withdrawing them fruitless, forcing the second to snap them back with force. All of the girls allowed their eyes to linger on the welts, moving as one.
‘That doesn’t seem to be the case.’ Corinne withdrew, having proved her point though gaining no advantage from it.
Katerina struggled to make sense of what was unfurling and found herself, much like Kitty, pleading for sense.
‘We love you, Misu. Please, listen to us.’
This was met with the same rejection. Misu snarled her response, letting her voice rise with her anger. ‘All I hear is prattle,’ she burst out. ‘Needless prattle and I will not tolerate it. This is the end of the subject. Am I clear?’
Katerina refused to be ordered in such a way and certainly not in these circumstances.
‘Just answer us one thing. Where were you just now?’
‘I went for a walk. I couldn’t sleep and I figured the night air would help. Why is that so unusual? Why is any of this so unusual?’ Her shallow, nervous laughter filled the void as she focused on Jacques who sat quite still. He gave no response to this attention, not that Misu wanted any, but what if he was to speak about what happened tonight?
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Katerina’s face sharply fell.
‘That’s a lie,’ she mumbled.
‘What?’
‘That’s a lie.’ She spoke louder this time, more confidently, her lips flushed red. ‘And you know it.’
‘It looks like they can see right through you. I think it best if you confess what you were up to, before I begin to get impatient,’ someone called in male, rough tones – exactly what Misu was afraid of hearing, and with good cause. The line of women broke and parted slightly to make room for the owner of the voice.
But it wasn’t Jacques who spoke. He had remained, as silent as he had been upon entering. Hidden out of sight, Franco had been present the entire time. He poured himself another single malt and waited for his answer. He looked different while reassessing many things about her character, and how much of a danger she now presented. After all, he had to take stock of the business, based on her explanation.
Franco didn’t need to repeat himself, but did so, slower, firmer.
Misu’s face fell tremendously. The jig was up. ‘This is unbelievable,’ she stammered uncontrollably.
‘It is,’ Jacques interjected, finally telling his part in all this. ‘Franco asked me to keep tabs on everyone. He told me something didn’t smell right about this here city. A good thing too. I’ve shadowed you for the last couple of nights. Your toing and froing was a worry. The safety of everyone here is paramount and no matter how quick you thought you were, I followed you, down every street, down every alleyway. I saw the people you conversed with. You’re lucky I did so tonight, else I expect you’d have been sliced to ribbons.’
Now there was nothing left to hide behind. Misu’s secrets were truly bared and she was frightened about what may become of her.
‘Tell me …’ Jacques lit himself a smoke to take the edge off the situation, if only for his benefit. ‘Those gentlemen from the night before. The same well-dressed ones, who had you by the wrists tonight against a wall. Who are they?’
‘Associates.’
‘Of whom?’
Misu hesitated, looking to Franco who remained utterly silent.
‘I won’t repeat myself, Misu.’
* * *
It was Franco’s turn to speak and as he did so, the river of women parted further for him, letting him walk unhindered through the carriage, where the walls had become too tight and the air thick with deception.
‘She doesn’t need to. It’s pretty clear, of course. Something had been bothering me, something the sheriff mentioned when he gave us the business. He said something about the company that we kept, which is a feat considering we’ve never put a show on here before. See, it wasn’t Wyld who got us impounded; she’s too thorough to get caught. Ever since you found out we were coming to Windberg, Misu, you’ve been unhappy. Gave me the cold shoulder for no other discernible reason. Since we rolled in, you’ve been skittish and distracted. Somebody here has a history with you and given their brazen attitude with sending thugs, they must be pretty high up the food chain.’
Misu nodded. ‘I’m so sorry … he …’
‘He who?’ Franco now stood toe to toe with her, a woman who he’d thought above all people he could trust. What a foolish notion, he concluded. It seemed like everyone was corruptible. Sentimentality was thrown aside.
‘Wilheim.’
That name. Of course it was Wilheim. Since arriving they had heard of no other party. Clearly whatever Wilheim was doing, it was enough to ensure that he was immovable in the eyes of the law. Either that, or he kept himself so far from the dirty work it was impossible to trace his association.
‘I knew it. Don’t even know the man and he’s all over my business.’
‘I didn’t have a choice!’ Misu pleaded, arms outstretched. ‘He blackmailed me. Before you and I even met I was at his beck and call. I was at his mercy and he’s an animal, simply an animal. You don’t just walk away from a man like him. You just … you don’t. You have no idea what he said he would do to me. I wasn’t going to let myself be his slave any more. Do you get that? I wasn’t going to tolerate it so I escaped and fled, fled as far as I could. And then, his men found me. And it just got worse.’
There it was, the ugly truth of it all. It all made a terrible sense, one that Franco punctuated with his tone. ‘And Juniper knows this criminal. All the history that comes with him. The sheriff has been keeping eyes on you, and by extension, us. Because of your involvement with that man, we’re stuck here. Because of you, everything we have done is at risk.’
‘You just don’t understand.’ Misu sighed tearfully.
‘Try me,’ Franco demanded, his voice rising in anger. ‘In fact, Misu, why don’t you finally come clean? I never took you to be one who turned to deception, but seeing as there’s a great deal of people here who you decided to screw over, I think you need to spill as to what it actually took.’
If that’s what it would take, Misu decided to talk.
* * *
She gripped on to the filthy sink as if it were her only anchor to a sensible world, a place where decisions weren’t steeped in regret and where her conscience didn’t berate her for being disgusting. It continued to jabber away, unloading all manner of insults regarding her behaviour. They were right of course but this made them no less stinging.
Misu hung herself over the sink – a filthy sink in a filthy backstage cubicle barely bigger than herself. It was one of an identical strip that ran the length of the wall, illuminated sparely with gas lamps, which shadows wrestled against. Before her lay the usual tools of the trade, some hers, some the property of others: make-up, cigarettes, a half-empty tumbler of
