Keeper (41 page)

I went after him, trying to be more polite about my pursuit, but the fire door had already swung shut by the time I reached it. I slammed the release bar down and pushed, stepped out into the alley, checking left and then right, spotting him as he reached Tenth Avenue, then turned the comer.

By the time I could make the avenue, he’d be gone.

I thought about going after him anyway, then decided I’d gotten off easily and had better not push my luck. My breath was condensing in the mid-November air, and it was cold out, and getting colder. There was a wind blowing, too, floating the smells of alcohol, urine, and exhaust down the alley.

I heard the rubber seal at the base of the fire door scraping the ground, saw Erika stepping out to look past me to the avenue. The door swung shut slowly, and I heard the latch click. “You broke his fucking nose,” she declared. “Probably,” I said. “What’d you do?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything.”

“Something scared him off,” I said. “What did he want?”

“He wanted to top me.”

“With a knife?”

She shrugged, faked a shiver, and said, “I’m going back inside.”

“The hell you are.”

Erika stopped, turned her head and tossed her hair much as she had done to Trouble. “What?”

“You’re fifteen, Erika. Isn’t that right?” “Twenty-one,” she said immediately.

“You got some proof of that?”

“Atticus. You know who I am.”

“Exactly.”

She waited for more, and then realized that was my whole argument.

“Fuck you,” she said, finally, then spun on one of her too-high heels, making to go back inside. I let her, because she couldn’t get far. It was a fire door, after all, and there was no handle on the outside. Great for exiting the building in a hurry, not so good for a return trip.

It took her a second to come to the same conclusion. “I’ll go through the front. No problem. I’ve done it before.” She brushed past me, heading down the alley.

“I’ll make sure you’re carded.”

“I’ve got ID.”

“I’ll tell them it’s fake,” I said.

That stopped her once more. Without turning, she said, “I fucking hate you.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

“Go to hell,” Erika snarled. She turned and pointed a finger at me. “Where the fuck am I going to sleep tonight?”

“At home.”

“You are so wrong.” She threw her hands out as if to ward me off, then began shaking her head and muttering. The wind kicked up, gusted down the dark street, and I felt its teeth through my jacket. Erika had goose bumps on her skin, and the cheap lace of her top made her pale breasts stand out in contrast. I looked toward Tenth Avenue, feeling like a dirty old man.

She certainly wasn’t dressing fifteen.

“Why the fuck are you doing this?” Erika demanded.

I took off my jacket and offered it to her. She ignored it. “Where the hell do you get off telling me I can’t go back in there? What’s your fucking problem, huh?”

“You’re underage, Erika,” I said. “Will you put this on?”

“So fucking what?”

“So it’s illegal that’s so fucking what. How’d you get in there?”

“None of your business.”

“Will you please put this on?”

“Why?”

“Because I can see your nipples and they’re erect and I embarrass easily,” I said.

Erika checked her front, then grabbed a breast in each hand and looked at me. “That’s the point, asshole,” she said, squeezing, her thumbs and forefingers pinching flesh.

“Put on the goddamn jacket, Erika.”

She grabbed my coat and put it on.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she said.

I began heading toward Tenth Avenue, walking slowly, hoping she’d join me. After five steps, she did, falling in on my left.

We were almost to the comer when Erika asked, “How you been?” She asked it like I’d seen her yesterday and we’d maybe just caught a movie, then done some window-shopping at Macy’s.

“I’ve been better. Why aren’t you at home? Why aren’t you in D.C.?”

Erika laughed. “The Colonel retired, lives in Garrison now. I don’t even live with him.”

“So where do you live?”

“Wherever I find a bed, dipshit.” She stopped, checked her tone, then continued, more patiently. “That’s why I need to get back in there, Atticus. That’s where I’m going to find my shelter for the night.”

This time, I stopped. “You’re tricking?” “Sometimes, I guess. Sure.”

“What the hell’s happened? Why aren’t you living at home?”

Erika took an impatient breath and looked off past my shoulder, shoving her hands into the pockets of my army jacket. The gesture revealed her age, the jacket much too big for her, the miniskirt almost entirely swallowed by its hem. The light on the street wasn’t fantastic, but I could see her eyes clearly, and they looked fine, her pupils equal. She didn’t seem to be on anything. I waited.

Erika said, “They got a divorce, you know that, right?”

“I heard a rumor.”

She ran a knuckle over the bridge of her nose, wiping imaginary club grime away. “Yeah, well, the rumor is true. Maybe a year after you left, Mom took off. They’ve been fighting since then, over money, over me, you name it. It all went final about a year ago. I don’t even know where she is these days, and frankly I don’t fucking care. So, I live with the Colonel, just him and me . . . and he doesn’t go out much anymore, you know?” She was still watching something beyond me, keeping her gaze distant. “He sort of sees me ... he sort of sees me as in-home entertainment. So I don’t like to be around the house that much.”

In-home entertainment. I swallowed, felt a little sick as all of the implications of that phrase hit home.

An NYPD sector car turned off the avenue and headed down the street, passing us. Erika watched its progress, and when it stopped in front of the warehouse, she said, “Guess somebody called the cops, huh?”

“How long has it been going on, Erika?”

She shrugged, picking a spot on the pavement that interested her. “He retired a little before it went final, brought me home from school, I was going to boarding school in Vermont.” She rubbed her hands against her upper arms, making friction for heat. “You going to take me home now? I’m fucking freezing my tits off.”