Color Photographs, Chapter Two

Sadie felt dirty all over. She walked into her apartment and loudly shut the door behind her as she slumped against it. It was one thing to marry a man who worked for a drug dealer, it was an entirely different thing to be abducted from her home and forced to participate. Mr. Resnick informed her that she’d married into the business.

She’d spent several hours weighing out small bags of weed, trying to keep from complaining. She’d informed Meyer before they got married that she didn’t intend get caught up in the drug business; apparently Mr. Resnick felt differently. He’d hugged Sadie as she finally convinced him to let her go home, letting his hands wander further down her back than they should’ve, commanding her that she wasn’t to tell Meyer anything.

Sadie miserably walked across her apartment. In the few days that passed since she found the folder, she found how difficult it was to keep secrets from her husband. He seemed to hear the things she didn’t say, and notice the things she wished would stay hidden. She wished she didn’t have yet one more thing to hide from Meyer. Still, she was more afraid of Mr. Resnick than she was her husband.

She quickly walked into the bathroom and stripped down, deciding she needed to get a shower before Meyer got home. He knew very well what pot smelled like, and she didn’t want him to smell it on her. Sadie took a quick shower, spending only as much time as she needed to thoroughly scrub herself with a bar of soap, then got out and wrapped a towel around herself. She walked out of the bathroom and stopped short.

Meyer smirked at her from where he sat sprawled across the couch. “You alright there, Sades?”

“Yeah,” she said, shaking herself. “You just… startled me.”

“I’m sure… Why are you taking a shower so early?”

“I was… sweaty,” she said, glancing down at his body. It was easier to lie to his chest than to his face. “Didn’t smell very good.”

“I see,” he answered. “Well, I put your clothes in the washer.”

Her eyes snapped back to his face, panicked. She searched his face, wondering if he’d noticed their smell. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face, his eyes cold and calculating as they surveyed her face.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, thank you,” she murmured quickly. She dipped her head and started toward the bedroom. “I need to get dressed.”

“Of course,” Meyer answered. “I think I may take a shower, too.”

“Great,” she said, relieved that she had a bit more time to think. “I’ll start dinner.”

Sadie shut the door to her bedroom and started getting dried off, kicking herself for being so obvious. She’d come with a plan for how she was going to keep Meyer from asking her questions about her day, and then in one foul move she messed all of those grand plans up. She didn’t have a plan B.

She quickly got dressed and moved to the kitchen, mindlessly chopping boiled chicken and dumping it into a pan. Sadie carefully refused to look up as she heard the bathroom door open. Instead she picked up a carrot and focused her attention on cutting it into even-sized slices.

Meyer walked over and stood next to the stove, within arm’s reach, and silently looked at her. Sadie kept her eyes on her work, even as Meyer started speaking. “Alright, what is it?”

“Chicken stir fry,” she answered, knowing very well that he wasn’t talking about dinner. “I precooked the chicken breast last night so it shouldn’t take very long to finish up tonight. I didn’t think to cook potatoes, though, so—”

“Sadie.”

“Sorry,” she continued quickly. “I think I have some boxed mashed potatoes I could fix if you’d like me to do that. That shouldn’t take long—”

“Stop,” he said firmly. “You know what I mean.”

“All I know is that I’m trying to cook dinner and you came over and asked what it is—”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I know,” she huffed. She dumped the carrot into the pan and grabbed a head of broccoli from the counter to dice. “But thankfully I’m a much better cook. It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten fat—”

“I know you’re hiding something.” He grabbed her wrist. She finally stopped moving, but her heart only seemed to race faster as she looked down at his hand. Something had to give. She couldn’t keep running from this conversation any longer, yet she couldn’t exactly ask him if he was a murderer. “I plan to find out what it is.”

Sadie took a deep breath and finally looked up to meet Meyer’s gaze. She saw concern mixed with anger in his stormy eyes, even as his harsh gaze surveyed her face. She set her jaw, suddenly remembering Mr. Resnick’s threats. She wasn’t about to get in trouble with Resnick just because Meyer had realized something was wrong.

“Congratulations,” she answered coldly.

“Don’t do this,” Meyer said tiredly. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

It’s not that simple, she thought. She wished it was. But suddenly life seemed much more complicated than it used to be.

“Why should I? You don’t trust me anyway.”

“Where did that even come from?”

Sadie jerked her arm away and stirred the pan of food, wondering why she was suddenly so angry. “Where did this come from? I didn’t ask to be interrogated.”

“No, but you came home smelling like pot.”

“So what?” She slammed the spoon down on the counter. “You do almost every day.”

“I work with it,” he spat. “Of course I do. I’ll freely admit, to you, my wife, the woman I’m not supposed to keep secrets from, that I help grow weed. I harvest it, I package it, I transport it, and I sell it. I hope this isn’t a shock to you. We’ve been over this before.”

“So why does it matter if I come home smelling like it one day?” Her temper was running hot, clouding her judgment.

“It doesn’t.” He threw his heavily tattooed arm across the entryway, barring her path as she tried to walk past him. “What matters is that you’ve been avoiding me for days and won’t give an explanation why. I think I deserve that. It’s the least you could do.”

She cursed at him, her fist flying into his jaw before she realized what she was doing. He seemed as startled as she was as he recoiled, shaking his head. She darted past him, scarcely able to breathe, an overwhelming impulse deep inside shouting at her to run.

“The least I can do is keep you from being in danger.” She snatched her phone from the table.

“What are you talking about?”

“You what to know what happened, why I smelled like weed—fine!” She whirled around on him as he followed her through the apartment. She jabbed her finger into his chest as she spoke. “Some of your friends came by earlier and put a gun in my face and told me that Resnick wanted me. I get to that ratty little trailer and he said that he’s behind on an order and wants me to weigh out a whole shipment of his junk.”

“He didn’t say anything about that to me,” Meyer said, his brow growing dark.

“I don’t imagine he did,” she spat. “He told me it would be, and I quote, ‘the biggest mistake of my life’ if I told you.”

“Why?”

“Hell if I know. Why don’t you go ask him? I’m done talking.” She walked out of the apartment, slamming the door loudly behind her. She ignored Meyer’s voice commanding her to stop, to come back, as she stormed down the stairs and outside, then down the cracked sidewalk.

Sadie stopped by the first gas station she passed to buy a pack of cigarettes. She didn’t usually smoke, but then she wasn’t usually as angry as she was now. She puffed furiously on one cigarette after another, desperately trying not to cry even though she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

You really shouldn’t have blown up on him like that, she thought. He really didn’t do anything wrong. You’re the one who was lying to him. You don’t even know for sure that he’s done anything wrong—you just jumped to conclusions.

Part of her wished Meyer would show up and demand she come home. Wiping her eyes roughly Sadie glanced down at her phone. She’d been walking for almost two hours. The sun was long since set and an eerie darkness suddenly filled the space between each building.

A text from Meyer made her phone light up: “Are you safe?”

Sadie sniffed. I don’t deserve him, she thought. She’d exploded on him for no reason, and even hit him, and he was still concerned about her safety. If he’d her, even if he hadn’t hit her as hard as she’d hit him, she wouldn’t care what was happening to him right now.

For the first time since she left she actually looked at her surroundings, only to realize she didn’t recognize anything about the place. The ritzy buildings had given way to mostly abandoned shops, many of which had their windows broken out. The streets were deserted. A single street light flickered at the corner of the block, shedding sickly light in a broken circle on the ground around it.

“I’m fine. No idea where I am, though,” she answered. She held the phone tightly in her clenched fist, finding security in the fact that she still could talk to Meyer. Her husband had quite the reputation in this city. If she had any problems with anyone saying she was his woman would either save her get her killed for certain—she hoped the former.

Sadie turned around and started back down the street the way she came from. Another text: “What’s around you? I’m coming to get you.”

Suddenly the thought of his presence was very welcomed and brought with it a sense of safety. She lifted the phone and took a picture of the one shop that looked as if it was still in business, then texted it to her husband.

She glanced behind her as a car appeared from an alley several blocks away and started towards her. She flicked the collar of her jacket up and ducked her head, hoping she didn’t draw any attention. The car slowed as it approached. She felt her heart speed up once again, but refused to look back until she heard a voice.

“Hey!” Mr. Resnick held the back door of a shiny black car open. “Sadie!”

“Oh, hi,” she murmured, lifting a hand in acknowledgement.

“What are you doing here?”

“Taking a walk.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Did you and Mey get into a fight?”

“No,” she lied.

“Well, come on, let me give you a ride.”

Sadie hesitated. It wasn’t safe to walk alone at night, especially in this part of town. But the look on Mr. Resnick’s face made her pretty sure that it wasn’t safe to go with him, either. “That’s alright.”

“No, I insist.”

“Really, I’d rather just walk.”

The car came to a stop and the driver got out. He was a man dressed in a black suit who towered head and shoulders over Sadie. He pulled a gun out of his jacket and pointed it at her. “Get in the car, now.”