Violet Grenade

Chapter Fifty


Lullaby Lie


The next morning, the rankings scroll across the Tulips’ digital placement board. I’m awarded top rank for the week, but Poppet falls into third place. I guess the customers were as tired of the stuffy atmosphere as I was. They wanted some excitement, Poppet tells me, and I gave it to them.

She pretends to be happy for me, but I can tell she’s afraid of being separated. I reassure her that it won’t be an issue for much longer, and when she asks what I mean, I cave and tell her what Cain and I discovered the night before.

Poppet and I are standing on the front porch when I share the news. The sun shines merrily, ignorant as I speak in a hushed tone. Poppet rocks on the porch swing, the chains squeaking in time with her movements.

When I’m done explaining, she says, “So when do we leave?”

I can’t stop the smile that parts my mouth. “You mean you’ll come?”

“Well, yeah. I’m sure as hell not staying here. Did you think I would after you told me this?”

“I wasn’t certain,” I admit. “I wondered if you’d believe me.”

Poppet moves her jaw side to side as she thinks. “I would never have believed it before I saw the madam the way she was the other night. She shoved you, Domino. And she was acting crazy.” Her voice grows small. “And I see the bruises. Are you okay?”

I rub my hands together. “I’m fine. But I think things will get worse. Mr. Hodge is seeing another woman, and when Madam Karina finally catches him in the act, she’s going to tighten her hold on her remaining assets.”

“So what do we do?”

I can’t help but love Poppet when she asks this. She’s so ready to believe me, so ready to follow where I lead. “We need some cash before we run. I don’t think we’re in immediate danger, and though those girls looked pretty bad, I believe they can hang on a little longer.”

“How will we get the money?” Poppet asks.

My gaze travels to the Lilies’ guesthouse. I can just see it from where we stand.

Poppet must follow my line of thinking, because she says, “I can’t go with you. I don’t think Madam Karina ever cared about my advancing. It was always only you.”

As strange as it is, I’m struck by the urge to correct Poppet. To assure her that Madam Karina cares about her as much as she does me. But we both know I’d be lying. The madam selects her favorites on impulse, without much reasoning other than a gut reaction. And why should we care who she favors, anyway?

“Will you try to convince the customers to pay you in cash?” Poppet asks.

“Just one.”

She scratches her cheek. “I’ve heard of girls doing it before. Just mumblings.”

Poppet seems like she’s about to add something else when the screen door swings open. My stomach clenches, and Poppet’s mouth snaps shut.

Madam Karina steps into view.

The woman’s face lights up when she sees Poppet. “Oh, sweetie, I thought Domino was alone out here. I saw you finished third in this week’s rankings.”

Poppet sucks on her bottom lip, instinctually ashamed. “I can do better.”

Madam Karina rushes toward her, bends down so that their faces are even. “What are you talking about? You did wonderfully! How many girls can say they climbed to the top of their class in one week?” Madam Karina lays a hand on Poppet’s knee. “The clients tell me you are the most captivating girl in the house. You have an energy about you, did you know that?”

Poppet smiles, and it makes me want to kick the madam in the spine. She can manipulate me all she wants, but not her. Not Poppet.

“As a matter of fact, if you go downstairs to market, you might find you have a bit more credit than you thought.”

Poppet glances at me, and then back at Madam Karina. “You mean it?”

Madam Karina bolts upright, and her voice booms with cheerfulness. “Go on then. Go and pick yourself out something special. You deserve it.”

Poppet throws a cautious look my way. With the madam’s back still turned, I nod over my shoulder, telling Poppet she should go. I don’t miss the excitement in her eyes as she bounds toward the house. We may be leaving soon, but old habits die hard, and it’s difficult for girls like Poppet and me, who have known real poverty, to turn down an opportunity for something new.

“What do you want?” I ask the madam. No use in pretending I’m not upset. If I soften too easily, she’ll know I’m planning something.

“I should apologize for last night,” the madam says. “But I know that won’t be enough.”

I pass by her and take Poppet’s seat on the swing. Play the part of a fuming child who wants nothing more than for her mother to grovel.

“As you may have guessed, Mr. Hodge and I are working through some things right now. But that doesn’t change the way I feel about you or any of my girls. I just get low sometimes, and when I do, I drink too much.”

“You were drunk last night?” I ask, as if I don’t know this. As if this warrants her abuse.

Madam Karina wraps her arms around her slim frame. “Might be time to admit I’m struggling with it. It’s not okay to medicate ourselves just because we’re feeling down. That’s why the doctor’s going to call on me this afternoon. I might have him see to you as well.”

I don’t understand what she means, until her gaze travels over my face. My nose got busted so thoroughly during the fight with the cop last night that I woke to find two blue-black rings beneath my eyes.

“You went out with Cain last night,” Madam Karina says. It isn’t a question. The porch seems to drop out from under my feet, and I grab onto the bench’s chain, thankful for the support. “I have little spies everywhere.”

She knows where we went. She knows what we found.

I’ll never leave this town.

I wear a mask of indifference while fighting a wave of dizziness. The madam nods toward the empty end of the bench, asking if she can take it. I look away, communicating that I don’t care what she does. When her weight settles in next to me, the entire half of my body that she touches goes numb.

“I know the temptations boys present, but you must trust me when I tell you they bring nothing but trouble.”

I turn and face her, confusion tightening my features.

She raises a hand and strokes the delicate skin beneath my eyes. “But I suppose you learned that the hard way.”

Understanding dawns on me. She thinks Cain and I snuck off to be together last night, and that he inflicted the damage to my face. Relief floods my body, and I find the courage to breathe again. Knowing I need to respond, I say, “I feel like I can’t trust anyone.”

Not entirely a lie.

“Oh, Domino.” Madam Karina slides her arm around my shoulders. “Don’t say such things. You can trust me.”

I touch a hand to my throat. To the place she sent me a message. That’s what it was. She was showing her dominance—like an alpha wolf pinning a pack mate to maintain the hierarchy.

She withdraws her arm and folds her hands in her lap. “I’ve already apologized for what I did to you. And I told you the doctor is calling on me. I’m sick, sweetheart. Can you understand that?”

Ellie’s face springs into my mind. Her bruised face, her busted lip. A figure that must have once been voluptuous and healthy, now shrunken from inadequate meals. She clung to those bars and begged for this woman’s forgiveness. Said she’d work for Madam Karina for however long she wanted, if she’d only let her out.

The woman who’s soothing me with her false words is the same woman who’d throw me away like a used tissue if I upset her enough.

“I understand,” I whisper, fury swirling inside my chest. “But how can you be sure the doctor will make you better?”

Madam Karina reads my question as true concern and replaces her arm around me. “Don’t you worry about that. Not for one second. I will get better. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” She opens her free hand on my thigh, and I stare down at it. Bile rises in my throat as I place my own hand in hers. She squeezes and lays her head on top of mine. We rock in silence as crickets violin their legs and the bench creaks back and forth. My muscles are clenched and my mouth painfully dry when she says in a lullaby voice, “You’re Mama’s sweet girl, aren’t you?”

I clamp my eyes shut and try not to scream. Wilson folds himself around my mind in a protective barrier, growling.

“Yes,” I say. “I am.”





Victoria Scott's books