Page 22 of Christmas Souls

A man I don't recognize enters the cell. We're getting a little crowded in here, but I need to know who this is.

"Hey Michael, I'm Henry Gilmore. Your parents hired me to defend you."

"There's nothing to defend, I'm guilty."

"Now, don't you go saying that out loud until we've talked things through. And who might this be?"

Mandy gets up and thrusts her hand out to greet the lawyer.

"I'm Mandy Schmidt. I'm the reason for the assault. You need to hear what I have to say."

They shake hands, and the lawyer smiles at us. He asks me to tell him my side of things first, and I lay it all out, being careful about what I say regarding Mandy. After I'm finished, he asks Mandy for her side of the story. She tells him how the mayor propositioned her and threatened her. The lawyer now has everything in a voice recording and will give us written statements later to sign.

I thank him for his help, and he leaves us alone once again. Mandy is next to me, wringing her hands on her lap.

"I don't want to pressure you…" I say.

"I'll tell you. I just don't know where to start."

"Start when you got to New York—five years ago."

She wraps her arms across her stomach and trembles. I want to hold her, but I'm not sure if I should with all the police officers out there, so I just sit next to her, our thighs touching.

"I had stars in my eyes. I thought it would be this big adventure and that I would come out winning. Instead, it was crappy apartments, jealous competitors, and endless uncertainty. I went to all the auditions, but they needed headshots, and I had to look a certain way."

She takes a deep breath and continues, “Everything cost money, and my meager savings went down the drain in the first six months I was there. By then, I was desperate to get a job, any job. One of the girls that I would see often at the auditions took pity on me—or, at least, I thought she did—and said there was this job: dancing. And that if I needed money for headshots or beauty treatments, I could ask my employer for an advance."

"Who was it? The employer?"

"A man named Jensen Buchanan. I was clueless, and he told me he'd support my dream of going on Broadway, but during the evenings, I needed to be one of his dancers. There was room and board included. All I had to do was be there at night. My tips, though, would have to go towards my debt."

"Bastard." My hands are fisted, and my knuckles are white with how much I want to hurt this guy.

"I thought I could do it. Dancing is dancing, right? I'm good at that. The girls backstage were friendly, and it was relatively easy work for me. I just didn't know how the dancing and the stress from the debt were going to affect me. I was tired all day and most times missed my auditions."

"Why didn't you call home for help?" I ask.

"I was a stripper in a seedy nightclub. I'd lost all my savings, and I hadn't gotten one job on Broadway or dancing in any theater. I was at my lowest point, and I just didn't see any way out of it. Besides, the way I left things between us was less than ideal."

"My love for you is deeper than that, Mandy."

I flinch at having said the words here in this jail cell, but I need her to understand my feelings for her have not changed but increased in intensity.

"I guess I know that now."

"How were you able to get away?"

"I told him the truth.” She shrugged. “I had an inheritance that would cover most of my debt to him, but I needed a couple of months to be able to get that money to him."

"You couldn't know how long it would take to sell the house."

"I was trying to be optimistic."

"How much do you owe him?"

"Back at Christmas, it was around seventy-five thousand. Now, it’s probably up to one hundred. I'm sorry, Michael."

She covers her eyes with her hands and starts crying earnestly.