I watched her slender back as she opened the door. Maybe I thought it was weird that she was carrying a man’s leather briefcase instead of a purse, or maybe I was just glad to see her go. She didn’t say thank you or even goodbye.
Minutes later, two men came into my office.
“You can’t just walk in there,” Didi was saying, but they already had.
The first guy through the door had a distinct Eastern Bloc look to his weasely, intense features. He was deeply tanned, dressed like an Armenian pop star, and had to be a good two inches shorter than me. His tall buddy in the doorway looked more like a corn-fed redneck, with thinning blond hair, cold blue eyes and a fat but powerful body like those guys that pull trucks with their teeth. His simple, all-black clothes were all business. Bad business.
“I don’t book male talent,” I said. “Try Eros over on Sherman Way.”
“Funny,” the weasely guy said. He was clearly the mouth of the two and had a faint, slightly different variation on Lia’s accent. “We’re looking for Lia.”
“Just missed her,” I told them.
“We didn’t see her come out of the building,” the weasel said, eyefucking me like he learned it from TV. “Why do you suppose that is?”
There was a faint shuffling from the bathroom and the weasel snapped his head toward the sound like a hungry predator.
“She had to powder her nose,” he said. “Is that it?”
“Look, I don’t know you or her,” I said. “And I don’t want anything to do with...”
Before I could finish, the redneck strode back into the reception area, past indignant Didi to the bathroom door and kicked it open.
“Hey!” Didi cried.
The bathroom was empty. Lia’s expensive shoes were on the floor by the toilet. The window was open, just enough for an underfed girl to worm her way through. My office was on the second floor. It was a doable jump, though you wouldn’t like hitting the concrete of the parking lot next door. Especially not with bare feet. You’d have to be pretty motivated. She obviously was.
“Listen here, you lousy sons of bitches,” Didi said, fearlessly getting up in the guys’ faces like an angry Jack Russell Terrier. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you have exactly three seconds to get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.”
The men barely seemed to hear her. They just brushed her aside and left without another word.
“What the hell was that all about?” Didi has asked me.
“I have no idea,” I replied, fuming at the broken lock on the bathroom door. “And frankly, I don’t want to know.”
Of course, at that time, I had no idea how right I was. Lying there tied to a bed with sweat all sticky and pooling on the plastic beneath me, surrounded by a variety of extremely bad men, I wanted to know even less.
4.
“Look,” I said with whatever voice I could muster. “I don’t know anything about any money. That girl, she just came and left when those two guys showed up. That’s all I know.”
“Start at the beginning,” the boss said, lighting up a cigarette. “Tell me everything she told you.”
“She didn’t tell me anything,” I said.
“She must have said something,” the boss replied. “What did she want? Not work, obviously.”
Why was that obvious? I had thought she was looking for work when I first saw her. I had no idea how much this asshole knew about what had happened in my office. Was he really in the dark or just looking for me to confirm his suspicions?
“She wanted to get in touch with one of my models,” I told him. “Said they were friends as kids.”
“She wanted to catch up?” the boss asked. “Reminisce about old times?”
I shrugged or tried to. It came out kind of funny with my arms tied out to either side.
The boss nodded, contemplating the smoke from the end of his cigarette. Then he brought the cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag. When he exhaled, two words came out with the smoke.
“Which model?”
I closed my eyes. Zandora was hardly my best friend. She was a shallow bimbo with more designer sunglasses than sense, but she sure as hell didn’t deserve to have this guy after her. The last thing I wanted to do was to drag her or anyone else into this ugly mess. I told myself to hold out, hanging on to the idea that I was protecting Zandora. I needed to at least try and be tough, because I didn’t want to think of myself as the sort of person that rolled over after two punches.
“You’re thinking about being brave,” the boss said, taking another deep drag off his cigarette. “Don’t.”
“Angel, please,” Sam said, his eyes bright and desperate.
“Shut up,” the rhino said again and shot another curt hook at Sam’s temple.
I said nothing. I squinted up at the boss and put what I hoped was a tough expression on my face. He sighed like a disappointed teacher and handed his cigarette to Jesse.
Jesse cracked a huge grin and parked the cigarette in one corner of his mouth. Then he climbed up onto the bed, straddling my hips and putting his left hand around my throat. His hands were big. I felt his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft spots beneath my ears while the wide palm leaned down on my windpipe, cutting off my air. His face was inches from mine, pretty blue eyes gazing intently into mine like a romance novel hero as he took the cigarette from his lips with his other hand.
When I felt the heat of the cigarette moving closer to my cringing skin, all my tough-guy plans went right out the window.
“Zandora Dior,” I said, my voice an airless croak.
“I’m sorry,” the boss said, gesturing to Jesse to back off. “Could you repeat that?”
Jesse reluctantly let go of my neck but stayed on top of me. He was heavy. I could feel how much he was enjoying himself. I wanted to kill him.
“Zandora,” I said again, only a little more clearly this time. “Zandora Dior.”
“Ah,” the boss said. He plucked his cigarette from between Jesse’s fingers and took another drag. Jesse looked like he’d just had his favorite toy taken away.
“...but I didn’t give that girl Zandora’s phone number,” I said. “I just told her I would give Zandora her cell number but I never did. I never did.”
I could tell I’d fucked up as soon as the words were out of my mouth. The boss’ eyes narrowed. Jesse’s grin came back, wider than ever.
“Lia doesn’t have a cell phone,” the boss said.
Jesse’s hand was on my throat again. He just couldn’t seem to get enough of that. I know plenty of girls that are really into that asphix shit, but not me.
“Let’s start again,” the boss said. “From the beginning.”
I won’t bore you with the details, but they got it all out of me. Everything. The note, the club I faxed it to, where Zandora was staying in Vegas, everything. I would have told them about the time I took three dollars from Sister Mary Francis’ desk drawer back in the second grade if they had asked. But what the boss kept coming back to I couldn’t help him with. The fucker just wouldn’t let go of the business with the briefcase full of money. He seemed convinced that I either had his money or knew where it was.
My lips felt hot and huge and one of my teeth felt loose in its socket. I was pretty sure my nose was broken, making it extremely difficult to breathe. My eyes were blacking up and closing down fast, blurry with blood and sweat. I was crying by then and hating myself for it. Helpless, silent tears dripped down into my ears as I turned my head to the side and spat blood onto the plastic.
“Please,” I said. “Please.”