The bedroom door clicked behind me, and I stripped from the confines of the Purgatory uniform, tossing it into a laundry basket that seemed to empty itself magically. In nothing but my boxers, I set about making myself a drink from the mini bar, stretching aching limbs and cracking a stiff neck as I headed for the floor to ceiling window. My room overlooked the patio area, where the pool was, where Ella had nearly fallen to her death. My eyes were fixated on the gentle ripples of water, my body still when my phone vibrating on the bed disturbed me.
Seeing Carter's name light up the screen, I answered without hesitation.
“Hey, man, how are you”" I asked, sipping the neat whiskey.
There was a heavy sigh on the other end. “The same. Your Ma and Archie are all that's keeping me together right now. I wish you were here, Jax.”
“Me too, bud.”
There was a slight pause, a deafening silence; I had no idea what to say to him.
“Any news on the funeral?” He asked through a stutter.
It was my turn to sigh. “Not yet. Hopefully, once this auction is over with, I'll know more.”
Carter let out a bitter chuckle. “Ah, I wondered why your pops was getting himself suited and booted. I thought the Murdoch's didn't go to these things?”
I downed the last of my drink and made another. “Me neither, seems things are changing.”
“You got that right.”
The change was evident as we experienced our first phone call since Amy. The last time I'd heard Carter over the phone, he'd been full of hope, excitement for the future, that flame had now been extinguished.
“Mindy's been here a lot,” he said.
My eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? How is she?”
Another loaded sigh. “She's been a goddamn angel, Jax, and she's missing you like crazy, of course.” He tried to laugh, but it was more of a snort.
After a little more stuttered conversation, we said our goodbyes, and I promised I'd get news on Amy's funeral asap. The only problem standing in my way was them refusing to let me see her. There was a sharp nagging at the back of my brain, screaming that I needed to see her body, and it was a feeling I couldn't ignore.
Every day more questions popped up, and the farther away any answers seemed.
Time had sped by; there was now just half-hour before my shift began, so I headed for the shower. I was quick, although I wanted to be anything but, this was a night I'd be dreading the moment I found out I'd be coming here, and I wasn't sure whether I wanted it to start sooner so it would end, or if I could pause time for a while.
As I stepped from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Come in,” I called, paying no mind to who entered, busying myself finding my suit.
“Mr Murdoch,” came the voice, a voice that had the power to do things to me no woman ever had before. “I've brought your vest.”
Turning to face the sweet bird standing unsure at the door, I smiled. Fuck. She looked out of this world. Her red curls spiraled down either side of her face, blue eyes alight, she wore a blue, shimmering gown and in her hands was a bulletproof vest.
I couldn't help myself. Rushing to her, I grabbed the jacket and dumped it on the floor and cupped her head with both hands. Her face, almost healed now, only showed the smallest trace of the violence she endured.
Her hand reached up to hold mine, the slightest touch, and yet it meant so goddamn much, more than she knew. It felt like a breakthrough, even if she still refused to call me Jax.
“How's your back?” She said, her voice a whisper.
“Better. Sore. Fuck my back, bird; you look incredible.” My thumb brushed her jaw, and her pink lips parted, yet her eyes were sad.
“I wish this night had never come. I hate it, and I hate dressing up. I hate what he does and that I can't stop him.”
Her blues filled with tears; all I could do was hold her against my bare chest, hands rubbing her arms. We stayed like that for a few moments, before we witnessed and became unwilling participants in what lay ahead. Every part of me didn't want to let her go, but time continued to tick by, a never-ending punishment, a blessing time was no more.
Pulling away from me, I tried to encourage her with a smile. “We'll get through this.”
Ella returned the smile, although I could tell she took no or little comfort from what I said. “Yes, we will, but those girls won't.”
“Bird, look at me,” I used the tip of my finger to tilt her chin, needing her eyes on me, one last look before I had to leave her. “Remember what I said, yeah? I know we can't save these girls, or all the ones before, but eventually, this whole place and all it stands for will be nothing but ash. A ghostly shell, and we will be far, far away. Trust me, bird?”
There was a harsh knock at the door, Ella jumped back, her back banging on the wood and I tightened the towel around my waist, lowering my voice.
“I'll come find you later, okay?”
She nodded, turned, and then opened the door, much to Benny's surprise.
He grinned, looking between me and then her. “Jax, you ready, man? Things are kicking off downstairs.” Benny stood aside to let Ella passed, her lithe body hurried down the corridor, hands holding a section of her dress so her heels didn't catch the material.
“I just gotta get changed, and I'll be down.”
Benny nodded and left, following Ella's route.
Shutting the door, I looked at the bulletproof vest on the floor, the suit on the bed and swallowed my damn fucking nerves.
Ella.
The room was packed, fit to burst with bodies, mainly male bodies, all lurching around the sides, chatting, their wallets fat with cash. The band on stage played easy listening music, and if I didn't know better, I would have thought I was attending a charity ball or something, not a disgusting auction of teenage girls.
Women dazzled and dripped in diamonds, their ear lobes hung far too low, weighed under the heaviness of their jewels, the catering staff whizzed about like excited bumblebees, and my eyes searched the room for my only friend.
A sweaty hand pressed against the bottom of my back, which was bare thanks to my dress, and I startled, turning to see Mr. Bartos, a familiar face, but not the one I wanted to see.
“Good evening, Ella.” He gushed, taking hold of both of my hands. “You look spectacular as usual.” He leaned in for a kiss, his lips soggy and fat face flushed red, and I turned my cheek towards him. “This is my wife, Loretta. Loretta, this is Mrs Chrobak.” He gestured to the striking woman beside him. Her legs were impossibly long, and she towered over her husband, dark hair curled into a 50's do, red dress pushing her breasts upwards, long red nails fiddled with a champagne glass. She looked bored and not the least bit interested in me.
Wanting to be far away from him as possible, I found my smile and asked, “Have you found your seats okay, sir? I believe Vladimir has you on the top table.” My voice was high pitched, light, and airy, everything opposite of how I felt. Inside. My stomach was in knots, churning, creaking almost.
Mr. Bartos smiled, his discolored teeth sickened me. “You are a treasure, Ella, thank you.”
“Ella!” Called a voice above the music.
Marnie! At last. I spun on my heels, teetering, my usual bare feet not used to being hoisted into the air by four inches.