AN: Warning, one scene with some gore, trauma, spoilers for The Chemical Garden Trilogy by Lauren DeStefano, The Handmaid's Tale by Margret Atwood, and major spoilers for The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (And I mean it this time) .
"She's teaching him to read?"
It was the day after his encounter with Dani, Edrisa had stopped by the office and she and JT started talking, and somehow, they had got on the subject of the aforementioned encounter.
"Yeah, apparently she's planning on keeping him." JT explained.
The coroner still wasn't expecting that. "Wait, what do you mean 'keeping him'?"
"As in buying him from that broker lady on a permanent bias and—well, I don't know what she's going to do after that." JT elaborated.
"Good for him." Edrisa commented, "I mean, it's not the best situation but at least he found himself a home."
"Really?" JT asked, "I got the impression you didn't—"
"Yeah, I thought she was just…using him." Edrisa reasoned, "This changes thing." She was big enough to admit that she had judged the other woman too quickly.
What neither of them realized was, Gil was standing in the doorway of his office, listening to the conversation.
Normally the lieutenant didn't make a habit of eavesdropping on his people's private conversations, but once he realized what they were talking about, he had to see what was going on. Now he was thinking it was a good thing he made an exception.
This wasn't good. If Dani made an offer on Malcolm and Jessica turned her down, the Vice detective was bound to want to know why. It might not bring the whole operation down, but if they were going to get out of this relatively unscathed, they were going to need a plan.
The first step was doing a little more digging to separate fact from fiction before he freaked his girlfriend out for no reason.
"Respectfully boss, he's not a cop." Dani insisted, in Sargent Diyoza's office, "Wiring him is a needless risk."
"No, it's standard procedure." Sargent Diyoza responded firmly, "We wire CIs and witnesses all the time. I see no why reason why he should be any different."
"Sargent, I have to agree with Powell," William spoke up, "We're responsible for this kid and if they catch either of them with a wire—"
"I'm wildly aware of what could happen, Detective." Sargent Diyoza cut him off, hands on the table, "The same thing that could happen to anyone, on any op, if they're caught with a wire." She then looked Dani, "Powell, I thought you were working with the kid. You ensured me he wouldn't give you away."
"He won't." Dani said, "He knows the procedure backwards and forwards." He had actually taken the revelation that would both be wearing wires better than Dani did, hence the current argument.
"Well, then, I'm not seeing what the problem is here." Sargent Diyoza declared, "Look, Powell, if you're loosing your objectivity here—"
"I'm not, Sargent." Dani cut her off, a thrill of panic going through her as she saw where this was going.
"Good." Sargent Diyoza replied, "So, this conversation is done then, correct?"
Meanwhile, Malcolm was watching the whole argument from outside the office glass anxiously. He didn't like it, he could hear raised voices, and everyone looked much too tense, much too angry. He had told Dani he was fine with the wire, and he was, really. He didn't understand why Dani was so upset. Unconsciously, he wrapped his fingers around the sliver-colored chain around his wrist.
He hadn't worn a license since the night of the murder. The bralcet marking him as James Harker's property had been lost while he had been fleeing for his life. It hadn't really bothered him; he had been dealing with too much already. Wearing the bracelet now seemed alien, yet oddly familiar at the same time, and he couldn't stop touching it.
"That bracelet looks kind of loose there."
Malcolm jumped, whirling around, and Peter Ogden standing a few inches away.
"Whoa, there," Peter said, hands in front of the, taking a few steps back, "Sorry, kid, didn't mean to startle you."
"It's quite alright." Malcolm said with a placid smile, "Did you need something, Detective Ogden?"
"Just thought you could use some help over there." Peter said, taking Malcolm's wrist, "May I?"
Malcolm glanced down at his wrist and realized that the bracelet was in fact, quite loose. "Um, yes, thank you."
Peter unlatched the clasp of the bracelet, beginning to mess with the chain. "I remember when I first got my ID bracelet, it was constantly falling off. I bout never managed to fix it."
"Sir?" Malcolm asked, "ID bracelet?"
Peter explained by rolling down one sleeve, revealing a silver-colored bracelet not unlike Malcolm's, except with a red serpent insignia on it. "Just let's people know I'm allergic to penicillin. "Getting back to work he continues to talk, "Runs in the family. When I found out about it, Mom was like 'Um, yeah, your grandfather had that.' Would've been nice to know before my doctor gave me antibiotic with the stuff in it. I mean, clearly they figured it out. "
"Is your brother allergic to penicillin, too?" Malcolm asked tentively, if amicably.
"Wait, how did you— "Peter began, then he realized, "You heard what we said yesterday."
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop." Malcolm said, abashed as he realized what he had just admitted to.
"No, no, that what we get for acting like you're not in the room." Peter said, starting to work on the bracelet again, "And no, I'm the only one in my immediate family's who's allergic. How does that feel? Snug?"
Malcolm felt the weight of the bracelet on his arm for a moment before answering. "Yes." After a beat, he said, "You must be very proud of him."
"Yeah, I am." Peter confirmed, "Stevie, my brother, he's always been a part one though. You know the type that takes things apart to see how they work. This isn't too tight, is it?"
"Excuse me?" Malcolm responded, momentarily thrown by the transition before he realized what the detective was talking about. "Oh, no, it's not, thank you."
"Yeah, don't mention it." Peter said, before saying, "I think I've about got it—" After re-fastening the bracelet he asked, "How does that feel?"
"It feels fine." Malcolm, said before glancing back at the office where Dani and Sargent Dyoiza were still arguing.
"It's going to be alright." Peter assured him, "They'll work it out." After a beat it hit him, "If you heard what I said yesterday, does that mean you heard what Detective Chandler said, too?"
Malcolm nodded.
That was when Gil walked in, spotting Malcolm and the detective. "Excuse me?" He asked, approaching the pair.
"Um, yes, can I help you?" Peter asked, stepping over and in front of Malcolm.
"Arroyo, Major Crimes, from down the hall." Gil introduced himself, "I was hopping I could steal Malcolm for a moment."
"Depends if he wants to be stolen." Peter countered.
"It's alright," Malcolm said, stepping forward, turning his attention to Gil, immediately assuming the worst, "What happened?"
"Nothing like that." Gil assured him, seeing where this was going.
That was when Diyoza screamed from her office, loud enough that it could be heard from the bull pen, "That's enough out of the both of you!"
"Though maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private." Gil suggested, motioning for Malcolm to come with him.
Malcolm followed behind the older man wordlessly.
"Come up here beside me." Gil told him, looking back from whence they came as the young man joined his side, "What was that about?"
"They want to wire me along with Det—with Dani." Malcolm said, "She didn't take it well."
That actually threw Gil for a moment. "Wait a minute, what do you mean they want to wire you?" He demanded before he could stop himself. What do you think, Arroyo? Of course, they want to wire him! In hindsight, the lieutenant realized that he should have expected it. This was no more than standard procedure. "Actually, let's table that for now. Normally I'm not what you call a gossip, but I heard a rumor I wanted to ask you about."
"Sir? A rumor?" Malcolm repeated.
"You remember Detective Tarmel, right?" Gil checked.
"Yes, sir." Malcolm confirmed.
"Well, apparently, Dani told him she intends to buy on after the investigation is over." His eyes darted over to the boy, "You know anything about this, kid?"
Malcolm looked away for a moment. Dani told someone? Why didn't she tell him? They agreed not to tell anyone yet. Well, if was out, he might as well, say it. "She asked me if she could buy me on a more…permanent bias the first night at her apartment."
"And you agreed?" Gil asked, already guessing the answer, but not entirely sure.
Malcolm began to rub his neck, looking away, suddenly feeling like he and Dani were doing something wrong.
"It's alright, I'm not—I'm not mad at you, not mad at anyone." Gil assured him, being acquainted enough with the pet's demeanor to hazard a guess at what was going on in his head, "I'm just…" He trailed off, for a minute, sighed, then tried again. "I just want to make sure you're not being forced into something you don't want to be in because you don't feel like you can't say no." It was an incredibly honest and blunt statement, even with what he was leaving out, but there it was. Heaven knows you've had enough of that your whole life.
His honest answer earned him an honest one back. "No, I-I want to stay." Malcolm said, "I-I- "He broke into a little smile, his face lighting up as he said, "Oh, Sir, I have the best mistress. She is good and kind and mine."
That statement was what opened the floodgates and suddenly unable to stop, Malcolm told Gil everything—well, almost everything. He left out how many times Dani had got up in the middle of the night with him, the things she had told him about her last time undercover, pretending that they were in a romantic relationship. He also decided it probably wasn't a good idea to tell a policeman about Twyla wanting to sneak him across the border, even if Dani had shut her down, both things he had almost forgotten about himself. He did, however, tell Gil about Twyla agreeing to let him stay, how kind both women were, about Blue. About the conversation between him and Dani after call with Gil, when she offered to buy him for keeps. About Dani training him in self-defense and protocol, showing him how to sit in a beanbag chair, how to fold, the academics and the profiling-maybe in a little too much detail because Gil looked increasingly concerned as he rambled on about the victimology of Ed Gene.
"There's some speculation as to whether or not Gene killed his brother too, but I don't think he did because… "Malcolm trailed off as it suddenly hit him that what he was doing that such morbid subject matter wasn't appropriate conversation, nor was his rambling. "My apologizes, I—that was inappropriate." He was becoming too at ease with this man, he decided. He had to remember that Gil wasn't Dani and this wasn't the apartment. …when we go outside you're gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all…
"No, no everything you said was perfectly acceptable." Gil said, honestly still surprised, not at the story, but Malcolm's verbal Diarrhea. The whole three months he had been working with the kid, it normally took prompting to get more than a few sentences from him. "I actually liked hearing it thought…the Gene mini-lecture was a bit unsettling. You seriously could've been a profiler in another life."
"I don't know about that." Malcolm said, still examining the older man carefully. The man was rather stoic, but Malcolm could still pick up a few details. They way he flexed his neck when he defended Malcolm's answer, the way his eyebrows were positioned, the tone of his voice, it didn't see like he was actually mad—but something was off.
"I'm happy for you, kid." Gil told him, recognizing the wheels turning in Malcolm's mind. In fact, if he didn't know what he knew, Malcolm living comfortably with someone who treated him like a person would be the closest thing to happy ending they were going to get. However, he did know what know, which changed everything. "I'm just…I'm just worried, that's all. I won't pretend to know her financial situation, but how is she going to pay for this?"
He may be right. Malcolm thought. While they had made it clear it was beneath them to talk about money, the trainers said it was important to know how much their owners were paying for them. Two hundred thousand dollars was enough to buy a house—not the house their owners would live in—but a considerable amount of money regardless. Of course, that was for a new pet. "Well, she still has the fifteen hundred she was going to use before Miss Whitley offered to just lend me." He reasoned, "And Twyla's sister left me some money…" He knew that on its own it wouldn't make a dent in the cost, at least right now, but with what Dani had, maybe that would make a difference, if she would let him give it to her.
"Back up a minute," Gil requested, "What do you mean she left you money?"
"She gave it to me just before she left." Malcolm confessed, "It was just three hundred and ten dollars, I know it's not much, but…" His voice trailed off before casting his eyes down and pointing out, "Besides, how much could Miss Whitley possibility think she'll get for me anyway? No one wants a defective product. " Who wanted a pet that woke them up in the middle of the night with their screaming? Who jumped when a door slammed? Who kept forgetting the basic etiquette he was taught as a child? In every sense of the term, Malcolm was damaged goods and he knew it.
"Kid, look at me." Gil said, putting a firm but non-threatening hand on Malcolm's shoulder.
I shouldn't said that last part. Malcolm thought, taking a moment before meeting the older man's gauze, I should not have said that.
"You are not a defective product." Gil told him, "Anyone would be lucky to have you. I'd have half a mind to take you myself if you weren't apparently spoken for."
Malcolm's heart swelled at the comment, but it also felt underserved, and his eyes darted away.
"I mean it, Malcolm." Gil insisted before saying, "Now if I go take care of something, could you find your way back to Vice?"
"Yes Sir," Malcolm said with a nod, then turned to leave.
When he arrived back in the office, Dani was at her desk. From the look on her face the conversation with Diyoza hadn't gone her way. Wordlessly, Malcolm walked over, taking a seat beside her. "It's fine." He assured her, "Like you said, it's standard prodcuere, right?"
"Right." Dani tried to shrug it off," Peter said Arroyo took you off. What did he want?"
Malcolm went stiff for a minute. "He knows." He said, "He knows you plan on keeping me after the case. Apparently, he heard Detective Tarmel talking about it."
Dani's stomach dropped. She was worried something like this might happen.
Meanwhile, Ainsely was sitting on the bed, surrounded by the girls and Chester, the male pet who had one arm around Rose Red, all of them peering intently as Ainsely read from a slick-covered paper back. In spite of Violetta's interest in it, she didn't think it would be such a hit, but here they were, somewhere in chapter 11.
"…. Linden had buried his face in my neck. The music is gone; my fingers fumble for string that isn't there. And I know the truth that, if I open my eyes. I'll see the dark bedroom in my lavish prison. But I don't try to free my mind of its hazy state, because the disappointment is too much to take…"
Downstairs, Jessica was on the phone, looking for a way—anyway to get the pets upstairs over the border.
"Please, Lorraine." She hated to beg, but she was pratically pleading by that point, "It's been over a month since California. If this is about what happened with Ainsely, I'm sorry, it won't happen again…"
"This has nothing to do with that." Lorraine Novak cut her off on the other end, though Jessica could swear she heard Sid yelling something in the background, "Your business is still good here. Just not right now. They're still investigating out in California, the first wave of feds just hit Texas, I hear people are already getting arrested." After a beat she said, "Look, I wouldn't do what I'm about to do for just anyone, we don't usually work with these people, but I can give you the number of a pro bono."
"Wait, why don't your usually work with them?" Jessica questioned, "This isn't the Ledge, is it?"
"Heck no." Lorraine declared firmly, "They're just slow. They move pets from safe house to safe house, they can't get 'em out in one day like we do. But it won't cost you anything and as far as know, their operations are still ongoing."
It's better than nothing. Jessica thought, before saying, "Just let me get a piece of paper."
Jessica had just written down the number when Louisa walked into the room. "Mr. Arroyo's outside. Says he needs to see you."
Oh, what now? Jessica thought, turning towards the doorway. Gil showing up, unannounced in the middle of a workday could not mean anything good. "Thank you, Lorraine, I'm afraid I'm going to have to call you back."
Ainsely was still upstairs reading when she heard a lot of movement from downstairs, causing her to lower the book. What was going on down there? "I'll be right back." She assured her audience, setting the book aside and fleeing the room.
"We may have a problem." Gil was telling Jessica as he paced the floor, "Detective Powell wants to buy Malcolm."
"What?" Jessica balked, "What do you mean buy him?"
"Jess, I know you're not an actual broker, but you still know how basic commerce works." Gil said.
This was the scene that Ainsely stepped into, freezing. "Wait, did I just hear what I think I heard? "
"When did this happen?" Jessica continued, barely processing that Ainsley had spoke, "How did this happen?"
"Apparently that first night, he and Dani wound up having a little heart to heart and she just—blurted the idea out." Gil explained, rubbing his temples, "And he agreed to it. He was actually pretty happy about it when I talked to him to see what was going on."
"Could he speak freely when you talked to him?" Ainsely questioned.
"I took him into the hall while Dani was arguing with her sergeant." Gil explained, "He still sang her praises. She's treating him extremely well, especially in comparison to Harker—"
"—Which is a bar so low you could step over it—" Ainsely pointed out.
"—The kid would run through bullets for her." Gil finished.
"But I lent her Malcolm." Jessica insisted, "Lent, as in no money exchanged hands, and she gives him back when the case is closed. That was the agreement. "
"Only if she doesn't pay you." Gil pointed out, "Which I'm assuming is what she plans to do. Malcolm made a point of saying she still had the money she had set aside for this." After a beat he said, "Look, I had some time to think on the way over here and I'm going to say something you two aren't going to want to hear: I think maybe you shouldn't fight her and let her keep him. For now, at least."
"What ?!" Both of the Whitley women screamed almost simultaneously.
"You hate me for saying it, I hate me for saying it." Gil responded, "But when I sent Harker's niece to you, I assumed Woods would cut a deal to avoid going to trial, and he tried, but…now Martin's trial could still take months, yearseven. And now that the precedent's been set, we have to at least consider the possibility that he could be needed if the Brannigan case goes to trial. If you send him before then and they could ask who you sold him to—"
"Yes," Jessica cut him off, "Yes, that could prove problematic." Suddenly the idea of adopting Malcolm was looking better and better.
"And you said it yourself, even if you keep him here until both those cases are wrapped up, you're going to have to find a way to move other pets without him knowing." Gil continued.
"Then we tell him they've just been sold." Ainsely suggested, taking step to the ground level, "You are supposed to be a broker after all, officially anyway. Or, crazy idea I know, we let him in on the big secret so he doesn't spend the next year or whatever just—waiting."
"Oh, Ainsely, we've already talked about why that won't work." Jessica said, turning towards her.
"What, do you think they're going to ask him on the stand if we're running an underground smuggling operation?!" Ainsely exclaimed.
"Maybe not that specific." Gil reasoned, "But if a defense lawyer tries to slip in an irrelevant question about where he's been living while all this has been going on to muddy the waters, imply we coerced him somehow, or if he lets something slip to someone who isn't us—there's a lot of ways this could backfire."
"Well, if this is such a possibility why did you give the niece our contact information?" Ainsely demanded.
"You know why." Gil countered.
"Yeah," Ainsely responded solemnly after a moment, "I know."
James Harker had pretty much burned every bridge with all his relatives, the only one who talked to him being one niece, Emilie Danes-Harker, and even that relationship appeared to be based on the girl using her uncle's money and connections. When she showed up at the station Gil barely had time to offer his condolences before she was inquiring about how long they would need access to Malcolm, stating flat out that she had no use for the pet and planed on sending him back to the kennel, rationalizing they would "find him a good home." Knowing that was a crock and what would happen if he was sent back, Gil hastily suggested selling Malcolm instead, giving him Jessica's number. In the end, greed won out over apathy.
"Even if it weren't for all this," Gil continued, "If you refuse to sell to her, Dani's going to want to know why. Look, he's not being harmed, Powell's treating him like an actual person, he's even got a little money of his own, apparently."
"How—" Jessica began.
"Apparently her roommate's sister left it for him." Gil explained, "Dani's also taken it upon herself to teach him how to read. Look, I'm not saying we leave him with her forever. Just—agree to her terms, then when it's safe we find another way to extract him. How exactly, I haven't got that far yet."
Jessica didn't say anything for a minute. Gil did raise some decent points and she hated the idea of Malcolm just languishing in the townhouse, maybe for years apparently, awaiting an uncertain fate.
Ainsely whirled around to face her mother. "Mom, you can't—you can't actually be considering this?"
"I just—" Jessica began, hands raised, then she set them down, "I'll at least think about it, but if a better option comes along—"
"Not like you need my permission." Gil said, desperate for any idea.
Ainsely looked between the two of them. "I can't believe what I'm hearing!"
"Like I said, we're just thinking about it." Jessica said, "That's all."
"Just think—" Ainsely began, scoffed, then stomped back up the stairs.
She got back upstairs, grabbing at her hair and groaning through gritted teeth, frustrated. That was when one of the maids, acting as if nothing was going on, carrying several dry paper draped clothing packages. Seeing them, Ainsely, got an idea.
"Hey, Rosa," Ainsely called out, overtaking the young woman, "I can take those for you."
Ainsely was deliberate in the suits she picked, two that wouldn't be missed if they disappeared for a little bit, even with a male pet in the house, and one simple black and white suit that Malcolm seemed to like, or at the very least he seemed to wear a lot so maybe he liked it. It was hard to get his preference on things.
It wasn't that she didn't trust Gil when he told them Malcolm was fine. In truth, there was something relieving in hearing he was being treated well enough he wanted to stay, even if some part of her couldn't shake her suspicions. But she couldn't let what Gil was suggesting, what was her mother was actually thinking about doing happen without a fight. If she could just talk to Malcolm, she knew she could make him see sense.
Taking her selections, she put the remaining suits in the closet, she hurried to stash them in her room before anyone caught and heard a voice from across the hall, "…She's a little girl playing mother. Playing house. And maybe it's all the painkillers in my system, but I just adore her…"
It took her a moment to realize where it was coming from.
"What the—" Ainsely began in disbelief before turning around and walking towards the bedroom she had left the pets.
Creeping down the hall she peaked her head in, and found Angel, now cleaned up, her curls done in a simple braid, dressed in lavender embroidered with violet fleur-di-lis, reading from the book. "…This mansion is her perfect dream house. Nobody is supposed to be hurt. Everything is happy ever after…" She trailed of when she saw Ainsely standing in the doorway.
For a moment Ainsely just stared there, staring at the scene, gobsmacked. She had seen a lot of things in this operation, but she had never encountered another pet who could read. Finally getting her bearings back she said, "Oh, don't stop on my account. I have a few more things to take care, I'll be back with you in a minute."
Ainsely made it to her room at last, stowing the purloined suits in the closest before walking over to one of her drawers and pulling it open. Off to one side was a pile of wrapped candies: cheap hard candies, pricier chocolates, a few pieces that were in-between. Pets were apprehensive about the forbidden food at first, some of them even fearful to take it. She even had a few break down crying on her. But it was normally a good way to show them she was on their side.
Putting the treats in her blazer, Ainsely turned to leave when it hit her: With Angel reading to the others, she had some unexpected time to prepare. Walking to the mirror, she began to talk in, "Malcolm, we need to talk, " Shaking her head and deciding that wasn't right, she tried again, "Malcolm, there's something I need to ask you…"
After several fruitless minutes, Ainsely returned to the other bedroom. Angel was now several chapters passed where she had left, and the other three were surrounding her, enthralled, and Ainsely couldn't help but smile. She always liked this part, watching them become so absorbed in a story, minds opened up to new possibilities.
She still remembered the first time Jessica read to her. It was an illustrated book of Grimm's fairy tales, the original stories with all the gory bits. She had never heard stories like those before, and she could feel the way they wound haunt her before they had even finished.
When Angel seemed to be at relatively good stopping point, Ainsely cleared her throat, getting the girls attention. "You want me to take over?"
Angel looked up, lowering the book. "Yes, of course."
Ainsley sat back down, reclaiming the book and beginning to read, "Nineteen. We wait and we wait. I want to look away, and I think Linden does too, as this white infant, bloody and still…"
It took less than half an hour to finish the book. Say what you want about the quality of the books, they were fast reads. Getting Angel alone wasn't as easy as Ainsely had hopped, as they all lingered in the room for a while. In the end she excused herself, hopping to get the girl alone when she came back.
Ainsely approached the doorway and found Angel lying out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, letting out a sniffle. "Hey," Ainsely called out, alerting the other girl to her presence.
Wiping her face Angel sat up, trying to hide that she had been crying. "Ainsely…"
"The others around anywhere?" Ainsely asked, stepping into the bedroom.
"I think Violetta had to use the ladies' and Rose Red went off to Chester in their room." Angel explained.
There's something I definitely need to check on. Ainsely thought. They tried to keep boys and girls in separate bedrooms, usually not a problem as male pets weren't as common. The girls and Malcolm's decision to co-sleep drove them to distraction trying to put an end to it until they decided to just let them be. However sometimes when the house was this full, co-ed sleeping arrangements were the only option. Plus, Chester and Rose Red refused to be separated; he had become very protective of her during their time in Carl's keeping. "Mind if I sit down for a moment?"
"Certainly." Angel agreed.
Ainsely sat down on the bed, pulling out a chocolate wrapped in shinny red foil, putting it in her hand and holding it out to Angel. "Here." When the other girl just looked at it, unsure, Ainsely said, "It's alright, it's just a cherry cordial."
"I shouldn't." Angel said, looking away, "It's not a food on our diet."
"It's not on anyone diet." Ainsely said, before pulling out another cordial, unwrapping and biting into it, her mouth filling with the thick, surgery sauce.
At last Angel took the offered candy, beginning to unwrap it.
Ainsely got right to her point. "Angel, who taught you to read?"
Angel thickly swallowed the bite she had in her mouth, looking like it had just turned to ash in there, before doing a staring contest with the remaining half. "It was Rex," She answered finally, "My…my boyfriend."
Ainsely didn't know what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that . "Wait, what? When did he do this?"
"The girls had to make a run and they left me at the house." Angel said, "He offered me some coffee, but I told him it wasn't allowed. He thought that was ridiculous but she found some old green tea in the cabinet anyway. It wasn't the best cup I've ever had."
In spite of herself, Ainsely had to fight back a laugh at the way she had said it.
"We were in the kitchen, talking and he's telling me about his apprenticeship," Angel continued, "He's studying to be a Plummer, there can be good money in that, he's almost ready to go out on his own—then he starts asking me. What kind of schooling does it take to become a pet. I think he thought we just—signed up for it, or something. That was how it came out I couldn't read. After that, whenever Pamela, the congressman's daughter would bring me and he was there, he would—make any excuse to whisk me away, and he began teaching to me read. Said it was a scandal that a proper lady like me was uneducated."
I'm sure he did. Ainsely thought. "It's alright if you don't want to talk about it, but how long after that was it until he…." Her voice trailed off.
"Until he what?" Angel said, genuinely perplexed by the question.
Ainsely had found in her experience that pets who were abused often didn't want to talk about it, at least at first, so she chose her words very carefully. "When he started…engaging in relations with you."
Angel stilled for a moment, then a look of dawning comprehension crossed her face. "No, no, " She said finally, shaking her head, "No, he…Rex was a complete gentlemen the entire time. " She shook her head again, and for a minute, Ainsely thought the girl was going to start pleading to be returned to her lover again. Instead she changed the subject. "I'm sorry, you never told me how you learned to read."
Ainsley's heart lept into her throat, pounding. Yeah, I kind of stepped into that one. "Mo—Miss Whitely mainly she hired private tutors."
"But why would she do that?" Angel asked, tilting her head, "Why do it at all?"
The world seemed to tilt under Ainsley's feet; her heart wouldn't stop pounding and thought the job wasn't done she wanted to be anywhere but in this room, having the conversation. "I'm sorry, I need to check on the others." She said, getting up and going as fast as her heels would take her.
Ainsely spent the rest of the day in and out of a haze of memories of those first days, not all of them, good. Of the old man, his hands all over her. Of the old woman, pratically pure fury, screeching and grabbing at her and dragging her upstairs roughly by the arm, calling her a little hussy and telling her shut up as she cried, asking what she had done wrong. Of curling up in the corner of the guess room, petrified, the demonic dragons in the William Blake copy above the bed threatening to devour her. Of going from Eleven to Babydoll, to Ainsely, as Babydoll is not proper name. All in the space of a day. Of a sleepless night trying to process what just happen, figure out just what she was suppose to be now. Of Jessica and Ainsely treading so carefully around each around other, neither of the knowing what they were doing, trying to become a family, just not quite sure how.
Ainsely had been like them once. She had been scared and confused. She had even been in love once, well, she had, had a teenage girl's infatuation.
At least it distracted her from the Malcolm situation. That evening at the dinner table, what needed to be done began stabbing at her mind, fighting with the old memories for headspace as she picked at the fish steak on her plate.
Watching her daughter moving food around but not actually putting a bite in mouth, Jessica became increasingly concerned. At last she spoke. "Ainsely, your miles away. Is something wrong?" When Ainsely glanced up but said nothing, she hazard a guess at what the problem was. "It's this situation with Malcolm and the detective, isn't it?"
"No, no it's not that." Ainsely denied, finally cutting off a forkful of fish. Not completely, at least…
Jessica wasn't convinced. "Well, if it'll help I think I might have come up with a slightly better solution. I'll simply—meet her halfway, let her hang on to Malcolm during the trail, no money exchanging hands, then make her see sense after with her being none the wiser. I grant you it isn't ideal…" She hated the idea of Malcolm getting attached to this woman only to be ripped away, even if it was for his own good. Hopefully the drug investigation gave her time to come up with something better.
Still picking Ainsely decided to be honest. Mostly. "It's not that." She repeated, "Not just that, anyway. After Gil came over, I went to check on our guests upstairs and found Angel, the girl from Connecticut, had picked up where I left off. She was reading to the others. "
Jessica's reaction was similar to her daughter's : surprise.
"I talked to her about it after we finished the book. According to Angel her 'boyfriend' "Ainsely put air quotes around the word with one hand, "Taught her to read."
"Oh," Was all Jessica could think to say at first, adding, "Well, that's a new one." However, it made her think back to a conversation she had with Kessie, Dr. Sanders nurse, after the newcomers' examinations the day before.
"Now you're the one that's miles away." Ainsely noted.
"It's just that…when you me there was a man involved I warned Kessie that some more –sensitive exams might be in order, if Angel was up to it." Jessica admitted, "As I was gathering everyone to leave, Kessie tore into me for lying to her and putting the poor girl through that needlessly. When she realized I truly had no clue what she was talking about she told me that…Angel's a virgin."
It was a good thing the day's events had destroyed Ainsley's appetite, because if she had been eating something she would've immediately spit it out. "What do you mean she's a virgin?!"
"Ainsely, please don't make me pull out the anatomy book." Jessica responded, "Kessie used more technical terms, but the point is, unless it happened without it breaking it, which is a possibility…" Her voice trailed off, having made her point, "But that's not what's on your mind, is it?"
"No," Ainsely admitted, glancing down, "No, it all— She asked me a about how I learned to read and it all got me thinking about…those early days. "
Jessica froze for a second. "Oh," She said, "I see." She knew those first few days, those first months of adjustment, had not been easy on the girl.
Changing the subject, Ainsely asked, "Hey, could you handle things here if I went out for a bit after dinner?"
Jessica knew Ainsely was trying to change the subject, just like she had been taught, but let her anyway. "So long as you actually eat dinner." Jessica said, "So, where are you going?"
"Just—need to make a quick run." Ainsely said, "I'll only be about an hour or so." She took a bite of fish, hopping to end the conversation.
Excusing herself as soon as possible, Ainsely managed to smuggle out the suits, hailing a cab. Stepping inside, she took a deep breathe before giving the driver directions.
Neither of them saw Max Webster, in a nondescript black car, following behind.
Meanwhile, with everyone back home for the night, Malcolm was in the kitchen with Twyla, tearing up the leftover bacon and tossing it in a pan with the leftover potatoes Twyla was dicing, glancing back every so often at Dani, who was sat Indian-style on the floor, pictures and case files sprawled around her.
"Don't bother, Bright Eyes." Twyla told him, "I've seen her in this mode before. We'll probably need to drag her over here to get some food in her."
While she had managed to close out most of her case load—thought when didn't she had a case load—there were a few stubborn cases that she was still trying to close before she had to give in and hand over to other cops. She just wish she could get the overtime so that she could work in an official capacity. Working on her off-hours, while permissible, left her options somewhat limited.
Twyla pulled at the white, ankle length skirt she was wearing. "Ugh, I hate these things." She groaned, "Hey, Mal, would mind watching this while I go change? I promise I'll just be minute, I just can't stand to be in this thing a minute longer."
"Sure." Malcolm agreed, taking the offered spatula.
"Alright, just stir it around every once in a while, I promise I won't be long." Twyla said, backing away, "You got this!"
Dani was so engrossed in her work, she didn't notice the exchange. In fact, she didn't realize anything was going on until she caught the faintest smell of smoke from the kitchen and Malcolm going, "No, no, no, no!"
Dani jutted her up and saw Malcolm in the kitchen, wrenching a skillet from the wrenching the skillet from the burner, and turning it off, putting it on the counter and fanning light whisps of smoke.
Dani lept up, rushing into the kitchen just as Twyla sprinted down the hall. "Is everyone alright?! She exclaimed, silently received to not find the huge kitchen fire she had pictured in her mind, when she heard the commotion.
"Yeah, it's just a lot of smoke, " Dani said, fanning it away.
"I am so sorry, Twyla." Malcolm spoke up, feel guilty about letting her down. Twyla had trusted him for a just a minute and he couldn't do this one thing!
"Hey, you think this the first time anything's been burned around here?" Twyla quipped, "You didn't even set off the smoke alarm. " As if to demonstrate, she grabbed a fork and but a forkful in her mouth, chewing and swallowing, "She? Perfectly edible."
Even with her assurances, the skin around Malcolm's eyes became heavy, terribly embarrassed, the small fracas caused by the possibility of a fire not helping.
Seeing that it looked like Malcolm was about to cry, Dani took him her arms saying, "It's okay, it was an accident. This is nothing."
There was almost something funny about the whole thing. Dani did her best not let Malcolm see her laugh.
With that settled, they set down to the meal, sitting in mostly silence, sprinkled with small talk. Even slightly blackened, the hash was still tasty. Still, sticking a slice of potato in her mouth, Twyla momentarily made a blink-and-you'd -miss it face, Malcolm couldn't help but feel guilty again.
Swallowing one of the more charged bits, Twyla caught the sorrowful look on Malcolm's face. "You seriously couldn't have just caught that." She turned to Dani, "He seriously couldn't have just caught that."
"Oh, he seriously can ." Dani confirmed, "Apparently the kennel he comes from trained them all in body language skills and he excelled at it."
"I'll say." Twyla gapped, impressed.
Simultaneously embarrassed and oddly warmed by the praise, Malcolm looked away, blushing. "It's really not that impressive. "Any other pet from my training center could probably do it."
"I don't buy that." Twyla insisted, "If it weren't for the circumstances, this case could be the making of you."
"She's right Mal." Dani agreed. If Malcolm was some rookie and they actually pulled this off, he would seriously impress some of the higher ups, paying dividends for his career. Of course, he was just now old enough to even be eligible for the NYPD to hire…
That was when it hit her that Malcolm still wasn't eligible nor would he likely ever be. There was also a requirement of 60 collage credit or two years active service, neither of which Malcolm had, and it was doubtful any of his pervious owners would've even allowed him to try. Dani wouldn't stop him, heck, she'd even help him apply if he wanted, but what happened when the realized what he was? That he didn't have a social security number, or school records, or—well, technically he did have something that resembled a birth certificate in his papers, but how far would that get them? Soon she found herself simultaneously seething and trying to figure out the problem at the same time.
On the other side of the table, the 'circumstances' had hit Twyla as well, causing her to stab at her food in anger. In front of her was a fellow image barer of God, a sweet, brilliant boy , who should have a bright future ahead of him but because of how he came into this world, was pigeon- holed into a half-life, not even having basic rights. Suddenly she was fighting the urge to throw something.
Seeing the wheels turning in the women minds and knowing nothing good was going on up there, Malcolm tried to find a safer subject, "That's , um, an interesting shirt, Twyla." He said, gesturing to the t-shirt she had changed into, "I like it. I've never really seen anything like it before."
It wasn't an exaggeration. The shirt was short-sleeved, gray, with an illustration, almost a painting, of a girl in an icy blue dressed watched a man riding a horse in a meadow next to the tree, the scenes all blues and violet purples and red from the man's cape. Icy blue writing was printed above and below the picture, and Malcolm almost absent-mindedly began trying to read it. "Jane Ey-ey-r-"
" Jane Eyre. " Both Dani and Twyla said at the same time.
Malcolm's ears perked up at the name. "Janis actually mentioned that novel." He said, "Well, she said the age different between me and Dani might put people off but it worked for some people named Jane and Rochester and at least Dani didn't have any crazy husbands in the attic."
Dani snorted, nearly choking on her water, somewhat mortified, but the comment was too funny for her to care. "When did this happen?"
"You were still asleep." Malcolm explained, "When I didn't know what she was talking about she told me Twyla could tell her more than she could."
"It's a novel by Charlotte Bronte about an orphan who's put through the wringer serval times, and then gets a job as a governess, basically a nanny, falls in love with her boss, then it out his wife who he told Jane was dead is actually alive, she's just crazy, so he locked her in the attic, which to be fair at the time was actually one of the nicer fates for a crazy person, so Jane leaves, then the wife dies in a fire, Jane inherits a lot of money , and Rochester, that's the guy she's in love with, is injured in a riding accident so they're more equal now apparently. So they get married and everyone lives happily ever after." Twyla summarized, " Except for poor Bertha."
"Bertha?" Malcolm repeated.
"The crazy wife." Dani spoke up.
Twyla became gravely serious, reaching out for Malcolm's hand. "Listen, Bright Eyes, I'm going to tell you something." She began, "If you find a special lady and she hides a husband from you? Under absolutely no circumstances do you take her back you understand me? I don't care if she divorces him or he dies afterward; you can't trust her after that. Promise me, Malcolm, you won't ever take someone who does you like that back."
Something about her intensity sent a chill up Malcolm's spine. "I promise." He breathed.
Watching the scene Dani couldn't help but think about what Twyla had told her about her last relationship before she left Memphis. He never had a ring, never had a tan line from a ring….
"Good." Twyla said, relieved, before going back to her meal while still talking, "Now, my sister make any other book recommendations?"
"I don't know if it's a book or not, but do you know what the Great Gatsby is?" Malcolm asked.
Twyla nearly chocked on the potatoes in her mouth. "Do I –" She managed to sputter.
Here we go. Dani thought, her eyes darting between her two roommates.
"…Of course they don't want you knowing about that one." Twyla said finally, "Okay, eat up quickly, because the minute you're finished we're taking a trip to my room."
It was Malcolm's first time ever being in Twyla's room. He had caught sight of it, sure, using the bathroom or going to Dani's room, but this was his first time actually stepping inside . He stood between the bed and the dresser, just staring at the bookshelf.
"Ah, Mal?" Twyla began, "I'm behind you, I can't get up there until you move your rump."
"Sorry," Malcolm apologized, moving up before crouching down in front of the book shelf, running a finger down a black spine with white lettering, " You've actually read all of these?" Almost awe-struck he repeated the process, feasting his eyes on each of the spine, feeling the edges almost sensually.
"Most of them." Twyla confessed, "I normally get rid of them when I'm done, thrift stores, used book stores that offer credit, but there are a few I like to keep around, mostly special editions, a few that I just really loved and want to read again at some point." After a beat she asked. "Do you need a moment alone with the books?"
Malcolm however, didn't even process that anyone had spoke, so seized he didn't think as he slid out one of the first ones. It was completely black, except for the white writing and a little ink drawing of a woman in a bizarre billowy red dress, her head draped with a white bonnet. Opening it somewhere in the middle, to his surprise he found not words, thought there were words artfully printed on the page and in little bubbles, but illustrated pictures. The fairy tale book that Ainsely would read to them had pictures, yes, but, not the like this. The whole book was made of scenes of streets and houses and soldiers of some kind and women in strange blue frocks with veils, green smocks, red smocks, in colors so vivid he thought his fingers were going to come away stained.
"Well, it's not the right one, but you have good taste." Twyla commented, coming up behind him.
Malcolm lept, startled, then looking down at the pictures realized what he had done. "I'm so sorry—" He said , closing the book.
"Hey," Twyla cut them off, "I wouldn't have invited you in here if I wasn't okay with you looking. Though the two of us should definitely never be let loose in a book store together." With that she got down in the floor with Malcolm, who began flipping through the book again. "This is the graphic novel version that came out a few years ago, but there is a …I guess regular novel version that came first."
"The woman in bonnet and the red dress, who she?" Malcolm asked, "The dark haired one." There were many red-dressed women in this story, but it seemed to be following one, who, in the precious few panels her hair was down, had strait, flowing inky dark tresses.
"That's—a bit complicated." Twyla admitted, "You see, a…totalitarian regime that really don't understand how we're suppose to love unbelievers changed her name to Offred, but the author chose to never tell us what her actual name was. A lot of people theorize that it's June by process of elimination…"
Sd Twyla talked, Malcolm turned the page, freezing at what he saw. It was chaos, dozens of women, a shard with soldiers, completely white except the huge splash of red.
For a few moments he was teleported from the room and found himself staring at his hands, covered in dark red gore, shaking. He looked down and saw his master, the blood flowing from everywhere, even his eyes were red….
Just as suddenly he was taken, he was returned to Twyla's bedroom, slamming the book shut and scurrying to place it back in its home.
"Hey," Twyla said, carefully moving closer, "What just happen? Do I need to get Dani?" She didn't think Dani had fill her in on everything, but she knew enough to get the picture. She couldn't believe she had been so stupid? When she realized he had picked up a book with such brutality in it, she should have steered him away.
"I don't—know." Malcolm admitted, "It's only happened a few times, usually random. But this time…"
"It was the blood." Twyla guessed.
"Yes." Malcolm nodded, still not meeting her gaze, "I'm fine; there's no need to bother Dani."
Just then Blue padded into the room, stopping in front of them in mewling as if in solidarity with Malcolm's distress. He reached out and began rubbing the cat's head.
"Sweetie, she wouldn't—"Twyla began, then decided to just let that go, "Do you need to stop, take a minute?"
"No, I—I think I actually need to go on." Malcolm said, still stroking Blue, "I need to…" He trailed off, not knowing how to put it into words. The need for just one normal thing.
Twyla nodded her understand, though for slightly different reasoning. When her mother had been at war with her own body—when she was loosing that war—sometimes she just needed to talk about anything but the multi-ton African Elephant in the room. However the girl was so shaken pulled the wrong book off the shelf, staring at half the face of a teenage girl, leaned up against large pale green leaves, the photographer reflected in her eye.
"Is that Gatsby?" Malcolm asked, remembering why they had come in the first place.
"No, her name's Tally." Twyla said, "I grabbed Uglies by mistake. In spite of it being the Ws and Gatsby being in the Fs. A lot people think The Hunger Games started the dystopia craze, and while that certainly got the ball rolling," She broke into a grin, "But this here, this is the OG YA dystopia."
I think I understood some of that. Malcolm thought, edging closer to look at the color. "Why would anyone call her ugly?" The girl in the photo was bit plain perhaps, but certainly not ugly by any stretch of the imagination.
Twyla's heart began to beat a bit faster in excited. "Strap in Bright Eyes; I'm about to take you on a wild ride."
And so, as Malcolm was distracted by more and more of the books Twyla indulgently filled his head with filled his head with tales of society where everyone underwent surgery to become obscenely beautiful when they came of age…leaving their minds empty, of outcast who destroyed their whole town in fire, of persecuted Androids and Specials and deceives and false religions and faux animals; of vapid societies where books were burned and stories had to remembered and told in secret. Soon, they had all but forgotten what they came there for, the flashback a distant nightmare.
"She looks like a pet." Malcolm said, staring down at a beautiful girl in fancy backless green dress that fell in ruffles, surrounded by her own reflections.
"She does?" Twyla asked, having never thought out of it that way before.
That was when Blue, who as cats are want to do had since come and gone, walked into the room, followed by Dani who stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame. "Everything okay in here?" The pair had been gone so long she got a little worried; also oddly agitated.
"Yeah, yeah we just got a little distracted." Twyla admitted, before glancing down at the copy of The Selection between them, "You know, it just hit me; I read a lot of dystopia." She then commented more to herself, "Of course, I never thought we'd actually be living one…"
As if to prove Twyla didn't read only dystopia, when Malcolm put the book back he pulled out another covered with an imposing castle implicating by lightening cracking in a dark night sky. "Frankenstein ?" He guessed.
"Yeah." Twyla confirmed, surprised he knew.
So was Dani. "How did you—" She began.
"Remember how I told Ainsely, Miss Whitley's personal pet, taught us letters?" Malcolm reminded her, "Well, before she started doing that, she read to us. I'm not sure where she learned to read, I supposed Miss Whitley saw fit to have to her educated. Anyway, Frankenstein was one of them. Poor Eve had nightmares about it for days, it scared her half to death." Just speaking about it, he could feel her face burry into his shoulder again, even though Ainsely had asked them to try to look at the words.
He remembered the story effecting his own dreams. A jaundiced giant beating him black and blue. Being hanged for a crime he didn't commit, like Justine. He found himself hopping that one wasn't prophetic.
Twyla spoke up, "Wait, wait, wait. I feel like I missed something important—okay maybe a few things. Who is Eve?"
"Another pet who was in Jessica's custody." Dani explained, before looking to Malcolm again, "How often did this happen?"
"About maybe four, five times before she started with letters, three books." Malcolm answered, "Frankenstein, Grimm's Fairytales, the original versions, The Count Of Monte Christo. I liked that one the best."
"Personally I always found Dantes a little creepy." Twyla commented, "That whole thing with Haydee, you know? Plus, the mass destruction thing."
"And Victor isn't creepy?" Malcolm countered.
"Oh, Victor is a complete tool." Twyla agreed, pulling an unexpectedly large white book, "Here we are The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald. The Barnes & Noble edition with other classics from the author."
Malcolm looked over the book. It was decorated with gold and sliver, an old time car in between blocks of text. "What's it about?" He asked, " They never really got that far, because they kept getting distracted.
"Well, the interesting his, it's actually told from the point of view of a friend of the main character, Nick." Twyla, began "Who's also the cousin of the lady Gatsby in love with, Daisy, who's kinda awful.
"So are the half the other people in that book." Dani, who had to read it in high school, commented.
"You might be on to something there, Danno." Twyla agreed, before meeting Malcolm's eyes, "I need you to make another promise for me, Bright Eyes. You find that special someone. Don't cheat on her. Never cheat on her."
"Everybody is cheating on everybody else in this book." Twyla confirmed, "Tom's cheating on Daisy with Myrtle who's cheating on George with Tom and Daisy is cheating on Tom with Gatsby, and then Daisy accidently hits Myrtle with Gatsby's car and Tom tells George Gatsby did it ,which to be fair it's implied he actually believed to be the case…" She sighed, "It's just a mess. I mean, there's a lot more going on here, but there is a lot, like, a lot of cheating. "
"I guess the very rich really are different from you and me." Dani commented, before looking down at Malcolm and suddenly the paraphrase changed meaning.
"And how." Twyla commented, realizing what was going on in her roommate's mind. That was when she caught a particular title out of the corner of her eye, but she hesitated to get it off the shelf, considering what happened earlier.
However, Malcolm caught her. "What is it?"
"Nothing, I just—saw something that when you're in a better place may or may not be right up your ally." Twyla admitted, pulling it out.
Malcolm watched as a small black tome was sat in front of him. In the front in shady gray was some sort of hotel or in sometime with a red glowing sign, and a title in shadowy red letters. "Ps-Psy—"
"Psycho ." Twyla read for him, "Most people don't' even realize there is a book. Of course maybe it would've help if Hitchcock hadn't bought every copy he could get his hands on so no one would know the ending until they saw the film version. I wonder what he actually did with all those." After a beat she got back on subject, "Anyway, the killer, Norman, he's—apparently loosely based on Ed Gein, and I know that's kind of your thing…"
"Unfortunately, it's a bit out of my reading level right now." Malcolm quipped, smiling, as if it didn't bother him.
"Well, " Twyla said, grabbing the book and standing up, "Let's see what we can do about that. Dani, where's that copy of Beauty And The Beast I gave you?"
That was how they were. Dani in the floor, once again surrounded by case files, while Twyla took over for the night with Malcolm on the futon. " She did not answer at first, for she was a-fraid of making him angry. At last however, she said, 'No, Beast'." He read aloud.
Dani looked up and just watched a minute. He was making progress, better comprehension, getting more words. There was something strangely satisfying, watching his small victory, but there was also just strange little…pit in her chest, watching him reading with someone else.
A pit that made no sense to her.
That was when Malcolm caught her looking. Embarrassed, she quickly turned away, going back to her work. Malcolm almost asked, about it, in the end couldn't bring himself to ask it, going back to the story, "The poor monster gave such a great sigh, the whole palace shook. Then he said, 'God night, Beauty,' and left the room. For three months, Beast visited Beauty every night at nine. Each day, Beauty discovered some new quality in the monster, and seeing him so often…"
That was when they were interpreted by a rapping on the door paired with a young woman's voice calling out. "Hello? Detective Powell? "
Malcolm's head jutted up in surprise. It couldn't be. Could it? What would she possibility be doing here?
"Who's that?" Twyla asked, as Dani got up to the get the door, "And how does she know you and where you live?"
"Not sure.' Dani admitted with a shrugged before cracking the door open, leaving the chain latched. To her surprise she found a certain blonde that while she only met once, recognized, sending off alarm bells and simultaneously perplexing the detective with her presence. "Ainsely, right?"
"Yes, sorry, if this is a bad time, " Ainsely apologized, "It just occurred to me that I could bring over few things over that you might find helpful with—sorry, I don't think you want me revealing your business to all you neighbors, may I come in? I was also hopping to speak to Malcolm."
"Ah, sure," Dani said somewhat awkwardly, unlatching the chain and letting her in, "Twyla this is Ainsely—well, Ainsely. She's a—friend of Malcolm's. Ainsely, these are my roommates, Twyla, and well, you already know Malcolm."
"Please, to meet you." Ainsely smiled, watching as Malcolm got to his feet, "Malcolm, it's good to see you again. You look well." She was relieved and a bit surprised to see his condition, good shape, in what looked to be someone's idea of business causal. Remembering why she came here, or rather the official story, she said, "I, ah, brought some suits we had over at the house. No one's really using them right now, and I know the NYPD doesn't have all the money in the world, so I helped this might help you keep up appearances."
"Ah, thanks." Dani said, taking the bundle from her, not sure what else to do. This kind of thing had never really happened before. She wasn't even sure this was allowed. Then again, Ainsely was right; even for undercover operations, they didn't have a huge clothing budget.
"I was also hopping to have a few minutes alone with Malcolm." Ainsely requested nervously, "I promise, I wouldn't keep him that long."
Suddenly, Malcolm's words from that first full day entered Dani's mind. …it can't be easy for her, caring for people she knows will be gone soon, that she'll never see again… "Twy, weren't we going to take some stuff to the laundry room?"
"Ah, sure," Twyla said, clearly not sure about this as she stood up, "Just let me go get it."
The two pets just stared at each other, shifting awkwardly. Even though it hadn't been a week since they last saw each other, it somehow felt like years had past and at the same time, yet simultaneously no time at all. Twyla hurried back in with the laundry basket and they woman preceded to leave.
"We're be just downstairs if you need anything." Dani advised, eying Malcolm before leaving.
Ainsely paused, gathering what she was going to say. Even though she had, had almost an entire day and the cab ride over here to plan what she was going to say, all she blanked out for a moment. She opened her mouth to speak when suddenly Malcolm threw himself at her and she found herself cocoon in a tight embraced. "Oh," She uttered, "Okay." This is unexpected.
"Sorry," Malcolm said, still not letting her go, breathing the simple smell of her perfume, "I just thought I'd never see you again." And I missed you more than I realized it seems. While he may not share the same bond with Ainsely that he had with the other girls, he still cared for her. Finally pulling back, he got his bearings enough to ask, "Would you like to sit down?"
"Thank you." Ainsely agreed letting herself be lead over to the futon, and sitting down. As she put a hand in her blazer her eyes darted over to the box by the furniture with Malcolm's name scribbled, neatly folded bedding stacked on top of clothes. "I, brought you something." She said, pulling out a paper wrapped sucker.
"Thank you." Malcolm replied, taking the offered candy and putting it in his pocket. Unable to keep them in any longer, questions began pouring from his mouth. "Are you alright? How are the girls? Are they—"
"Malcolm, Malcolm, calm down." Ainsely cut him off calmly, "I came here tonight because there was something I need to ask you and I don't know how much time we have." With that she got right to her point, "I heard that Detective Powell plans on buying you to keep. Is that true?"
It took a moment to process what she just asked. "How did you find out? Does Miss Whitley know? Did she send you over here?" First Gil knew, now this? Did half of New York know?
"My owner doesn't even know I'm here." Ainsely admitted, "I was just concerned, particularly when I heard you actually agreed to this?"
"Of course I did." Malcolm confirmed, as if it was no-brainer.
Even though she already knew it, hearing it from Malcolm's mouth was something different. "Have you lost your mind?" She demanded, fighting to keep her voice at an even level.
"Wanting live with a kind, intelligent, trustworthy woman who treats me well?" Malcolm snarked, "Yes, I must be completely out of mind."
"These women aren't like the people we were meant for." Ainsely declared.
"Do you really think I'm that shallow?" Malcolm responded, insulted, backing away, " That I would," He stood up, "Throw everything away over a little lost comfort?" In truth, he didn't think he was sacrificing that much comfort. Sure, he may be sleeping in the living room, but he was safe, warm, with people who cared about and he cared about back. "Is that really what you think of me?"
Ainsely realized she made a grave error. "I didn't mean it that way." She backtracked calmly.
"Well, then what did you mean?" Malcolm challenged turning around from where he had been pacing.
"Just that there are… things you haven't considered." Ainsley said, needing a minute to compose herself.
"Like what?" Malcolm challenged. When Ainsely didn't answer, he felt agitation and anger rising in him, "Don't treat me like an idiot, Ainsely! Or worst, like I'm fresh from the training center!"
"I'm not…" Ainsely began, then tried again, standing up, "Alright, so, she keeps you. What happens then? What happens after this case is over and she doesn't need you anymore?"
That stopped Malcolm from a minute because, well, it was actually a good question. "I've been learning things…" He stammered finally, "I can still help…we'll figure something out!" His frustration and anger hit a fever pitch. "We all can't be you, and get a good owner right from the start!"
That hit Ainsely like a stab to the gut, and hurt turned into seething anger. "Don't you dare." She warned, her continence darkening, her voice dropping several octaves, "Don't you dare think you know anything about where I came from. I bought from the training center by a man who wouldn't stop touching me the whole ride to his house, who I know wanted to do dirty, nasty, unspeakable things to me, even if he never got the chance to, and his harpy of a wife acted like the whole situation was my fault! So don't act like you know anything about anything."
The monologue left Malcolm completely stunned. "I had no idea…"
"No, you didn't." Ainsely spat, "Look, I'm trying to help you here. She may be being nice now, but what happens whenever this is over and she doesn't have a use for you? When she realizes what she's taken on? When she's displeased with her house boy and is short on money for the electric bill?!"
Malcolm didn't say anything, but she had struck a nerve. Now he couldn't stop thinking what if she was right? What if Dani decided he was more trouble than he was worth?
It wasn't like it would be the first time.
Realizing she had gone too far again, Ainsley's face softened. "I'm sorry, this was the wrong way to go about this. Look, my mother isn't going to be happy that I'm telling you this, but—"
She was cut off by a knocking on the door. "Hey, sorry to interrupt but apparently I forgot some socks." Dani called out, from the other side, "Mind if I step in for a moment?"
"No, Ainsely was just leaving." Malcolm called out, his voice strained.
Ainsely whirled back around. "Malcolm, please—"
That was Dani walked through the door, freezing at the scene. The pair were positioned as if facing off against each other, the tension so thick you could take a steak knife to it, and she could see the clear anguish on Malcolm's face. "What did you do to him?" She demanded.
"Nothing." Ainsely said, but admitted, "The discussion just got a little out of hand."
Dani looked over to Malcolm.
"It's fine, really." Malcolm insisted.
Yeah, right . Dani thought, before looking back at the blonde. "I think Malcolm's right. You need to go."
Defeated, Ainsely turned for one last look at Malcolm. "Just think about what I said, Malcolm." She advised him, "Please." Then she walked out with as much dignity as she had managed.
Dani waited a few seconds, listening as the younger woman's heels echoed through the halls until they were out of earshot. "Malcolm what did she say to you?" She asked, stepping a few inches further into the room, her hand finally leaving the doorknob.
"It's was nothing." Malcolm smiled unsuccessfully, "Really."
"Yeah, you're on the edge of tears, but it's nothing." Dani called him out. Her face softened as she asked, "Did something happen to one of the girls?" She could easily see Ainsely thinking Malcolm should know if something bad had happened to one of them, and it would certainly explain the state he was in.
"No, nothing like that." Malcolm assured her, "I think so anyway, she steered the conversation away from them when I asked."
While relived to have that option off the table, it did little alleviate Dani's concern. "Then what is it?"
Malcolm rubbed his mouth, of two minds: One who felt like he was accusing Dani if he verbalized what happened and not wanting to do that, the other afraid of angering her. He hated himself for it, but suddenly Dani was someone to be viewed with caution again. A danger. Either mind couldn't bear to verbalize what he was thinking now.
"Malcolm," Dani began carefully, "You know you can tell me." After a beat she added, "That's what friends do, Mal."
Malcolm's mouth felt dry, his hand beginning to shake. Then Dani's eyes contorted as if in annoyance, slightly repositioning her body…
Malcolm collapsed to his knees. "I'm sorry, please, I won't—I'll be good, I'll be good, I'll be nice, just please don't…" Don't what ? Don't hurt him? Don't send him away?
Horrified and heartbroken, Dani gingerly approached him before falling to her knees. "Malcolm, breathe." Dani instructed, reaching out and gently wrapping her hand around his trembling one. "Malcolm, I don't know what you saw, but I'm sorry. I just got—frustrated. I can't help if I don't know what's going on."
As she spoke Malcolm slowly breathed in and out, finally able to look at her with watery eyes. "You wouldn't sell me to pay the electric bill, would you?"
Dani's face contorted in horrified confusion. "I'm sorry, what ?"
Malcolm began to panic once more. "I'm sorry," He began, shaking, "I'm sorry, I—I shouldn't—"
"Malcolm, Malcolm, clam down." Dani part ordered, part pleaded, "Breathe again."
Malcolm obeyed, slowly breathing in and out.
"Why don't you just start at the beginning?" Dani suggested.
Ainsely marched down the street, wiping the tears that were forming in her eyes , before letting out a growling scream of frustration. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be this impotent, this powerless. Passing a metal trash can on the street, she lunged at it, pushing it, hitting it, letting out another scream, this one more of howl.
"What did that trash can ever do to you?"
Ainsely turned around and saw Max no more than five feet away from her. "How did you—"
"Boss lady thought you might come around." Max explained, "That something like—whatever just happened back there might happen." After a beat he asked, "What was that anyway?"
Ainsely walked side by side with Max, telling him the whole story. Her mother's relationship with a cop, Malcolm, the undercover operation, all of it.
"Malcolm thinks it's not going to get any better than with her." Ainsely finished, "And I can't tell him any different because no way Detective Powell ever lets me near him again, especially if he tells her what I said. Mom thinks she found a way to still get him out, but…"
"Your mother's a good woman, and your operation does good work, I won't try to convince you any different." Max said, "But it'd still small in the grand scheme of things, and it seems you might have gotten yourselves in over your head against us. " He paused a minute, meeting the young woman's eyes, "Even if Jessica doesn't come around you join us, and we can help a hundred Malcolms. I won't make promises but maybe we can even get this one out. So, Ains, what do you say?"
Within a few moments, something snapped inside her and she made a decision. Ainsely straightened herself as much as she could. "What do you need me to do?"