Chapter Five
After the first flight
of stairs, Rachel started to hope Tobias wouldn't listen to her and would
come after her. By the time she reached the ground level she wanted to
crawl back into her bed. But that would mean not only seeing Tobias again,
but climbing up three flights of stairs.
She patted her pockets,
hoping she had some money that had been forgotten. Enough at least for
a beer, though she wouldn't have minded a fifty or a hundred, enough to
get a hotel room or drugs. Or both. But she found nothing.
And now there's
no one out here to take you in, Rachel said to herself. Marissa,
if I ever needed you, it's now.
Rachel began
walking. She knew how to get a room for the night, and maybe a little extra.
Marissa had always looked down on the prostitutes who worked only if their
john could provide a room. She didn't think it was dignified. And they
earned a lot less money. But Rachel understood their reasoning now. If
the choice was sleeping with a guy in a small, seedy hotel room, or sleeping
alone and cold in an alleyway, almost everyone would choose the hotel.
A few blocks away from
her apartment, Rachel stopped and leaned up against a lamp post. She was
too tired to go any farther. She needed to find a guy with a hotel room
as soon as she could. She looked down at herself, inspecting her clothes.
I'll never get a room in sweats. She pulled at the neck of her sweatshirt
and checked her shoulder. Yes, she had put a bra on. A sports bra so maybe
if the cops came she'd be able to explain herself. She pulled off the sweatshirt
and tied it around her waist. As she was rolling up the legs of her sweat
pants, she heard a car slow to a stop at the curb. "Hey, baby. What'cha
doin'?"
Rachel stood up slowly,
seductively, letting her prospective client see just what he could get.
She sauntered closer to the car window. "That depends on who's asking."
"What' if it's Jake?
Jake Berenson?"
Rachel knew it wasn't
really Jake. Jake didn't spend much time in the city anymore, and she doubted
her perfect cousin knew this part of the city existed. But Rachel had met
some of Marissa's clients before. 'Jake' had visited her several times,
as had 'Marco' and the president, every time looking a lot different than
he did on TV, or even the last time he visited. Now that she was out here,
Rachel understood why: how often do you get to be somebody else? And it
was safer. It was easier for the police to find you if you visited a prostitute
(or you were a prostitute) under your own name.
"Well," Rachel said
to 'Jake.' "If it's the most powerful man on the planet, then I'm just
a lost girl, hoping for a room and some comfort for the evening."
"I think that's the
least I can provide. Can you meet me at the Holiday Inn Express on the
next block? I'll get us a room there." Rachel's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
'Jake' laughed. "You said so yourself. I'm the most powerful man on Earth.
I can spring for a nice hotel room. Maybe even with a mini-bar. Who shall
I tell the desk will be joining me?"
Rachel said the first
name that came to her head and smiled when she realized what she was saying.
"Cassie. Cassie Johnson."
Rachel faintly saw
'Jake' smirk. "You know your history, Cassie. See you in a few." The car
was thrown into gear, then sped around the corner. Rachel followed at the
briskest pace she could muster.
"Can I help you, Miss?" the boy behind the counter asked.
"Um, yes. I'm here to meet with Jake Berenson."
The boy rolled his eyes. "Yes. Jake. Of course. You're the Cassie he told me about?"
"Yeah. Cassie Johnson." Forgive me, Cassie.
"I'll give him a call. He can tell you the room number." Rachel nodded, then leaned up against the counter, trying to act relaxed.
"Here you go, Miss," the boy said after a minute. He handed Rachel the phone.
"Jake?"
"Hi, Cassie. I'm in room 236."
"All right. I'll be up in a minute."
"I can't wait."
Rachel forced a smile. "Neither can I." She handed the phone back to the boy. "Thanks."
"No problem. Enjoy your stay."
Rachel forced another smile. "I'm sure I will."
'Jake' grabbed Rachel from behind as soon as he closed the door and began nuzzling her neck. "Who thought I'd ever get to do an Animorph?" he asked.
Rachel had to fight down a burst of panic. He doesn't know who you are. He's joking. He's not Jake, you're not Cassie, and neither of you are Animorphs tonight. "Unless we're playing, you won't tonight. The real Cassie's black, remember?" And she'd die before doing this.
"Then let's play," 'Jake' said. "I am Jake Berenson. Leader of the Animorphs. A tiger on the battlefield. . . and off."
"I'm sure he is," Rachel said through gritted teeth.
'Jake' kissed Rachel deeply. "You're cold," he said in between kisses down her throat. "And shaking. Come to the bed. I'll have you warmed up in no time." 'Jake' gently led her to the bed and began to undress her when she sat down.
"Wait," Rachel said as 'Jake' reached for the waist of her sweat pants. "I'm. . . could we maybe have a drink before going any further? It. . . sets the mood better, don't you think?"
'Jake' looked slightly disappointed, but didn't say anything. He just went to the minibar and grabbed two small bottles. Rachel downed hers almost immediately after opening it. "Much better," she practically purred as she finished it off. She threw her arms around 'Jake' and pulled him down on top of her. "Now I'm ready, fearless leader."
She didn't have that luxury with her paying customers. She enjoyed the chance to sleep in a bed or, occasionally a sofa when she went home to a bachelor pad, but since she was already imposing on these men for a place to stay, they felt they owed her little else. More than once she felt in the morning that the men hadn't paid her for all her services rendered. Often they got her so drunk or doped up she passed out so they could do whatever they wanted to her until she woke up. If she said anything about the amount she was paid, they usually explained their cheapness with excuses of cleaning bills or paying for the drugs and booze.
Yet Rachel kept working. Her pay was so meager that after buying a drink and, if she was lucky, a bit of drugs, she didn't always have money for food. Sometimes she didn't want food for days, she was so doped up. She developed the 'heroin chic' look quickly.
Rachel's days were filled by wandering the streets. During the day no one noticed her provocative clothes or her blank gaze. She was free to go where ever she pleased, to scout out new locations for the evening and, more than once, to go by Marissa's old building.
Rachel didn't know why she kept coming back. It certainly didn't make her feel any better. She would buy herself several bottles of beer, the best heroin she could afford, then sit in an alley across the street from Marissa's building and drink and shoot up until she began to forget the pain; sometimes she began to forget why she was sitting there. But always around sunset she left. She knew the women who worked in this area, she didn't want to be seen as competition, nor did she want to be reminded that Marissa wasn't there.
Early one evening, as Rachel was struggling to her feet in her booze and drug induced stupor, a car slowed to a stop in front of her. Rachel squinted at it, trying to see if it was a cop car or not. It was a black non-descript vehicle. She was about to run, assuming the worst since it was too early for a client to be picking her up, when the window rolled down and a woman's voice called out, "Rachel?!"
Rachel turned back to the car. "Wha?"
A woman stepped out of the car. Rachel vaguely recognized her, but couldn't get her brain to cooperate and tell her exactly who this woman was. "Dear God, what happened to you?"
"Whaddya mean? Who're you?"
The woman cautiously stepped towards Rachel. "I'm Cassie, Rachel. Do you remember me?"
Rachel squinted at the woman claiming to be Cassie. "You can't be. Cassie's short."
Cassie smiled slightly. "Someone conned me into high heels for a meeting. I'm on my way home from there now. Would you like to come home with me?"
"No."
"I'd really like it if you'd come with me, Rachel.
"Why shoul' I? Nothin' good ever happens at home. Tobias always yellin' at me. . . ."
"Tobias isn't at my home, Rachel. I live alone. I'd like company, just for one night."
"There'll be a bed?"
"A large one."
"An' no men?"
If it wasn't already, Cassie's heart broke then. Her best friend was standing on a lonely street corner, dressed like a hooker, dangerously drunk and stoned, and was worried about men spending the night. Dear God, what has she been through? "No men," she promised softly.
Rachel took a few hesitant steps to Cassie, then clutched Cassie's arm in a death-grip for support. "Lea' th' way."
"My room is right across the hall," Cassie said as Rachel explored her new room. "You can come get me if you need anything."
"I need a beer," Rachel mumbled as she entered the walk-in closet.
"I don't have any."
"Why th' hell not?!"
Cassie involuntarily stepped back, even though Rachel was halfway across the room. "I've never liked it. I have Diet Coke, cranberry juice, milk and water. Would you like any of that?"
Rachel collapsed on the bed. "No. I'll wait an' buy more. . . ." she didn't finish the sentence. She'd fallen asleep
She looks so peaceful, Cassie thought as she went to the bed. She tugged off Rachel's ratty sneakers, then gently set her right leg up on the bed, instead of letting it continue to hang off. She moved a pillow so it was under Rachel's head, then pulled a sheet down from a shelf in the closet and laid it over Rachel. Looking at her now, you'd never know she had a problem in the world. Cassie quietly left the room, turning off the light just before closing the door.
She crossed the hall into her own bedroom. First she kicked off the damn high heels Ronnie had suggested she wear to meet with the governor, then she sat on her bed and grabbed her cordless phone. She pushed the second number on her speed dial. Tobias.
There were four rings with no answer before the answering machine picked up. "Hi, Tobias, it's Cassie. I'm calling to -" there was a shriek of interference as the phone was picked up at Tobias' end. Cassie was used to this now. Tobias had been spending most of his time as a hawk now since Rachel had disappeared three weeks ago. He was rarely able to morph before the answering machine answered.
"Have you heard anything?" Tobias demanded.
"I found Rachel," Cassie said.
"What?"
Cassie smiled slightly. "I found Rachel. Just a half an hour ago."
"Oh my God. I'd thought - I mean, it's been so long!"
"I know."
"Where is she? I have to talk to her."
"She's at my place now, sleeping. I don't know when she'll be up to talking."
"What do you mean?"
Cassie sighed and laid down on her bed. "I mean, the streets haven't been kind to Rachel. When I picked her up she was drunk and stoned. I don't want to know how many drugs are in her system right now. And, this may have been the booze talking, she doesn't seem to want to talk with you. When I asked her to come home with me, she thought I meant your place, and said nothing good ever happens there."
"She couldn't have meant it."
"I'm sure you're right," Cassie said, though she wasn't sure at all. Something must have happened in that apartment for Rachel to have run away. "I'll keep you updated until she's ready to call you herself."
"Thank you, Cassie. I owe you so much."
"You don't owe me anything, Tobias."
"Still. . . . Can you tell Rachel something for me?"
"When she wakes up."
"Of course. Um, tell her I love her?"
"As soon as she wakes up," Cassie said with a smile. "I promise."