Authors: Jean Stone
“TRENTON, PHILADELPHIA, WA-A-A-ASHINGTON D.C.,” a booming voice echoed throughout the large hall. “Now boarding, Gate Eight. All aboard!”
A flurry of people swept past her, pressing against her, pushing at her from all directions.
“Metroliner service for NEWARK, EAST ORANGE, PASSA-A-A-AIC,” the voice droned on. “Now boarding, Gate Ten.”
More people crushed her. She clutched her hands to her temples. Searing pain gripped her head. She wanted to run. To get out. To run somewhere, anywhere. Get out of this damp, noisy terminal. Get away from this baby moving inside her. Get away from her father, get away from herself. She turned and saw stairs. She ran up them and out onto Forty-second Street. Horns honked. Cars ground gears. Windshield wipers screeched. The clatter of people’s feet became magnified. Her sobs were drowned by the beating rain.
“Help me!” she wanted to cry out. But no one even looked at her. No one noticed her pain. She staggered up the incline of the street and tripped on a subway grate. Steam poured up from below. “Someone help me!” she wanted to scream. “Someone help me,” she whimpered.
She noticed a policeman across the street. If only she could get to him. If only she could talk to him. He would help her. He would help her. She walked up to Broadway to cross at the light. She kept her eyes fixed on the cop. He will help me, she thought. He will help me. Just as the
light said
WALK
, she saw an elderly couple approach the policeman. They stopped to talk. Jess hesitated. She turned back. What a fool she was! The man couldn’t help her. No one could. No one could. She half walked, half ran back to the terminal. Her ankle buckled. She stumbled into the gutter, and a puddle of black wetness splashed up on her. She looked down at the dark, runny stains on her legs. No one could help her here. She zigzagged to the doorway and fell against the brass-and-glass entrance. Larchwood was the only place she could go. Larchwood was all that was left for her.
Ginny
The hardest part had been getting P.J. to give her a bobby pin. Glamour girl kept saying “Let me do your hair for you, Ginny. You really shouldn’t be teasing it so much anymore.” As if all anyone in the world had to think about was hair.
Just give me the goddamn bobby pin and leave me alone
, Ginny had wanted to say, but didn’t want to raise P.J.’s suspicions. So instead she’d smiled and said, “I could never look as good as you,” and the beauty queen had sucked it up. God, what a great actress she was going to be!
Ginny quickly jiggled the pin in the lock now. It clicked open without resistance. She stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind her. She looked around Jess’s room. Christ, it was so neat, it looked as if nobody lived there. Ginny spotted a picture on the bureau. An older woman, must be the kid’s mother. The frame was probably sterling silver, but better not chance it. Jess would most likely miss that right away.
She went to the bureau and opened the jewelry box. A little dancing ballerina popped up and began twirling to some stupid song. Christ! She slammed the lid. Leave it to the princess to have a fucking music box for her jewelry. Ginny slowly opened the lid partway and stuck a finger inside to squelch the ballerina’s performance. She fished
inside, moving bangle bracelets and long chains out of the way. Her finger hooked on to something. She slid it out. It was a ring. The emerald one, with diamonds on either side, the one Jess always wore. Score! It must be real, Ginny thought. The kid’s so rich, she’d never have anything fake. Would she miss it? Chances are if she wasn’t wearing it now, it would be a while before she knew it was gone. Great. This would be enough for now. This and the hundred she’d slipped from Jess’s wallet while Jess was sewing in the Hineses’ apartment yesterday. It was a start. And Ginny still had four months. Better not take anything else right now. Better do it slowly. There was plenty of time. Then, by the time she was out of here, she’d have enough to get her mother the hell away, and they’d be off to Hollywood.
She tucked the ring into her palm and went toward the door.
“P.J., run down and get me some more cleanser from Mrs. Hines, would you?” It was Susan’s voice. Shit. She must be cleaning the bathroom, and P.J. must be in the hall.
“I’ve got some right here.” Christ. It was old bleach head. She must have huffed up the stairs for who knows what purpose.
Ginny stood inside Jess’s room, praying the voices would disappear. Not that she’d get caught. She’d overheard Jess tell Pop she’d be back on the seven-thirty train, and now it was only four o’clock.
“I bought you girls some nice new towels today,” old bleach head kept rattling.
“Oh, thanks, those are swell.” P.J.’s voice.
“And here’s the cleanser. I thought you might be running low.”
“Thanks, Miss Taylor.” Susan.
Christ, why didn’t everybody get out of there?
Ginny heard the shuffle of the old lady’s feet as they went back down the stairs.
“It stopped raining. I’m going for a walk,” P.J. said. “Catch ya later.”
“I’ll join you when I’m done in here,” Susan replied.
Ginny waited to hear P.J.’s footsteps on the stairs. There was silence. She listened closely at the door. She heard the toilet flush. She opened the door and peeked out. No one was in the hall. Ginny closed the door and walked into the hall. She had taken no more than four steps when someone rounded the top of the stairs and headed toward her. Jess.
“Jess!” Ginny exclaimed a little louder than she wished she had. She felt the ring slip in her hand. She quickly stuffed it into her pocket before it fell on the floor. Think fast, asshole, Ginny said to herself. Then she looked at Jess and realized it didn’t matter. The kid was obviously preoccupied.
“Oh, hi, Ginny,” she said as she brushed past her toward her door. She stuck the key into the lock and wiggled it. “Damn!” she said. Ginny didn’t know Jess knew any four-letter words. “This stupid door …” The door swung open. Jess hadn’t even realized it wasn’t locked.
“You okay?” Ginny asked. Being friendly would throw suspicion off her.
“Yes.” Jess turned back to Ginny.
Christ, her eyes were all red and swollen. She’d been crying again. So what else was new?
“No,” Jess whimpered. “No, I’m not okay. Could you come in and talk to me?”
Me? The princess has a problem and wants to talk to me? Better do it. If you’re on her good side, she’ll never suspect
.
“Sure. What’s up?” Ginny went into the room and nervously glanced around. Had she moved anything? Was everything still in place?
“Oh, Ginny, I don’t know what to do.” Jess sat on the bed.
Good, Ginny thought. She’s not suspecting a thing. “What about?”
“My father.” She sounded too weary to cry. “He paid off Richard’s family.”
“Hey, no shit.”
“That’s why Richard hasn’t tried to get in touch with
me. They’re gone. They took my father’s money and vanished.”
“So?” What Ginny really wanted to ask was why that was such a big deal. “So he turned out to be a creep. Typical male.”
“But now Father is all I’ve got. All I had. And he doesn’t want to talk to me. Now there’s nobody.” She wiped a hand across her brow.
“Take it from me, you’re better off.” Ginny stood by the door, not wanting to spend too much time in there.
“No, Ginny, it’s not right to be alone.”
“Christ, what do you care? You got plenty of money, don’t you? Your old man supports you, so what difference does it make?”
Jess stood up and went to the bureau. Ginny’s heart began to pound. She watched her unclasp her watch. God, no. Don’t do it. Jess opened the jewelry box. The little ballerina twirled. The music tinkled. Jess frowned as she looked inside. She took off her watch and laid it across the top shelf. She pushed around a few of the pieces. “You don’t understand, Ginny. You have a family.” Ginny tried not to scream as she watched the girl slowly rifling through the jewelry, a puzzled look on her face. “My mother was the only one who ever cared about me. And she’s dead.”
Ginny stared as Jess halfheartedly kept moving the pieces around. Christ, bad enough she was still grounded. If she got caught with the ring, Ginny knew she’d be thrown out for sure.
“Oh. What did I do with my ring?” Jess whimpered.
Ginny’s guts felt as if they were going to explode.
Shit. Got to change the subject
. “Tell me about your father.”
Jess sighed. “Oh, darn, I’ll look for it later,” she muttered, then closed the lid on the box. The music ended. The ballerina stopped dancing. Ginny breathed again.
Jess went back to her bed and sat down. “There’s not much to tell,” she said. “I don’t feel like I really know him. But I have to admit, his paying off Richard’s family doesn’t exactly surprise me.”
And I don’t really give a shit anyway, Ginny wanted to say, but instead she sat in the desk chair and feigned interest. As she sat, the ring dug into her thigh. She quickly put her hand over it to hide the lump.
“Men are assholes,” she said.
“Fathers aren’t supposed to be.”
“Ha! You’ve never met my stepfather.”
“What’s he like?” Jess asked.
Time to leave. “Look, Jess,” she said. “I’m real sorry about you and your father, and about Richard and everything. But the fact is, I don’t feel too well right now. Maybe it’s morning sickness or something.”
“Ginny! No one gets morning sickness when they’re five months pregnant! Besides, didn’t you say you haven’t been sick at all?”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m just a late bloomer. Or maybe it’s the smell of lemon oil in here. Christ, is that all you do, clean your room? I gotta go lie down.”
“Well, okay. Thanks for talking, anyway.”
“Sure, kid. Anytime.” Ginny stood up and got the hell out of there as fast as she could.
It wasn’t until after she was safely in her own room that Ginny relaxed. Christ, that was close. Better be more careful next time. She took the ring from her pocket and looked at it closely. Wow. It was huge. Must be worth a bundle. Maybe she should just take off now. The ring would get her enough money to get her mother and get out to L.A. But shit. What about this stupid baby? Anyway, with her luck, that asshole sheriff would be hot on her tail. Might as well stick it out here. She’d just have to be more careful. Ginny hid the ring in an empty pack of cigarettes next to the hundred dollars and the twenty-dollar bill she’d plucked off the kitchen counter the other night.
Suddenly there was a knock on her door. Ginny jumped and tossed the cigarette pack under her bed. “What?” she barked.
“Ginny, it’s me, Jess. Could I see you a minute?”
Oh, fuck. The kid had figured out about the ring. No.
It wasn’t possible. Cool. Play it cool, Ginny. “Sure, kid,” Ginny said, and got up and unlocked the door.
Jess stepped past her into the room. She still looked pretty shook up. It was either because of her father or the ring. Shit.
“Could you close the door?” Jess asked. “I need to ask you something.”
Ginny closed the door and kept her back to Jess. Shit. Think fast, asshole. What are you going to tell her? Deny it. That’s all. This rich bitch has no proof. Shit. Maybe glamour girl told her about the bobby pin, and Jess figured out the rest. Cocksucker. No, she had to deny it. For Chrissake, she was an
actress
. She could pull it off. Just look at Jess like
she
was the asshole and say, “What are you, fucking crazy? Why the hell would I want your ring?” That’s all. Just deny it. Ginny turned and leaned against the door. She watched as Jess wrung her hands together.
“So what d’ya want to ask me?” Ginny held her chin up and looked squarely into Jess’s eyes.
“I was wondering if you—” Jess paused, and Ginny felt sure her heart missed a beat. “… if you—” she paused again, then continued—“had anything left in that bottle of whiskey.”
A quarter of a pint later Ginny finally got Jess to go back to her own room. Man, that was one emergency she hadn’t expected the booze would save her from. She’d listened to Jess talk about Richard, about her mother, then bore her with stories about her rich father and how he didn’t give a shit about her. But it was worth it. Now Jess thought Ginny was her friend, and she’d never suspect a friend of stealing from her. This could only work to Ginny’s cashflow advantage in the long run.
Renewed by her success, Ginny decided to call her mother. She glanced at her watch. It should be safe; the asshole shouldn’t be home from work yet. She went downstairs and was happy to see Miss Taylor’s office—the
library
, as the snotty rich bitches called it—was empty.
She picked up the receiver and dialed the operator,
then logged in the number on the pad beside the phone. When the bill came in, each girl had to pay her own long-distance calls. Piece of cake, Ginny thought. I’m going to be loaded.
“Hull-o.” Her mother’s voice was slurred. What did Ginny expect when she called so late in the day?
“Mom. Hi, it’s me.”
“Ginny?”
“Yes, Mom.” You don’t have any other kids who call you Mom, do you?
“Ginny?” her mother repeated.
“Yes, Mom. How are you?”
“Oh, dear,” her mother sighed. “I’m fine.” Ginny heard the resignation in her mother’s voice.
“It won’t be long, Mom. Only a few more months. Just hang in for a few more months, then I’m taking you out of there.”
“What?” Her mother was vague. “Where?”
“I told you, Mom. We’re going to California. You and me. You’re getting away from that creep.”
Her mother sighed. That, she understood. “Oh, honey, it’s not so bad. He’s not so bad.”
Ginny felt an ice-cold chill go through her body. “Mom, I’ve got it all figured out. You’ll see. You’ll be glad.”
“What?” Her mother’s voice was drifting. Ginny could almost smell the booze through the line.
“Never mind, Mom. I’ll call you again.”
“Okay, honey. Bye.” Her mother hung up.
Fuck. Dumb fuck. She was doing all this for her mother, and her mother didn’t give a shit. Well, fuck her, she was doing it anyway. Ginny felt her throat start to close, the strangling sensation tightening as her heart started to pound. The room went out of focus. She shut her eyes. No, no. Please. Not again. Go away. But her heart kept pounding, louder, faster. Dry tears squeezed against her eyelids.