The Woman from Cheshire Avenue Read online

  Michael’s eyes were wide. “How?”

  “Well,” the woman’s brow furrow slightly. “It’s kinda weird to explain, but all my customers ever want to do is talk. So all I day I listen to them bitch about their wives and their girlfriends, their jobs and their kids. Then they feel guilty for wasting my time, so I get paid.”

  Michael was still lost. “And someone gave you five hundred dollars for that?”

  The woman giggled. “No, silly! Not one person. I had six customers today,” she beamed proudly.

  “I-I’m sorry.” Michael shook his head to clear it. “Who are you again?”

  “I’m Madison.” Her eyes looked up at the street sign proudly.

  Michael found himself staring her now, almost in awe. “Like the avenue!” he gasped.

  “Yes!” she nodded cheerfully.

  “You’re a hooker!”

  “Yes!”

  “A hooker named Madison!” he exclaimed.

  “Yes!” she obliged him, laughing now.

  Michael was truly in high spirits now. For the first time in days a big, wide grin broke across his face and he savored the moment as though it were his last.

  “Oh, she’s going to love this,” he murmured to himself. Clearing his throat, Michael coolly inquired, “A few nights ago, you—I’m guessing—‘listened’ to a young man. He was blond, yea high, had tattoos on his body—if you even saw them—”

  Madison’s eyes lit up. “Swastika Dude!” she answered cheerfully, and Michael thought his heart would explode from sheer glee.

  “Yeah,” he chuckled, “…‘Swastika Dude.’ His real name was Eric, by the way.”

  “Eric.” Madison closed her eyes, as it to properly taste the name. “Eric.”

  “Eric Quisling, actually,” Michael informed her jovially. “He’s dead now.”

  She looked genuinely saddened, causing him to wonder how exactly what is was about Eric which garnered so much female sympathy.

  “Did he ever tell that girl how much he loved her?”

  Michael raised an eyebrow. “You know about that?”

  Madison nodded. “It’s what he felt the need to talk about.”

  Michael paused to mull this over, not sure what to do next. “He died saying your name. We couldn’t understand why he called for you.”

  “Ah,” she nodded, speaking softly. “That’s sweet. I’m very sorry to hear he’s dead. He wanted to come back and give me more money, even though he didn’t need to. He seemed like a nice guy…swastikas notwithstanding.”

  “Yeah,” Michael shrugged. “I guess he was.” Pause. “So, like, how much?”

  “Well,” she leaned in to delicately sniff him, “you’re really cute, and you obviously shower, so I’m willing to cut you a discount. Heck, I’m in such a good mood, I’ll even make it a freebie.”

  “Wow.”

  An hour later, Michael lay next to Madison in her pink and red abode, sweaty and naked atop her bed. He shifted to look at her, gasping, “I can’t believe people pay you to listen.”

  She smiled blissfully, explaining almost matter-of-factly, “I aspire to be good at my job. Though I’ve never actually gotten to do that with a customer before.”

  Again, Michael’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

  Madison chuckled warmly. “Seriously.”

  Michael paused, looking back up at the chipped ceiling for several minutes before asking, “How’d you like to come live at my house?”

  Now it was Madison’s turn. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” Michael laughed. “I have a beautiful house. It’s empty though. I wouldn’t mind having you hang around.”

  What he said perplexed her; it was all over her face. “How would that work, exactly?”

  * * *

  “Rachel Hirosawa’s line, this is Madison speaking! Oh, hi, Dolohov! How’s the wife?”

  With a mix of horror, amusement, and awe, the Hirosawa siblings watched Madison work. She sat at a little mahogany desk in Michael’s new study; the phone she held was practically bigger than she. Against the dark wood floors and book-filled shelves, she sharply stood out. And it didn’t help that she wore a Madisonified version of a professional outfit, complete with black and gray striped thigh-high stockings.

  Rachel was torn between being confused and being bemused. “Where…whered did you find her?”

  Michael, on the other hand, was thoroughly amused. “On the corner of 12th and Madison,” he chuckled.

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Uh-huh,” her brother snickered. “She has such a pleasant phone voice, doesn’t she?”

  “…ahhh…see, I knew you should’ve gone with the sapphires,” Madison was shaking her head. “They’re Anka’s birthstones, remember?”

  “Christ, she’s…bonded with all of our contacts,” Rachel muttered. “Not even Goldie was this weird, and she’s all kinds of fucked in the head.”

  “I think Madison’s sweet,” Michael replied. “And as you said, our contacts do like her.”

  “…of course, Dolohov! I’m very sorry your client didn’t pay the balance in full. Rachel should be available to meet with your former colleague within the week to discuss the status of his credit. How’s Saturday sound?”

  Rachel raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow. “Does she know she’s arranging to have people killed?”

  “No,” Michael laughed openly. “She hasn’t a clue! Isn’t it adorable?”

  “Does she know about Eric?” Nathaniel asked lowly, his shrewd eyes never leaving the newest addition to Michael’s humble home.

  “Uh-huh,” his brother replied easily, nodding.

  “Does she know you killed him?” came the stern but expected second question.

  “Uh-uh,” his brother shook his head, his smile only slightly faded.

  “Good,” Nathaniel nodded, adjusting his tie. “Better to keep it that way.”

  Rachel was not so easily convinced. “What will you do if she finds out?” she asked dryly. “What will you do when your precious little protégé here decides she doesn’t want to be around Eric’s killer?”

  She was eager to hear Michael’s response, but her other brother swiftly cut in.

  “He will do what he must,” Nathaniel said in a tone not to be contradicted. “He will be merciful and leave her be. She is not a part of this.”

  “Believe it or not brother,” Michael mused, “I actually intend to keep it that way.”

  “Good,” Nathaniel nodded briskly. “Now we can attend to new business. Rachel, when you’re finished with your business here in Cherrywood, you are to report up north.”

  “What’s up north?” she asked demanded, her brow furrowing.

  “Our cousin Trent has been assigned to ensure the reelection of Governor Thierry Juneau,” Nathaniel replied. “He already has a strategy laid out; he’s even secured approval from our superiors. All that remains now is its enforcement.” Though his voice was neutral, his words caused Michael to immediately stiffen next to him.

  “You’re referring to St. Verde,” he murmured. He shifted uncomfortably. “That’s d’Auvigne territory.”

  “Yes, it is,” Nathaniel replied coolly, baffling both his siblings. “For now, they unaware of Trent’s presence there, which is why Rachel must travel discreetly.”

  But Michael wasn’t finished. Even though he’d been demoted to civilian status, he knew that if his family rolled snake eyes on their newest acquisition, being a civilian wouldn’t spare him the enemy’s wrath.

  He turned to face his brother squarely, stating with the utmost gravity, “If they find out we’re on their land, it’ll be war, Nate. The likes of which none us of have ever known. And if you think I’m sick, you’ve never seen the handiwork of a d’Auvigne.”

  He was referring, of course, to that little piece of family history which family members were forbidden to refer to. But despite Michael’s subtle reminder, Nathaniel remained unyielding.

  “Orders come from
above,” he stated simply. “Trent is expecting you by November, Rachel; you will be briefed on his mission status before departure. Juneau is the first governor we’ve ever acquired and the most important politician we’ve ever had.” He finally met his siblings’ gaze, unflinching.

  “I don’t think I need to point that if anything—anything at all—goes wrong in St. Verde, it’ll be our heads.”

  To be continued in The Velvet Hall

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