Chapter Seventeen

In which our heroine prepares to escape.

In the basement, Leon led Lorinda to a stack of booze boxes pushed up against a wall. He slid the boxes aside — they were empty — revealing a small door. “Watch your head,” he said, opening it. They went through, crossed another basement to another stack of boxes concealing another little door. When opened, it revealed a staircase. Leon headed up. Lorinda followed.

The door above them opened when they were halfway upstairs. “Come on, come on, I ain’t got all day,” said the woman at the door. 

“That’s Sharon,” Leon said over his shoulder to Lorinda. “You just ignore her.” Leon got to the top, said to Sharon, “All right then, here she is, I’ve done my job, I’m back to Crystal’s.” He gave Sharon a slap on the ass and walked past her and out the back door. 

“You’re Lorinda,” said Sharon as Lorinda reached the top step. She was around fifty, beautifully made-up and coiffed, lots of bangles on her wrists, a rather fancy dress. “Crystal says you’re in trouble.”

“Crystal’s right. Hi.” Lorinda reached out to shake hands. 

Sharon ignored the hand and gave her a hug, then stepped back and looked Lorinda up and down. “No time to do a whole job on you,” Sharon said, “but I can maybe do a little from the waist up. That’s all they’ll see through the truck windows. Stay here. Don’t move.” She reached around Lorinda to close and lock the basement door, then took off for the next room. When she opened its door, Lorinda heard some kind of unfamiliar music floating in.

“What do you do here?” Lorinda called.

“It’s my beauty salon. Sharon’s Salon. Best in Little Harlem. Best in the whole damn country.” 

She returned with a folding chair, which she opened and practically shoved Lorinda into. Then she ran out again and returned momentarily with three wigs, a pair of sunglasses, a green smock, and a hairbrush.

“What is that?” Lorinda said, thumbing upward and out, indicating the music.

“That?” Sharon smirked. “Yeah, that’s right. You’ve probably never heard anything like that. That’s a group called Outkast. They were big. For a while. Way before The Split. I don’t know what y’all listen to now.”

Sharon dumped all but the hairbrush on a shelf and immediately started brushing Lorinda’s hair, securing it in back with an elastic she took off her wrist. Then she held each of the three wigs — one black, one blond, one red — up to Lorinda’s face. “They’ll be looking for a brunette,” Sharon said. “I’m thinking you want to get as far from brunette as you can.” She tossed the black one back on the shelf. “And you got that straight hair,” she continued, “so I think we want to go a little afro on y’all.” The blond wig was a big curly puffball. She fit it carefully over Lorinda’s head, stepped back, stepped in again to adjust it, and said, “I think that’s you. And by ‘you’ I mean someone who don’t look nothin’ like you. Stay right there.” 

She popped out and returned in a few seconds with a small mirror, which she passed to Lorinda. “Wow, amazing,” said Lorinda. “I might just wear this forever.”

“You might have to, darlin’.” Sharon took the mirror back, set it on the shelf, and handed Lorinda the smock. “This ain’t no designer blouse,” she said, “but it’s a different color than what you’re wearing and that’s what matters.” 

Lorinda stood and slipped into the smock. Sharon snapped the snap and tied the belt, then handed her the sunglasses. “Someone left these here last month,” she said. “If she ever comes back for them I’ll send her after you. Here, have a look.” She held up the mirror.

The sunglasses were bigger than any Lorinda had ever worn before. She stared at herself in the mirror. “I look kind of … glamorous, I guess. Never thought I’d say that.”

“Good. They won’t be looking for a glamor queen.”

“Hope so.”

Sharon stepped over to the back door, opened it, looked out, gave a quick wave and returned to Lorinda. “Time for you to go. Your boys are here.”

“Who are they?”

“They’re your ticket out of here. Underground Railroad.” 

“Huh?” 

“Don’t worry. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Lorinda shrugged. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. You’ll pay me when you can, which ain’t now. You gotta get going. C’mon, get outta here.”

Lorinda stood, scooped up her purse from the floor, and said, “Thank you, Sharon.”

“Keep yourself safe,” Sharon said, easing Lorinda out the door. “Oh, and take this.” She tossed her the red wig. “One more thing.” Sharon took both of Lorinda’s hands and fixed her with a dead-serious stare. “You do what those boys tell you. Cause I don’t think you know what you’ve gotten into with this. You attacked an agent. You may have a baby they want, but that’s where their pro-life bullshit ends. Those people coming after you — think about what kind of person takes that job. They ain’t pediatricians, and they ain’t nursery school teachers. They want the baby. They don’t give a damn about you. So keep that in mind.” She dropped Lorinda’s hands and shooed her away. “Now get going. And good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

NEXT: Chapter Eighteen. In which our heroine gets in a truck with a couple of slightly scary strangers.

PREVIOUSLY in THE SPLIT!

Chapter One. In which we meet our heroine and her dainty little gun.

Chapter Two. In which Lorinda demonstrates her bartending virtuosity.

Chapter Three. In which our heroine receives a promotion and prepares to celebrate.

Chapter Four. In which our heroine proves herself an immoral citizen of the CCSA.

Chapter Five. In which our heroine goes to church.

Chapter Six. In which Lorinda contemplates her future, ignores Pastor Doug, and gets something unexpected from Emmie.

Chapter Seven. In which Lorinda learns something that threatens her big dream.

Chapter Eight. In which our heroine freaks out.

Chapter Nine. In which our heroine says the forbidden word as an unwelcome visitor arrives.

Chapter Ten. In which two unpleasant men perturb our heroine.

Chapter Eleven. In which our heroine seems to have found a solution to her problem.

Chapter Twelve. In which that black truck follows our heroine all the way to Austin.

Chapter Thirteen. In which Lorinda lashes out.

Chapter Fourteen. In which our heroine gets a taste of life in the big city.

Chapter Fifteen. In which our heroine meets a fellow bartender and has a drink.

Chapter Sixteen. In which Lorinda once again takes a swing with her little pink gun.

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