Raising the Stakes

Dawn hadn’t felt much like a woman, not at twelve, but she’d known better than to talk back.

“Boys’ll start comin’ around you. Men, too. And I don’t never want to see you showin’ them any notice.”

“Yes, Mama,” she’d answered.

“You do and I’ll beat you till you can’t sit down. You got that?”

Dawn got it, even if the message hadn’t made much sense. Years later, she’d figured out that it was Orianna’s way of trying to keep her from leading the same life she did but back then, she’d wondered why her mother would warn her about men when she almost always had one in her bed, behind the closed door at the end of the trailer. The door wasn’t much of a barrier. Sounds came right through. Smells, too, that musky stench of sweat and sex that made her gag the first time Harman laid hands on her, even before she’d learned how horrible it was to be with a man.

“Dammit!”

She was back to thinking about Harman again when what she should be thinking about was tomorrow, and her new job, and what she and Tommy would do together this Sunday…

The doorbell rang.

Dawn swung around and stared in the direction of the front door as if she might be able to see through it. Who would come visiting at this hour? Who would come visiting her at all? Only Cassie, and Cassie had left a message on the machine saying she wouldn’t be coming by. Had she put the chain on? She couldn’t remember. She’d been so glad to be home, so impatient to phone Mrs. Wilton…

The bell rang again.

Your abuser can’t control you unless you let him. The steady voice of the Phoenix counselor echoed in her head. Dawn tossed the towel aside, slipped into her old terry-cloth robe and went to the door. Yes, the chain was on. She’d done it automatically.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me. Cassie.”

Cassie! Dawn almost laughed with relief as she undid the chain. “I thought you were working late.”

“Yeah, so did I, but here I am.” Cassie stepped into the living room and closed the door with her hip. “I figured I’d take the chance you hadn’t eaten yet,” she said, holding out a square white box. “Dinner.”

“Not only haven’t I eaten yet, I am positively starved.” She was, too, now that she thought about it. “That pizza smells wonderful.”

Cassie grinned and strolled past her. “Pizza?” she said dramatically, as she deposited the box on the kitchen table. “For shame, mademoiselle. Would I bring something as mundane as pizza?” She flung the lid back. “Regardez! Pizza ;aga la francaise!”

Dawn peered into the box. “Mmm. Onions. Garlic. Black olives. Ham. Cheese.” She took a deep breath, looked up and smiled. “It’s pizza, and it’s glorious.”

“Not glorious. Magnifique. You keep forgetting those sixteen weeks I spent at the Sands, strutting across the stage with the Eiffel Tower on my head. I know French when I see it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh, my derri;agere. These are olives ni;alcoise.” Cassie took one of the little black olives and popped it into her mouth. “And three different kinds of fromage, if you please.”

“And the ham?”

“You mean,” Cassie said, batting her lashes, “le jambon, oui?” She grabbed a piece and ate it. “It’s Parma.”

“Parma ham’s Italian.”

“Yeah, well, France is pretty close to Italy, isn’t it? You have any soda?”

“In the fridge.”

Dawn put a handful of paper napkins on the table while Cassie opened the refrigerator and took out two cans of soda. They sat down opposite each other and dug in.

“So,” Cassi

e said after a while, “I guess you had a memorable day.”

“Only if breaking down on Las Vegas Boulevard is your idea of memorable.” Dawn drank some soda. “How come you didn’t end up having to work tonight?”