The Woman from Cheshire Avenue Read online

  He walked down Twelfth Street alone; this was a quiet neighborhood, lined with picket fences and humble homes. In the distance he could hear the barking of puppies, and smell the grass of regularly mowed lawns. It was a neighborhood he’d never lived in, in a childhood he’d never had. After all, the west end was known for its picture-perfect neighborhoods.

  Which was why when he saw a woman standing on the corner of Twelfth and Madison, leaning up against a lamppost, Eric became deeply confused.

  She was about Lilith’s height and complexion, but with slightly bigger breasts and wider hips. She wore her hair in black and pink braids, bound up in pigtails with pink ribbons. The pink matched her corset, worn over a tight-fitting, long-sleeved white shirt. She had on a black pleated shirt, pink and white striped thigh-highs, and black high-heels. For a moment, Eric thought he was hallucinating again, for there was no way that in this sleepy, picturesque location, a hooker would be lounging on a corner.

  Suspending his disbelief, Eric prepared to walk past her. But as soon as he drew close, she called out in the most cheerful voice he ever heard, “Hey, cutie!”

  This…is not happening.

  Eric stopped to gawk at the woman for a moment. She smiled brilliantly, innocently even, but he was certain she still wasn’t what he thought she was. She had a very lovable, very pretty face, and she was standing on the corner of Harmless and Middle Class.

  Eric glanced around himself. Like many streets in Cherrywood at this hour, Twelfth and Madison were completely empty. There were no cars. All he could hear were crickets and puppies in the distance. He looked back at the woman, who smiled sweetly again, and winked.

  Eric stopped his laughter just as it bubbled up. “Seriously?” he asked, incredulity widening his eyes.

  She nodded with energy and enthusiasm of a child. “I’m Madison,” she introduced herself. “This is my turf.”

  Once more, Eric looked around himself making sure they were where he thought they were. When the white picket fences and brand new welcome mats didn’t vanish, he looked back at her and asked once more, “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” she assured him in that high, melodic voice of hers. “What can I do you for?”

  She really was a good-looking woman. Her caramel brown skin looked very much like Lilith’s, but her face was so much happier. In short, she was not at all the typical “working girl.”

  “Well…Madison,” Eric heard himself saying, before quickly glancing up at the signs of the street corner. “Madison? Like the avenue?”

  She gave that child-like nod again. “It’s my turf,” she repeated. There was a lightly honeyed sigh in her little voice which was amusing and disarming at the same time.

  “How much?” he asked strictly out of curiosity. Eric was more charmed and intrigued than he was turned on. In fact, the unquenchable heat he’d been feeling just moments earlier dissipated and gave way to wave after wave of intense amusement.

  Madison leaned in suddenly, and delicately sniffed him, much as a curious feline would. It brought a huge grin to his face.

  “Well,” she said innocently, “you’re cute, and you bathed today, so I’m willing to cut you a discount.” She added a resolute little nod, as if for good measure.

  Eric had to work very, very hard not to laugh now, so he stood silent for several moments before saying, “Sure. Why not?”

  She led him to her apartment in an old brick building just a block away. It was a charming little one-room place, filled with candles, pink and red rugs, and a tie-dyed duvet draping her queen-sized bed. The walls were lined with paintings, each one presumably of her. There was much pink and red in the swirling of the paints; he deduced she did them herself. If so, she definitely had a gift, and belonged in a school honing her talents, not on a street corner.

  Fleetingly, Eric wondered if he’d stumbled into the abode of an axe murderer. But then he quickly remembered whom he was dealing with.

  As Madison bent to light her candles and some incense, something suddenly occurred to Eric.

  “Wait…what about your turf?” he asked, feeling ridiculous even as he did so. “What’s to stop another…someone else from taking your spot?”

  Madison stood up and blew out the flame on a stick of incense. “It’s okay,” she assured him in that voice of hers. “No one ever takes my spot. The other girls know if they do, I’ll cut a bitch.”

  It was like hearing a four-year-old announce her plans for world domination.

  Eric had appreciated her comely looks from the moment he met her, but he’d yet to feel a real attraction, and this conversation wasn’t exactly helping. It was as though she just couldn’t awaken any genuine sexual desire in him; all of his concentration went to keep from laughing.

  “The other girls?” he echoed her, recalling the empty streets. “Are there a lot of…other girls?”

  “Oh, they’re out there,” she assured him, climbing onto her bed and kneeling in front of him. “Take your shirt off.”

  Eric started to comply when he suddenly stopped himself. There was an issue he needed to clarify before she saw him naked.

  “I have a couple of, um…controversial tattoos,” he began uncertainly. “I’ll understand if you’re offended by them and want to throw me out, but I need you to know I would never hurt you.” He smiled at her weakly. “You’re actually the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

  She beamed brilliantly at him, obviously pleased by his compliment. Giving him that little nod of hers, she explained, “It’s part of my job.”

  Again, a wave of hilarity washed over him. He allowed himself a tiny chuckle to avoid bursting. He stepped closer to the bed, where she knelt, and smiling, he slipped off his shirt and hoodie.

  She didn’t scream, or gasp, or even recoil from him. Her eyebrows did rise, however.

  “Why do you have a swastika on your chest?” she asked. “And another on your back?” she added, as he slid past her onto her bed.

  Eric lay on his back, spreading his arms, and she came lay in the crook of one of them. Her movement surprised him, but it was too endearing to question. “I went through a phase,” he admitted. “Actually, it was more like a nightmare.”

  “What changed?”

  “I met a girl who woke me up,” Eric shrugged. He twisted his head to look at her, and she did the same.

  “So, like, Sleeping Beauty in reverse?” she asked.

  He thought of Lilith’s kiss that day on Cheshire Avenue and chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it was Sleeping Beauty in reverse.”

  “Where’s she now?”

  He sighed, suddenly weary as he looked back up at the ceiling. It was hard to have to this conversation, much less with a gentle soul like Madison. He wasn’t even sure she’d understand everything he was about to say. “Well, she rejected me, and honestly, I can’t say I blame her. I did a lot of horrible things, Madison, and I don’t expect anyone to forgive me for anything. I don’t deserve it.” It was strange; he’d never thought this until now, and he was surprised at how calmly he could say it. In a way, Eric had pronounced his own sentence, and yet he was strangely fine with it.

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love,” Madison shrugged slightly. She gently stroked his chest; it was more comforting than it was arousing.

  “Thanks,” he replied, “but she’s different. She’s out of my league. She works in this exclusive university library as an archivist and her family’s rich. She’s not sweet like you; if I took my shirt off in front of her, she’d probably call the cops on me.”

  Madison shook her head lightly. “Doesn’t sound like it. If a simple working gal like me could take it, I’m sure she could too.” She shifted her head to look back up at him. “Do you love her?”

  “I care,” Eric murmured.

  “Then tomorrow, you should go see her,” Madison nodded resolutely. “You should tell her how you feel. You owe yourself that much.”

  “I should,” Eric blinked, as realization dawned on him. “I do,”
he stated clearly, sitting up and reaching for his clothes.

  “Wait!” Madison exclaimed. “Aren’t we going to…?”

  Eric reached deep into his pockets and handed over all the cash he had without thinking. “I owe you way more than this,” he said, obviously inspired. “And after I talk to her, I’m so coming back.” He turned and darted for the door.

  “But wait—” she protested, dangling his money in front of him. “You don’t have to pay me just to listen!”

  She was too late; he was already out the door. Madison sighed, clutching what came close to sixty dollars. Why did this keep happening to her?

  Star-Crossed II

  “Aryan was born in Rochester Hill,” Goldie explained from the passenger’s side of Rachel’s black Mercedes. As they spend down the highway towards the town of Eastern Jewel, she explained, “We’ll have to take the exit which leads south of River City.”

  “And you’re sure he’ll be there?” Rachel didn’t want to have to go back to her brother empty-handed, but she didn’t want to go on an extended goose chase either. Already it was almost two in the morning.

  “Aryan’s always wanted to go back to Rochester Hill. He said it was ‘overrun,’ and that he needed to ‘restore the balance’ or some shit, but he didn’t have the money so he stayed in Cherrywood.”

  “Let me guess,” Rachel snickered. “People he didn’t approve of took over the town.”

  Goldie gave her a rueful smile. “Something like that. You know Aryan,” she added, looking out her window as night sped past them, “always wants to be top dog.”

  “And you believed in all that?” Rachel inquired gingerly.

  Goldie sighed jadedly. “Rachel, everybody believes in all that until the moment reality hits. Don’t you Hirosawas think you’re better than everyone else?”

  Rachel shook her head. “A superiority complex is always one’s downfall. My brother Michael, for example, has quite an unhealthy dose of pride. This has troubled the family for some time now. After his latest debacle, we were ordered to institute a system of checks and balances to keep family members like him in line.”

  “And how does Michael dig the new system?”

  “He doesn’t know about it.” Rachel snickered. “That’s part of the system.”

  They drove on for another two hours in silence. At almost four in the morning, they finally came to the lumpy, winding roads of Rochester Hill, a forgotten hole in the world, buried in thick, unyielding forest. It was as though humans had gone to war with nature in this region and gotten their asses roundly kicked.

  “Wow…,” Rachel murmured. “No wonder he’s at home here.”

  “Aryan’s house is gone now, but his parents used to own a bar on the other side of the Hill,” Goldie pointed. “We’ll find him along the river.”

  She was right; the abandoned bar was exactly where Goldie said it would be. It sat sleepily across from the river, with a single light shining from within the first floor. It was a two-story mess, with a crooked roof and crumbling wooden walls. A neon sign rusted in one of the lower windows, having gone unused for years.

  “Damn,” Rachel blinked, before gesturing Goldie to enter first.

  They found Aryan sitting at the head of the longest table in the bar, the only table not topped with molding stools. Balding and miserable, he’d been mowing through a twenty-four pack of beer, and since he was halfway done, Rachel figured this was going to be cake.

  “You should lock your door,” Goldie greeted him, coming to stand right next to where he sat. Aryan looked up at her, seemingly in a haze, as though he were momentarily having trouble placing her. “Man on the lam like you, one would think you’d have this place on lockdown.” She glanced around her dreary surroundings, adding, “Such as it is.”

  He didn’t seem to care she was there; he may have had something much harder to drink before he started on the beers. Whatever the case, the sight of Rachel Hirosawa emerging from the shadows behind Goldie sobered him at once.

  “Woman…,” he gasped, jolting backwards in his chair. “Do you even know…why the fuck would you…?”

  Goldie rolled her eyes, obviously not in the mood. “Where’s the money, Aryan?” she demanded instead. She spoke with such impatience a passerby would’ve thought the money was hers.

  “Goldie, what the fuck?” he cried. He pointed shakily at Rachel. “You bubble-headed whore…do you even know what that is?”

  Goldie looked over her shoulder at Rachel, who gave her a weary nod. Needing no further encouragement, the blonde raised her left leg and brought her spiked heel down on his crotch with crushing speed.

  Aryan made a horrific noise, and Goldie kept her heel where it was, grinding even further through his faded black jeans.

  “Where’s the money?” she growled again through gritted teeth. She finally removed her foot. “We do not have time to go digging through every mildew-ridden inch of this shithole, James.”

  But he wasn’t caring about her just now. Instead, his eyes drifted back to and focused on the attractive woman she’d brought with her.

  Goldie looked back over shoulder. “Oh, yeah; this is James, by the way. He just likes to be called Aryan.”

  “Hi, James,” Rachel greeted amiably enough. “I’m Rachel.”

  “You’re a Hirosawa,” he rasped.

  “Yes,” Rachel nodded slightly. “Very astute. And you’re lucky that I was the Hirosawa sent to find you because if Michael were here, this whole ‘talking shit’ we’ve got going on right now, wouldn’t be going on right now.”

  “And now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way,” Goldie rolled her eyes, “we can get back to the business at hand. One last time, James,” she leaned in, locking gazes with him so as to make herself perfectly clear, “where’s the money?”

  Citizens of Rochester Hill would later report several gunshots which split the night apart like thunder. But then, as with every sky after a heavy storm, peaceful silence followed.

  * * *

  It was times like this Lilith Wells wished she had Eric’s phone number. She needed to tell him things were okay, that she wasn’t angry with him. His distressed look from the day before had plagued her all night, so much she hadn’t slept at all. She didn’t know when his pain had suddenly become her pain, but it appeared to be the way things worked now. She couldn’t neglect the irony of this whole situation being her fault; all she had to do that day on Cheshire Avenue was simply cross the street the way every other sensible person did when they saw a gaggle of rank Neo-Nazis coming towards them.

  All through the morning she moved through her job like a woman on the edge, speaking to no one, hearing nothing, glancing anxiously at the clock every five seconds hoping he would come in, and yet hoping he would not.

  When he did come in, right around ten, Lilith both exhaled in relief and tensed up tightly. She couldn’t forget they were being watched.

  He wasn’t angry with her; instead, she could see a glow in his eyes and color in his cheeks when he approached.

  “My office,” she muttered when he drew near, and he nodded without speaking. When they were alone, she spoke rapidly, “Michael knows about us.”

  Eric raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. This was going even better than he’d expected.

  “So there’s an ‘us’ now?” He moved towards her.

  Lilith rolled her eyes irritably. “Not now, Eric. Look, it’s not safe here—for either of us. Michael met up with me after you left yesterday, and apparently this whole place is being watched.”

  Eric tensed, and satisfied that he was finally grasping the gravity of the situation, Lilith went over to her desk where she swiftly scribbled something down on a post-it. “We can’t meet here again,” she explained in a hushed voice. “This is my address and here’s the key to my apartment. I get off work at five—meet me there.”

  He nodded, accepting the paper, and pausing to look at her as if expecting something. Lilith blushed as she realized w
hat it was, and while a part her wanted to kiss him once more, she was terrified to do so here.

  “Not now,” she repeated, more gently than before. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  * * *

  “This isn’t going to work.”

  Eric Quisling paced Lilith’s spacious, elegant apartment, feeling even more out place with each step. The dirty looks the doorman gave him hadn’t helped either. Everything was so clean, so obviously expensive, and beyond the living room, through tall, wide tinted windows, was Cherrywood as he’d never seen it before. It glittered and shone as evening fell, with the sunset reflecting off the skyscrapers of downtown.

  Eric’s heart pounded insanely, and before he could calm himself, he started seeing things again.

  This time, it was Madison he envisioned, lounging on one of Lilith’s armless couches and casually filing her French tips. She was dressed in a white version of her outfit from the night before, except her stockings this time were striped black and white. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, Madison was wearing a pair of tacky, glittery fairy wings.

  “You shouldn’t pace so much,” her apparition suggested in that sugary sweet voice of hers. “It’s not helping your mood.”

  “It’s soothing,” he bit out at her.

  “Yeah, sure,” she chuckled, “that’s why you’re seeing me. Because you’re so calm.”

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he snapped at the apparition, drawing up short right in front of her. “Look at this place, Madison; I don’t fit in here.” He tossed his arms helplessly. “This isn’t my life; it’s her life, and I so do not belong.”

  “Will you calm down?” she gently admonished him. “Look, a gal like Lilith probably has a stash of the good stuff somewhere around here. So just go into her kitchen, raid her freezer, and pour yourself some liquid courage already.” She scratched her head of black and pink braids, which she wore down this time. “You’re starting to make me nervous.”

  Eric gasped in relief. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” he breathed, and marched into the kitchen. Sure enough, Lilith had two bottles of top-shelf vodka on hand, and several crystal shot glasses. Unlike the cheap stuff, it didn’t burn going down.