He closed his eyes, swallowing as he tried to gather up his emotions. He'd never loved Jenny romantically, but she'd been his best friend. Hell, his only friend until they met Riley when he was ten and Riley was thirteen.
She knew him as well as he knew himself, and vice-versa. And even after all these years, the pain of losing her was palpable.
"Did she die in a car wreck? Is that why you drive the Volvo?"
He almost smiled. Instead, he got back on the bed, then sat facing her, his back to the footboard. "You're getting ahead of the story. That's act three. In act two, the bitch who owned the house decided that Jenny needed to either leave or work."
"What about her mother?"
"Her mom was a junkie. She would have flat out sold Jenny if she thought she'd score some crack."
"Oh." She licked her lips. "And your mom?"
"She was a wreck," he said, "but I loved her. And she thought she was doing her best by me. Thought that by working in that house she was feeding me and clothing me. Keeping me off the street. Shit."
He winced as sharp-edged memories sliced through him.
"Lyle--" Hearing his name with her sweet voice was like a balm, and when she scooted down the bed and took his hand, it just about shattered him.
He closed his eyes, trying to block the memories. Of all the times he'd tried to convince his mother to leave that life. To tell her that they'd survive somehow.
He knew they could; he'd met folks in the house who could help. It wasn't high class, and most of the johns had records as long as their arms. Even when Lyle was barely twelve, he knew who to go to if he needed a gun or a fake ID or drugs. Not that he did drugs--he saw too clearly what they did to Jenny's mom. But information was the only currency he had, and so he watched, and he soaked it all in.
He drew a breath, then continued his story. "And then one of my mom's johns beat the shit out of her. I was fifteen, and I'd snuck up from the cellar to the kitchen. I heard her scream, and I ran to her room, but he knocked me back, and I hit my head. I didn't pass out, but I couldn't get up. All I could do was watch as he--"
"He killed her?"
He clenched his fists, willing words to return. "That would have been kind. Instead, he beat the shit out of her while I slumped there, totally useless."
"You were hurt." Her words were a whisper, meant to soothe.
It didn't work. He'd heard those words before, and they were always hollow.
"She died three days later, and even though she was in a hospital, I saw the pain on her face. Even with a goddamn morphine drip, I know she suffered."
He'd been looking at his hands, but now he lifted his head and saw the tears streaming down Laine's lovely face.
"What did you do?" she whispered.
"I stayed. I was so fucking pathetic that I earned my keep cleaning the damn house and doing minor repairs. Three long months, and then everything changed. Because that's when the bitch who owned the house said that it was time for Jenny to start working."
"You ran. You both ran."
He nodded. "Jenny dreamed of Hollywood, and I knew she could make it here. She wanted to be huge. Top billing. Tons of money. The world at her fingertips. And so, yeah, we ran. I stole some crack from her mom and traded it for fake ID's and records from one of the johns. And Riley helped us steal a car from the impound yard."
"The impound yard?"
"His dad was the sheriff. Riley's three years older than me, but he came around the house with his dad enough that we became friends. He's seen a lot, and he knew the score."
"His dad came to arrest the women?"
Lyle scoffed. "No one bothered enforcing prostitution laws. Hell, there would have been a riot. No one admitted going there, but for a place no one acknowledged, it was always full."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, his dad--well, his dad was a good guy. He knew what Riley did for us, and he turned a blind eye."
"Lucky break."
"Maybe too lucky," Lyle said. "I was the one with the plan. I had the idea to steal the car. To get new identities. And when we finally took off down the highway in the dead of night, I hadn't slept in days, I'd been so hyped up on plans and fear and adrenaline."