Shelter (Book One): A Mickey Bolitar Novel

I WAS IN THE ALLEY by the same side exit where Candy had led me to safety. The cell phone was against my ear. Rachel and Ema were stalling by slowly filling out job applications, but their excuses were wearing thin.

“Oops, tee-hee,” Rachel said, putting on a breathy bimbo voice. “I spelled my name wrong again. Can I get another form?”

“Sure, sweetcakes,” a rough male voice said. “Why don’t you use a pencil this time? So you can erase.”

“Wow, what a good idea!” Rachel squealed.

“How about you?” the rough voice said.

“No, no, I’m good,” Ema said. “I’ve been able to spell my name since I was twelve.”

Another voice—this one female and older, almost matronly—said, “Okay, forget the forms. It’s time for your audition.”

Now I heard the men in the room snicker. I didn’t like that snicker. I didn’t like it at all. I reached my hand out to open the fire door.

There was no handle, nothing to grab on to. It probably just opened from the inside.

“Yeah,” another guy said. “It’s time to see you girls dance. You go first, Bambi.”

Rachel said, “Me?”

I tried to dig into the sides of the door with my fingers, hoping to pry it open. No go.

“Enough stalling.” This voice was like a gate slamming shut. “Now.”

Oh man.

The older female voice said, “Calm down, Max. Bambi, it’s okay. Really. But I think you should show us how you dance now.”

Ema said, “Uh, it’s getting kinda yellow in here.”

Yellow. The code word.

I wasn’t sure what to do. Sure, we had talked about a code word—but not really what to do if Rachel or Ema actually, uh, said it. I had to get them out, that much was clear, but how? If I called the cops, well, Juan/Antoine had warned me where that might lead. Do I just run through the front entrance myself? Would that work? Wouldn’t that also set Buddy Ray off?

I started prying at the door again. It wouldn’t give.

“Tee-hee,” Rachel started up again, “okay, sure, let’s do the audition. But first I have to go tinkle.”

I stopped. Tinkle?

That was what one of the guys said too: “Tinkle?”

“Tee-hee. Like go to the little girls’ room? Tinkle? You know, silly.”

“Or as our friend Buck says,” Ema added, clearly for my benefit, “we have to go wee-wee.”

“Oh,” a male voice said.

Then another: “The dressing room is over on the left. You might as well change into one of the, um, costumes while you’re there, Bambi.”

“You too, Tawny.”

Tawny and Bambi. How imaginative.

I waited by the door, not sure what to do. I heard some movement and then more commotion. Hopefully they’d find a way to get alone so they could talk to me.

A few seconds later, Ema said, “Mickey?”

“Where are you?” I said.

“In the dressing room,” Ema said. “Which, judging by what I’m seeing, should be called the undressing room. We haven’t seen Candy yet. You still in the car?”

“No.” There was no time to go into detail on my meeting with Antoine/Juan. “I’m outside in the alley by the fire door. Ask one of the girls where it is and then let’s just get out of here.”

“Okay.” I heard conversation. Then Ema came back on. “I think we know how to get . . .” She stopped.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

“Hello?”

Then Ema’s voice came back on the line. “I think I found Candy.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It’s getting too dangerous. You two need to get out.”

“Just hang tight,” Ema said. “Oh, and put the mute back on.”

I wanted to ask more questions, but if she wanted the mute back on, there had to be a good reason. I could hear voices again, but I couldn’t really make anything out. I stood alone in the alley, hopping impatiently from one foot to the other. I tried to think of something to do, but there was really no option here.

I had to wait, no matter how helpless I felt.

Ema wasn’t talking anymore. Rachel wasn’t talking anymore. I could only hear background noises. I didn’t know what to make of that. Suppose something happened. Suppose they couldn’t talk. Was I just supposed to stand here doing nothing for . . . well, for how long? Five minutes? Ten? An hour? I remembered Buddy Ray’s face, the joy he took in hurting me. I thought about the fear in Candy’s eyes when we hurried past the “dungeon.”

How could I have let them go in there on their own?

Time passed. I don’t know how much. It might have been ten minutes, but it was probably more like two or three. And then, just when I thought that I might jump out of my skin from worry, the fire door opened.

It was Ema.

“Get in,” she said quickly.

“What? No. You get out.”

She stepped aside and now I could see Rachel and Candy standing there with her.

“Get in,” Ema said again.

There was no time to argue. Suddenly I was back inside that blue room with the throw pillows. The heavy fire door closed behind me. I glanced at both Ema and Rachel, who signaled that they were fine. I turned to Candy. She looked different now, though I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly had changed. She looked thinner somehow, more drawn, paler. There was a quake running through her face. Her lower lip trembled.

“Where’s Ashley?” I asked her.

Candy shrugged without conviction. “How would I know?”

“Because you e-mailed her,” I said.

Candy looked left, then right. “Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But she did. No question about that now. “You e-mailed her that you were in trouble. That’s why she came back here, right?”

Candy said nothing. The quake in her face got more pronounced. I put my hands on her shoulders and started shaking her. “Tell me where she is.”

Candy started sobbing.

“Where is Ashley?” I demanded, my voice a little louder.

Rachel said, “Mickey . . .”

I looked at her. She shook her head. I nodded. She was right. I was being too rough. Ema moved closer, sort of pushing me away from her. Rachel took Candy in her arms and stroked her hair.

Rachel’s voice was soft and comforting. “You e-mailed Ashley that you were in trouble.”

Candy nodded.

“What kind of trouble?”

Candy just shook her head. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

I felt my heart lurch when she said that.

“I know,” Rachel said gently. “It’s okay. Just tell us what happened.”

“Ashley was my best friend,” Candy said.

Ema glanced at her watch, then at me. I knew what she was thinking. The “boys” would only be patient so long with Rachel’s “tinkle.” We had to speed this up. Ema moved to the door to keep guard.

Rachel said, “You need to tell us what happened, Candy.”

Candy nodded, pulled away. She wiped away her tears with her sleeve. “We always said, Ashley and me, that we would get out of here together. You know? We had plans. We’d run away to California. We’d leave this all behind. It was just a dream. I mean, we both knew Buddy Ray would never let us go. But . . .” She looked up at Rachel, her eyes pleading. “Ashley escaped. Don’t you see? I thought Antoine had gotten her. But she ran away. And she didn’t take me with her.”

“She left you behind,” Rachel said, trying to sound understanding.

“She swore she would never do that,” Candy said, crying again. “He”—now she pointed her chin at me—“he told me that Ashley was fine. That she was in some rich-kid high school. How could Ashley do that to me?”

“So you set her up,” I said.

Her eyes shot hard at me. “I didn’t have any choice. Buddy Ray knew I helped you. He told me if I didn’t help him get her back, he’d kill me.” The tears started flowing again. “How? How could Ashley have just left me like that?”

“She didn’t,” I said, not wanting to go into details about Antoine’s real identity or the Abeona Shelter. “She was taken by surprise. If she contacted you, it would have risked everything.”

“So Ashley didn’t . . . ?”

“She didn’t abandon you, no. Now, if you know where Ashley is . . .”

I looked at Ema. She was still checking outside the door. I turned back to Candy. Her face had fallen.

“There’s no hope,” Candy said.

A cold gust blew across my chest. “What happened?”

“You’re just a bunch of kids. You can’t defeat Buddy Ray. Do you know what he’ll do if he even knows I talked to you?”

Candy quickly rolled up the sleeve of her blouse. We squinted at what she was showing us. It didn’t register at first. Then Rachel gasped out loud.

There were two fresh cigarette burns on Candy’s arm.

“There’s more. That’s all I can show you.”

“Oh my God,” Rachel said.

I felt my stomach do flips. “And he has Ashley? Where are they?”

Candy shook her head.

“Please tell me.”

And then Candy did something that truly chilled me. She slowly lifted her head and looked all the way across the room. I followed her gaze and saw now that Candy was looking at a door.

The door that led to the dungeon.

Suddenly there were voices coming closer. Ema turned and harsh-whispered, “Mickey, hide!”

I didn’t wait. I dived behind some throw pillows just as three men and one woman—the matronly one I’d heard on the phone—turned the corner and entered the room, pushing Ema aside.

“There you are, Bambi,” the woman said. She had a big beehive hairdo and cat-eye glasses. “All set, dear?”

From behind a pillow I tried to flatten myself down into the floor.

“Where have you been?” the man with the rough voice asked.

“Tee-hee,” Rachel said. “I was trying on outfits, silly.”

“Well, then why are you still wearing the same clothes?”

“Ummm, uh, nothing fit.”

I positioned myself behind the pillows in a place where I was able to see. Another man entered the room. He stopped short. “Wow,” he said, taking in Rachel, “you weren’t kidding about her.”

Along with Beehive, there were four men here now. None of them was Buddy Ray. So where was he? I thought about Ashley, about that monogrammed sweater and the pearls and how she was trying so hard to escape from this life. I thought about the way she looked at me, with such hope, and how, right now, she could be behind that door, in the dungeon.

Alone with Buddy Ray.

“Okay, this is perfect anyway,” Beehive said. “We can do the auditions right here, right now.”

“Now?” Rachel said.

“Sure, why not?”

With Beehive taking Rachel’s hand, the four men all dropped onto the throw pillows. The one with a rough voice landed right near where I was hiding. His back was less than two feet from my head. I held my breath, afraid to move.

The guy near me growled, “Candy, what are you doing here?”

“Who, me?” Candy said. “Nothing.”

“Then get out, will ya? And close the door behind you.”

“Yes, Max. Right away.”

Candy hurried out, and per the man’s command, she closed the door behind her.

“Okay, Bambi,” Beehive said. “Let’s get you up on that stage so you can show us what you got.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

Rachel slowly got up onstage. She just stood there.

“Uh, Bambi?”

“I, uh, I usually like some music,” she said.

“We can sing if you want,” Max said, and there was an edge in his voice now. “But I’m getting awfully impatient here.”

I thought about going for my phone, but even that movement would reveal me. I tried to slowly slink off the pillow, move farther away from Max, and then . . .

Then what? What was I going to do?

Ema said, “Can I go tinkle too?”

Max waved an I-don’t-care at her. I wondered what she was up to—leaving Rachel alone—but I figured that she saw what I saw. No hope. She’d get out of the room and call 911. I remembered Juan’s warning about calling the cops, but what else could we do?

I looked at the fire door. I looked at the door to the dungeon.

“Dance!” Max shouted.

And so Rachel started dancing. There was a pole up on the stage. She ignored it. Rachel was a beautiful girl. She was stunning, with the face of an angel and a body that could not only stop traffic but make it back up a little.

But she was a terrible dancer.

She started dancing as though she were the awkward cousin at a bat mitzvah.

Beehive put her hand to her chest and groaned. For a moment the men just stared in something like horror. Then they started calling out:

“What the heck is this?”

“Dance, for crying out loud.”

“Shake it!”

“Use the pole.”

“Wow, that’s pathetic.”

“Wait, are you doing the electric slide?”

I started sliding off the pillow, an inch at a time, when Max stiffened.

“Stop a second,” Max said.

It was as though he sensed me. I moved a little faster, ducking behind the pillow a few yards away. Max slowly turned his head toward me. I was out of sight now, under two pillows. I couldn’t look out. I didn’t even dare breathe.

“What’s the matter, Max?”

“I thought I heard something.”

“What?”

Max got up. He started walking toward my throw pillow. The other guys got up too. They were moving closer to me.

“Okay,” Rachel said, “my top is coming off.”

That got their attention. They turned back to her. I quickly made another dash, behind pillows near the door to the dungeon. All eyes were on Rachel. She started doing a new dance, like some horrible imitation of John Travolta in that old disco movie. Beehive groaned again.

That was when the door to the room burst open. Ema ran into the room. Candy was with her.

“Bitch!” Ema shouted at Rachel. “You stole my boyfriend!”

“No!” Candy screamed. “He was mine!”

And then Rachel, catching on faster than I would have, called back, “You want a piece of me? Come on!”

Ema ran over to Rachel and jumped up onstage. She tackled her. Candy followed, jumping onto the two of them too. They all started screaming and shouting and fighting. For a moment, Max and the others didn’t know what to do. Other girls ran into the room, joining the fray. The fighters rolled onto the floor, right to the fire door, where I had no doubt Rachel and Ema would make their escape.

Ema, you genius!

No one was paying any attention to the pillows anymore. I made my move, staying low and hurrying toward the door to the dungeon. I tried the knob. It turned. I quickly pushed the door open and disappeared into the dark behind it.