Chapter 4
Sneaking Around the Knight
“Okay, read me the next one,” Lucian said as he sat behind his messy desk, reading glasses perched low on his nose, and made notes in his ledger.
Evelyn took a deep breath. “Cllll . . . Clep . . . Cleptone . . .”
“Clapton.”
“Clapton In . . . Indeew . . .” She blew out a frustrated breath.
“Take your time.”
“Clapton Indeew . . .”
“It’s a soft U, like in under or umbrella.”
“Clapton Induss . . . I don’t know it.”
“That’s because you haven’t sounded it out yet. Don’t get frustrated. Take your time. Remember how ies sounds at the end of a word.”
He was so patient with her. She looked at the statement again. “Clapton Indust..ar..ies.”
“Now put it together.”
“Clapton Indust-ar-ies . . . Clapton Industries!”
“Very good!” His eyes creased softly at the sides as he gave her a praising smile.
She grinned proudly from the club chair pulled close to his disordered desk. Lucian was a perfectionist and neat in everything except the way he kept his workstation.
This had become part of their Sunday morning routine. Lucian would order breakfast, they’d eat, she’d change into one of his shirts from the week that still carried his scent before the cleaners could wash it away, and she’d read through a stack of invoices as he recorded the names in his ledger. It was a task that would probably take less than ten minutes for him to do on his own, but it was good practice for her. She had come a long way from the illiterate girl she was when they met last fall.
He added the name into the ledger and placed his pen in the crease of the binding. It took Evelyn a while to realize most people did their bookkeeping on computers. Lucian told her he preferred the feel of the pen between his fingers and the appeal of the leather-bound ledger. She liked seeing him like this.
Stretching, Lucian let out a wide yawn that ended with a manly, animalistic-growl-type howl. “Let’s do the rest later. Why don’t you take a break? I have to make a few phone calls.”
Evelyn left the invoices on the chair and stretched as well. There was no use putting the organized stack of paper on his desk. That thing was like a black hole.
As she snuggled onto the sofa and mindlessly hit buttons on the remote, she considered how much her life had changed from the endless struggle to survive it once was. Here she sat, toes warm in a thick pair of wool socks, fire burning in a glass insert ten feet away, television at her disposal, and a bracelet worth God only knew how much weighing down her wrist. It was bizarre.
She came across some Sunday morning cartoons and put the remote aside. Adult programs bored her, although she did enjoy the Gilligan’s Island reruns. Having never gone to school or lived in a real house, she simply couldn’t relate to the shows women her age usually liked. Once she watched a court show where two friends fought over a pedigreed dog, and she wanted to reach through the screen and strangle them both. Some people just didn’t know what real problems were.
Lucian spoke softly in the background, his velvety voice mingling with the pings and whizzes coming from the television, accompanied by her occasional giggle. A scraggly character showed up and her mind wandered to faces from her past, one in particular.
No matter how she tried to forget about Parker, she couldn’t let him go. He’d hurt her the last time they spoke. His disapproval held more weight in her conscience than she was comfortable admitting. He basically accused her of being someone seduced by money. Of course he didn’t know how deeply she had grown to care for Lucian at the time he made his accusation, but there was no excuse. His words hurt. They weren’t true, but it took her a long time to convince her bruised pride of that.
Lucian tried convincing her that Parker only said those hurtful things because he was in love with her and jealous, but that wasn’t true either. She and Parker had known each other for almost ten years. He’d come to the tracks when she was just a girl, probably around ten or twelve. Evelyn never knew when her real birthday was, so keeping track of her age was always a challenge. She assumed her age to be closer to twelve because she recalled that was the year she had just started to develop and get hair where she had none before.
He was fourteen, a couple of years older than her. He didn’t look like he belonged on the streets. Parker had papers that certified his age and other important information, which he carried with him at all times. She had nothing like that. According to the government, she didn’t really exist. Lucian was working on obtaining legal documents for her, but it was difficult when there was no record of her existence.
There had always been something about Parker that said he’d been on the other side, known what it was like. He’d somehow known money well enough to hold disdain for wealth. He could read heavy hardcover books and loved to. He was cultured in a way only educated people were. There was a lot to envy about him.
Evelyn decided at an early age she would not become like the rest of the John and Jane Does out there. It had been her life’s objective to get a job and get off the streets. That was how she met Lucian. To those that knew her plight, it was easy to see how some might mistake her as a gold digger. But she and Lucian and those they trusted most knew the truth of it. Evelyn felt entitled to nothing of his wealth and had no interest in it. She only had a desire for earning her own money, not taking someone else’s.
Although she gave up her job as a maid at Patras, that didn’t mean she was turning into a kept woman. She had worked into the New Year, but her appearance in a service uniform began raising eyebrows when people recognized her as the woman on Lucian’s arm who’d been wearing an evening gown the night before. It was sort of weird working for, and sleeping with, the owner of the hotel. And there was no way she was giving up Lucian. So she gave up her job. Lucian was ecstatic, but she needed to start looking for a new one.
Lucian preferred her not to work, and while there was no immediate need for money, she’d been without her own income for almost a month, and that was enough. Income meant personal security. It was time for her to find new employment. She dreaded that discussion.
Her gaze drifted to Lucian. He was sitting at his desk, speaking softly into the phone. His reading glasses hung low on his nose, and he needed a shave. No one else saw him this way, vulnerable, relaxed. Heat spread in her chest. He was hers.
As she turned back to the television, her mind returned to Parker. Unlike Lucian’s strong presence Parker was . . . less intimidating. He was thinner, due to the difference in their lifestyles. Sometimes Parker had facial hair, usually in the colder months, but when he shaved, his skin still had a youthful glow Lucian’s lacked. Lucian was a man. Evelyn still saw Parker as a boy only slightly older than herself.
Shortly after she and Parker met, he had come to her rescue. She could still recall the shock of seeing him attack Slim, a disgusting pervert who lived at the tracks. Slim had come into the abandoned mill she and her mother occupied. Pearl had gotten in the habit of trading herself for drugs, mostly heroin. One day Slim came by and Pearl wasn’t there.
He entered what Scout considered their private space and seemed reluctant to leave. Scout wasn’t ignorant about certain things, even at her young age, but she was taken off guard when Slim touched her. No one touched her in those places. She’d pushed his grubby hand away, repulsed by how filthy his fingers were, but he only pushed back. Instinctively, when his grip on her thigh tightened, she screamed and Parker came running.
She’d been so confused and upset she began to cry, something she never allowed herself to do in front of others at the tracks. After dealing with Slim, Parker held her and promised her she would be all right. He had become a force of his own to reckon with, shocking her with how lethal he could become when pushed. Nothing made sense that day. Parker somehow crossed into her personal space the way no one else on the streets ever could.
It wasn’t until after the fact that she realized they were friends. On the streets she was known as Scout because she was excellent at scouting out good finds. She knew the underbelly of Folsom like the back of her hand. She was a survivor, determined to get out and make a real life for her and Pearl. Scout didn’t have friends. Caring for those on the streets would only hold her to that unfavorable part of her existence. But Parker had become one.
A cold chill ran through her as she wondered where he was now. He was smart, smarter than the rest of them. It was Parker who taught her the basics of reading, giving her enough knowledge to land a halfway decent job. Television was unavailable where they were from, but the Folsom library was a public place. Parker spent most of his days entertaining himself with books. He sometimes took her with him. Those days were her favorites.
They’d curl up on the braided rug in the children’s section and he’d guide her through children’s classics. The first book she ever read a page from was Green Eggs and Ham. She was around eighteen, and it was probably one of the proudest moments of her life. She could only read very small words. Having Parker read to her was much more enjoyable than struggling to hear herself clumsily piece together letters.
Growing up within and never leaving a ten-mile radius, books opened a world of imagination for her. She saw things in her mind she could only dream of ever seeing in real life, the ocean, Egypt, the Big Top, all described in such thought-out detail she could taste the cotton candy and breathe the salt air without ever leaving that magical braided carpet.
He made it a goal to read her as many classics as possible, The Catcher in the Rye, The Color Purple, Of Mice and Men. She couldn’t get enough. Scout became obsessed with words. Even if she couldn’t read big words, there was no stopping her from saying them. She clung to every syllable he spoke, like a thief.
Then there were the more mysterious sides of Parker. When a person is homeless, there is little entertainment, so in the fall they enjoyed watching the little league practice and play games. The T-Ball players were the cutest. She and Parker made a habit out of finding entertainment that was free.
One day she’d gone looking for Parker so they could find something to do together. He had a few places he hid out when he wasn’t at the library. She ended up finding him in an alley, where she heard noises. When she peeked into the shadows, she wasn’t prepared for what she saw. Parker was doing to another woman what Slim had wanted to do to Scout. However, this woman seemed on board with his plans.
Scout gasped, and Parker immediately turned and cursed. The woman gave Scout a nasty look that haunted her for days. She now was old enough to know that Parker was having sex. That afternoon, a world of mixed emotions opened up inside of her over the span of a minute. She supposed she’d always looked up to Parker in a way, found him admirable. She wasn’t jealous of the woman. Sex scared Scout and she wanted nothing to do with it. Yet, there came a twinge of something she couldn’t name when she realized Parker was doing it with that woman.
He chased after her, completely discarding the other woman. When he caught up to her, he grabbed her arm.
“Scout, what are you doing here?”
“I . . . I was looking for you.”
His face was creased with frustration, and his cheeks were flushed. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
His words irritated her. She jerked her arm away. “I’m not a child, Parker. I know what you were doing.”
“I know you’re not a child. I just . . . I didn’t want you to see that.”
“Why?” She was truly curious about his reasons.
He frowned and wedged his hands in his pocket. Looking away, he mumbled, “It’s dirty.”
She frowned as well. “You aren’t the only person who does that, Parker.”
“I know. But I don’t like it.”
“Then why do you do it?”
He shrugged. “Guys are different. We need . . .”
She waited quietly for him to continue. His cheeks grew redder and he said nothing. She touched his arm. “It’s okay, Park. I get it.”
He shook his head and curved his lips into a barely there smile. “No, you don’t, but thanks for trying.”
Her hand dropped from his arm. “Thanks.” She was insulted. “You know, you aren’t much older than me—”
“I know that! God, Scout, I know that.”
“Then why do you say things like that, like I’m some dumb kid?”
“Because you’re a good girl and a good girl shouldn’t see two people going at it like animals!” he hissed.
She drew back. Her understanding of sex was twisted. She’d seen her mother and other men. There was no modesty. She saw things no child should probably witness. She only needed to see it once to determine she never needed to see it again. But to her knowledge, there was no way to have sex that wasn’t animalistic.
After they stood awkwardly silent for a while and the woman he had been with slunk away, he said, “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”
They walked in silence, she playing back what she’d seen, and Parker scowling about what he had inadvertently showed her. One thing she was sure of, he did not see her as a sexual being, but as more of a little sister. This pleased and irritated her for reasons she didn’t understand.
Evelyn smiled, remembering how, after that, he made a point to read adult stories to her. They were never graphic, but sometimes they mentioned some of those less animalistic couplings he must have been referring to. He would sometimes blush when he read her the more adult parts of those classics.
That day at the alley was never mentioned again, but from then on, on those days he would sometimes disappear, she’d smirk and avoid his eyes upon his return, knowing exactly where he’d been and what he’d been doing.
Parker had definitely been her friend, the only one she ever had before Lucian.
Her present-day mind jumped to visions of her and Lucian. They could be quite animalistic, yet she loved being with him in that way. She preferred him intense and raw and holding nothing back. When he acted as such, she seemed to break out of her rigid skin and surrender, allowing him to guide her somewhere dark and freeing where only the two of them existed.
“What are you grinning about?”
At Lucian’s question, Evelyn’s mind snapped back to the present. Her lips trembled and fell into a more natural smile.
“I was just thinking about how much my life has changed.” There was no point in mentioning Parker. Lucian didn’t care for him and never seemed to regret the day Parker insulted her, as it conveniently removed him from her life.
She hoped he was someplace warm. Maybe he was curled up by the library radiators at that very moment, reading some spectacular tale. She told herself that was likely where he was, needing the comfort of believing him safe.
“Jamie called. You didn’t tell me you saw him yesterday. He wants us to join him downtown for dinner.”
Evelyn never minded spending time with Jamie. It was Slade, Lucian’s other colleague, she hated. The feeling was mutual. Luckily, since she and Lucian settled into a more serious arrangement, Slade rarely came around. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him.
“Dinner with Jamie sounds great.”
***
By Thursday, Evelyn still couldn’t shake her thoughts of Parker. The more she thought about him the more she worried something was wrong, as though an unknown force was putting him into her mind on purpose. Lucian had long ago forbidden her to visit the part of the city where the shelter was, because he considered it too dangerous. She’d tried to sneak back a few times, only to be followed. Each attempt ended in a fight she had no interest in repeating.
Lucian had a lot on his mind lately, probably some big business deal. She didn’t want to cause a rift or bring him more stress by mentioning Parker or asking to visit St. Christopher’s.
She knew the only way she could get to that part of Folsom was through sheer creativity and pretended innocence. The problem was, Lucian loathed any hint of dishonesty between them. She’d have to figure out a way to check on Parker while being honest and casually forgetting to divulge her true intensions. There was a run-down strip mall between St. Christopher’s and the Folsom Library, and that was how her plan took shape.
“Do you think Dugan can take me to a craft store tomorrow?”
Lucian looked up from the checkered onyx, considering his next move. Chess was a way they often ended their evenings. She’d become quite good at the game. He lifted his knight and captured her bishop.
Bastard.
She scowled at the board. She didn’t want to sacrifice her queen.
“What do you need there?” Lucian asked as she contemplated a very stupid move she would likely make in order to save the old girl.
“I was thinking about getting some wire and stuff. Maybe I can make something out of the sea glass I bought.”
“Like a sculpture.”
She smiled, knowing it took everything he had not to tease her. “No, not like a sculpture. Maybe a necklace or something.”
“I’m not sure if I know where a store with that sort of stuff is in the city.”
“There’s one by the library.”
He eyed her curiously for a long moment, and she hoped he didn’t see through her request. She took great interest in moving her rook to a square that made no sense.
He pursed his lips, eyeing her, as he captured the rook with a pawn. “Are you sure wire is all that you’re looking for?”
She swallowed and forced herself not to give anything away. Looking down at the board she picked up a pawn without thinking and slid it forward. “Maybe some tools to work with too.”
When she returned her gaze to his face he was still watching her. Without breaking eye contact, he captured the pawn she just moved. “Think about your actions, Evelyn. Hasty moves will get you into trouble.”
He was referring to the game, but the knot in her stomach told her he might be commenting on more than that. He could read her like one of those books she longed to devour from start to finish. She looked down and frowned over her new predicament. “You’ve won.” She moved her bishop anyway, knowing it was only a matter of two or three moves before he had her in check without an escape.
He slid his bishop forward, knocking out her most powerful piece and doing exactly that. “I always get my queen. Check.”
***
Evelyn shifted nervously as they headed into the more unsavory parts of Folsom. Not being honest with Lucian didn’t sit right with her, but she had become wholly convinced that something was wrong. She just needed to find Parker and see that everything was okay, and then everything could go back to normal.
They were heading to the craft store by the library, so she hadn’t lied, per se. Still, guilt chafed her insides. Lucian was a stickler about honesty, stating it was a fundamental ingredient to trust. She agreed with him, which made her feel like complete crap. But in this situation, her confirmation that Parker was fine would ease her mind. She didn’t see the need for drama and justifying her actions when all she was searching for was a little piece of mind, especially when Lucian was already stressing over issues outside of their relationship.
Lucian always sent Dugan with more than enough money for anything she needed, but he also left an obscene amount of cash in her top drawer for things around the hotel. She rarely touched that money. It wasn’t hers and she didn’t think she would ever see it any other way. However, today she secretly skimmed two hundred dollars off the top in case she did find Parker and he needed it. As soon as she found a new job she would replace the money she took if that were the case.
Her stomach twisted as old familiar places came into view. It was a distasteful form of nostalgia. This part of Folsom lacked the hustle and bustle flowing around Patras. No one walked around these parts unless it was all they ever knew or if they were hoping to score a hit. She glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Dugan scowling over the wheel.
“Thanks for driving me, Big D.”
He grunted. “Perhaps next time you need art supplies you could shop online or at the craft outlet by Mr. Patras’s permanent residence.”
Yeah, that would probably make more sense. “This one has the things I’m looking for. I should only be a few minutes.”
She was swallowing more than usual, and a touch of carsickness had her shutting her eyes. Being deceptive sucked.
As they neared the library, Evelyn perked up. Dugan was watching her and she grew paranoid that he suspected her motive for coming to that section of the city, but she came all this way to find Parker, and even Dugan’s surly glances wouldn’t stop her from trying. It would be stupid to come here and be too chicken to actually look. Besides, she could be looking for anything.
Her eyes scoured the alleyways and sidewalks, greedily searching for any flash of life. March was cold and wet, so there wasn’t much more than litter traveling by. A sense of regret filled her as the limo passed the library with no sign of Parker.
They pulled into the strip mall and Dugan parked. There weren’t a lot of shoppers. He came to her door and escorted her to the craft shop. The chirp of the limo’s alarm engaging echoed like a lost crow in a desolate field.
Dugan was like a shadow, bigger than her, always there, always silent. She distractedly filled her basket with materials she hadn’t the slightest idea how to use. She’d made the trip. She might as well get what she told Lucian she needed. Dugan eyed the merchandise quietly.
She turned when he cleared his throat. He held a packaged tool in his hand that looked like a drill.
“It’s a solder gun,” he explained. “If you’re going to be making something with wire you probably want one to secure the ends.”
She smiled at him. Dugan didn’t say much, but he also didn’t miss much. It was lonely sometimes, what with how often Lucian was pulled away on business. She liked to think that Dugan liked her. Moments like this made her believe he did.
She held out her basket. “Thanks, Big D. Put her here.”
He dropped the gun in her basket. “You’ll probably want gloves too. Wires have a way of beating up your fingers. Little girlie hands like yours . . .” his words faded off as his gaze darted back to the shelf. He cleared his throat.
Big softy.
They loaded her basket with so many things, Dugan eventually offered to carry it. She was distracted when they passed the poster section and she spotted black-and-white prints of the city. She flipped through the matted prints. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. Patras. The hotel stood like a god among kings.
“Does Lucian have this photograph?” she asked Dugan.
“I don’t usually take notice of what’s on Mr. Patras’s walls.”
“Well, I think he’d like it, don’t you?”
“I think he would enjoy anything you chose for him, Ms. Keats.”
“Seriously, Dugan, call me Evelyn or Scout. No one even calls my mom Ms. Keats. It’s weird, especially considering how much time we spend together.”
“Very well, Ms. Evelyn.”
Her lips pursed. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to express what she thought about his compromise, but she let it go. “I’m gonna get it for him.”
They visited the framing department, and Evelyn selected a cherry frame that reminded her of the wood of Lucian’s desk in the condo. An employee placed the photograph within a sheet of dark red matting.
“Would you like to inscribe anything on the placard?” the clerk asked. “We have a machine that does it, so it only takes a few minutes.”
“Okay.” She hadn’t thought about actually having the little bronze label engraved, but she liked the idea.
The clerk slid a scrap of paper over the counter. “Here, write what you want it to say there. Make sure you write it exactly as you want it to appear as far as capital letters and all.” He turned to ready the machine.
Evelyn swallowed and stared down at the blank scrap of paper. It was incredibly intimidating. Her hand slowly reached for the pencil, her fingers tightly wrapping around the six-sided piece of wood.
Fuck.
Breathing in, she pulled the paper close and poised the pencil at the edge. The tip snapped and she realized she was pressing too hard. “Um, can I have another pencil?”
“Sure.” The clerk slid another across the counter.
She knew she could ask Dugan to write something down for her, but she wanted it to be from her. She wanted to say something poetic and special, but she only knew how to spell small words.
Her fingers slid over the smooth wood of the pencil as her palms began to sweat. She wiped them on her jeans, cleared her throat, and leaned closer. Her mind played over the words she knew how to spell until she finally thought of the perfect word.
Carefully her fingers pressed down as the soft lead glided over the paper, one straight line, then another. She connected them. H. Next she formed a circle. O. Licking her lips, she turned the paper and began making the next set of strokes. M. Finally, she turned the paper again and made four neat lines. E. HOME.
She placed the pencil down with a shaking hand, and Dugan leaned over her shoulder, observing the word she chose. “What do you think?”
He smiled at her, a rare expression on his serious face. “I think it’s perfect, Ms. Evelyn.”
She slid it to the clerk.
As they returned to the limo, that same sense of hopelessness filled her. As Dugan pulled away from the dilapidated strip mall, it transcended into a physical ache. She’d come all this way and discovered nothing. The discouraging ache bloomed into panic as they eased out of that part of the city.
“Dugan!”
The limo slowed immediately. She hadn’t meant to shout. “Ms. Keats?”
“Can we stop at the library? I think I want to get some art books.”
His eyes narrowed, but the car turned, heading back in that direction. As he parked he didn’t immediately get out like he usually did. “We will have to be heading back soon. Mr. Patras made reservations for the two of you.”
“I’ll be quick.”
The moment they made it into the old library, her eyes combed the aisles. She deliberately headed toward the literature department, where Parker found most of the classics he enjoyed. Passing the children’s section, she paused, letting her memories comfort her. Only then did she realize how much she truly missed her friend. She didn’t expect the familiar smell of paper and books to hit her as hard as it did, bringing with it a sentimental twinge.
“I believe the art section is this way, Ms. Keats.”
Already he was back to the formal title. Reluctantly, looking one last time for her friend, she followed Dugan. She selected four books, one on jewelry making, one on wire sculpture, one on metal work, and one on architecture she thought Lucian would enjoy. She made sure to get books with lots of pictures.
She had never actually taken a book out of the library so she needed to give the woman at the counter her information in order to get a card. It was the first time she ever told someone her address and hadn’t needed to lie.
Before they left she looked back at the quiet library one last time. Parker was nowhere to be found and this was likely the one place he would be. The shelter wasn’t open until nightfall.
Sighing, she returned to the limo. The ride home was made in deep thought, one resounding hope playing through her head. Please be okay.