Worcester Nights - The Boxed Set by Ophelia Sikes Page A

the black opening. Thick, ivory smoke billowed up from the eaves of the roof, visible just above. The wooden shingles of the house were buckled and twisting, as if the heat were pushing them out from within. The whole piece gave a sense of power – of intensity – and of imminent collapse.
    The feeling hung with me as I climbed onto the back of his bike, as we navigated the hellish doom which was Kelley Square and then headed further into the depths of Worcester. The brick warehouse was down a narrow, back alley, with high buildings on all sides. I could barely make out the blue sky above.
    He glanced at the black metal door, then me. He took off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar. “You stay right here,” he stated. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and then we can have that ride.” He smiled. “We should have time to make it down to Providence, to ride along the bay for a while. How does that sound?”
    I smiled. “It sounds lovely.”
    He patted me on the arm, and then he turned and went to the door. He knocked, the door was pulled open, and then it swung shut again.
    The image of Sean’s photo hung before me. The flames were almost alive in their bright, forge-hot glow. I could hear the groaning of the timbers, the whooshing of the air driven by the heat. Time ticked by and I wrapped my arms around my chest. Where was Sean? I wanted to get away, get out onto the open road, where the breeze blew free all worries and concerns. I knew the fresh salt air would shake loose these phantom thoughts.
    A scurry of a movement in the side alley made me jump, and I climbed off the bike before I knew I was doing it. I pulled off the helmet and tucked it under one arm. Maybe I would just ask to wait inside with him. Surely they couldn’t be much longer.
    I went to the door, and a crack of light shone along its edge. I realized that they hadn’t closed it fully after he went in. Maybe I could ease in without anybody noticing, and just stay by the door. I was sure they wouldn’t mind.
    A scratching noise came from the alley, and that settled the issue for me. I pushed the door open slightly and stepped in.
    The warehouse was fairly large, about the size of a football field, and all the windows were boarded over from the inside. The area near me was all in darkness and shadows, with stacks of boxes and other random supplies piled in haphazard heaps. A grouping of large lights on stands was at the far end, centered around in a circle. There were low voices and milling people.
    Curious, I stepped forward.
    I had reached a pyramid of Guinness cases when the scene resolved more clearly for me, and I staggered, leaning against them. It took a minute for my brain to catch up with my eyes, for the meaning of the scene to coalesce into a firm thought.
    The lights were all pointed at a large, king-sized bed, done up in black satin sheets with red accent pillows. The Japanese girl from several nights ago was sprawled, naked, across its center, and one hand languidly stroked the shaft of a middle-aged man who stood at the side of the bed. She looked half-bored, half-annoyed.
    On the other side of the bed, the Renaissance beauty from yesterday was standing with a crimson robe around her, her face done in bright makeup. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Mrs. O’Malley was speaking to her through gritted teeth, her voice low, but the emotion evident with every sharp movement of her hand.
    Finally she pointed to the bed, reached out her hand, and ripped the robe off of the girl, leaving her pale skin stark naked under the glare of the spotlights.
    I spun in place, racing the short distance to the door, slipping through, and closing it carefully behind me. My heart pounded against my ribs as if it wanted to break free and run … run …
    I climbed back onto the bike, in complete shock, retreating within my closed visor and my leather jacket. I wrapped my arms around my body, still unable to fully take in what I had seen.
    The door