama, she thought. I want my mama.
“Is my mother—?”
“She’s fine.”
So where are we going? Why do you pay so much attention to Feena? Why does my mother keep bringing back people if she hates it here? She held all these thoughts behind her teeth, trying to make herself as small as possible as she walked beside him.
“Where are we going?”
“To the kitchen for a snack. Are you hungry?”
“I am,” she said.
But instead of turning left down the main hallway that led to the kitchen, he turned right. That was wrong. Something ugly tickled her spine and she wondered what would happen if she just ran for it.
Taured stopped when they reached his office. She opened her mouth to ask why as he swung the door wide. Her mouth was still open when the smell hit her. Summer took a step closer, taking it all in: fist-size dinner rolls, a plate of melon and grapes, fried chicken and a tower of mashed potatoes. It wasn’t a holiday, but this was a holiday meal. Her mouth grew sticky with spit and her head felt light. She hadn’t eaten today. Had she eaten yesterday? After all her fasting, she couldn’t remember; food wasn’t on her to-do list right now.
“Please, sit,” Taured said. “I had this meal prepared so we could spend some time together. I’m afraid that in my overall business I’ve neglected you girls...”
She sat; the smell of the food felt overpowering.
“First, we drink.” He poured iced tea from a pitcher into a wineglass and handed it to her. But instead of pouring tea for himself, he lifted his glass to a box on his sideboard and, as he poured from a decanter, dark red wine tumbled into his glass. Summer sipped. She was scared, but soon that started to drain away. There was music playing...the radio. She hadn’t heard that type of music in a long time, and she closed her eyes, humming all over with the vibrations.
He made a plate for her. Summer had never seen Taured serve anyone. She was so hungry. She ate too fast, the food delicious; she was sloppy. She kept apologizing for the mess she was making, but Taured would just smile and sip his wine. And then she was so full and so happy she closed her eyes and...
“Wonderful,” she said now, pivoting her body toward him, as if the sight of the uncooked food had had no effect on her. “Who will be cooking?”
She knew the answer to that. Taured couldn’t cook; he liked to pretend he could, because God forbid there be something the almighty Taured couldn’t do, but there was always a cook behind his meals. He needed people to feel like they had to do things for him.
This is too easy, she thought.
Don’t get cocky right now. You’re just another woman cooking his meals, and that smell you’re wrinkling your nose at is your own fear. Her mother’s voice this time.
She unwrapped the meat from its packaging. The range was huge, but fortunately she’d used one like this before. She’d been a server all through college, and for one summer, she’d dated a line cook.
The broiler was a Viking, and the pilot light was on. She lit the range and stood with her back to Taured to watch it, but more to show him that she trusted he was in control.
If you could see my face, you’d know I want to kill you.
She closed her eyes, smoothed down her disgust until it was an indecipherable lump under her surface and then she turned. He’d never lit the range at the compound, he had women to do that for him. One thing about Taured: he appreciated a useful woman. He smiled at her and it was almost fatherly. It was the same smile she’d seen the first day at the compound when she was barely thirteen; she’d fallen right into that smile, into those arms. She thought of Derek, his reedy unsure son—Sara’s son. Male lions sometimes ate their own cubs, she reminded herself. She stretched then, and, hands on her waist, she extended her neck back, rolling it from side to side. Taured watched her, making no move to stop her. Instead, he took a step back to give her space. Even farther behind him, at the end of the table, she thought she saw Braithe move. She withdrew her eyes quickly so he wouldn’t notice.
“It has to heat up,” she said, taking up warrior one pose in the space behind the range and the wall. “Being tied up like that messed with my back.” She took deep breaths without turning around, letting her body stretch out of the last few days, but more importantly, allowing her mind to stretch. Go slowly.
“You can pour yourself a drink if you want. I have to tenderize the meat.”
She bit the insides of her cheeks, latched the soft tissue between her molars to stay focused.
He regarded her for a moment, then said, “I’ll make us both one.”
“I don’t drink,” she lied, reaching for the package of steak. The wrapper was bloody as she unrolled the paper.
“I’ve seen you drink.”
This time her breath did betray her. The wall in front of her was stainless steel, nothing to look at, but she looked. Stared.
“What?” Taured feigned innocence. She shook it off...shook her head and asked for one of Ginger’s plastic sporks.
Digging one out from the box, he put it in her outstretched hand. Rainy bent her head over the steaks, stabbing the meat with small, aggressive jabs. What was this dance? What was his plan? Focus.
Taured was to her right, blocking her view of Braithe and the door. He looked at their wine option and signaled her with the gun. “You’ll have to open it.”
He’d been watching her? When? How? But she couldn’t let him see that he’d rattled her. She needed him to be relaxed.
“What are you talking about?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He took his time answering, obviously wanting to drag out the moment so he could enjoy her discomfort. “The boxed wine. I need you to open it.”
He’s toying with you. Don’t let him see a thing, Rainy.
Resolute, she took the four steps to where he pointed, wiping her palms on her pants. He was holding the gun loosely at his side, standing slightly to the right of the boxed wine, waiting. She was close to him again, his heat perverting the air like a wild animal.