L.L. Foster - The Acceptance

Gaby put her hands on her hips. “What kind of business?”

Opal clammed up. Posy looked to Betty, and tried to slip away.

“Not another step.” Gaby closed in on them, and as one, they crowded back against the peeling wallpaper. She looked at them each in turn. “No one leaves until I know what’s going on.”

Betty let out a long, aggrieved sigh. “It ain’t nothin’ for you to get involved in, Gaby.”

“How about you let me make that decision, okay?”

“But it’s the truth, you sometimes overreact,” Posy confided.

“I won’t this time.”

Opal snorted. “Yeah, right. And I’m headin’ to sainthood.”

The three of them guffawed.

Gaby tapped the toe of her boot. Damn it, if she was going to carry through with this farce, and she was, despite her personal dread, then she wanted to get on with it. “If we stand here all night, none of you can work. Then how happy will Jimbo be?”

That possibility stifled their humor. Another minute passed before finding results.

“Oh, for Chrissake,” Posy blurted. “A john roughed up one of the girls. He paid extra for it, though, Gaby.” She wrung her hands. “You know some of ’em enjoy doing that sort of thing.”

“It gets ’em off,” Opal added.

Oh God. Gaby felt ill. While she’d been writing, a woman had been hurt. Damn her selfish need for expression. Of course, that type of abuse wasn’t the sort of thing that ignited her senses. She should have been on the street, where she’d have seen the trouble.

Ice filled her veins. “How bad was she hurt?”

The women shared a pained look. Posy said quietly, “He knocked one of her teeth out, left some welts on her back, and . . .”

Opal cleared her throat. “He burned her a couple times with his cigarette.”

Tension snapped Gaby’s back straight. For only a moment, her vision blurred. Honing her anger inward, she focused on retaliation. “Who was it?”

“Marie.”

Her heart squeezed. Poor old Marie. She was more mature than the others, heavier, homelier. Because of that, Jimbo often ridiculed her. She never made as much as the younger women, and often took the riskier propositions—with Jimbo’s blessing.

This time, he’d be sorry for his lack of defense.

Gaby nodded to the women. “Thanks for telling me. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

Opal grabbed her arm, but whatever she felt had her snatching back her hand with alacrity. She blinked twice before getting the words out. “Gaby, please. We don’t need no more trouble.”

“He’s payin’ Jimbo extra for the problems he caused,” Posy offered.

Sick bastard. Fuck that.

Gaby felt no deep calling, so he wasn’t the one who’d killed Lucy and tried to take Bliss.

But for now, he’d do.

“Yeah, he’ll pay,” Gaby agreed. “Now all of you, get to work before Jimbo suspects you of ratting to me.”

And just like that, they scattered, leaving Gaby alone on the steps.

She couldn’t butcher the man, although she wanted to, although she could. Not out of pleasure, but out of justice. Some people didn’t deserve to take up space on Earth.

Anyone who would abuse a woman, even a woman for sale, fit the category of unworthy.

Sex was one thing. Physical maltreatment was something else entirely.

Under burning intendment, Gaby went down the flight of stairs, out the front door, and to the walkway. Even the blackness of the night couldn’t conceal Jimbo’s loathsome dealings. Gaby saw him a block up, with another man, and a cowering woman.

Marie.

She didn’t realize she’d moved until she found herself a mere yard from the men.

“How can she work like that?” Jimbo demanded. “It’ll be two days before those burns heal.”

“I ain’t paying you more’n that,” the man raged. “Fifty bucks extra is compensation enough for the likes of her.”

Under implied threat, Jimbo scowled at him. “Well I say it isn’t.”

Gaby strode into the middle of the fray. “For once, Jimbo, we’re in agreement.”

All eyes turned to her. Marie’s poor face sported multiple bruises. Her lips were bloodied. On her neck, a small round burn, haloed by inflamed red flesh, still oozed. Dried blood encrusted her swollen nose. Her hair hung in matted tangles. Torn clothes barely kept her covered.

Gaby inhaled a slow, steadying breath—and it didn’t help. Not one iota.

Anxious to dissuade her of involvement, Jimbo snarled. “Butt out, Gaby.”

He was as insignificant as a gnat—so Gaby ignored him. “Where else are you burned, Marie?”

Quivering all over, Marie said, “I’m . . . I’m okay, Gaby.”

“Show me.”

Marie sent a nervous glance toward the two towering men.

Gaby hardened her resolve. “Show me now .”

Cringing, Marie lifted her torn blouse to display a worse, deeper burn on her ribs, right below her left breast. Bruises and welts surrounded that wound.

Fierce rage fulgurated.

Rock-steady, primed to contravene the sight of mistreatment, Gaby turned to the man. “You hurt her pretty damn bad.”

Beefy in the way of a street brute, he stood at least five inches taller than Gaby. Thick brown hair hung over his ears, and bright green eyes twinkled with mirth. “She’s a whore, so what do you care?”

Tipping her head to the side, Gaby smiled.

Jimbo sucked in air. “Oh shit.” He rushed closer. “God damn it, Gaby,” he hissed low, “I’m warning you—”

Without looking at him, Gaby struck out with her elbow, and hit Jimbo square in the nose.

He exploded, cursing, stomping, threatening her with evil retribution that they both knew carried no weight, not against her.

Gaby spared him a glance. “You let this happen, Jimbo. For all you know, he could be the same perverted asshole who murdered Lucy.”

The man snorted. “What are you talking about? I ain’t murdered no one.”

Holding his bleeding nose, Jimbo frowned at Gaby. “Well, he’s not, now is he?”

“No, he’s not. But you didn’t know that, and you did squat to stop him. Far as I’m concerned, that makes you as guilty as him.”

Trying to sound reasonable, Jimbo explained, “I wasn’t there, bitch, so how could I have stopped him? And if you’d stop nosing in, you’d see that I’m trying to settle it with him right now.”

“Oh no.” Gaby shook her head. “You’re trying to compensate off Marie’s pain. That’s not the same thing.”

Desperate, Jimbo grabbed her arm and spoke low. “Money is the only thing most people understand. If it costs him, he’ll be less inclined to ever do it again.”

Realization struck Gaby. Huh. Maybe Jimbo wasn’t as inhuman as she’d always thought. “Okay, so you get an A for effort.”

“Hallelujah.”

“But this time,” she continued, “the cost of money isn’t near enough.”

Shaking with his anger, Jimbo tried to take her attention off the man. “It’s none of your damn business, Gaby.”

Slowly, Gaby looked down at his hand on her arm, then into his eyes. “I’d suggest you back off, Jimbo, and let me do my thing. I’m done playing with you right now, and if you don’t let me vent where I most want to, I’m going to vent on you next.”

Just that quick, he released her. Exasperated, he threw up his arms, turned his back on her, and marched a few— safer—feet away.

The man in front of Gaby roared with hilarity. “I’ll be damned. He’s afraid of you, ain’t he?”

Just below the surface, Gaby’s savage temper bared its teeth. “He’s not as stupid as he looks.”

The man continued to chuckle. “Little sis, you sure talk a long line of shit, I’ll give you that. But I wonder if you can—”