Prologue
She would never forget the boy with blue eyes who watched her that day. He'd hung around the apartment all day, sending small smiles when she caught him looking that she returned eagerly. Since her mother's death the year before, the only time people talked to her or even looked at her was when they wanted something. Her father wanted money from the lace and weaving that her mother left her to take care of, her five younger brothers and sisters wanted food and comfort and mended pants and pinafores and her customers wanted top quality at the same pace that she and her mother used to turn out at working together. It was nice to have a little attention all to herself. She left the little ones at home to run a package of lace to a dress shop near Gramercy Park and felt him following her. When she stepped out with her hands empty but her pockets full, he was waiting.
"Can I walk you home?" he asked quietly, his blue eyes glowing like moonstones out of the lovely bronze of his face. They didn't look like they belonged there, but they were beautiful nonetheless. She nodded shyly and he held out his elbow like a gentleman. When her hand touched his shirtsleeve, her face seemed to burst into flames. She wasn't sure if there was a drop of blood left anywhere in her body besides her cheeks. They walked arm in arm, chit chating and small talking their way back to the Lower East. His name was Tomás and he worked at a pencil factory, but had the day off. He took her to a fancy drugstore that had soda water where they would normally mix tonics, but the man behind the counter mixed the soda water with cream and ginger syrup and left out the medicine. She'd never seen anything so lovely and frothy. Tomás put two straws in the tall glass and helped her drink it. Their lips almost touched! When they were done, he checked his pocket watch and frowned. "Pollas en vinagre, I need to get you back. Los siento, chiquita," but he still held out his elbow. She took it, thinking he must have some sort of pressing errand to take care of and walked back towards Hester street, but turned too soon to be going to her apartment on Ludlow. The farther off course they got, the more nervous she got. She was from the slums, she understood what happened to girls who went off into dark alleys with strange boys, but he didn't seem like that type. Her heart was pounding when he banged his fist against the boarded up door of a burnt out factory in Lower Manhattan.
"Please, don't do this," she said in a weak whisper. "My brothers and sisters need someone..."
"This is where I was paid to bring you, Chiquita," he said stonily as the door opened. She was still trying to get an answer from Tomas when the cloth filled hand covered her mouth, filling her nose with a acrid scent. It made her mouth water till she drooled. Her nose ran and her eyes teared as her body did everything possible to rid itself of the numbing liquid the cloth was soaked with. The sun went dim and blurry as she fought to break free from the strong arms that held her still and dragged her into the dark factory. The last thing she saw before she gave into the fog was the boy with eyes like moonstones' back as he walked out the door, leaving without her.
Her father's voice calling her name pulled her back out of the fog. "Open your eyes, baby," he cooed. For about five seconds she sighed in relief, she must have fallen asleep finishing her work. She often worked into the night trying to finish all the orders, she must have fallen asleep on the front arm of the loom. But he was still calling her and she couldn't move her arms. They were tied. She struggled and fought, both against the ties around her wrists and the ten pound weights that seemed to be holding down her eyelids. "Elvie, show me you're awright," he insisted.
Finally her eyes opened. Her head was resting on her forearms and she lifted it towards the sound of his voice. "Pop?" she croaked. He was sitting on a chair, his hands tied behind his back and his ankles tied to the chair legs. The room was dark except the part they were in. The one exposed bulb above their heads swung a bit, shedding light on the singed brick walls. "Where is this?"
"Last chance, Gamble," a voice said from behind her. He stayed in the shadows, too far behind for her to see no mater how hard she twisted. "Pay up or we start taking it out of sweet Elvie's fingers. I sure hope you run out of excuses before she runs out of fingers."
"I don't have anything for you!" Pop cried. "I'm down on my luck! I been trying to find work to get you your money, but I ain't found nothing! Please, don't hurt her hands! Mae trained her, her hands is the only thing keeping the kids fed. She's the only hope you have of getting your money."
The faceless voice paused, mulling over what her father said. Pop stared at his lap in shame, refusing to look at her. "Gamble, Gamble, Gamble, what are we going to do with you? You think that just because it's your name you're always going to have a winning hand? How many times are we going to have to learn this lesson? Didn't Mae's passing teach you anything? She held on so long waiting for you to scrape the money together." A sob shuddered out of Elvie's throat as the truth about her mother's death came into the open for the first time. Her father told her that her mother was jumped and died from the injuries, but she didn't. She died in another abandoned building being tortured by the man who paid the blue eyed boy to lead her here. "If you didn't learn from Mae's passing, then you're not going to learn from a few yanked off fingernails or busted knee caps. We're going to have to give you the remedial course on paying your debts so that maybe you wont get yourself into these messes next time."
Her father's eyes went wide and he shook his head frantically. "No, please! Not that. She's just a kid! She's twelve years old!"
Her whole body waited tensely as she waited for whatever was to come. "Twelve years old, twelve lashes. One for each year, so that maybe your father will remember to take your life a little more seriously." The whip whistled as the tip flew through the air, and as the crack hit her ears the first lash licked her skin. Her dress and her skin split and her breath sucked in so hard that it grated her throat raw and stuck in her lungs. "Think about this the next time you take out a loan with me, Rob." The whip flew again, the small tassel of chains jingling, kissing the nape of her neck as she writhed and she felt blood ooze down her shoulders.
The whistle of the flying rope going in for a third strike sent her into a panic. "Wait!" she cried, throwing her head back. The snap sounded and the pain was nothing to the other two lashes as it wrapped over over the crown of her head and onto her face. She collapsed, whimpering, unable to breathe. Her eye wouldn't open, but all she could think about was stopping any further lashes. "Mmmmmoney in my p-p-p-pocket," she whimpered. "Take it. Just please, no more."
Someone roughly dug into her pocket and pulled out the fifty dollars she was paid for the bolt of silk she delivered. "Now you're only twenty five short, Gamble. What do you say, Elvie? You got anymore treasure troves?"
"C-cracker tin, behind the coffee in our kitchen. Please."
"Elvie, that's your money. That's for your supplies! I didn't touch it when your mother was alive and I ain't touching it now!"
"Maybe I would still have a mother if you had!" she screamed roughly. "Family first! Always. That's what she said! Family before work or play."
A harsh laugh rolled out like a crack of thunder. "Smart little thing you've got there, Rob. Must take after Mae. Nine more lashes and then Hollister will take you home to find your cracker tin." Heavy footsteps approached and a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pressing in on the already open, oozing skin. "I hope, for your sake, that you're as smart as I'm giving you credit for, Elvie. If you're lying to me like your father does, I will find much worse things for you than that whip. Do you understand?" She nodded and whimpered and he let her go. "Nine lashes, and Hollister, try to keep it to her back. We want to teach a lesson not disfigure her." She sank into an oblivion of pain as the remainder of the lashes flew. Her mother was strong enough to take this and so was she. Even if her father was weak.
A/N: Hey! So, I know I said I didn't have anything new in the works when I ended My Perfect Disaster...and I didn't then, but when I was writing Trout's little girl Rosie and Skittery interacting during Return To Brooklyn, and he just stuck around in my head. So, his story will be a companion to Joker is Poker with a J's Benjamin Hotel Series. I'm very lucky to have such a talented friend who let me use her beautiful hotel and her sexy, Spanish skip trace. If you read my stories or Joker's you recognize that blue eyed boy already, and I'm ecstatic to have a second chance to use "pollas en vinagre," because of him. Please comment, pretty please, I love interacting with the community and knowing what you think. All comments/follows/favorites are so encouraging!