I stared at her a good ten seconds, then bent down, picked up the cuff with my left hand, moved it close to my right hand, which I used to apply half the cuff. Then I slipped the other cuff around the railing and closed it.
“I need to hear it close,” Trixie said. I squeezed it, and she heard the telltale click. “That’s good.” She produced two keys from her jeans. “I’m going to leave these right on the table here, so that when someone comes to rescue you, you’ll be able to get those off right away. And promise me you won’t start yelling your head off as soon as I leave here. I need some time to get away. If you’re going to yell, I’m going to have to leave you gagged.” She nodded at some red balls attached to straps that were hanging on the wall with the other S&M equipment.
“That won’t be necessary,” I said quietly.
Still holding the gun, she came up close to me. “Where are your car keys?”
“What?”
“Zack, just tell me where they are.”
“Front pants pocket,” I said, and Trixie came alongside me and slid her slender fingers down into the pocket of my jeans as I once again tested the cuffs on the railing.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m only going after your keys.” She found them, gave them a shake. “I’ll just take the car keys, not your house keys. I figure they know what kind of car I’ve got, so it’s better if I get a running start in yours. You can have my car. I’ll leave you my set on the kitchen counter.”
“Trixie, you’re making a big mistake. Let me help you through this.”
“I need help, that’s for sure,” she said. “But not the kind I think you’re up to.” She leaned in close to me, her face so close to mine I could feel her breath. “I know I keep telling you this, Zack, but I’m really sorry about everything. Maybe someday I can make it up to you.”
And she leaned in and kissed me, placed her mouth squarely on mine, slipped a hand behind my head so I couldn’t try to pull away. She moved her lips over mine for a second or more, pulled away, leaned in to me again for a small, follow-up peck, and smiled sadly at the shocked expression I guess was on my face.
“Sarah’s a very lucky gal,” she said, and climbed to the top of the stairs. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure someone comes and finds you.”
“Trixie,” I said, one last time. “Just tell me. Why are you doing this?”
She paused, looked at me very seriously for a moment, and said, “I’m not going to let them get my little girl.”
And then she was gone.
She was late.
A couple of days, Miranda didn’t worry. Took note of it, but didn’t panic or anything. But then it was a week. Ten days. Now it was time to panic. She went to the drugstore and came home with a pregnancy test. Went into the bathroom, closed the door.
“What’s up, Candace?” Eldon said. “You seem funny.”
She came out a few minutes later. “You’ve knocked me up,” she said.
“Huh?” he said.
“I’m gonna have a kid,” Miranda said. She had no idea what he would do. Storm out, maybe? Start screaming? Accuse her of fucking up her birth control? She thought maybe he’d hit her. That’s the sort of thing her dad did when she said something that upset him. Just whacked her upside the head. Eldon had never hit her, but there was always a first time. There always had to be a first time when a guy you thought loved you took a swing at you.
He said, “You think it’s a girl?”
She said, “What?”
“A girl. You think it’s a girl? Because, you’re so beautiful, if it’s a girl, she’ll be beautiful too.”
The guy was full of surprises.
Gary had already been letting her split her time between the stage and the office upstairs. He’d turned over the books to her, but once in a while, a girl would take off sick, Gary’d tell her, “Go downstairs and do some bump and grind. If we didn’t have the ol’ bump and grind goin’ on, there’d be no books to balance.” Like Miranda should be grateful he was giving her a chance to take her clothes off because it gave her money to count upstairs later.
But once she started showing, well, that was it. Nobody wanted to drink their beer watching some chick who was knocked up.
So in a way, it all worked out okay. Sort of.
But in the back of her mind, Miranda was thinking about the kind of world she was going to bring this baby into. She hadn’t known, for several years now, a particularly respectable life. Not like her sister, Claire. She and Don had gotten married, they had a decent apartment now, not some place over a pizza joint. She had her secretary job, he had his job at Ford. Not that they’d have to worry that much about bringing any kid into the world. Claire couldn’t have kids, it turned out.
How crazy. Claire’s home was the perfect one in which to raise a child, but she couldn’t have one.
And I’m the one who’s pregnant, thought Miranda. Working in a bar with strippers and hookers and dope dealers.