The Surrender: Falling In Part 2

"A bit. Hank'll be back tomorrow. I can get some from him."

"Don't do that, Momma. I'll give you the money."

There was no use not giving her the money for a fix. Pearl couldn't make it more than a few days without it and she'd do anything to get it. Anything. Scout's lectures about sharing needles and s.e.xual favors had fallen on deaf ears, and Hep C was the only compet.i.tion heroin had in the race to end her mother's life. Her gaze purposefully avoided the slavered candle in the corner next to the filthy spoon.

"I gotta go, Momma." Pearl never asked about her job or where she got her money. She was too far gone in a world of her own. "It's almost dark."

"How come you don't bring your friend?"

"Parker's at the shelter."

"He treatin' you good?"

"You know it isn't like that between Parker and me, Momma."

She gave her a look of skepticism. "He reminds me of your daddy. You bring him back here with you next time."

"I will."

Scout nodded and wearily stood. Some days it was so hard not to take her mother into her arms and hug her the way she used to. It'd been years since Pearl let her touch her like that, like a daughter. It was for the best, considering her health.

"I'll be back tomorrow night, Momma."

Leaving the mill, Scout's energy abandoned her. Streetlights flickered above as she slowly headed back to the shelter. Her cold fingers shook and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her hair as the bitter wind snuck down the collar of her shirt. Thoughts of the day played through her mind and she tried not to worry about what would come tomorrow. Scout still wasn't sure if she had a job to return to in the morning.

By the time the black silhouette of St. Christopher's showed in the distance, her hunger pangs had converged into a dull throb. She spotted Parker's tall form in the shadows before stepping onto the cracked pavement of the old church's courtyard. He pushed off the wall and met her by the broken steps of the shelter.

"You went to see Pearl." It wasn't a question. Parker wasn't her keeper, but he liked to pretend he was.

"I needed to drop her off some things. She wants you to come with me tomorrow."

"You're going back?"

"Yes."

There was no need to explain that she'd gotten paid and wanted to bring Pearl more supplies. It was none of his business. She'd be going back with or without him. Like Pearl and her reckless lifestyle, Scout could be unbending too.

"You almost didn't make curfew, Scout. You can't keep going there this late at night."

"If I miss curfew I'll just stay there."

He stilled and then quickly caught back up to her as she pulled the heavy door to the church open. Her muscles were tired and weak, begging for a break. "I think you should only go there on the days you don't work. It isn't safe to go there when it's dark."

"I grew up there, Parker."

No matter the years Parker had been on the streets, he'd never fully understand what it meant to be born there, to never have any other option or never know what it might be like to have a roof over your head no one could take from you. His background was very different than Scout's. The streets of Folsom were all she'd ever known.

He'd long ago given up asking why her mom couldn't stay in the shelter and she was grateful he had. Scout rarely took the time to explain herself, but Parker was her friend. He worried. It was easier when he accepted this was the way it would be, and his opinions wouldn't change what was.

They walked into the church and down into the bas.e.m.e.nt. The scent of stew and boiled carrots had her cramps returning with a vengeance.

"I'll go with you," he said as he held the door for her.

The subdued chatter of the residence greeted them. Following Parker to the line of people, she secured her bag over her shoulders and lowered her hood. They each grabbed a tray.

"You don't have to," she told him as they followed the sluggish line.

Parker's eyes focused on the new resident three s.p.a.ces ahead of them. He was an older tan-skinned man whose left eye never moved. The man had stared at them the entire time they ate the night before, and Parker already decided to hate him.

"Ignore him, Parker."

"I don't like the way he leers at you."

"He's harmless."

Moving through the slop line, they filled their trays with potatoes, rolls, wilted salad, and what looked to be beef stew. Parker followed her to the end table where they sat and ate in silence. Scout tucked her roll in her bag at her feet for lunch tomorrow. The potatoes were flavorless and too mushy to cut. Gently scooping one into her mouth, she chewed as her cheek stretched over the boiled tuber.

"How was work?"

The watery potato disappeared down her throat with little flavor to herald its journey. "Good, but I might've gotten in trouble today." They ate in silence for several minutes, food taking precedence over all else.

Once their plates were mostly clean, Parker asked, "What happened?"

Scout's fork sc.r.a.ped the last of her stew into the crease of her bowl, hoping to get one last bite. Her stomach was already cramping with fullness, but she couldn't waste the warm sustenance.

"I had to do the penthouses today because the girl who usually does it was out. There're people who actually live in there. Can you believe that? The place I cleaned was so luxurious you would've p.i.s.sed yourself, Park. It was insane."

"So how did you get in trouble?"

Parker never commented on her references to others' wealth anymore. He found it unimpressive, whereas Scout found it fascinating how rich people lived. He'd constantly told her that her standards were screwed up, and people like them shouldn't fixate over a life they'd probably never have. She didn't see it that way. There was no predicting what the future could bring.

"Well, I accidentally knocked over some papers and of course the guy who lived there walked in the moment I was picking them up. I don't know what he does for a living, but whatever it is I'm pretty sure he's good at it. He was terrifyingly powerful."

Parker scowled, his soft green eyes taking on a menacing glare. "How so?"

"Just in the way he carried himself. Even his shoes were intimidating. He was tall and handsome and rich. I think he thought I was snooping. He sort of cornered me and gave me an inquisition."

"Did you tell him to go f.u.c.k himself?"

Scout rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Parker, I told the billionaire to f.u.c.k himself. Are you nuts? I need this job."

"There're other jobs, Scout. You don't need to take any c.r.a.p from some self-important a.s.shole. You should've told your boss if you felt threatened."

"I didn't say he threatened me. He just intimidated me. It doesn't matter. I'll probably never see him again. I may not even have a job in the morning. Whatever was on those papers, he seemed pretty protective of."

Parker was no longer listening to her. She followed his gaze, and the older man who'd been watching them the night before was leering at her again. Scout sighed and stacked her dishes. "Let it go, Parker."

"I don't like him."

"He knows."

Following supper they walked over to the old school. Parker headed to the men's bathroom and Scout visited the ladies' room. Once she used the toilet, she went to the sink and unraveled a bar of Patras soap. After scrubbing her hands and face vigorously and picking any flecks of dirt from under her nails, she took a wet washcloth into the stall to clean her body. Changing her pants and underwear, Scout shifted all her money into her money belt and tightened it around her ribs. Her belongings were stuffed back in her bag and she headed to the girls' quarters.

Selectively, she pulled a mat from the pile, discarding the stained one at the top of the heap, and carried it to the far corner. The echo of a baby crying from the family quarters overwhelmed the silence.

Scout's blanket withdrew from her bag in as practiced a move as a magician pulls flowers from his sleeve. She shoved the bag to the head of her mat as a pillow.

Nimbly, her fingers removed the laces from her shoes and tied them into one long string, then threaded the frayed edge through the tiny zipper of her bag and tied the other end around her wrist. As the last of the overhead lights shut off, leaving only the dim glow of the emergency signs, she settled in for the night.

The baby eventually stopped crying and other than a spontaneous cough, the room was quiet. Scout's tired mind reflected her mother and what she'd bring her the next day. She thought about the man from dinner and decided to stay away from him in the future. But her last thoughts before she fell asleep were of startling black eyes and the warm scent of lived-in silk.

Chapter 3.

What's in a name?

Tamara handed her the key and Scout frowned. "Isn't Bridget here today?"

"Yes, but Mr. Patras specifically requested you tend to the penthouses for now on."

"P-Patras?" The man from yesterday must've really been upset to complain to the owner of the hotel. "Tamara, I don't know what the man from the penthouse told you, but I want you to know I wasn't snooping. I accidentally knocked over his things and he happened to walk in just as I was trying to straighten up the mess."

The GM frowned at her. "He didn't say anything about you snooping. As a matter of fact, he called down after you left yesterday to tell me how pleased he was with your attention to detail."

Scout's restless fingers twitched and smoothed her ap.r.o.n. "What about my other rooms?"

"Don't worry about them. I put Miguel on your old section. We have a guest coming into master suite B tonight so you'll need to clean that room tomorrow. Today you just need to freshen it up. In the service kitchen you'll find fresh fruit and flower arrangements to take with you. Ask Raphael. He'll show you which ones."

Building trepidation made it difficult to focus on what her GM was saying. Scout wasn't sure who Raphael was and only had a general idea of how to get to the service kitchen. Rather than allow her dread to ruin her day, she found her cart and took the elevator to the penthouse floor to do the general guest suites first.

Scout finished the thirtieth-floor rooms by noon and used her lunch to locate the service kitchen. Aside from the common areas and guest rooms, there was an entire labyrinth of service pa.s.sages the staff used.

Reluctantly, she finally asked another maid named Mona where the service kitchen was. In broken English the maid explained it was in the lower level. Scout needed to take the west wing all the way down until a sign appeared that read "Kitchen," then follow the arrows. This was going to be a problem.

Once in the west wing there were signs on every corner. Scout looked for words that started with C, hoping she'd find the word kitchen. No luck. Tears of frustration blurred her vision after more time than her lunch break allotted had pa.s.sed. Taking a breath she slowly tried to sound out each word on the sign.

Her eyes focused on the first word.

Incinerator.

Scout had no idea what that said, but she knew it didn't say kitchen.

Accounting.

Shaking her head, she firmed her lips and wiped her eyes. It had been too long since Parker and she had sat down to practice reading.

There were three more big words that she skipped because they didn't look like they spelled kitchen either. Scout considered going to find Mona again, but the other maid seemed ha.s.sled to begin with.

Startled by the sound of someone coming, she discreetly wiped her eyes. A man in a white jacket came from a door down the hall. He had a smear of red on his cuff and carried a rag. He sort of looked like a chef.

Straightening her shoulders, Scout waited until he came closer and then asked, "Do you know Raphael?"

He stilled as if he hadn't seen her standing there. "I am Raphael," he said in a clipped accent that sounded French.

A huge sigh of relief puffed out her cheeks. "Oh, thank G.o.d. Can you show me where the service kitchen is? I'm supposed to pick up flowers and fresh fruit for the penthouse master suites."

"I was wondering when you were going to show up. No Bridget today?" He said the other girl's name like Brisheet and for some reason that pleased Scout.

She shook her head. "I'm a.s.signed to that floor this week."

He looked at her then, his eyes a.s.sessing her critically. Only because Scout was dependent on him to show her where the supplies she needed were, did she not snap her fingers in his face and demand he stop looking at her that way.

"I think you will have the top floor longer than a week, child. You're prettier than Bridget."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Everything. Follow me." He turned briskly and Scout rushed after him. He led her into the doorway he'd come from and she was suddenly in a bustling underground kitchen.

Stacks of pots billowed with steam, and wonderful fragrances of food made her mouth water. A man shouted in French and Raphael quickly said something back she didn't understand.

Dishes clattered and phones rang. There was a computer screen overhead and a man a.s.sembling fruit cups at a counter read from the screen as he worked. Mesmerized, Scout watched him mult.i.tasking with nimble dexterity and b.u.mped into Raphael. He turned and glowered at her, but then his features softened. Raphael had a nose too wide for his face.

"You like honeydew, Cendrillon? You taste this honeydew. It is so fresh it will bring tears to your eyes."

His clean fingers reached to the counter were the man worked, and plucked up a green ball wrapped in some sort of pink meat.

"What is it?"

"It is prosciutto. Delicious. You taste and then tell me what a culinary genius I am." He smiled and held the wrapped fruit out to her.

She carefully took the fruit from him and sniffed it. It was cool in her warm fingers. The sweet and refreshing scent of melon filled her nose. The meat had an earthy, smoked smell to it. Glancing to the chef one last time, he nodded.

"Just pop it in your mouth. Trust me. Delicious." Raphael had very nice teeth.

Hesitantly, she placed the morsel in her mouth. Its salty, sugary flavor burst over her tongue and she moaned. Her teeth cut through the delicate, thinly cut meat and melon juice exploded over her taste buds.

"Oh, my G.o.d."

"It is spectacular, oui?"

"Very good!" Her fingers covered her mouth as she chewed and swallowed.

"Bon. Now come with me, Cendrillon. I show you where your flowers and fruit are."