I falter, stopping just before I walk straight into him. He’s staring down at me and something about him makes me back up a step. Right into another man’s chest.
I look from one to the other, two giants dressed in suits that are too tight, too wrong.
The one in front of me steps toward a closed door and opens it. “In,” he says.
I turn to the one behind me, but he shoves me forward. I would scream but the music from the concert would drown out any sound. So when he places his hand at my back again, I move forward. I stop when I get to the door and see who’s inside. I’m confused.
“Julia?”
The dressing room isn’t brightly lit and there are costumes everywhere. The table she’s sitting in front of is loaded with makeup and a scented candle burns on the corner. Cinnamon. I used to like the scent but now it makes my stomach turn. On her lap is a very sleepy Matty.
Julia gets to her feet, hugging her son to her body. He’s in his pajamas, one thumb in his mouth, the other holding a little blue blanket with a rabbit on one corner. His head is on Julia’s shoulder and he’s so tired he can barely manage a smile.
“Thank you,” Julia says to the man behind me. “Wait outside.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I watch the two hulking men step outside and close the door. When I turn back, Julia smiles at me. She looks tired, too.
“What’s going on?” I ask, hugging them both tight.
“Belle,” Matty says around his thumb.
I kiss his little cheek and take him from Julia. “What are you doing here, buddy? It’s late for you.”
“He wanted to see you and this was the only way. He misses you. And I thought with the anniversary coming up…” Julia trails off.
The anniversary. The night Christian was killed.
We take a seat, she on the same chair she just vacated, me on a couch where there’s just enough space for me to perch with all the costumes stacked on top of it.
I lay my hand on the back of Matty’s head, feeling him grow heavier as he drifts off to sleep.
“I can’t believe it’s been three years,” I say, speaking of the anniversary of Christian’s death.
“No. It’s gone fast,” she acknowledges. “Anyway, we don’t have much time. I’m sure your goon husband will have an army searching for you in a few minutes.” I am surprised by this sharp turn in conversation but I’m not sure I want to talk about the night of the break in, or my brother’s murder, with Julia. Or with anyone else.
“Those men… Who are those men?” I ask. “One of them shoved me.”
“Shit. Sorry about that. I told them you were pregnant. Not to touch you.”
“Who are they?”
“Protection,” she says. “Carlton hired them for Matty and me after your husband threatened us.”
“He did what?”
“He came to see Carlton the other day. Didn’t he tell you?”
I don’t mention that I’d caught the scent of her perfume clinging to my husband’s suit. “Yes. Well, no. He said you were there, not Carlton.”
“I don’t think he likes dealing with strong women.” I’m not quite sure how to take that, but she continues so I push it aside. “Anyway, he was expecting Carlton, but you know your brother. He was at the Cat House, as usual.”
“Carlton? At the Cat House?” I feel my eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“Okay, maybe you don’t know Carlton that way but, it doesn’t matter. He’s not why I’m here and I’m sure if he knew I came this close to Jericho St. James, he’d lose his shit.”
“Okay, what happened exactly?”
She glances at Matty. “He came to gloat about the pregnancy. About how he was going to use the baby to take everything from us. The house. The land. The various properties. Any money that’s left.”
“What?”
She nods. “I don’t know how he is with you. I guess he handles you with kid gloves, considering.” She gestures toward my stomach and I swear there’s a moment of something dark that passes through her eyes. “He’s going to use that baby to steal it all, Isabelle. I told you that already. Now you’ve just given him what he wants.”
“I didn’t exactly give it to him.”
“No? Did he force you? Not that it matters. I’m sure he has the cops and the courts in his pocket. Not to mention the Tribunal. I don’t know where your head is in this. I can’t imagine you’ve given a family any thought.”
“A family, no—”
“Not that it would be a family,” she continues quickly. I’m pretty sure she’s not hearing me. She’s caught up in her head. It’s not like her. “Once he has the baby, he won’t need you. You’ll go the way of Nellie Bishop and any other Bishop who’s had the misfortune of crossing their path. You should read their history. Your future is written in it.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’ll twist your mind. Have you believing exactly what he wants you to believe. You’re malleable, Isabelle. It’ll be easy for him.”
“What?”’
“Never mind. We don’t have time. Let me finish. He threatened Matty, Isabelle. Matty.” Her eyes grow wet.
“What do you mean?” I ask, glancing at the tiny head on my shoulder with its blond curls. He looks like a little angel with his cherub-like face and that hair.
“He told me to stay away from you or he’d come after my family.” She wipes a stray tear from her eye.
“He did what?” I feel myself shudder and hug the tiny boy in my arms closer.
“Look, I’m sure he’s worried you’ll miscarry, and he’ll have to start all over again.”
The way she says it makes me think about how Jericho is with Angelique. Makes me wonder about our child. How he’ll be with him or her. If he’ll love him or her like he does Angelique. The way Julia says it, the child isn’t a human being. It’s either a threat or a weapon depending on which side you’re standing on.
“It’s a baby,” I say.
“I know, honey,” she says. I wonder at the use of the word honey. It’s not like Julia to use endearments but this also isn’t meant as an endearment. It’s said like she’d say it to those she finds beneath her. I’ve seen this side of Julia with waiters and other staff. It’s ugly. “To you and to me, it’s a baby. But to him, it’s a weapon. And once you hand that baby over, you’ll never see it again. If you live to see anything at all.”
I shudder and Matty stirs. I pat his head and whisper shh in his ear.
She checks her watch and stands up. “You should get back, but I wanted to tell you about what happened. I don’t think he would have been honest about that. About threatening a four-year-old.”
“Julia, he has a child himself. He wouldn’t—”
“Don’t be naïve,” she snaps. She looks upset, really upset. She reaches into her purse and takes something out.
I look at what she has in her hand.
“You may not need them all but better safe than sorry.”
“What are they?” I ask, chilled as I get to my feet.