CHAPTER
THREE
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Ella
"Why can't we just call a driver?" Violet asked as she looked around the cab's interior with a deep frown and a disgusted expression that made her look eerily like her father.
My daughter and I shared similar facial features that made her look a lot like me, except for one thing. She had Ray's dark-green eyes, and when she was angry or didn't like something it made her look like my husband. It gave me the chills every time, but I'd learned to ignore it. Thank God my little girl wasn't cruel and sadistic like he was in any way. She was a sweet and emotional kid, sensitive and sympathetic to others, something Ray had lacked.
Unfortunately, thanks to him, she was also sheltered and spoiled. We'd always taken one of Ray's town cars with one of his drivers when we went anywhere together. I wasn't allowed to drive anywhere with just Violet. Ray always had someone with us. He said it was for our security. I called it what it really was, a babysitter.
"Because there's no driver to call, Violet," I explained as I settled into the backseat next to her, trying not to be annoyed with her.
I told the driver our destination, then looked around and frowned myself. The inside of this cab had seen better days, but we didn't have much choice at this point as the car pulled away from the curb in front of my brother's house. I just hoped I wasn't sitting on anything that could stain the white blouse and gray pencil skirt I was wearing for the interview.
"Why doesn't Uncle Evan have one?" Violet asked.
I huffed out in irritation. "Because normal people don't have drivers," I told her. "They drive themselves or take cabs and buses."
"Then why can't we get our own car?"
Did I mention my daughter loved to ask questions? Usually ones I didn't want to answer.
"Because this one is gross," she added with a grimace of distaste. The cab driver met my gaze in the rear-view mirror with narrowed eyes. I shrugged and gave him an apologetic expression before turning my attention back to Violet.
"Because cars cost money, Violet," I told her quietly, not wanting the driver to hear me. "Money I don't have right now."
"Can't we use Dad's money?"
"Violet," I said irritably. "I've told you before. Dad's money is gone."
I didn't want her to know about the criminal investigation, or the kinds of things the FBI suspected Ray was into. Drugs, prostitution, money laundering, murder, they'd mentioned all of them to me. I didn't have any first-hand knowledge of anything, but I wasn't even surprised. I already knew the kind of man I was married to, but Violet didn't. What was the point of telling her and hurting her? He was dead, and it didn't matter.
Maybe someday when she was older, I would explain it all to her, but not now. She was already in enough pain without having her entire world being flipped on its end and destroyed when she'd already suffered so much in the last few months.
"But why?" she pressed with a perplexed expression.
"It's just gone, damn it," I finally snapped out in exasperation. "Just like him."
My daughter's eyes instantly welled with tears, her lower lip trembling.
Pain lanced instantly through me heart. What had I done? Yup, that's me, mother of the year.
I let out a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, baby," I said waveringly as tears pricked my eyes. I fought them, not wanting to mess up the makeup I'd put on. I reached over to cradle her cheek in my hand. "I'm so sorry."
I pulled her in close as she started to sob softly against my chest, feeling like the world's shittiest parent. Honestly, who took out their frustration on their kid like that? I'd been under so much stress lately that I was surprised I wasn't crying constantly, but it wasn't a good reason for what I just did. It was inexcusable. I held her until she stopped crying a few minutes later. When she sat up again, I reached over and wiped the last few stray tears from her face.
"I really am sorry, baby," I told her in a soft emotional tone, feeling so guilty I wanted to cry.
"It's okay, Mom," Violet said with big sad and understanding eyes. "I know you're just upset because you miss him too."
Her words felt like a kick to the chest as even more guilt panged inside me. The sweet relief I'd felt when I was told that Ray had died in a plane crash still made me feel like a horrible person, even after spending ten years under his cruel and controlling thumb.
"I'm really nervous about this job interview too," I said to change the subject.
"You'll do great, Mom," Violet said with a smile. "You're beautiful and awesome."
Now I was blinking back tears for a different reason. "Thank you, baby," I told her gratefully.
My sweet little girl had already forgiven me and was trying to make me feel better. She was always more worried about other people's feelings than her own. I was awed and humbled by the good person my daughter was becoming more and more every day. I didn't know how I'd somehow managed to counterbalance Ray's selfish influence on her.
"I'll tell them you're the best at everything, and then they'll have to give you the job," she said matter-of-factly, like it was already a foregone conclusion that I'd get it.
"I wish it worked that way, baby. I really do." I put an arm around her and pulled her against my side, then kissed her head firmly. "I love you so much."
"Love you too, Mom," Violet said happily as she snuggled against me with her arm around my waist.
I sighed and held her close, savoring it and wondering how much longer she'd be willing to cuddle with me like this before it wasn't cool anymore. She was growing up so fast, too fast. We sat like that until the cab pulled up at our destination a short while later.
I looked out the window to see we were parked in front of The Indigo Room's club entrance. I could only imagine what it looked like at night, but it was impressive. It was in an old warehouse that had been converted into a nightclub, its intact brick exterior giving it a stark industrial feel that fit the club's modern edge. The bold sign above the door out front was in a black slashing script that was raised up from the brick wall. The place had a cool dark ambiance that was arrestingly seductive. Frankly, I was impressed.
"Here we are," the cab driver announced with a frown, probably wondering why I was taking my ten-year-old daughter into a nightclub even if it was during the day.
"Could you pull around to the back please?" I asked. "I have a job interview in the business office." I don't know why I cared what the guy thought, but the impulse to explain myself was too strong to deny.
"Sure thing, ma'am." He nodded in understanding, then drove around to the back of the building to an unassuming door that said R&C LTD above it. I paid him from the money Evan had given me, trying to ignore the pang of guilt I felt over taking more of my brother's money, then Violet and I climbed out of the cab.
"Alright, kid," I told her as the cab pulled away. "You need to be on your best behavior now. Okay?"
"I know, Mom," Violet replied in a beleaguered tone as she rolled her eyes and swung her purple backpack up onto her shoulder. I made sure she brought some things to occupy her during my interview.
I looked at the door and sighed. "Wish me luck."
"You don't need it," Violet said with certainty. "You got this, Mom."
"I hope so, baby," I replied with a wan smile. "Come on." I forced myself to walk over to the door, then opened it and ushered Violet inside.
The cool air conditioning felt good as we walked in, and when my eyes adjusted to the lower lighting, I saw that we were in a small waiting area with exposed brick walls and polished concrete floors. A low dark microfiber sofa sat against the wall directly in front of us behind a glass coffee table. To the left, there was a small sliding glass window with a woman sitting at a black desk on the other side of the glass. She looked up and smiled as I approached the window, then slid the glass open.
"Can I help you?" she asked politely. She was gorgeous with long thick black hair and large vivid green eyes. Her flawless skin was a warm dusky tone, and I think she was of Indian descent. She was probably in her mid to late thirties, but she could have been older for all I knew. She had a timelessness to her that made it hard to tell.
"My name is Ella Voss," I told her. "I have a job interview today."
She nodded. "Thanks for coming in." She looked questioningly at Violet then met my eyes again.
"I had a scheduling conflict and couldn't arrange for any child care today," I said apologetically. "I hope that's not a problem."
"Of course not," she said as she rose to her feet. "I understand. I'm a mom, and I know these things happen. I'm Gwen, by the way." She looked at Violet. "What's your name, sweetie?"
"I'm Violet," my daughter answered with a friendly smile. "I'm almost twelve."
"Violet," I said warningly.
"Alright, fine," she grumbled out. "I'm almost eleven." She rolled her eyes. "Twelve sounds way cooler, Mom."
For some reason, she'd recently become fascinated with turning twelve and kept telling people she was a year older than her actual age. She was tall enough now to pass for it, I guess. I swear sometimes I didn't understand anything going on in that child's head.
Gwen laughed. "It does, doesn't it?"
"See?" Violet said smugly to me.
I frowned at Violet as Gwen laughed again. I was grateful she had a sense of humor about my crazy kid.
"I'll take you guys on back, and we'll get Violet settled in the break room, then we can start your interview." She stepped away from her desk and left her little office, then emerged at the head of a hallway that led further into the building. "Right this way," she said as she waved us toward her.
We followed her to an open doorway just past her office, and entered a small break room with a kitchenette along the wall to the left. On the right was a small table and chairs.
"Let's put you right here, Violet," Gwen said as she pointed at the table. "Your mom and I will be just down the hall next door in the conference room. Help yourself to the water and soda in the fridge if you're thirsty." She gave me a questioning look as she asked, and I nodded that it was okay.
Violet went straight to the table and sat down. She opened her backpack and pulled out her tablet, which prompted Gwen to give her the Wi-Fi password.
"I'll be back in little bit, baby," I told her reassuringly. "Will you be okay?"
Violet rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'm not a baby, Mom. I think I can handle it." She was already focused on her tablet without a care in the world.
"Are you sure she's not thirteen?" Gwen asked quietly in amusement.
"Some days more like forty" I replied with a grin.
"My son was the same way," Gwen added as I followed her out of the break room. "You never knew what was going to come out of that boy's mouth."
"How old is your son?" I asked her as we walked into the conference room that had frosted glass walls along the hallway. It was decorated in the same industrial style as the rest of the office with a large glass and metal table, and black chairs.
"He's twenty," came her reply. Okay, so she must be in her early forties and older than I thought. "Have a seat," she motioned toward the table as she closed the frosted glass door.
I noticed a pile of file folders sitting at the head of the table, so I took a seat in the chair just to the right of them and set my bag on the chair next to me.
"Do you have your resume?" Gwen asked as she sat at the head of the table.
I nodded and went to pull it out of my bag, dreading this moment and wondering how she'd take the long gape in my work history. I handed it to her reluctantly. I sat there already feeling hopeless and disheartened as she took it and spent a long time looking it over. Movement caught my eye as someone tall walked past the frosted glass and disappeared further down the hall to the right. She was still looking at it when the figure walked past again to the left toward the waiting room a few moments later.
"I see you've worked at quite a few restaurants and a couple of bars, and have a few years of experience," Gwen said, "but that was a long time ago."
"I'm a very hard worker," I said stupidly, like that could make up for the giant hole in my work history. I suddenly felt like this interview was yet another waste of my time.
"I'm not saying you aren't, but I have to ask why you haven't worked in so long." She gave me a questioning yet still kind expression.
During my last few interviews, I got vague about being a stay at home Mom, and not needing to work until now. I didn't want the sad pitying looks that I'd get if I told them I was a broke widow who never accomplished any kind of career. I was afraid of sounding desperate and pathetic, but I swear it ended up making them question my seriousness about the job and my work ethic. I got the sense that they thought I might not be reliable. My gut feeling was just to be brutally honest and see where it got me this time. At this point, what did I have to lose?
"Well, I ended up pregnant and married to Violet's father fairly quickly and at a young age. I...I um..." I looked down at the table uncomfortably. "I...um...I was raising her and I...I wasn't allowed to work." I forced out the words with difficulty. "He...he was a very controlling man."
Shame filled me up. Here I was, a thirty-four-year-old woman with nothing but a high school diploma, no real job skills, and I'd naively let myself become ensnared by a monster. It was all I could do to look back up at Gwen again, but to my complete surprise, there was no pity on her face at all. In fact, she had such genuine sympathy and understanding in her eyes that I was struck speechless.
"It took me nearly fifteen years to get away from my husband," she said in a grim tone. She reached out and placed her hand on mine. "It was the most difficult thing I ever did, but the best thing I ever did for myself."
I looked down again, the shame returning because it took my husband dying for me to get away. I'd been too afraid even to try. Ray was too smart, too ruthless, and had too many connections. If I'd left him while he was still alive, he'd have found me, taken my daughter, and made me pay in ways that I didn't even want to imagine and didn't think I would survive.
"He...he passed away," I whispered, absently noting the same tall figure moving past the frosted glass for a third time, this time back to the right.
"I'd say I was sorry, but I suspect you're not, so neither am I," Gwen said in a fierce tone. "All that matters is that you're free now, right? Be grateful for that, no matter how you came by it. We're the lucky ones." Her voice was wavering now, and her eyes glassy. "We made it out alive."
All I could do was nod and fight back the tears that burned my eyes. Ray my not have been beating on me, but the psychological abuse was just as damaging to me, and in some ways worse.
"Three years ago, my boss took a chance on a woman with a business degree she'd never used and a giant gap in her resume," she said softly. "I think it's about time I paid it forward, don't you?"
"I...I..." I stuttered out, flabbergasted by her words. Was she saying I got the job?
"Before you decide if you'll take the job, why don't I give you a quick tour of the club and see if you think working here would be a good fit for you," she suggested. "How does that sound?"
"Um...uh...that sounds great," I managed to spit out.
She smiled softly in understanding and nodded. "Good." She stood and beckoned me out of my chair. "It won't take long, and Violet can just stay here until we get back."
"Okay," I replied as I followed Gwen out of the conference room, stunned and amazed by the unexpected kindness of this woman I'd never met before. Maybe now things would start going my way, and I could build a new life for myself and my daughter. It was something I never thought I would get the opportunity to try for again. For the first time in a very long time, I actually had hope that I could.