Secret Worlds (577 page)

The other men in the club felt her energy, sidling up to her. More than one took the liberty of grinding up behind her. She shot those guys down with a dirty look while moving away. She only had interest in one guy. One connection, and he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

She’d retreated to the corner to drink a bottle of water when she heard the commotion over the music. Shouts and cheers brought her out of the dark to see what the excitement was about, to see if he’d appeared after all. One look proved it wasn’t Davis on the floor this time, but another guy, younger—African-American with tiny dreads crowning his head.

Ari looked around for Davis—maybe this wasn’t his crew. She turned to look behind her, over toward the bar and found herself face-to-face with his dark, watchful eyes. The white scarred slash through his eyebrow.

Reality crashed down.

What was she doing? She worked with him, and … the other time had been a mistake, but this? This was no mistake. Ari was trolling for him, which was just … wrong.

“Ari,” he said, but she’d made her decision.

She ran.

She bolted through the crowd, thick with spectators. They fought back, unaware that she just wanted to get away. They were hoping to get an eyeful of the tricks being performed on the stage. Regardless, Ari was determined to get away from him and this clusterfeck of a mistake she’d made, so she struggled through, squeezing and ducking between sweaty bodies. She’d go to Stanton tomorrow and tell him to remove Curtis from her caseload. Let someone else take the case and not embarrass herself any further.

The club had a side exit and Ari pushed through it, knowing the fire alarm wouldn’t go off. She’d seen others going in and out of the door before.

The cold night air slapped her face the instant she stepped outside, and her hearing sounded hollow from the loud music. Tears formed from the cold but reality seemed even more real out there. She’d come to rid herself of the numbness and only made a fool of herself.

“Ari.” She heard her name. Looking straight ahead, she pretended she didn’t hear him. She ran up a short flight of concrete steps to the parking lot next door. Davis met her at the top.

“Holy shitz,” she choked. “How did you...?”

“I jumped.”

Right. He jumped.

She shook her head and said, “This is just really …”

“Awkward?”

“At best.”

She kept her eyes away from his face. From his mouth. From that spot below his ear.

“Can we just keep pretending this never happened?” she asked. The sweat on her arms and neck froze under the night air, sending her into a shiver. Davis reached out and ran his hand down her arm, sharing his warmth. She pulled away and laughed bitterly. “See, like that? That shouldn’t happen.”

“What if I want it to?”

“Do you always get what you want?”

His dark eyes locked with hers and he said, “No. Not always.”

“That other night,” she said. “That wasn’t me.”

“No?”

“No.”

He closed the space between them. “Seemed like it to me,” he said, tipping her head toward his. Calling her bluff.

Rightly so, because that was her. That night. The real her. The one she hid from Oliver and Nick, dressed in straight-laced clothes, and sat stoically in Judge Hatcher’s courtroom.

Ari didn’t know how to respond and she didn’t have to, because the back door opened and a crowd of people spilled out into the parking lot. In the center, Ari saw the guy from the floor. She looked from the group to Davis and saw a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“I have to go,” he said. “Your car is close?”

“Yeah, it’s right there.” Ari clicked the key fob so the lights flashed.

“Are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah, I only had water,” she assured him.

The voices below escalated and she could tell he wanted to go down there. That kid probably was in his crew after all. “Go straight home, okay?”

“Yeah, All right,” she agreed, brushing past him.

He grabbed her arm. “Don’t do anything until we talk.”

“What—” she started to question his right to ask that of her, but he was gone, leaping down the steps and over the railing. Davis disappeared into the crowd below.

***

Ari didn’t do anything about Davis the next day. Or the next. Instead she focused all her energy into catching up on the unrelenting pile of work on her desk. If she was honest with herself, she would admit that she hoped maybe the situation between them would just blow over. Maybe Curtis would fail out of the program and she’d never have to go back.

Other than her work, Ari threw herself into Nick. Well, as far as he was willing to let her.

“How was dinner?” Oliver asked. His legs stretched across the couch and he held a bowl of cereal in his hands.

“Good. I see you’re having your own dinner of champions.”

“Dessert. Dinner was a frozen burrito.”

“Gross.” Ari scrunched her nose in repulsion.

“Well, you bailed on me—again. You know I can’t cook.”

“Poor baby.”

He decided to go one step further. “Plus, I don’t have some handsome sugar daddy springing for dinner either.”

“Hey! I paid for dinner tonight,” Ari argued, but it was futile because it only led Oliver to question “how” she paid for dinner. If he only knew how chaste it all really was.

Just before the 11 o’clock news, Oliver hopped up, tapped her legs out of his way and went to bed. “You coming?” he asked as he secured the lock on the front door and set the alarm.

“Not yet,” she replied, stretching into the space on the couch he’d just vacated, “I need to watch the news—make sure none of the kids landed in the pokey tonight.”

“Okay then … night.” Oliver shuffled off and she heard the lock click on the door of the bathroom they shared.

Ari flipped the TV to the local news and breathed a bit easier as the night’s stories unfolded and none of her clients showed up in the ‘Breaking News’ section. She was about to turn the television off when the news anchor said the words, “mystery man,” and caught Ari’s attention.

Ari reached for the remote and turned up the volume. Oliver came out of the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth, and sat on the couch arm next to her. “Holy shit,” he said, through a mouthful of toothpaste. “There he is!”

“Shhh,” Ari said, focusing on the story.

“Earlier tonight, a fight broke out between rival gangs on the subway platform at Bolton Street. The altercation was caught on surveillance camera. To the surprise of police, the fight had been broken up by the time they arrived. Who stopped it? The local hero people are calling a ‘Vigilante.’”

“Is that the guy you saw?” Oliver asked.

Ari watched the video the news played on a loop. The grainy black and white film was hard to make out but she identified the same or similar outfit from the robbery. Dark hoodie. Dark pants and boots. It wasn’t his clothing that confirmed it for her, though. It was his movement. Quick and precise. Confident.

He wasn’t scared.

“Damn,” Oliver said, running back in after rinsing his mouth. He pointed at the TV. The man managed to get all the kids under control and separated in different directions. Once the police arrived, he jumped over the tracks and disappeared off screen.

“Police have not identified this man and are requesting that in the future, civilians not engage dangerous situations. As we’ve reported before, this is not the first time the Vigilante has interfered in situations like this.” A square photo flashed behind the anchor’s head. It was a blurry photo of the mystery man with the word “Vigilante” stamped across the top. “Let us know how you feel about the Vigilante involving himself in police matters.”

“He’s a ninja, all right.” Oliver glanced up at Ari once she turned off the television. “Who do you think he is?”

“No clue, but it doesn’t look like the police like him being involved.”

“I’m sure they don’t. He’s been doing a better job than they have.” Oliver held out his hand and Ari took it, allowing him to lift her off the couch. “I’m just glad he was there when you needed him,” he said, giving her a hug and a kiss on the top of her head.

“Me, too, because if Jace recognized me, it’s possible he wouldn’t have let me go.”

“Do you think that guy, the ‘mystery man,’ knew that? Is that why he saved you and left everyone else out there?”

Ari shook her head. “If he did, then he knows more than he should.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow but smiled. “That’s what superheroes do, right? They’ve gotta have an edge. Maybe he has an Alfred or something.”

The roommates parted ways and went to their respective rooms. Ari knew Oliver would be out like the dead in a matter of minutes. She wished she could be so lucky. Instead, she tossed and turned all night, dreaming of dark eyes and worn hands, pulling her from behind. His hands were hot and her stomach twisted, even in her sleep. When she tried to catch a glimpse of his face, it was clouded—shaded from view.

Ari woke up panting, her arm slung over the pillow, clutching the black lacquered box.

“Thank you for being ready on time,” Ari said. Hope was in the passenger seat. They were on their way to register her back in school.

“Like I had much choice,” the girl mumbled. She wasn’t happy. Starting back to school was hard for these kids. Hope would struggle, like all the kids in and out of detention. It was Ari’s job to make sure she succeeded.

“Also, once a week I’m going to pick you up from school and we’re going to meet with a therapist.”

“A what? No, I don’t want to do that.”

“I think it will help,” Ari told her.

“I don’t really think I need to see a counselor, Ms. Grant. I’m not crazy.”

“Well, I think you do. And so does Judge Hatcher.” Ari glanced at Hope who had an irritated look on her face. “Going to a therapist doesn’t mean you’re crazy. It means you need someone to talk to that can help you sort through the emotions and problems you’re having right now.”

“I don’t have emotional problems.”

Ari bit back a retort about the violence and prostitution the girl had been involved in since a young age. “Good, then I guess the therapy won’t take long then.”

The early-morning traffic made the drive take longer than she’d hoped. Currently, they were trapped behind a school bus that stopped every two miles. Hope picked up a file Ari shoved in the middle console and read the tab on the edge. “Jace Watkins?”

Ari reached for the file and stashed it in the backseat. “You know you can’t read that.”

“I know him,” Hope said. “He’s my neighbor.”

“Still?” Ari asked. She fought a shiver thinking that Jace could have been that close this whole time.

“His auntie lives there, but he doesn’t come around much.”

“Well, I think he’s in lockup a lot of the time.”

“He’s mean,” Hope said. Ari glanced over and the girl was staring out the window. “He was always mean to me and the other kids when we were little.”

“You’re a lot younger than him. He’s almost 20. So, nearly four years?”

“I guess. He was always around, though.” The school bus made another stop and Ari waited as the kids piled into the vehicle from the sidewalk. Hope fussed with the door lock, flicking it on and off. “He was my first.”

“First?” Ari asked, knowing good and well what she meant. The bus moved forward and Ari did the same. They were close to the school and when the bus pulled into the drop-off lane, Ari continued to the parking lot. She would have to walk inside with Hope and complete the registration paperwork.

“Yeah. I lost my virginity to him.”

Ari eased the car into a parking spot and simply said, “Oh,” because what else could she say?

“I was 8.”

The car jerked to a harsh stop. “Eight?” Ari clarified.

“Yeah,” Hope said, shrugging. She began to gather her things from the floor of the car.

Ari, who had seen and heard everything at this point, terrible stories, stupid decisions, heartbreaking testimonies from mothers and children and victims, felt more pain in her heart from that one statement than from anything she’d encountered before. She turned to the girl and said, “Oh honey, you realize that at 8 we don’t call that losing your virginity, right?”

Again, Hope shrugged and said, “Whatever.” She got out of the car and closed the door.

Ari flipped down the mirror on her car and wiped under her eyes, fighting for composure. She rarely cried. Barely ever on the job. But Hope’s story said so much about her, about her confusion and misunderstanding. How she’d always been a victim and why she didn’t understand selling herself made her a victim all over again.

It also told her everything she needed to know about Jace Watkins.

He was a monster.

***

The numbness came back with a vengeance after hearing Hope’s story. She spent the rest of the day running from the images of 8-year-old Hope, violated by the older boy. She knew the numbness had a name—depression—but Ari wasn’t ready to go there. Not yet.

There were other drugs than antidepressants. Oliver was one for her. Stable and secure. Funny, and so caring. Running helped. The endorphins pumping in her veins made the ghosts go away for a while.

The club had been one, but obviously that was no longer an option. Not if she wanted to keep some level of appropriateness. And then there was Nick. Handsome, successful Nick, who should have been a shining star in Ari’s world. She supposed he was a star, but right then he shone too bright. He glared against her darkness and she couldn’t let him see her like this. Not in the early stages of dating, or he’d run like hell.

After Hope revealed her history with Jace, insomnia took hold. While Oliver slept, Ari decided to clean the house, scrubbing the floors and organizing the closets. It was after midnight when she carried her third bag of garbage out the back door, tossing it into the can—and missing. The bag hit the rim and fell on the patio.

“Motherfudger,” Ari said. Just as she kneeled to pick up the bag, she heard the fence creak and she jumped to her feet. She had a foot halfway in the back door when she called, “Who’s there?”

Davis perched on the top of the wooden fence that separated her house from the neighbor. She could barely see him in the dark, but the zipper from his hoodie reflected the soft glow from the kitchen light. He crouched effortlessly, like a cat.