Off the Grid (9 page)

The memory of his words soured the sweet lingering taste of Caleb. What did she know about relationships or being a family? Except failure? Sophie returned to the front of the album, stroked a finger over a faded photo. They looked happy, her parents, Marnie and her. They smiled for the camera. A Christmas tree strung with tinsel and her grandmother’s treasured ornaments provided the backdrop. If she tried she could hear the laughter of extended family gathering around. It was the last Christmas they’d spent in the same place before everything broke apart.

Nothing of the fight earlier that long ago day showed on their faces. Not the screaming. Not the slammed doors, angry curse words, or bizarre accusations. Not her mother’s weeping.

What good did it do to relive it all again? She shut the book and laid it aside. She tucked her feet up under her and pulled the blanket tighter. Her Christmas tree with its multi-colored lights lit up the corner. The television was playing some feel good goofy holiday movie. She turned it off and curled up.

She thought of Caleb. And sex. Of courage. Oh, he was good. Throw down a challenge because Sophie can’t resist a challenge. Like he knew her. Had figured out what made her tick. Challenges, compliments, witty repartee. And she was ticking.
If
she decided she was ready, she was going to eat him alive.

Planning out her moves proved an excellent anesthetic. She grinned into her warm blanket, confident she was on the right track. Definitely distracting. Why shouldn’t she take a page out of Caleb’s book? Keep things casual. Fun. The want pulsed down her nerve endings, her fingers knotted in the knitted spread. She could do it and enjoy every moment. When they were done? They were done. No regrets.

She allowed her eyes to drift shut. It would be so easy to do casual with him. What would he look like unbuttoned and undone? Long and lean she decided as she relaxed against a pillow. She pictured him liking slinky, black lingerie. A black lacy bra to match? And heels. Very high heels. All the better to stab him in the ego.

He was a thinking man, one who knew the power of words, one who would excel at the language of sex. He wasn’t scared to get his hands dirty. She’d underestimated him there. She visualized him in court. Like her favorite book. The heat of a stifling courtroom. The rustle of anxious spectators. Caleb Quinn arguing on behalf of the impossible.

Irresistible.

The lovely fantasy evaporated at the sound of a key fitting into her front door lock. She lifted her head, waited. There was no way for Marnie to avoid her. She was sitting on her makeshift bed.

There were no other lights on except for the lit tree so she sat up and switched on a lamp. Marnie took her time putting away her winter gear.

“You’re still up.” Marnie’s tone backed up her sneer.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Sophie smoothed a hand over her hair. “And I wanted to talk to you.”

“Goodie. Why aren’t you off shagging the lawyer?” Marnie came and slumped down into the chair across from Sophie. Her head dropped back and she sighed. “It might go a long way to helping you relax.”

“Where have you been?” Sophie searched for signs of drug use, trying to determine if she’d gone to meet her dealer. There was no sweating, no shaking. Not like before she’d stormed off.

“Around.” Marnie straightened up. She grabbed up the discarded album, turned a couple of pages and snapped it shut. Tossed it aside. “Checking on some things.”

“We need to talk about Kellie.”

“God, you are such a pain in the ass.” She sniffed, and sniffed again. Sophie’s heart sank. Marnie draped her arms over the sides of the cushy chair. “I’ll worry about Kellie. I’m going to take care of everything.”

The thought of Marnie policing Kellie’s situation scared Sophie worse than any rant she could have thrown. Caleb was right. She knew it. Some things were a given. It was up to her to ask the hard questions. “How did the two of you meet?”

“On the street. Where else?” It came out on a sigh as she continued to stare at the ceiling.

“Kellie says you had a relationship with her father.”

Marnie tensed and then made a concentrated effort to appear casual. She lifted her head and nodded at the couch. “I’m super tired and you’re taking up space on my bed, so…”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Have a relationship with him?”

“Depends on your definition.” Marnie’s gaze settled on her. Her warning smile hinted at the coming hurt. “I stayed there whenever he could afford it. The place had four walls, the drugs were quality, and he’s hung like a horse. So I, you know, made the most of it.”

Sophie refused to react, not so much as a twitch. This was Marnie at her best or worst depending how you looked at it. It didn’t mean the hurt didn’t go bone deep. “We do what we have to, to survive. No one blames you.”

Marnie snorted. “You never give up, do you?”

No, she didn’t. It made the question she had to ask next so damn hard. Because there were some things you didn’t want the answer to. “What you said about Jason Drummond shopping the DTES? Who lines up the girls for him? Who gets the finder’s fee?”

Marnie turned her head to stare at the colored lights of the tree. With a shaky hand she pushed back her hair. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

“Oh, God.” Sophie closed her eyes. Her throat dried up, whispers were all she had left. “How could you?”

“They volunteered, okay? I didn’t force them into anything. They went in knowing the score, their eyes wide open.” She shifted in the chair. Tried to shrug it off. Appear casual. It didn’t work. “In the end they had some money to make a better life.”

“And Kellie? This is her better life?” Sophie demanded, opting for anger.

“You don’t know anything about her life.”

“So, tell me,” Sophie pressed. “Enlighten me. I need to know why this girl means so damn much to you.”

“Why? Jealous?” It was there in Marnie’s eyes. The pinpricks of triumph. The knowledge she’d scored a direct hit.

Sophie tried to swallow the hurt but it came right back up. It grew teeth on its way out of her mouth. “You pimped her out to a man with no more scruples than you. You hate Jason Drummond? Take a good hard look in the mirror.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to him,” Marnie spat out.

“What did you do with the money he gave Kellie? What kind of trouble are you in?”

“I’m not in any kind of trouble. I’m squeaky clean. Can’t you tell?”

“You want to ruin your life? Fine. If you care for her so damn much why drag Kellie down with you?”

“I didn’t drag her. She volunteered.”

“She’s eighteen years old. She loves you. She trusts you.”

“God, when are you going to wake up! She was this close to being evicted. No money for food. Or clothes. No job experience. It was either Jason Drummond’s money or flashing her ass on the street to strangers offering to toss her a twenty for a blow job. So you tell me: What option would you choose?”

“There are places who will take in—”

“It’s called reality. And it exists for some of us.”

“And you took Kellie’s and made it infinitely more complicated. On top of all those challenges you listed she now has a child to care for and protect. Because the man you sold her to isn’t going to be happy about being her baby daddy.”

“I said I was going to fix it. Make it right.”

“You can’t even make things right for yourself.” Sophie stood, her only desire to put distance between her and her sibling. She’d been jealous, so jealous of Kellie and her relationship with her sister. Now all she saw was one more victim. Halfway to the hallway she halted, turned back. “Merry Christmas. You’ve gotten what you’ve always wanted. I give up.”

She’d spent her whole life trying to make up for her parents’ lack of understanding and their refusal to acknowledge Marnie’s mental illness. For their abandonment. For the first time in those collection of years, she was walking away first. It didn’t lessen the weight. It only made it harder to drag along behind her.

Chapter Four

Caleb strode into the bar of the Empress Hotel, a grand name for the tall, skinny landmark holding court in the most notorious section of the Downtown Eastside. A brief scan showed no signs of Sophie, so he headed for the front of the cramped room and the empty stools lining the bar. It had taken some convincing but she’d agreed to meet him for a drink after work. Okay, he’d called it a strategy session. She’d picked the spot.

“Not there.” A slight tug on his arm steered him to the right. Sophie dipped her head in the direction of an empty table.

“Why not? They’re empty.” And closer to the alcohol he required after the day he’d spent smoothing things over after his no show on Christmas Eve.

She gave him a look. “They’re reserved for regulars. No one else is allowed to sit there.”

He stopped to stare at her. “Are you serious?”

She rolled her eyes and led him in the direction of an empty table. “You could always try to sit there and find out.”

He sized up the room along with the excellent view of her navigating the way in front of him. He’d half expected her to show up in scrubs but instead dark jeans hugged her hips; a parka with the popular Canada Goose logo hid her curves. Her hair was spiked up and hoops hung from her ears, fur-topped boots protected her feet. She looked like she belonged in front of a roaring fire at a ski lodge.

He shrugged. Right now he was prepared to follow her anywhere. “Lead the way.”

Parkas hung from backs of chairs, heads sported varying styles of toque hair. Vancouver was a coastal city and while it might not register north of sixty it was still cold. In Canada winter meant dressing the part.

An elderly man waved. Tattoos ran up his neck and spilled out of his shirt sleeves to cover the backs of his hands. Another man with missing teeth and a wide smile called out, “Hey, Doc.” She lifted a hand in recognition, offered a smile here and there. Rested a hand on the shoulder of a woman, leaned in to answer her quiet question. He was starting to think he’d never get a drink when they reached the open table. He pulled out a chair for her.

He settled into the opposite chair, shifted on the hard surface to find a comfortable spot and, if he was honest, to take a second to strategize. It was clear she was in her element. And that he was out of his. No surprise to her since she’d counted on it.

Smart lady. Good thing he relished a challenge. He let the slow burn of hers heat and simmer. Let the hint of smug and the triumphant slide of her tongue over her bottom lip slap at the urges he was keeping locked up tight. She was here to prove a point. He was going to let her. So he raised a brow. “Rough looking crowd.”

“Maybe on the outside.” She kept busy taking off her coat, stuffing mitts in pockets, placing her pocketbook just so. “But they’re simply folks like you and me.”

He shot her a look.

“Mostly. Minus the designer suit. And ridiculous watch.” She gave his customized Breitling a pointed look. “And the drinks are super cheap.”

“Last year’s Christmas gift.” He shrugged out of his car coat, folded it, and draped it over a chair. “I take it you come here often?”

“Would you think less of me if I said yes?”

“If I admitted it makes me uneasy? Are you going to think less of me?”

She leaned in to point through to the very back. “There’s a police station out the rear door. Cops, judges, and clerks have been known to stop in for the occasional beverage.”

“Stopping in for a pint at noon is one thing.” He dipped his head to the left to study a group of men walking through the door. He recognized gang colors when he saw them. “Ending up here at closing time is another animal entirely.”

“Careful, your biases are showing.” She signaled a passing waitress then settled back in her chair. “Watch and learn.”

The regulars filling those prized bar seats made sure the new arrivals knew they weren’t welcome. The staff behind the bar refused to serve them. Cursed with the veil of invisibility they left, but not without a lot of hand gestures and cursing.

“Street Bars 101. The movement of the crowd tells you something. A lot of activity, a lot of walking around, means they’re dealing drugs. Working the crowd.” She gestured around her. “Look around. What do you see? People sitting and drinking. Content to stay that way. That’s how you know a bar is safe.”

It bothered him she knew those details. “So, you’re saying there’s no difference between here and everywhere else?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

The waitress approached and he ordered a much needed beer. He sat back content to play her game and eyed the crowd. “All right, convince me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t a lawyer’s idea of foreplay is it?”

“That’s privileged information.” Truth was she didn’t have to do a thing. She breathed, he noticed. Not good but he was too enthralled to care. “Dazzle me.”

A delicate frown creased her forehead. Her eyes narrowed the tiniest little bit. He waited her out. She shrugged. “Okay. They’re talking about the state of the economy at the next table, the lack of jobs, the price of gas. See those two college girls heading for those reserved bar stools? They’re looking for a bit of adventure and slumming it in the DTES. Because they’re young and pretty the bartender is going to cut them some slack, offer them a stool, engage in a little flirting. Behind me they’re predicting the outcome of the Canucks’ next game. Money, women, and sports. What is it you talk about with your buddies over drinks?” She sat back, crossed her arms confident she’d won.

“You’ve got me there.” Caleb debated over his next move when a fuss at the front caught his attention. Three men paused just inside the front of the room. What the
fuck
? He frowned, straightened up and watched Jason Drummond search the room, spot them, and signal to his companions.

And he knew. Without a doubt. Jason Drummond was guilty of everything Kellie accused him of.

“That’s it?” Sophie swallowed a sip of beer. She set her glass down. “That was easy.”

Caleb gave a slight shake of his head. “Heads up, Jason Drummond just walked in and he’s coming this way.”

“What?” Her eyes widened with disbelief. She looked toward to the door. There was no way for her to overlook them.