W here do you live?” I asked as we drove past gardens and horse trails that wound through a nearly five-acre property.
“In Philly. Downtown.”
“Downtown.. .where?”
“Delancey Place.. .but Mr. Lord owns the house.” “Shit.” I rubbed the side of my face. I’d have to take her back to my hotel.
“I sort of have an apartment off Lindbergh Boulevard.” “Sort of? What do you mean?”
“Mr. Lord took the key from me. I don’t have any way to get inside.”
This Mr. Lord character sounded like a piece of work. I should have broken that bully’s arm or cracked a kneecap to give him a taste of his own medicine. “Can’t someone in the rental office let you in?”
“It closes at five,” she said softly.
“I’m staying at a hotel; you can stay with me until the rental office opens tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay,” she murmured in a broken voice that sounded like a little girl’s.
We rode in silence for the duration of the ride. The events of the night were starting to seem surreal. I’d been hoping to see Fonia again since the last time I’d seen her, and never in my wildest dreams did I imagine her being a part of that S&M club. A million questions raced through my mind. Did Sharif know her? Was she a regular at those S&M events? And what was wrong with her? She had to be a somewhat cuckoo to allow a beat- freak muthafucka to whip her ass like that.
We arrived at my hotel and I helped her out of the truck. I put my arm around her as we walked toward the front door. Despite her shocking, sexually deviant Hfestyle, she still seemed fragile and innocent, and I felt protective toward her.
People gawked at Fonia and me as we entered the hotel. I was bare-chested and slathered with oil. She was barefoot in a wrinkled and dusty evening gown. Her hair was tangled and messy, and her makeup was streaked. We caused a stir as we made our way through the brightly lit lobby. Beyond my line of vision, I heard teeth sucking and derisive murmurs, but I was too focused on getting Fonia to safety to care. I kept an arm around her, holding her close as I guided her toward the elevator.
Frazzled by the stares of curious onlookers, Fonia’s uttered a pitiful whimper and her steps began to falter.
“Fuck those people; let ’em stare,” I growled as I nudged her along.
I ushered her into the elevator and when the doors closed, she fell against me and sobbed. I’d reached the
end of my reserves. Tired and emotionally drained, I didn’t have any comforting words to offer. The best I could do was rub her back and caress her hair. She cried harder and my hand meandered to her shoulder, giving it a consoling squeeze. That squeeze sent a shock of pain through my hand—the results of the knockout blow I’d delivered to that sadistic freak.
On the fifth floor, v/e stepped out of the elevator and I led her to my room. Inside the room, I motioned for her to have a seat on the bed. She sat sort of lopsided.
I was so stressed, I immediately reached for the Scotch on the bedside table and began drinking straight from the bottle.
“Want some of this?” I offered her bottle, but she shook her head and continued sniffling. Another gulp of the mind-numbing liquid and I headed to the bathroom to tend to the scrapes on my knuckles.
Inside the privacy of the bathroom, I searched through my toiletries for something specifically for abrasions, but I couldn’t find so much as a Band-Aid. What had I gotten myself into? Fending for myself had been difficult enough, but now I’d taken on the additional responsibiUty of caring for an emotionally damaged adult.
My initial impression of Fonia was that she was a wholesome, rich girl—someone who had led a sheltered life and didn’t know how to maneuver in an urban environment. But I’d read her wrong. She was much more worldly than I could have ever imagined.
Sharif would be less than thrilled when he found out
how badly I’d bungled the job, and there w^s no way I’d be able to explain my actions. It didn’t matter; I was through with the S&M scene, and no amount of money could lure me back.
Though I planned to drop Fonia off at her apartment tomorrow, I was concerned about her safety. Maybe it would best if she stayed with me for a few days. But on second thought, was I actually qualified to deal with someone with her problems? She had to have some really deep-seated issues to have allowed someone to treat her that way. She needed more than I could provide. She needed a shrink, or a support group at the least.
To clear my head, I took a cold shower, groaning each time the spray of water hit my raw knuckles.
After the shower, I dried off, brushed my teeth, and reentered the room with a towel cinched at my waist. Fonia was curled on the bed with her eyes closed. I put on briefs and sank down on the other side of the bed.
“Is it okay if I take a shower?” she asked timidly.
“Sure, go ahead,” I muttered in an exhausted tone of voice.
She padded to the bathroom and soon the sound of running water lulled me to sleep.
The morning was bright and sunny and I felt bad for Fonia. I was comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt while she had to traipse around in an evening gown. I waited in
the truck while she went to retrieve her key from the rental office.
A few minutes later, she returned to the truck dangling a key. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”
“No, I don’t think so. I have a lot to do today.”
“Please. I feel like I owe you an explanation—”
“You, don’t owe me anything. I don’t want to sound judgmental, you know, regarding your sexual preferences, but you’re playing a dangerous game. Dealing with that sicko could get you killed. You need to cut him loose.”
“He won’t let me. He’s going to come here looking for me, and he’ll force me to go back home.”
“He can’t make you do anything,” I blurted in annoyance.
“Yes, he can.”
The slight tremble in her shoulders told me she was terrified. The fear and hopelessness in her voice broke through my hard exterior. Though I didn’t want to admit it to myself, the fact was I still had feelings for Fonia. And I’d be damned if I’d leave her in a vulnerable position. The thought of that beat-freak raising his hand to her was infuriating.
I cut the engine and got out. We walked in silence to her apartment. Inside, she sat in a chair and I sat across from her on the sofa.
“My relationship with Mr. Lord started when I was eleven.”
My eyebrows shot up and a look of revulsion contorted my face. “Eleven?” I asked incredulously.
She nodded. “My mother was his personal secretary.
From the day she introduced us, Air. Lord began to have a special interest in me. He took charge of my mother’s life and mine. Aloved us into a beautiful townhouse, told us what to wear and how to behave. He wanted us to present as well-bred, proper ladies.”
Apparently, the beat-fi-eak wanted Fonia and her mother to look good on the outside while he was whipping their asses behind closed doors. I couldn’t hold back a sound of disgust.
“Air. Lord never touched me during my adolescence. He only spanked my mother.”
I gave a groan of exasperation. The story was more twisted than I could have imagined. “Where’s your mother? Can’t you move in with her?”
Fonda’s eyes clouded and she shook her head. “No. She’s an alcoholic and only calls me when she wants money. I changed my cell number and she has no way to contact me. And that’s a good thing because it’s going to take a long time before I can forgive her.”
I couldn’t blame Fonia for not wanting to deal with her mother. But my beef was with the sadist. I was itching to punch his lights out, and had to lace my fingers together as a way to quell the rage that was building. Fonia rose from the chair and joined me on the sofa. Sensing my discomfort, she placed a delicate hand over mine.
“I want to tell you everything. Alaybe you’U understand me a little more...maybe you’ll have some compassion for me after you hear the whole story.”
She recounted her ten-year relationship with Harrison Lord, and by the end of the sordid tale, she was sobbing and I was so infuriated, I wanted to beat the crap out of both her mother and the sadist. Fonia had been systematically brainwashed. Her life had been stolen from her.
“I’m not going to let him hurt you,” I promised. “I’ll stay here with you if you’d like.”
“But.. .he’s a powerful man. He’ll have his spies watching us. He’ll figure out our pattern and he’ll come for me after you’ve gone to work.”
“Then I’U take you to work with me,” I said, reluctandy taking on the role of Fonia’s bodyguard. I wanted to suggest that she file a restraining order against her tormentor, but I knew she wouldn’t go through it. She thought Harrison Lord was all-knowing and omnipotent, with the police force and other powers-that-be in his back pocket. Over time. I’d convince her that Harrison Lord was nothing more than a man—a pathetic man—who enjoyed bullying women and defenseless, little girls.
“I hate to be a burden, but can you loan me some money for some toiletries and clothes? All I have is the dress I’m wearing.”
“Sure,” I responded, knowing full well that my finances were in critical condition. I’d have to hustle my ass off tonight at work. I’d never been responsible for anyone other than myself before. Now I had to worry about providing food and clothing for two. I could only pray that I hadn’t bitten off more than I could handle.