The Pianist

Chapter Twenty-One

A week had gone by since the first time Molly had done Markley's bidding. The deal had been that she would return every single day and do whatever it was that Markley wished until the trial happened. Blaise had never questioned where it was that Molly was going to. He was much too tied up with legal matters. He did not even notice. Molly was thankful for that. Molly, judging by how awful the first time had been, was indeed expecting the very worse, and that was exactly what happened.

Her hands and her lips did most of the work as did his hands, all over her. She would close her eyes and try to imagine it was Gerard that she was pleasuring rather than this rat of a man. Still, that wasn't enough. Her imagination could only take her so far, but his voice always brought her back to reality. The grim, sick reality.

After every single time, Molly would wipe her lips, stand and stare at the scrawny man. "You're working on it, aren't you?" She'd whisper, watching as he rounded the desk and sat down, "You're going to save him?"

Markley would always smirk his dirty smirk as he lit his fat cigar. "Sure, sure," He'd mutter, rolling his eyes towards the girl, "Leave it to me, Doll face."

In a way, Molly allowed herself to believe him. She knew how unlikely it was, but she wanted so badly for it to be real, that Markley wasn't lying. That he love was not lost. The thought of Gerard escaping and being free with her again was enough to keep Molly going and believing what probably was not going to happen.

It was the day of the trial.

Molly sat in the limo, her face held low, concealed by a sheer veil, and a knee-length black dress. She felt like a statue. Her eyes were staring down at her porcelain hands on her lap. There were not tears in her eyes or sadness in her heart because she was believing what she wanted. Her only thoughts were of her Vein. She could imagine seeing him, smiling towards him, saving him. He was going to be free.

In the seat in front of them, Markley cleared his throat. Molly raised her head, feeling a ball of dread in her throat. She hated being around him now more than ever. He was always giving dirty little glances towards her, too discrete for Blaise or anybody else to notice. They made Molly want to throw up. "Now, all you have to do is stick to the story we discussed. Nobody gets hurt. We all leave like we planned," Markley coached, leaning forward on his elbows and looking between Molly and her father.

Blaise puffed on his pipe before shoving it into his pocket. "I plan on it," He mumbled, wiping his lips as the limo pulled to a hault, lowering down to the ground in front of the courthouse. "And you," His head turned grimly towards Molly, "Don't you dare do something you'd regret, Girl. Not today."

Molly simply stared at him. There was nothing she could do. It was out of her hands at this point, beyond anything she could possibly grasp. Molly jerked her eyes away from him towards the window and watched as the hovercar stopped entirely and the doors unlocked. Out the window, Molly could see a multitude of reporters standing around and watching the car. They all had their cameras and pens poised like they were reporting on the story of the century. In a way, they were, and Molly couldn't really blame them at all.

Blaise growled, clearly unamused by the attention, and he reached across the seat, clenching his hand around Molly's wrists. The man took a moment to compose himself before he popped open the door and stepped into the morning sunlight, dragging Molly along with him.

Among the bright sunlight and the camera flashes, Molly was nearly blind. She lowered her shamed face towards the ground as Blaise pulled her along up the courthouse steps. Niether he, nor Molly, nor Markley said a word to any of the reporters. They were not allowed to have any slip ups today. Everything was too important.