GRIEVOUSJ.M.DarhowerContents
Grievous
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
AlsobyJ.M.Darhower
Copyright?2017byJ.M.Darhower
Allrightsreserved.
Nopartofthisbookmaybereproducedinanyformorbyanyelectronicormechanicalmeans,includinginformationstorageandretrievalsystems,withoutwrittenpermissionfromtheauthor,exceptfortheuseofbriefquotationsinabookreview.ScarletScarscontainsthemesthataredarkinnature.Somescenesmaybedifficulttoread.Readerswhoaretriggeredbyviolentorsexualcontentshouldproceedwithcaution.
WARNINGToJarJarBinks
I’msorryeveryoneintheuniverseseemstohateyou.griev·ous
/?ɡrēv?s/
adjective
adjective:grievous
1.(ofsomethingbad)verysevereorserious.
synonyms:grave,dreadful,terrible,crushing
“agrievouswound”ChapterOne
“Ihavesomethingforyou.”
Thosewordsrangoutfromtheopendoorwayofthebedroom…andnotforthefirsttime,either.Ihavesomethingforyou.Thelittlegirlslowlyturnedinthechairatthedesk,turningawayfromthewindowwithsnowfallingoutside,awayfromtheblankpaperandpileofmixedup,brokencrayons.
TheTinManstoodthere,dressedinadarksuit,hishandhiddenbehindhisback.
“IsitBuster?”sheasked,tryingtoignoretheswellinginherchestthatreallyhopeditwas.Ithadbeenanotherweekwithouthim.Anotherweekwithouthermother.Toomanyweeks
TheTinMan’sfacetwisted,likeherquestionmadehimangry.NotBuster.
Thelittlegirlfrowned,turningbacktothefrostywindow.“No,thankyou.”
“ButitisChristmastoday,”hesaid,“soyougetapresent.”
Herbrowfurrowed.Itwasn’tChristmas.Notanymore.They’dmissedChristmas.Santahadn’tcome.“It’sthenewyearnow.”
“True,butitisstillChristmas.”
Shejustshookherhead,staringatabareredcrayononthedesk,allofthepaperpeeledoffandscatteredaroundinfrontofher.Redcrayonwaxwascakedunderherfingernailsfrompickingatitthatmorning.
TheTinManmadenosense.
HowcoulditbeChristmasstill?
“Useyourwords,kitten.”
Useyourwords.Healwayssaidthat,likeshewasn’tallowedtohaveanythoughtsthatjustbelongedtoher.Shehadtomakethemintowordsandgivethemtohim.Hewasalwaystakingeverything
“Idon’thavenowords,”shesaid.“Ijustwannagoaway.”
“Youwanttogoaway?”heasked,hisfootstepscomingthroughtheroomasheapproached.“Orwouldyoulikemetogoaway?”
Hestoppedbehindher,hisshadowcoveringthedesklikeastormcloudhadmovedinandblockedallthesunshine.Hetouchedhershoulderandlittlegirlfroze,whispering,“Iwantyoutogo.”
Hishanddartedoverassoonasshesaidthat,grippingherjawsohardshecriedout.Itfeltlikeametalclaw.Heyankedherfaceup,forcingherheadback,bangingitagainstthechairashemadeherlookathim.Hisexpressionwashard,hiseyesascoldasiceastheyglareddownather.Hisroughtouchleftfinger-shapedmarksonthepaleskinshe’dgottenfromhermother.
Tearsstungthelittlegirl’seyes,herthroatburning.
“YouthinkIwillnothurtyoubecauseyouaresmall?”Hishandmovedtoherchubbycheeks,squeezingthemhard,makingherpurseherlips.“YouthinkIwillnothurtyoubecauseyoulooksomuchlikethewomanwhohasmyheart?”
“Shehasyourheart?”thelittlegirltriedtoaskastearsfelldownhercheeks,thewordssoundinglikeamuffledsob,butheunderstood.
“Shehasallofme.Ilovethatsukamorethanshecouldeverunderstand.Ilovehertodeath,kitten.ThemomentIsawher,Iknewshewouldbemine.Igavehereverything,andallshehadtodowaslovemeback.”
Heclosedhiseyes,likethosewordshurthim,ashishandshiftedagain,pressingagainstherthroatuntilshecouldn’tbreathe.Shetried,suckinginair,butitfeltlikeherlungswerebroken,liketheyhadaholeinthemsoeverythingleakedoutuntilshewaschoking.
Choking.
Thelittlegirlstruggled,grabbinghishandwithherown.Hiseyesopenedwhenshetouchedhim,somethingflickeringinthem,likeflamesroaredinsideofhim.
Heletgorightaway.
Thelittlegirlinhaledsharply,touchingherneckasherwholebodyshook.Whydidhedothat?
Frombehindhisback,theTinManpulledoutastuffedcat.Small,andcalico,witharedbowarounditsneck.Hetosseditonthedeskinfrontofher,ontopofherbrokencrayons.
“MerryChristmas,kitten,”hesaidasheturnedaway.“Iloveyou.”ChapterTwo
“Youknow,whenyoumentionedbreakfast,Ikindofthoughtyouweregoingtogohomeandmakepancakesagain.”
Lorenzolaughs,standingonthestreetcornerintheChelseaneighborhood,justdownfromalittlehole-in-the-wallMexicanplacethatstaysopentwenty-fourhours.Heclutchesastyrofoamcontainer,ateighto’clockinthemorning,eatingthemostgiganticburritoI’veeverseeninmylife.
Fourbucks,cashonly.
Hemademeorderone,too.
Orrather,IsaidIwasn’thungryandhesaid,‘fuckthat,I’mgettingyouoneandyou’regoingtoeatit,’likethegentlemanheis.I’mgratefulforit,eventhoughIpitchedafit.
Turnsout,it’sdelicious
“Can’tbelieveyou’venevereatenthere,”hesays.“IthoughtitwasarequirementtobeaNewYorker.”
“I’mnotyourtypicalNewYorker,”Ipointout.“Ineverreallygottheexperience.Toobusyslingingpussy,Iguess.”
AwomanwalksbyasIsaythat,clutchingherchestandcastingmealook,likeshemightcatchsomethingbywalkingnearme.Yeah,likesomefuckinghumandecency,maybe.Iscowlather,chompingonmyburrito,waitingforthelighttochangesowecancrossthestreet.
Theoldbatteredteddybearistuckedbeneathmyarm.Iprobablylookridiculous,Iknow,likeIescapedfromsomehospital’smentalward.Peoplecastlooksatmelikethey’regenuinelyconcernedaboutmysanity,whichisfunny,consideringIfeelmoreatpeaceinthismomentthanI’vefeltinawhile.“Youeverworryyoumightreallybecrazy?”
“Worry?No.I’mprettysure.”
“You’reprettysureyou’recrazy?”
“Yes.”
Ilaugh,lookingathim,seeinghe’swatchingmecuriously.Thelightchangesandpeoplegoaroundus,buthedoesn’tmove.Notrightaway.
“There’snothingwrongwithbeingcrazy,”hesays.“It’salljustamatterofperception.Hell,Ithinkmybrother’scrazy,workingsomebullshitjobwithhisbeautyqueengirlfriendstudyingwhatevershe’sstudying,spendingtensofthousandsforalittlepieceofpaperthat’lldeclarehercompetentenoughtogetherownbullshitjobwhereshe’llmakenotevenafractionofwhatImake,whenIdidn’tevenfinishhighschool.Buttheworldthinksthat’snormal,andreally,that’sallnormalcyis—it’swhateverfuckingbrandofcrazyhasthemajority.”
Hegoesonsolong,staringatme,thatthelightchangesagainandpeoplegatheraroundus.
Istayquiet,waitinguntilit’ssafetowalk.
“Besides,”Lorenzosays,turningtocrossthestreet,“crazygetsshitdone,Scarlet.”
Westrollalong,finishingourburritos,neitherofussayingmuchofanythingafterthat.He’sright,Iguess.Maybewe’reallcrazy.Maybethetrickinlifeisjusttofindsomeonewhosecrazyplayswellwithyourown.
Afterwediscardourtrash,Lorenzoheadsforthesubway.It’spackedwithcommutersatthishour,sotherearen’tanyseatsleft,evenstandingroomscarce.Lorenzograbsapole,pullingmeinfrontofhimwithoutaword.It’scozy.Warm.HisarmdrapesaroundmeasIrestmyheadagainsthischest.
He’ssowarmIalmostfallasleepstandingthere.
Ittakesforty-fiveminutestomakeittohishouse.Assoonaswewalkinside,wecomeface-to-facewithLeoandMelody,whoaredressedforthedayandheadingout.Leoworksinsomefancyassrestaurant,onethatrequireshewearatuxedo,whereasMelodyiscarryingherbackpackfullofbooksforclass.It’sallsopicture-perfect.
Normal
Leoeyesus.“Longnight?Youbothlooklikehellthismorning.”
“Don’tyouhavesomewheretobe?”Lorenzoasksrightaway.“Somewherethatdoesn’tincludetalkingtome?”
Leolaughsatthat,slappingLorenzo’sshoulder.“ButIalwayshavetimeformybigbrother.”
“Gotowork,”Lorenzosays.“Yougetfired,you’refucked,becauseI’mnotpayingforFirecracker’swininganddining,soallromancewillbeoff.”
“Oohhh,”Melodysays,makingafaceasshegrabsLeo’sarm.“Youknowwhatnoromancemeans…”
“Nopussy?”Iguess.
NowLeomakesaface.
“Good,”Lorenzosays.“Maybethenthey’llkeeptheirclothesonandstopplayingSlip‘nSlideonmydamncouchallofthetime.”
“Speakingofthecouch,”Leochimesin,“youwerejustkidding,right?Youdidn’treallystealthenewcouchfromsomestripclub.”
Assoonashesaysthat,Iglanceintothelivingroom,seeingafamiliarblackleathercouchwithgoldaccents.Ohgod,didheseriously…?
“DoyouthinkI’dreallydothat?”Lorenzoasks.
“I’mhopingnot,”Leogrumbles.
“Gotowork,”LorenzotellshimagainbeforeturningtoMelody.“Andyou,gowhereveritisyougowhenyou’renotinmyhouse,breathingupallofmyoxygen.”
Theygrumblegoodbyesandheadout,whileLorenzostandsthere,staringatthedoor,makingsurethey’regonebeforeturningtome.
Helookslikehehassomethingtosay,butIbeathimtotalking.
“Youstoleacouch,”Isay,“fromastripclub.”
“So?”
“Sodoyouknowwhathappensonthosecouches?”
“Probablythesameooey-gooeyshitmybrotherdoesonit,butitdoesn’tmatter.Idisinfectedit.”
“Youdisinfectedit.”
“Yeah,gotacanofLysolandsprayedthefuckoutofthething.”
Iscrubmyhandsovermyface.“I,uh…I’mtootiredtothinkofaresponsetothat.”
“Thencomeon,”hesays,steppingpastme.“Let’sgotobed.”
Idon’targuewiththat.Bedsoundslikeabeautifulplacetobe,soIfollowhimupstairs.Assoonaswereachhisroom,Ikickoffmyshoesandyankoffmyhoodie,fallingintothebedwithasigh,stillclutchingthedamnbear.
Lorenzostripsdowntonothing,asusual,beforeclimbinginbesideme.
Thirtyseconds,ifeventhat.Myeyesdriftclosed,exhaustiontakingover.Lorenzo’salreadysnoring.Sleephitsmehard.
Outlikealight
Idon’tknowhowmuchtimepassesbeforeI’mjoltedbackawake,butmybodyissoreandtheroomisdim,growingdarker,soIsenseit’slate.Isleptalldamnday.Groggy,rubbingmyeyes,Ipullmyselfuptoasitassomethingfallsintomylap.
Buster
Ithitsmeagainthen,asIpickupthebear.ThepressureinmychestmakesmefeellikeI’msuffocating.Myfingersexplorethebear’sbeat-upface,caressingthefilthyfurandshovingstuffingbackintotheholes.
IwonderedifI’deverseethethingagain.Iwonderedwhereitendedupandhoped—no,countedon—itbeingwithSasha.Shedoesn’thaveme,I’mnottheretoprotecther,butIthoughtshe’datleasthaveherbestfriendBuster.
Shedoesn’t,though.
She’sallalone.
SoamI.
Intheliteralsense,onmypart.
Lorenzo’snothere.
Ireachover,runningmypalmalongthecoldsheets.He’sbeengonesolongthatthebed’snolongerwarm.
Sighing,Igetup,trudgingovertotheclosettopulloutmyduffelbagthat’stuckedintheback,alongthebottom.Ishiftthroughit,grabbingthesmallblackcellphone,pluggingitintothechargerusingthewallsocketasIsitdownonthefloor.
Afterafewminutes,asIholdontothebear,thephonepowersup,comingtolifeagain.Thereareonlyafewnumbersprogrammedintoit,andIhitthebuttontocallthetopone,bringingittomyear.
Itringsafewtimes,asIinwardlypanic,avoiceinmyheadscreamingformetohanguprightthefucknow,butthedevilonmyshoulderisn’thavingthat.Thelinepicksup,avoicecalmlygreetingme,theRussianaccentstillthickdespitehimlivinginAmericaforyears.“Ihavebeenwaitingforyoutocall.”
Heknowsit’sme.I’mnotsurehow.Ikeepmynumberblockedforthisreason,butyetsomehow,healwaysknows
Idon’tsayanything.
Ican’tfindthewords.
Myvoicedoesn’twanttowork.
Iusedtohavealottosay,butmypleasalwaysfellupondeafears,soIrarelysayanythinganymore.Ijustsit,andIlisten,hopingoneofthesetimeshe’llsaysomethingofvalue,thathe’llslipupandI’llhearherinthebackground.
Ithasneverhappened.
Thesecallsusedtobeasfrequentasthevisitstotheprecinct,buttryingtorationalizewithKassianisalostcause.It’sliketryingtocivilizeacaveman.NomatterwhatIsay,it’sneverenoughtogethimtoacthumanforjustamomentandletmetalktomydaughter.
He’sneverevenacknowledgedtomethathehasher.
Thesoundofhisvoicemakesmyinsidesache,butIshovethefeelingsdownandabsorbeverysyllablehe’swillingtooffer,likemaybethisisallariddlethatIcaneventuallysolve.
“Didyouenjoyyourpresent?IknowChristmaswasmonthsago,butitisbetterlatethannever,no?”There’salightnesstohistone,likehe’samusedbyallofthis.“Iamassumingyourscarredplaythinggaveittoyou,sinceyouarecalling…unlessyouaresimplymissingmetoday.”
Istretchmylegsoutalongthefloor,Busterlyinginmylap,asIrestmyheadbackagainstthewall.
Istillsaynothing.
“Itisashameabouttheconditionofthebear,”hesays.“Ihadtoteachalessononobedience.Iamsureyourememberthose.Wehadsomanyofthem,youandI,butyou…youneverdidlearn.NomatterhowmanytimesIshowedyou,youstillthoughtyoucouldhavethingsyourway.ButI,ofcourse,hadtogetcreativethistime,sinceIcouldnotteachherthingsthewayItaughtyou.”
Helaughs,likeit’sthefunniestthingintheworld,whileIgrowdizzy,theroomstartingtospin.
Ihavetoclosemyeyes.
“Imissyourlessons,”hesays,soundingalmostwistful.“Stripingyoubare,fuckingyouraw,lettingthemallwatch.Doyouremember?Thewaytheywouldfallalloverthemselvestoseeyou,hopingIwasinagenerousmoodandwouldletthemhaveataste.Doyoumissthat?Youcanadmitit.Iwillnottellanyone.Iwillnottellthemhowmuchofagoodgirlyouusedtobe,howyouwouldcrysoquietly,sonottodisturbthemwhentheytookturns—”
“Stop.”Myvoicecracksasthatwordforcesitselffrommylips,tearsstingingmyeyes.“Just…stop.”
“Aw,pussycat,areyoucryingnow?”
Ibitemyliptokeepfrommakingasound.
“Itisokay,”hecontinues.“Comebackhome,andIwillmakeitallbetterPromises.Andmaybe,ifyouareagoodgirl,onceyoufinallylearnyourlesson,Iwilltellyouwhathappenedtoyourkitten.”
ItwouldbealietosayIdon’tconsiderhisoffer.
Becauseforasecond,amomentofweakness,Ithink‘okay’.Ithink‘Icandoit’.NothingKassiancouldputmethroughwouldeverbeworsethanlivinginthisvoid,existingintheunknown,withoutmylittlegirl.IthinkmaybeifIgotohim,maybeifIgivein,Icanfindher,getherback,andmaybethatwayIcanprotecther.ButrealityisthatIcouldn’tevenprotectmyselffromthisman,andifIsurrendernow,nobodywilleversaveeitherofus.
Andit’sstupid,Iknow,becausehis‘maybe’meansnothing.Hispromisesarebullshit.He’dteachmemylesson,sure.He’dfindawaytobreakme.
He’ddoit,andthenhe’dkillme.
“Nomoretosay?”heasks.
Idon’trespond.
“Thengoodbyefornow,prettygirl.Iamsurewewillseeeachotheragainsoon.Iloveyou.”
Thelinegoesdead.
Isithereforaminute,thosewordsstabbingatme,beforeIsnatchthechargeroutofthewallandthrowitallintheduffelbag,shovingitbackinthecloset.
CarryingBuster,Imarchdownstairs,findingLeoandMelodyinthelivingroomonthecouch.
Nothavingsex,thankfully—lookslikehe’shelpingherwithhomework—butugh,thatcouch.
Iftheyonlyknew
“Youguysarebackalready?”Iask.“Whattimeisit?”
“Afternineo’clock,”Leosayswithalaugh.“Didyoujustwakeup?”
“Ugh,yeah.”Iscratchmyhead,myhairaknottedmess.“GuessIwasreallytired.”
Ican’trememberthelasttimeIslepttwelvehours.
“IsLorenzostillinbed?”Leoasks.“Ifso,youmightwanttocheckhispulse.Heneversleepsmorethantwoorthreehours.Mightbedead.”
Iblinkafewtimes.“He’snotdownhere?”
“Haven’tseenhim,”Leosays.“Wegothomeaboutthreehoursago,sohemust’veleftbeforethenifhewasn’tupstairswithyou.”
“Ishiscaroutside?”Iask,steppingintothelivingroom,walkingovertothewindowtolookout.TheblackBMWisstillparkedinthedriveway.“Guesshewalked,ormaybehetookthesubway…”
“Orsomeonepickedhimup,”Leosays.
Weird
Staringathiscar,Itrytoignorethestrangefeelingbrewinginsideofme.Ugh.Lorenzoisanadult.He’sundernoobligationtocheckinwithanyonebeforehegoesout,muchlesstellmehisbusiness.
Frankly,I’mnotsureIwanttoknowhalfoftheplacesthemanhasbeen.
Butstill,afeelingtwistsmygut,somethingdangerouslyclosetoworry,likeI’mconcernedabouthiswell-being.
“CanIaskyousomething,Morgan?”
Leo’svoicedrawsmefromthosethoughtsbeforeIcandwellonthemtoomuch.Turning,Iglanceatwherehesitsonthecouch.Melodyisreadingsomethingoutofathicktextbook,whileheeyesmepeculiarlyfrombesideher.“Askmesomething?”
“Yeah,something,Idon’tknow…personal?”
Ohno
Inwardly,I’monedgeaboutthat,becausepersonalquestionsneverleadanywheregood,butIplasteronasmile.“Sure.”
“What’supwithyouandmybrother?”
Uh…“Whatdoyoumeanwhat’supwithus?”
“I’mjustwonderingwhatyourplansare,”hesays.“Doyouseethisthingwithhimactuallygoingsomewhere?Doyouwantittogosomewhere?Orisitjust,youknow,convenient—”
Melodyslamsherbookclosed,interruptinghimwithaglare.“Leonardo!Iknowyouarenottryingtohavethe‘whatareyourintentions?’talkwithher!”
Myeyeswiden.Ishe?
Leoturnstohisgirlfriend.“What?I’mjustasking…”
“Youcan’tjustasksomebodythat,”shesays.“Don’tyourememberwhenwefirststarteddatingandyougotthethirddegreeaboutyourintentions?Didn’tlikethatsomuch,didyou,buddy?”
“That’sdifferent.”
“No,it’snot,”shesays,rollinghereyes.“They’regrownassfolk,somindyourbeeswax.”
“But—”
Shepointshimintheface,herfingerjabbinghiminthenoseasshemakesascreechingnoisetocuthimoff,loudenoughtostartleevenherself.
Istepcloser,perchingonthearmofachairnearthecouch,asLeograbsherfingerandplayfullypretendstobiteit.
“Igetit,”Isay.“Ishowupoutofnowhere,andhereIam,doingallthecraphecomplainsabout,likeeatinghisfoodandbreathinghisair,yethetoleratesit.”
“Yes!”Leothrowshishandsup,shootingMelodyasmuglook.Shescowls,shovinghisfaceawayashelaughs.“It’sjustnotlikemybrother.”
“Yeah,Idon’tknow,”Isay.“Sorrytodisappoint,butIdon’treallyhaveananswer.I’mjusttryingtosurvive,andyourbrother?Well,Idon’tevenknowwhattosayaboutLorenzo.He’sanassholealotofthetime,completelyunyielding,butinarefreshingway…Ikindoflikeit.Asforwhyheputsupwithme?He’sbeenboredandthesexisgood.Orwell,thatwashisreasoningwhenIasked.”
Leodoesn’tlookdisappointed.Quitetheopposite,infact.Hegrinslikeamaniac.Melody,ontheotherhand,opensherbookagain,muttering,“talkaboutromantic.”
“Anyway…”Istandbackup,holdingBusterout.“Youwouldn’thappentoknowifthere’sasewingkitaroundhereanywhere,wouldyou?Aneedle?Somethread,maybe?”
“Checkthekitchen,”Leosays.“Orthelibrary…orthebathroom…ormaybeLorenzo’sroom…”
“Socheckeverywhere?”
“Prettymuch.”
IgotowalkoutwhenMelodyglancesup,herbrowfurrowing.“Isthatateddybear?”
“Yep,”Isay.
“It’s,uh…”Shehesitates.“Nice.”
“It’sfallingapart,”Isay.“Ineedtofixitbackup.”
“Whydoyouhaveateddybear?”Leoasksbeforeturningtohisgirlfriend.“Wait,amIallowedtoaskthat?”
Melodyjustrollshereyesathim.
“Oh,it’snotmine,”Isay.“Itbelongstomydaughter.”
IstepoutintothehallwayjustasmywordsseemtostrikeLeo.“Yourwhat?”heshouts,butIdon’tanswer,hearingMelodystophimfromfollowingmewithanotherlineabout‘beeswax’.
Iscourthekitchen,findingahellofalotofutensils,enoughknivestopotentiallyqualifyLorenzoasaoneofthoseDoomsdaypreppers,butnosewingkitanywhere.Imoveontothelibrary,scanningtheshelves,squattingdowntosearcharowofbuilt-incabinetsbeneaththem,andamabouttogiveupandmoveonwhenaloudvoicecutsthroughtheroom.“Whatthefuckareyoudoing?”
Ijumpup,bangingmyheadonacabinet,andwinceasIgettomyfeet,rubbingmyscalp.Shit,thathurt.Lorenzostandsinthedoorway,dressedimpeccablyinafittedsuit,wearingblackfromhead-to-toe,looking…whoa.
“Yo,bro,whatthehell?”Leohollers,comingdownthehallway.“Wasthatacopthatdroppedyouoff?”
BeforeLeocanbargein,andwithoutacknowledginghisquestion,LorenzograbsthelibrarydoorandslamsitrightinLeo’sface.Iwinceagain,thistimefromrealization.IwassodistractedbythelookofLorenzoinasuitthatitdidn’tstrikemethathejustcaughtmesearchingthroughhislibrary.
Hislibrary.
Youknow,theroomnobodygoesintowithouthispermission?
Hecaughtmeallupinthecabinets,diggingthroughhisshit.
“I’mlookingforaneedleandsomethread,”Itellhim,shuttingthecabinetdoors.“Youknow,asewingkit?”
Hewatchesmeincredulouslyashecomescloser.“DoIlooklikeIfuckingknit?”
“Actually,youknitwith—”Icutoffabruptlywhenheraisesaneyebrow.“Well,youdon’tknitwithanything,becauseyoudon’tknit,butneedleandthread,comeon…you’veneverhadtosewupacut?Giveyourselfafewstitches?”
“No,”hesays,“that’swhywehavedoctors.”
“Whatever,”Isay,holdingupBuster.“Adoctor’snotgoingtoperformsurgeryonthisguy.”
Lorenzopusheshischairaroundtofacemeashesitsdown.Hisexpressionwavers,someoftheangermeltingashereachesdowntountiehisshoes.“I’vegotducttape.”
“I’mnotsosurethat’llwork,butthanks.”
Hekickstheshoesoff,leaningbackinhischair.“Suityourself.”
“Speakingofsuits…”Iwavetowardhim.“What’sgotyoulookingsosnazzytonight?”
Heundoeshissuitcoat,shovingitoff,andstartsrollinguphissleeves.“Hadameeting.”
“Withacop?”
“Therewasacopinvolved,yes.Adetective.”
Mystomachsinks.“Gabe?”
Lorenzoshootsmeaconfusedlook.“Who?”
“DetectiveJones,”Isay.“Youknow,theoneyoucallmycopfriend?”
“Ah,no,nottheoneyou’refucking.”
Icringeathowhesaysthat.“Fucked.Pasttense.Notcurrentlyfucking,norwilltherebeanyfuturefucking.Thatbattleshiphassunk.”
“Fucked,”herepeats,runninghishandsdownhisface,lettingoutadeepsigh.“Thisisoneyou’veneverfucked.Name’sJameson,worksOrganizedCrimeinthecity.”
“Andthatrequiredasuit?NotthatI’mcomplaining,becausewhoa…justhaven’tseenyouwearonebefore.”
“Sometimesyou’vegottaplaythepart,Scarlet.Youknowthat.Whenmostpeoplethinkofguyslikeme,theystillimaginesomeonelikeMichaelCorleone,sothat’swhattheyget.It’skindoffunny,really.They’remoreterrifiedofmeinasuitwithshinydressshoesthantheyarewhenI’mwearingcombatbootsandcarryingaloadedgun.”
“Maybethey’renotmoreterrified,”Isay.“Ifthey’retrembling,heartracing,sweating,I’msayingthere’sachancetheymightjustbeturnedon.”
Helaughs,looseninghiscollar.“Doyoupissyourpantswhenyougetturnedon,too?”
Istepovertohim,shrugging.“DependsonhowturnedonIam.”
Hereachesout,grabbingaholdofme,pullingmedownforakiss.It’ssoft,slow,anddoesn’tlastverylongbeforehebreaksfrommylips.“When’sthelasttimeyoushowered?”
Ipushawayfromhim.“AreyousayingIstink?”
Beforehecananswer,Itiltmyheaddown,sniffing,tryingtobesubtleaboutit,buthecatchesontowhatI’mdoingandlaughs.
“Ifyouhavetosmellyourself,Scarlet,there’saprettygoodchanceyou’reduetobehosedoff.”
Irollmyeyes,ignoringhowhewordsthat.Ifyouonlyknew,man.“Rightnow.”
“Rightnow?”
“Yep,that’sthelasttimeIshowered,”Isay,skirtingpasthim.“Rightnow.”
Look,Iknowyou’reprobablyovertherecringing.I’mfilthy,andyeah,Ikindofstink.I’mwearingtheclothesIsleptin,andIhaven’tfixedmyhairinafewdays,justthrowingitupinasloppybun.Soyeah,whatever,cringeallyouwant,butI’vehadaprettyfuckeduplife,youknow,sodon’tjudgeme.
Trudgingupstairs,Ihaulmyselfstraightintotheshower,scrubbingandshavingandshampooing,usingallofLorenzo’sstuffsinceallI’vegotismylotionandatoothbrush.Afterward,Ibrushmyhair,slatheringonlotionfromheadtotoebeforeputtingonsomefreshclothesandheadingbackdownstairs.
He’sgoneagain.Lorenzo.Ithasonlybeenaboutthirtyminutes,butthelibraryisempty.Seriously?Sighing,Igotothelivingroom,findingMelodysittingtherebyherself.
NoLeo,either.
“HaveyouseenLorenzo?”Iask.
“Heleft,”shesays,glancingupfromherschoolwork.“Hehadtogodosomething,madeLeodrivehim.Saiditwouldonlytakeafewminutes.”
Wellthen
Iapproachher,curiouslyglancingatherbook.ElementsofMoralPhilosophy.I’mnotevensurewhatthatmeans.“Philosophy.”
“Yeah,”shesays,makingaface.“Ithoughtitwouldbefuntomajorin.”
“Adegreeinphilosophy,huh?Whatkindofjobcanyougetwithoneofthose?”
“Probablythekindthatinvolvesastripperpole.”
She’sbeingsarcastic,grumblingunderherbreath,butIlaughatthatanswerbecauseit’snotfar-fetched.“Well,hell,youcould’vesavedallthattuitionandjustgottenajobwithmeatMystic.”
ShecutshereyesatmeasIsitdown.“Mystic?”
“AclubIusedtodanceat,”Isay.“Definitelydidn’tneedadegreetoworkapolethere.”
Hereyeswiden.“Seriously?You’rea—”
“Stripper,yeah…orwell,Iwas.”
“Wow,I’msorry,Ididn’tmean…”Shecringes.“Ugh,I’msuchadumbass.Ishouldn’thavesaidthat.I’mnottryingtosay,youknow,thatthere’sanythingwrongwithstripping…”
“It’sfine,”Itellher.
“That’sjust…wow.Imean,IguessIcanseeit,youknow?Youlooklike…well…”
“Someonewhotakesherclothesoffformoney?”Iask,takingaguessatwhereshe’sgoingwiththat.
Herfaceturnsredassheshakesherhead.“Imeanlikesomeonewhodoesn’tgiveacrapwhatanyonethinksabouther.”
Shestaresatmelikeshewantstoasksomething,butbeforeshecanfindthewords,headlightsflashthroughthewindowasacarpullsintothedriveway.
“Yeah,well,itdoesn’treallymatterwhatpeoplethink,”Isay,gettingbacktomyfeet.“OnlyIhavetolivewithmyconsequences.”
Walkingout,InearlyrunintoLeowhenhestepsthroughthefrontdoor.Hestalls,lookingatme,hisexpressionfallingsomewherebetweensurpriseandconfusion.“Seriously?Adaughter?”
BeforeIcanrespondtothat,Lorenzostepsinbehindhim,grabbingaholdofLeobytheheadandshovinghimpastme,tothelivingroom.“Faticazzituoi.”
Whoa
“Geesh,fine,”Leogrumbles,walkingoff.“Noneedtogetyourpantiesinatwist,bro.”
Lorenzowaveshimoff.“Suckmynuts.”
IstareatLorenzo,surprisedbytheexchange,ashestepstowardme,rightupagainstmeinthehallway.Hissuitisn’tputtogetheranymore,hisshoesuntied,shirthangingloose.
“YouspeakItalian?”Iask.
“Some,”hesays,leaningdownlikehe’sgoingtokissme,butinsteadherunshisnosealongmyjawline.“Why?Youwantmetotalkdirtytoyou?”
“I,uh…”He’sgotmeflusteredashegrabsmyhip,pullingmeevencloser.Ishiver,feelinghiswarmbreathonmyskin.It’slikehe’sbreathingmein.“Well,Ididn’t,butIkindofdonow.”
Helaughs.“Let’sgoupstairs,andI’llteachyouallthedirtywordsyouwant.”
Ihum,tiltingmyheadashislipstracealongmycheek.“Allofthem?”
Hisbreathisagainstmyearashewhispers,“Everysingleone.”
Hedoesn’thavetosaythatagain.
Pushingaway,Isnatchaholdofhishand,graspingtightlyasIdraghimupthestairs.Assoonaswereachhisbedroom,heslamsthedoor,shruggingoffhiscoatagainandtossingitontothedresser.
Ithitswithathud,somethinginthepocket.
Icastitacuriouslookbutshakeitoff,distractedwhenhepullsagunoutfromhiswaistbandtosetitaside.Hereachesforme,tearingatmyclothes,butIslaphishandsaway.Instead,Igoforhispants,unbucklingthemasIsinktomykneesinfrontofhim.Lorenzostandsstill,notmovingatall.
Ipullhiscockoutandstrokeit.
He’salreadyrockhard.
Idon’thesitate,bringingmylipsrighttothetip,mytongueswirlingaroundtheheadbeforeslowly,Itakeitintomymouth,hiscockslidingdownmythroat.
“Fuck,”hegrowls,graspingthebackofmyheadasIsuckhim.“Thatfeelssogood.”
Lorenzo’shandstangleinmystill-damphair,hisheadtiltingbackandeyesclosing.Softgroansescapehisthroat,andhestayslikethatforamoment,justenjoyingit,lettingmedowhatIwanttodowithoutsayinganotherword.
It’safewminutes—three,maybefouratmost—beforehepullshishandfrommyhair,reachingdownfurthertonudgemychin.
Ilookupathim.
He’swatchingmenow.
Welockeyes,andIkeepsuckingashegentlyrunshisfingertipsalongmyface,caressingmyhallowedcheek.Hisexpressionmakesmychesttighten,asoftnessinhiseyesashetuckssomewaywardhairbehindmyear.Hisbreathingpicksup,chestrisingandfallingfasterasheswallowshard,theonlysignsthatletontohimgettingclose.Soclose
“Ilmiopiccolodolcetrombamica,”hesays,hisvoicelowandgritty.Hecupsmychin,thumbgrazingthecornerofmymouth,tracingmylipsastheyslidealonghiscock.“Vedereilmiocazzotraquellebellelabbraèunafantasiachemihaperseguitatodalmomentoincuicisiamoincontrati.”
Ihavenoideawhathe’ssaying,notafuckingclue,butthesoundofthosewordssendssparksthroughmeastheyrollrightoffofhistongue.Istrokehimfaster,suckingharder,asmirkonhislipsashiseyesagaindriftclosed.
Oncemore,hetiltshisheadback,jawgoingslack,ashishandagaintanglesintomyhair.
Hegripsharderthistime,though,fistinghandfuls.
Afewsecondspassbeforehebuckshiships,mynosepressingintohisstomachasheholdsmyheadstill,fuckingmythroat.Afewthrusts,asIgag,beforeIfeelhimspilling.Iswallow,graspinghishipstobracemyself,butbreathingisbecomingdifficult.
Igivehimafewseconds,holdingmybreath,butmychestistightandhe’snotlettinggo,soIpinchhisinnerthigh.Hard
Heflinches,shovingaway.Ifallbackontomyassandinhalesharply.
“Christ,thathurt,”hesays,rubbingthespotIpinched.
“Oh,quitwhining,”Imutter.“Icould’vejustbityou…or,youknow,punchedyouintheballs.”
HeglaresatmewhenIsaythat,givingmean‘I’dliketoseeyoufuckingtry’look,tryingtobeintimidating,butit’skindofhardtotakehimseriouslywhenhiscockisjusthangingoutofhispants.
Ismirk.“Youknow,you’dprobablybealotscarierifyourjunkwasn’tdanglingallupinmyface.”
Beforethelastsyllableiscompletelyoutofmymouth,hestepstowardme,grabbinghiscock.“Keeptalkingshit,I’llfuckingslapyouwithit.”
Laughing,Ithrowmyhandsupdefensively,wardinghimoffasheswingsit,shovingitrightatmyface,smackingmeintheforehead.
“Ohmygod,”Iyell,stilllaughing,shovinghimsohardhestaggers.“Whatiswrongwithyou?”
Heshrugs,tuckinghimselfaway,zippinghispantsup.“YousuckedthebraincellsrightoutofmydickwiththatgoddamnDysonmouth.”
Turning,hestartstowalkawayfrommewhenIgrabhisleg.“Whoa,whereareyougoing?”
“Totakeashower,”hesays,tryingtoshakemeoff.
“Oh,hellno,”Isay,tugginghimbacktowardme.“I’mnotdonewithyouyet.”
Hethrustshislegout,damnnearkickingmesoI’llletgo.“Whatdoyouwant?”
“Somereciprocationwouldbenice,”Isay,“butI’llsettleforjustknowingwhatyousaidinItalian.”
Hepausesashestartstoundress,strippingoutofhissuit,likereciprocationmaynotonlyhappenbutthatitmightgoevenfurther.“IsaidI’vebeenfantasizingaboutthosebeautifullipswrappedaroundmycocksincethemomentImetyou.”
“Seriously?”
Hecrouchesdowninfrontofme,wearingonlyhisunbuttonedblackslacks.“Yes,seriously,mysweetlittletrombamica.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
Aslowsmilespreadsacrosshisfaceasheleanscloser,kissingmesoftly,quickpecksonmylips,beforehestandsbackup,saying,“Figureitout,Scarlet.”
“Figureitout,Scarlet,”Igrumblemockinglyashegoesintothebathroomandshutsthedoor,leavingmekneelinghere.Rollingmyeyes,IgetupandheadstraightdownstairstowhereLeoandMelodystillhangoutinthelivingroom.
LeolooksupatmewhenIappear.Hehasquestions,Iknow,butI’mnotinthemoodtotalkaboutthosethings,soIbeathimtospeaking.
“Hey,Leo,youknowwhatatrombamicais?”
Hiseyeswiden.“Uh,yeah…”
“Whatisit?”
“It’sa…friend.”
“Afriend.”
“Yeah,”hesays,“onewithbenefits.”
“Afriendwithbenefits.”
“Justa,uh,morevulgarterm.”
Myeyesnarrow.
Leo’sabouttosaysomethingelse,butIdon’tgivehimthechance,walkingbackoutandstompingupstairs.Unbelievable.Ihearthewaterrunninginthebathroomanddon’tevenhesitate,openingthedoorandwalkingrightinsinceheneverlocksanything
Grabbingtheshowercurtain,Iflingitopen,glaringatanaked,soapyLorenzo.“Afuck-buddy?Really?”
Hestandsbeneaththespray,watercascadingdownhisbarechest.Itdistractsmemomentarily,detractingfrommyanger,asIfollowthetrailofwaterdownhisbody.
“Didn’ttakeyoulongtofigureitout,trombamica.”
Iscowl,lookingbackathisface.He’sgrinning.Smugsonofa—ugh.BeforeIcanrespond,hegrabsme,yankingmebeneaththespray.Inearlytripovertheedgeofthetubashepullsmeintoitwithhim,fullydressed.
“Whatthehell,Lorenzo?You’regettingmewet!”
“Don’tIalways?”heaskswithalaugh,grabbingmydrenchedclothesandtearingthemoff,flingingthemontothefloorbeforedrawingtheshowercurtainclosedagain.Heshovesmebackagainstthetilewall,andIgaspashegrabsmythighs,liftingmeup.Iwrapmylegsaroundhiswaist,myarmsaroundhisneck,holdingontohim.“GuessIoweyousomereciprocation,huh?”
“You’redamnrightyoudo,”Isay.“Youbettermakeitgood,too.”
Hegrins,kissingme,whisperingagainstmylips,“I’lldomybest.”ChapterThree
“Yousonofabitch,”Igrowl,squinting,hunkeredbeneaththeglowinglampinthelibrarywithmygazefixedtomylap.“IsweartoGod,ifyoudon’tgointhatfuckinghole,I’mgoingtolosemyshit…”
Carefully,Iaim,liningupforwhatfeelslikethetwentiethgoddamntime,butmyhandslipsrightpastmytarget,onceagain,insteadsomehowmakingmestabmyselfinthethumb.
“Fuck!”Iyankmyhandback,watchingasabeadofbrightredbloodbubblesuponthesurface.Ipopmythumbinmymouthandshoveupoutofmychair,sendingitflyinghalfwayacrosstheroom.“Motherfucker!”
Theword’sjumbled,sinceI’msuckingmydamnthumb,soundingmorelikeabitchassshriekthananythingresemblingEnglish.FrustrationbuildsupinsideofmeasIkickthetable,lashingout,makingitscreechalongthefloor.
“Boss?”
Seven’shesitantvoicecallsoutfromthedoorwayjustintheknickoftime,becauseIwasthreesecondsawayfrompullingoutmygunandshootingsomething,whichwould’veprobablyjustpissedmeoffmore.Goddamnbulletholes
Iturn,regardinghim.Helookslikehisusualself,fresh-facedandwideawake,despiteitbeingaroundfiveo’clockinthemorning,thesunnotyetshining.Hehasprobablyalreadyeatenbreakfast.Probablyfuckedhiswifebeforeleavinghishouse.Probablygotsomeextrasnacksstashedinhispockets.ProbablydiditallwhileIsatherelikeafuckingschmuck,strugglingtothreadthisstupidassneedle.
“Everythingokay?”heasks.“Whathappened?”
Whathappened?
Hisfavoritegoddamnquestion.
“Whathappened,”Isay,pullingmythumbfrombetweenmylips,“isIcan’ttakeTabAandstickitinSlotBproperlybecausemybrainthinkstheworldisfuckingflatsonothingappears3D.”
Hestaresatmecautiously,likehowyouregardawildanimal,likehe’safraidofwhatImightbegettingmyselfintothismorning.
“Comethreadthisfuckingneedle,”Isay,throwingthesewingkitdownonthetable,piecesofitscattering,“beforeIstabmyselfagain.”
Sevenapproaches,assessingthings,pickingupthediscardedneedleandcuttingafreshpieceofblackthread,sincetheoneIusedisknottedandfrayed.Threeseconds,justlikethat,heholdstheneedleupinfrontofhimandslipsthethreadrightthroughit,securingtheendsbeforehandingitback.
Threeseconds.
I’vebeenatthisforthirtyminutes.
“Bullshit,”ImutterasIsnatchitback.“Thanks.”
“Anytime,boss,”hesays.“Isthatallyouneeded?Isthatwhyyoucalled?”
“DoyouseriouslythinkI’dmakeyoucometoQueensjusttothreadafuckingneedleformeatfiveo’clockinthemorning?”
“Yes.”
Icasthimaglare.
He’sright.
Iwould.
ButIdidn’t.
Shakingmyhead,Ireachdown,snatchingthedamnstuffedbearfromthefloorwhereItosseditearlierafterswipingitoutofScarlet’sclutchesinbed.ImotionforSeventohaveaseatinmychair,whileIslideupontothetable,sittingontheedgeofit,beneaththelamp.
Idon’tknowwheretostart.
Withanyofthisshit,really.
Whenbuildingapuzzle,youalwaysstartwiththeborder,sincethosepiecesaretheeasiesttopickoutandputtogether.Fromthere,dependingonthepuzzle,youeitherseparatebycolororyouusethepictureasreference,ifthere’ssomethinguniquetopinpoint.Regardless,youhitwhat’smostobviousfirst,breakingitdownintomanageablechunks.Divideandconquer
Startattheborderandworkourwayin.
Ipushtheneedlethroughthesideofthebear,tocloseaholesomefluffygutsarespillingoutof.
Sevensitsdown,stillwatching.“Youeversewnbefore,boss?”
“Sewedsomeone’slipsshutbeforewhentheywouldn’tshutthefuckup,”Isay.“Why?DoIlooklikeIdon’tknowwhatI’mdoing?”
I’maskingthatgenuinely.
I’mtryingtonotscrewthisallup.
“Yourtechniqueisabit…unusual.”
“What’ssounusualaboutit?”
I’mshovingitinandpullingitbackout,windingroundandroundandroundasIgo,forcingtheholeclosed.Makessense,right?
“You’reusingkindoflikeadoubleovercastingbastingstitchinsteadofablindstitch…ormaybealadderstitchwould’vebeenbetter.”
“Whatareyougoingonabout?”Iask,browfurrowing.“Stitchesarestitches,aretheynot?”
“Well…sure,Iguess.”
“Youguess.”
“It’sjustthatcertainstitchesworkbetterindifferentcircumstances—like,forinstance…”
Herambles,babblingonandonandonaboutstitchesandfabricsandtechniques,whileIjustkeepshovingtheneedlethroughthebear,backandforth,untiltheholeisnomore.Poof.IcutthethreadandknotitthebestIcan,lookingupatSevenwhenI’mdone.
Notevenkidding.He’sstilltalking.
“Howthehelldoyouknowallthat?”Iask,cuttinghimoff.“Getyourrocksoffinhomeec?Spendyourfreetimewhittlingoutcoatsforthehomeless?”
Helaughs.“Thewifeisaseamstress.”
“Noshit?Didn’tthinkshehadajobanymoresinceyougotsetlooseandstartedmakingmoneyagain.”
“Shestilldoesabitofworkhereandthere,”hesays.“Mendscostumesforacoupleshowswhentheyneedit.Sheenjoysit,andwell,notgonnaturndownextramoney,youknow?”
“Yeah,”Imumble,examiningmysewingjobbeforemovingontothenexthole,makingSevenrethreadtheneedleforme.
Extramoneyisabullshitconcept,whenitcomesdowntoit.Formostpeople,themoretheymake,themoretheyspend.Biggerhouses,fanciercars,morerecognizablebrandnames.Itisn’tliketheygettoapointwheretheythink,‘yep,I’vegotenoughnow,I’llpassontherest.’Whichmeansthere’snosuchthingasextra.Moneyismoney.It’sanecessaryevil.
“Speakingofmoney,”Isay,sewingupanotherhole.“ImetwithJamesonandafewofhisguysoverinMidtownyesterday.”
“Whydidn’tyoucallme?Icould’vedrivenyou.”
“Wasn’tnecessary,”Isay.“IjusthadJamesonswingthroughandpickmeup.Gotthegunsfromstorageunloaded.Bankedaboutahundredthousand.Hisguywantsmore,though,soI’mgoingtohaveanothershipmentputtogetherinthenextfewdaysandhaveitbroughtup.”
Sevenletsoutalowwhistle.“More?That’salotofgunsforoneman.What’shedoing,startingawar?”
“Probably,”Isay.“Notmyproblem,though.Whattheydowithitallistheirbusiness.”
“Andtherestofthestuff?”
“It’llallbeouttomarketinthenextfewdays,”Isay.“Threecanhandleit,likeusual.”
Look,whileI’msewingthisholeclosed,letmegiveyouarundownabouthowallofthisworks:
Ihelpacquireshit.Illegalshit,mostly,someofitthatwaybecauseofwhereitcomesfrom.Yousee,alongtimeago,whenIwasstillswimmingaroundinCharlieGambini’snutsack,thegovernmentsaid‘fuckCuba’andbannedeverythingtodowiththeplace.Noimports.Noexports.Couldn’tevenstepfootontheislandwithoutgoingthroughabunchofbullshit.Andpeople,youknow,whenthegovernmenttellsthemtheycan’thavesomething,itjustmakesthemwantitevenmore.
Hence,theblackmarketboomed.
Aftermystepfatherwreakedhishavocandtookoverthegroves,hedecidedtocapitalizeonthatdemand.TheconvenienceofhavingpropertyinFloridameanttheycouldslipshitinandoutfromCubaundereveryone’snoses.AfterhediedandItookitallback,Ikeptthemarketrunning.Mostoftheproductstillstaysdownsouth,andsomeguysrunitallastheykeepupwiththegroves,butspecialordersarebroughttomeuphere.
Youwantit,Icanprobablygetit.
WhetherornotIwilldependsonhowmuchyou’rewillingtopayandifIlikeyouthatday.
Soinsummary,webribeabunchofmotherfuckerstolooktheotherwayaswefunnelthegoodshitinfromCuba.Idealwithourconnectionsandhandlethemoney.Threedistributestheinventory,whileSevenmakessureIkeepmyheadonstraightthroughitall.Eyeontheprize.Therestoftheguys,well,theymostlydothebruntwork,anditpaysprettydamngood,sotheydon’tcomplain.
Youborednow?Yeah?
Can’tsayIblameyou.
Thatpartofitborestheshitoutofme,too.Iwouldn’tbotherdoingit,exceptIrelyonthatmoneytokeepthegrovesrunning,sincethereisn’tmuchmoneytobemadeinoranges.I’dbreakthatrealitydownforyou,butitmightputyoutosleep.
Allcaughtupnow?Good.
Backtosewing.
“Anyway,soIaskedaroundabouttheRussian,figuringoneofthemwouldhaveaninwiththeguysincemostareundercoverwiththatcrowd.”Ohyeah,didImentionmostoftheselectgroupthatbuysmyillegalshituphereworksinlawenforcement?IhaveSeventothankforthoseconnections.“Theysaytheycan’tgetnearhim.They’vetried.Hekeepsitallclosetothechest,butsomebodyhastohaveaninwithhimsincehe’salwaysastepahead.SoI’mfiguring,youknow,I’vegotJamesoninmypocketbecauseheworksorganizedcrime,buttheyaren’tbuildingacase,thelocalsare,whichtellsmewhoever’ssupposedtobeinvestigatingtheRussianshasgottabebendingoverfortheguy.”
“Makessense,”Sevensays.“Mostlikelyadetectiveinthearea.”
“Ding,ding,ding,we’vegotawinner.”Ifinishsewingupthathole,assessingthebear’sleg,thebottompartofitprettyfucked,achunkburnedaway.“HowamIsupposedtofixthat?”
“Coveritup,”Sevensuggests.
“What,sewasockontoitorsomething?”
“No,makeapatch,”hesays,“likewhenyougetaholeinyourpants.”
Iglancedownatmyjeans,coveredwithholes.
Theyweremadethatway.Nopatches.
“Sometimesyouseemalotolderthanme,Seven.”
Helaughs.“You’rejustyoungatheart.”
“IsthatyourwayofsayingI’mimmature?”
“I’mjustsayingyoudon’tseemtobeinanyhurrytogrowup,”hesays.“Whichthere’snothingwrongwith.Butme?I’vesettledintomylife.You’restillfindingyours.”
“Well,Iappreciatethevalidation,butthat’snothelpinggetthisgoddamnbearfixed.”
“Whyareyoufixingit?”
Man…that’sagoodquestion.TheonlyanswerI’vegotis,“Whoknows?”
Helaughs.Again.“Look,findsomefabric,cutittofitthespace,finishtherawedgesandsewiton.”
Itossthebeardownonthetablebesidethesewingkitwhenhesaysthat.Itsoundslikealotofworkwithahighprobabilityofsomethinggoingwrong.Can’tdomuchabouttherestofthebear,either.Can’treplaceitsear.Can’tputitinthewasherwithoutitfallingapart.Andcertainlycan’tgiveitbackitsmissingeye,consideringI’veonlygotonemyself.
It’sjustfucked.
“Shehadafileonme,youknow.Scarlet.”
Seven’seyeswiden.
“Sheswipeditfromadetective’soffice.GabrielJones.Youknowhim?”
Sevenmakesaface.“Unfortunately.”
“AnychancehecouldbeourSenatorPalpatine?”
“Who?”
Sighing,Istandup,takingoffmyglassesandsettingthemonthetable.“I’monlygivingyouapassonthatbecauseoftheprequels,butifyoutellmeyou’veneverseenEmpireStrikesBack,I’mshootingyouintheface.”
“Seenitafewtimes.”
“Good,nowcomeon,”Isay,pullingmykeysfrommypocketandtossingthemtoSeven.“We’regonnahaveusalittlerendezvouswithourlittleSithdetectivethismorning.”
***
“I’mnotsurethisisagoodidea,boss.”
ThosearethefirstwordsoutofSeven’smouthwhenwestepfootintotheprecinctdownnearConeyIsland.Isortofexpectedit,though,beingwhoheis.He’smoreuncomfortableherethanatastripclub,andthat’ssayingsomething,sincethemanhasanaversiontoanynakedwomanthatisn’thiswife.Allergictounfamiliarpussy
“Youcanwaitinthecar,”Itellhim.“Won’tholditagainstyou.”
“I’mfine,”hesays.“Justlettingitbeknownsowhenthingsgohaywireyoucan’tblameme.”
“Oh,Icanstillblameyou.Probablywill,too.”
Heshakeshishead,steppingbyme,naturallytakingtheleadonthissincehe’salltoofamiliarwiththeproceduresintheseplaces.Heapproachesawomaninuniformsittingbehindadesk,clearinghisthroatbeforesayingfirmly,“We’reheretospeakwithDetectiveGabrielJones.”
Ohhh,hiscopvoice—nobullshit,nohumor.Iguessifwe’replayingthegoodcop/badcoproutine,thatmakesmethegoodone.Theirony
Theofficerregardshimwarily,likeshemighthaveanideaofwhoheis.“Name?”
“BrunoPratt,”hesays.
Recognitionflashesinhereyes.
“I’lllethimknowyou’rehere,”shesays,motioningtowardthelobby.“Haveaseat,someonewill—”
“Don’tworryaboutthat,”hecutsin.“Icanfindhisofficemyself,noproblem.”
Sevenpushesawayfromthedesk,immediatelyheadingforanearbyelevator.Theofficeratthedeskshootsmealooknext,thatall-too-familiarexpressionofdreadwashingoverherassheavertshereyes.
Myreputationmustprecedemehere,too.
“Officer,”Isay,noddingingreetingasIwalkpastthefrontdesk,trailingSeven.
Theelevatoropensandwestepinside.Hepressesthenumberthreebutton.
“Thirdfloor,huh?”Iask.
“Justaguess,”hesays.
Adamnluckyguess,itturnsout,becausewefindthedetective’sofficeinthebackagainstthewall,blindsdrawn,hisnameprominentlydisplayedonthedoor.
“Doesn’tlooklikeanyone’shome,”Isay.
“Oh,no,he’shere,”Sevensays.“Shouldprobablylookawayunlessyouwannagetaneyeful.”
“Noshit?”
Sevenshootsmealookthatsaysjustthat:noshit
Idon’tavertmygaze,becausewell,I’mnosey.Besides,I’veseenitallbefore.Nothing’sgoingtoshockme.Sevengrabsthedoor,shovingitopen,ahigh-pitchedyelpringingoutfrominsideasweinterruptwhatever’shappening.Uh-oh
“Whoabuddy!”Isay,lettingoutalaughasthedetectivescramblestopullhimselftogether.Hispantsaredownaroundhisankles,damnneartrippinghim,hisawkwardlyhairyassondisplay.“Mightwannashavethatshit,Sasquatch.”
He’scursingunderhisbreathasheyankshispantson,thewomanonherkneesshovinghimawaytostandup.Blonde,sicklyskinny,whichI’mguessingiscourtesyofcokejudgingbythehigh-as-fucklookonherface.Shefleestheoffice,andIgrimaceassherushespastme,gettingawhiffofsomethingrank
“Christ,”Igrumble,walkingintotheoffice,notawaitinganinvitationsinceI’mprobablynotgettingone.“Idon’tevenknowwhattosayrightnow,detective.”
“Nothingwashappening,”hesaysashefumbleswithhisbelt.“Itwasn’twhatitlookedlike.”
Idropdownintoachairinfrontofhisdesk,stretchingmylegsout,makingmyselfcomfortable.“Isurehopenot,becauseIthoughtyouhadbettertastethanthat.Imean,don’tgetmewrong,I’vefuckedmyfairshareofquestionablewomen,butthat’slikestickingyourdickinatrashcompactor.”
Heglaresatme.“Idon’thavetimeforvisitorstoday.I’mbusy.”
“Isaw,”Isay.“Youworkingonsomethingforthatgirl?Alittlehead,alittlepussy,andwhat?You’llgivehercasealittleextraattention?”
“Soundslikehim,”Sevensays,stilllurkinginthedoorway.
ThedetectiveseemstojustnoticeSeven’spresence,alookofcontemptpassingacrosstheman’sface.“Pratt.”
“Jones.”
“Iseeyourchoiceoffriendshipshasn’tgottenanybetter.”
“AndIseeyoustillgetyourrocksofffuckingwithpeople.”
“Thatwasalwaysyou,Pratt.Quicktosellouteveryoneforadollar.”
“Me?”Sevencomesfurtherintotheoffice,leavingthedoorwideopen,hisquickadvancemakingthedetectivestepback.“Youwanttotalkaboutsellingpeopleout?”
Iglancebetweenthemastheyshootdaggersateachother.“Areyoutwo…flirting?Becauseit’skindofturningmeon.”
Okay,nowthosedaggersarebeingshotatme
“Sitdown,Seven,”Isay,shovingthechairbesidemetowardhimbeforeIpointatthedetective.“You,too,DetectiveFuckface.Plantyourassinachair.Let’schit-chat.”
Neithermanlistenstomerightaway,butSeven’scommonsensekicksinafteramoment.Hesitsdown,notsayinganotherword.
Thedetectivefollowshislead,takingaseatbehindhisdesk,hiseyesfixedonme.“LorenzoGambini,Ipresume?Orwouldyouprefertobecalled—”
“Sir,”IcutinbeforehecansayScar.“Youcancallmesir,ifitgivesyouthetingles.Otherwise,let’sjuststickwithGambini.”
Hesitsquietlyforamoment,stewing,beforeheasks,“Whatdoyouwant?Huh?Youthinkyoucanshowuphereandthreatenme?”
“Threatenyou?”IlooktoSeven.“DidIthreatenhimandalreadyforgetaboutit?”
“Ididn’thearathreat,”Sevensays.
Iglancebackatthedetective.“Didn’tthinkso.I’mjustheretocheckuponacase.”
“Makeanappointment,”hesays.
“I’drathernot,”Isay,“soI’lljustsithereandwait.”
IthinkhethinksI’llgiveupandgoaway,orthatI’lldosomethingtojustifyhimhavingmethrownoutofthebuilding,butI’msmarterthanthat,andI’mstubbornasshit.I’llsithereforafuckingweekinsilenceifitmeansIwin.
Itdoesn’ttakeaweek,though.Hell,itonlytakesafewminutes.Afewminutesofhimtryingtoignoremypresencebeforehegivesin.Weak
“Fine!”Hethrowshishandsup.“Tellmewhatyouwantfrommeandthengetthehellout.”
“KassianAristov.”
Heblanks.
Fullon,nofuckingpokerfaceblanks
There’sthisthingpeopledowhendeathisimminent,thislookthatcomesoverthem.Sometimesitonlylastsasecond.Allcolordrainsaway.Eyeswiden.Jawgoesslack.Theyalmostlookdeadalready,lifenon-existent,whentherealizationhitsthemthatthey’recompletelyfuckedandthere’snowaytostopitfromhappening.
That’sthelookhegetsonhisfacerightnow.
Deadmanwalking…
“Ican’ttalktoyouaboutacasethatdoesn’tinvolveyou,”hesays,choosinghiswordscarefully.
“Oh,doyouhaveacasethatdoesinvolveme?BecauseI’dlovetohearaboutthatone.”
Heglaresatme,stillaswhiteasaghost.
“Wellthen,inthatcase,wecansticktoAristov,”Isay.“I’mactuallyhereonbehalfofsomeoneelse,sodon’tyouworryyourprettylittlemind…youcantellmeallaboutit.”
“You’rehereonwhosebehalf?”
“MorganMyers.”
Therehegoesblankingagain.Panicked
“Well?”Isnapmyfingerathim.“Thesooneryougetwithit,thesoonerI’llgo.”
Heclearshisthroatandlooksaway,absentlyshiftingthingsaroundonhisdesk.“MissMyerscan’tspeakforherselfanymore?Shehastosendyoutoroughmeup?”
“Jesusfuck.”IlookatSeven.“DidImissmyselfroughinghimupnow?What’shappeninghere?”
“Beatsme,”Sevensays,armscrossedoverhischest.“I’msurprisedhehasn’ttoldyoueverything.He’salwaysbeengoodatrattingpeopleout.”
Somethingstrikesmethen,somethinginSeven’sclippedtone,andIlaughasIturnbacktothedetective.Motherfucker.TurnsoutImightbedealingwithbackstabbingLando.“Noway,you?Tellmeyoudidn’tsnitchonafellowofficer.”
“Heshouldn’thavebeenworkingfortheItalians,”thedetectivesays.“Hebetrayedthebadge.”
“Askhimhowheknows,”Sevenchimesin.“AskhimhowhefoundoutIwasontheirpayroll.”
“Oh,Idon’thavetoask,”Isay.“Hesoldyououttosavehisownass.”
Nobodysaysanything,whichreallysayseverything.
“Andyoudidn’treturnthefavor?”IaskSeven.“Didn’ttakehimdownwithyou?”
Sevenshakeshishead.
“Hewould’ve,”thedetectivesaid,“ifhethoughtforamomentthattheywould’vebelievedit.Theyhailedmeaheroforthatarrest.HowelsedoyouthinkIgotthiscushyprivateoffice?”
“Sureashellisn’tbecauseyou’regoodathelpingpeople,huh?”Ilaughagain,sittingupinthechair,gettingprettytiredofdealingwiththisjackassalready.It’snodamnwonderScarletfadedoutwheneverhetouchedher.Ioughttobreakeveryfuckingboneinhishandsfordoingwhathedid,despicablepieceofshit.“MorganMyers…you’regoingtotellmewhat’sgoingonwithhercase.”
Thedetectiveisquiet,likehe’sthinkingabouthowtoanswer,beforesaying,“Thereisn’tone.”
DidIjusthearthatright?“Whatdidyoujustsay?”
“Thereisnocase,”hesays.“Weinvestigated,nothingpannedout.MissMyerswasadvisedtohandleitherself,sinceit’sacivilmatter.”
It’snotoftenI’mrenderedspeechless,butit’sbeenhappeningquiteabitlately,anditalwaysseemstohavesomethingtodowithScarlet
It’sblowingmygoddamnmind.
“Acivilmatter,”Isay.“Whichpart?BecauseI’mjustwonderingwhethermurderorkidnappingisthecivilmatter,legallyspeaking.Imightbeinterestedinpartakinginoneortheother,ifthat’sthecase.”
“Look,Idon’tknowwhatshetoldyou,Gambini,buttherewasnokidnapping.Aristovhasarighttohisdaughter.Morgankeptthekidfromhimforyearspriortothis,andshewasn’tchargedwithkidnapping,either.SolikeIsaid,it’sacivilmatter.Ifshewantsustodoanything,sheneedstosueforcustodyandgetanorderfiledwiththecourts,somethingthatcanbeenforced.AndlasttimeIchecked,MissMyerswasstillverymuchalive,whichmeanstherewasn’tamurder.”
“Attemptedmurder,then.”
“There’snoproofhetriedtokillher,”hesays.“Atmost,withjusthertestimonytorelyon—ifshe’deventestify,whichshewon’t—itgetspleddowntosimpleassault.Hepaysafine,takesangermanagement,andthat’stheendofit.She’salsowelcometopetitionthecourtsforarestrainingorder.Again,that’ssomethingwecanenforce.”
He’sgotananswerforeverything,anexcuseastowhythey’renotdoingadamnthingtohelpher.
“Fairenough,”Isay,“butriddlemethis:ifshegavebirthatsixteen,whichisundertheageofconsent,whywasn’thechargedforthat?Prettysurethat’sonehellofacut-and-dryfelony.”
“Therewasneveranycomplaintofstatutoryrape.”
“Notevenwhenamanovertwiceheragesignedthebirthcertificate?”
Hestaresatmeinsilence.
“Huh,soeitheryouignoredthatlittlefactorheneversignedthebirthcertificate,whichmeanshe’seitherguiltyofstatutoryrapeorhe’sguiltyofkidnappingherchild.Whichoneisit,detective?”
Hestillsaysnothing.
KnowingwhatIknow,I’mbettingit’sthekidnapping.SomebullshitpieceofpaperissuedbythegovernmentwouldmeannothingtoAristov.Hedoesn’tneedthevalidation.
Butitalsomeanshe’sgotnolegalrighttoher.
“Doyoulikeit?”Iaskafteramomentofstrainedsilence.“Doesitmakeyouhard,bendingoverfortheRussians,lettingthemfuckyou?”
Heglaresatme.
“It’sokay,youcanadmitit,”Icontinue.“We’veallgotourkinks.Betyouloveitwhentheycomealloveryourbackandtreatyoulikealittlebitch.”
“Fuckyou,”hegrowls.“Youdon’tknowanything.”
“Iknowyousoldoutagrievingmother,andIknowyoufedherabunchofbullshitabouthowyouweregoingtohelp.Iknowsheletyoustickitin,becauseshelovesherkid,thinkingyouwereagoodguythatwasgoingtohelpherwiththis.Butyouneverplannedtodoagoddamnthingforher,didyou?”
“I’mdoingallIcanforMorgan,”hesaysthroughgrittedteeth,hisnostrilsflaring.Helookslikehewantstotearmetopieces.Awesome.“YouthinkIdon’twishIcouldgetthekidbackforher?Ifitwasinanywaypossible,Iwould’vedoneit,butmyhandsaretied.Youjustdon’tcrossAristov.”
“Careful,detective,”Isay.“You’resoundingabitlikeacowardrightnow.”
“I’mbeingrealistic,”hesays,runninghishandsdownhisface.“UnlikeMorgan,whoseemstothinkshecangoupagainsthimandnotloseeverything.Imean,Christ…whatdoessheexpect?She’salive.Sheescapedwithherlife.Sheoughttobegratefulforthat!Thekid…thekidisfine.Igetthatitsucks,butshe’swiththem,andshe’s…fine.”
“AndyoujusttooktheRussian’swordforthat?”
“Ofcoursenot,”hegrumbles.“I’mnotanidiot.Imadehimproveit.Andthekid,youknow…she’sfine.Hehasher.She’sfine.”
I’mbeginningtoquestionifhebelieveshisownwords.He’ssaidshewasfinesomanygoddamntimesthatIthinkhemightbetryingtoconvincehimselfofthat.
“Itakeitthatmeansyou’veseenher?”
Helooksatme,goingwhiteagain.Uh-oh
“Where’shehidingher?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Whatdoyouknow?”
“Nothing.”
Lyingsonofabitch
Ishoveuptomyfeet,toweringoverthedesk.“YouwannaknowwhatIknow,detective?”
“What?”
Snatchingaholdofhisshirt,Ifistthecollarandyankhimupoutofhischair.Hegrabsthedeskwhenheslamsintoit,bracinghimselfasIpullhimtome.Istarehimrightinhiseyes,face-to-face,sodamncloseournosesalmosttouch.
“IknowifyoueverlayanotherfingeronMorgan,I’llcutyourdickoffandfuckyouwithit,”Isay.“Andthen,whenI’mdone,I’llshoveitdownyourmother’sthroatwhileIfuckher.Yougotme?”
Blinkingrapidly,henods.
Ishovehimbackintohischair,andhedamnnearfallsrightoutofit,alarmed.Man,youdon’tevenknowhowmuchIwanttoshoothiminthecrotchrightnow,justpumpbulletafterbulletintotheman’spunyballs.
“I’llbeseeingyouaround,DetectiveFuckface,”Isay.“Nexttime,though,youmightnotlikemesomuch.”
“See,thatwasathreat,”Sevenchimesin,gettingtohisfeet.“Ihearditthattime.”
Ilaugh,walkingout,leavingtheprecinctwithoutbotheringwithanybodyelse.
Steppingoutsideontothesidewalkinfrontoftheprecinct,Ipullthesmalltinfrommypockettograbajoint.
“Uh,boss,”Sevensays,pausingbesideme.“Mightnotbethebestplacetolightup.”
Ishrugthatoff,lightingit,inhalingdeeplyandholdingthesmokeforamomentbeforesaying,“Whataretheygonnado,arrestme?”
“Probably.”
Itakeanotherhitofit,nodding,beforestrollingawayfromtheentrance,headingtowherethecarisparked.Iloungeinthepassengerseat,steadilysmoking,lettingitsoothemynervesandclearmymindasSevendrives.Thewindowsarerolledup,sohe’sprobablygettingabitofahigh,buthedoesn’tcomplainaboutit.
“Hesawthekid,”Isayafteramoment,“whichmeansAristovkeptheraroundhere.”
IcanfeelSeven’sgazeflickermywayashesaysquietly,“Hisrefrigerator.”
Hisrefrigerator.
Whatthefuck?
“Seriously?Youthinkhe’skeepingherinhisrefrigerator?JesusChrist,Seven,whoishe,JefferyDahmer?”
“No,I’mnotsayinghe…youknow.Butwhenwewereathishouse,whenIwenttothekitchentowait…therewasapictureontherefrigerator.Adrawing,stickfiguresandahouse.Youknow,stuffkidsdraw.”
“Andyoudidn’tthinktomentionthatbeforenow?”
“No,”headmits.“Ididn’tknowwewereevenlookingforakid.Youdidn’ttellme,soIdidn’trealizeitwasimportant.”
I’mthinkingaboutthatasweheadbackintoQueens,approachingmyhouse,mygazesteadilywatchingthemirrors,makingsurenobodyisfollowingus.Canneverbetoosure.It’sbotheringme,whatSevenjustsaid.“Howmanystickfigures?”
Hepullsintomydriveway,castingmeacuriouslook.“What?”
“Howmanypeoplewereinthedrawing?”
“Uh…two.Aguyandakid,itlookedlike.”
Shit
Isitthere,evenafterhecutstheenginetothecar,staringoutthewindshieldatmyhouse.It’saftersunrisenow,whichmeansScarletisprobablyawakeinthere,roamingaround.
“Whatareyouthinking,boss?”Sevenasks.
I’mthinkinglifeisgoingonwithoutScarlet,theworldisstillturning,andthat’sgoingtohurtthefuckoutofher.Yousee,that’sthethingaboutgrief…itfeelsall-consuming.Itmakesitfeelliketimestops,becauseforyou,itdoes.Lifeasyouknowitceasestoexist,butforeveryoneelse,itjustkeepsgoingon.Andsometimes,youknow,ifitstopsfortoolong,there’snotmuchchanceofyouevercatchingup.
Becausebythetimeyourworldmovesagain,everyoneelseisalreadytoofargone.
“ThinkingImightmakesomepancakesthismorning,”Isay.“Maybesomebacon,too.”
Sevenfollowsmeinside.ThemomentIopenthefrontdoor,musicgreetsme,rattlingthroughthehousefromupstairs.Tupac.Imakemywayupthere,thenoiseblaringfrommybrother’sroom,louddespitehisdoorbeingclosed.I’mprettysureIknowwhatothernoisesthemusicisdrowningout,soIdon’tbotherhim,insteadstrollingovertomyroom.
Thedooriscrackedopen,andIpushitfurther,leaningagainstthedoorframe.
Asmileslowlyturnsmylips.
Scarlet’smakingmybed,dancingaroundassheflingssheetsacrossthething,tryingtogetthecornerstostayputbutthey’reabitchtosecure.ToobigT-shirt,lacypanties,andapairofsockstuggeddamnneartoherkneesisallshe’swearing,herhairallovertheplace.IGetAround.Shetriestorapalongtothesong,onlyknowinghalfthewords,fuckinguptherestbyjustmakingshitup.
Hereyesshiftmywayafteramoment,andshestartles,thesingingstoppingasshefreezes.Itonlylastsafewsecondsbeforethechoruskicksbackinandsheshrugsmeoff,singingalongagainasshefinallygetsthefittedsheetintoplace,movingontotherest.
Isaynothing,justwatchingher.ThesongchangestoHit‘EmUp.Sheknowsevenlessofhisone,spewingoutpartofalineeverynowandthen,violentandvulgar,sodamnoutofplacewithherhoneyedvoicethatIlaugh.
“Youlaughingatme?”sheasks,cuttinghereyesmyway.“That’sfoul.”
“It’scute,”Isay,“youtryingtosoundhardcore.”
Shescowlsasshestrutsovertome,pausingwhenwe’retoe-to-toe,notevenhesitatingasherarmsgoaroundme,herhandsmeetingatthenapeofmyneck,fingersrunningthroughmyhair.
Shestaresmedeadintheface,herexpressionstonecoldseriousasshesays,“Iwillcutamotherfucker.”
“Idon’tdoubtthatforasecond,”Itellher,leaningover,kissingher.“Mywickedlittlebelladonna,beautiful,deadly,sotemptingtokeeptastingbutsogoddamntoxiceverytouchisjusttoomuch.”
Somethingflashesinhereyes,hercheeksgrowingpink,aflushtakingoverherwarmskin.
“Isthisforeplay?”sheasks.“BecauseI’mnotreallyinthemood.”
“Liar.”Ilaugh,runningmynosealonghercheek.Shesmellslikewarmvanillaandmaybeevenabitlikeme.“Areyouforgettingwhathappenstopeoplewholietome?”
Rollinghereyes,shepushesaway,walkingbackovertofinishmakingthebed.“HowdoyouknowI’mlying?”
“Youlooklikeyoumightenjoyagoodpounding,”Isay.“Besides,freshsheets…nobettertimethannowtofuckthebedallup.”
Shethrowsthecomforterontopofit,doingahalf-assedjobattherest,beforedroppingtotheflooronherhandsandknees,lookingunderthebed.
Walkingover,Ireachdown,runningahandoverthecurveofherassbeforeslippingfurtherdown,rubbingherpussythroughherpanties.“Youassumingtheposition?”
Shelaughs.“I’mlookingforBuster.”
“Ah,itsdownstairsinmylibrary.”
Shestandsup,givingmeaweirdlookasshepushespastme.
“Whereareyougoing?”Iask,catchingherarm.
“TogetBuster,”shesays.
Istareatherasshepullsaway,leavingtheroom.
Un-fucking-believable
Cock-blockedbyaone-eyedteddybear.
Areyouseeingtheironyhere?
Thesongchanges,PictureMeRollin’blaringthroughthehouse,butinthosethreesecondsittakesforthemusictokickbackin,Iheartheunmistakablesoundofmoaning.
Walkingovertomybrother’sroom,Ibangmyfistagainstthedoor,hardenoughtorattleit,beforesnatchingaholdoftheknobandshovingthefuckingthingopen.
“Whoa,PrettyBoy!”Itiltmyheadasthedoorslamsintothewall.“Ididn’tknowFirecrackerwassobendy.”
Shouts,panic,astheyscramble,throwingblanketsoverthemselves,FirecrackercoveringupentirelyasshepushesLeooffofher.Truthfully,Isawnothing,butifI’mgettingcock-blocked,soismybrother.
Yeah,whatever…nooneeversaidIwasmature
“Jesus,bro!”heyells.“Doyoumind?”
“Keepthefuckingnoisesdown,”Itellhim.“Somepeoplearebusynotfuckinganddon’twanttohearthatshit.”
Iwalkawayasheyellssomethingatme,somethingthathassomethingtodowithmebeinganasshole,asifIdon’talreadyknowthatlittlefactaboutmyself.Imakemywaydownstairs,headingtothelibrary,damnnearslammingintoScarlet.
Shethruststhebearatme,shovingitrightinmyface.“Whatthehell,Lorenzo?”
Ipushherhandaway.“What?”
“Whodidthis?”
“Whodidwhat?”
“This…sewing.”
Ilookatthebearinthedimmorninglight,atthethicklinesofblackthreadknottedtogether,beforemygazeturnstoScarlet,whoclutchesthethingsotightlyitlookslikeshemightbusttheholesrightbackopen.
Tearsswiminhereyes.
Myskinstartstocrawl.
Ishould’veknownbetter.
ThisiswhyIdon’tdoshitlikethis.WhyIdon’ttrytohelppeople.WhyIdon’tfuckingbother.Ithink,hey,it’simportanttoher,let’sdosomethingaboutit,becausemaybeI’mnotalwaysanasshole,maybeIcanbeaniceguysometimes,butIshouldknowbetterthantothinkanythingthenicesideofmedoescouldeverbegoodenoughforsomebodyelse.
“So,what,Ican’tsewworthadamn,”Isay,pushingpastherintothelibrary.
Sheturnsinthedoorway,staringatme.“Yousewedit?Youdidthis?”
“Yeah,sowhat?”
Isitdowninmychair,regardingherassheblinksrapidly,likeshesuddenlydoesn’tcomprehendEnglish,staringatmelikeI’mastranger,likeshedoesn’tknowwhoIam.
“Look,bepissedallyouwant,Scarlet.Goboo-hooinafuckingcorner,ifthat’swhatyouwanttodo,butifyoustartinonmebecauseIfuckedthethingupevenmore,I’mliabletoflipoutandgiveusallareasontocry,sogodothatshitsomewhereelse.”
“Seriously?”Shegapesatme.“Areyoufuckingwithme,Lorenzo?”
Closingmyeyes,Irunmyhandsdownmyface,muttering,“IwishIwas…”
Thedoorslams,andIlookup,tensing.She’sstillstandingintheroom,stillstaringatme.
Shecomestowardme,clutchingthebear.“Ichangedmymind.”
“Aboutwhat?”
“I’minthemoodnow.”
“What?”
Sheclimbsrightontomylap,forcingherwayonthechair,tossingthebearontopofmypuzzleonthetableasshestraddlesme.Nohesitation,thewomanrollsherhips,grindingagainstme,assherunsherfingersthroughmythickhair.
Ineedahaircut.Desperately
It’sfallingintomyface.
Graspingtighttothelocks,tuggingtothepointofpain,ScarletyanksmyheadupsoI’lllookather.
“Howareyousofuckingdense?”sheasks.“YouthinkI’mmadrightnow?Seriously?”
Therearestilltearsinhereyes.“Youlooklikeyoumightcry.”
“Becauseit’sthenicestthinganybodyhaseverdoneforme,Lorenzo.You’retryingtofixthings.”
Igrasphercheeks,framingherfacewithmyhands,andstareherstraightintheeyes,deadserious,asIsay,“Ifyou’regoingtostartcrying,Ineedyoutonotdoitwhileyou’resittingonmylap.”
Sheletsoutalightlaugh,grabbingmywrists,pullingmyhandsawayfromherface,forcingmyarmsaroundher.
“I’mnotgoingtocry,”shesays,fumblingbetweenus,undoingmypants.“I’mgoingtoshowyoumyappreciationinstead.”
“Youdon’thavetogivepussytoshowgratitude,”Itellher.“Asimple‘thanks’willsuffice.”
“Iknow,”shewhispers.“Thankyou.ButIwanttogiveyoupussytoshowyouI’mgrateful,becausethewayIfeelwhenyou’reinsideofme?There’snothingelselikeit.Youmakemefeelalive.”
Thosewordstwistmeup,andIwanttosaysomethingaboutit…abouthowIneedhertonotputsomuchstockinmeandgetsodamnsentimental…butmycockbeatsmyvoiceintermsofspringingfree,andthesecondshestartsstrokingmeallIcanthinkis‘fuck…fuck…fuckit’.
LikeI’mgonnaturndownpussy…
Sheshiftslaceasidetosinkdownontome,ridingme,nohesitation.Fuck,itfeelslikeHeaven.Warm,andwet,andsodamntightwrappedaroundmycock.Ialwaysthoughtitwouldgettedious,fuckingthesamewomanoverandover,butnothingaboutScarletiseverboring.
Thirtyseconds.That’sallthetimeIgetbeforesomebodyshovesthelibrarydooropenwithoutknocking.Sonofabitch.I’dpulloutmygunonprinciple,asusual,butScarlet’skindofsittingonit,soI’dhavetothrowherofffirst.
That’soutofthequestion.
Ilookover,seeingmybrotherinthedoorway,justintimeforshocktoflashacrosshisfaceashethrowshishandsup.“Seriously?Howdoyoulikebeinginterrupted?Huh?”
“Doesn’tbotherme,”Itellhim,butheknowsthat.MygazeturnstoScarlet,whoisstilllookingatme.“Doesitbotheryou?”
Shescoffs,notstoppingwhatshe’sdoing.“Ican’tcounthowmanytimesI’vebeenwatched.”
Thedoorslamsclosedagainabouttensecondslaterasmybrothershouts,“You’rebothcrazy!”
“Guesshedidn’twanttowatch,afterall,”Scarletsays.
Iletherstayincontrol,lettingherdowhatshewantstodo.Reachingbetweenus,Irubherclit,gettingheroffbeforeIfinallyletloose.Closingmyeyes,grunting,Icomeinsideofher.Fuck,itfeelsgood,nothingatallbetweenus.
Shestopsmovingafteramoment,herforeheadrestingagainstmineasshebreathesdeeply.
“You’rewelcome,”Isayafterabitofsilence.
Shelaughs,climbingoffofmylap.
Ituckmyselfbackaway,fasteningmypantsbeforeshovingupoutofthechair.
“So,areyouhungry?”Iaskasshestaresatthebear.“I’mgoingtomakepancakes.”
“Uh…sure.”
Iwalkout,lettingherpullherselftogether,andheadtothekitchentofindSevensittingatthetable,readingtoday’snewspaper.
Look,I’mgoingtobehonestwithyou—Iforgottheguywashere.He’sgoodatbeingunassuming.“Yourwifecookforyouthismorning,Seven?”
Heglancesupatme.“Ofcourse.”
Ofcourse
Igettheshittogethertocook,andyes,beforeyouask,Iindeedwashmyhands.Nopussyjuicesinthepancakes.I’mwhippingtogetherthebatter,tossingsomedamnchocolatechipsinforthehellofit,whenSevenspeaksagain.
“Hewould’vekeptsomething,youknow,”hesaysquietly,stillflippingthroughthepaper.
“Who?”
“Jones,”hesays.“He’llhavesomethingonAristov,somethingincriminating,justincase.”
Ialmostaskhowheknowsthat,butit’sastupidquestion,andItrytoneveraskthosemyself.
Beenthere,donethat
“Afile,maybepictures,maybearecording…something.Andhe’llkeepitsomewherewhereAristovcan’tgettoit.Atwork,probably…hidinginplainsight.Thatwayifanythingeverhappenedtohim,thepolicewouldfindit.SomethingthatcouldtakedownAristov,soJoneswouldgetthelastlaugh.Mightbebeneficialtogetourhandsonwhateveritis.”
Movementinthedoorwaycatchesmyeye.Iglanceover,seeingScarletlurking,listeningtoourconversation.Noseylittlewitch.Sevenlooksherway,avertinghiseyesquicklywhenheseesherstandingthereinjustat-shirtandunderwear.
She’snotevennakedandhisallergyisactingup.
“IsawthefileGabehasonKassian,”shesays.“Itwasonhisdeskwithalltheothers.Ilookedthroughit,buttherewasnothingworthwhile.”
“He’llkeeptherealgoodssomewhereelse,”Sevensays.“Adeskdrawer,alockedbox…hehadsomepicturesstashedinhislockeronaflashdrivelasttime.”
Scarlet’sbrowfurrows.“Lasttime?”
“Ah,SevenhereandDetectiveFuckfaceareoldfriends,”Iexplain.“Wepaidhimavisitthismorning,discoveredhe’sbeentakingituptheassfromyourRussian.”
“Wait,what?He’sworkingforKassian?”
“Seemsso,”Isay.“Hegavemesomebullshitspielaboutnoproofofacrime,blahblahblah,begratefulyou’realive,yaddayaddayadda,buthey,it’sallgoodbecausethekid,she’sfine,sowhateverwhatever.Iwantedtoshoothiminthefuckingface,butthenI’dhavetoblameitonSeven,soIkeptmycoolforhissake.”
“Iappreciatethat,boss,”Sevensays.“I’msureyou’llhaveplentychanceslatertoshoothim.”
Istartmakingpancakes,dishingoutthebatter,asScarletwandersaway,disappearing.
“Idon’tthinkshetookthatwell,”Sevensaysaftershe’sgone.“Maybeyoushouldgotalktoher.”
“Andsaywhat?”
“Tellherit’llbeokay,thatthingswillworkout.Maybeit’llmakeherfeelbetter.”
“Theonlythingthat’llmakeherfeelbetter,Seven,ishavingherproblemsolved,sothat’swhatI’mgoingtodo.”
“Andthenwhat?”
Iflipapancakebeforeturningtohim.“Andthenshegetsthebullshitfairytalelifeshewantswithherdaughter.”
“Andyou?”
Ilaughdryly.“AndImightfinallygettofinishmyfuckingpuzzle.”ChapterFour
Moremonths
Moreweeks.
Moredays.
Somanyhours
Thelittlegirlcouldn’tcountsohigh,eventhoughtheCowardlyLionstilltriedtomakeherlearnallthetime.Shedidn’ttalkmuch,doingasshewastold,eatingherporridgeandusingherwords.Shedidn’tcryanymore,likeshe’dusedupallhertears,andshefacedtheTinManwheneverhewasaround,becauseshedidn’twanthimtoscareher.
Faceyourfearsandwipeyourtears
Sherememberedthosewords,eventhoughshedidn’thearthemanymoreinhermind.Shecouldn’thearhermother’svoice,nomatterhowhardshetried.
MoneyscatteredalongthebartopastheCowardlyLionemptiedhispocket,droppingitallinfrontofthelittlegirl.Shecaughtasilvercoinbeforeitrolledaway,shovingitbackontothepile.
“Well?”Hesatdownacrossfromher.“Whatisit?”
Thedicegamegottooeasyforher,heclaimed,sonowsheaddeduphismoneyeveryday.Mostdaysitwasdollarsandquarters,butsomedaysitwasmorecolorfulpaper.Funnymoney,shecalledit.
Thisdaywasamixture.
Itwasgoingtobehard
Shestartedsortingitintopiles,thestuffsheknewandtheneverythingelse.Shepickeduponeofthebills—aredcoloredone—andhereyeswidenedatthebignumber.“Whoa!Whatisthis?”
“Five-thousand,”hesaid.
“Five-thousanddollars?”
“No,it’smorelikeeightydollars.”
“Butwhy’sitsayafiveandthezeroes?”
“Rubles.”
“What?”
“It’srubles.”
“Likerubies?”
Helaughedatthatasfootstepsheadedintothekitchenwheretheysat.TheTinMan.Hewascarryingsomething,butthelittlegirldidn’tlook,mindingherownbusinesssoshedidn’tsethimoff.
“Pindos,”theCowardlyLionsaid,motioningtowardher.“Iswearit,Vor,she’ssoAmerican,justlikethatmotherofhers.”
TheTinMandidn’trespondtothatasheshovedinatthebarbesidehim,acrossfromthelittlegirl,settingsomethingdownbesidethemoneyshewascounting.Curious,shepeekedatit,hereyeswideningashetorethetopoffofaplasticcontainerthatheldwhatlookedalotlikeitcouldbecake.“What’sthat?”
“Whatdoesitlooklike?”
“Cake,”shesaid.
“Medovik,”theTinMansaid.“Honeycake.”
“What’sitfor?”
“Yourbirthday.”
Thelittlegirlwatchedhimwithsurpriseashepulledoutsomecandles,shovingthemthroughthetoplayerofthecrumblytan-coloredcake.Itdidn’tlooklikethebirthdaycakesshesawbefore,butitwasstillcake,andthatmattered.“Mybirthday?”
“Itisyourbirthdaytoday.”
Herbrowfurrowed.Howcouldthatbe?ShethoughtherbirthdaycamebeforeChristmas.Wasitalreadyalmostanotheryearagain?“Howdoyouknow?”
“BecauseIwastherewhenithappened,”hesaidwithalaugh.“Howdoyounotknow?”
Sheshrugged.“Idon’tknowwhatdayitis.”
Helitthecandles.“Makeyourwish.”
“Areyougoingtosing?”
“No.”
“I’llsing,”theCowardlyLionchimedinbeforelaunchingintoaraunchysong,loudandvulgar.
“That’snottherightsong,”shesaid,reachingacrossthebarandslappingherhandoverhismouth,tryingtostophim.“Don’tsingthat!”
Helaughed,pullingherhandaway,stillsinging.
“Enough,”theTinMansaid,silencinghimwiththatsimpleword.“Blowoutthecandles,kitten.”
Shelookedattheflickeringcandles,sighing.Iwanttogohome,withMommyandBuster.Itwastheonlythingshewanted.
Sheblewhard,extinguishingthemallwithonebreath.TheTinManpluckedthecandlesbackout,tossingtheminthetrashbeforewalkingaway.
Assoonashewasgone,CowardlyLiongrabbedapairofforks,tossingonetoherashepulledthecakecloser.Hetookabiterightoutofthecontainer,shovinghismouthfull.“Well,whatareyouwaitingfor?Eatup!”
Thelittlegirlhauledherselfupontothebaragainandtookabiteofcake.Itwasn’tsosweet,anditdidn’treallyhavefrosting,butittastedalotbetterthaneverythingelsehemadehereat.
Shesatthere,withtheCowardlyLion,tearingthecakeapart,stuffingthemselvesfullofit,leavingnoneforanyoneelse.
“DoyouthinkDaddywantedsome?”sheasked,crumbscoveringher.
“No,”hereplied.“Hedoesn’tlikesweetthings…notevenhiswomen,especiallyyourmother.”
Helaughedathisownjoke,butshejustmadeafaceathimasshetossedherforkdown.Sometimeshecouldbenice,butothertimeshesaidmeanthingsthelittlegirldidn’tlike.
“Ah,don’tlookatmethatway,”hesaid,puttinghishandonherfaceandplayfullypushingher.“Ionlyspeakthetruth.”
“Whyareyouhere?”sheasked,snatchinghishandaway.“You’realwayshere.”
“Whyareyouhere?”
“Becausehe’smydaddy.Hemakesmebehere.”
“Yeah,well,he’smybrother,”hesaid.“Andhekindofmakesme,too.”
TheCowardlyLionstartedcollectinghisthingsasshegasped.“Doesthatmeanyou’remyfamily?”
“I’mafraidso,”hesaid,shovinghismoneyinhispocketbeforehandingherthered5000bill.“Happybirthday,sweetSasha…although,justbetweenus,yourbirthdaywasmonthsago.Ijusttoldhimitwastodaysoyoucouldmakeanotherwish.”
Hestrolledout,leavingherthere,clutchingthemoneyandutterlyconfused,coveredincake.ChapterFive
Sashawould’velikedchocolatechipsinherpancakes.
That’swhatI’mthinking,asIsitatthekitchentablebesideLorenzo,slowlychewingasmallbite.I’venevermadepancakesfromscratch.Hell,I’venevermadeanythingfromscratch.IwishIwould’veatleasttriedbefore,though.
Sashawould’veeatenthemeverymorning,ifshecould’ve,andIknow,withoutadoubt,shewouldloveLorenzo’spancakes.
IwonderifKassianhasmadethemforher.
IwonderwhatKassianismakingher.
IwonderifKassianisevenfeedingher
Allday,everyday,it’sinthebackofmymind.
Issheeating?
Isshesleeping?
Isshebreathing?
Willwemakeitthroughthis?
WillIeverseeheragain?
Willshestillrememberme?
Igetlostinmyhead,drowninginthosethoughts,forcingdownbites,soconsumedbythesetorturousunansweredquestionsthatIalmostdon’thearthewordsspokenfromacrossthetable.
“I’mmovingout.”
Blinkingafewtimes,pullingmyselfoutofmystupor,IglanceoveratLeoandwonderifI’mimaginingthings,becausewhoa
Leostaresdownathisplate,athisuntouchedbreakfast.Helooksnervous
“Whatdidyoujustsay?”Lorenzoasks,histoneclipped.
“I’mmovingout,”Leosaysagain.
“Thehellyouare,”Lorenzosays,droppinghisforkwithaclang.“You’renotgoinganywhere.”
“Iam,”Leosays.“MelandI,we’regoingtogetaplacetogether.Ourownplace.We’vebeentalkingaboutitforawhile,andwell,Ithinkit’stime.”
“Youthinkit’stime,doyou?”
“Yes.”
“Andhowareyougoingtodothat,huh?Howareyougoingtoaffordthat?”
“I’vegotmyjob,”Leosays.“Icanpickupextrashifts,ifIneedto,butI’vegotsomemoneysavedup.AndMel,she’sabouttograduate,soshe’llbegettingajobsoon,whichmeansthere’snoreasonwecan’t—”
BeforeLeocanfinish,Lorenzoslamshishandsagainstthetable,theloudbangechoingthroughthekitchen,rattlingplatesandknockingdrinksover.“Thereareplentyofreasonswhyyoucan’t.Doyouneedmetofuckingnamethemforyou,Leonardo?”
Astrained,painfulsilenceswellsthroughtheroom.Nobodymoves.Nobodyspeaks.Hell,Idon’tknowifanyoneisevenbreathing.Lorenzoglaresacrossthetableathislittlebrother…abrotherwhosenamehejustused.I’veneverheardhimdothatbefore.Thesoundofitisdownrightchilling.
Ishiver.
“Ishouldgo,”Melodywhispers,rubbingLeo’sarmasshestandsupfromthechairbesidehim.“I’llletyouguystalk.”
“Weshouldallprobablydothat,”Sevensaysfromwherehelurksacrosstheroom.“Morgan?”
Iglanceathimwhenhesaysmyname,watchingashewalksoutofthekitchen,realizinghe’sprettymuchtellingmetogetmyassupandleave,too.Mygazeflickersaroundtheroom,landingonLorenzo,wholookssecondsawayfromflippingthetableover.Shit
Igetupwithoutawordandwalkoutofthekitchen,barelymakingitintothehallwaywhenchaoserupts.Iheadtowardthelibrary,whereSevenstandsinthedoorway,lookingworriedashestaresbackatthekitchen.
“Whataretheoddsthatendswell?”Iask.
“Depends.”
“Onwhat?”
“Onwhoyouwantittoendwellfor.”
Ithinkaboutthatforamoment,asLorenzo’sfuriousvoiceechoesoutfromthekitchen,followedbyLeoshoutingrightback.
“Whataretheoddsitendswellforanyone?”
“Notverygood,”Sevenadmits,turningtome.“Ishouldheadhome.Takecare,Morgan.”
Hewalksaway,headingforthefrontdoor,asIgointothelibrary.Busterlaysonthetable,surroundedbyascatteringofneedlesandthread.Heboughtasewingkit.Unbelievable.Shakingmyhead,Ipickupthebear,runningmyfingersalongtheroughknottedstitchesonitssideandchest.
Grabbinganeedle,Icarefullythreadit,tuckingwhatremainsofBuster’sdamagedearinbeforedoingmybesttosewitclosedsonomorestuffingescapes.I’mtryingtoignorethefightinginthekitchen,butneitherguyisholdingback.
Eventhehappiesthomesaren’talwayshappy
Theangriertheygrow,themoreuncomfortableitfeels,soafterawhileIsnatchuptherestofthesewingkitandtakethebearupstairs.Leo’sbedroomdoorisopen,Melodysittingontheendofthebed,listeningtothesoundsfromdownstairs.
Look,IknowI’mnotanyolderthanher,butI’vebeenthroughsomuchthatitfeelslikeI’vegotafewlifetimesundermybelt.WhenIlookatMelody,Iverymuchseeakid,onewhohasspentherlifeshelteredfromtheworld,andatthemoment,shelooksscared.
Itstirsupthemotherinme,thewomanwhotaughtherlittlegirltofaceherfears.Monstersarereal,buttheyonlyreallyhavepowerifyouletyourselfbeafraid
“It’llbeokay,youknow,”Isay,stallinginfrontofthebedroom,capturingMelody’sattention.
Shesighs.“Ihopeso.”
“Itwill,”Isay.“Nomatterwhat.”
“Leoknewhewouldn’ttakeitwell,”shesays.“That’swhyhehasn’tbroughtitupuntilnow,butIpushedhimto…Ifeellikeit’smyfault.”
“It’snotyourfault,”Itellher.“Leo’sallowedtohavehisownlife,sodon’tfeelguilty.Lorenzo’sjust…”
“Insane,”Melodymutters.
Ilaugh.“Well,yeah,butmostlyhe’sjustworried.He’llcalmdown.”
“Yousureaboutthat?”
“Prettysure,”Isay.“Hemightnotlikeit,buthe’lldealwithit.”
ShesmileswhenIsaythat,butitdoesn’tlastlong,asaloudnoiseechoesthroughthehouse,thesoundofsomethingbanging,thingsclattering.
Yep,flippedthetableover.
Bye-bye,pancakes
Melodylooksworriedagain,butIlaughlightly,turningaway.“Ofcourse,hehastothrowhislittletempertantrumfirst,butit’llallworkoutintheend.”
IheadtoLorenzo’sbedroom,makingmywayintohisbathroom,searchingdrawersandcabinetsforafirstaidkit.Heatleastshouldhaveoneofthose,right?Hemightnotgivehimselfstitches,butheoughttohavebandages.Imanagetodiguparollofgauzeandtakeitintothebedroom,sittingdownonthebedtofinishingfixingupthebear.Iwrapthegauzearoundhisburnedleg,coveringitlikeamakeshiftcast,andstitchalineofthreadalongtheedgeofittosecureittothebear.
IhearstompingonthestairseventuallybeforeLeo’sbedroomdoorslams,followedmomentslaterbyanothersetoffootsteps.Ilistenastheyhesitateatthetopofthestairs,likehe’sdecidingwheretogoorwhattodo,whethertodropitorkeepthefightinggoinguphere.
“Don’tdoit,”Imutterundermybreath.“Justletitgo.”
Lorenzostandsthereforanentireminute,debating,beforeheexhalesloudly,almostafrustratedgrowl,andmakeshiswaytothebedroomwhereIam.Heappearscasual,unruffled,butIcantellit’sallanact.
Myheartraces,skintinglingwhenhisgazemeetsmine.He’steeteringonabrink.Iknowwhatit’sliketodetachfromreality,toshutdowntokeepfromfeelingsthings.Ipitywhoevermightcrossthismanifheevertrulyletsthecoldnessconsumehim.He’sclingingtoaliferaftrightnow.Themomenthesaysfuckitandletsgo,everyone’sgoingtodrowninthewaveshecreatesbecausehe’snotgoingdownalone.
Shouldthatscareme?Probably
Doesit?Nope
“Iknowhowyou’refeeling,”Isayquietly.
“I’mfine,”hesays,soundingfine,butIknowheisn’t.He’ssodamnfarfromfinethereisn’tevenawordforwhatthismanis.
“Ihaveakid.”
“I’maware.”
“SoIknowhowyou’refeeling,”Isayagain.“Youwanttowraptheminbubblewrapandprotectthemfromtheworld,butyou’reonlyhuman.Wecanonlydosomuchforthem.”
“Yourkidiswhat,four?”
“Five,”Isay.“Sheturnedfiveafterhetookher.”
“Five,”herepeats,strollingintotheroom.“PrettyBoyisinhistwenties.Andbesides,he’snotmykid.”
“True,”Isay.“Doesn’tchangehowIknowyou’refeeling,though.Youraisedhim.Youwanttokeephimfromharm.”
“Iwanthimtonotbesuchafuckingfool,”Lorenzosays,sittingdownbesideme.
“He’sjusthopeful,”Isay,“andhe’sinlove.”
“He’safuckingfool,”Lorenzosays,lyingbackonthebed,coveringhisfacewithhisforearm.
“It’ssweet,”Itellhim.“Justbecauseyoudon’twantallofthatdoesn’tmeanthere’snoworthtoit.Andreally,letsbereal…didyouexpecthimtolivewithyouforever?He’sgrown,andyouandhim…you’redifferentpeople.Hewantstocuddleandwatchrom-comswithhisgirlfriend.Youwanttoshootatthingsandstealcouchesthatweremolestedbystrippers.Thiswaskindofinevitable.”
Hisarmshifts.Icanfeelhisgaze.
Idon’tlookathim,though,onlygettingaslightglimpsefrommyperipheral.IfwhatIsaidpissedhimoff,hedoesn’tsayawordaboutit,juststaringatmeinsilenceasItinkerwiththebear.
Afteramoment,hereachesouttowardme,hishandonmyback,gentlyrubbingit,sendingsparksupmyspine.Iturn,caughtoffguardbythetendertouch,andfinallylookbackathim.
“Areyoutryingtofuckrightnow?”Iask.“Becausewejusthadsex,like,anhourago,beforeyouruinedbreakfast.”
Helaughs,sittingup,hishandleavingmybacktoinsteadrufflemyhair.Whatthehell?Hepushesupoffthebed,strollingtowardthebathroom.
“Ineedtoshower,”hesays.“Ismelllikepussy.”
“Yougodothat.I’mgonna…dosomething,Idon’tknow.”
“Dowhateveryouwant,Scarlet,”hesays,whichisquicklybecominghisfavoritesentence—eventhoughhetotallyregretteditlasttimehesaidthat.“Justdomeasmallfavorandkeepyourselfoutoftrouble,becauseI’mnotinthemoodtoplayWhiteKnightrightnow.”
***
KassianusedtotellmeIwasstupid.
Sopretty,yetsostupid.Thatiswhyyoucannotbetrustedtomakedecisions,suka.
Howmanytimeshadhetoldmethat?Howmanytimeshadheusedthosewordstojustifythebrutalityheinflicteduponmylife?
SomanytimesIlostcount.
Ineveronceboughtit,neveroncebelievedhisbullshit,butsittinghereatawoodenpicnictableontheConeyIslandboardwalk,I’mwonderingifmaybehewasontosomethingaboutme.
Stupid.Sostupid
Ishouldn’tbehere.
Theboardwalkispacked,despitetheweatherstillbeingcool,theamusementparknotfaroffbehindme,socloseIcanheartherumblingoftheCycloneandthefaintnoiseoftheWonderWheelrunning,excitedscreamsandchildrenlaughingandmusicplaying…thesoundofhappiness
IcanstillrememberthefirsttimeIfeltit,thefirsttimeIsawthelightsilluminatingtheConeyIslandnightskyandheardthelaughterandthought‘thisiswhereI’mmeanttobeforever’.Standingrightherealongthisboardwalk,dirtyandtired,havingnofoodormoney,fourteenyearsoldandonmyown.
Stillsomuchachildatheartbutlookingwaytoomuchlikeawomanontheoutside.
Enoughtocapturehisattention.
Enoughtopiquehisinterest.
Thelate-Julyairhadbeensweltering,atouchofsunburnonmysweat-stickyskin,sandclingingtomylegsbeneathmycut-offjeanshorts.Iwasthirsty,andhungry,mystomachangrilygrowlingasIwalkedalong,passingvendoraftervendorontheboardwalk,thearrayofsmellsassaultingme.
Ijustwantedsomefood.
“Excuseme,doyouhavesomechangeyoucanspare?”Iasked,againandagain,topeoplewhopassed,gettinganickelhere,aquarterthere,butmostofferedmenothingmorethanrepulsion.GetajobGetoutofmyfaceFuckingscumDisgustingpieceofshit.Thewordsbouncedoffofme,nevergettingundermyskin,becauseIwasinthecityofdreams.
Anddreams?Ihadplentyofthose.
Ittookmorethananhourformetoamassapocketfullofchange.Isatagainstarailinginthedarkness,outofthewayofthecrowd,countingit.
IneededfourdollarsforacovetedhotdogatNathan’s.
Ionlyhadalittlemorethanthreedollarscollected.
Sighing,Ishovedthechangebackaway.Itriedtobeagoodperson,Idid,butdesperationhasawayofbendingmorals.Lying,cheating,stealing…Ihateddoingit,butsometimes,Iranoutofoptions,andIhadtodowhatIhadtodo,blurringthelines.Beggingreliedonthecompassionofothers,andI’dlearnedquitequicklythatpeopleweren’talwayscompassionate.Ihadtolookoutformyself.
ShadowsmovedalongtheboardwalkasIcontemplatedmynextmove.ApairofshinyblackdressshoesappearedinfrontofwhereIsat.BeforeIcouldreact,aflashofcrispgreenpaperdangledinmyface.
Ithoughtitwasadollar…untilIsawthezeroes.
Ahundreddollarbill
Myeyesdartedtothemanholdingit.Hewashandsome,almostlikeaworkofart,darkinkcoatinghisfingersandpartofhisneck,wearingadarkfittedsuit,despitetheheat.
“Takeit,”hesaid,wavingthemoneyatme,hisforeignaccentthick.
“I,uh…Ican’t.”Ishakemyhead.“That’swaytoomuchmoney.”
Hecurvedaneyebrow.“Toomuch?”
“Ijustneedlike,anotherdollar.Justenoughtobuyahotdogtonight.”
Hecroucheddown,stillholdingthemoney.“Whatwillyoudotomorrow?Andthenextday?”
Ishrugged.“SamethingIdidtoday.”
“Butyouwillnottakemymoney?”
“No.”
Helaughed,likethatamusedhim,beforestandingbackup.“Comeon,Iwillbuyyouthathotdogyouwant,prettygirl,andIwillnottakenoforananswer.”
Rightthere.Rightthere.JustafewfeetfromwhereIsitrightnow.KassianAristovhadwatchedmeforoveranhourasIbeggedforchange,hungry,beforehewaltzedintomyworldandtookovermylife.
Hetoldmeonceitwasmytenacitythatintriguedhim.Iwassteadfast,determinedtotakecareofmyself,andthatgothimcurious.
Heknew,rightthen,thatIwouldbehis.Hewantednothingmorethantobreakme.
“Excuseme,issomeonesittinghere?”
Ilookupatthesoundofthemalevoice…NewYorkaccent,thankGod.Amanstandsthere—darkhair,lighteyes,fiveo’clockshadowalonghisjawline.There’salittlegirlwithhim,clutchingholdofhishand.Four,maybefiveyearsold,withbrighteyesandabigsmile,herdarkhairFrenchbraided.
“No,”Isayquietly,offeringasmile.“Helpyourself.”
“Thankyou,”hesaysastheysitdownacrossfrommeatthepicnictable,settlinginwithhotdogsandanorderofcheesefrieswithtwoforks.
“Daddy,look!”thelittlegirlsaysexcitedly,grabbingthesleeveofhisshirtandtuggingonitasshelookspastme,towardtherides.“Lookatthosethingsgoingallroundandroundstill!”
Helaughs.“Iknow,Jenny.Isee.Weneedtoeatnow,sowecangethome.We’llcomebackanothertime,Ipromise.”
Thelittlegirlistooexcitedtoeat,ramblingonandonabouttheamusementpark,climbingalloverthetable,givingherfatherahellofatime.She’snotcarefulatonepoint,wavingherarmsallaround,smackingherdrinkoverandsendingitspillingacrossthepicnictable,splashingmewithit.
“Jesus,Jenny,youneedtocalmdown!”themansays,grabbingnapkins,tryingtocleanupthemess,asheshootsmeanapologeticlook.“I’msosorry.Shegotyou,didn’tshe?She’sjustexcited…”
“It’sokay,”Isayquietly,lookingatthelittlegirl,whoseemstobeonthevergeoftears.“I’vegotadaughter.Iknowhowitis.”
“Yeah?”Helaughs.“Howold?”
“Five.”
“Ah,soyoudoknowhowitis.”
“I’msix!”thelittlegirlchimedin.
“Wow,six?”Ifeignshock.“Ibetthatmeansyoucancountprettyhigh,huh?”
“Toahundred!”sheexclaims.“Youwannahearmedoit?Ican!”
I’mabouttosayyes,becauseyoudon’tturndownapropositionlikethat,whenherfatherchimesin.“Asmuchaswe’dalllovetohearit,baby,we’vegottogetgoing.”
“Nexttime,”thelittlegirltellsme,nodding.“I’lldoitwhenwecomebackbecauseDaddysaidwewould!”
Igiveherasmile.“Makesureyoupractice.”
“Iwill,”shesays.
Herfathershootsmealookthatsayshemightnotbetoofondofmysuggestion,likemaybeshealreadypracticestoomuch,butIdon’tfeelbadforhim,notatall.
Hedoesn’tknowhowluckyheis.
Hedoesn’tknowhowgoodhe’sgotit.
WhatIwouldn’tgivetoliveinahouseagainswaddledwiththeincessantchatterofalittlegirlwhojustwantsyoutoshareinherexcitement…
Isithereafterthey’regone.Otherscomeandgo,restingforabitbeforemovingon,afewpeoplepolitelygreetingmebutforthemostpart,I’mleftalone.Sixo’clockapproaches,thebeachclosing.
Gettingup,shovingmyhandsinmyhoodiepockets,IkeepmyheaddownasIheaddowntheboardwalk.It’sonlyafewblockstothepoliceprecinct,darknessfallingbythetimeIreachit.Shiftchange.OfficerRimmel,whousuallyworksthefrontdesk,iswalkingout,ayoungguysittingthereinstead,oneI’veneverencountered.
Ialwayscomeinthemornings.
I’veneverbeenhereatthishour.
“Heythere,”Isay,smilingsweetly,tryingtoturnonthecharm.“AnychanceDetectiveJonesisstillinthebuilding?Imeanttostopbyearlier,andwell,Igotalittlecaughtupwiththingsandjustmadeit.”
“I’mnotsure,”hesays,pickingupthephone.“Icancalluptohisoffice.WhoshouldItellhimishere?”
“I,uh…Scarlet.”Shit.“AnychanceIcanjustrunuptherequick?It’llonlytakeamoment.It’ssortofasurprise,ifyouknowwhatImean.”
Gabe’santicsarenotorious.Evenafrontdeskrookiewouldknowallaboutthewayheiswithfemalevisitors.Theofficerhesitatesbeforehangingupthephone,scowlingandmotioningtowardtheelevators.“Goahead.”
Idon’tlinger,notwantinghimtochangehismind,hittingtheelevatorandheadingstraightuptothethirdfloor.GabeislockinguphisofficetoleavewhenIgetthere,andIwatch,followinghimtothelockerroomonthefloor.
Islipinsidebehindhim.
Hislocker’sinthefarback,tuckedawayinthecorner.Heapproachesit,startingtoundothecombinationlockasIcreepcloser.Heturnstheknob,glancingback,alookflashingacrosshisfacewhenhespotsme.Mystomachdropsatthesightofit.Anger.Hunger.SomethingIdon’tlike.There’sasinistertwinkleinhiseyes.Hedoesn’traiseanyalarms,though,continuingwhathe’sdoing,takingthelockofftoopenhislocker.
It’safuckingmessinthere.
“Well,ifitisn’tMissMyers,”hesays,hiseyesflickeringallaroundme.“Youalone?”
“Ofcourse,”Isay.“ThoughtI’dcatchyoubeforeyouleft.IfeltbadabouthowIactedlasttime,badabouthowweleftthings.”
He’ssoeasy.That’sallittakes.Icanseethedistrustinhiseyes,buthe’snotgoingtopassupanopportunityifhethinksonemightexist.AssoonasI’mwithinreach,hegrabsaholdofme,draggingmecloser.Iwrapmyarmsaroundhim,grimacingwhenheburieshisfaceinmyneck,kissingandbitingattheskin.
Ugh.Ugh.Ugh.
Iknow,Iknow…ughlookaway
“Where’syourlittleattackdog?”heasks,abitterbitetohisvoice.“Youknow,themuttyousentheretothreatenmethismorning?”
“Who?”
“Scar,”hesays—althoughnotlongagoheclaimedtohaveneverheardofanybodycalledthat.“Tellmeyouhaven’ttakenupwiththatguy,Morgan.Itoldyou—”
“AnyonenamedScaristrouble,Iknow,”Isay.“He’sgothisownmotivations,though.Ithasnothingtodowithme.”
“Sureseemedto,”hesays.“Toldmehe’dcutoffmydickifIevertouchedyouagain.”
Myeyeswiden.Hesaidthat?
Gabepullsbacksometolookatme,hishandsroaming.Itmakesmyskincrawl,andIballmyhandsintofists,keepingmyselffrompunchinghim.
“Doesn’tmatter,”Gabesays,grinning.“Kassian…Scar…doesn’tmatterwhothinkstheyownyou.Won’teverstopus.Isn’tthatright?”
“Right,”Iwhisperwhenheturnsmearound,shovingmeagainsttherowoflockersashefumbleswithhispants.FuckFuckFuck.MyheartracesasIpanic,mybodyshaking,wedgedbetweenhimandthecoldmetal.“Wait…Gabe,wait…condom.”
Hesighs,reachingpastme,shiftingthingsasideinhislockerbutcomingupempty.“Damnit.”
“Don’tyouhavesomeinyouroffice?”
“Yes,but—”
“Justgograbone.”
Hegroans,pushingawayandsaying,“Waithere.”
Mystomachtwistsashewalksaway,leavingmeherealone.Thesecondhe’soutofsight,Idiverightforhislocker,knowingI’veonlygotlikethirtysecondsuntilhegetsbackandthenI’mfucked.
Figuratively.Maybeliterally,attherateI’mgoing.
I’dratherneitherwayhappen,tobehonest.
SoIgrabstuff,sortingthroughit,lookingforanythingthatmightbesomething,butitallseemstobenothing.Nofiles,nopapers,nojournals,noflashdrives.Shit.I’mabouttogiveup,onthevergeofpanicking,whenmyhandhitssomethingwedgedalongthebackatthebottom.
ADVD.
Iyankitout,heartracing.It’stuckedintoawornprotectivesleeve,alonewordwrittenonthefrontofitinfadedblackmarker:Aristov
“ThankyouGod,andJesus,andevenfuckingKrampus,”Imumble,shovingtheDVDinmyhoodiepocket,grippingittightlyasIscurryaway.
Igettothedoorofthelockerroomjustasitswingsopen.Gabe
“Whoa,whereareyourunningoffto?”heasks,grabbingmyarmtostopme.“Comehere.”
“Ican’tdothis,”Isay,tryingtopullaway.“I’msorry,Ijust…Ican’tdoit.IthoughtIcould,butIcan’t,soI’mjustgoingtogonow.”
“What?”Hegripstightertomyarm.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“This,”Isay,shovingawayfromhim.“Don’ttouchme.Itoldyoubefore…don’tevertouchmeagain.”
“Whatthefuck?Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?”
“I’msorry.”
Ifindpartofmemeansthosewords.GodknowsIprobablyshouldn’t.Ishouldn’tbesorryaboutanything,especiallyifheisworkingforKassian,andthisDVDinmypocketiscertainlysuggestingthatmightreallybewhat’shappening.
Butstill…I’msorry.
I’msorryforwhateverledustothismoment.
Iusedtobelieveinhim,andthesorrypartofmestillthinkspartofhimmightbegood
Butitiswhatitis,andIcan’tstickaroundhere,soIshoveoutofthelockerroomtogetawayfromtheprecinct…fast.I’vegotprobablyaboutaminutebeforeGabefiguresoutwhatI’mupto.
Idon’thavetimetowaitontheelevator,soIheadforthestairs,scalingthemasfastasmylegswillcarrymedowntothefirstfloorofthebuilding.
Ialmostmakeitout,amalreadypastthedeskofficer,whenGabe’sfranticvoiceringsoutfromthestairwell.“Stopher!”
Shit
Irun,shovingpastpeople.Icanhearothersfollowing,shoutingformetostop,butIkeepgoing,outoftheprecinctanddowntheblock,awayfromthesubway,runningintothefirstalleyIcomeacross.
They’rerightonmyheels.
ShitShit
Lookingaround,frantic,mymindworksfast.Icouldhide,butthey’dfindme.Icouldrun,butthey’dcatchup.Mygazeshiftstowardthenearbydumpster.Ugh.Heartracing,IyanktheDVDoutandflingitbeneaththedumpster,turningawayfromitjustassomebodyroundsthecorner.
ShitShitShit
Officersappear,myhandsareintheair,andIdon’tknowwhat’shappening,butgunsareinmyfaceoutofnowhere.
Guns
Okay,it’snotthefirsttimesomeonehasaimedagunatme,andbeingasmylifehasgonetohell,I’mguessingitprobablywon’tbethelasttime,either.Butrightnowtherearethreeofthem,andthey’rekindoflookingliketheymightwanttoshoot.
Gabeshovespastthem,intothealley,andcomesrightforme,breathingheavily,hisfacebrightred.Oh,man,he’spissed.Instinctively,Itakeastepback,myhandsfaltering,untiltheofficersstartshouting,“Don’tyoufuckingmove!”
“Okay,okay!”Ifreeze.“Geez,relax.”
Gabegrabsaholdofme,roughingmeupashepatsmedown,searchingplaceshishandsoughtnotgo,beforeheshovesmeagainstthesideofanearbybuilding,slammingmyfaceintothebrickssohardmyvisionblurs.
“Geez,detective.”Icringeasheyanksmyarmbehindmyback,standingflushagainstmybody,pinningmethere.“I’mprettysurethisbreaksprotocol.”
“Whereisit?”heasks,hisfreehandstillsearching.“Where’dyouputit,Morgan?”
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
“Don’tplaystupidwithme,”hegrowls.“Iswear,ifyoudon’tgiveittomerightnow—”
“You’llwhat?”Iask,cuttinghimoff.“You’llfuckmerighthere,inthealley,infrontoftheseofficers?Teachmealesson?Showtheworldwhatabig,powerfulmanyouare?”
“No,”hewhispers,hismouthnearmyear.“I’llcallAristovsohecancomepickhislittlerunawayup…justlikeIdidwithyourdaughterwhenshefoundherwaytomyofficelastmonth.”
Thosewordsknockthebreathfrommylungs.
Ormaybeit’sthefactthatheshovesmeharderagainstthebuilding.
Inearlyblackout.
“Youwouldn’t,”Isay.“Tellmeyoudidn’t…”
“Oh,butIdid,”hesays.“Sheranawayfromhim,cryingabouthowshewantedhermommy.Youmissedherbyabouttenminutesthatmorning.Pity,really,sincethat’sprobablytheclosestyou’llevergettoheragain,youdumbbitch.”
Somethinginmesnapswhenhesaysthat,mylastshredofcivilitytowardthismangone.
I’mnotsorryanymore.
Ishoveoffofthewall,throwingmyheadback,slamminghimrightinthefuckingnosewiththebackofmyskull.
BAM.
Heloosenshisgriponme,grunting,caughtoffguardbytheblow,andItwistmyownarm,damnnearyankingitoutofsockettogetawayfromhim.Hepullshimselfbacktogether,butnotfastenough,becauseIraisemyfootupandkickhimrightinthenuts.
BAM.
Hehunchesover,lettingoutonehellofascreech,asIshovehimoutofmyway,barelymakingitthreestepsbeforerealityslamsintome.
Guns,remember?
Oh,fuckme
Iputmyhandsupagain,surrendering,butit’stoolatetogopeacefully.Someonetacklesme,throwingmeface-firsttothealley,kneesinmybackashandcuffssecuremywrists.Mycheekstings,asphaltscrapingtheskinonmyface,gunsstillaimedatmeasmenshoutordersIcan’tpossiblycomplywithsinceI’mpinnedtotheground.
I’myankedtomyfeetafteramomentandcomeface-to-facewithGabe.Bloodpoursfromhisnose,hisfacecontortedwithamixofangerandpain,buthedoesn’tfeelevenanounceofthehurtIfeel.
Fuckhim
“Bookher,”hesays,staringmedeadinthefaceashetriestostopthebleeding.“Assaultonapoliceofficer.”
***
Thearrestprocessisbullshit
IanswerwhatIhaveto,butIhavetherighttoremainsilent,soscrewtherestoftheirquestions.
I’mnotinthemoodtotalk.
TheytransfermetoCentralBookinginanotherpartoftheborough,whereI’mmovedfromcelltocell,fromplacetoplace,inapiss-scentedbuildingfilledwithalotofnosey-asspeople.
Hours.
Somanyhours
Signspostedeverywhereguaranteetheprocesswillbeoverwithintwenty-fourhours,butasIsurpasshourtwenty-three,Istarttothinkthesignsarelyingtome.
Finally…fuckingfinally…I’mallowedtomakeacall,draggedtoaroombyadisgruntledofficerandshovedinfrontofaphone.
Mychargedoesn’tseemtoelicitfriendlinessfromtheirkind,that’sforsure.
“Yougetthreecalls,”theofficersays,glaringatme.“Makethemquick.”
There’sreallyonlyonenumberIcanthinktocall.
Idialitonce.Noanswer
Idialittwice.Noanswer
SoItryforathirdtime,thinkingI’moutofluck.Eitherit’scomingupblockedonhiscallerID,orherecognizesthenumberanddoesn’tacceptjailhousecalls.Itringsandringsandrings,andIfrown,abouttogiveupwhenthelineclicksandhisvoicecutson,annoyanceineverysyllable.“Gambi—”
“Don’ttalk,”Isay,cuttinghimoff.“I’mbeingrecorded.There’sabigsignrightabovethephonethatsaysso.SoIwouldn’thavecalled,butIkindofneededto,okay?”
Hesaysnothing,butIknowhe’slistening.
Orwell,hehasn’thungupyet,soIknowhe’sstillthere—pretendingtolisten,atleast.
“Iwentonsabbaticaltomyfavoriteprecinctandgotarrestedinthealleynearit.I’mgoingtobearraignedtomorrowsometime.Butreally,that’sbesidethepoint.Ijust…”Shit,howdoIsaythiswithoutgivingupthegoods?“RememberthetimeatmyapartmentwherewewentfallingofftheroofofthebuildingandIplayedabitofHide&Seek?Myhidingspotwassogoodtheydidn’tfindme,butyoudid…youfoundmeeasily.Iwashopingtoplayagain,youknow,ifyouwanttogodosomeseeking,samebasicspotthistime.”
He’sstillquiet.
Idon’tknowifheunderstands.
Idon’tknowifI’mmakingsense.
ButIcan’tjustsay‘lookatthefuckingdumpsterbesidetheprecinct’becausewhoknowswhoelseislisteningandmightgolookthemselves?
“Igotyou,”hesaysafteramoment,hisvoicelow.
“Yougotme?”
“Igotyou.”
Hehangsupwithoutanotherword.
Idon’tknowifhe’sgotme,really,butI’mhopinglikehellhedoes.Hangingup,Ilookattheofficer,whowatchesmecuriously,likeI’mspeakinginriddlesandhe’stryingtocrackthecode.
“So,anyideawhenI’mgettingoutofhere?”Iask,motioningtooneofthose‘twenty-fourhours’posters.“Prettysuretime’sup.”
“Time’supwhenwesayit’sup,”hesays.“Wecanholdyourasshereforaslongaswewant…especiallyifwemisplaceyourpaperwork.”
“Ah,soyou’reoneofthose…”
Hiseyesnarrow.“Oneofwhat?”
“Thosebigguysthatgetoffonpickingonwomen.What,yourmommydidn’tloveyouenough,soyou’vegottatakeitoutonus?”
Helookslikehewantstopunchme,butbeingastherearecameraseverywhere,hecan’t.Instead,heroughlygrabsmyarmanddragsmebacktoaholdingcell,whispering,“youshouldprobablygetcomfortable,”beforeshovingmein.
Morehours.
Somanymorehours.
Idozeoff,lyingonthefilthyconcretefloor,butitdoesn’tbothermemuch,consideringIusedtoliveonthestreets.DoyouknowhowmanynightsIsleptonthecoldgroundwhenIwasfourteen?
Pfftt,that’snothing
DoyouknowhowmanydaysIsurvivedchainedupinabasement?
I’meventuallywoken,takentoyetanothercell.Timepasses,almostanotherentireday,beforesomeoneshoutsmyname.“MorganMyers!”
“Showtime,”Imutter,staggeringofftoalittleroom,whereIseeabaldguybehindplexiglasswithafileonme.Publicdefender
“They’reofferingadeal:pleadguiltytomisdemeanordisturbingthepeaceandyouwalkrightoutofhereafreewoman,therestofthechargesdropped.”
“Wait,what?Whatothercharges?”
Themanrattlesoffawholehostofoffenses,likethey’retryingtonailmeforeveryteeny-tinyinfractiontheycouldpossiblythinkof.
“Okay,wait…sowhatifIdon’twantthosechargesdropped?”
HelooksatmelikeI’mcrazy.“You’llprobablyendupinRikersforyears.”
Ugh,don’twantthat,either,butI’mnotsurejustwalkingoutofhereissomethingthat’spossible.I’vebeenstationaryfortoolongundermyrealname,whichmeansKassianhashadforty-eighthourstosniffoutmyverypubliclocation.
AndmysuspicionisconfirmedafewminuteslaterwhenI’musheredintothecourtroomandseehim.
Him
Icometoahalt.
Myfeetwon’tmoveanymore,cementingrightintothefloor.Shit.Kassianstandsinthebackcorner,dressedimpeccablyinadarksuit.I’veheardhisvoice,andI’vebreathedhissameair,butthisisthefirsttime,insomanymonths,thatthetwoofushavecomeface-to-face.ThefirsttimeI’velookedathimthesametimehewaslookingatme,oureyesmeetingfornomorethanafewseconds,butitfeelslikeaneternity.
I’mpulledaway,forcedtokeepgoing,andavertmygazeasI’mleadtothefrontofthecourtroom.
TheDistrictAttorneyandthejudgeexchangewords,butI’mnotpayingthemmuchattention.Ikeepglancingovermyshoulder,towardthebackcorner.Ican’thelpmyself.
Kassianisn’tsmiling.Heisn’tlaughing.
Hejuststaresatme,hisexpressionablankmask.
“MissMyers?”
Iturntothejudgewhenhecallsmyname.“Yes?”
“Youneedtopleadonthechargeofdisorderlyconduct.”
“Oh.”Ihesitate.“Guilty.”
Hesayssomethingelse.Idon’tknow.Myearsfeelclogged,everythingfoggyasmyheartcrazilypounds.Iglancebehindmeagain,stallingthistimewhenIfindbackcornerempty.
Kassianisgone.
ThejudgeisstilltalkingbutallIkeepthinkingisKassianisheresomewhere,lurkingintheshadows,waitingtopounce.
“MissMyersisherebyorderedtobeheldforpick-upbytheseventeenthprecinct…”
Whoa
Ilookatthejudge,confused,beforeturningtothepublicdefender.“What?”
“Youhaveanoutstandingwarrant,”hesays.
Thatonlyconfusesmemore.“Awarrant?Forwhat?”
Heshrugs.
Themanshrugs
Likehedoesn’tgiveashitatall.
Iraisemyhand,tryingtogetthejudge’sattentionbeforehecanbanghisgavel.
“Putyourhanddown,”thepublicdefenderhisses.“He’llholdyouincontemptifyoudisrupthisproceedings.”
Iignorethat,becausereally,atleastthosechargeswouldmakesense.TheseventeenthprecinctisinMidtown,Manhattan.There’snoreasonformetohavechargesthere.
“Excuseme?”Icallout.“Yourhonor?”
Thejudgelooksatme.
Man,helookslikehe’dliketosmackmewiththegavel,butinsteadhesays,“Yes,MissMyers?”
“Awarrant?”Iask.“Whatkindofwarrant?”
“Conspiracy,”heanswers.
That’sit.
Conspiracy
“Whatkindofconspiracy?”Iask,butitdoesn’tmatter,becausethemanbangshisgavelandI’mdraggedaway.
Hauledbacktoanotherholdingcelltowaitagain.
Backtobeingwatchedbythedisgruntledofficer,whopersonallyseemstobemonitoringme,afactthatisn’treallysurprising.
He’sprobablyonsomebody’spayroll.
Ahundredbuckssaysit’sKassian’s.
“So,anychanceyouknowwhata‘conspiracy’chargeis?”Iaskhim.
“Itmeansyouconspiredtodosomething.”
“Well…noshit.Butwhat?”
Heshrugs.
Anothershrugger.
Awesome
It’sonlyanhourthistimebeforesomeonecomesforme,twomeninplainclothes,onlytheirbadgesgivingthemawayasofficers.Big,andbuilt,therough-and-tumbletypes.Theofficerthathadbeenwatchingmestepsback,lettingoutalowwhistle.“Theviolentfelonysquad,huh?Mustbeadoozy.”
Mystomachisinknotsasasinkingfeelingconsumesme.Noneofthiseverfeltright,butthiswithoutadoubtiswrong.Theseguyshuntdownthebloodthirstymurderers.I’veneverevenfiredagun.
Although,okay,Iprobablywould,ifIhadone.
ButIdon’t,soIhaven’t.
Whichmeansthere’snoreasonforthemtocomeforme
I’mhandcuffedandshackled,likeahardenedcriminal,beforebeingledoutofthebackofthebuilding,whereinmatesareloadeduptobetakenovertoRikers.Anolderwhitemaninagraysuitlingersinthedarkness,casualascanbe,waitingbesideanunmarkedCrownVic,ablackSUVparkedrightbehinditatanangle,blockingmyviewoftheexitoftheundergroundgarage.
Themaninthesuitopensthebackdoorofthecar,andI’mimmediatelyshovedintoit,thedoorslammed.It’slikealittleprison,acageseparatingmefromthefront,thewindowsallobscured.
“We’llfollow,justincase,”oneoftheplainclothessays.“Anyproblems,radious.”
“YouknowIwill,”themaninthesuitsays.
Themanclimbsbehindthewheelandpullsoutofthegarage,notsayingawordtomeatall.It’snighttime,wellpastsunset,maybeevenpushingmidnight.It’shardtotell.Ilookaround,glancingbehindme,seeingtheSUVis,infact,following.
“Isallofthisreallynecessary?”Iask,myshacklesjinglingasIturnbacktothemaninthesuit,glaringathimthroughthebarsofthecage.
Heglancesintherearviewmirror.“Youbrokeadetective’snosetwodaysago,didyounot?”
“Hisnoseisbroken?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.”I’mpleasantlysurprised.“Well,Imean,inmydefense,hedeservedit…offrecord,ofcourse.Youcan’tdoublejeopardythat,right?Wait,shit,that’snottheConspiracycharge,isit?Isthislikesomespecialprosecutorthing,makinganexampleoutofmeforassaultingyourprizeddetective?”
Themanlaughs.“Ihavenointerestinseeingyouprosecuted.”
Thosewordsrubmewrong.“What,exactly,areyouinterestedindoing?”
“Justdeliveringyouwhereyouneedtogo.”
Myheartracessohardmycheststartstohurt.Ilookoutthewindowsattheneighborhoodaroundus,butit’shardtoseemuchofanything.Iknowwe’renotinthecity,though.Wehaven’tcrossedabridge,butweshould’vebynow,Ithink,sowe’restilldeepinBrooklyn.
“Oh,fuckme,”Imutter,leaningforward,smackingmyheadagainstthecage.He’sdeliveringmesomewhere,butitsureashelldoesn’tseemtobeMidtownforawarrant.
“Whatdidyousay?”themaninthesuitasks.
Ilookup,meetinghiseyesintherearviewmirror.“Youknowhe’saterribleperson,right?”
Hisbrowfurrows.“Who?”
“Theassholeyou’retakingmeto.”
Alookofsurprisepassesacrosshisface.“Howdoyouknow—?”
“Oh,givemeabreak,”Isay,cuttinghimoff.“Contrarytopopularbelief,I’mnotstupid.Givemesomecredithere,officer.”
“Detective,”hecorrectsme.
“Detective.Ofcourse.Well,detective,you’renottheonlyonethatcandetectshit,youknow,andI’mdetectingthislittlefieldtripwe’retakingisn’ttotheseventeenthprecinctforaConspiracywarrant.”
“You’dbecorrect,”hesays.
“Soyou’regoingtotakemetohiminstead,huh?Howmuchishepayingyou?Whateveritis,I’lldoubleit.Tripleit.Justletmeoutrighthereandthemoneyisyours.”
“Nicetry,butno.”
“Why?”
“Becausehe’llkillmeifIdon’tcomethrough.”
“Yeah,well,he’llkillmeifyoudo.”
Helaughsatthat.Laughs.“He’snotgoingtokillyou…or,well,Idon’tthinkso.Ihopenot.Hesaidhewouldn’t,anyway.ItoldhimIwasn’tgettinginvolvedifthiswasleadingtoamurder.”
Isigh,exasperated,asIleanbackintheseat,tryingtowiggleoutofthehandcuffsbutthey’retootight,cuttingintomywrists.
TheSUVisstillrightbehindus,ridingourbumper.
There’sacracklingthen,thesoundofaradio,butnotthepoliceradio,no…afuckingWalkie-Talkie.
They’retalkingofftheairwaves.Ofcourse
“We’vehadacartailingusforafewminutes,”avoicecutsin.“Couldbeacoincidence,butwe’regoingtodoublebackandrunatrafficstop,tobesafe.”
“10-4,”thedetectivesays.“We’realmostthere.Meetatthespot.”
Almostthere
ThatmeansI’mrunningoutoftime.Ineedtofigureoutsomethingfast.TheSUVbacksoff,andIcanseelightsflashing,butbeforeIcangetagoodlookatwhat’shappening,wemakeasharpturn.
Thenanother.
Andanother.
Afewturnslaterandwe’rewhippingintoanoldparkinggarage.Wefollowthearrows,goingroundandroundandround,makingourwaytotheverytop.TheunmarkedCrownVicpullsontotheroof,thecarsgrowingscarcerwitheachlevelwenavigate.Therearenoneuphereatall.Thecarcreepsalongtheemptyspaces,comingtoastopsomewherealongtheedgeofthespacewheretherearenolights.
I’mguessingnocameras,either.
Nowitnesses.
Asthedetectiveputsthecarinpark,athoughtpassesthroughmymind,somethingIcouldn’tbringmyselftoentertainuntilthatmoment.
Sicknessswellsupinsideofme.
Alumpformsinmythroat.
HesaidhewasdeliveringmewhereI’mmeanttobe,butwhatifwhereI’mmeanttobeis…dead?
BeforeIcanevenwrapmyheadaroundthatpossibility,lightsflashontotheroof,carsapproaching.Cars,plural.IspottheSUVbuttheothersareablur.Twomore,Ithink.Ican’treallytell.Myvisionisblurringandit’stoodamndark.
Thedetectivegetsout,nohesitation,andopensupthebackdoor,reachinghishandin.Ipullaway,shiftingalongtheseat.“Don’tfuckingtouchme.”
Iheardoorsslamnearby,footstepsapproaching.Sighing,thedetectivereachesfurtherin,snatchingaholdofmyarmanddraggingmeout.Panicbubblesupinsideofme.He’srightthere,inthedoorway.I’vegotlittlerangeofmovement,butmorerightnowthanIwillhaveinafewseconds.
Fuckthis.
Nowornever
Lyingback,Imovequickly.Assoonasthemanreachesformeagain,tryingtoforcemefromthebackseatofthecar,Ithrustmylegsout,myfeetslammingagainsthim.
BAM.
Hestaggersbackward,gasping,wide-eyedasheclutcheshischest.
Iknockedtheairrightoutofhislungs.
Irockmyselfoutofthecar,springingtomyfeet.Shadowsmovearoundme.Ican’tescapethem,notwhileshackled,butI’llbedamnedifI’mgoingdownwithoutfighting.
Beforethedetectivecancatchhisbreath,Itacklehim,knockinghimontohisbackontheparkingdeck.Ilandontopofhimwithagrunt,andhetriestoshovemeaway,triestoshovemeoff,butI’mnotgivingup.
Ican’tpunch,can’tkick,buthell,Icanhead-butt,soIslammyforeheadrightintohisface.BAM.AllthatextrasecurityhebroughtandI’llstillbreakhisfuckingnoselikeIdidGabe’s.Thedetectivescreams,andmyvisionblurs,thepainechoingthroughme,soIknowhehastohurt.
“Jesus,fuck!”avoicecallsoutasarmswraparoundme,tearingmeoffofhim.“Itoldtheguynobodywoulddietonight,sodon’tkillhim.”
ThatvoicerushesthroughmeasI’msetonmyfeet.I’mdizzy,butImanagetoshoveawayfromthosearmstoturnaround,tolookathim.
Lorenzo
“Seriously?”Iyell,staringathimwithdisbeliefashestandsinfrontofme.“Thiswasyou?”
“Yes,”hesays,grabbingthedetective’shandtohelphimup.“Why?Whodidyouthinkitwas?”
Ijustgapeathim.
“Someassholewhowantstokillher,”thedetectivemutters,coveringhisfacewithhishands.“Atleast,that’swhatshesaid.”
Lorenzo’seyeswidenbeforeheletsoutalaugh.Alaugh.He’slaughing.Whatthefuck?
“Thisisn’tfunny!”Igrowl,lungingathim,slammingintohim,shovinghimback,nearlyknockinghimdown.
Hisguys,allpresent,comerightatus,likeit’saninstinctivereactiontoprotecttheboss,butLorenzostopsthemwitharaisedhand,hisothergrabbingmyhip.“Whoa,standdown,fellas.We’restillallfriendshere.Scarlet’sjustalittleupset.Nobiggie.”
Hestaresatme,hishandstilltouchingme,hisfaceinchesfrommine.Ikindofwanttobreakhisnose,too,whileI’matit,becauseoftheamusedtwinkleinhiseyes.
ButIcan’tdenythereliefthatrushesthroughmeattherealizationthatIprobablywon’tbethrownoffthisrooftonight,therealizationthatsomeonejumpedthroughhoopstogettheirhandsonmebutthatsomeonewasn’tKassian.
Lorenzosavedmyass.Again
“It’sstillnotfunny,”Isay.“Ithoughtheseriouslyhadme.”
“Igotyou,”Lorenzosays.“HowmanytimesdoIhavetotellyouthatbeforeyoubelieveit?”
“Probablyafewmoretimes.”
“AndIthoughtItoldyoutostayoutoftrouble,”hesays,scoldingme.“Ievenaskednicely.”
“Yeah,well,thetroublewithtroubleisthatitdoesn’talwayslookliketrouble,Lorenzo.”
“Thiswasveryobviouslytrouble,woman.”
Woman.Heflingsthatwordatmelikeit’satermofendearment.“Can’thelpmyself,Iguess.”
Hereachesout,pushingthehairfrommyface,brushingthebackofhishandalongmytendercheek.Hedoesn’tlookangry.Hedoesn’tevenreallylookamusedanymore.No,helooksconcerned.“Youlooklikehell.”
“Ifeelit.”
Hishanddriftsdowntomyneck,hisfingertipsstrokingaspotthere.“Tellmewhathappened.”
“Canyou,uh…Idon’tknow…uncuffmefirst?Removetheshackles,too,maybe?”
Lorenzopullshishandaway,motioningforsomeonetohelpme.Oneoftheofficersinplainclothespullsoutasetofkeysandremovesmyrestraints.Iflexmywrists,rubbingthem,relievedtobefree.Thedetectivecastsmeacautiouslookashemovestoleanagainsthiscar.
He’sstillbreathingkindoffunny.
“Isheokay?”Iask,worriedhemightbehavingaheartattackorsomething
“Youokay,Jameson?”Lorenzocallsout.
“Fine,”thedetectivemutters.
“He’sfine,”Lorenzosays.“Nowtellmewhathappened.”
Ugh,Idon’twantto,butIknowIneedtotellhim,soIjustspillthewholeshebang,startingwithgoingtoConeyIslandandfalteringwhenIrecounttheconfrontationinthealley.
Lorenzoabsorbseveryword,waitinguntilIgrowquietbeforehesays,“I’mgoingtokillhim.”
Matteroffact.Justlikethat.
I’mgoingtokillhim
Thedetectivegroans.“Really,Gambini?IwishIhadn’theardthat.”
“Why?Yougonnaarrestmeforit?”
“No,butnowI’vegottapretendyouneversaidit.”
Lorenzolaughs,turningtotheofficers,thankingthemfortheirassistance,tellingthemtogetonoutofthere.Hetwirlshispointerfingeraroundinthedetective’sfacewhentheguypushesawayfromthesideofthecartoclimbinit.“Sendmeabillforthenose,Jameson.”
“YouknowIwill,”thedetectivesays.Oops
TheCrownVicdrivesoff,followedbytheSUV,leavingmeherewithjustLorenzoandhisguys,whoseemtobewatchingmewarilyforsomereason.EvenSevenismoretensethanusual,offtotheside,sortofbehindLorenzo.Standoffish
I’mnotsurewhattomakeofit.
“Seven,IneedyoutofindDetectiveFuckface,”Lorenzosays.“Iwanthisaddress.Iwanthismother’saddress.”
“Yes,boss,”Sevensays.
“Therestofyou…IwantyouonAristov.Iwanttoknowwherehegoes,whathedoes,andwhohetalksto.Iknowwherehelives,andIknowwhereheworks,butIwanttoknoweverythingelsethemandoes.Yougotme?”
Theymurmurinagreement.
“Good,getoutofhere,”Lorenzosays.“Reportbackwhenyou’vegotsomething.”
Theguysdispersewithoutanotherword,pilingintothecarsandleavingushereallalone,upontheroofoftheparkinggaragewithnocar.
Lorenzoreachesintohisbackpocketoncethey’regone,pullingsomethingoutandholdingitup.
TheDVDItossedunderthedumpster,Aristovwrittenonitinfadedblackmarker.
“Youfoundit?”
“Idid,”hesays.“Tookmeaminutetoriddleoutwhatyouwerebabblingabout,butIputthepiecestogetherandthereitwas.”
“Iwonderwhat’sonit,”Isay,reachingfortheDVD,butLorenzopullsitbackfrommygraspbeforeIcangetmyhandsonit.
“Somethingyoudon’twanttosee.”
Mystomachsinks.“You’velooked?”
Henodsonce.
“Whatisit?”Iask.“Tellme.”
Lorenzosaysnothingforamoment,juststaringatme,beforecarefullyholdingtheDVDoutsoIcantakeitthistime.
“Watchit,ifyoufeeltheneed,”hesays,hisvoicequiet.“Justdon’tsayIdidn’twarnyou,Scarlet.”ChapterSix
I’vealwayspreferredgettinglostinsilence,butpeople,I’vefound,liketoheartheirownvoices.Blahblahblah,justspewingbullshit;doesn’tmatterwhatitis,sincenobodyhearsit.
Yousee,peopledon’treallylistenanymore,no…theyjustsitaroundwaitingforeveryoneelsetoshutup,waitinguntilit’sfinallytheirturntotalk.Backandforth,anendlesscyclethatgetsusnowhere,becausenobodyreallygivesashitaboutwhat’sbeingsaid.
Silence,though…silencespeaksinwaysthatwordsjustcan’t.
We’vebeeninmylibraryforwelloveranhournow,justmeandScarlet,theroomcastinlightfromtheglowofthelamp.Nosound,unlessyoucountthesoftwhirlingfanfromthelaptopinScarlet’slap,onesheborrowedfromMelody.
Whitenoise
Thesilencespeaksvolumes.
Iwarnedher.Itoldhershedidn’twanttosee,butagainstmyadvice,shepoppedthediscintothedriveandlookedatthelittlehomemovie.
Afuckinghorrorflick,really.
AyoungScarlet—maybesixteenorso—beingtormentedbytheRussians,thementakingturnsbrutalizingher.Ababycriesinthebackground,screamingbloodymurder,butScarletdoesn’tmakeasound.
No,she’sfadedout.Gone
Icouldbarelysitthroughaminuteofit.Itturnedmyfuckingstomach,andthat’ssayingsomething,becauseI’vewatchedmenbeslaughteredbeforewithoutflinching.
Whatdoyousaytothat?It’llbeokay?Chinup,buttercup,atleastyou’realive?Fuckthat.Wordsdon’tmeanshit,theywon’terasewhat’sonthatDVD,soIjuststandhere,workingonmypuzzle,pouringmyselfintoit.
“Boss?”
Ilooktothedoorway.Sevenstandsthere,clutchingmyphone,wavingittowardme.
“Theguysareontheirwayover,”hesays.“Justwantedtogiveyouthehead’sup.”
“Iappreciateit,”Isay,lookingbackaway.“Anyluckonthataddressyet?”
“Stillworkingonit,”hesays.
Inod,pickingupapuzzlepiece,tryingitafewmoreplaces.SilenceagaintakesovertheroomwhenSevenwalksaway.
“Didtheywatchit?”Scarlet’swordsarequietasshebreakshersilence.“Theguys…didtheysee?”
Isnapapieceintoplacebeforegrabbinganother.“Ididn’tletthemwatchit.IstoppeditwhenIrealizedwhatitwas.”
“Buttheysaw.”
“Theysaw.”
She’squietforanothermomentbeforeasking,“Didyouwatchit?”
“Ididn’tpopsomefuckingpopcornandmakeanightofit,ifthat’swhatyou’reasking.Isawenoughtoknowthatit’snotsomethingIcaretoeverwatchhappentoyou.”
“Thankyou,”shewhispers.
Iturn,lookingatherwithdisbelief.Shesoundsgenuinelygrateful,sure,butthere’ssomethingelseinhertone,adejectednote.Idon’tlikeit.That’snotthewomanI’vecometoknow.
“You’rethankingme,”Ipointout,“fornotmakingamovienightoutofyourborderlinesnufffilm.Yourealizethat,right?You’rethankingmefornotgettingoffwatchingyoubefuckingviolated.”
“I’mthankingyouforbeingadecenthumanbeing.”
“Iwouldn’tgothatfar,Scarlet.”
“Iwould,”shesays.“Thinkwhatyouwantaboutyourself,Lorenzo,butthere’sdecencyinyou.”
Iscoff,turningbacktomypuzzle.“Ioughttoshootyouforsayingthatshit.”
“Butyouwon’t.”
“Iwon’t,”Iagree,“becauseIassuredJamesontonightwouldn’tleadtomurder.”
“Howdecentofyou.”
Shakingmyhead,Itrymypuzzlepieceinafewplaces,forcingitwhereitdoesn’tbelong,nearlyrippinghalfthepuzzleapartasIyankitbackoff.Frustrated,Ithrowitdown,watchingasitbouncesontothefloor,andrunmyhandsdownmyface,pullingmyglassesoffandtossingthemontothetable,too.“Ilikeyoumorewhenyoudon’ttalk.”
Shelaughs.“Ibetyousaythattoallthegirls.”
“Ido,”Isay,turningtowardherasIlacemyhandstogetherontopofmyhead,surprisedshecanbelaughingrightnow,withthenightshe’shad.“ButmostofthemIdon’tevenlikewhenthey’requiet.You,Icantolerate.”
“Youcantolerateme.”
“Yes.”
“Well,fortherecord,Icantolerateyou,too,Lorenzo,”shesays,staringatthelaptopscreen.“MostguysIknowwould’vewatchedit.”
“I’vetoldyoubefore…yousurroundyourselfwiththewrongpeople.”
“Yeah,I’mtryingtogetbetteraboutthat,”shesays.“IthinkImight’vefoundafewdecentones.”
Iglareatherbutdon’trespond,hearingnoiseechothroughthehouseasothersarrive.Iwalkoutofthelibrary,leavingScarlettowhatevershe’sdoing,andmeettheguysinthelivingroom.They’reriledup.That’swhatIlikemostaboutthem,whythey’vesurvivedsolonginmycompany…they’rejustasfuckedupasme.Money,sure,theyloveit,theywantit,buttheexcitementandadrenalineispriceless.They’dtakethechanceofathrilloverthepromiseofadollarinaheartbeat.
Well,withtheexceptionofSeven,maybe.He’sgotawifeandkids,remember?He’smuchmorecautiousthantheothers.
“Gentlemen,”Isay,greetingthemastheysettleinandsecurebottlesofrum,noticingrightawaythatsomebodyismissing.“Where’sThree?”
“Ranofftoseesomewoman,”Fivesays.“Saidhehadtotakecareofsomethingquick.”
“Yeah,hisdick,”Foursayswithalaugh.
Shakingmyhead,Isitdownonthecouchandturnonsomemusicbeforeretrievingajointfromthetininmypocket.Ilightit,inhalingdeeply,holdingitinmylungs,beforepassingitovertoFiveashesitsdownbesideme.
“Alwayslettingpussygetthebestofhim,”Isay.“Willheeverlearn?”
“Notlikely,”Fivesays,takingahitofthejointbeforepassingitback.“Ifgettingchainedupinabasementwasn’tenoughtostophimfromfuckingaroundwiththosewomen,nothingshortofabullettothebrainisgoingtoteachhimthatlesson.”
Ilaughdryly,takingadeepdrag,exhalingslowlyasIsay,“Icouldarrangethat.”
Fivecastsmealook.HeknowsI’mdeadserious,buthelaughs,regardless.“Youcould.”
Sevenslidesintoachairnearbyandclearshisthroat.“Loveisblinding.”
“Loveisblinding,”Isay,repeatinghissappyassproverbshit.“Andwhat,Threelovespussy,soitexcuseshisbehavior?”
“Doesn’texcuseit,justexplainsit,”Sevensays.“Declan’sasuckerforawomaninstilettos.Hedoesn’tthinkstraightwherethey’reconcerned.We’reallknockedoff-kiltereventually,andusuallywhatdoesitisawoman.That’showIendedupmarriedsolongago.Love,itmakesusforgetourselvessometimes.”
“I’llfuckingdrinktothat,”Foursays,raisingupabottleofrum.
“Goddamnwomen,”Fivesays,raisinghisownbottle.“They’recyanidetothesenses.”
Shakingmyhead,Ilookaroundattheseidiotstoasting,mygazestallingatthedoorway,seeingScarletlurking.
“Howaboutyou,Scarlet?”Iaskastheguystakesips,clinkingtheirbottlestogether.“Yougonnadrinktopussy-blindness,too?”
Shepushesawayfromthedoorframe,strollingintotheroom.“Loveisaterribleexcuse.It’sdangeroustoloseyourselfinsomeoneelse.”
“Ah,thatI’lldrinkto,”Isayassheslidesinfrontofme,sittingdownonthecoffeetable,herkneestouchingmine.Fivesmacksmyarmatthosewords,passingmeabottleofrum,andItakeaswigbeforeofferingittoScarlet.
Shestaresatitforasecondbeforesnatchingitfrommyhand,takingabigswallow,enoughtomakehergrimace.
Sheseemsnervous,lookingaroundattheguys…notworriedsomuchasmaybefeelingvulnerable.Iofferherthejoint,whichshehappilytakes,wavingheroffwhenshetriestogiveitback.
“Keepit,”Isay,retrievinganotheronefrommytinandlightingit.“I’vegotmore.”
Ikickmyfeetup,plantingthemoneachsideofheronthecoffeetable,penningherinbetweenmylegs.Theguysarelaughing,jokingaround,bullshitting,actingliketheirusualselves,whichhelpsScarletrelaxabit.
Seemsshethoughtthey’dtreatherdifferently,buttheywon’t.They’renotlikethat.Iwouldn’tlettheminmyhouse,aroundmybrother,ifIthoughttheymightbethebackstabbingvariety.They’dseennomorethanthirtysecondsoftheDVD,andithadgotteneverysingleoneofthemfuriousbeyondwords,tenseandonedgeandreadytokillsomeoneforit.
Itdoesn’ttakelongbeforesmokefillstheroom,myeyesbloodshot,burning,asmymusclestingle.IfeellikeI’mfloating,skyfuckinghigh,asenseofeuphoriasettlingintomychest.
Ifeelnopain.
It’snicenothavingajackhammergoingoffinmyheadforonce.
Doesn’tlastlong,though.
Headlightsflashasacarpullsintothedriveway.Sevengetsuptolook,glancingoutthewindow,saying,“LookslikeDeclan…andawoman.”
Andawoman
Eyesturntome,awaitingmyreaction,butIjustsithere,notdoingadamnthingyet.Threebarrelshiswayonintothehouse,draggingaskinnylittlebrunettealongwithhim,redhighheelsclatteringalongthefloorasshedragsherfeet.Shedoesn’tlookhappytobehere.Quitetheopposite.Hepullsherintothelivingroom,shovingherinfrontofhim.Herterrifiedgazeskittersaround,settlingonScarlet,herdarkeyeswideningwithrecognition.Uh-oh
Scarletavertshergaze,turningherbacktothegirl,staringdownatherhandsasshepicksatthechippedredpolishonherfingernails.
“Fellas,”Threesayscasually,greetingeveryone,hisattentionturningmyway.“Boss.”
Theguysmumbleinresponse.
“Niceofyoutojoinus,”Isay,studyingthewoman.“Iseeyou’vebroughtaguestalong.”
“Yeah,thisis,uh…shit.”Threesnapshisfingers,likehe’stryingtoremember,beforegivingupandnudgingher.“Tellthemwhoyouare.”
“Alexis,”thegirlsays,hervoiceshaking.
“That’sit!SexyLexie…”Threegrins,likehe’sproudofhimselfforrememberingthatnickname.“LexieworksdownatLimerence.Iendedupinabasementbecauseofher.”
“I’msorry,”shesaysrightaway,lookingbackathim.“Itoldyou,I—”
“Youdidn’thaveachoice,”Threesays,cuttingheroff.“Yeah,Iknow,Iheardyou.”
“Ididn’twanttodoit,”shesaysdefensively.“IswearIdidn’t.Ilikeyou,Declan.You’vealwaysbeensonice,butMr.Aristov—”
“Isyourboss,”Threesays,againcuttingheroffbeforehelooksatme,raisinganeyebrow.“Youhearthat?SheworksfortheRussian.”
“Iheard,”Isay.
“Idon’thaveachoice,”shewhispers,eyesturningtome.
“Weknow,”Threesays,puttinghishandonhershoulder.“WhatAristovsaysgoes—noifs,ands,orbutsaboutit,huh?Hetellsyoutofucksomeone,youdoit,noquestion.Getonyourkneesforhim?You’lldothat,too,likeagoodlittlegirl.Hetellsyoutoputsomethinginsomebody’sdrink,todrugthem,andyoudon’thesitate,huh?You’lldowhateverhesays.Hemakestherules.”
ThemoreThreetalks,themorethewomanlookslikeshewantstocollapse…butshe’snottheonlyone.Scarlettenses,andbeforethelastsyllableisevenfromThree’slips,hervoicecutsin.“That’senough.”
Everyonelooksather.
“That’senough,”Scarletsaysagain.“Wegetit.Just…leaveheralone.”
Gazesshifttome,againawaitingmyreaction.Yousee,aroundhere,Imaketherules,andtheydon’tfollowordersunlesstheycomefrommymouth.
“Gettothepoint,”Isay,motioningforThreetocontinue.“I’msureyoumothertaughtyounottoplaywithyourfood.”
Threesqueezesthewoman’sshoulderasheleansclosertoher,saying,“Tellthemwhatyoutoldmeaboutyourboss,Lexie.”
Thewomanopenshermouthbeforeclosingitagain,overandover.
“Justspititout,TweetyBird,”Isay.“TellmewhatthePuddy-Tatdid.”
“Hehasthesepartiesathishousesometimes,himandtheguysthatworkforhim…theygettogetherandsomeofthegirlsarebroughtin,buttheydon’talwayscomebackout.Sometimes…well,sometimes…”
“Sometimesthey’reneverseenagain?”
Shenods,takingamoment,notcontinuinguntilThreenudgesheroncemore.“Afewmonthsago,Iwenttooneofhisparties.Ididn’twantto,butnoneofusreallydo.He’sbeen…different.Colder.Andweknew…weheardhefoundMorgan.”HergazeshiftstoScarlet,hervoicedroppinglower.“Theytoldushefoundyou,thathekilledyou.Weallthoughtyouweredead.”
Scarlet’sbottomliptrembles,butotherwise,shedoesn’treact,stillnotlookingatthewoman.
“Hey,yo,eyesonme,”Isay,snappingmyfinger,gettingthewoman’sattentionagain.“AsmuchasI’mthrilledbystoryhour,IneedyoutogettothepointbeforemyhighwearsoffandIstoplistening.”
“Therewasagirlthere,”sheblurtsout,“alittlegirl.Hisdaughter.Shewasthere.He’sbeenkeepingheroutofsight,sononeofusevenknewshewasaround,butshedrewhimapictureandshewantedtogiveittohim,soshesnuckdownstairs.”
“Yousawher?”
Shenods.
“Shewasokay?”
Shenodsagain.
IglanceatScarlet,wonderinghowshe’stakingthis,butshe’sjustsitting,listeninginsilence,stillpickingatherfingernails.
“Well,Iappreciateyouchirpingforus,Birdie,”Isay,lookingbackatthewomanasIsitup,mylefthandcomingtorestonScarlet’sknee.“Truly.It’sbeenenlightening.Sothankyou.”
“You’rewelcome,”shewhispers.
“Yougotanythingelseyouwanttoshare?”Ireachintomywaistbandandpulloutmygun,cockingitandaimingitather.“Anypartingwords?”
Threejumpsbackafewsteps,movingaway,becauseheknowsmyaimisshitandifhestandstooclose,he’sliabletogetshot.Besides,Ithinkhe’sstilltraumatizedfrombeingsplatteredwithbrainmatterlasttime.Thewomantensesasterrorrushesthroughher.Icanseeit,thehorrorinhereyes,herbodytrembling.Shedoesn’traiseherhands,doesn’tmove,staringstraightatme,butthefloodgatesopen.Tearscoathercheeks,wordsspewingfromherlips.
“Please,don’tdothis,”shecries.“Please…I’mbeggingyou…youdon’thavetodothis!”
“ButIdo,”Isay.“Iletyouwalkoutofhere,yourunbacktoyourboss,andthenwhat?Huh?I’lltellyouwhat—you’llspillyourguts.”
“Iwon’t,”shesays.“Iswear.I’dnever.Morgan…please…Morgan,tellhim.”
Scarletsqueezeshereyesshut.
“Boss,”Threechimesinashetakesastepbacktowardthewoman.Thesecondhedoes,Iaimthegunathiminstead.Atleasthehasthesensetoraisehishands.“Maybeyoudon’thavetodothis…”
“Youbroughthertomyhouse,Three,”Isay.“Youknowbetter.MaybeIshouldbeshootingyouforthis.”
“Butmaybeyoudon’thavetoshootanyone,”hesays.“She’sanin.Wecanusehersomehow.”
“How?”
ThreeblankswhenIaskthat.
Mightbethegunpointedathim.
Hardtothinkwhilethat’shappening.
Tick-tock.Tick-tock.Pressure’son,motherfucker
“Nextmonth,”thewomanblurtsout.“There’sanotherparty.Icango.I’llvolunteer.Icanhelpyou,whateveryouneedmetodo.I’lldoit.Iswear.”
“See?”Threesays.“Problemsolved.”
Problemnotsolved,contrarytowhathethinks.
Hejustmadeitdominointoawholehostofotherproblemsforme.Slowly,though,Ilowerthegun,takingthebulletoutofthechamber,myfingerleavingthetrigger.“Fine.”
Threelowershishands.
“Thisisonyou,though,”Iwarnhim.“Shefucksme,Ifuckyou…andImeanthatineverysenseofthatword,Three.Iwillfuckyouwhilefuckingyou,soyoubetterkeepaneyeonher.”
“Iwill,”hesays.“Don’tworry.”
Islipthegunbackaway,wavinghimoff.“GetheroutofmyhousebeforeIchangemymindandkillyouboth.”
“Yes,boss.”
Hegrabshershoulder,pullingheraway,draggingherbackoutofthehousejustlikehedraggedherin.Grabbingthebottleofliquor,ItakeabigswigbeforeslammingitbackdownonthecoffeetablebesideScarlet.
“Well,thatwassomething,huh?”Fiveasks,shovingtohisfeet.“Weoughttogo,too,makesurehe’snotfuckingusalluptoomuchhere.”
“Yeah,yougodothat,”Isay,scrubbingmyhandsdownmyfacewithfrustration.Pussy-blind.That’sThree,withoutadoubt.He’sgoingtogethimselfkilledoverawoman.“Keepintouch.”
Theguysfilterout,althoughSevenlingers.
“I’mnotsurethisisagoodidea,”Sevensays.“Thiswholething…it’sabigrisk.Areyousurethisiswhatyouwanttodo?”
“AboutassureasIusuallyam,Seven.”
Whichmeansnotsureatall
I’mjustmakingshitupasIgohere.
Nodding,likehe’snotsurprised,Sevenwalksout,leavingScarletandIalone.Myheadisstartingtopoundagain,throbbingbuildingupinmyskullbehindmyeye,coloredsplotchesmarringmyvision.Fuck.Hunchingover,elbowsonmyknees,Ilacemyhandstogetheratthebackofmyneck,closingmyeyesasIlowermyhead.
ThelastthingIneedrightnowisamigraine.
Rightaway,Ifeelsomething,atinglealongmyscalp,ruggedfingernailsscratchingasScarlet’sfingersrunthroughmyhair,sendingachilldownmyspine
Ican’thelpit.
Imoan
“Fuck,thatfeelsgood.”
Scarletlaughslightlyandkeepsondoingwhatshe’sdoing,gentlystrokingmyhair,thesensationdamnnearputtingmetosleep.Voodoo,Iswear…I’llnevernotbelieveit.
Thewoman’stouchiswitchcraft.
It’sasintogivein,butseeingassinningismyspecialty,Iletherdarkmagicconsumeme,becausewhatdoIhavetolose?Myhead?Iwanttochopthefuckingthingoffmostnights,anyway.
I’mjoltedeventually,eyessnappingopen,headdartingupasnoiseechoesthroughthehouse.Ilookup,blurryeyesgoingstraighttomybrotherasheappearsinthedoorwaywithhisgirlfriend.Imust’vedozedoff,maybejustforasecond,becausethesuddenmovementmakesmedizzy.
Ilowermyheadagain,coveringmyfacewithmyhandsaseverythingstartstospin.
“Hey,Morgan,”Leosays.“Haven’tseenyouinafewdays.”
Scarlet’shandgripsmythighassheturnsaround.“Yeah,Iwasabitindisposed.”
“Goodtohaveyouback,”hesays.“Is,uh…isheokay?”
“Uh,yeah…sure.”
“Icananswerformyself,”Igrumble.“I’mrighthere,youknow.”
“I’mwellaware,”Leosays.“Roughnight?”
“Roughlife,”Icounter,lookingupathim,gratefuleverythingstaysstill.“I’llsurvive.”
“I’msureyouwill,”Leosays,frowning,glancingathislittlefirecracker,wholooksextremelynervousrightnowforsomereason.
Isitupstraight.“Whatisit?Spititout.”
Leohesitates.“Wefoundanapartment.”
“Youfoundanapartment.”
“Yes,inManhattan…Midtown.It’skindofsmall,justonebedroom,butit’sgotagreatview.Weputinanapplication.Ithinkwe’vegotagoodshot.”
Hestaresatme,likeheexpectsmetohavemoretosay,butseeingastherearemorethanamillionapartmentsinNewYorkCity,thisisn’texactlyshockingnewsthattheyfoundone,isit?
Anyschmuckwithafewbuckscouldfindanapartmentifhewantedone.
Sighing,Istandup,snatchingupthebottleofrumasImovepastScarlet,strollingoutofthelivingroom.Ipausenearthefoyer,lookingatmylittlebrother…notsolittleanymore,frankly.I’veonlygotabouttwoinchesonhimandmaybetenpounds,butmaturitywise,hesurpassedmelongago,withhisprettyblondegirlfriendandhisbullshitjobandnowhisinky-dinkyapartmentthatprobablyoverlooksTimesSquare.
“Congratulations,”Isay,headingforthestairs.
“Seriously,bro?That’sallyou’regoingtosay?”
“Whatdoyouwantmetosay,PrettyBoy?ThatIhopeyou’renotallergictocockroaches,becauseGodknowswithwhatyoumakeyou’reprobablysplittingthefuckingrentwiththousandsofthem.”
“Ah,yes…”Leothrowshishandsup.“Thereitis.”
“Rats,too.Andfuckingbums.GoodthingFirecrackerhashadpracticewithpeoplelisteningtoyoufuckhereverynight,sothepaper-thinwallsandnoseyneighborswon’tbeaproblem,huh?”
Istartupthestairs,myfootstepsheavy,hearingmybrothermutter,“Iknewyou’dhavesomethingshittytosayaboutit.”
“Ofcourseyoudid.OfcourseIwould,right?NotlikeI’madecentperson.”Ilaughdryly.“Onlyspentthepasttwentyfuckingyearstakingcareofyouafteryourpiece-of-shitparentstriedtoputmeintheground.”
Hesayssomethinginresponse.
Idon’tknow.I’mnotlisteninganymore.
Imakemywaytomybedroom,guzzlingrum,andslamthebottleonthedresserbeforefallingintothebedonmyback.Istareupattheceilingfan,watchingasitgoesroundandround,hopingit’lllullmetosleep,butI’mtenseandwoundtight.
Iwanttokillsomething.
Iwanttofucksomeone.
IwanttofucksomeoneafterIkillsomething.
“Hedoesn’tdeservethat,youknow.”
Scarlet’svoiceismatter-of-fact.She’sstandinginthedoorway.Ididn’thearherfollowme,butI’mnotsurprisedshedid.
“WhatI’mhearinghere,”Isay,“isthatIdodeservethis.”
“That’snotwhatIsaid,”sheargues,steppingintotheroom.“You’reonlypretendingtolistenagain.”
“Iheardyou,Scarlet,loudandclear.”
“Youonlyheardwhatyouwantedtohear,Lorenzo.Youdidn’thearwhatIsaid.”
“I’mreadingbetweenthelines.”
“No,you’retwistingshit,”shesays,sittingdownontheedgeofthebed.“Ihatetobreakthistoyou,andyoumightnotlikeit,butthesundoesn’trisebecauseofyoueverymorning.You’renotthisall-powerfulentitytheworldrevolvesaround.Noteverythinghastodowithyou.Leo,he’sgothopesanddreams,andhedeservestobeabletofollowthemwithoutyoupissingalloverthings.”
“Look,canwenotdothis?”Iask,throwingmyarmovermyfaceasIclosemyeyes,becauseherrunninghermouthisgettinginthewayoftheceilingfandoingwhatit’ssupposedtodo.“Let’sjustskipthepartwhereweargueoverbullshit,likeweactuallygiveafuckabouteachother,becauseI’mnotinthemoodforittonight.”
“You’reanasshole,”shegrumbles,lyingdownbesideme,closeenoughtotouchbutwe’renottouching.Shefeelsmilesawayrightnow,coldnesssettlinginthatspacebetweenus.
“Yeah,well,atleastyouknow…”
“Yeah,andit’sapity,really,becauseIfoundmyselfstartingtogiveafuckaboutyou.”
Shesaysnothingelse.
Idon’tsayanything,either.
Welaythereinsilence.
Foronce,Idon’tpreferit.
Iwanthertosaysomethingelse,anythingelse,justtoerasethosewordsnowassaultingmymind.
Ifoundmyselfstartingtogiveafuckaboutyou
Idon’tlikeit,notatall,becauseasshesaysthosewords,Icometorealize,inthemoment,thatfeelingmightbemutual.
***
“When’sthelasttimeyouslept?”
Thatquestionislikenailsonachalkboard.It’slikeJimCareyinDumb&Dumber.It’slikeaboojielittleblondetalkingaboutherfuckingwardrobe.
Itgratesonmyeverynerve.
Itwitchatthesoundofit.
Sevenstandsbesidemeintheoldwarehouse,eyeingmewithcaution,awaitingananswertohisquestion.It’sapproachingnoon,andwe’veunloadedafewcrates,atruckcominginthismorningwiththegunsforoneofJameson’sconnections.Icouldn’tgetaholdofThree,butFiveshowedupinhisplace,afactthatalsoirritatesme.
“Thismorning,”Itellhim,leavingoutthefactthatitwasn’tformorethananhour.Ihadtoomuchonmymind.“Yougonnaaskmeaboutmyfeelingsnext,doc?Maybeprescribemeatranquilizertokeepthenightmaresatbay?”
“I’mjustlookingoutforyou,”hesays,notatallruffledbymyattitude
“Yeah,well,Idon’tneedmyhandheld,thanks,”Isay,snatchingupacrowbartopopthetopoffofacrate,figuringI’lljustinventoryitallmyself.
IleftScarletathome,inbed,asleep.
Shecouldprobablyusetheextramoney,butIneedsomespacetoclearmyheadsoIcantrytothinkstraightwhenitcomestoallofthis.There’sworktobedone,thingsthatneedhandled,andIcan’tbeworryingaboutthepeoplearoundmewhenIneedtobeconcernedabouttheonesstandinginmyway.
MyphoneringsasIstartsortingthroughtheguns.Ipullitfrommypocket,glancingatthescreen.Three.IhandittoSeven,saying,“DealwiththisbastardbeforeIkillhim.”
Sevennods,takingthephoneandansweringit,sayingeverythingthatneedstobesaid,minusthethreatsI’dbespewingifIhadtodealwithhimdirectly.Helecturesthekidlikehe’shisfuckingfather,whichiskindoffunny,youknow.
That’showSevenacts.Likeafatherfigure.
Likeheknowswhat’sbestforus.
Heusuallydoes.
Sevenhangsupeventually,sighing,stillclutchingmyphone.“Hesaidhisphonewasdead,heforgottochargeitbecausehewaspreoccupieddealingwiththatwoman.”
“Thatsoundsalotlikeanexcusetome.”
“Thatitdoes,”Sevensays.“Heapologized.”
“He’sgottwostrikesalready,”Isay.“Ifitsomuchasevenrainsonme,he’scatchingtheblameandthat’sitforhim.”
“Understandable.”
Igobacktoinventory,poppingopentheothercratesbeforedismissingFive,payinghimforthemanuallabor.I’mnearlyfinishedwithitallwhenringingonceagainshattersthesilence.
“Ifthat’sThreeagain…”
Sevenlooksatmyphone,expressionguardedasheholdsitup.“Brooklynnumber.”
Sonofabitch
“Putitonspeaker,”Iorder,waitingforSeventopressthebuttons,knowingrightawayit’llbenoneotherthanAristov.“Gambini.”
“Ah,MisterScar,Iwashopingyouwouldbeacceptingcallstoday.”
“Foryou,Yogi?Anytime.Nowtellmewhatyouwantsowecanbothgetonwithourdays.”
“IamcuriousifyouarewithMorganrightnow,”hesays,“ifsheisthere,whereveryoumaybe.”
“Youdon’tseriouslythinkI’mgoingtotellyouthat,doyou?”
“Iamhopingso.”
“Well,toughshit,becauseyou’renotgettinganythingfromme.”
Heletsoutadramaticsigh.“Thatisashame.Youcouldhavemadealittlegirlveryhappy,butinstead,youchoosetobreakherheart.”Thephoneshifts,hisvoicedroppinglowerashesays,“Iamsorry,mykitten,butyoucannottalktoyourmommyonherbirthday.”
Thisconnivingsonofabitch
“DoyouthinkI’mstupid?”Iask.“DoyouthinkI’mgoingtofallforthisbullshit?ThatI’llactuallybelieveyouhavethekidrighttherewithyou?”
Thephoneshiftsagain,hisvoicesharpashesays,“Sayhellototheman.”
Ishakemyhead,snatchingalidupandslammingitbackontothelastcrate,thebangechoingthroughthewarehousesoloudthatIalmostmissthesoundofthesoftvoicecomingthroughtheline.“Hello.”
Timefeelslikeitstops.
Iturn,lookinginthedirectionofmyphone.Sevenstillholdsit,wide-eyed,staringatme.Guesshedidn’texpecttoactuallyhearthekid,either.
“Hello,”Isay,havingnoideawhatelsetosay,ifIshouldevensayanything
“IsMommythere?”sheasks,ahopefuledgetoherhigh-pitchedvoicethatIknowI’mabouttocrush.
“No,she’snot,”Isay,“butshemissesyou.”
“Imissher,too,”shesays,andIcanhearhervoiceasitquivers,hopereplacedwithdevastation.“DoyouknowwhereMommywent?”
“Putyourfatherbackonthephone,”Isay,becauseIcan’tanswerthosequestionsforher,butshedoesn’tlistentomeanymorethanScarleteverdoes.
“Please!”shesays,startingtocry.“IwantMommy!Idon’twannabeherenomore!Pleasedon’t—”
Sheletsoutashriekthatismuffleddamnnearinstantly.Icanhearastrugglethroughtheline,franticsobbing,coughing,likethegirlcan’tcatchherbreath.Mystomachsinks.Sevenlooksatmewithhorror,likeheexpectsmetodosomething,butwhatthehellamIsupposedtodoaboutthis?
I’msuddenlygratefulScarletisn’there,thatsheisn’thearingit.
“Quiet,kitten,”Aristovsays,gettingbackonthephone.“DaddyistalkingtoMommy’snewtoy.”
Thegirlgrowsquiet.
Idon’thearafuckingpeepfromher.
“Didyoujusthurther?”Iask,tryingtokeepcalm,whenIwanttoreachthroughthelineandriphisfuckingballsoff.
“Ishushedher.”
“Youchokedher.”
“Nonsense,”hesays.“Theymustbetaughtorelsetheyrunwild.Itisforherowngood.”
Forherowngood
“Whatdoyouwant?”Iask.“I’mstartingtolosemypatiencewithyou,andyou’rereallynotgoingtolikemewhenthathappens.”
“YouknowwhatIwant,”hesays.“Iwantmylittlekittentohavehermommyback.”
“Well,then,we’reonthesamepage,”Isay.“I’llgladlycomepickupthekidandreunitethemsotheycangoontheirmerryway.”
“Tsk,tsk.Youknowitwillnotworklikethat.”Helaughs.“Tellmewheretofindthesuka.I,also,growtiredofthisgame,andIwillnotplayitmuchlonger.IfyoudonotgivemewhatIwant,everyoneyouknowwillpaytheprice.Yourfriends,theirfamilies…evenyourownbrother.Yes,Iknowabouthim,MisterScar.Idonotwanttohurtthem,sodonotmakeme.AllIwantismyprettygirlbackhomesowecanbeafamily.”
BeforeIcanrespond,thelinegoesdead.
Hehunguponme.
“I’mgonnaenjoywatchingthatmandie,”Imutter,shakingmyhead.
“Boss…”
“Notnow,Seven,”Isay,hearingtheworryinhisvoice.“Saveit,whateveritis,untilI’vehadmoresleepandcanhandlethisshit.”
Iwalkoutofthewarehouse,pausinginthealleytopulloutajointandlightupasSevensecureseverything,lockingthedoors.
“CallJameson,”Isaywhenhejoinsme.“Tellhimtomeetmeatthatbar,theholeinthewall…”
“WhistleBinkie,”hesays.
“Yeah,thatone,”Imutter,headingtowardthecar.“Ineedafuckingdrink.”
SevendoesasIask,notquestioningmeanymore,drivingintothecity,totheLowerEastside,wherethebaris.Hepullsuptothecurbrightoutfront,findingthatrarestreetparking.
Maybemyluckisturningaround.
“Needmetocomein?”Sevenasks,cuttingthecaroffbutleavingthekeysdanglingintheignition.
“Youcanwaitouthere,”Isay.“Catchanapformeorsomething.”
Helaughs.“I’llseewhatIcando.”
Theplaceisn’tthatbusysoearlyintheafternoon,afewpeoplesittingalongthebarbutmostofthetablesareempty.Islideupontoanemptystool,andthebartenderlooksatme,doingadouble-take.It’sthesameguyaseveryothertimeI’vebeenhere.Dotheyevenhaveotheremployees?
“Haven’tseenyouinawhile,”hesays.“Bottleofrum,right?”
“Right.”
Hehandsitover,noargument,tearingoutthepouringspoutforme.Idrinkstraightfromthebottle,justsittinginsilence,tinkeringaroundwithacoasteruntilJamesonappears.
Hepullsoutthestoolbesidemetositdown.“Thirsty?”
Itakeaswigfromthebottle,shrugging,beforelookinghisway.ThesecondIseehisface,Ilaugh.Hisnoseisswollenandbruising,tapecoveringit.
Iofferhimthebottle.“Youlooklikeyoucanusesomeofthis.”
Hewavesmeoff,saying,“Ican’tmesswiththathardstuff,”beforemotioningtowardthebartender,askingforwhatever’sontap.
Hesipshisbeerwhenit’sdelivered,sighing,hunchedoveralongthebar.
“So,how’dyouexplainyourface?”Iask.
“Toldtheguysatworkmygrandsonhitmewithaball,butItoldmywifethetruth,”hesays,cuttinghiseyesatme.“Gothead-buttedbyaperp.”
“Aperp,huh?Thataboutsumsherup.”
“Tellmeaboutit,”hesays.“Gotthejudgetorescindthewarrantthismorning,gotitwipedoutofthesystem.HeardtheRussianshowedupandmadeastinkwhennobodycouldtellhimwhereshewent.”
“Hecalledmeabitago.”
“Yeah?Whatdidhewant?”
“Tousethekidtogetmetocooperate,”Isay.“Hehadheraskmeforhermommy.”
Jamesonmakesapainedface.“Hemustbegettingdesperate.”
“Heis,whichmeansit’sprobablygoingtogetuglysoon.I’lltrytokeepitallundertheradar,soyou’renotpulledin,butIwantedtogiveyoutheheadsupsoyou’renotblindsided.”
Henods,sippingonhisbeer.“Dowhatyou’vegottadoforyourgirl,Gambini.”
“She’snotmygirl.”
“Could’vefooledme,”hesays.“You’resuregoingthroughalotoftroubleforagirlthat’snotyours.”
“It’sprinciple,”Itellhim.“Thesoonerthisisover,thesoonermylifecangetbacktonormal.”
“Normal.”Helaughsatthat.“Whenthehellhasyourlifeeverbeennormal?”
Icutmyeyesathimbutignorethatquestion.
Wedrinkinsilenceforawhile.
Jamesonshoveshisglassasidewhenit’sempty.“IneedyourassurancethatAristovistheendofthis.”
Ilookathimbutsaynothing.
“I’velookedtheotherwayonalotofshit,Gambini,”hesays.“I’veburiedalotofevidenceforyougoingbackyears.Iletyourfriendwalkfortakingoutallthosebosses,becauseyoucametome,afavorforafavor,whenIhadmorethanenoughtolockhimawayfortherestofhislife.SoIneedthisparticularsituationtoendwiththeRussians,okay?”
He’snotspellingitout,butIknowwhathe’sgettingat.“YouwantmetoleaveDetectiveFuckfacealone.”
“Wehadadeal,youandI…nocops.Yourememberthat,don’tyou?”
Idon’tmakepromises,butIdidtellhimyearsagothatIwouldn’ttargetanyboysinblue.Itwashishardlimit.IcouldraiseasmuchhellasIwanted,butifIeverkilledacop,itwouldbeallover,ourarrangementoff.
“Youreallywanttocashinyourfavorforthatscumbag?”
“No,”hesays,laughingdryly.“Ifeltsafer,knowingyouowedme,soIhopedtokeepthatcardforalongtime,butIhaven’tgotmuchofachoiceunlessIwantafellowcop’sbloodonmyhands.”
“Icanmakehimdisappear,nobloodatall.”
Hecutshiseyesatme.
Apparently,hedoesn’tlikethatidea.
“Okay,then.Iftheguystopsbreathing,itwon’tbemydoing.Isthatwhatyouwanttohear?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.Deal.”Itakeaswigofrumbeforeshovingthebottleaside,tossingsomemoneyontothebartopayasIstandup.Itakeafewstepsaway,pausingtoglancebackathim.“Justsowe’reclear…doventilatorscount?BecauseIcandoalotofdamageifweletarespiratordohisbreathingfornowon.”
Jameson’seyesnarrow.“Don’tlayafingeronhim,Gambini.Imeanit.”
Iholdmyhandsup.“Justchecking.Haveagreatday,detective.”
Hemutterssomethingbeforemotioningforthebartendertobringhimanotherbeer.
Iwalkout,seeingmycarstillparkedalongthecurb,Sevenbehindthewheel,tinkeringwithmyphone.Iclimbinbesidehimandhecutshiseyesmyway,carefullysettingthephonedown.
“Someonecall?”Iask,pickingitup.
“Yeah.”Hestartsthecar.“Arentalagency.Yourbrotherputyoudownasareferenceonhisapplicationforanapartment.”
“Didyouhandleitforme?”
“Ofcourse,”hesays.“Toldthemhewasagreatkid,ahardworker,responsibleandrespectable.”
“Good,”Isaywithanod,settlingin.“Thanks.”ChapterSeven
Busterwasstillsittingonthemantle.
Alayerofdustcoveredhim,somesootfromthefireplacestreakinghispatchytanfur.Helookedsosad,coveredindarkness,thefireplacenotlitandthelightsnoton.
Thelittlegirlcreptcloser,walkingthroughtheemptyroom,andstaredupathim,frowning.Shewonderedifhestillsmelledlikehermother,orifhe’djustsmellalldusty.Standingonhertiptoes,shereachedup,herfingertipsgrazingthebear’sscorchedfoot.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
Thesharpvoicepiercedtheroom,instantlyknockingherbackflatonherfeet.Sheswungaround,facingthedoorway.“Nothing.”
TheTinManstoodrightinsidetheroom,armscrossedoverhischestashestaredather.
“Nothing,”herepeated,startingtowardher,hisstepsmeasured.Uh-oh.Hestoppedrightinfrontofher,crouchingdown,eye-level.“Nothingsoundslikealie,kitten.Doyouwanttochangeyouranswer?”
“Ididn’ttouchhim,”shesaid.“Iswear!”
“Anotherlie,”hepointedout.“Iwatchedyou.”
Hervoicewasquietasshesaid,“ButIjustmisshim.”
“Tellme,whyishesospecialtoyou?Heisold,andugly,andhestinks.Whydoeshematter?”
Sheshrugged.“Idon’tknow.”
“Yetanotherlie,”hesaid.“Onemoretimeandyouwilllivetoregreteveropeningyourmouthtome,sobeverycareful.Iwillaskyouagain,andIwantananswer…whatmakesyourBustersospecial?”
Shehesitatedbeforewhispering,“Mommygavehimtome.”
“Shegaveyouyourlife,too,butyoudonotseemtocareaboutthat,”hesaid,cuppingherchin,squishinghercheekswithhisfingerslikehesometimesdid.“Doyounottakemeserious?Isthattheproblem?DoyouthinkIamjustjokingwithyou?BecausewhatdidIsaywouldhappenifyoutouchedthatbear?”
Shetrembled,herkneesallwobbly.“Thatyou’dburnhim.”
“And?”
“And…”
And…shedidn’tknow.
Shecouldn’treallyremember.
Rememberingwasgettingsohard.
“AndIwouldburnyou,too,”hesaid,raisinghiseyebrows,hisfacesoclosetheirnosesalmosttouched.“WhatmakesyouthinkIwillnotshoveyouinthatfireplaceandlightyouup?”
“Youloveme,”shewhispered,hervoiceshaky.
“Ido,”hesaid.“Youarespecialtome,kitten,forthesamereason…yourmothergaveyoutome.YouaremyBuster.Andoh,howIwishIcouldsetyouonthemantle,keepyoufromtrouble,butthereisafireinyou.Youarethesuka’sdaughter.Shehadafire,also,andyouwanttoknowthebestwaytoputoutfire?”
“How?”
“Yousmotherit.”
Beforethelittlegirlcouldsayanotherword,hepounced.Hislefthandgraspedthebackofherneck,pinningherinplace,asthehandonherchinshifted,fingerspinchinghernoseclosedashispalmcoveredhermouth.
Shetriedtoinhale,butshecouldn’t
Eyeswide,shestruggled,clawingathisarms,tryingtoriphishandawaysoshecouldgetsomeair,shovinghimashardasshecould,nearlyknockinghimback.
Groaning,hestoodup,hisholdlooseninglongenoughforhertotakeabreath,lettingoutapiercingshriekthathesilencedbysnatchingherup.Yankingherovertoablackleatherchair,hethrewherdownonit,hiskneebracinghim,pressedintothecushion,ashishandwentoverhermouthagain.
“Vor!”
TheCowardlyLion’svoiceshoutedfromthedoorway.Thelittlegirlrecognizedit.Hissuddenpresencedidn’tstoptheTinMan,though.Hekeptsmotheringher.
“Kassian!Stopbeforeyoukillher!”
TheTinManletgoatthosewords,andthelittlegirlinhaledsharply,hervisionblurry.Sheblinked,trembling,asheleaneddown,hisnoseclosetohernoseagain.“YouwillneverhaveyourBusterback,kitten,andyouhavenoonetoblamebutyourself.”
TheTinManstoodupandwalkedaway,stallingnearthedoor,wheretheCowardlyLionlurked.
“Youareforgettingyourplaceagain,Markel,”hesaid,glaringathim.“Imaketheorders.Ifyoudonotlikeit,gosomewhereelse.”
Thelittlegirlcurledupinthechair,crying,astheTinManwalkedout,disappearing.Afteramoment,theCowardlyLionturnedherway,carefullyapproaching.Stoppingbythechair,hereacheddown,brushingthehairfromherface,wipingthetearsfromhercheek.
“Ialwayshatedwhenhemadeyourmothercry,”hesaid.“Somanynights,shewouldcry,butshefoundcouragewithyou.AndIknowyouwantthatbear,sweetgirl,butitisnotthebearyoulove.Itisyourmother.”
“Imissher,”thelittlegirlwhispered.
“Iknow,”hesaid,sighing.“Andinhisowntwistedway,hemissesher,too.”ChapterEight
ThefrontdooropensjustasIstepoffofthestairsandintothequietfoyerofthehouse.MygazeflickersthatwaywhenLorenzowalksinside.He’salone,andnobodyelseishome,whichmeansit’sjustmeandhimatthemoment.
Ipausethere,cautiouslywatchinghim.
HewasgonewhenIwokeup,eventhoughIbeatthesunrise.Theairinthehousewasstiflinglastnight,anditdoesn’tfeelanymorecomfortablethismorning.I’mnotsureifit’sleftovertensionorifmaybeI’mjustprojecting.
Eitherway,Idon’tlikeit.
Idon’twanttowearoutmywelcome.
Lorenzoglancesmyway,hesitatingamomentbeforeheshutsthedoor.“Youlooknice.”
Iglancedownatmyself,atthecasuallittleblackandwhitestripeddresswithlongsleeves.Itgoesalmosttomyknees.Iboughtitbecauseithaspockets,whichisdamnnearamiracleforwomen’sclothing.Pocketsarekindoflikemenwhoeatpussyforfun—unicorns
“Yeah,I’vebeensettingthebarcrazylowlately,withallthesweatsandjunk,soIjustthought,youknow,whynotgivelookinglikemyselfanothergo?”
Hisgazeslowlyscansme.“You’rebeautifulnomatterwhatyouwear.”
“Thanks,”Isay,thecomplimentsurprisingme.Therewasnotastitchofsarcasmtoit.Weird.He’swearingfadedjeansandlooselylacedcombatbootswithanunbuttonedblackHenleyshirtandablackcoat.It’sstrange,howthemancanlooksowellput-togetherwithwhateverjustthrownon,nothoughtgiventoitatall.“Youlooknice,too.”
Lorenzoglancesathimself,makingaface,beforecuttinghiseyesmyway.“Don’tmakethisshitweird,Scarlet.”
Ilaughasheshrugsoffhiscoat,drapingitoverhisarm.Hetakesafewstepsaway,towardhislibrary,beforepausinginthehall.
Helingersthere,hisbacktome,likesomethinghashimtorn,beforeheslowlyturnsaroundagain.“Yougoingsomewhere?”
“Yeah,IfiguredI’dgetsomeair,”Isay,motioningtowardthefrontdoor.“Youknow,getoutofyourhairforawhile.”
“Getoutofmyhairforawhile.”
“Yep.”
“Pity,”hesays.“Ikindoflikeyouinmyhair.”
Hewalksaway,disappearingintohislibrary,leavingthedooropenbehindhim.Istandhereforamoment,mygazeshiftingbetweenthehallandthefrontdoor,beforefollowinghim,myblackheelsclickingagainstthewoodenfloor,soIknowhehearsmeapproaching.
He’ssittinginthechair,handslacedtogetheronthetopofhishead,thesleevesofhisshirtshoveduptohiselbows.Hislegsarestretchedout,crossedattheankles.Whilehelooksrelaxed,Isensethetension.Itrollsoffofhimlikewaves,writteninhissilence.
Istallthere,mostlystillinthehall,andleanagainstthedoorframeasIregardhim.
Hestaresatmeforamomentbeforesaying,“Youcancomein,youknow.”
“Iknow.”
“Yetyou’restandingthere,”hesays,“makingshitweird.”
Ismilesoftly.“Iwasjustwonderingifmaybeyou’dwanttocomealong.”
“Comealong.”
“Yes.”
“Togetoutofmyhair.”
“Yes.”
Hedoesn’tsayanything.
It’sstilltense.Andawkward.Icanfeelit.Canyou?Imean,look,IknowhowstupidI’mprobablysoundingatthemoment,butI’msooutofmyelementhere.It’snotlikeI’mexactlyfluentinrelationships.I’vegotnofriends…nofamilybesidesmydaughter…neverevenhadaboyfriend,ifwe’rebeingtechnicalJustastringofmenwhousedmeformybodyandnowIhavehim,andwhateverthisthingis,andit’salljustsoforeign.Butthingsfeelweird,he’sright,andIdon’treallyknowhowtomakeitbetter.
“Imean,nooffense,butyou’reabitofanasshole,”Isay.“Figuredyoumightwanttogetawayfromthatdudeforawhile.”
Again,hesaysnothing.
“Ornot,”Imumble,givinghimasmallsmilethathedoesn’treturnbeforeIpushawayfromthedoorframe,goingbackoutintothehall.Iheadforthefrontdoor,openingit,andamabouttowalkoutwhenIhearmovementbehindme.
Glancingovermyshoulder,IseeLorenzoasheslipsonhiscoat,comingtowardme,movingpastme,walkingrightoutsidewithoutaword.Ijoinhim,shuttingthefrontdoorasIeyehimpeculiarly.It’sseventydegreesout,yethe’sbundleduplikeit’sstillwinter.
“Youhungry?”Iaskaswestarttowalkawayfromthehouse,leavinghiscarparkedinthedriveway,sinceIfigurethesubwaywillsuffice.Hefollowsmylead,likehe’sjusttaggingalong.
“Depends,”hesays.“Youoffering?”
“Ofcourse,”Isay.“Youeverdineanddash?”
Helaughsatthat.“Allthetime.”
“Awesome.”
Weheadintothecity,switchingtrainstwice.IttakesalmostanhourbeforewefinallygetoffaroundBroadway.I’mnotsurewherewe’regoing,orreallyevenwhy,butsomewherealongthewayLorenzotakestheleadlikehe’sgotadestinationinmind.
WeendupatarestaurantnearCentralPark,oneofthosefancyassbillionairecallgirlplaces,thewineanddineandsixty-ninekindofgals,whereyoutreathertochampagneandcaviarbeforeturningheroutatThePlazauntilyourViagragivesout.
YougetwhereI’mgoingwiththis?
Me,withmyfaceallscrapedupfromthealleywayscuffle,andhimbeing,well…him.We’reoutofplacehere,butLorenzodoesn’tseemtonotice.Hewaltzesoninthedoorasifheownstheplace,approachingthehostessandsaying,“needatablefortwo,”asifbarkingthatwillnegatethe‘byreservationonly’signhangingupnearus.
Thehostessimpatientlymuttersthereservationpolicybeforeshelooksup,silencingmid-sentence.She’squietforasecond,caughtofguard,beforeshesays,“Surething,Mr.Gambini.Comingrightup.”
Oh-kay
Sheshowsustoasmalltableinthebackcorner,droppingofftwotinyone-pagemenusfullofshitthat’sforeigntome,likeMiyazakiWagyu(somefancyasskindofsteak,accordingtoLorenzo).I’mreadingthroughit,makingfacesasItrytodecipherit.“Haveyoueatenherebefore?”
“Allthetime,”hesays.
Ofcourse,makessense,sincetheyrecognizedhim.“Youknow,dininganddashingonlyworksifyou’reabletogetaway,whichdoesn’treallybodewellforus,sincetheyknowyourfuckingname.”
Helaughs.“Iknow.”
“Sowhyarewehere?”
Hedoesn’thavetoanswerthat,no,becausetheuniversetellsmeexactlywhywe’reherewhenIglanceupandcomeface-to-facewithLeo.He’swearinghistuxedoworkuniform.
Irealizerightawaythathe’sourwaiter.Ohboy
“Whatdoyouwant?”hegrumbles,stallingbesidethetable,staringathisbrother.He’skindofadorable,withthatlittleblackbowtie,especiallywithhimpoutingatthemoment.
Makesmewanttopinchhischeeks.
“Isthathowyougreetallofyourcustomers?”Lorenzoasks.“Becauseifso,Iwould’vefiredyourasslongago.”
“Look,it’sbeenalongdayalready,andI’mworkingadouble,socanyoucutmeabreak?”Leoasks.“I’mdoingmybesthere.”
“Iknow,”Lorenzosays,snatchingthemenufrommyhand,discardingit.“We’lljusttakethetastingmenu.”
Iscowl.“You’reorderingforme?”
Lorenzocutshiseyesmyway.“Isthataproblem?”
“Depends,”Isay.“Whatdidyouorder?”
“Tastingmenu,”Leochimesin.“It’salittlebitofeverything,likeasamplerorwhatever.”
“Oh,wellthen…”IwavetowardLorenzo.“Notaproblem.”
“Youwantsomewineorsomething?”Lorenzoasks.
“Orsomething,”Imumble,pickingupthedrinkmenu,whichisahundredandfiftytimesbiggerthanthefoodone.Notevenjoking.Ahundredandfiftypagesofalcohol.Iflipthroughit,scowlingsomemore.WineWineWine.Red.White.LocationsandyearsandwhothefuckknowswhatalltheFrenchmeans.Myeyesskimalongthepricelist.“Ohgeez,whocanaffordtoevensmellhalfofthese?”
“Ican,”Lorenzosays.
“Doesthatmeanyou’rebuying?”
Heshrugs.
Itakethatasayes
“Well,inthatcase…”Iclosethedrinkmenu,shovingitaside.“Abottleofyourmostexpensivewhateverthehellisonthatmenu,thanks.”
Leolaughs,whileLorenzosnatchesthemenuup.“Whoa,whoa,I’llbegoddamned…that’sliketwenty-thousanddollars,Scarlet.Dropsomefuckingzeroes,woman.”
Irollmyeyes,turningtoLeo.“Yougotanythingfruity,likethecrapthatcomeswithlittleumbrellas?”
Leonods.
“Givemeoneofthose,”Isay.“Surpriseme.”
Leolooksathisbrotheragain.“Whatdoyouwant?”
“Rum.”
Rum.Ofcourse
“Glassofourbestrum,”Leosays.
“Cheapestrum,”Lorenzosays.“Andthewholebottlewillbenice.”
“Glassofourworstrum,”Leomutters.“Wholebottle,myass…”
Leowalksaway,whileLorenzoglaresathim.
Mydrinkdoesn’tcomewithalittleumbrella,itturnsout,butinsteadisdecoratedwithsomefancyorangepeelsincurlyshapes.Ipluckoneout,lookingatitpeculiarlywhileItakeasipofthewhatever-it-is.Sweetandfruityandstrong
“Thosearemyoranges,”LorenzopointsoutashetakesaswigofhisrumfromthesmallglassLeobroughthim.Nobottle
Ieyethepeel.“StraightofftheGambinigroves?”
“Yes.”
“Huh,isn’tthatsomething,”Isay.“Mustmakeyouproud,havingsuchasuccessfulbusiness.”
“It’sallright.”
“It’sallright,”Isay,repeatinghim.“Geez,man,containyourenthusiasm.”
Hesmilesslightly.“Forgivemefornotsquealinglikealittlebitchaboutit.It’salotofworkfornotmuchpayoff.It’skindofdepressing,havingspentoverfifteenyearsworkingsunuptosundown,bustingmyasstokeepthefamilybusinessgoing,andnotbankingevenafractionofwhatI’vemadesincecomingtoNewYork.AndIdon’tevenbreakasweathere,youknow.Itpaystobeanon-sentimentalasshole.”
“Butyetyoukeepthegroves,”Ipointout.
“They’remyhome.”
Thatresponsesurprisesme.Home.“Youthinkofthatashome?”
“Whywouldn’tI?”
“Uh,Idon’tknow,”Isay.“Maybebecauseofwhatyouwentthroughthere,withyourstepdadandyourmomand—”
“Doesn’tmatter,”hesays,cuttingmeoff.“Myfatherbuilttheplaceandleftittome.Nothingtheycoulddowouldeverruinthat.Irefusetoletit.”
“Sowhyareyouhere?”
“Ialreadytoldyouwhy,”hesays.“Samereasonasyou…Isawamovie.”
Iknowhe’sbullshitting.HowdoIknowthat?BecauseIwaswhenIsaidthattohimontheroofallthoseweeksago,thatI’dcometoManhattanbecauseoftheMuppets.
“Thereare,what…eightmillionpeopleinNewYorkCity?”Iask.
“Somethinglikethat.”
“Ijustthought,youknow,thatmanypeople,Iwasboundtofindsomebodytogiveashitaboutme.Sothat’swhyIcame.Iwasyoung,andlonely,andsickofbeingignoredandoverlooked.Iwantedtomattertosomeone.”
Lorenzostaresatme,likemaybehedoesn’tknowwhattosaytothat.Itstartstogetweirdagain,withhimnotspeaking,soI’mdamngratefulwhenthefoodstartstoarrive.Thankgod.Leodropsofftwoplates,andImakeafacewhenheexplainswhatitis—somekindofcreamsaucewithoystersandcaviar.
Itlooksmorelikeartthansomethingtoeat.
Itryit,though,becausefuckit.Idon’tlikelettingfoodgotowaste.It’ssalty,andfishy,andugh…nothanks.Itgraduallygetsworse,withmorefishandsomeartistic-lookingartichokes,somefunkybeefinstrong-tastingbroth,beforethere’sevenmoreseafood.Andmore.Andmore.Andmore.There’sasaladwithdressingthattasteslikesweetandsoursauceandafuckingceleryandleeksomethingthat’sbeengrilledwithtruffles.
Truffles.
TheonlytrufflesIeatarethechocolateones.
Lorenzo,though,devoursitall.
Wedon’ttalk.
Thelastcoursearrives,andIbreatheasighofreliefthatthedessertlookslikedessertandisn’tsomeweirdfishshit.Cookiesandicecreamandchocolate,ohmygod…Ishovelitallin,nohesitationatall.I’mstillstarving
“Igotbored,”Lorenzosayseventually,nottouchinghisdessert.
Iglanceathim,browfurrowing.“What?”
“That’swhyI’mhere,”hesays.“Iknowthatsoundslikebullshit,butit’strue.Igotbored,andIwantedachange.Orangesweren’tmyfather’sonlylegacy.Hegrewupinthemob,ranthesestreetsforyears,untiltheGenovafamilydrovehimoutoftown…that’showheendedupinFlorida.Buteventhen,theywouldn’tlethimbe.SoIthought,youknow,whynotpickupwhereheleftoff?SoIshowedup,tookthemallout,andhereIam,boredagain…oratleastIwas.”
“Notboredanymore?”
“Atthemoment,no.”
“That’sgoodtoknow,”Isay.“Whathappenswhenyougetboredagain?”
“Igobackhome.”
LeoshowsupagainbeforeIcanrespond,droppingoffthecheck,whichIpromptlypickup.It’sdamnneareight-hundredbucks.Forlunch.“Whoa,buddy…”
Lorenzosnatchesitfrommyhandandtossesitbackonthetablebeforestandingup.“Comeon.”
Hestartswalkingaway,andIjustgapeathim,becausehe’slegitimatelyleaving,likewe’reactuallydininganddashing,becausehe’snotpayingthecheck,andIcertainlycan’tdoit.Idon’thavethatmuchmoney.Ishoveupoutofthechair,following,keepingmyheaddownandnotmakingeyecontactwithanyone,whilehelookspeopledeadintheface.
He’sfuckinginsane
Thesecondhestepsoutside,hepullsouthistinandgrabsajoint,flickingamatchtolightit,smokingitrighthereonthesidewalkashelooksaround.“So,wheretonow?”
“Jail,probably,”Isay,pausingbesidehim,scowlingasheblowssmokeinmyface.“Idon’tknowhowthehellyou’veevadedlockupsofar,becauseyou’reterribleatflyingundertheradar.”
“WhosaysI’mtryingtoflyundertheradar?”heasks.“Imean,comeon,baby…lookatmyface.There’snopointinmesneakingaround.”
Ilookathim,notbecausehejusttoldmeto,butbecauseofthewordheused.Baby.Itdoesthekindofthingtomychestthatmakesmefeeluncomfortable—thesqueezing,tightening,pitter-patteringbullshit.Ugh,knockitoff,heart.You’vegotnobusinessreactingtohim.
Ipointathisface,wavingmyfingeraround.“Yeah,well,thatdoesn’tmeanyouhavetoflauntit.”
Lorenzograbsmyhand,pullingitawayfromhisface,stillholdingontoitashesays,“Butthat’swhatmakesitallsofun.”
Irollmyeyes.“There’ssomethingwrongwithyou.”
“Iknow,”hesays.“So,whereto?”
He’slookingatmelikehewantsananswer,butIjustshrug,becauseI’mnotsure.Ididn’treallyleavethehousewithaplan,youknow?
Besides,he’stouchingmyhand.Holdingmyhand.Weird
Lorenzosighs,finallylettinggoandcontinuingtosmoke,motioningwithhisheaddownthestreetbeforehestartstowalk.Idon’tknowwherehe’sgoing,andhesureashelldoesn’ttellme,butIfollowalongregardless.
“SoyourBroadwaystorywasbullshit?”heasks.“TheMuppetsdidn’tmakeyouwanttojointhechorusline?”
Ismile.“Itwasn’tbullshit,perse.IdidfallinlovewithBroadway.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,”Isay.“IwishIhadthatkindoftalent…thekindwheresomeonewouldpaymetodancearoundwithmyclotheson…butIdon’t,soIleaveittotheprofessionals.”
“What’syourfavoriteplay…musical…whatever?”
“TheLionKing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Helaughs,likehefindsmyanswerfunny.“Isawthecartoonafewtimes.”
“Me,too.”Morethanafewtimes.“Neveractuallysawthemusical,though.”
HisfootstepsfaltersomuchthatIalmostrunrightintohim.“Howisityourfavoriteifyou’veneverseenit?”
“I’veneverreallyseenanyofthem,”Isay,“butIheardit’sgood,andI’veseenclips.”
“You’veseenclips.”
“Yes.”
“That’sjust…”
“Pathetic?”
“Iwasgoingformorelikebullshit.”
“It’slife,”Isay,“which,contrarytowhatyouseemtothink,can’talwaysbefun.”
“See,nowthatisbullshit.”
Hepullshisphonefromhispocketandstartstinkeringwithit,liketheconversationisovernow,nothingelsetosayaboutit.Westrollalongforwhoknowshowlong,wanderingthestreetsuntilmyfeetstarttohurt.Ikickmyshoesoffandcarrythem,becausefuckit,whichearnsmeapeculiarlookfromLorenzo.Heshoveshisphoneawayeventually,butwestilldon’treallytalk.
Ilethimlead,andmaybeit’sweird,butI’mkindofenjoyingthesilence.It’speacefulinasenseandsetsmeatease.
Ineededthattoday.
Neededthis.
Serenity
WeenduponBroadwayinthemiddleoftheafternoon,andIlookup,gazingattheyellowTheLionKingsignsalongMinskoffTheater.Lorenzoheadsrightfortheplace,gettingcloser…closer…closer,butIgrabhisarmtostophimashenearsagatheredcrowd.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“GoingtoseeTheLionKing.”
“I,uh…what?”
Istarttoargue,buthedoesn’tstoptolistentoawordofmycomplaint,headingrightinsidejustasothersfilterin.ThemanworkingthedoorlooksatLorenzo,avertinghiseyesquicklyinreaction.
Itense.Itmakesmesicktomystomach.
Lorenzo,though,doesn’tseembothered.
Theguyasksforourtickets,butLorenzotalkshiswayrightoutofit,weaselingpasttwomoreworkersandanusherinside,likethey’realljusttooafraidtosay‘no’tohim.Wefindsomeemptyseatsintheback,wayuptop,butI’mnotgoingtocomplainabit.I’mjusttoodamnshockedI’mactuallyinthetheater.Intermissionisending,thesecondactstartingup.Wemissedthewholebeginning,butfuckit…IneverthoughtI’dseethismuch.
Themusicstarts,andI’mentrancedaswesecond-acttheafternoonshowing,ignoringthelooksofpeoplearounduswhoknowdamnwellweweren’thereearlier.Thefirstfewminutes,I’monedge,waitingtobethrownout,buteventually,thedrawofwhat’shappeningonstageisjusttoomuch.
Iwatch,tearsinmyeyesthatIstruggletoholdback,pressureinmychestlikemyheartwantstoexplode.I’mburstingattheseamswithfeelingsandIdon’tknowwhattodoaboutit.It’slikebeingsweptupinatornadoandI’mjustwaitingforittodropmesomewhere.
AndIlandhardthesecondit’sover.
I’mupoutofmystolenseat,cheeringloudly,clappingandscreechingandcrying,becauseit’sthemostbeautifulthingI’veeverwitnessedoutsideofmydaughter.Nothingwilleverbemorebeautifulthanher,butthismomentisaclosesecond,andallIcanthinkasIstandhereishowmuchshe’dlovethis,howhappyitwouldmakehertoseesomethingsotouching.
IturntoLorenzo.He’sjuststaringstraightahead.Hecutshiseyesatme,likehecansensemyattention,andmakesafacebecauseI’mcrying.
“Comeon,fuddy-duddy,”Isay,shovingagainsthim.“Let’sgettheheckoutofhere.”
Hedoesn’thavetobetoldtwice.He’soutofthechairandheadingthroughthecrowdwhiletheperformersarestilltakingbows.Iwipemyfaceaswegooutside,knowingmymakeuphastobeamess.
“Thatwas…wow,”Isaywhenwewalkawayfromthetheater.“Idon’tevenhavewordsrightnow.”
“Yetyou’retalking.”Hemakesapuppetoutofhishandasheholdsitup,rightinmyface,saying,“blah,blah,blah,blah,blah…”
Ishovehishandawaywithalaugh.“Fuckoff.”
Helooksatmeandsmiles.Hesmiles.It’sgenuine,nomorethanaflickerofhappiness,butit’sthere,andIseeit,anditdoessomethingtome.
There’sthatdamnpitter-patteringagain.
“There’ssomethingaboutyou,Lorenzo,”Isay,shakingmyheadasIlookaway,unconsciouslyreturninghissmile.“SometimesIthinkyoumightjustbehuman.”
“You’remakingshitweirdagain,Scarlet.”
Irollmyeyes.“Whatever.”
“So,wheretonow?”heasks,stoppingonthenearbycorner,waitingforthelighttochangetocrossthestreet.
“Idon’tknow…nowhere,Iguess?”Ishrug,wavingbacktowardthetheater.“I’mnotsurehowthatcouldbetopped.”
Helooksatme,raisinghiseyebrows.“Isthatachallenge?”
“Uh,no…”
“Itsoundslikeone.”
“Well,itisn’t.”
Hegrins,aslykindofsmilejustasthelightchanges,leaningclosertowhisper,“challengeaccepted,”beforewalkingaway,crossingthestreet.
I’mnotsurewhathe’sthinkingrightnow,butmystomachtwistsallupinknots.Shit
I’vegotabadfeelingaboutthis.
ButI’vegottoadmit…Ikindoflikeit.
***
Sevenlivesinalittlebrowncookie-cuttertownhouse.Pottedplantslinethesteps,theflowersinthemstartingtobloom.
Purple.Andpink.
Seriously,he’sgotpurpleandpinkflowersleadingtohisfrontdoor.
Hestandsthereinthedoorway,dressedlikeusualbutyetbarefoot,hiseyesscanninguswithconfusion,likewe’rethelastpeopleheexpectedtoseewhenhisdoorbellrangamomentago.
“Bruno,love,whoisit?”awoman’svoicecallsoutfrombehindhiminside
“It’s,uh…”
Sevendoesn’tfinish,buthereallydoesn’thaveto,becausethewomanpopsupinthedoorwaybesidehim.She’severythingyou’dexpectfromsomeonewithpottedplantsleadingtoherdoor,thekindofwomanthatjustlookslikeshe’dpackherhusbandhealthysnacksbeforesendinghimofftowork—burgundyruffledblouse,blackpencilskirt,withperfectlystraightblondehair,wearingthekindofmakeupthatdoesn’tlooklikemakeup.
YouknowwhatI’msaying?
Shelooksoutatus,eyeswideningonlyslightly.She’seithergotonehellofapokerfaceorshe’sgottenusedtoLorenzo.“Oh,hello,Mr.Gambini.”
Hemerelynodsather.
Hergazeshiftstomeasshesmiles.“Hi,there!I’mSarah.Youare…?”
“Morgan,”Isay,alittlecaughtoffguardbyherpoliteness.“MorganMyers.”
“Nicetomeetyou,MissMyers,”shesays.
“You,too,”Isay,becauseIdon’tknowwhatelsetosaytothat.
“Morganis,uh…Lorenzo’sgirlfriend.”
Oh,whoa,buddy
MyeyesdarttoLorenzo,stunned,andseehe’smakingafacesimilartotheonehemakeswhenheseesmecrying.He’sdisturbed.Thatshouldprobablyoffendme,right?Shouldprobablywanttohithim.Instead,itmakesmelaugh.
“Oh,wow,that’sgreat,”Sarahsays,stillsmilingatme.“Iwasjustfinishingupdinner.We’rehavingtacos.Wouldyouliketojoinus?There’splentytogoaround.”
“Oh,Jesus,yes,”Isay,thewordsflyingoutofmymouthwithoutmeeventhinkingaboutthem.
Sarahlaughs.“Well,then,comeonin!”
Sevenlooksinsanelynervous,watchinghiswifeasshewalksaway,beforeheturnstoLorenzo.“Boss?”
Lorenzojuststandsthere.
Hesaysnothing.
Idon’thaveitinmetotrytofigureouttheirexchange,becausemystomachisgrowlingandthewomansaidtacos.Shruggingitoff,Iheadupthesteps,mymovementbringingLorenzobackaroundtoreality.
“Relax,Seven,”Lorenzosays,followingmeinside.“It’llbefine.”
Idon’tknowifSevenagreeswiththat,becausehesaysnothing,toopreoccupiedashiswifecallsoutforhimtosettwomoreplacesatthetable.
Istarttofollow,butLorenzograbsmyarm,stoppingmerightintheentrywaytothetownhouse.Hisvoiceislowashesays,“Domeafavorandbeonyourbestbehavior.”
Mybrowfurrows.“WhatdoyouthinkI’mplanningtodohere,straddlethewoman’slapandmotorboathertitties?It’sdinner.”
Lorenzoletsoutalaughofdisbelief,notlettinggoofmyarm.“They’reMormon.”
Okay,thatstallsme.“What?”
“Watchwhatyousay,”hecontinues.“Don’ttalkaboutstealing,orkilling,orfucking…”
“Whatarewesupposedtotalkabout?”
“Idon’tknow,”hesays.“Whateverpeopletalkaboutthataren’tthosethings.”
“Wait,holdon,”Isaywhenhefinallyletsgo.“Ifshe’ssuper-conservative,howdoesthedudegetawaywithworkingforyou?”
Itstrikesme,assoonasIaskthat,thatshedoesn’tknow
“Wedealinoranges,Scarlet,”hesays,turningaway.“It’salucrativebusiness.”
Iheadtothekitchen,becausewell,there’snogettingoutofthisnowTacos,itturnsout,aren’tthekindoftacosI’mthinkingabout.They’refancyhomemadechickentacoswithsomekindofyogurtsauce.Wesitdownatthetable,andtheyblessthefoodwithaprayer.
Yeah,Igotusindeephere…
“So,tellmeaboutyourself,Morgan,”Sarahsaysaswestarttoeat.“Whatisityoudo?”
Oh,boy
I’mwaitingforoneoftheguystochimeinforme,butnope.I’monmyownhere.
“I’mkindofinbetweengigsrightnow,”Isay.“StilltryingtofigureoutwhatIwanttodowithmylife.”
“You’reyoung.You’vegotplentyoftime.”Shesmiles.Alwayssmiling.“How’dyoutwomeet?”
ShemotionstowardLorenzo,whoiseagerlyeatingliketheguyhasnevereatenbefore,avoidinghavingtotalk.Figures
“Justranintohimonthestreetoneday,”Isay.“It’skindofafunnystory,actually…yousee,helosthiswalletandIhappeneduponitandhetrackedmedowntogetitback.Ineverexpectedtoseehimagain,muchlesssomehowbecomehisgirlfriend.”
Lorenzochokes.
Notevenkidding.
Hestartschoking,coughing,hisfaceturningred.
Sevenjumpsup,likehe’sabouttogivehimCPR,butLorenzopullshimselftogetherbeforethemancantouchhim.
“I’mfine,”hegrumbles,wavinghimoff.“Sitbackdown.”
Thesubjectchanges,thankstoSeven,whofinallydecidestochimeinanddistracthiswife,takingtheattentionoffofus.Islouchinmychair,leaningtowardLorenzo,whispering,“It’sjustaword.They’reonlywords,remember?”
Lorenzocutshiseyesmyway.Iknowhe’sgotsomechoicewordsformerightnow,buthestaysonhisbestbehavior.
Dinnerisoverquickly,andLorenzomakesanexcuseabouthavingworktodoinordertofleethehouse.Sarahdrawsmetoherinahug…ahug…beforetellingmetostopbyanytimeI’dlike.
Sevenwalksusout,stallingnearthepottedplantsasIheaddownontothesidewalktowait.Soweird,theirperfectlittlelife.Ididn’texpectit.
“Ineedthataddress,”LorenzotellsSeven.“Yougotitformeyet?”
“Yeah,holdon.”Sevengoesbackinside,returningamomentlaterwithaslipofscrappaper,somethingwrittenonit.“Doyouneedmeto—?”
“No,Igotit,”Lorenzosays,fistingthepaper.“Tellthemissusweappreciatedinner.”
“Surething,boss.”
Sevengoesbackinside,closingthedoor,visitover.
Lorenzoturnstome,slowlyapproaching,andsaysnothing,althoughIknowthere’ssomuchhecouldsayatthemoment.
“Thattotallydidn’ttopTheLionKing,”Itellhim.
“Yeah,well,youdidthatshittoyourself,Scarlet.”
Hewalksaway.
Again,Ifollow.
Idon’tknowwherewe’regoing,andhedoesn’taskmeforideasthistime,soI’mprettysurehe’sgotanotherdestinationinmind.
AsweheaddeeperintoBrooklyn,mynervesgrowmorefrayed.WeendupdowninManhattanBeachaftersunset,infrontofadecentlysizedgrayhouse.Openandairy,modernarchitecturewithmassivewindowsandasecond-storyterrace.Thelightsarealloff,nobodyhomethatIcantell.
“Youeverbeenherebefore?”Lorenzoasks.
“Uh,no.”Ilookathimwithconfusion.“ShouldIhave?”
Heshrugs.
Oh-kay
BeforeIcanquestionthat,hescalesthefencesurroundingtheplaceandheadsforit.Shit
Ifollow,notnearlyasgracefully,keepingmyheaddown.Lorenzocirclestheoutside,surveyingthehouse,beforefocusinghisattentionontheterrace.
I’vesnuckintoenoughabandonedbuildingsinmylifetoknowexactlywhathe’sdoing.
“Youwantmeto,like,giveyouahandup?”Iask.“Maybegetdownonmyhandsandkneesandletyoustandonmyback?”
“Wouldyou?”heasks.
Ishrug.“Whynot?Won’tbethefirsttimeaguysteppedalloverme.”
Helaughs,shakinghishead.“Actually,itmightbeeasierifIhelpedyouupthere.”
“Todowhat,breakin?”
“Yes.”
Isigh,staringupattheterrace.Fuckit.“Fine,let’sdothis.”
Hehastheaudacitytolooksurprised,likehedoubtedmycommitmenttodelinquency(seriously?),buthekneelsdown,saying,“Climbonmyshoulders.”
It’sawkward,butIdoit,straddlinghisneckwhilewearingadress,sittingonhisshoulderslikewe’replayingagameofChicken.Igriphimtightly,holdingon,ashestandsupagain,liftingmejusthighenoughtoreachtheterrace.
Look,I’mnotevengoingtopretendthatswingingonpolesdayafterdaydoesn’thaveitsbenefits.AssoonasIgetmyhandsontherailing,Ipullmyselfup,noproblem.Climbingisabreeze.Gettingdownisusuallyadifferentstory,though.Gravitycanbeabitch.
Iapproachtheterracedoor,tuggingonit.
Locked.Ofcourse
“Justwiggleit,”hecallsuptome.“Thelocksonthoseareusuallyshit.”
“Yeah,yeah,”Imutter,reachingintomybraandpullingoutmyknife.What,youdidn’tthinkIstoppedcarryingit,didyou?Pffttt.Iopentheblade,slidingitinthecrack,toyingwithitforamomentbeforeitpopsopen.“Ha!”
“Goodgirl.”
Iswingaround,scowlingatthosewordsasIlookdownathim.“Seriously?”
Hewavesmeoff.“Justcomeletmein,woman.”
Imocksalutehim,slippinginsidewhatturnsouttobeabedroom.Averycleanbedroom.Spotless.Itiptoethroughthehouse,makingmywaydownstairswhereLorenzowaits.
Iunlockthebackdoor,lettinghimin.
Helocksitrightbehindhimagain.
Lorenzostartssearchingthehouse.Idon’tknowwhathe’slookingfor,butIjustrollwithit,wanderingthroughthekitchenandfindingastackofmailonthecounter.Iglanceatthetopenvelope,freezingasmyeyesglossacrossthenameonit.
GabrielJones.
“Seriously?”Ihiss,turningtoLorenzoasheopensdrawers,glancinginsideofthem.“Webrokeintoadetective’shouse?Doyouwanttogetarrested?”
“Notsure,”hesays.“Neverbeen.”
“Neverbeenarrested?”
“Nope.”
“How?”
Helaughs.
He’sbeenlaughingalottonight.
“MaybeI’mjustgoodatwhatIdo,”hesays.
“That’sinsane,”Isay.“It’slikeyoucastsomespellthatmakesyouinvincible.You’reafuckingwizard.”
Hecutshiseyesatme.“Voodoo?”
“Yes!”
Helaughs.Again
“Whatarewelookingfor,anyway?”
Heshrugs.“FiguredI’dtakeapeekaroundwhileIwashere,butreally,Ijustwantedtofuckyouinhisbed.”
Hesaysthatsoflippantlythatitalmostdoesn’tregisterwithme.
“WebrokeintoGabe’shouse,”Isay,“soyoucouldfuckmeinhisbed.”
“Yes.”
Iblinkathim,andIknowhe’sabouttolaughagainasheheadsmyway.“You’reinsane.”
“You’restartingtosoundlikeabrokenrecordwiththatshit,”hesays,grabbingmyarmandpullingmetohim.“IsitsowrongthatIwanttotakeyouupstairsandturnyououtwherethatassholelayshishead?Makeyoucome,overandover…makeyouscreammynameintohispillow?Iwanthisbedsheetstosmelllikeus…wantthemtosmelllikethatbeautifulpussy,theonehe’llneveragainknow,theoneheneverdeserved.Isthatreallysobad?”
“Yes.”Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisneck,gazingathim.“It’sdemented.”
“Youthink?”
“Absolutely,”Isay,“butthatdoesn’tmeanweshouldn’tdoit.”
Hegrins,leaningcloser,kissingmesoftlybeforewhispering,“IknewtherewasareasonItoleratedyou.”
Nowit’smyturntolaugh.
Grabbingmyhand(seriously,he’sholdingmyhandagain),Lorenzoleadsmeupstairs,straighttothebedroomwiththeterrace.Thesecondwe’reinside,he’salloverme.Lipsandfingertipsexplorehiddenplaces,kissingandtouching,asIpawathisclothes.Westripdownquickly,becausewhoknowshowlongwehavebeforeGabeshowsup,andheshovesmedownontothebed,onmystomach,notbeinggentleaboutit.Hestrokesmebeforeshovingbetweenmylegs,raisingmyassupoffthebedjustenoughtosliderightin.
“Fuck,”Imoanashefillsme.“Lorenzo.”
Hekissesmyback,bitingalongmyshoulderblades,suckingontheskin.Iknowhe’sleavingmarks,Icanfeelthesting,andIknowhe’sdoingitintentionally,likehe’smarkinghisterritory,butIdon’tmind.Gabewillneverseeit,butIlethimhavehismoment.Ifanybodydeservedit,itsureashellwouldbehim
“Rubyourclit,”hesays,hisvoicestrainedashethrusts.“Makeyourselfcome.”
“Prettysurethat’syourjob.”
“Aren’tIdoingenoughoftheworkhere?”
“Seriously?”Ilaugh.“Youlazysonofabitch.”
Ireachbeneathme,totouchmyself,buthebeatsmetoit,smackingmyhandaway.Histouchisrough,borderlinepainful,ashestrokesmyclithardandfast.Mybreathhitches,ashrillcryescaping.
Icomedamnnearinstantly.
“Ohgod.Fuck.”PleasurerushesthroughmeasIfistthesheets.“Christ,Itakeitback.You’renotlazy.Jesus…”
Hefucksme.There’snootherwaytodescribeit.Thisway,thatway,upsidedown,insideout,hefucksmeuntilmymusclesquakeandmybodyaches,mysensesalljumbled.I’mcoveredinsweat,utterlyexhausted,andIthinkithasprobablyonlybeenminutesbutitfeelslikehours
“Lorenzo?”
“Yeah?”
“Makeyourselfcome.”
Helaughs,mockingmeashesays,“Prettysurethat’syourjob.”
Iclencharoundhim,squeezinghiscock.
Hegroans.
Thatdoesit.
Hecomes.
Hedoesn’tpullout,cominginsideofme,gruntingashefillsme,thrustingafewmoretimesbeforestilling.Hislipsfindmybackagain,kissingalongthesweatyskin,asheslowlypullsout.Hestartstosaysomething,butIdon’tknowwhat,becausenoiseoutsidesilenceshim.
Thesoundofagateopening.
Thesoundofacardoor.
Gabe’shome.
“Fun’sover,”Isay,shovingLorenzooffofmetogettomyfeet,scramblingformyclothesasIthrowLorenzo’sathim.Wedress,andI’mlookingaround,tossingthecomforter.“Fuck,where’smyunderwear?”
“Leavethem,”Lorenzosays,grabbingmeasadoorunlocksdownstairs.“Wehavetogo.”
Iwanttoargue,butIcan’t,becauseweneedtogetoutofhererightnow.Lorenzoshovestheterracedooropen,motioningformetogo,andhefollowsmeoutside,againclosingthedoor.
“Shit.”Iglaredown.“Ihavetojump,don’tI?”
Lorenzodoesn’tanswer,becausehedoesn’thaveto.Themanswingshimselfovertherailing,justleaping,landingonhisfeetinthegrass.
Assholemakesitlookeasy
Me?Ifall.
Lorenzotriestocatchme,butthere’snohelpingitasIhurlthroughtheair,landingonmybackwithathud.Iflashhimallthegoods,sincemyunderwearisgone,nearlytakinghimdownwithme.
“You’reafuckingmess,”hesays,yankingmetomyfeetbeforeshovingmetowardthefence.“Nowyougettodoitagain.”
Idoitagain,becauseIhavenochoice,managingtolandonmyfeetthistimesincethedropislower.Lorenzolandsbesideme,nothesitatingatall,snatchingmyhandanddraggingmeawayfromtheplacebeforeanyoneseesus.
I’mdistractedashepullsmealong,staringdownatourhands.It’snotsomegushyinterlockingfingershandhold,butstill,he’sholdingmyhandyetagain,andthat’sjust…whoa
“Youknowhe’sgoingtofigureitout,”Isay,shakingoffwhateverfeelingsarestirringup,becauseit’sneitherthetimenortheplaceforit.“Imean,he’sgoingtofindmyunderweartangledupinhissheetsorsomething.”
“So?”
“So?Sohe’llknow.”
“Doesn’tmatter,”hesays.“What’shegoingtodo,callthepolice?Wah-wah,nothinggotstolen,butsomeonebrokeinandfuckedinmybed.”
Ilaugh,becausehe’sright.
Nobodywouldgiveashitbuthim.
It’slate,sowemakethetrekbacktoQueens.Lorenzofinallyletsgoofmyhandwhenwehitthesubway.Thehouseisdark,Leostillatwork,Melodyoffwherever,soit’sagainjustthetwoofus.
“Thankyou,”Isay,stallinginthefoyer.“I’mgladyoucamealong.”
“Yeah,me,too,”Lorenzosays,takingafewstepstowardthelibrarybeforepausing,likehe’swaitingforsomething.
“Ihadfun,”Isay,“andyouknow,whilethesexwasgreat,nothingtoppedgettingtoseeTheLionKing.Ithinktheonlythingthatwouldeverbebetterthanthatisgettingmydaughterback.”
Iheadforthestairs,needingtoshower,whenLorenzo’squietvoicestallsme.“Italkedtoher.”
Turning,Ilookathimashelingersinthehallway.“What?”
“Yourdaughter,”hesays.“Italkedtoher.”
Igapeathim.I’mnotsurewhattosay,whattothink,whattodo,soIjustrepeatmyself.“What?”
“AristovcalledwhileIwasatthewarehousethismorning,”hesays.“Shewaswithhim.”
“Andyoutalkedtoher?”
“Heputheronthephone,”hesays,“madeheraskforyou.”
IfeellikeI’mbeingsuffocated.Ithurtstobreathe.“Whatdidyousay?”
“Isaidyouweren’tthere,butyoumissher.ThenItoldhertoputherfatheronthephone,becausehewasusinghertotrytogetyourlocation,andIwasn’thavingthatshit.”
Noneofwhathe’ssayingwantstosinkin,likeIcan’tcomprehendit.Hetalkedtoher.Heheardhervoice.“Shewaswithhimthismorning?”
Lorenzonods.
HowmanytimeshaveIcalledKassian,desperateforamomentjustlikethat?
I’mgoingtocry.Iknowit.Icanfeelthetearsbuildingup,stingingmyeyes.SoIturnaway,walkingaway,goingupstairssoLorenzodoesn’thavetowatchwhenithappens.ChapterNine
“Seriously,bro?”
Iknow,thesecondIhearthosewords,exactlywhatLeo’sgoingtosaytome.Ilefttherestaurantwithoutpayingthecheck.Blahblahblahwhateverwhatever.Sureisn’tthefirsttimeit’shappened.
Iscrubmyhandsovermyface,groggy,tryingtowakeup,asIglancetowardthelibrarydoorwayatwheremybrotherlurks.I’mnotsurewhattimeitis,butit’sdarkinthehouse,eerilyquiet.
Ifellasleepsittinghereinmychair,givingScarletsometimetoprocessshitaftershewentupstairs.
“Didyouusemycreditcard?”Iask.
“You’redamnrightIdid,”hesays.
“Good.”Ishoveupoutofmychair,staggeringhisway.“Figuredyouwould.”
I’mnotgoingtostiffmylittlebrotherorfuckupthegoodthinghe’sgotgoingonatthatplace.Hekeepsoneofmycreditcardsonhim,foremergencies,andhealwaysjustswipesitwheneverIdothisshit.
Hegivesmehellforit,ofcourse,buthehandlesthingsliketherespectableadultheis.
Sonodininganddashing,technicallyspeaking,andtruthbetold,Iwould’veevenpaidforTheLionKing,buttheshowhadalreadystartedandticketswerenolongeronsale,soIsaidtohellwithit,weweregoinganyway.
“Whattimeisit?”Iask,headingpasthim,outintothehallway.
“Aroundeleven.”
Notevenmidnightyet.Huh
Igoupstairs,becauseI’mtootiredatthemomenttodealwithLeo’slecturing,butIstallwhenIreachthebedroomdoorway.
Mybed’sempty.
Aglancetowardthebathroomtellsmethere’snobodyinthere,either.
“Goddamnit,woman,”ImutterasIleanagainstthedoorframe,coveringmyfacewithmyhands.“Whycan’tyoumakeshiteasyforachange?”
Sighing,Ishoveawayfromthebedroom,headingbackdownstairs.
Scarlet’snothereanywhere.
She’sgotaheadstartonme,butI’vegotaprettygoodideawhereImightfindher.
IhopelikehellI’mwrong
LeowatchesmefromthelivingroomasIpulloutmykeys.“Whoa,you’redriving?”
“Yes.”
“Inthedark?”
“Yes.”
“Just…don’tkillanybody.”
“Nopromises.”
Hedoesn’tlikethatanswer,butIdon’tstickaroundandmakeitbetterforhim.He’sabigboy.Hecandealwiththeshit.
Idrivesouth,straightintoBrooklyn,onlysideswipingoneothercarasImakemywaytowardBrightonBeach.Scarletisimpulsive,andshe’sdesperatetoseeherdaughter,soI’mprettysureIgaveherjustenoughammunitiontohavehergunningforthesemotherfuckers.
Withoutagun,mindyou.
There’sathinlinebetweenballsyandboneheaded,andshe’stoeingthatlinegoingatthisalone.
IparkfarenoughawaynottodrawattentiontomycarandstrollthroughthedarknesstoAristov’shouse.It’sdark,nolightsoninside,nocarsparkedoutfront,soI’massuminghe’snothome.
There’snosignofScarlet,though,either.
Itmakesmenervous.
Idon’tlikeit.
Icircletheproperty,eyeingit,andstallwhenIreachthebackcorner,spottingaladderleaningagainstthesideofthehouse.Fuck.Mygazedartstothetopofit,tothesmalloffsetroofalongthesecondfloor,seeingherrightaway.
She’sjustsittingthere.
Alone
I’massumingthatmeansshedidn’tfindwhatshecamefor,whichmeansshe’sprobablyupsetatthemoment.Partofmewantstoleaveherhere,towalkawayandgivehersomespace,butmostofmeknowsshe’sactingfuckingcrazysoifIleave,Imayneverseeheragain.
Andallofmedoesn’tlikethatthought.
Beforeyouask—no,Idon’twanttalkaboutwhat’supwiththat,becausefuckyou
Strollingover,Igrabtheladder,climbingituptojoinher.Shedoesn’tlookatme.Shedoesn’tgreetme.ImightaswellbeCasper,thefriendliestfuckingghostyouknow,withthewayshedoesn’treacttomeatall.Shejustsitsthere,staringoffintonothingness,soIletherhavehersilenceasIsitdownbesideherontheroof.There’sawindowbehindus,andIturn,glancingthroughit.
Brokencrayonscoverasmalldeskrighttherewithastackofblankpaperandastuffedcattoybesideit.Lookstobeabedroom.Hers,I’massuming,butshe’snotinitatthemoment.
“Youfollowedme,”Scarletsaysquietly,“again.”
“It’skindofourthing,isn’tit?”Ipulloutmytin,grabbingthelastjointfromit.“Yourunfromme;Itrackyoudown.Wash,rinse,repeat…”
“Howlongisthatgoingtogoon?”sheasks.“Howlonguntilyoustopcomingforme?”
Look,Iknowthat’sasexjokewaitingtohappen,butnowisn’tthetimeforit,sokeepitinyourfuckingpants.
“Iguesswhenthestory’sover,”Isay.“Whenwehittheblahblahblahpicketfencebullshit.”
“Whatifweneverdo?”
“ThenIguesswespendtherestofourlivesbeingthecoyoteandthefuckingroadrunner.”
Shelaughs.It’sasadkindofsound,liketheshitisn’tfunny,butit’seitherlaughorcryandshe’scriedenoughtonight.
Ilightthejoint,passingittoher,andwesmokeitinsilence.Itburnstooquickly,goneinwhatfeelslikeablink,whichmeansourlittlemomentisoverandI’vegottogetheroutofherewhileIstillcan.
“Happybirthday,bytheway,”Isay.“Orhell,it’sprobablyaftermidnightnow.”
Sheturnsherhead,eyeswide.“Youknew?”
“Yeah,”Isay.“Kindofpissedyoudidn’tmentionit,though,thatyouwerejustgoingtoletitgobywithoutacknowledgingtheshit.”
“Didn’tseemimportant.”
“Fuckthat,”Isay.“Mybirthday’sAugusttheninth.Iexpectacakeandsomepresents.”
Shelaughs…again…butthistime,it’smoregenuine.“I’llrememberthat.”
“I’llevenletyouthrowmeaparty,”Itellher,standingup.“First,though,weneedtogetyouthefuckoutofherebeforeAristovshowsup.”
“Butwhatifheshowsupwithher?”
“Andletwhatever’sgoingtohappengodowninfrontofyourlittlePearl?Notagoodidea.It’sgoingtorequiresomecoordination,Scarlet,andthisshit?”Iwaveallaroundus.“Thisisn’tcoordinated.”
“But—”
“Theonly‘but’Iwantrightnowisyourbuttgettingthefuckoffthisroof.”
Shejuststaresatme.
“Chop-chop,”Isay,grabbingherarm,yankinghertoherfeet.“Yourprincessisinanothercastle,Scarlet.Timetokeepgoing.”
She’sstillstaringatme.
“What?”Iask.“Whyallthefuckingstaring?DoIgotsomethingonmyface?”
Ha-ha.
Fuckyou
“Thatwholethingsoundedalmostfatherly,”shesays.“Itwaskindofhot.”
Seriously?
“Look,asmuchasI’dlovetofuckyouinAristov’sbed,too,I’mgoingtoneedyoutocontrolyourhormones.We’lldealwithyourdaddyissueslater.”
Sherollshereyes,lookingquiteannoyed,butmyobnoxiousnessgetsherassdowntheladderandofftheroof,soI’mcallingitawin.
Ifollowherdown,leadingheroffofthepropertyandtomycardowntheblock.
“Youdrove?”sheasks,surprised,stallingonthesidewalk.
“Yes,”Isay.“ThequickestwayfrompointAtopointBisastraightlineandnottakingtrainsC,J,F,andafuckingcablikeadumbass,youknow?”
“Iknow,”shesays,holdingoutherhand.“Youwantmetodrive?”
“Unlessyoumaybewanttodietonight,it’sprobablyagoodidea.”
Idropthekeysrightinherpalm.
Shedrivesinsilence,awayfromtheAristovresidence,straighttomyhousebackinQueens.Shecutsthecaroffaftersheparksandstartstosaysomething,butherstomachcutsheroff.
Itgrowls.Loudly
Itsoundslikeanangrylion.
Sheclutchesherstomach.“GuessI’mstillhungry.”
“Comeon,”Isay.“There’splentyoffoodinthekitchen.Noneedtostarve.”
“You’renotsickofmeeatingyourgroceries?”
Iturn,lookingather,scanningher.“Gettingclose,butnotquiteyet.Askmeagaintomorrow.”
Shelaughs.
Scarletheadsstraightforthekitchenoncewe’reinside,scouringthroughcabinets,snatchingupafreshbagoftrailmixandchowingdownonitasshesays,“CanIaskyouaquestion?”
Ifthere’sonequestionIhatemost,it’sthatone.CanIaskyouaquestion?Whatawasteoffuckingwords…“Justask.”
“Allthisstuffwedidtoday,”shesays,motioningaroundwiththetrailmixbag.“Wasitjustbecauseyouknewitwasmybirthdayandyoudidn’twantmetospenditalone?”
“That’sastupidquestion.”
“Ineversaiditwasn’t,”shesays,pullingherselfupontothecounter.“I’dstilllikeananswer,though.”
Istrollover,sittingdowninachairatthetable,andglareatherassheswingsherlegs,herheelsbangingagainstacabinetbelowher.“DoIlooklikethekindofguywhowouldjusthumorsomeone?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Youlooklikeyoumightenjoytoyingwithpeople,”shesays,“intheplayingwithyourfoodbeforeyoueatitkindofway.”
“That’sdifferent,”Itellher,mymusclescoilingasherheelscontinuetohitthecabinet.THUMP.THUMP.THUMP.“I’mnotgoingtospendanentiredaydoingshitwithsomebodyifthey’renotsomebodyIenjoydoingshitwith.”
“Soyouenjoybeingwithme?”
“Sometimes.”
She’sstillkickingherfeet.
“Justsometimes?”
“Well,rightnow,I’mgettingprettyfuckingaggravated,”Itellher.“Isthereareasonyou’rebangingagainstmycabinetlikeit’sagoddamnbassdrum?”
Shestops,justlikethat,jumpingdownfromthecountertoshovethetrailmixbackaway.“Iwonderedhowlongyou’dtolerateit.”
“Seriously?”
Sheshrugs,lookingatme.
Playingwithherfood
That’swhatshe’sdoing.
TakingapagerightoutofLeo’sbookandpressingmybuttonsintentionally,likeshethinksIwon’tshoother.
Fuckyou,overthere,shakingyourheadatme.Iwill.JustbecauseIdon’tdoesn’tmeanIwon’t.JustbecauseIhaven’tdoesn’tmeantit’llneverhappen.
“I’mgoingtobed,”Isay,shovingoutofthechair.
“Withoutme?”
“Fuckyou.”
Shelaughs,followingmeoutofthekitchen,notputoffatallbymyattitudeasshejoinsmeinbed.
***
Sevenismunchingonacarrot
Hegnawsawayatit,likehe’sgoddamnBugsBunny,sittingonthetopofacrateofgunsinthewarehouse.Secondmorninginarow,wefindourselveshere,thistimeforadeliveryoforanges.
Ishouldcountthem.
Ialwayscountthem.
ButIforgottoinformThree,tolethimknowtocomedoinventory,andI’mnotinthemoodtodoitmyself.It’stediouswork.AndScarlet,well…Ileftherinbedagain,sleepingsohardshewassnoring.
Didn’tfeellikewakingher.
Imean,partofmefeltlikesmotheringherwithapillow,maybe,butIlefthersnoringaway,notdisturbingherslumber.
Reachingintomypocket,IpulloutmyphoneandtossittoSevenwithoutwarning.Heattemptstocatchit,buthe’stoofaroff.Ithitsthefilthyconcretewithathud.Myfault,sinceIcan’treallyjudgedistances.Couldbethreefeetfromme.CouldbethewholewayinfuckingTahiti.Hardtotell.
“CallThree,”Isay,“andtellhimtocomecounttheseoranges.”
Sevengrabsthephone.“Yes,boss.”
Ireachintomypocket,topulloutmytin,andflipitopen.Empty.Iglareatit,havingforgottentorollmorejoints,andsnapitbackclosed,shovingitaway.“I’llberightback,Seven.I’mheadingtothecarforamoment.”
Iwalkoutofthewarehouse,leavinghimthereonmyphone,andmakeitbarelyhalfwaydownthealleybeforecomingtoanabruptstop.Myfeet,they’renotmovinganymore,mygazefixedstraightahead,rightattheendofthealleywhereafamiliarmanstands.
Aristov
Myinstinctistoreachformygun.Igrabaholdofit,butIdon’tpullitout.No,somethingstallsme.I’mnotentirelysurewhatthatsomethingis,butIletitgoforthemoment,remainingcalm.
Idon’tmoveanycloser,andhedoesn’tapproachme,bothofusjuststandinghere.
“Boss,Threesaidhewas—”
Sevenstepsoutofthewarehouse,freezingwhenheseeswhatIsee.
“Threesaidwhat?”Iask.
“Hesaidhewasonhisway,”Sevensays,hisvoicelow.“He’llbehereinaminute.”
“Good.”
Istrollawaythen,becausefuckit,I’mnotintimidated.AlittleputoffbyAristov’spresence,wonderinghowhefoundthisplace,buthedoesn’tscareme,personally,soIwalkrightuptohim.
“MisterScar,”hesays,greetingme.“Imustadmit…Iexpectedmore.”
Iglanceatthewarehouseashemotionstowardit.It’snon-descript,unassuming,lookinglikeapieceofshit,butitdoeseverythingIneedittodo,andIgotitforcheap,sowhatmorecouldIaskfor?
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Iask.
“Iwasintheneighborhood,”hesays.“Quitethecoincidence,isitnot?”
“Idon’tbelieveincoincidences.”
“Thatisashame,”hesays.“Iamabigfanofhappyaccidents,myself.”
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Iaskagain.“I’mnotreallyinthemoodforchit-chat,sospitoutwhateveritissoIcangoonwithmyday.”
“Iamcurious…wereyouatmyhouselastnight,MisterScar?”
“WhywouldIgothere?”
Iansweredhisquestionwithaquestion.
Theman’snotstupid.I’mwavingtheredflagofevasionoverhere.
“Youwillnotfindherthere,”hesays,notbeatingaroundthebushanymore.“Sheisgonenow.”
“Where’dshego?”
Asmiletugshislips.“Icouldaskyouthesame,couldInot?Seemswearebothhidingsomeone.”
“Oh,I’mnothidinganyone,”Itellhim.“LikeItoldDoodlebop,you’rewelcometocheckmypocketsifyou’dlike.Yousee,me?I’mnotarunner,noramIahider.I’mmoreofawolfthananarmadillo.”
Anotherroundofanimalmetaphors.
Cutmesomefuckingslackhere.
It’sstillearly.
What’simportanthere,incaseyouhaven’tdonethemath,isthemanmanagedtolocatemywarehouse,whichisjustastepawayfromfindingeverythingelse.NothingIownisinmyname,no…mostofit’sunderanalias.OliverAccardi.ButallitwouldtakeisasimplesearchofthispropertytostumbleuponeveryotherdeedIhave,includingtheonetomyhouseinQueens.
Youknow,whereScarlet’sat…
“Notinthemoodtostripsearchme,huh?”Iask.“Maybenexttime.”
“Nexttime,”hesays.“Areyoucertaintherewillbeoneofthose?”
“Prettygoddamnsure.”
Aristovglancesallaroundme,likehe’scontemplatingwhattodo.Beforehecandoanything,though,Threestrutsintothealley,interrupting.
“Ah,MisterJackson,”Aristovsays.“Ithasbeenawhile!”
“Notnearlylongenough,”Threegrowls.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Justsayinghellotoyourboss,”Aristovtellshim.“IthoughtIwouldgivehimonemorechancetoreturnwhatbelongstomebeforeIstarthelpingmyselftowhatdoesnot.”
Three’seyesnarrow.“Isthatathreat?”
“Doesitsoundlikeone?”Aristovasks.“IammerelysayingifIdonotgetwhatIwant,Imayhavetosettleforsomethingelse.Infact,thereisaprettybrunettealreadyonstand-by,asexylittleonewecallLexie…sheisnotmyMorgan,butIsupposeIcanmakedowithasubstitutefornow.”
Threelooksdamnclosetosnapping,abouttolungeattheguyforthat,whichiswhatAristovwants,soyeah…nothappening
“Three,”Isay,“gettowork.”
“Yes,sir,”hemutters,makinghiswayintothewarehouse.
“Gohelphim,Seven,”Iorder,knowingtheman’sstilllurkingbehindme,“sowecangetoutofhere.”
“Yes,MisterPratt,gohelpyourfriend,”Aristovchimesin.“Iamsureyourwifewillbehappytohaveyouhomeearly.Lovelywoman,thatone.”
“Whatdidyoujustsay?”Sevenasks,steppingcloserinsteadofgoingaway.
“Isaidsheisalovelywoman.”
“Go,Seven,”Iorder.“Now.”
Sevenlistensthattime,stormingintothewarehouse.
“Threateningaman’sfamilydoesn’tmakeyouabiggerman,”Isay.“Itmakesyouadisgrace.”
“DoyouthinkIcareaboutthenamesyoucallme?”heasks.“Besides,itisnotathreat.Idonotmakethreats.Iamamanofmyword.”
“Yourwordbeing…?”
“Iwilldounimaginablethingstothatwoman,lovelyornot.Itwouldnotbehard.Sheisverytrusting.Mostwomenare.ButIwillleaveheralone,Iwillleaveyouallalone,ifyoureturnmyMorgan.”
“She’snotyours.”
“Doyouthinksheisyours?”
“Ididn’tsaythat.”
“Sowhydoesitmattersomuchtoyouwhetherornotsheismine?”
Idon’tanswerthat,becausefuckhim.
Idon’towethismanagoddamnexplanation.
“Iwillgiveyouachancetothinkonit,”hesays,takingastepback,“butyourchancewillnotlastlong,sothinkquickly,MisterScar.”
Heleaves,disappearingfromthealley,justasSevenburstsbackout,unabletocontainhimself.Iknowhewasstilllistening.It’swrittenalloverhisface.
“Goahead,”Isaybeforehecanevenask.“Checkonyourwifeandmakesurehedoesn’tshowupthere.”
“Thanks,boss,”Sevensays,hisstepsbriskasherushesaway.
Istrollbackintothewarehouse,findingThreesittingexactlywhereSevenhadbeenearlier,munchingononeofSeven’scarrots.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iaskhim.
“Imaginingthatjackassdyingahorribledeath.”
“That’sallwellandgood,butthere’sstillworktobedone,”Isay,“solet’scountthesefuckingorangessowecanallgohome.”ChapterTen
Therewasatime,lessthanayearago,whenthelittlegirlstillbelievedinfairytales.Notthosecrazyonesfromthestorybooks,no…shebelievedinthosehappily-ever-after,badguysarepunishedastheheroesperseverestories,theonesfromthecartoonshermotherwatchedwithher.
ShelovedCinderella.ShelovedSnowWhite
Princesseswerepretty,andhappy,andkind.
Butmorethanallofthat,morethananythingelse,thelittlegirlreallylovedToyStory
BelikeBuzzandWoody
Shethoughthertoyswerereal,thattheyhadfeelingsandcamealive,too,whenshewasn’tlooking,butallthosemonthslater,shewasn’tsureanymore.
BecauseBusterhadn’tmovedatallfromthemantle.Thelittlegirlcouldn’tsavehim,buthewasn’tsavinghimself.
“Bye-bye,Buster,”shewhispered,beingoh-so-quiet,standinginthedoorwaytothedeninthedarkness,astheTinManslepthunchedoverinachairbythefire.
Shegavethebearonelastlookbeforegoingbacktothebedroomtheycalledhers.
Itwasthemiddleofthenight.Alittlebitofsnowcoveredthegroundoutside,theskycloudy,theairsocolditfoggedupherwindow.Sheshiveredassheshoveditopen,makingafacewhenitmadeascreechingsound,likegrindingmetal.LikearustedTinMan
Shewasscared—soscared—butshedidn’tletitstopher.Hermothertoldhertonameherfears,soshecalleditBuzzLightyear.Climbingoutofthewindow,ontothesmallroof,shecrawledalongit,teethchattering.Itwasonlythesecondstory,butshefeltlikeshewaswayupinthesky.Butstill,shesatdown,scootingtotheedge,andtookadeepbreath.
“BelikeBuzz,”shewhisperedtoherself.“Hecanfallwithstyle.”
Ittookheronlyamomenttogatherthecouragetojump—ormorelikeroll,justtuckingandfallingintoasmallsnowdriftonthegrassbelow.Shecringed,landingwithathud,herwholebodyhurting,butshetriedtobequietsonobodywouldhearher.
Herarmstung,andherheadfeltallwoozy,butshegottoherfeetandstartedwalking,headingawayfromthepalaceshehated.
Thelittlegirlhadnoideawhereshewasgoing,noideawheretheTinManevenlived.Butsheremembereditwasjustoneroadtothebeach,soshewentthatway,withnothingmorethantheclothesonherbackandthered-coloredmoneytheCowardlyLionhadgivenher.
Shewalked…andwalked…andwalked,walkingforever,freezingcold,hernoserunning,herfingersnumb,beforeshefinallycameupontheboardwalk.Nobodywasoutthereatthathour.Thefewpeopleshepassedalongthewayweretoobusytoevennoticeher.Itwassodark,andshewasstillsoscared,butshekeptgoing,walkingtotheonlyplacesheknewaroundthere.
Passingthesignsthatsaidthebeachwasclosed,shewalkedouttotheshoreline,thecoldwatertouchinghershoes.
Wherewasshesupposedtogonow?
“Hey,youthere,”avoicecalledout,lightflashingherdirection.“Whatareyoudoing?”
Thelittlegirlturned,seeingamanapproaching—amanwearingablueuniform.Apoliceofficer.
“You’renotsupposedtobehere,”hesaid,comingcloser.
Uh-oh
Panicked,sheturnedandran,sprintingdownthebeach.Themangavechase,shoutingforhertostop,butshekeptrunningsohardherlungsburnedastheairslappedherface.Hewasastrangerinthedark,andhermotherhadwarnedheraboutthose.Hide&Seek.Frantically,thelittlegirllookedforsomewheretohide,butshedidn’tmakeitfarbeforehecaughther.Hegrabbedherarm,sendingherintoevenmoreofapanic.
Thelittlegirllashedout,swingingandfighting,kickingtheofficerintheanklebeforetryingtobitehim.Hesubduedher,pinningherarmsathersides,asheradioedforbackup.
“Letmego!”sheyelled.
“Jesus,kid,calmdown,”hesaid.“You’renotintrouble,sorelax,okay?”
“Letmego!”shedemanded,yetagain,stillstruggling.“Ijustwannagohomeagain!”
“Thenrelax,”hesaid,“andIcantakeyouhome.Justtellmeyourname.Canyoudothat?”
Sheshookherhead.Shewasn’tusingherwordsforhim.Hewasastranger.Strangerdanger
“Thentellmeyourparents’names.”
Nothing.
“Tellmewhereyoulive.”
That,shedidn’tknow
“You’vegottotellmesomething,kid,”theofficersaid.“Anythingatall.”
“Iwannagohome,”shewhispered.“There’snoplacelikehome.”ChapterEleven
“Whatchathink?”
Iglancetowardthedoorwayofthebedroomatthesoundofthatquestion,seeingMelodystandingthere.Shetwirls,wearingaflowinglittleblackdressandblacktights,herlipsbrightred,amatchingbowinhercurledblondehair.Mygazescansher,settlingonherfeet,onafamiliarpairofredLouboutinpumps.
Mystomachsinks.
“Youlookgorgeous,”Isay,becauseit’strue.Thegirlisstunning.“What’stheoccasion?”
“Leo’stakingmeouttocelebrate,”shesays.“It’sourmet-iversary.”
“Yeah?How’dyoumeet?”
“IwaswalkingthroughtheparkoneafternoonwhenthebeatofanoldTupacsonggreetedmyears,playingfromhisphone.Itwasloveatfirstsound.Imean,ofcourseitdidn’thurtthathewasgorgeous.Whoa…secondIsawhim,Iwashis.Toparaphrasethelategreat—itwasjustlikeAladdin,bitch…would’vegivenhimanythingheaskedfor.”
Ilaugh.“That’scute.Youtwo…you’recute.”
“Right?Ithinkso,too.”Shegrins,leaningagainstthedoorframe.“So,whataboutyouandLorenzo?What’sthestory?Where’dyoumeet?”
“Ithoughthetoldyouthestory.”
“AllIknowisyoupulledaCinderellaonhim,”shesays.“He’snotexactlyknownforofferingdetails.”
“Ah,yeah…wemetatashittylittlebar.”
“Drunkenhook-up?”
“Morelikeaseriouslapseinjudgment.”
Hereyeswiden.“Ohno,regrets?”
“Abouthim?No.”Istretchmybarelegsoutalongthecoldwood.I’msittingonthefloorbesidethebed,mybackagainstthewallasmyphonecharges,wearingonlyanoversizedwhitet-shirtandunderwear.Doesn’tbotherme,anditdoesn’tseemtobotherMelody,either,myalmostnakedness,soI’mnotinarushtodoanythingaboutit.“Imisjudgedhim,figuredhewasjustlikealltheothersI’vemet,soItookhiswallethomefromthebarinsteadofhim.”
Thoughtitwasimpossible,buthereyessomehowwidenevenmore.“What?”
“Ipick-pocketedhim.Hecaughtme,though,putmethroughsomehellforit,butitworkedout,Iguess,sinceheeventuallytookmehomewithhim.”
“That’s…wow.”
“Sono,Idon’tregretit,butman,howstupidwasI,thinkingI’dgetawaywiththat?”
Sheshakesherhead,pushingawayfromthedoor.“You’reabrave,bravesoul,Morgan,abraversoulthanI.FirsttimeImetLorenzo,Iwasafraidtoevengonearhim.”
“Becauseofhisscar?”
Shescoffed.“No,becauseofhowhelooksatpeople,namelyhowhelookedatme.”
“How’sthat?”
“LikeI’mTupacandhe’sBiggie.”
“Ah,likeyoumightbehisenemy.”
Iknowthatlook.
Hehasgivenittomeatimeortwo.
It’snotevenreallyalookofanger.It’sablankstare,devoidofeverythingimaginable,likehe’strappedinhisheadsomewhere.Cold,andcalculating,likehe’splottinghowtoremoveyoufromhislife.Nothingpersonalaboutit,justbitch,begone
“Bingo!That’stheone!”Shesmilesagain,turningaround.“Anyway,Leoshouldbehomesoontopickmeup,sooffIgotoawaitmychariot.”
“Havefun,”Icallout.“Happyanniversary.”
Shegoesdownstairs,andIsithereforamomentbeforepickingupmyphone.Thereareonlyafewminutesofairtimeleftonit,maybetenatmost,whichmeansIeitherneedtorefillitsoonorbuyanotherinordertocontinuethistiresomeroutine.
Idon’twanttodoeitheroption.LasttimeIboughtminutes,Ivowedthatwasit…IwouldhavemydaughterbackbeforeIranoutoftimeagain.
Iwantthistobeover.
Whyisn’titoveryet?
Sighing,Idialthenumber,bringingthephonetomyear,listeningasitringsandringsandrings,ignoringthevoiceinthebackofmymindthatbegsmetohangup.Afterthefifthring,hefinallyanswers,greetingme.“Ah,prettygirl,Iwasjusttalkingaboutyou.”
“Ibet.”
“Iwas,”hesays.“Nomorethananhourago.Allgoodthings,ofcourse.Iwouldneversayabadwordaboutyou.Promises.”
“Yeah,right.”
Helaughs.“Thatistwicenowyouhavespoken,pussycat.Youmustbefeelingchattytoday.”
Isaynothing,tiltingmyhead,tuckingthephonebetweenmyearandmyshoulderasIpickthepolishfrommyfingernails.Icantellhe’sinagoodmoodforsomereason,whichtendstobeterrifyingwithKassian,butthenagain,itmightbemychancetoweaselsomethingoutofhim.
Whenhe’sinagoodmood,hegetssentimental,andheusedtoopenuptome.Sadly,though,itwasalsothosemomentswhenIlearnedwhatacruel,disturbingmanhecouldbe.
“Ah,donotgomuteonmenow,”Kassiansays.“Tellmewhatisonyourmind.”
“I’mjust…tired,”Iadmit.“I’msotiredofdoingthiswithyou.It’sexhausting.It’salmostbeenayear.”
“Iknow,”hesays.“Iamtired,too.Ihavebeenchasingyouforalongtime,prettygirl.”
“Toolong,”Iwhisper.
“Toolong,”heagrees.“Tellme,areyouhappy?”
Idon’tanswerthat.
I’mnotsurewhyhe’sasking.
He’snevercaredaboutmyhappinessbefore.
“Areyou?”heasksagain.“Youcantellme.Iwouldliketoknow.Areyouhappywithyourlife?”
“I’dbehappierifIhadmydaughter,Kassian.”
“Iamsureyouwouldbe,”hesays.“Only,youdonotwantmealongwithher.No,youseemtohavedecidedyouwanthim.”
Him.Lorenzo.
Iknowthat’swhohemeans.
“It’snotlikethat,”Iwhisper.
“Tellmewhatitislikethen,”hesays.“Isthiswhatyouwant?Doesyourlittlescarredplaythingmakeyoufeellikeawoman?Doeshetakeyouintohisbedandfuckyouasyoucry?Doeshetellyouhowbeautifulyourtearsare?Doeshemakeyoufeelsafeinhiswhitehousewiththiscutelittlepicketfencearoundit?Doyoufeelathomehere,prettygirl?”
Coldnessrushesthroughme.Sicknessswellsinmystomach,bileburningmythroatasthosewordshitme.Ohgod
Iexhaleshakily.
Hedescribedthehouse.
“Ijustwanttoknowifyouarehappy,”hesaysquietly,“becauseifyouare,Iamgoingtoverymuchenjoydraggingyououtofthisfuckingplaceandtakingyoubackhomewithme.”
Aloudchimeechoesallaroundme.Iflinch,gasping,droppingthephoneaspanicfloodsmysystem.Thedoorbell.That’sthefirsttimeI’veeverheardit.Nobodyevenbotherstoknockhere.
Theclickingofhighheelstrailsthroughthedownstairs,headinginthedirectionofthefrontdoor.NoNoNo…
Shovingupfromthefloor,Irunoutofthebedroom,screaming,“Don’topenit!Melody!Ohgod,getawayfromthedoor!”
Sheturnstowardme,startled,butit’stoolate.It’stoolate.Herhandisontheknobandit’salreadyhalfwayopenbeforesherealizeswhatI’msaying.Shetriestocloseitagain,reactingfast,buthe’smuchfasterMuch,muchfaster.Somethingslamsagainstthedoor,shovingitopenthewholeway,nearlyknockingMelodydownasshestumblesafewsteps,barelymanagingtostayonherfeet.
Hereyesdarttothedoor,hervoiceloud,defensive,asshesays,“Excuseme,canIhelpyou?”
Ifreezeonthestairs,halfwaydown,myfeetunabletomoveanymore,everythinginsideofmescreamingtogotheotherway.GobackRetreatRun,motherfuckerRunawayfromhim.Icouldsprintupstairs,makemywayoutthewindow,climbontotheroof,maybeevengetawayfromhere.
ButIcan’t.Ican’tmove.Ican’trun.
Iblink,andhe’sthere,standinginthefoyerofLorenzo’shouse.He’sdressedimpeccably—straightblacksuit,hairslickedback,shoesglisteningasthelighthitsthem.Melody’stooshockedtoreactrightaway.Shegapesathimashesmiles,stoppingjustinchesfromher,hiseyesrakingherbodyfromheadtotoe.Hisgazestallsatherfeet,attheredheels,andheletsoutalightlaugh,thesoundnearlybucklingmyknees,beforehelooksbackupagain.
CommonsensekicksintoMelody,ormaybeit’sjustahealthydoseoffear,becauseshetakesastepback,puttingabitmorespacebetweenthem.
It’snotenough.
It’stoolate.
He’stoodamnfast.
Hegrabsherbeforeshecanrun,histhicktattooedhandswrappingaroundherthroat,squeezing,stoppingherdeadinhertracks.Melodygraspshisarms,hishands,tryingtoripthemawayasshestruggles,eyeswidewithterror.Hisgripissostrongheliftsherup,ontohertiptoes.
“Kassian!”Icryout,thesoundofmyvoicedrawinghisattention.Hisgazedartsmyway,glidingalongthestairs,hiseyesmeetingmine.
HeloosenshisholdonMelodyjustenoughthatshecanbreathe,buthedoesn’tletgoentirely,no…instead,heswingsheraround,makingherstumbleashedragshertohim,herbackagainsthischest.Onehandstaysonherthroat,gripping,whilehisotherarmwrapsaroundher,hishandrestingagainstherstomach,keepingherpinnedthere.
Shestruggles,tryingtobreakfree,buthe’sunwavering,unrelenting
“Morgan,”shewhispers,voicetrembling,tearsfillingherwideeyes.
“Just…relax,okay?Staycalm,”Itellher,myeyesturningtoKassianagainasIsay,“You’llbeokay.”
Hissmilegrows.
IhopelikehellIdidn’tjustlietoher.
Itakeastepfurtherdown,andanother,andanother,holdingmyhandsoutinfrontofmeinsurrender,becauseIknowhedoesn’ttrustme.
Notnow.
Probablynoteveragain.
IbrokeanychanceoftrustwhenIran.
“Youdonotlookhappy,prettygirl,”hesays,scanningme.“Butyoudolookcomfortable.”
I’mverymuchawareI’mnotwearingpants.Thegoodsarecovered,butnotbymuch.Ireallydon’tneedthatpointedoutrightnow.Thisispainfulenoughtodealwith.
“Tellme,doeshefuckyouinfrontofeveryone?Doesheletthemseethethingshedoestoyou?Doesheliketowatch?”
“Kassian,canyoujust—?”
“No!”heshouts,hisangerechoingthroughthedownstairsofthehouse,ashegripsMelodytighter,cuttingofftheairtoherlungs.“Answerme.Now.”
“Hedoesn’t,”Isayrightaway.“Hehasn’t.”
KassianloosenshisholdonMelodyagain,buthe’sclearlyfurious,soIdon’tknowhowlongthisisgoingtogoonbeforeheactuallychokesher.
“Canyoulethergo?”
“WhyshouldI?”
“Becauseshehasnothingtodowiththis.”
“So?”
“So,justlethergo.She’snotwhoyouwant.”
“No,sheisnot,”hesays,pullinghertohimrougher,hishandshifting,cuppingherchin,forcingherheadupsohecanlookathertear-streakedface.Kassianonlylikesbrunettes.Shedoesn’tknowhowluckysheis.“Butsheisstillverypretty,thisone.Melody,yes?Ibetyoumakethemostbeautifulnoises.Mymenwouldenjoymakingyousing.”
Shewhimpers,trembling,provinghispoint.
“Kassian,”Isayagain,desperate.Icanpracticallyseehisthoughtprocessrightnow,andit’salljustgettingworsebythesecond.He’lltakeher.Iknowhewill.ButMelodywon’tlastadaywiththoseguys.There’stoomuchgoodness,toomuchemotion,insideofher.They’llkillhertryingtodrawitallout.“Lethergo.”
“Why?”
“Becauseyoucamehereforme,remember?”Isay,approaching,stoppingjustwithinreach.Mylegsarewobbly,notwantingtobethisclosetohim,butIdon’thaveachoice,notreally.He’snotwalkingoutofherealone.Onewayoranother,he’stakingsomeonehome,soifit’snotme,it’sgoingtobeMelody,andIcan’tletthathappen.Ican’tlethimhurther.“Look,I’mrighthere.”
HelooksatmewhenIsaythat.
AndIknowwhathe’sthinking.
He’sthinkinghecanjusttakeusboth.
He’sthinkingthere’snobodyheretostophim.
He’sthinkinghowheknowsI’mnotgoingtolethergoalone,thatIwon’tthrowhertothewolves,becausesomanytimeshe’swatchedmetakethebruntofhisviolencetospareothergirls.
He’sthinkingtoomuch…waytoomuch…andthat’stoodamndangerous.Ineedhimtojustreact.
Itakeadeepbreath,blurtingoutwordsonanexhale.“Hedoesn’tfuckmeinfrontofotherpeople.Youknowwhythatis,Kassian?Becausehedoesn’tneedtoinordertofeellikeaman.Unlikeyou,he’sstrongenoughtohandlemeallbyhimself.”
Iregretit…oh,holyfuck,doIregretit…butIcan’ttakeitback.Iwon’ttakeitback.Theangertakesoverjustlikeitdidthatnight,thenighthetriedtokillme,thenightIdamnneardied.HeshovesMelodyawayfromhim,pushingherhard.Shestumbles,tripping,cryingoutwhenshehitsthefloor.Ican’thelpher,though.No,she’sonherown.
Kassiangrabsmebymyneck,yankingmetowardhim.Myvisionblursrightaway.Hedoesn’tcutoffmyairflow.No,he’snotplayinggames,nottryingtomakemeuncomfortable.Instead,hisfingerspressjusttheperfectspottoblockthebloodflowingtomybrain.Igolightheadedinstantly,grabbinghiswrists.Fromthecornerofmyeye,IseeMelodygetupandrun,butIcan’tmuchdwellonwhat’sgoingtohappennow.I’vegotthirtysecondsatmostbeforeitallgoesblack.
Kassiandrawsmecloser,hislipsabreathawayfrommylips,theworldaroundmefadingashewhispers,“Stupidlittlesuka,youwillalwaysbemine.”
***
Almostayearago,onawarmsummernight,KassianAristovtookmylife.
Ihadgoneunconsciouswithinseconds,ashegrippedmythroat,hittingmyheadwhenIslammedintothefloor.Thedoctors,theycouldn’tbecertain,buttheysuspectedhe’dheldonforminutes,lettinggojustinthenickoftime.Intheliteralsense,Imanagedtosurvive,butthatdoesn’tchangethefacts.
Thatnight,Kassiantookmylife.Andnow,monthslater,healmostdiditasecondtime.
WhenIcometo,consciousnessrushingthroughme,rousingmefromthedarkness,I’msurprised…surprisedI’mstillalive.It’scold,andI’mshivering,shaking,myteethchatteringasgoosebumpspebblemyskin.TherigidfloorbeneathwhereIlayfeelslikeit’scoveredinfrost.TheairsmellsstaleasIbreatheitin.
Everyinchofmefeelsheavy—tooheavy.Isitup,mymusclesprotesting,andfuck,mythroatissore,mymouthsodrythatmyvoicefeelshoarse.
Isenserightawaythatithasbeenlongerthanafewminutes.Hours,maybe.
Everyblinkisexaggerated,myheadfoggy,likesomethingflowsthroughmybloodstream,weighingmedown.
Drugged
Must’veknown,whenIcameto,Iwouldn’thavecomequietly.
Myheadrattles,swimming,asthefaintestthumpingnoiseechoesfromabove.Eveninmygroggystate,IrecognizewhereIam.
Thebasement
I’vebeenherebefore,undertheground,beneathLimerence,inthisfilthyconcretedungeon.
Beenherewaytoomanytimes.
Itrytoshiftaround,metalclangingasheavinesspressesagainstmychest.Reachingup,feelingaroundinthedarkness,myfingersgrazeoverthecoldmetalwrappedaroundmyneck,securedwithapadlock.
Hehasmechainedhere,likeananimal.
“Wakey,wakey,prettygirl.”
MybreathcatchesasIturntowardthesoundofthevoice,thechainclatteringagainsttheconcrete,echoingaroundus.It’shardtomakeoutmuchofanythingdownhere,butIcansensehisgazeonmeassomethingintheshadowsshifts
MyvoicecracksasIask,“WhyamIhere?”
Helaughs
Steppingcloser,closeenoughformyeyestoadjustandmakeouttheshapeofhim,hesays,“Stillsomuchthatstupidgirl.”
“Ithoughtyouweretakingmehome,”Iwhisper.“Nothere.”
Kassiancrouchesdowninfrontofme,eye-level,lookingmeintheface.Hesaysnothingforamoment.It’sunnerving.
Iswallowthickly,forcingbackaswellofemotion.
“Aw,mysweetpussycat,”hesays,reachingtowardme,nudgingmychinbeforehisthumbsweepsacrossmytremblingbottomlip.“Didyouthinkyouwouldjustawakeninmybed,alltuckedin,snugglingwithourpreciouslittlekitten?Thateverythingwouldjustbeforgiven?Forgotten?MaybeyouarestupiderthanIthought.”
Tearsburnmyeyes.Iknowwhatthisroomsignifies.It’ssinkorswimdownhere.Thisiswherehebreakspeople,hisownlittletwistedversionofbootcamp.Helocksyouinandputsyouthroughhell.Thegirlsattheclub,theyalwayscalledittraining.Youactup,yougobackthroughtraining,asifthisisjustsomeregularjob,likewewerebeingtaughttoruncashregistersinsteadofbeingforcedintosubmissionsohecouldsellusoff.
I’mnottalkingaboutsomeBDSMshit.Don’tgetmewrong.There’snothingevenremotelycatharticaboutwhathedoes.Hewantsyoutogonumb.Hewantsyoutogiveup.Hewantsyoucompliant,aprettylittlePlay-Dohbodythathecanshapeandformhoweverhewants.Afewhekeepsforhisbusiness,butmostaren’tseenaroundagain.Somehejustsellsofflikeproperty,whileothersneverevenmakeitoutofthisbasement.
‘Shecouldnotbetrained.’
Hesaidthataboutme,too.
Somegirlsbreakwithinhours.
Mosttakeafewdays.
Afteraweek,heusuallygrowstiredanddiscardsthem,buthe’sbeentryingtobreakmeforyears
“Soprettywhenyoucry,”hesaysquietlywhenthatfirstsilenttearstreamsdownmycheek.Hebrushesitaway,histouchtoogentle.Itfuckswithmybrain.“Shegotthatfromyou,oursweetkitten.Everytimeshecried,itremindedmeofyou.Thosesoft,shakybreaths.Thewayyoualwaysquivered.Shedidthat,too.Somedays,Icouldnotevenlookatherwithoutrelivingwhatyouputmethrough.”
“I’vedonenothingtoyou.”
“Youranfromme,”hesays.“Igaveyoueverything.Ievengaveyouapartofme.Yetyouran.”
“Youwerehurtingme.”
Heraiseshiseyebrows,lookinggenuinelycuriousasheasks,“WasI?”
Inod.
“Well,”hesays,staringatmeforamomentbeforecontinuing.“Isuppose,then,itmakesyouhappytoknowthatyouhavehurtmeback.”
“Ineverwantedto—”
HegrabsaholdofthechainaroundmyneckbeforeIcanfinish,hishandslippingbeneathit,twistingitinhisfist,tighteningittowhereitcutsoffmywords.Ican’tbreathe.Igrabhisarm,clawingatit,tryingtogethimtoletgo.
Mychestfeelslikeitburstsintoflames.Ohgod
“Youhavenotfeltmyhurtyet,butyouwill,”hesays,hisvoicelow.“BythetimeIamthroughwithyou,therewillbenothingleftforanyoneelse.”
Heletsgo,andIinhalesharply,visionblurring.I’mhyperventilating,tryingtocalmdown,buthe’sstillrightinfrontofme.
It’soverwhelming.
“Notthatanyoneelsewantsyou,”headds.“Especiallynotthatfreak.Evenhedoesnotwantyounow.Heusedyouupandnowheisdone.Youarenotworthittohim.”
“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,”Iwhisper.“Lorenzoisn’tlikeyou.”
SomethingflashesinKassian’sface.
Helaughsagain.
He’slaughingatme.
“Oh,pussycat,youwerenotfallingforhim,wereyou?Didyouthinkhewouldwanttokeepyou?Oh,thisiscute,suka.Yougavehimmypussy,andyouthoughtyoucouldgivehimmyheart,too?Youbelongwithme.Evenheseesthatnow.”
“You’rewrong.”
“HowdoyouthinkIfoundyou?HowdoyouthinkIknewwherehelived?Hetoldme,prettygirl…yourscarredlittleplaythinggaveyouuptoday.”
“You’relying.”
Hestaresatme,unwavering,ashereachesintohispocket,pullingoutacellphone.Afteramoment,hiseyesflickertowardit,andhereadsoutaphonenumber.Lorenzo’sphonenumber.
“Doyourecognizeit?”heasks.
Iglareathim.“Thatprovesnothing.”
Hepressesabuttonbeforeholdingthephoneup.Theharshglowinthedarknessmakesmesquint,andIblinkafewtimes,realizinghe’sshowingmeatextmessage.
14682LidenBlvd,Queens
Youwanther,takeher.
Leaveeveryoneelsealone.
“No.”Ishakemyhead,thechainclanging.“Noway,that’s…no.”
“Itisrighthereinfrontofyoureyes.”Heshovesthephoneintomyface,smackingmewithit.“Isthatnothisnumber?DidInotfindyouthere?”
“Yes,but…”Myheartisbatteringmyribcage.Ifeelsick.“Hewouldn’t.”
“Threateningeveryonehecaresformusthavedonethetrick,”hesays,anedgetohisvoice.“Becauseyou,suka,donotfallintothatcategory.Hewouldnotsacrificehisfamily,hisfriends,forapieceofused-uppussythathalfofthiscityhasfucked!”
Isnap,ashespitsthosewordsinmyface,hisangerslammingintome,fuelingmyown.Ismackthephoneoutofhishandandsenditflyingacrosstheroom,hittingtheconcreteface-down,theglowextinguishing,thetextmessagegone.“Ihateyou.”
KassianraisesupwhenIsaythat,toweringoverme.Iglareathiminthedarkness,refusingtobackdown,refusingtolookaway.
“Hatemeallyouwant,”hesays.“Idonotmind.Butuntilyoulovemeagain,suka,untilyoufinallylearnyourplace,youwillstayrightwhereyouare.Soitisinyourbestinterest,Ithink,tojustgivein…especiallysincebeingwithyourkittenrequiresgettingoutofhere.”
Hewalksaway,snatchinguphisphoneashegoes.Ihearhisshoesonthecreakywoodenstairsleadingoutofthebasement,intohisoffice,lightbastingthroughasthedooropens,musicassaultingmyears.
Isqueezemyeyesshut,toblockitout,beforeeverythingaroundmegrowsdarkagain.
Thereareatleastadozenlocksonthebasementdoor,allofwhichonlyhehasthekeystoopen.Theoddsareslimofgettingoutofherewithouthisblessing,whichbringsmetoacripplingrealization.
“Andsheneversawherdaughteragain,”Iwhispertomyself.“Theend.”ChapterTwelve
RememberbackatthebeginningofthisallwhenItoldyoutolistentoyourintuition?Yourthoughtscan’tbetrustedandyourheartwillfuckingbetrayyou,butyourgutisonetoughsonofabitch.Italwayssenseswhensomethingishappening.
Youjusthavetopayattention.
“Thegate’sopen.”
Sevenputsmycarinparkandcutstheengine,pullingthekeysfromtheignitionbeforeturningtome,hisbrowfurrowed.“Whatdidyousay,boss?”
Imotionoutthepassengersidewindow,towardtheunlatchedgateonthepicketfence,beforerepeatingmyself.“Thegate’sopen.”
“Iseethat,”hesays,hisvoicehesitant.“Doesthatmeansomething?”
“Itmeanssomeonecameorwentinahurry.”
Gettingoutofthecar,Iheadtowardthehouse,walkingrightthroughtheopengateonmywaytothesmallporch.Allseemsquietandstill.Thefrontdoorisunlocked,butfuck,isn’titalways?
Icertainlyneverlockit.
Sevenfollowsme,latchingthegateashecomes,rightonmyheelsasIstepintothehouse.Iglancearound,thatbadfeelingstirringinsideofme,risinguplikemygutispullingafuckingmutiny.There,onthefloorinthehallway,isapairoffamiliarredhighheels,toppledover,likesomeonekickedthemoffwhilerunning.
Dejavu
“Scarlet?”Icallout,myvoicesolouditechoesthroughthehouse.“Youhere?”
Noanswer
Iknowshegavethoseshoestomybrother’sgirlfriend,butlasttimeIsawthemhastilydiscarded,Scarletwasintrouble.Yeah,whatever,thetroublebackthenwasme,butthatlittlefactdoesnothingtopacifymybadfeeling.
“Checkupstairs,”ItellSevenasIreachbeneathmyshirt,grabbingmygun.“Seeifanyone’shere.”
Hehitsthestairs,noquestion,noargument,headingofftosearchthehouse
Iwalkdownthehall,steppingovertheshoesalongtheway.Thelivingroomandmylibraryarebothempty,nothingoutofplace.Reachingthekitchen,Ipause,seeingthebackdoorstandingwideopen.
Someoneranoutofhereinahurry.
IhearSevenapproachafteramoment,stallingbesideme,hiseyesfixedontheopenbackdoorashesays,“Thehouseisclear,nobodyhome.”
Shit
Isittoomuchtoaskforhertohavejustbeenasleep?
Shovingmygunaway,Isearchthroughmypocketsformyphone.
“Here,”Sevensays,retrievingit,handingitover,knowingexactlywhatI’mlookingfor.
Ihitafewbuttons,callingmybrother’snumber,listeningasitringsandringsandrings.Noanswer.Icallhisworknext,beinggreetedwarmlybythehostess.
“CanyoutellmeifLeoAccardiisthere?”
“Uh,yes,sir,”shesays.“He’sactuallyjustleaving.Wouldyouliketospeaktohim?”
“No,butcanyoupassamessagetohimforme?”
“Sure.”
“Tellhimhisbrothersaidtohurryhome.”
Ihangup,glancingatSeven,wholooksanxious.Notgood.IscanthroughmyphoneforMelody’snumber.I’venevercalledit…nevercaredtocallit…butIsaveditforarainyday.
Guessit’srainingonme,huh?
Ihitthebutton,dialingit,instantlyhearingthefaintestringtoneofsomeoldrapsongcomingfromupstairs.
Ihangup.Themusicstops.
“Yousureshe’snotupthere?”Iask,knowingtheanswerbeforeSevenevenconfirmsit.
“Positive.”
MygazescansthebackyardbrieflybeforeIclosethedoor,notsurewhattodoaboutthis.Somebullshitequationsarespinningaroundmyhead,puttingtwoandtwotogetheragain.
Idon’tlikewhatit’saddingupto.
Errrnnnttt,wrongfuckinganswer.
Igotowalkoutwhenmyphonerings.Leo
“Yeah?”Ianswer.“Youonyourwayhome?”
“Jesus,yes,whatthehellisgoingon?”heasks.“I’vegotlikefortymissedcallsfromoneoftheneighbors,sayingMelshoweduptherefreakingoutaboutsomemanbeingatthehouse?Doyouknowanythingaboutthis?Ladytriedtocallthecops,butMelmadehercallme.”
Iclosemyeyes,pinchingthebridgeofmynose.“Whichneighbor?”
“Thebluehouse,likethreedoorsdown,”hesays.“Mrs.McKinnon.Youknow,theelderlyladywhosegroceriesIsometimesget?”
No,Idon’tknow.I’veneverheardofthewoman.He’spracticallyMotherTheresa,isn’the?Thepatronsaintoffuckingfriendliness.Nextthingyouknow,he’llbeorganizingneighborhoodwatches,paintingpeople’sfenceslikewe’reallTomSawyerandhe’sthelittletwitgettingtricked,likedoingsomeoneelse’sdirtyworkisanhonor
“I’llseeyouwhenyougethome,PrettyBoy.”
“Butwait,what’shap—?”
Ihangup,notlettinghimfinishthatquestion,becauseIdon’thaveananswerforit.Ishovethephoneintomypocket,motioningtowardSeven.“Firecracker’shidingoutdownthestreet.Bluehouse,oldwoman,Leofeedsher…Idon’tknow.”
“Mrs.McKinnon?”
“Yeah.”
“I’llhandleit.”
Hewalksout,hisstepsdetermined,andIshakemyhead,runningmyhandsdownmyface.“Fuck.”
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Iheadtomylibrary.Mynervesarefuckingshot.Rollingasloppyjoint,Ilightitup,smokinginsilenceasIstandthere,infrontofthetable,waitingforthemtoreturn.
Melodyburstsinafewminuteslater,shriekinglikeabanshee,talkingsodamnfastIcan’tkeepup,yammeringaboutaguywithsomehandsandsomething,something,something…
Justasitseemsshe’sabouttofinish,Leorushesintothehouse,andthegirlstartsalloveragainfromthebeginning,somehowevenmorefranticnow.Leomanagestocalmherdown,andIgetthegistofit,hearingallIneedtoknow—theRussianbastardshowedupatmyhouseandnowScarletisgone.
I’mtryingtogetmythoughtsinorder,butmyheadisstartingtothrob.Thesepeopleareinmylibrary.There’scryingandpanicandblah,blah,blah…andmaybeitmakesmeanasshole,butIreallywishthey’dallshutthefuckup.IjustneedamomentofsilencesoIcanfigurethingsout.
Absently,Ireachoverontothetable,pickingupapuzzlepieceandtryingitinafewspots.
“Isheseriouslyworkingonapuzzlerightnow?”Melodyasks.“Seriously?”
“Ithelpshimthink,”Sevensays.
Usually,weshouldadd,becauseit’snotmuchhelpingatthemoment.Sure,Aristovmight’vehadenoughtimetodohisresearch.Hemight’vejusthappeneduponthisaddress.Butchancesaresomeonetoldhimwheretofindthehouse,spillingtheirgutsfasterthantheTauntaunonHothwhenHanSolosliceditopenwiththelightsaber.
Ifthatreferencedidn’tmakesensetoyou,gowatchEmpireStrikesBack
Pointherebeing,someonetattledlikealittlebitch.
“CallThree,”Isay,givinguponthatpuzzlepieceandinsteadtryinganother.“Tellhimtocomepaymeavisit.”
“Youthinkhehassomethingtodowiththis?”Sevenasks.
“Nothim,butmaybethegirl,”Isay.“Besides,I’mnotsureitevenmatters.Somebodyneedstoanswerforthis,sounlessyouwanttoclaimcredit,Seven,gethisassoverhere.”
“Yes,boss.”
Sevenleavestheroom.
“Weshould…gosomewhere,”Leosays.“Anywherebutheretonight.Gostayinthecity,getaway,trytoforgetthishappened.”
“ButMorgan,”Melodysays.“Wehavetodosomething!”
Icanfeelmybrother’seyes.Idon’tturnaround.Idon’tacknowledgewhateverlookhe’sgivingme.
“I’msureLorenzowillfiguresomethingout,”Leosaysfinally.“Andwhateveritis,weprobablydon’twanttobearoundforit.”
***
“Wait…wait…wait!”
BANG.BANG.BANG.
Ipullthetriggerbacktoback,nohesitation,nocalculation,nofuckingdeliberation.AssoonasIseeThree’sface,Ishoot.Thebulletsflythroughthelivingroomfromthesuppressedguninmyhand,fromwhereIsitonthestolencouchinthedarknesstowherehepoppedupinthedoorwayjustnow.Threethrowshishandsupinanattempttostopme,butotherwise,hejuststandsthere,frozen.Abulletripsthroughthewallbesidehim,anotherzoomingpasthim,slammingintothebanisterforthestairs,whilethelastonelandsGod-knows-where.
Seeingashowhe’snotcurrentlybleedingtodeath,I’mgoingtogooutonalimbandsayImight’vemissedmymarkthistime.
ThefourthtimeIpullthetrigger,thegunjams,completelylockinguponme.Isigh,sittingupstraight,forcingtheslidetotherear,lockingitsoIcanejectthemagazineandtrytoclearthechamber.
Can’tevenfuckingrelyongunsthesedays.
“You’vegotmaybeaminuteuntilIreload,”Isay.“Nowwouldbethetimetodosomething.”
Anormalpersonwouldrunrightnow,getthehellawaywhiletheyhadthechance.Asmartpersonwouldfindagunandshootme,quitefrankly,sincethiscertainlyqualifiesasself-defense.Butacrazypersonwouldjustfuckingstandthere,awaitingtheirfate.OneguessonwhatThreedoes.
Fuckinginsanity
“Look,boss,Idon’tknowwhathappened,butIsweartoyou,onmymother’slife,thatIhadnothingtodowithit,”Threesays,notmovinganinch,hishandsstillraisedinfrontofhimasIclearthechamber.“IpromisedyouyearsagothatIhadyourback,nomatterwhat,andImeantthat.IknowI’vemademistakes,soifyouwannakillmeforbeingameathead,goahead,butIrefusetogooutlikeI’mgoddamnJudas.”
Ireloadthemagazineandchamberaround,eyeingthegunasIsay,“Yousoundlikeyoubelievethat.”
“Becauseit’strue,”hesays.“Iwouldneverbetrayyou,norwouldIstandbackandletanyoneelsefuckyouoverthatway.IfIthoughtforevenasecondthatLexiewouldspill,Iwould’veblownherbrainsoutmyself.”
“You’rethinkingwithyourdick.”
“No,I’mfollowingmygut,”hesays.“Shewantsthatratbastardtopayjustasmuchaswedo,andshe’sourwayin.Shewouldn’thavedonethis.”
Ipointthegunathim,aimingcentermass,fingeronthetrigger,andhestilldoesn’trun.“Isthatwhatyourguttellsyou?”
“Yes,”hesays.“Soifyou’regonnashootme,fine,butusethegirl.Shewantstohelp,andshecan.”
Istareathim,farpastthepointwhereanormalpersonwouldgrowuncomfortable…which,withmyface,isafewseconds,atmost.Threedoesn’twaver,though.Hejuststandsthere,likeamanondeathrowwhohascometotermswithhisimpendingexecutionandjustwantstotelltheworld,onelasttime,thathedoesn’tdeservetodie.Whetherornothe’sinnocentisirrelevant.We’reallguiltyofalotofshit.
Scarlet’sathiefwhosometimesusedherpussytosurvive.
Seven’saformercrookedcopwhotookbribesfromthemob.
Me?I’veprobablykilledmorepeoplethanTedBundybutwithonlyafractionofthecharm.
“Isitrainingoutside?”Iask.
Threeshakeshishead.“Notacloudinsight.”
Huh
Slowly,Ilowerthegun,settingitonthecushionbesidemeasIrelaxbackonthecouch.
“Boss,ifImay?”Sevenchimesinfromwherehestandsnearthewindow.Iwavetowardhim,motioningforhimtocontinue.“Look,Iwanttoprefacethisbysayingdon’tshootme.”
That’sneveragoodwaytostartaconversation.
“Ijustthinkmaybeweoughttotakeaminutetoreallythinkaboutwhatwe’redoinghere,”Sevencontinues.“I’mnotsureit’sagoodidea.”
“Whichpart?”
“Allofit,”hesays.“WewentupagainsttheItaliansforterritory,forreputation,totakeoveralotofthebusiness,anditworked.They’reterrifiedofyou,andwe’vemadealotofmoneyoffofthem.ButwiththeRussians,it’sdifferent…you’restartingawaroverawoman,andhistorytellsusthatneverworksoutgoodforanyman.”
Iturnmyhead,lookingatSeven,seeingaflickeroffearinhiseyes,likehethinksImightactuallyshoothimforhisopinion.
Imean,yeah,Imight,butIprobablywon’t.
He’salwaysbeentheonetoplaydevil’sadvocatewithmotivesandconsequences.
Mustbethecopsideoftheman.
“It’snotaboutthewoman,”Isay,andIknowI’mfuckinglyingthemomentIsayit,becauseitdamnsurefeelslikeit’sabouther.Ican’tshakethesicknessinmystomach,thetightnessinmychest,knowingwhereversheis,he’sprobablythere.Brave,beautifulScarlet,shefuckingbucklesbecauseofthatman,andIsawenoughofhislittlehomemovietoriddleoutwhythathappens.
“It’sprinciple,”Threechimesin.“We’renotexactlyTheAvengershere,butsometimesshithastobedone.Sometimesyou’vegottagoafteraguy,tomakeapoint,tosay‘thisshitisn’thappeningonmywatch’becauseitshouldn’tbehappening.”
“Exactly,”Isay.“Besides,theguycameintomyhousetodayandhelpedhimselftosomethingthatdoesn’tbelongtohim.We’realittlepastliveandletliveatthispoint.Ioughttocuthisballsoffforsteppingontomyproperty.”
Sevensaysnothingelse.Idon’tknowifhe’sconvinced,butheknowsbetterthantopresstoohardafterI’vemadeupmymindonsomething.
“Youcango,”ItellThree,wavinghimaway.“Tomorrow,Ineedyouandalltheguysbackhere,sowecanhandlethis.Trytogetaholdofthegirltonightandseeifshecantellyouanything.”
“Yes,sir,”hesays,noddingbeforeleaving.
“Youcangohome,too,”ItellSeven.“I’msureyourwifeiswaitingforyou.”
Hehesitates.“Areyougoingtobeokayherebyyourselftonight?”
“I’llbefine,”Isay.“Idon’tneedababysitter.”
Sevenleaves,finally,aminutelater,sayingnothingelse.Isitinsilenceasdarknesscreepsin,nighttimecoming.Pickingmygunbackup,Irunmyfingersalongthecoolmetal.Thegunfeelsheavyinmyhand,heavierthanusual,liketheweightofthissituationispressinguponit.
I’veneverreallylikedguns.
Sure,Iusethemoften.Theydothetrick,inapinch,butit’salmosttooeasy,ifyouknowwhatI’msaying.Youdon’tevenhavetogetclosetosomeonetopickthemoff,ifyou’vegotagun.Thatmakesitimpersonal,whichalsomakesitboring
ThisthingwiththeRussians…it’saspersonalasitgets,whichmeansAristovwon’tgettheeasinessofabullet.
Gettingup,Istrolloutofthelivingroom,clutchingthegunlikeasecurityblanket.Itakethestairsuptothesecondfloor,headingformybedroom.Thebedisunmade,unkempt,comforterbunchedupalongtheend,sheetsrumpled,thebeatupoldbearlyinginthecenterofit.Leftbehind
Turning,mygazecatchesmyreflectionabovethedresser,blurryinthedarkness,beforemyattentionshiftstotheremnantsofredlipstickonthemirror,notyetwipedoff.Didn’tseethepoint,soIneverbothered.I’msorry.Icanmakeoutpartofthewords,smearedbutstillthere.
Itgratesmyalreadyfrazzlednerves.
Asangerrushesthroughme,mybloodturningcold,Iraisethegun,fingeronthetrigger.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Themirrorfractures,shattering,piecesoftheglassflyingbackatmeasbulletsripthroughit,destroyingmyreflectionandtheapologyIneveraskedfor,theoneIdon’twant.Idon’tstopuntilthelastbulletpiercesthemirror,tearingthroughthewallbehindit,butitdoesn’tmatter,becausethere’snobodyelsehere.TheclickingofthegunechoesthroughtheroombeforeItossthedamnthingdownontopofthedresser.
Empty
***
“Sevenyearsbadluck.”
Mybrother’svoicefiltersthroughthehazeofexhaustionthatkeepspullingmeinandoutofconsciousness.I’mtootiredtosleep,ifyoucanbelievethatshit.Mybodyachesandmyheadjustkeepsthrobbing.EverytimeIdozeoff,I’mjarredrightbacktoreality.Figures
“Ididn’traiseyoutobeasuperstitiouslittlebitch,”Imutter,myforearmcoveringmyeyesasIlayinthebed,onmyback,stillfullydressedfromyesterday.“There’snopotofgoldattheendoftherainbow,PrettyBoy.Lifeisn’tmagicallydelicious.Theconsequencesofbreakingamirroristhatyourgoddamnmirrorisnowbroken.”
“Yeah,well,youdidn’tjustbreakit,”hesays,hisvoicegrowinglouder,closer,ashecomesfurtherintomybedroom.“Lookslikeyoumurderedthething.Whatdiditdo,tellyouSnowWhitewasprettierthanyou?”
Movingmyarm,Iopenmyeyesandglanceoverathim.I’mnotsurewhenhegothere.I’mnotevensurewhattimeitis,butbeingastheroomisbrightandIcantelltherearepeopledownstairs,movingaroundmyhouse,I’mgoingwithitbeingafternoon
“Whyareyouevenhere?”Iask,sittingup,scrubbingmyhandsovermyfacebeforerunningthemthroughmyhair,tryingtowakeup.
“Ilivehere,”hesays,turningtolookatme,“incaseyou’veforgotten.”
“Fornow.”
“Fornow,”heagrees,quietforamomentbeforesaying,“I’mworriedaboutyou,Lorenzo.”
Ilaughatthat,gettingtomyfeet,swaying.Igrasphisshoulder,squeezing,onmywayoutoftheroom.“It’smyjobtoworryaboutyou,nottheotherwayaround.”
Iwalkoutbeforehecanarguewithmeonthat,notinthemoodforthesentimentalbullshit.Iappreciateit,thefactthatmybrothercares,butIdon’thaveitinmetodealwithanyofthatrightnow.There’stoomuchelseonmymind.
Theguysareallhere,butIdon’tgreetthemrightaway,insteadmakingmywaytothekitchen.IgrabanorangefromabowlonthecounterandstartpeelingitasIstrolltothelivingroom.Theguysarechatting—strategizing,asitis.Wheretogo,whotohit,whattodo,howtodoit…whythehellwe’realljustsittinghereinsteadofbeingoutthere,doingsomething
It’sadamngoodquestion.
Leaningagainstthedoorframe,Ifinishpeelingtheorange,tossingthescrapsatSevenforhimtodiscard.Ieatit,stillnotsayingaword,astheycontinuetobickerbackandforth.
Threewantstohitthestripclub.
Fivewantstoblowtheguy’shouseup.
Sevenlookslikehewantstomediate,openinghismouthtochimeineveryfewsecondsbeforejustclosingitagain,shakinghishead.Heknowsit’snothisplace.Theothersdon’tseemtoknowwhattheywanttodo,buttheysureseemecstaticabouttheprospectofraisingsomehelloutthere,somewhere.
“I’mtellingyou,we’vegottahittheclub,”Threesays.“Theclubiswhereshe’llbe.”
“Ohbullshit,”Fivesays,wavinghimoff.“Nowisn’tthetimetogogetyourdicksucked,Declan.Heisn’tjustgoingtotakeherbacktohisgoddamnwhorehousetoworkforhim.”
“No,buthewould’vetakenhertheretolockherup,”Threesays.“Areyouforgettinghelockedmeinhisfuckingbasementandtriedtogetinformation?”
“Tried,huh?”Fiveglaresathim.“Who’stosayitdidn’twork?Who’stosayyou’renotworkingwithhimnow?”
Threespringstohisfeet,furious.“Howdareyou!I’dnever!”
Fivejumpsup,comingathim,bumpingrightintohim,pointerfingerjabbingagainsthischest.“Howarewesupposedtoknowthat,huh?Somebodyspilledtheirgutstohim.Soifitwasn’tyou,whowasit?Huh?”
Threeshoveshim.“Maybeitwasyou,asshole!”
Fivestumblesbutrecoversquickly,comingbackathim,thistimeswinging.Threepunchesback,thetwoofthemtradingblows,sendingSevenovertheedge.Hecan’tstayoutofitanymore.
“Guys,guys,relax!”Sevensays,shovinghiswaybetweenthem,separatingthetwomen.“There’snoneedforthis!Thelastthinganyoneneedsrightnowisusturningagainsteachother.”
“Tellthattothattraitorousbitch,”Fivesays.
Threetriestocomebackathim,shoving,buthecan’tgetpastSeven.“Fuckyou!”
“JesusChrist,”avoicemuttersbehindme,andIglanceovermyshoulder,backatmybrotherashestepsdownoffofthestairs,pausing.“What’sevengoingonaroundhereanymore?”
Anotherdamngoodquestion.
Theguysarestilltryingtofight,theothersjumpingin,choosingsides.Seven’sdoingashitjobplayingpeacekeeperonthisone,unabletokeepthehotheadsfromexplodingateachother,takingafewblowshimselfasfistsstartflyingagain.
IfIhadmygunonme,ifIhadn’tunloadeditinthemirrorupstairs,I’dprobablyshoothalfoftheseassholesrightnowjusttoridmylifeofallthisbickering
“Youshouldprobablygetoutofhere,”Itellmybrother.“Mightgetugly.”
Helaughsdryly,sayingsomethingabouthowit’sprettydamnuglyatthemoment,beforeheadingoutthefrontdoor.Ipushawayfromthedoorframeafterhe’sgone.
“Ifyou’remeasuring,fellas,toseewhichofyouhasthebiggestcock,”Isay,“Icanendthiseasilybytellingyouit’sneitheroneofyoujackasses,becausenobodyhasabiggercockthanIdo,sositthefuckdownbeforeI’mforcedtowhipitout.”
Ishoverightthroughthemiddleofthem,doingwhatSevencouldn’taccomplish,sendingthetwoofthemtooppositecornersandstoppingthisshit-showofashowdown.
Threewipeshismouthwiththebackofhishand,smearingbloodfromabustedlipontohischeek.“Boss,Ijustthink—”
“Shutup,”Isay.“Ihaven’ttoldyoutospeak.”
Threesaysnothingelse,nostrilsflaringashebreathesheavily,ballinghishandsintofists.Hedoesn’ttakewelltobeingcalledatraitor.
Can’tsayIblamehim.
IturntoFivejustashegoestostepback,toturnaway,thinkingthat’stheendofit,likethisisover.He,ontheotherhand,doesn’ttakewelltobeingbetrayed,butIcan’tsayIblamehim,either.Still,Igrabhimroughlybythebackoftheneck,forcinghimtostaywhereheis,yankinghiminthedirectionofThree.“Apologize.”
Fivelooksatmewithshock.
“ThreeandIhavealreadyhashedthatout,”Isay.“IfIthoughthewastoblame,doyoureallythinkhe’dbestandinginmylivingroom?”
“No.”
“Thenapologize,”Isayagain.“Kissandmakeup,whatever,becauseIdon’thavetimetodealwiththetwoofyouwhackingoffwhenthere’sshittotakecareof.”
FiveglaresacrosstheroomatThree.“Iapologize.”
There’snotastitchofgenuinemeaningtohiswords,butthatdoesn’tmatter.Ididn’ttellhimtobesorry.Itoldhimtoapologize.
“Fuckyou,”Threegrumblesinresponse.
“Fuckyouback,”Fivesays,steppingovertositdownonthecouch.
“Well,then,”Isay,“ifyou’realldonebeingstupidandwanttoofferrealsuggestions,I’mlistening…otherwise,getthefuckoutofmyhouse.”
Theythrowoutideas,thesamebullshitonestheyspewedbefore,asItakeaseatbesideFiveonthecouchandpulloutmyphone,ignoringtheguysastheystartbickeringoncemore.Stubbornassholes
IguessifIwantshitdone,I’mgoingtohavetofigureitoutmyself…likeusual.ChapterThirteen
Thelittlegirlsatinablueplasticchairinthelobbyofthepoliceprecinct.Thelightswerebright,blastingherlikesummersunshine,theheatcrankeduphighinthebuilding,butshewasstillsocold.Evenwiththethickblanketthey’dcoveredherwith,shecouldn’tstopshaking,herteethchattering.
Shejustwantedtogohome.
Howmanytimesdidshehavetotellthem?
Shesaiditeverytimetheystartedaskingtheirquestions,buttheykeptignoringher,wantingtoknowotherthingsshecouldn’tsay,thingsshedidn’twanttotalkaboutwiththosepeople.
“Whatshouldwedo?”anofficerinauniformasked,standingbesidethechair.“We’vebeentryingforanhourandnothing.”
“I’llputacallintoDCFS,”anothermansaid,thisonewearingasuit.“Familyservicesshouldbeabletohelp,maybesendupsomeonewhocancoaxsomethingoutofher.”
“Youdon’tthinksomethinghappenedtoherparents,doyou?”theuniformedmanasked,frowning.“Wecheckedalloverthecity,nomissingreportsmatchingher,butsomebodyoughttobemissingher,youknow?”
Nomissingreports
Somebodyoughttobemissingher
Thelittlegirldidn’tlikehowtheytalkedabouther,likeshewasn’tthereandcouldn’thear,andsheespeciallydidn’tlikesomeofthethingstheysaid,likehownobodytoldthemshewasmissing.Wasshemissing?Hermotherwouldbemissingher,thelittlegirlwassureofit,butmaybeshethoughtshewasjuststillhiding.
“What’swithallthecommotioninherethismorning?”anothermangrumbledashewanderedintothelobby,hissuitallrumbled,theskinunderhiseyesdark,hishairstickingout,likehe’djustwokenup.Hecarriedahugecupofcoffee,sippingonit.“SomeonesaidRamirezgotassaultedoutinBrightonBeach?Whothehelldidthat?”
“Thisonedid,”thefirstmaninthesuitsaid,motioningtothelittlegirl.“Hefoundherwanderingaloneatfouro’clockthismorning.Feistythingdamnnearclawedhiseyesout.”
Thenewarrivalsteppedcloser,regardingher,andfrozeafootaway,eyeswidening.Thelittlegirllookedupathim,andittookheramoment,butshethoughthisfacelookedkindoffamiliar.
Likemaybeshesawitbefore.
“Sonofabitch,”hegrumbled.
“PuttingacallintoDCFS,”theothermaninasuitsaid.“Goingtobroadcastanalert,probablyblastherpictureoutthere,hopingsomeonewillstepforwardonceDCFSclearsit.”
“Don’tbother,”thenewmansaidwithaloudsigh.“Iknowwhoshebelongsto.”
Theguyintheuniformlookedsurprised.“Youdo?”
“Youdon’t?”hecountered.“Comeon,useyoureyes.Haveyouevenlookedather?It’sobvious.”
Allthreemenlookedatherthen.
Thelittlegirldidn’tliketheirattention.
Theuniformedstillseemedconfused,buttheotheronegotavacantstareashewhispered,“Oh,fuck.”
“Fuckisright,”thenewcomersaid.She’dcallhimSleepy,excepthesuddenlylookedwideawake,soshewentwithDopeyinstead,sinceitwastheonlyotherdwarfshecouldrememberrightthen.“I’llhandleitpersonally.I’vebeendealingwiththislongenough,soIoughttobetheonetodoit.”
Theothersdidn’targue,avertingtheireyesandwalkingaway,asDopeymotionedforhertofollowhimtoanelevator.
“Comeon,kid,”hesaid.“I’mgoingtomakesureyougetbacktowhereyoubelong.”
Thelittlegirllikedthesoundofthat.
Shebelongedathomewithhermother.
Standingup,draggingtheblanketalongwithher,shefollowedhim,herwetshoessqueakingagainstthefloor.Everyonekeptlookingather.Shedidn’tlikeit.ShefollowedDopeyontotheelevator,stillnotsayinganything,andheledhertoanofficeonanotherfloor,tuckedintheback,surroundedbyglass.
“Takeaseat,”hesaid,pointingtoachair,beforeheclosedabunchofblinds,whichmadethelittlegirlhappy.Itmeantpeoplehadtostopstaring.Shesatdown,andhejoinedher,sittingbehindadeskpiledhighwithfolders.“ThiswascertainlynothowIexpectedthistogo.”
Hedrummedhisfingersagainstthearmofhischair,regardingher.
Thelittlegirlthoughthe’daskherallthosesamequestions,aboutnamesandparents,butinsteadheasked,“Areyouokay,kid?”
Sheshrugged.
“You’renothurt,areyou?”Helookedheroverfromadistance.“BeforeImakeanycalls,Iwanttobesureyou’reokay.”
“Myarmfeelsfunny,”shesaid.“ItgothurtwhenIfell.”
“Youfell?”
Shenodded.
“Anythingelse?Didanyoneelsehurtyou?Anotherperson?”
Tearswelledinhereyes,butsheshookherhead,notwantingtotalkaboutit.
“Areyousure?Youcantellme.”
“HetookBuster,”shewhispered.“Heburnedhim,butnotallup.”
“Who’sBuster?”
“Mybear,”shesaid.“AndhemadeMommygotosleep,too.ShetoldmetoplayHide&Seek,andshewouldfindme,butshehasn’t.”
“Butyou’reokay?”
Shenodded.
Sheguessedshewas.
Hepickedupthephone,dialinganumber.Itrangandrangandrang,butshecouldn’thearit.“Hey,it’s,uh…me.I’mcallingtoletyouknowthatwe’velocatedyourdaughter.We’redownattheprecinct.”
Hepaused,sighing.“Anofficersawherthismorningwanderingalonealongthebeach.She’sokay,though.She’sfine.You’lljustwanttogetdownhererightaway,youknow,beforeanybodyelsecatcheswindofit.”
Anotherpause.Anothersigh.
“Seeyouinafew.”Hangingup,Dopeylookedoverather.“Don’tworry,itwon’tbelong.”
“DoyouknowMommy?”
“Yourmother?”Heletoutalightlaugh.“Yeah,Imetherwhenthisallhappened.Someonesawyourfrontdoorbusteddownandfoundheronthekitchenfloor.”
“Sleeping.”
“Sleeping,”heagreed.“Shetoldmeallaboutyouassoonasshewokeup.”
ThelittlegirlsmiledatDopey,takinginhisexpression,almostlikehermothermadehimsadforsomereason.Hehadpolkadotsonhisface,onesthelittlegirlthoughtwerefunny.She’dseenthembefore,butitwasweird,becauseitwasn’twithhermother.
“Anyway,yourmother,she’smadethetrektomyofficeeveryweeksincethen.Andtoday…todaymakestenmonthssinceshelostyou.I’msureit’llwarrantavisit.”
Tenmonths
Thelittlegirldidn’tknowwhattosay,butshereallydidn’tgetthechanceanyway.Therewascommotionoutsidetheoffice,thedoorshovingopenwithoutaknock.
Turning,thefirstpersonthelittlegirlsawwastheCowardlyLion,followedbytheTinManstrollingin.
No
Thiswaswrong.
Itwasn’tsupposedtobethem
“Comeon,”theCowardlyLionsaidassoonasshestartedcrying,pullingheroutofthechair,scoopingherupinhisarmsashewhispered,“Don’tmakeascene,sweetgirl,andhe’llforgiveyouforthis.”
Butshedidn’twanttheTinMan’sforgiveness.Shewantedridofhim.
“Iappreciatethecall,”theTinMansaid,“andIassureyou,thiswillneverhappenagain.”
“Just…takeherhome,Aristov,”Dopeysaid,coveringhispolka-dottedfacewithhishands.“Getheroutofherebeforethisgetsanyworsethanitis.”ChapterFourteen
Abuzzingsounddisturbsthestarksilence,pullingmefromunconsciousness,soquietIthinkmyimaginationmightbeplayingtricksonme.Forcingmyeyesopen,Iblinkrapidlyasthefaintnoiseregisterswithmyears.Asoftglowcutsthroughthedarknessrightbehindme,illuminatingthespacesurroundingme,likeI’mcastinaspotlight,butthere’snotastitchofwarmthtoit.Ishiver
Pushingoffthehardground,sittingup,Iturnandseehim.Kassian.Justafootaway,hesitsinarustedmetalchair,soclosehecould’vekickedmehadhegottentheurge.Myheartstallsabeat,alarmedbyhisproximity,asIshoveaway,thefilthyconcretescrapingagainstmybarelegs.
Idon’tgetfar.Itonlytakeshimafewsecondstoreact,hisfootstompingonthechain,abruptlycuttingoffmyslack.Gasping,Igrabwhereit’swrappedaroundmyneck,mybreathingstrangledasIpullmykneesuptoprotectmyself,forcedtostaythere.He’sholdinghisphone,thebuzzcomingfromit.
Somebody’scalling
Kassianpressesasinglefingertohislips,warningmetobesilent,beforeheanswersit.
“Howniceofyoutocall,”Kassiansays,hisvoicesoloudinthevacantbasementthatIwince.“WhatcanIdoforyou,MisterScar?”
Scar.Iletoutashakybreath,mylipsparting,wordsonthetipofmytongue,wantingtospringfree,yearningtocallouttohim.Lorenzo.Iforcetheurgedown,though,swallowingbackthewords.
AsmuchasIwanttoscream,asmuchasIwanttolashout,Iknowit’snotgoingtohelpmerightnow.
KassianlistensinsilenceasLorenzotalks,beforeasmilecrackshisfaceandheletsoutalaugh,thesoundofitchilling.Myhairstandsonend,tearspricklingmyeyes.LaughterfromKassianisn’tasignofhappiness;itdoesn’tsignifypeaceorthateverythingisallright.LaughterfromKassianissadistic,dominating,hissenseofhumortwisted.Helaughsatothers’misery.
Thistime,Ithink,he’slaughingatmine
“Ilookforwardtoit,”Kassiansays,eyeingme,thesmilelingeringonhislips.“Untilthen…”
Hepullsthephoneawayfromhisearwithoutfinishinghisthought,endingthecallbeforepressinganotherbutton,thelightdisappearing,leavingusintotaldarkness.Iblink,tryingtoadjustmyeyessoIcanmakehimout,butthere’snonaturallightdownhereinthebasement.
“Comehere,”Kassiansays,hisvoicesoquietthatit’sliketheshadowsarewhispering,beckoningmecloser.
Idon’tmove,though.
Iwantnothingthatlivesintheseshadows.
Kassiangivesitmaybetensecondsbeforethechainjingles.Hegrabsit,yankingonitlikeit’saleash.Itrytoresist,losingmybreath,diggingmyheelsin,buthe’stoodamnstrong.IcryoutasI’mdraggedalongthefloor,theconcreteskinningmykneesandthepalmsofmyhandswhenItrytocatchmyselftokeepfromsmackingintoit.
AssoonasI’mwithinreach,hegrabswhereit’swrappedaroundmyneckandpullsmyfacerightuptohisface.Icanhardlymakehimout,eventhisclose,butIcanfeelhiswarmbreathagainstmyskin.
“Isaidcomehere,”hesays,hisvoicestillquiet,aforcedkindofcalm.“Haveyougonedeaf?Doweneedtocleanoutyourears?”
Idon’tanswerhim.
Hedoesn’tcareaboutmyanswer.
Closingmyeyes,Iholdmybreathasherunshisnosealongmyjawline,thescruffonhisfacerubbingagainstmycheek.I’mtrembling.Iknowhecanfeelit,andItrytostop,buthisproximitymakesithardformetogetagrip.
Hemakesmefeellikethatteenageragain.
“Youarestillbeautifulwhenyousleep,suka,”hesays.“Icouldnotbringmyselftowakeyou.Youlookedsoatpeace.Youdonotlookthatwaywhenyoureyesareopen.Whyisthat?”
“Youknowwhy,”Iwhisper.
Hepullsbacksome,lookingmeintheeyes,thetipofhisnosebrushingagainstthetipofmine.Hetiltshisheadever-so-slightly,andIletoutashakybreath,knowinghe’sthinkingaboutkissingme.
Thethoughtmakesmegrimace.
“Icamedownheresowecouldcatchuponyourlessons,prettygirl,”hesays,justawhisperawayfrommymouth,“butitseemsasifwewillhavetoputthatonholdfornow.”
Heletsgoofthechain,andIimmediatelymoveaway,scramblingtoputabitofspacebetweenus.Justafootortwo,justenoughsoIcan’tsmellhiscologne,sohiscruelwarmthcan’tswaddlemeinthecold,damproom.
Standingup,hestartswalkingaway,likehe’sjustgoingtoleave,likehe’sgoingtogowithouttorturingmeforthemoment.Mystomachtwistsinknots,heavierthanthethickmetalconstrictingmythroat.HereIam,afterfightingsohardforsolong,oncemoreatthemercyofamanwhoisn’tparticularlymerciful
Idon’ttrusthispassivedemeanor.
He’suptosomething.Iknowit.
“Oh,Ialmostforgot,”hesays,stalling.“Ihavesomethingforyou.”
Ofcourse
Closingmyeyes,Isigh,hearinghissteadyfootstepsasheapproachesagain.Whateverhe’sgot,Idon’twantit.Hecankeepit.Hecanshoveituphisass,forallIcare.TheonlythingIwantistoseemydaughter,sounlesshe’sgivingmethat…
Begone
Kassianstallsinfrontofme,andIpeekthroughthedarknessashereachesintothefrontpocketofhisblackslacks,pullingsomethingout.Apieceofpaper,itlookslike,crumbledandfoldedagainandagain,intoalittlesquare.
“Ihavebeencarryingthisaroundforsometime,”hesays,unfoldingit.“ItoldmykittenthatIwouldgivethistoyou,agiftfromher,wheneverIsawyouagain.”
Hedropsthepaper,anditfloatstotheconcreteinfrontofme.Idon’treachforitrightaway,juststaringatwherethepaperlands,unabletomakeoutanyofitinthedarkness.Myheartraces,likethepaperisatickingtimebomb,likeithasthepowertodetonateeverythinginsideofmethatI’vesomehowkepttogetherevenafterKassiantriedtobreakmeapart.
“Itwillnotbite,”hesays,hishandonmyhead,pettingmyhairbeforeIevenrealizehe’sreachingforme.Iinstinctivelyrecoil,expectingpunishmentforthesnub—ablowtotheface,athumptothecheek,maybeahandfistingmyhair—buthemerelypullsaway,turningtoleave.“Iwillletthatgothistime.Beagoodgirlthisafternoon,andIwillhaveamattressbroughtdown.”
Ishakemyhead,althoughIknowhecan’tseeit,whispering,“Idon’twantit.”
Thereusedtobeabeddownhere.Thereusedtobealot.ThefirsttimeIfoundmyselflockedinhere,allthoseyearsago,itlookedlikeashabbystudioapartment,dirtyanddark,butyet,ithadbeenlivable.Yousee,sinceKassianspentsomuchtimedownhere,hewantedtobecomfortable,butIchangedthat,becausetheonlythinghecherishedmorethanhisowncomfortwasmysuffering.He’dgladlydowithoutifitmeantIhadnothing.
Itwentfromaregularlittlejailcelltosolitaryconfinement.
Slowly,piece-by-piece,itallwentaway.Theblankets,theextraclothes,thetowels,thesheets.HerippedouttheplumbingafterIfloodedhisbasement,leavingjustatoiletthatonlyflusheswhenwaterispouredintoit.ThebathwasremovedafterIthreatenedtodrownmyself,replacedwithahosethatisnowkeptunderlock-and-keyafterIblastedhimwithcoldwaterwhenhetriedtocomenearme.
Thebed,though,waslasttogo.Heclungtothatconveniencelikeadyingmantohislastbreath,butafterIstabbedhimwitharustypieceofmetalItorefromthebox-spring,hefinallygotridofit.
That’swhenthechainsappeared.
ActlikeananimalandIwilltreatyoulikeone
IguessgettingthattetanusshotwasKassian’sfinalstraw,becauseafterthat,itwasn’tasimplegameofwillpoweranymore.
Afterthat,hebecamecruel
Notlikelockinggirlsinbasementswasniceinthefirstplace,butalinewasdrawnthatday.Idrewblood.Hedecideditwastimehedidthesame.
Beforethen,itwasmostlymental.Hedidn’twanttoruinthegoods,soheleftnopermanenttracesofhimself.Thatchangedwithme,though,andsometimesIwonderifIbroughtthatonmyself.WouldithavebeeneasiertoescapehimhadInotfoughtsohard?
“Youwillchangeyourmind,”hesays.“ThefirsttimeIslamyourfaceintothefloor,youwillbebeggingmeforthatmattress,becauseitwillmuffleyourcriesalotbetterthantheconcrete.”
Ibitemyliptokeepfromreactingtothat.
Ashestartsupthestairstoleave,Ireachover,carefullyrunningmyfingertipsalongthepaper,feelingthewaxysubstancecoatingit.Crayon.Shedrewmeapicture.Ismiletomyselfatthatthought,butitquicklyfades,worriedaboutwhatshemight’vedrawn,ifmaybeitwasmonsters.
“Iwillturnonalight,”Kassiancallsbacktome,“soyoumayseeyourpresent.”
Abrightlightflickson,harshandblinding,hurtingmyeyes.Isquint,tryingtowarditoff,andlookatthepaperasIpickitup.
Mystomachclenches,bileburningmythroat.
Ihearthedooropenandclose,locksclickingintoplaceashewalksout,leavingmesimmeringundertheharshlightswithtearsburningmyeyes.Itrytoexhale,buttheairistrappedinmychest,pressurebuildinguntilIfeellikeI’mgoingtoburst.Ican’tseemtotakeabreath.
It’sapictureshedrewofme.
Icovermymouthwithmyhand,stiflingasob,myotherhandshakingthepaperasIgripittightly.Afteramoment,Iclutchittomychest,huggingitasIpullmylegsup.Tearsstreamdownmycheeks,streakingmydirtybarelegsasIrestmyheadonmykneesandcry.
Andcry.
Andcry.
Pleaseletherbeokay
***
Igivemyselftwentyminutes
Orwell,atleastIthinkIdo.
Idon’texactlyhaveawatchhere.
It’shardtojudgetimeinavoid,andit’snotasifcountingthesecondswouldmakemuchofadifference,sinceI’deventuallywaverandhavetostartover.
ButitfeelsliketwentyminutesbeforeIswallowbackmyfears,wipingawaymytearsasIpullmyselftogether,takingitoneshakybreathatatime.Gettingtomyfeet,Ipacearound,movingasfarasthechainwillletmego,stretching,tryingtokeepmystrengthupdespitemysoreness…despitemyexhaustion…despitemythirst,myhunger,myfear
YoucandothisYoucandothisYoucandothis
Ineedawayout.Idon’tyetknowwhatthatwayis,butI’mimaginingit’snotgoingtobeeasy,becausegettingoutentailssomehowgettingpastKassian
HesaidIwasn’tleavingthisbasementuntilIlovedhim.ImadehimbelieveIlovedhimonce.Hell,maybeIactuallydid.IrememberatimewhenIlookedatKassianliketheuniverseexistedbeneathhisskin,starstwinklinginhiseyes,constellationsinhissoul,airandatmosphereandwaterforminghisstrong,masculinebody,likewithoutthebreathfromhislungs,breathinglifeintousall,thesunwouldnolongerburn.IthoughthewastheHeavensandtheEarth,Ithoughthewasmysavior,buthewasreallyjustHellindisguise.Theyalwaysdidsaythedevilwasbeautiful.
Iknowtoomuchnow,though,andsodoeshe.
I’mnotsureIcouldevertrickhimintobelievingIstilllovehim,butunlessyouhaveabetteridea…no?Didn’tthinkso.
Yeah,I’mtotallyscrewed…
ThebasementdooropensasIcontinuetopace,notastitchofslackleftinthechainasImoveawayfromitasfarasIcan,turningtofacethewall,needingamomenttodrymylingeringtearsbeforeIcanbringmyselftolookathim.Therearefootstepsonthestairs,toorestrainedtobeKassian’s,myheaddizzyasasoftvoiceringsout.“Morgan?”
Slowly,Iturn.
Alexis
Isawherjustdaysago,standinginLorenzo’shouse.She’dbeennervousthen,butsheseemstobeevenmorenervousnow.I’dalreadybeendeeplyentrenchedinlifeherewhenKassianfoundher,anothersweetlittlerunawaygirlinthecity,oneoftheinvisible,theforgotten.Ifyou’reallalone,onyourown,itmeansthere’snobodycomingtosaveyou,nobodytoevenmissyouwhenyoudisappear.Heexploitsthat,makingyoubelievethatwithouthim,you’renothing.
Youhavenothing;youmeannothing.
Buthemadeagravemistakewithme.
Yousee,hegavemesomething.Hegavemesomeone.I’llneveragainbenothing,notaslongasSasha’souttheresomewhere.Hethoughtthathewasfurthertetheringmetohim,butinreality,hegavemethemotivationIneededtobreakthosechains.
“I,uh…Ibroughtyousomethingtoeat,”Alexissaysquietly,offeringmeasmallsmilealongwithabrownpaperbag.“Youmustbehungry.”
Istareatherforaminutebeforemyeyesflickerpasther.Thebasementdoorstandswideopenatthetopofthestairs.Icanhearvoices,thickRussianaccentsspewingforeignwordsupintheofficeofLimerence.Forafleetingmoment,Iimaginemakingabreakforit,wonderinghowmanypeopleI’dneedtooverpower,butassoonasItakeastep,thechainjingles,groundingmebackinreality.
Right.Kassianhasthekeytothelockhangingaroundmyneck.
“Doesheknowyou’refeedingme?”Iask—astupidquestion,frankly,becauseshewouldn’tbedownherewithouthispermission.
“Hewantsyoutokeepyourstrengthup,”shesays.
“Ofcoursehedoes,”Imutter,takingthebagfromherbeforeploppingdowninthemetalchair,surprisedheleftitinherewhereIcouldsitonit…orsmackhimovertheheadwithit.“Doesn’twanttofuckacorpse,right?”
“Right,”shewhispers,hersmilefallingassheglancesupthestairsbeforeturningbacktome.“Itwasn’tme,Morgan.Iswear.Iwould’venevertold—”
“Iknow,”Isay,droppingthebaggedlunchonthefloor,discardingitbythelegofthechair.“KassiansaiditwasLorenzo.”
Sheblanches.“What?”
“HesaidLorenzosenthimhisaddress.”
“Butwhywould—?”
Beforeshecanfinish,heavyfootstepscomedownthestairs.IlookthatwaywhenKassianappears.
“Stupidgirl,”hesays,grabbingaholdofAlexisandpointinghertowardthestairs.“Whichpartof‘giveherfood’didyouthinkmeantgossip?”
“I’msorry,Mr.Aristov,”Alexiswhispers,rushingoutofthebasement.
Heshakeshishead,shouting,“Shutthedoorbehindyou!”
Alexislistens,thedoorclosing,mufflingthevoicesupstairs.Kassianturnstomeoncewe’realone,curvinganeyebrowashestrollsclosertowhereI’msitting.Hewatchesmecarefully,eyesscanningmyface.Idon’tmove,don’tspeak,forcingmyselftonotreacttohispresence,ashardasthatis.Itrytolookunruffled,ascalmandcollectasheseemstobe,butmyhandsaresweatyandmyheartisracingsohardI’dbesurprisedifhecouldn’thearit.
Assoonashe’swithinreach,hegrabsthechain,nohesitationasheyanksonithard,wrenchingmerightoutofthechair.Istumble,tripping,tryingtocatchmyself,tosoftentheblow,butIhittheconcreteonmyhandsandknees,stingingtearingthroughmyalreadyscuffedpalms,mykneecapspainfullyscreaming
Wincing,Isqueezemyeyesshut,takingafewdeepbreathsasIrollover,ploppingdownonmyass.Atrickleofbloodrunsdownmyrightshin,theskinaroundthekneeslicedopen.
ThemetalshiftsasKassiandropsdownintothechair,hisvoicefirmashesays,“Thisismyseat.Ididnottellyoutohelpyourselftoit.”
“Youdidn’t—”Icutoffabruptlywhenheraiseshiseyebrows,likehecan’tbelieveIhavethenervetotalk.Youdidn’ttellmenotto,either.Thosewordswereabouttocomeout,butIknowifIdon’twatchmymouth,hemightripoutmytongue,soIjustleaveitatthat.“Youdidn’t.”
Reachingdown,hepicksupthebrownbaglunch.“Youarenoteating,suka.”
“I’mnothungry,”Ilie.
Hesighsdramaticallyasheopensthebagandpullsoutasandwichcoveredinplastic.Heunwrapsit,tearingitsloppilydownthemiddle,holdinghalfouttome.Peanutbutterandgrapejelly.Istareatitwithsurprise,notmoving,untilhesays,“Takeit.”
Itakeit,eyeingitwarily.Mystomachischurning,abattlebrewingbetweenmyhungerandmyanger,tornbetweeneatingitandwantingtoshoveitbackinhisfuckingface.
“Notwhatyouexpected?”heasks,takingabiteoftheotherhalfofthesandwich,makingafaceashechews.HehasprobablyneverhadPB&Jbefore,buthe’stryingtoprovetomethatit’ssafetoeat.
“No,”Iadmit.“ExpectedsomeDoktorskayabolognaorsmokedmackerel.”
Hegrimaces,swallowing.“Eitherofthosewouldbeamuchbetterchoice,butkitten,shedoesnotlikemyfood,sosometimes,thereispeanutbuttertomakeherhappy.”
Istareathimafterhesaysthat.
“Whatisthatlookfor?”heasks,tossinghishalfofthesandwichbackinthebag,hispointmade.He’snottryingtopoisonme.Atleast,notrightnow
Itakeasmallbitebeforemumbling,“I’mjustwonderingwhenyouevercaredaboutsomebodyelse’shappiness.”
Iprobablyshouldn’thavesaidthatoutloud.
Icanseetheamusementdrainingfromhiseyes.
Hesaysnothinginresponse,though,watchingmeasIeatthehalfofthesandwichheoffered,waitinguntilit’sallgonebeforehesays,“Comehere.”
I’monlylikeafootawayfromhim.
Howmuchcloserdoesheneedme?
Swallowingthickly,Iscootcloser,andcloser,andcloser,asKassianleansdowninthechair,closingtherestofthedistancebetweenus.Reachingintothenecklineofhisshirt,hepullsoutthelongsilverchainhealwayswears,asetofsmallkeysdanglingfromit.
Myheartraces,breathhitching.
Hisfaceisrightupagainstmine,holdingmygaze,ashegraspstheheavylock.
“Areyougoingtobeagoodgirl?”heasks.
Carefully,Inod.
Notachanceinhell
Hesticksthekeyin,unlockingit,pullingthepadlockoffbeforeunwindingthethickchainfromaroundmyneck.Itakeadeepbreath,relievedatbeingfree—atleasttemporarily.
Thechainclatterswhenhedropsittotheconcretebesideme.Standingup,heslipsthepadlockintohispocketbeforegrabbingmyarm,yankingmetomyfeet.
Thesecondheloosenshishold,lettinggo,instinctkicksin.There’snothingtetheringmehere.
Fuckthis
Irun.
Idartfortheexit,reachingthestairsinseconds,runningupthemasfastasmylegswillcarryme.AsInearthedoor,myheadgrowsfuzzy,thevoicesontheothersideofitloud.ShitShitShit
Grabbingtheknob,IstarttoturnitwhenI’mrippedaway,armswindingaroundme.
“No…no…no…no…no!”
Kassian’voiceislacedwithanger,avenomousgrowlrightinmyear.Hedragsmebackdownintothebasement,notwaveringatall,evenasIstruggle.Mybreathsaresharpandquick,panicassaultingme.Ilashout,tryingtohithim,jabbingelbowsintohischest,thrustingmyfeetback,kickinghislegs,buthisgriponlygrowstighter.
Hepullsmeacrosstheroom,totheareathatusedtobeabathroom,shovingmehardontothedrainagegrateonthefloor.Igrimace,catchingmyselfwithmyhandsagain,themetalclanging.
“Stay!”heyells.
Kassianusesanothersetofkeystounlockanearbycabinet.Ipeekpasthim,insideofit,myhearthammeringhard,watchingasheshiftsthroughsupplies…noneofwhichIcoulddoanyseriousdamagewithifIstoleit.
Hepullsoutasmallhose,abarofsoap,andathreadbaretowel.
“Ifyouarelookingforweapons,youshouldknowbetter,”hesays,lockingthecabinetbeforeturningbacktome.“Takingmeoutwillneverbethateasy.”
Hehooksupthehosetothefaucetonthewallbeforedrapingthetoweloverthebackofhischair.
“Standup,”hesays.
Idon’tstandup.
Hegrabsmyarmagain,yankingmetomyfeetasheyellsrightinmyface,“Isaidstandup!”
Iglareathim,staringintohisstormygrayeyes.Ragesimmersjustbelowthesurface,hintsofitseepingout,buzzinglikeelectricitybetweenus.It’slikeashockofstatic.Myhairstandsonend,thesensationcrawlingacrossmyskin.
“Handsup,”heorders,hisvoicelow,firm
I’dratherdoanythingbutgiveintohisdemands,butIthinkifIpushhimanymorerightnow,hemightkillme.
Forrealthistime
Iraisemyarmsashegrabsthebottomofmyfilthywhiteshirt,slowlypullingitupovermyheadbeforetossingitasideontheconcrete.
“Donotmove,”hewarns,“Imeanit.”
Idrapemyforearmsontopofmyhead,tiltingmyheadup,eyesmovingtotheceilingrightaboveme,fixedthereashekneelsinfrontofme.Ishudder,feelinghiscallousedfingersgrazingagainstmyskin.Herunshishandsgentlyupmythighsbeforetuggingonmyunderwear.Iwaituntilhereachesmyanklesbeforeever-so-slightlyraisingmyfeet,lettinghimtakethemoff.
Hetossesthemasidewithmyshirt.
Hishandssettleonmyhipsashepullshimselfbackup,standing,hisclothedbodyflushagainstmine.Hebringshismouthtomyear,mybreathhitchingashewhispers,“Icansmellhimonyou.”
Isqueezemyeyesshut,stillnotmoving,asKassianturnsonthehose.Acryescapesmethesecondthewaterpeltsmychest,soicycoldthatitstings,likeneedlespiercingmyskin.Ibreathedeeply,chantingsilentlytomyself,tryingtoblockitallout,tryingtonumbmyselftoit.
Youcandothis
It’llbeoverbeforeyouknowit
Gotoyourhappyplace
Myhappyplace,inthelittlewhitehousewiththebrightreddoor,blastingcheesypopmusicanddancingaroundthekitchenwithmylittlegirl.Singingalongatthetopofourlungs,onlyknowinghalfthewords,butitdidn’tmatterhowterriblewesoundedbecausewehadfun.Laughinguntilwecried,watchingcartoonsandbakingcookies,asBusterstoodguard,protectingusfrommonsters.Myhappyplace,fulloflove…somuchlove.I’ddoanythingtohaveitback.
Anythingtoseehersmile.
Anythingtohearhersweetlaughter.
Kassian’shandsareasbrutalasthefrigidwater,scrubbingmerawfromhead-to-toe,usingtheentirebarofsoap.
“Didyoulethimcomeinyou,suka?”heasks,hisvoicelow,handsplaceshishandsdon’tdeservetogo.“DidyoulethimfuckyoulikeonlyIamallowed?DoIneedtoripoutmoreofyourinsidestogetridofeverytraceofhim?”
Idon’tanswer.
WhateverIsaywon’tmakeadifference.
Myteethviciouslychattertothepointthatmyjawhurts,mybodyshaking,shivering,partsofmegoingnumb.IknowI’mcrying,buthecan’tseemytears,thewaterrunningdownmyfacewipingawayanyevidencethathe’sgettingthroughmydefenses.
Hedropsthehoseoncehe’ssatisfiedandturnsthewateroff.Thefloorbeneathmyfeetiscompletelysoaked,slowtodrain.Ilowermyhead,myeyesmeetingKassian’sashepicksupthetowel.Hestepsrightuptome,soclosewetouch,notseemingtocarethathissuitgetswet.
Infact,lookingathim,Icantelleveryounceofcarehemight’vehadaboutanythingisnolongerthere.
Imightbefreezing,butthismanisicecold.
“Icantell,”hesays.
Idon’twanttosayanything.Iwanttostaysilent.
Mywordswon’tchangeanythingandhedoesn’tdeservetohearthem.
Butalmostbyinstinct,myvoicequietlyresponds,“Youcantellwhat,Kassian?”
“Thatyouhaveforgotteneverything.”
He’stryingtogoadme,togetareaction,butI’mnotgoingtogivehimthesatisfaction.Iknowwherethisisleading.NomatterhowIrespond,he’sgoingtodowhathewants.
“Begme,”hesays,graspingmychinasIcontinuetoshake,completelydrenched.He’sholdingthetowelhostage,refusingtowrapitaroundme.“BegmetobringyouthatmattressandIwill,prettygirl.”
Icontinuetostareathim,hisgriptightasheholdsmyface,waitingforthosemagicwords.
He’snotgettingthem.
Ibeggedhimthatnight.Thenighthebrokeintomyhouse.Thenighthestolemylife.Ibeggedhimnottodoit,toleaveusinpeace,butnoneofitmattered,soit’lltakeonehellofamiracletogetmetoeverbeghimagain.
ThesmirkthattouchesthecornersofKassian’smouthtellsmethat’sexactlywhathewasexpecting…exactlywhathewanted.Hedragsmyfaceclosertohis,fingersdiggingintomyskin,squeezingmycheeks,hislipsjustabreathfrommyownashesays,“Concreteitis…”ChapterFifteen
Idon’tknowthatI’veeverencounteredaproblemthatagrenadecouldn’tsolve.Justpullthepin,toss,BOOM.Problemgone.I’vegottenridofafewissuesthatway,wipedrightoffthemap,bye-bye.It’seasytoforgetaboutsomethingonceitnolongerexists,whenyouneverhavetoseeitagain.
Outofsight,outofmind
Maybethatmakesmeanevenbiggerassholethanyouthought,thefactthatI’drathererasesomethingfrommylifethanactuallydealwithanysortoffallout.Becausefallout?It’smessy…messierthanthedestructionagrenadecancause.
Mybrothersaysit’sbecauseI’mallergictofeelings.
Ijustthinkmostpeoplearen’tworththetrouble.
AV40minifrag,grenadethesizeofagolfball.Weighsmaybefiveouncesorso.Ifyou’rewithinsixteenfeetofthethingwhenitgoesoff,you’refucked.Uptoacouplehundredfeet,andit’sprobablygoingtohurt.Alot.Dangerouslittlefuckers,whichiswhythey’reoutofservice.Nothardtocarryafewofthemaroundinyourpocket,ifyou’rewillingtoriskblowingyourdickoffbyaccident.
I’vetossedafewinmylife,mostjustforthefunofit.Theysendonehellofamessage.Theygetpeople’sattention.
“You’remakingmenervous,boss.”
Turningmyhead,lookingawayfromthehigh-classwhorehouseAristovruns,Iglanceatthedriver’sseatbesideme,whereSevensits.Yeah,helooksnervous.He’ssweatingfuckingbullets.
“I’mnotgoingtoblowusup,”Isay,glancingatthelittlegrenadeinthepalmofmyhand.I’vebeenrunningmyfingersalongthecoldsteeltheentirethirtyminuteswe’vebeensittinghere.
Debating.
Contemplating.
IreallywanttopullthepinandtossthisbitchrightinsideLimerence.Bye-bye,whorehouseBye-bye,Russianassholes.ButeverytimeIgettheitchingtodoit,towatchitallgoBOOM,somethingstopsme.
Thatsomethingbeingmoreofasomeone.
Scarlet.
Yousee,shemightbeinside,andthat’sabitofaproblem.
Thekindofproblem,I’mdiscovering,agrenadejustisn’tsolving.
“Fivemoreminutes,”Isay.“Ifsomethingdoesn’thappenwithinthenextfiveminutes,I’mshovingthisgrenadedownhisfuckingthroat.”
Tick,tick,tick
Fourminutesandfifty-sevenseconds.
Isweartofuck,that’showmuchtimepassesuntilThreeappears.Hejogsrightovertothecar,dressedinallblack,blendingintothedarknesssincenightlongagofell.Anentiredaywastedwherenotagoddamnthinggotaccomplished
Aristovisstillhappilybreathing.
Scarletisstill,unfortunately,missing
Threeslidesintothebackseat,rightbehindme,slammingthedoorabitharderthannecessary.
“Three,”Isay,“youwerethreesecondsawayfromgettingyourbowelsblownouttoday.”
Hestartstotalkbutimmediatelypauses,browfurrowingashescootstothemiddleofthebackseat,lookingupatme.“IthinkLexie’sdonethattomebefore.”
Ilookathim.“What?”
“Yeah,isn’tthatwheretheysticktheirtongue—?”
Sevengroans,coveringhisfaceasheleansforwardagainstthesteeringwheel.
“Justtellmewhatyoufoundout,”Isay,cuttinghimoffbeforehegoesintodetailaboutthekinkyshitthey’vedone.“Anditbetterbesomething,becauseifIsatoutherewaitingwhileyougotyourdicksucked…”
“Ofcoursenot,boss,”hesays.“Keptitinmypantsthewholetime.Wewerejusttalking.”
“Well,don’tkeepmeinsuspensehere.TellmewhatyourlittleDaisyChainhadtosay.”
Hestartsspilling.I’llspareyoutheword-for-wordandsummarize,sinceThreeseemstoliketohearhimselftalkandhejustkeepsgoingonandonandon.
Scarlet’smostdefinitelyinside.Aristovhasherlockedinthebasement,onlyonesetofkeystogetdownthere,whichareusuallyinAristov’spossession.Securityistightenedatthemoment,whichiswhattookThreesolong.Wasn’teasynavigatingpastallthearmedguards.
“Thursday,”Threesaysafteramoment.“Iknowit’safewdaysaway,butLexiethinksthat’sourbestchancetogetheroutsafely.Aristovhasthepartyhappeningathishouse,soweknowhe’llbegone,andbythenhe’llrelaxsecurityagain,figuringhe’sintheclear,youknow?LexiecankeepaneyeoutforthekidatthehousewhilewegoafterScarlet,maybehitthemback-to-back.”
“Maybe,”Iagree,althoughitsoundsalotlikebullshit.Who’stosayAristovwon’tkillthembothbeforethen?Hell,maybethey’realreadydeadbecauseItooktoolongcomingupwithaplan.
Patiencehasneverbeenmystrongsuit.
I’mnotexactlykeenonwaitingforanything.
NoramIgoodatplanning,forthatmatter.
I’mtheshootfirst,askquestionsnevertype…youknow,thekindtotossagrenadeinapackedroomtosolveapersonalproblem?
“Or,”Isay,stressingtheword,“IcanjustwalkinrightnowandmakeitallgoBOOM.”
Threelaughsashesettlesintothebackseat,whileSevenstartsthecar,likehethinkswe’reabouttoleave.Idon’tlikeit,though.Ijustcan’twalkaway.Itfeelswrong,herbeingrightthereandmenotdoingagoddamnthingaboutit.
That’snotme
“Waithere,”Iorder,openingmydoorandclimbingoutofthecar.
Icarrythegrenadewithme.
Iknowtheguysnotice,becausetheysureasfuckshoutloudenough,yellingformenottodoanythingstupid.Butstupidissortofarelativeterm,isn’tit?Stupid,tome,wouldbecomingthewholewayhereandnotevendroppingintosayhellototheRussianbastard.Afterall,whenIcalled,Itoldhimtoexpecttoseealotofmeuntilthiswassettled.
Whatbettertimethanrightnowtogettheballrolling?
Istrollrightonuptothefrontdoor.Thebouncersseeme,recognizingme,suddenlyallonedge,buttheydon’tdoadamnthingasIwaltzpastthemandheadinside.Musicechoesthroughtheplace,maskingothernoises,althoughnoneofitisdetectableoutsideofthebuilding.
Soundproofingisquitegenius,givenhisbusiness.
IfIdidn’thatetheguysomuch,outofprinciple,I’dprobablylikehim.He’scrafty.Imighthavetostartborrowingabitfromhisbagoftricks.
AssoonasI’minside,rightthroughthedoors,hulkingbodiessurroundme—fiveguys,gunsdrawn,aimedatmyheadlikethey’dgetakickoutofbeingsplatteredwithmybrainstonight.
Iraisemyhands,stillclutchingthegrenade.Theycouldtrytotakeitfromme,trytodisarmme…hell,theycouldevengoaheadandshootmeintheface…butthey’dhavefoursecondstosavethemselvesbeforeweallgotblowntopieces.
Theytakeafewstepsback,butnobodylowerstheirweapons,likegunsaregoingtohelptheminthissituation.Rock,paper,scissors,motherfuckers…youbettertakeyourpickandhopelikehellyouwin
“Ijustwanttosayhellotoyourboss,”Isay,“andthenmeandBetty-Boomherewillbeonourway.”
Forsomereason,theydon’tlookliketheybelieveme.Itkindofhurtsmyfeelings.
Justkidding
Iwouldn’ttrustme,either.
AbarkofangryRussianechoesnearbybeforeAristovroundsanearbycorner.He’sfuming,soiratethathealmostdoesn’tnoticeme,butwhenhedoes,hestopsdeadinhistracks.Hiseyesflickeraround,assessing,beforehesimplynodshisheadtowardhisoffice,tellinghisguys,“Lethimin.”
Isteppastthem.Theydon’tlookhappyaboutit,butnobodytriestostopmeasIwalkovertoAristov’soffice,followinghiminside.HespewsoutmoreRussiantotwoguyslurkinginthere,whoimmediatelyvacatetheroom,closingthedoorbehindthem,soit’sjustmeandhim.
Heheadsforthevodka.“Soitistrue,then,thatyoudealinheavyweapons?”
“Astrueastherumorsofyoukidnappingandrapingwomen.”
Insteadofbeingoffended,helaughsatthat,strollingovertositdownononeofhiscouches,eyeingmeashesipshisliquor.Doesn’tescapemynoticethathehasn’tofferedmeadrinktoday.
Ithinkhemightbefeelingsometypeofwayaboutourfriendship
“Well,thatisashame,MisterScar,becausethoserumorsarenottrueatall.”
“That’sfunny,”Isay,eventhoughit’snotfuckingfunnyatall,“becauseIstumbleduponalittlehomemovieyoumadethatcontradictsthat,Aristotle.”
Hestaresatme,allamusementgone.“Andwhere,mayIask,didyouacquiresuchafilm?”
“Acertainpolicedetectivehaditinhispossession.”
There’sthatflashofrageIwashopingfor.
Hedrinksinsilence,guzzlingtheliquorashegetshisthoughtsinorder.Inthewronghands,ormaybetherightones,thatvideocouldbeaseriousproblemforhim.EvenJamesonwouldgivehisleftnuttogethishandsonit,touseittotakedowntheRussians,butI’mnotreallybigonlettingthejusticesystemdomydirtywork.
Ihappentolikegettingmyhandsdirty.
That’swhyDetectiveFuckfacehadit,whyhekeptithidden.Hemight’vebeenworkingfortheRussians,butintheeventAristovturnedonhim,heneededhisownlittlegrenadetomakehisproblemsgoaway.
“Whatisityouwantfromme?”Aristovasks.“IfyouarelookingforthemilliondollarsIpromised,IamafraidIdonothaveithere.ButbeingasIamamanofmyword,Iamhappytoarrangeatimeforyoutopickitup.”
“YouthinkIwantyourmoney?”
“WhyelsewouldyouhavegivenmetheaddressofwhereIcouldfindher?”
Istareathimwhenheasksthat.Iwanttothinkhe’stoyingwithme,thathe’sjusttryingtofuckwithmymind,buthisexpressionisdeadserious,almostcurious,likehe’sgenuinelywonderingwhyIwould’vedonesuchathing.Problemnumbersevenhundredandseventy-sixinmyliferightnow:Ididn’tdoit.Ididn’tgivehimagoddamnthing,butforsomereasonhethinksIdid,whichmeanswhoeverdiditmadeitlooklikeI’dgivenherup.Sonofabitch
“Ofcourse,itispossibleyoujustgrewsickofthesuka,”Aristovcontinueswithashrug.“Sinceitseemsyousawthevideoofhersweetsixteen,maybeyoujustdidnotwanttotouchheranymore,butallthesame,Iamgrateful.”
I’mnotsurehowtorespondtothat.
Ikindofwanttobreakhisfuckingjawforhalfofthewordshe’sspokenthesepastfewminutes.
“Doessheknowhowyoufoundher?”Iask.“Didyoutellheritwasme?”
Henods.“Shedidnotbelieveme,ofcourse.ThestupidgirlneverbelieveswhatItellher.Ishowedherthemessagesomaybeshewouldbelieveherowneyes.Itupsether,butsheisfinenow.Ihavewaysofmakinghergetoverthings.”
“Ibetyoudo,”Isay,mygazeflickeringaroundtheroom,settlingonadooralongtheside—oneI’massumingleadstothebasement.“AnychanceIcanseeher,giveherapropergoodbye?”
Helaughs,sippinghisvodka.“Ithinkyouhavegivenherquiteenough,MisterScar,butIwillsendheryourregards.”
Ibitetheinsideofmycheek.
Man,Iwanttokillhim…
“Now,ifwearedonehere,Ihaveotherbusinesstotakecareof,”hesays,standingup.“SeemsIhaveafriendIneedtotalktoaboutavideoinhispossession.”
“Seemsyoudo,”Isay,notbotheringtopointoutthathedoesn’thavethevideoanymore.Ido.Iturntoleave,stillclutchingthegrenade,andpauselongenoughtosay,“Bytheway,IthinkIwillbeclaimingmyreward.Amillion,cash,forher.”
Hedoesn’tlookhappy,becausethat’salotofdamnmoney,buthenods.“Iwillbeintouchtomakearrangements.”
“Good,”Isay.“Ilookforwardtoit.”
“Wait,MisterScar,”hesaysbeforeIcanwalkout.“Thegrenade…”
Ilookatitinmyhandbeforeglancingathim.“Whataboutit?”
“Doyouthinkyoucouldgetmesomeofthose?”
Ilaugh,becausehe’sseriouswiththatquestion.“MaybeonceI’msureit’snotmeyou’regoingtobeusingthemon.”
“Fairenough.”
Ileave.
Nobodystopsme.
Idon’twanttogo,butatthesametime,tonightisn’tthenighttorocktheboatanyfurther.IneedtowrapmyheadaroundthingsbeforeIdosomethingImightregret.
Idon’tregretthingsoften,butblowingusallupmightbeanexception.
Theguysarestillwaitinginthecarrightdownfromtheclub,theenginerunning,bothjuststaringatmelikeI’velostmymind.Liketheydidn’texpecttoseemealive.Igetinthepassengerseat,securingthegrenadebeforewaving.“Nowwecango.”
Sevenstartsdriving.Theatmosphereinthecaristense,wroughtwithunspokenwords,butitdoesn’tlastlongwithThreeinthebackseat.
“So…nothingwentBOOM,”Threesays.“Didn’thearanyBANG-BANG,either.”
“Itwasmostlyjustabunchofblahblahblah,”Isay.“Nobody’sdyingtonight.”
Ithink
“Pity,”Threesays.“IknowLexiewillbehappytobefreeofthatasshole.”
“Youseemawfullyconcernedaboutawomanwhosenameyoucouldn’tevenremembernotlongago,”Ipointout.
“Yeah,well,youknowhowitgoes,”hesays.“Idrewablank.ButIcan’thelpthatI’vegotasoftspotandLexiejusthappenstotouchit.”
“Theymakeapillforthatnow,”Isay.“Makesyouhardenthefuckup.”
Helaughs.“I’llbesuretobringthatuptomydoctor.”
Thankfully,Threestopschattering,theconversationdwindlingbacktosilence.ThedrivetoQueensfeelslikeittakesforever,trafficlightbutmythoughtsheavy,Aristov’swordsbouncingaroundinthetorturechamberIcallmymind.
BythetimeIseemyhouseagain,I’mwoundtight.
ThelastthingIwanttodoisdealwithpeoplerightnow,butmybrotherishome,inthelivingroomwithhisgirlfriend,cuddlingonmycouch.Atleastshe’snotsingingthistime,Ithink,asIpauseinthefoyer,glancinginatthem.Threeleaves,whileSevenfollowsme,likehemightbeafraidtoleavemealone.
Mybrother’seyesstudyme,lookingallaroundme,likehe’shopingtoseeScarlet.Disappointmentflickersacrosshisfacewhenherealizesshe’snothere,buthedoesn’texpressthesentimentoutloud.Melodyjustlaysthere,herfacepaleandsplotchy.Shelookslikeshe’sbeencrying.NotsureI’veeverseenherwithoutherfacepaintedbefore.
Somethingtellsmeshe’snothandlingthiswell.
“Ifyouneedme,I’llbeinmylibrary,”Isay,notawaitinganyresponsebeforewalkingaway.
SevenfollowsbutlingersinthedoorwayasIstrollovertothebookshelfalongthewall,carefullysettingthegrenadedown.Ireachintomywaistbandnext,pullingoutmygun,settingitdownontopofthemetalcase.
“Yougotmyphone,Seven?”Iask,pattingmyemptypocketsbeforeIturntohim,holdingoutmyhand.Iknowhe’sgotit.Heusuallydoes.
Ifit’snotinmypossession,it’sinhis
Pullingthesmallblackburnerfromhispocket,heapproachesme,handingitrightover.Ileanbackagainstthebookshelf,scrollingthroughthephone,findingnotextsatall.AsmuchasI’mnotatalker,I’mevenlessofatexter,notafanofleavingevidenceofmywordsaround.Nopapertrails.Butbeingaswe’relivingintheageoftechnology,sometimestextscomeinorgoout,creditcardbalancesandotherbullshit.Unavoidable.Whichmeansthosemessagesgoterasedsomewherealongtheway—andnotbyaccident,I’mguessing.
Look,I’mnotexactlyNancyDrewhere,butIcandobasicmath.Twoplustwoequalsfour,threeisthesquarerootofnine,andonlyonepersonhasaccesstothisphoneasmuchasIdo.
Sowhiletheremightberoomforreasonabledoubt,thisisn’tthecourtoflaw.Ifnotme,thenwho?Ifit’strue,mustbethepersonIentrustitto.
Slippingthephoneinmypocket,Ireachover,snatchingupmygun.BeforeSevencanreact,I’vegotitpressedagainsthischest,rightaroundhisheart.Hetenses,eyesaswideasthey’llgo.Helookshorrifiedbutnotexactlysurprised.
“Boss,”hesaysquietly,leavingitatthat,notbotheringtoaskwhatthismightbeabout.Hefuckingknows
“Iwasremindedofsomethingtonight,”Isay.“SomethingthatIdamnnearforgot.”
“What?”
“Evenyourshadowleavesyouinthedark.”
Myfingerisonthetrigger.Itwouldbesoeasytopull.Partofmewantstodoit.Blowaholeinhisfuckingchestandwatchhimbleedoutonmyfloor.
ButIhearmybrother’svoiceinthelivingroom,justdownthehall,talkingtohisgirlfriend,whoalreadyseemstobetraumatizedbythisall.
Notthathermentalstateisapriorityofmine,buthavingherplaywitnesstoamurderwillprobablybreakherbeyondrepair,andbeingasmybrotherseemstobefondofthegirl,I’mtryingtoavoidthat.
“DidyouseriouslythinkIwouldn’tfindout?”Iask.“DoyouthinkI’mstupid?”
Heslowlyshakeshishead.“Iknewyou’dfigureitouteventually.”
Nodenial.
Nobullshit.
Justastraightupconfession.
“Sowhywouldyoudothis?”
“Because,”hesays,“Aristovwascomingformyfamily,he’dbeentomyhouse,he’dtalkedtomywife,butyou…Iknewyou’djustcomeforme.Ihadtoprotectthem.”
Ialmostlaughwhenhesaysthat.Almost.WouldIkillhiswife?Probablynot.Hiskids?Doubtful.There’snopointtoit.I’dgetnothingoutofit.Butthesimplefactthathe’dgobehindmybacklikethismakesmewanttoslitalloftheirfuckingthroatsjusttospitehim.
“Getoutofmyhouse,”Isay.“Youdon’tgettobeamartyr.Notonmywatch.Sogohometoyourwife,toyourpreciousfamily,andgotosleeptonightknowingthere’salittlegirlouttheresomewhere,missinghermother…amotherwhoischainedupinabasement…becauseyou’reafuckingcoward.”
Hetakesastepbackbuthesitates,mouthopeningandclosing,likehewantstosaysomething.
Whateveritis,Idon’twanttohearit.
“Getout!”Iyell.“Now!”
Heturns,hisstepsbrisk,knowingIwon’ttellhimagain.Icanhearhimleave,slammingthefrontdoor,andIjuststandthere,clutchingthegun,staringatthespaceheoccupied.
Ifhe’ssmart,I’llneverseehimagain.
***
Silence
That’swhatI’mmetwith,standingintheoldwarehouseinBrooklyn,surroundedbymyguys.
Well,theguysI’vegotleft,anyway.
Silence
“So,wait,holdup,”Threesaysafteramoment,thefirsttoopenhismouthOfcourse.“BrunowasJudas?Seriously?OurBruno?”
“That’swhatIsaid,isn’tit?”
“Yeah,but…Bruno?”
Iturnawayfromhim,glancingintothecrateinfrontofmeattheshipmentofassaultrifles.Iknowhowhe’sfeeling.I’vebeenfeelingitsincelastnight.Blindsided
Ilettheguygettooclosetome.
Idependedonhimforfartoomuch.
“Ijust…wow,”Threesays,stilltheonlyonewithanythingtosay.“Thissucks.”
Theothersfinallychimein,mumblinginagreement.
“No,forreal,itreallysucks,”Threesays.“Imean,withBrunogone,who’sgoingtobebringingthesnacks?”
Abitoflaughterechoesthroughthewarehouse.
“You’readumbass,Declan,”Fivesays.“That’swhat’sbotheringyou?Whoyou’regoingtoturntowhenyougetthemunchiesintheafternoon?”
“Fuckoff,”Threesays.“It’savalidconcern.”
“It’scarrotsticksandgranolabars,”Fivepointsout.“Ifitmakesyourbitchassfeelbetter,I’vegotaknobyoucanslobon.Treatitlikealollipop.”
Ishakemyhead,reachingintothecrateandpullingoutthesleeknewAR-15astheybickerbackandforth.I’vestoppedlistening.Sameol’bullshit.I’mgratefulforit,thebackgroundnoise.Theyfightlikebrothersbutthey’dkillforeachother,andthat’sallthatreallymatters.
“So,wait,holdup,”Threesaysagain,raisinghisvoice.“Boss,whatdidyoudoaboutBruno?Imean,shouldIbesendinghiswifeflowersorsomething?”
“Maybeyoucanshackupwithhernext,”Fivesuggests.“Shecanpackyouyourownsnacks.”
“Huh,thatidea’snothalf-bad,”Threesays.“She’skindofhot,youknow,foranoldchick.”
“She’sbarelyforty,Deac.”
“I’monlytwenty-one,dipshit,whichmeansshe’solderthanmymother.”
“You’dstillfuckher…”
“Yeah,well,probably.”
“Ifyoufellasaredone,”Isay,holdingtheweaponoutforsomeonetotakeit,“wecangetonwithbusiness.”
Fivegrabsthegun.
“Forreal,boss.”Threestepsover,pausingbesideme.“Bruno?”
Ipickupanothergun,shovingitatThree.“Hatetobreakittoyou,buthiswifealreadyraisedtwosons…shedoesn’tneedanotherlittleboytotakecareof.”
Theguysmakenoises,pokingfun,asThreerollshiseyes.“Whatever.”
“Besides,”Isay,passinggunsouttotheothers,“yououghttosavetheflowersforanotherday,likeforwhenherhusbandisactuallydead.”
Theyalllookatmewithsurprise.
Again,Three’stheonlyonetochimein.“Whoa,youkepthimbreathing?”
“Fornow.”
“Butnotforever?”
“That’sreallyuptohim,isn’tit?”Iaskbeforemotioningaroundthewarehouse.“Cleartherestofthisshitout,moveitsomewhere…Idon’tcare…justgetitoutofhere.Whenyou’redone,burntheplace,leavenotraceofanyofus,justincase.”ChapterSixteen
ThelittlegirlwastiredSoverytired.Shewasn’tsleepy,though.No,shewasthekindoftiredthatfeltlikesadnesswithoutallthetears.
Herbodyhurt.
Theoutsidehurt,becausehershoulderstillfeltfunnyandshehadbruisesalloverfromfallingofftheroof,andtheinsidehurt,becauseeverythingwasallwrongandnothingfeltokayanymore.
Shewentbacktohidingagain,eventhoughitwasn’tagame,becauseshedidn’twanttoseeanyofthosepeople.Theyalllied,andweremean,andtheywouldn’tlethergohome,nomatterhownicelysheasked.
Soshehidforhours,fordays.TheTinManactedlikeshe’dturnedinvisible,likehedidn’tcareifshewasthere,whichwasweird,sincehe’daddedalarmsandlockstoallthewindowssotheywouldn’topenagain.TheCowardlyLionstillhungaround.Hesometimeslookedforher.He’dsearchunderbedsandinsideclosets,butheneversaidaword,juststaringatherbeforegoingawayagain.
Weekswentonthatway,weeksofisolation,ofsilence.Sometimesthelittlegirlwouldwhisperwordstoherself,wouldtellherselfstorieswhenshewasaloneinthedark,justtobesurethathervoicestillworked.Sandwicheswouldappearonthedeskinherbedroom,orsometimesinbrownbagsoutsidewherevershewashiding.Itstartedoutasstufflikefishandbologna,buteventually,itturnedintopeanutbutterandgrapejelly.
Shedidn’twanttoeatanythingfromthem,butshewassohungry,andthosewereherfavorite,sosometimes,shecouldn’thelpherself.
Thelittlegirldidn’tknowwhatdayitwasnow,orhowlongithadbeen,asshelaycurleduponthefloorofthekitchenpantry,staringatthelightfilteringinfrombeneaththecloseddoors.Voicescarriedthrough,somethatshehadn’theardbefore.Theydidn’thaveanaccentliketheflyingmonkeys.Thesewerejustvisitors.
“Wouldyoulikeasandwich?”theCowardlyLionasked,buthewasn’ttalkingtoher.Oneofthenewcomersstoodinthekitchenwithhim.
“No,”themananswered.Thatwasit.No
TheCowardlyLionlaughedattheman’sclippedtone.“It’sonlyPB&J.Youhaveeatenitbefore,no?”
Themandidn’tanswer.
“IhavebeeninAmericasinceIwassixteenyearsold,butitwasn’tuntilrecentlythatItriedonemyself,”theCowardlyLioncontinued.“Theyarenotbad.I’vecometoenjoythem,especially—”
“Idon’twantyoursandwich,”themansaid,cuttinghimoff.
“Ah,well,yourloss,”theCowardlyLionsaid.“Thereisnoreasontobesouptight.Yourbossisfine.Relax.”
“I’llrelaxwhenthisisallover,”themansaid.
TheCowardlyLionsighed.“Itwillonlyeverbeoverwhenmybrothergetswhathewants.”
Therewasacommotioninthehousethen.Thelittlegirlsqueezedhereyesshut,tryingtonotlisten,singingsoftlytoherself…thesongfromToyStory.Itwasn’tuntilthepantrydoorsmovedthatsheopenedhereyesagain,comingfacetofacewiththeCowardlyLionjustasthefrontdoortothehouseslammed
TheCowardlyLionkneltdown,settingasmallplateonthefloor,asandwichonit.Hewassquinting,hiseyewatering,puffyandswollen,likehegotpokedinit.Hesaidnothingtoher,noddinginsilence,beforestandingbackupjustastheTinManstormedintothekitchen.
“Followthem,”hebarked.
TheCowardlyLionwasgoneinablink.
Thelittlegirlsatup,grabbingthesandwich,hergazeshiftingtotheTinMan.
Hestoodthere,watchingher.
Itwasthefirsttimeinweekshe’dsomuchasevenlookedherdirection,sincethemorninghe’dpickedherupatthepolicestation.Theattentionmadeherqueasy,ormaybethatwasthehunger.Shetookasmallbite,chewingslowly.
“Youdonotlikeme,”hesaid,almostasadnotetohisquietvoice.“Idonotknowwhy.”
Thelittlegirlstaredathim.Shewasn’tsurewhattosay.Shewasevenqueasiernow,asshesetthesandwichbackdown.Itwastrue,shedidn’tlikehim.Shehatedhimsomuch.Butheshouldknowthat,shethought.Heshouldknowwhyshedidn’tlikehim.“You’remean.IwantMommy.”
“Andyouthinkitismyfaultyoudonothaveyourmommy?”
Thelittlegirlnodded.
Hestaredather…andstaredather…andstaredathersomemore,beforeheletoutadeepsigh.“Yourmother’sbirthdayissoon.MaybeIwillletyoutalktoher.Youcanaskhertocomehomeyourself.”ChapterSeventeen
Therearecountlesswaystotorturesomeone.Whipsandchains,fireandwater,fistsandkicksandunwantedtouches…sleepdeprivation,starvation,dehydration…brandingandcuttingandsuffocating…youcouldripmyfingernailsoutwithapairofpliers,butnoneofitwouldeverbeastormentingasbeingsealedawayinthedarknesswithnothing
I’mnotsurehowlongI’vebeenhere.Sleephasbeenmyenemy.Ittwiststime,manipulatingtheuniverse,stranglingmewithconfusion.NothinghasmadesensesincethefirstmomentIsuccumbedtoit.Ifallasleepinablackvoidandwakeupagainthesameway,inandoutofconsciousness,exhaustedandaching.Resentmentflowsthroughme,fillingmybatteredbodywithindignation,thefinger-shapedbruisescoveringmyskinrootedsodeepIcanfeelthemevenontheinside.
Mysoulhurts.
Wincing,Istretchmylegsout,sittingalongthebasementwall,proppingmyselfupagainstthecoldmetalcabinet.I’mwrappedupinanoldblanket,thematerialroughandscratchy,butit’sthickenoughtokeepmefromviolentlyshivering.Ihuddlehereinthecorner,swaddledlikeagoddamnburrito,awaitinghisinevitablereturn.
Kassiantookmyclotheswithhimwhenhewasthroughthefirsttime,leavingmelyingontheconcretefloor.Ipassedout,wakinglatertofindtherattyblanketontopofme,thechainaroundmyneckoncemore,apackofcrackersnearbyDinner
He’sreturnedahandfuloftimessincethen,inandout,disturbingthelittlebitofrestImanagetoget.HeasksifIwantthemattressyet,ifI’mreadytoaccepthisgenerosity,andeachtimeIrefuse,hegetsrougher.
Androugher.
Androugher.
Ablastoflighttearsthroughtheroomasthebasementdooropens.Isqueezemyeyesshut,pullingtheblanketfurtherup,shieldingmyface.Footstepsdescendthestairs,slowandmethodical,likearestrainedmarchtowardanexecutionchamber.Fitting
Idon’tlook,keepingmyheaddownasIhearhisapproach.Idon’twanttoseehim,nordoIwanthimtolookatme,butIknowthat’swishfulthinking.He’lldowhathewants.
Driedbloodanddirtcakesthesideofmyface,theskinrubbedraw,scrapesallovermybody.Hestormedoutlasttime,losinghistemper,leavingmetowallowaloneforfartoolonginthedarkness.
“Youarehidingfrommenow?”Hisvoiceiscalm,soclose…tooclose.“Doesthismeanyouaredonefighting?”
Idon’trespond.
Ihavenothingtosay.
Helaughsatmysilence,thesoundrunningthroughme,makingmeshiverbeneaththeblanket.Icantellhe’scroucheddown,canfeelhiswarmthdisruptingtheair,hiscolognewaftingaroundme,suffocatingmysenses.
“Ialwaysdidlovethataboutyou,”hesays.“Youaresostrong.Sopersistent.Itmakesyousomuchmorebeautifulwhenyouarebroken.”
Ipulltheblanketdown,awayfrommyface,andlookathimwhenhesaysthat.“You’llneverbreakme.”
Hismouthtwitchesashefightsoffasmile.
Reachingover,hepresseshispalmtomycheek,histhumbrubbingthescuffedskin.Itstings.HishandmovesasIgrimace,exploringmybatteredface.Itoleratehistouchuntilhisfingertipsgentlycaressmydrylips.Heleanstowardme,likeheexpectsakiss,butIturnaway,refusinghim.
Grabbingmychin,heyanksmyheadbacktowardhim,hisgripsoroughacryescapesmythroat.Hesaysnothing,staringmeintheeyes,hismouthjustinchesfrommine.Slowly,heleanstowardmeagain,closingtherestofthedistance,hislipsjustbarelyghostingacrossminebeforehepullsback.
“Ibroughtyouanotherpresent,”hesaysquietly.“Doyouwantit?”
“Notifit’saeuphemismforyourpenis.”
HelaughswhenIsaythat,likehefindsmegenuinelyfunny,andpullshishandawayfrommyface.Hestandsup,andeverythinginsideofmetenses,becauseIthinkthat’sexactlywhathemeans.Ithinkhe’sgoingtounziphispants,thathe’sgoingtopullitout,andI’mtired…sogoddamntired…ofbeingjustabody.Abodywithholes,butonewithoutaheartandasoul,abodytobetouchedandfuckedandtossedasideafterward.
Butinstead,hereachesintohispocketandretrieveshiscellphonebeforecrouchingdowninfrontofmeoncemore.
“Itisnothingthatexciting,”hesaysashelooksthroughhisphonetobringsomethinguponit.“Itisjustalittlevideo.”
Ifheexpectsmetoberelievedbythat,he’scrazierthanhelooks.I’vestarredinhisvideosbefore.Iknowhowtheygo.AndIknowtherearecamerasdownhere;Iknowhe’srecordingmyeverymove.ThelastthingIwantistohavetorelivethethingshe’sdonetome.
“Idon’twanttoseeit.”
Heraisesaneyebrow,likethatactuallysurpriseshim.“Youdonotwantyourpresent?”
“Iwantnothingyou’reoffering,”Iwhisper,turningaway,grippingtheblankettightertomeassomeofthecoldseepsin.
“Ifyouaresure,”hesays,standingbackupwithashrugandturningawayashesays,“Ithoughtyouwouldwanttoseeyourdaughter,butIguessIwaswrong.”
Iblinkafewtimeswhenthosewordshitme,watchingasheapproachesthestairs,likehe’sjustgoingtoleavethebasement.“You’relying.”
Hekeepswalking,hisstepsslow,buthecasuallyholdshisphoneup,pressingabuttononthescreen.
Instantly,I’mhitwithhervoice.
It’slikeabaseballbattothechest.Itknocksthewindfrommysails,theairoutofmylungs,myheartseizing,viciouslysqueezing,likenothinginsideofmewantstowork.Ithurts.JesusChrist,itburns.Tearsstingmyeyes.
Ican’tseeher,he’sblockingthescreen,buthervoicesweepsthroughmelikeawildfire.Herwordsaremuffledfromhishandoverthespeaker,butIcanhearmynameasshesaysit:Mommy
Sosweet,sohopeful,asshesaysthatword.WhatIwouldn’tgivetoseeherface,tohaveherinfrontofme,callingmethatagain.
TearsstreamdownmycheeksasIstifleasob,shovingupfromthefloor,awayfromthewall,stumblingovertheblanketasIclutchtightlytoit.Kassianstopsthevideo,hittingabuttonbeforepocketingthephoneagain,headingforthestairstoleavethebasement.
“Wait,”Icryout.
Hekeepsgoing,likehedoesn’thearme.
“Stop!”Iyell,rushingtowardhim.“Waitasecond!”
Icatchhimjustashe’ssteppingoutofreach,thechainchokingme,makingmegagasIgrabthebackofhiscoat,fistingthematerial.
Mistake
BeforeIcanevencatchmybreath,hewhipsaround,snatchingaholdofmyarmandtwistingit.Iletgo,cryingout,asheshovesmebackfurtherintothebasement,hisgriptight,hisfaceclosetomine.Hisexpressionisdark,sogoddamnangry,likehe’stryingtoskinmealivewithjusthiseyes.
“Don’tdothis,Kassian,”Iwhisper.“Don’tdothistoher.Don’thurtherthisway.”
Hecurvesaneyebrow.“Me?”
“She’ssoyoung,”Isay.“Shedoesn’tunderstand.Youcantorturemeallyouwant…I’lltakeit,allofit…butdon’tdothistoher.Sheisn’tlikeme.You’ll…”
“Breakher?”heaskswhenItrailoff,finishingthesentencethatIcouldn’tbringmyselftofinish.“YouthinkIwillbreakher?”
“Yes,”Iwhisper.
“Iamnottheonehurtingher,”hesays.“Youare.Allshewantsishermommy,anditisnotmyfaulthermommywouldratherstayhereanddothisthangobewithher.”
Idon’tsayanythingtothat,becausequitefrankly,Idon’tknowwhattosay.Nothingwillmakeadifferenceormattertothismanwhoonlyseestheworldinblackandwhite,whoviewseverythingwithtunnelvision,anAristov-centricviewpointwherenothingmattersexceptwhathewants,andforsomegodforsakenreason,whathewantsisme.Hewantsmebroken.Hewantstousemeasheseesfit,andhewantsmetobuckleandjustacceptit…acceptthatmylifeisnotmyown,thatmylifewillneveragainbemyown.Thatmystoryendstragically,lockedawayinhistowerwithnoonecomingtorescuemeandnowayformetosavemyself.
Anditwouldbeeasy…soeasy…tojustgivein,toletithappen,tolethimbreakme,sohe’llgrowtiredofthisback-and-forth.AndsomanytimesI’vebeentemptedtoletgo,tolethimwin,butIcan’t,becausesheexists.Thisbreathinglittlebody,onewithaheartandasoul…sheneedssavedfromitallbeforeherinnocenceisgone.Givingintohimwon’tspareher.It’lljustdoomhertoalifelikemine.Alifeofhurt,ofpain,beforeonedayhedecidesshe,too,isn’tworththetroubleshebrings.
Kassianloosenshisholdonmyarm,andIthinkhemightleave,butinsteadhereachesup,brushinghisfingertipsalongmybatteredcheekagain.
Hethinksmysilenceisasignofsurrendering.
“Doyouwantthatmattressyet,prettygirl?”heasks,hisvoicelowashegraspsmychin.“Itisuptoyou.”
Iremainsilent,staringathim.
“Youthink,bynotspeaking,thatyouaresayingnothing,butIhearyou,suka,”hesays,pressingrightupagainstme,makingmetakeastepbackashisgriponmychintightens.“Iknoweverythoughtthatpassesthroughyourmind.Stupidgirl,thinkingyoucanbeatmeatthis.Stillthinkingsomeoneisgoingtorescueyou,thatmaybeyourscarredlittleplaythingcares,butIamsorry,soverysorry,becausenobodyiscomingtohelp.Hewasheretwonightsago,upstairsinmyoffice,discussingthemoneyIpromisedforturningyouover,allthewhileyouwerelayingdownhere,sweaty,sticky,coveredinme.Ifhewantedyou,hewouldnothavejustwalkedoutthatdoor.Thesooneryougetthatthroughyourhead,theeasierthiswillbe.SoIwillaskyouoncemore,andthisisit…Iwillnotaskagain.Doyouwantthatmattressyet?”
Fuckyou.Thosewordsareonthetipofmytongue,desperatetospringfree,butself-preservationforcesthemback.AsmuchasIwanttosayno,thatIdon’twanthisgoddamngenerosity,IknowIcan’t…butIcan’tsayyes,either.NomatterwhatIsayhere,I’mwrong.NomatterwhatIdo,I’mtakingarisk,abigone…thekindofriskthatcouldleadtotheendofeverything.Soinsteadofanswering,Ijuststandhere,frozen,yetagainrefusingtoacknowledgehisquestion,whichisprobablythebiggestriskofall.
Errr…scratchtheprobably
Iseeitinhiseyes,theflickerofragethatIknowwell,sointensethatIgaspsecondsbeforeheevenactsonit.AssoonasIinhalesharply,hishandsarearoundmythroat,squeezing,choking.Ilashoutathim,desperatetogethimtoletgo,scratchinghisfacewithmyjaggednailsbeforetryingtopryhishandsawayfrommythroat,buthewon’tloosenhishold.Myvisiongrowsfuzzy,mychestfeelinglikeitmightburst,andIfightwithallmystrength,flailing,punching,clawing,butnothingisworking.
Nothingeverworks
Igrowsluggish,dizzinessrushingthroughmybody.Itstrikesmeatthatmoment,therealizationthatconsciousnessisabouttobegone,sointhatsplitsecond,IdotheonlythingI’vegotthestrengthtodo.Poke
IjammyfingersrightinhiseyesashardasIcan.
Heflinches.Hedoesn’texpectit.It’snotenoughtoincapacitatetheman,butitbuysmeafewmoreseconds,buysmeanotherdeepbreath.Airrushesintomylungsasheshovesme,mylegstooweaktoholdme.Islamintotheconcrete,bangingmyheadhard,painripplingdownmyspineaseverythinggoesblack.It’sonlyafewseconds,andIfeellikeI’mgoingtopukewhenIcomebackaround,butthereisn’ttimeforit,there’sonlytimetoreact,becauseIseehisfoot.
It’scomingrightatme,aimedstraightformyface.
He’sabouttostompmeintooblivion.
Ohgod,no
Iturnmyhead,curlingintomyself,goingfetalashekicks…andkicks…andkicks.Iprotectmyhead,protectmyface,butmybodyisalostcause.There’stoomuchofittoshieldfromhimasheripstheblanketaway.
Russianwordsflyfromhislips,toofast,toofuriousformetounderstand.Hislegmustgrowtiredbecausehestopskicking,insteadgrabbingme.Idon’tknowwhathe’sdoingasheyanksmearound,pinningmedown,untilhefumbleswithhispants,hisbodyontopofmine,ahandaroundmythroatagain.
“Ihavebeennice,”hegrowls.“WewillseehoweasyyoubreakwhenIamnotbeingniceanymore.”
Gotoyourhappyplace.
Gotothehouse,theonewiththereddoorandthewhitepicketfence,theonewhereyourdaughterusedtotwirlaroundonthewoodenfloors.Gobacktowherenighttimemeantkissesandhugs,bedtimestoriesandcuddleswithBuster.Gotowheresunriseswerepromisesinsteadofjustfalsehope.Gotowherelovestilllives.Gotowhereyouwerehappy.
Gothere
Staythere
Don’tbehereanymore
Ifade…fade…fadeaway,tryingtoignorehistouch,tryingtoignorethepainofhishandsandthebrutalityofhisthrusts.Itrytoignorethefeelofhisbreathonmyskinandtheuglinessofhiswords.It’shard,sohard,toblockhimout,whenhekeepssqueezingmythroat,stranglingtheairfrommylungs,makingmeteeterontheedgeofconsciousness.Itrytoimagineherinstead,trytoclingtoher,butherfaceislostintheshadows,hervoiceafadingwhisper.
Blackness
Blackness
Blackness
I’mchoking,gagging.Ican’tbreathe
Flashes,againandagain,flickersofrealityasI’minandoutofit.Igetlostintheblacknessfortoolongatonepoint,thepainstartingtofadeaway,asenseofpeacetakingover,beforeI’mviolentlyyankedbacktoreality.Gasping,IblinkrapidlyandclutchthechainaroundmyneckasI’mdraggedacrossthefloorbyit.Heletsgo,droppingmeontopoftheroughmetalgrate,andIwince,wheezing,tryingtogetair,butit’snotenough,ormaybeit’stoomuch,becauseIpassoutrightaway.
“Wakeup,”hesays,hisvoicecold,secondsbeforesomethingevencolderslamsmeintheface.Isputter,mychestonfire.He’ssprayingmewiththehose.Violentlycoughing,Iforcethewaterbackoutofmylungs,tryingtoturnaway,buthewon’tletmemove.Grabbingaholdofmyface,heforcessomethingpastmylips,intomymouth.Pills,Irealize,asIgnashmyteeth,bitternesscoatingmytongue.Toomanypills.Hepoursthemrightfromalittleorangebottle,stillsprayingmeintheface,beforedroppingthehose,forcingmyjawshutandpinchingmynoseclosedashedemands,“Swallow.”
Ican’t.Iwon’t.Idon’twantto.Ifighthimasheyanksmeuprightbymyhair,butIcan’tbreathe,mychestconvulsing.Thepillsslidedownmythroat,myearscloggingfromthepressureastearsstreamfrommyeyes.Satisfied,heshovesmebackagainstthegrate,standinguptoshutoffthehose.
Rollingontomyside,Istartheaving,forcingmyselftoemptymystomach.
“Throwthemupifyouwant,”Kassiansays,hisvoicecalm,“butyouwillregretitoncetheadrenalinewearsoff.”
Iignorehim,purgingasmuchasIcan,butexhaustiongetsthebestofme,andwhateverheforceddownmythroatworksquickly.Partsofmearetinglingasnumbnesstakesovermybody.Ilaydown,curlingup,shiveringfromthecoldasmyeyesfighttoclose.
“Ihateyou,”Iwhisper,myvoicecrackingaroundthosewords.
Kassiancrouchesdowninfrontofme,pushingmydamphairawayfrommyface.“Isthatso?”
“Yes,”Isay.“You’llneverbreakme.”
“Oh,butIwill,”hesays.“Yousee,prettygirl,Ihaverealizedsomething.Beingamotheristhemostimportantthingtoyou.Sowhiledeathwouldnotbreakyou,takingyourdaughterawaywill.”
“Youalreadytookher,”Iwhisper,myvoicesluggish.It’sgettinghardtostayawake,hardtokeepmyeyesopen.
“Imerelyseparatedthetwoofyou,”hesays,reachingintohispocket,oncemorepullingouthisphone.Hepressesafewbuttonsbeforeholdingitup,apictureofhercoveringthescreen,astillfromthepausedvideoheplayedearlier.“Sheisbeautiful,huh?Somuchlikeyou,thatgirl.Morelikeyouthanyoueventhink,becauseshehasnotbroken,either,whenIhavegivenhermorethanenoughreasonto.Shehidesfromme.Sherunsaway.Sheliesrighttomyface.AndIknow,despitewhatshesays,shedoesnotloveme.Shehatesme,justasyoudo.”
Istareatthepicturethroughblurryeyes,aflickerofasmileonmylipsasIwhisper,“That’smygirl.”
“Yes,sheisyourgirl,”Kassiansays,puttingthephoneawayashestandsbackup.“PityIhavetokillherforit.”
Assoonasthosewordshitme,Ishoveawayfromthefloor,tryingtositup,buttheroomisspinning…spinning…spinning…andIcan’tstomachitanymore.Iheaveagain,mytearscomingdownharderasIchokeonasob,collapsingbackontothegrate.Itrytoscream.Itrytotalk.Ineedhimtotellmehedoesn’tmeanthat,Ineedhimtotakeitback,butbeforeIcanfindanywords,he’sgone.
DarknesscreepsuponmewhenIhearthebasementdoorclose.AllIcanthink,asitsweepsmeaway,is‘thisisallmyfault.’
***
Inandout.Inandout.
Thedarknessdoesn’tcompletelyfade,refusingtoreleaseitsgriponme,asIlayhere,wastingaway.Briefflickersoflights,thehollowsoundofvoices,aspeoplecomeandgo,morepillsshoveddownmythroat,thecyclerepeating.
Igotomyhappyplace.
Iclingtoit,likeit’sallthatexists.
Ihavetobelieveit’sstillpossible,thattheworldIloveisstilloutthere,waitingformetofinditagain.
Ihavetobelievethatshe’soutthere.
Thatshe’sokay.
ThatI’llfindmywayoutofthisbasement.
Thatwe’llfindpeacetogetherafterthisisover.
Thatsomefairytalescanhavehappyendings.
I’mnotsurewhenthingschange,butslowly,thedarknessloosensitshold,thenumbnessfadingasthepillswearoff.AndthefirstthingInotice,whenI’mconsciousenoughtomove,isthatI’mlyingonamattress.
ThemattressIneverwanted.
TheoneIrefusedtoaskfor.
It’sinthecenterofthebasement,full-sizedandsoft.Memoryfoam,maybe.Nosheets,butthereisapillow,andI’monceagaincoveredbyablanket,likesomeonetuckedmein.Whatthehell?MyheartracesasIsitup,groggy,blinkingtotrytoclearmyblurryvision.Myeyesburn.Everyinchofmehurts,butIdon’tthinkanythingisbroken.
Exceptmysanity,maybe
Itrytoswallow,mythroatraw,butmymouthistoodry.Mytonguefeelsswollen.Ifeelaroundcautiously,shakyhandsexploringmyface.Idon’tknowwhatI’mlookingfor…deformities,maybe?Nothingfeelsreal
I’mokay,though.Ithink
Sicknessswishesaroundinsideofme.When’sthelasttimeIate?When’sthelasttimeIdidanything?Idon’tevenknowwhatdayitis.Howlonghasthisbeengoingon?
Whythefuckisthereamattressherenow?
ThebasementdooropensasItrytogetagrip.Ipulltheblanketaroundmetighter,alarmed,liketheflimsymaterialcanshieldmefromharm.Theoverheadlightsflickon,andIwince,hearingfootstepsonthestairscomingcloser.IexpecttoseeKassianwhenIpeekover,butinsteadI’mmetwiththeguardedlookofacuriousbrunette.Alexis
Sheclutchesabrownpaperbagassheapproaches.
Mystomachclenchesatthesight.
“Areyouhungry?”sheasks,holdingthebagout.“Ibroughtyousomethingtoeat.”
Ijuststareather.
Myheadispounding.
Frowning,sheopensthebag,reachinginsideofit,pullingoutthecontents:apiroshkiwrappedinplastic,asmallcontainerofpickledcabbage,andabottleofwater.Itisn’thardtotellwhopackedthislunch,anditwasn’ttheyoungAmericangirlinfrontofme.
Ipickupthebottleofwater,crackingthelidandslowlysippingit.
Iexpecthertoleave,butAlexisjuststandsthere,fidgetingnervouslyassheglancesbehindher.Afteramoment,shesitsdownontheedgeofthemattress.“Areyouholdingupokaydownhere?”
Ilookawayfromher,sippingmorewater.“I’malive.”
“I’mglad,”shesays.“Anddon’tworry,it’sgoingtobeokay.”
Shesoundslikeshebelievesthat,butwhatdoessheknow?Nothing.ShelivesherlifeatKassian’smercyjustliketherestofus.
“Whatdayisit?”Iask,takingonemoresipofwaterbeforescrewingthecapbackon.
“It’sThursdaymorning,”shesays.“You’vebeenherealmostaweeknow.”
Beforeeitherofuscansayanythingelse,there’snoiseonthestairs,morefootstepsapproaching.Alexisjumpstoherfeet,avertinghereyesfrommineassheheadsoutofthebasement.Iwatchherdartupthestairs,mygazestallingwhenitreacheshimcomingdown.
Kassian.
Ieyehimwarilyasheapproaches,hisstepsleisure,likehe’sgotnotacareintheworld.Hishandsareshovedinthepocketsofhisblackslacks,hissuitfreshandcrisp,hisshoesshiningunderthebrightbasementlight.Helookscompletelyputtogether…allexceptforthescratchesonhisface.Gashesmarhisjawline,hischeek,beforerunningdownhisneck.Theystilllookenflamed,swollen,theskinglowingpink.
Ilookdownatmyhands,seeingthebloodandfilthcakedundermynails.
Guessthatwasme
“Goodmorning,prettygirl,”hesays,grabbingthemetalchairanddraggingitoverbesidethemattress,sittingdowninit.Heglancesaround,pickingupthepiroshkifromwhereitlaysonthemattress.“YoudonotwantthefoodImadeforyou?”
“I’dratherhavepeanutbutterandjelly.”
Heignoresthat,unwrappingthepiroshkiandtearingitinhalf—ayeastrollstuffedwithsomething,Idon’tknow,butitsmellssogoodthatmystomachagainclenches.“Cheeseandpotato,justasIrememberyoulikeit…noonion.Neveronion.”
HeholdshalfouttomeandItakeitbutdon’teatit,despitethefactthatmybodyisbeggingforcalories.HecanrememberthatIhateonions,buthecanneverseemtorememberthatIhatehim
“Whatdidyoudo?”Iask,myvoicetremblingaroundthosewords.“Tellmeyouhaven’thurther…tellmeshe’sokay,thatyouwouldn’treally…”
Ican’tevenbringmyselftosayit.
Hetakesabiteofthehalfofthepiroshkihekept,chewingslowlyasheregardsme,beforehemotionstowardwhereI’msitting.“Areyouenjoyingyourmattress?”
“ItoldyouIdidn’twantit.Ineveraskedforit.”
“Oh,butyoudid,”hesays,continuingtoeat.“Doyounotremember?Youbeggedmeforit.”
“Ididn’t.”
Iwouldn’t
There’snowayIwouldbeg.
“Youdid,”hesaysagain.“Yousaidyouweresorry,thatyouwouldbeagoodgirl,thatyouwouldlovemeright…andyoudid.AssoonasIhadthemattressbroughtin,youshowedmehowgratefulyouwereformygenerosity.”
Tearsstingmyeyes.“You’relying.”
Asmileplaysonhislipsashelooksatme,eyescarefullyscanningmyface,beforehesays,“Icanbringyouthevideo,ifyouwouldliketowatch.”
Ishakemyhead.“Idon’tbelieveyou.”
“Youdonothaveto,”hesays,shruggingnonchalantly,“butitistrue.Youweresowetformewhenwemadelove.Icanstillsmellusinhere…canyou?”
Bileburnsmythroat,andItrytoswallowitback,butit’srushingthroughmetoofast.Hunchingover,Idryheave,gaggingoverthesideofthemattress.
BeforeIrealizewhathe’sdoing,he’scrouchingdowninfrontofme,hispiroshkilongforgottenashesmoothesmyhair,likehe’stryingtoconsoleme.Hegrabsthechainaroundmyneck,tuggingonitashepullsoutthekeys.Iwatchhimwarilyasheunlocksit,unwindingthechainandlettingitdropaway.
“Comeon,”hesays,meetingmygaze.“Weneedtogetyouwashedup.”
“Why?”Iaskquietly.“What’sthepoint?”
“Youdonotwanttobedirtyfortheparty,doyou?”
“Party?Whatparty?”
“Yourcominghomeparty,”hesaysasheraisesaneyebrow.“YoudidnotthinkIwouldmaketheguestofhonormissherowncelebration,didyou?”
“But—”
BeforeIcanfinishmythought,hishandclampsdownaroundmymouth,coveringit,silencingme,ashisotherhandsettlesonthebackofmyhead,pullingmecloser.“Idonotwanttoruinthesurprise,prettygirl,butIthinkyouwillbequitepleasedwithwhatIhaveplanned.YourememberhowmuchfunwehadatyourSweetSixteen?”
Myeyeswiden,andIstruggleagainsthisgrip,reachingupandgrabbinghishands,tryingtoprythemawayasIscreamintohispalm.
“Shhh,noneofthat,”hesays.“Youhavetobeagoodgirl,likeyoushowedmeyoucanbe,andwhenitisallover,IwillansweryourquestionaboutwhatIdidwithourdaughter.”
Hegivesmetimetocalmdownbeforelettinggoandstandingbackup.Heoffersmehishandthen,extendingittowardme.Foramoment,Ihesitate,juststaringatit,beforecarefullyreachingout,lettinghimpullmetomyfeet.Mylegsareweak,mykneesnearlybuckling.Ilookdown,ashetightlygripsmyhand,seeingthebruisescoveringme—someold,somenew,akaleidoscopeofpurpleandyellow,blackandbluewithsubtlegreenhues,asplatteringofbloodlikedarkredpaint.
I’mafuckeduprainbow.
Idon’tfightit.Idon’tfighthimashehooksupthehoseandwashesme.Idon’tmakeapeep,evenwhenitstings,evenwhenitburns,evenwhenhishandsareroughagainstabruiseorhegetssoapinascrape.Thewaterisicecold,andmyteethchatter,butIotherwiseremainstill,lettinghimdowhathe’sgoingtodo,thethoughtofgettingoutofthisbasementtootemptingtoruin.
HewrapsmeinatowelonceI’mclean,pushingmetowardthemetalchair,forcingmedownintoit.Hishandsareonmyshouldersasheleansdowntowhisper,“Donotmovefromthischair.”
Kassianleavesthebasement.
ItwouldbealietosayIdon’tconsidertryingtorun,butrunning,inmycurrentstate,issortofoutofthequestion.Icoulddoit,sure,butIwouldn’tmakeitfar,maybenoteventothetopofthestairsthistimebeforeIgotcaught.SoIsitstill,doingexactlywhathetoldmetodo,untilthebasementdooropensagain.
It’snothim,though.
It’sAlexis.
Shedescendsthestairsslowly,carryingasmallblackbag,settingitdownbesideme.“He,uh…hetoldmetohelpyougetready?”
Sheposesitlikeaquestion,likemaybeshedoesn’treallyunderstandanyofthis,either.Mygazeflickerstothebag,andIreachdown,unzippingittosortthroughthecontents—hairbrush,makeup,clothing.Ipullouttheskimpyfabric,eyeingthesee-throughblacklingerie,thelacygarterbeltandthigh-highstogoalongwithit.Idon’tevenhavetolookbackintothebagtoknowtherewillbeapairofredsix-inchheelstogowiththeoutfit,andsomewhere,mixedinamongthemakeupwillbeatubeofbrightredlipstick.
Hehasatype,remember?
Iignoreher,gettingdressedonmyown,liftingupjustenoughtoslipthelingerieon.Thebrushkeepsgettingtangledinmyhair,soIyankit,pullingoutknotswithoutanycare.Thereisn’tmuchIcandowithitmyself,sinceIdon’thaveamirror,soIdon’tobjectwhenAlexisjumpsinandtakesover.Shedoeswhatshecan…whatthatis,Idon’tknow.Doesn’treallymatter,either.Kassian’shandswillendupallthroughitlater,grippinghandfuls.
Whetherhe’llbedoingitoutofpleasureorangerisanyone’sguessatthemoment.
Alexiskneelsinfrontofme,pullingoutthemakeup,goingtoworkassheslathersfoundationallovermyface.Eyeshadow,eyeliner,mascara—allblack,justthewayKassianlikesit.Whenthatisfinished,shegrabstheredlipstick,butIsnatchitfromherhand,shakingmyheadasIthrowitacrosstheroom.
I’mnotwearingitforhim.
Shefrowns,notmovingfromherkneelingposition.“Whereishetakingyou?Doyouknow?”
“Home,”Iwhisper.
Thewordsoundswrong.Sowrong
Thatplaceisn’tmyhome.
Neverhasbeen,neverwillbe.
Hereyeswiden,panicflickeringacrossherface.“He’stakingyoutotheparty?”
“Hesaysit’sforme,”Isay.“Myownlittlehomecomingparadebeforethebiggame.”
“OhGod,”shewhispers,hereyesdartingallaround.“No,no,no…ugh,thisisn’thowit’ssupposedtohappen.”
Mybrowfurrows.“What?”
“You’resupposedtobehere,”shesays.“Thisiswherehe’scoming.Thisiswherehethinkshe’llfindyou.”
“Who?”
“Scar.”
Thewordisahissfromherlips,likeacursespringingfromthetipofhertongue.Scar.Mychesttightensatthesoundofit.“Lorenzo?”
Beforeshecanrespond,Ihearotherscoming.Alexispanics,springingtoherfeetandtakinganimmediatestepback,smoothingherhandsonthefishnetscoveringherlegs.
Kassianmakeshiswaydownintothebasement,followedbyafewofhisguys.Myhearthammershardasheapproaches,theguysstoppingneartheexit,blockingit.Backup.Hemightbelettingmeleavethisbasement,butthatcertainlydoesn’tmeanhe’sgoingtobeputtinganytrustinme.
“Suka,”hesays,stoppinginfrontofthechair,nudgingmychintoforcemetolookupathim.“Youarestillsittingthere.”
“Youtoldmenottomove,”Ipointout.
Hewhispers,“goodgirl,”ashisgazetravelsmyface.Histhumbsweepsacrossmydrylips,hisexpressiontighteningashelooksaroundthebasement,eventuallyfindingthelipstickbeforeturningbacktome.“Youdonotwanttowearit?”
“Wearwhat?”
Asmileflickersacrosshislips.
Strollingacrossthebasement,heretrievesthetubeoflipstickbeforereturning.He’snotgoingtoletitgo.Figures.Hecarefullyputsitonme,andIplayalong,becauseI’mrunningoutofoptionsatthemoment.Really,whatotherchoicedoIhavehere?
“Shoes,”hesays,pointingattheheels,orderingmetoputthemoninnot-so-manywords.Ugh.IglareattheshoesasIslidemyfeetintothem,sittingstill,notacknowledginghimanyfurther.
Heinspectsmebeforegrabbingmyarm,pullingmeupoutofthechairandshovingmetowardhismen.Iwobble,mymusclessore,alreadyoutofpracticewithwalkinginheels,butImanagetostayupright.
“Takehertothecar,”heorders.“Ifyouletherescape,Iwillkilleverysingleoneofyou.”
Iscowlashandsgrabme,clutchingmetightly.
Yeah,they’renotlettingmeoutoftheirsighttonight,that’sforsure.
Menfilterout.I’mmarchedupthestairs,mygazeflickeringbackdown,watching.Alexistriestofollow,butKassiancutsinfrontofher,blockingherexit.“Wheredoyouthinkyouaregoing?”
“Totheparty,”shesays.“YoutoldmeIwasgoingthisweek.”
“Yes,well,Ihavechangedmymind,”Kassiansays.“Ihavesomewhereelseforyoutobe.”
HerbrowfurrowsastwoofKassian’smencomeupbehindher.“Where?”
“Righthere.”
Themengrabher,andshestruggles,butthere’snotmuchshecando.Onepinsherdown,holdingherthere,astheothergrabsthechainandwindsitaroundherneck.Myfootstepsstall,alarmed,asshescreams,butIcan’thelpher.Nobodycanhelpher.ThemendragmeoutofthebasementwhenItrytoresist,pullingmethroughtheclubastheyushermeoutsidetoanawaitingvehicle.I’mshovedinthebackofanSUV,oneofthemenshuttingthedoorandstandingguardbesideitonthecurb.
Mygazesettlesonthedoorontheoppositeside,wonderinghowfarIcangetifIjumpoutandmakearunforitthroughthestreet.
Fuckit
Islideacrosstheseat,shovingthedooropentotry,whenKassianappearsinthedoorway,blockingit.Iimmediatelyretreatasheclimbsintothebackseatbesideme.“Iamgoingtopretendyouwereopeningthedoorforme.”
“Ofcourse,”Iwhisper.“Justreturningyourgenerosity.”
Hesettlesintotheseat,barkingsomethinginRussiantotheothers.AmangetsinthefrontseattodriveasKassianputshisarmaroundme.
“Youwillwanttobecareful,suka,”hesays,hisvoicelow,awarningtothewords.“Iwillbekillingpeopleyoucareabouttonight.Donotmakemekillyouontopofit.”
Ipullawaywhenhesaysthat,swallowingthickly.“What?”
Hecutshiseyesatme.“Donotlooksosurprised.Youmusthaveknownthiswascoming.”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Youlethimcomeinsideofyou.DidyouthinkIwouldlethimliveafterthat?”
“But—”
BeforeIcangetanythingelseout,hereachesup,coveringmymouth.
“Beagoodgirl,remember?Afterthefunisover,Iwilltellyouwhatyouwanttoknowaboutyourdaughter,butnotbeforewe’redone.”
Iblinkrapidlywhenitstrikesmewhathe’sreallysaying.
HewantsmetositidlybywhilehekillsLorenzo.
Hewantsmetoseeit,towatch,ashegetshisrevenge.He’sgoingtoforcemetoobeyhim,todonothingtostophimfromkillingeveryonewhotriedtohelpme,andhe’susingmydaughterasbaittomakemebecompliant.
He’smakingmechoose.
Becauseheknowsthere’snochoice.
Therewillneverbeachoice.
Itwillalwaysbeher.
I’llalwayschooseher.
Beforehim…beforeLorenzo…beforemyself.
Sasha’sallthatmatters.
TearsstingmyeyesasIlookaway.Ican’tstomachthesightofhim.Notever,butespeciallynotrightnow.
“Youdon’thavetodothis,”Iwhisperwhenhepullshishandaway.
“Iknow,”hesays.“ButIamgoingto,anyway.”
“Why?”
“Becausenoneofmyotherlessonseverstuckwithyou,”hesays,puttinghisarmaroundmeoncemore.“Maybethisistheoneyouwillremember.”ChapterEighteen
“Solet’sgoovertheplanonemoretime.”
Idon’tthinkI’veeverheardThreesoundquiteasseriousbeforeashedoesrightnow,sayingthosewords.Solet’sgoovertheplanonemoretime.Nevermindthefactthatwe’vebeenthroughtheplanadozentimesalready,thatwe’veanalyzedandassessedeverypossiblefuckingscenarioshortofahoardofgoddamnStormTroopersburstingin.Eventhewordsnuclearweaponshavebeenbroughtup.Butyet,Threewantstogothroughtheplanagain,onemoretime,justtobeonthesafeside.
Thisgirlofhisfromtheclubmusthavesomerealgoodpussyforhimtobesoconcernedaboutallofusmakingitoutofthis…includingher
“I’llheadtoBrightonBeachandkeepaneyeonthehouse.LexieshouldbeonherwaytothepartywithAristovrightaboutnow.She’sgoingtosignalmewhenshefindsthekid—flashalightorsomething.Ifshedoesn’tsignal,I’mgoingtoassumethekid’snotinthehouse.”
Theothersmumbleinagreement.
“I’llringyouallwhenshesignals,”Threecontinues.“You’llhittheclub,full-onambush,ateighto’clock,whethershesignalsornot.Lexiesaidshe’dmakesurethekeystothebasementwereleftonthebarinAristov’soffice,butthekeytothechain,well,hekeepsthatonhisperson…”
“Icanpickthelock,”Fivechimesin.“Notaproblem.”
“AndI’llkeeponwatchingthehouse,”Threesays.“Probablywon’ttakehimlongtobealertedtowhat’shappening—afewminutes,atmost,butitshouldbeenoughtimeforyoutogetMorganout.Ifheleaves,I’llwarnyouhe’sonhisway.Lexie’sgoingtotrytostaybehind…chancesare,ifyou’rehittinghisclub,he’snotgoingtobeworriedabouther…soshe’llgrabthekidandmeetmeoutsideoncehe’sgone,andthenwe’llallmeetup.”
Onceagain,theothersmumbleinagreement.
It’sanicelittleplan,barringnothinggoeswrong,butthat’stheproblemwithplanslikethis:somethingalwaysdoes.Peopledon’tactlikeyouexpectthemto,thingsdon’thappenthewayyouhope,andallittakesisonelittlehiccupbeforenobodyfuckingknowswho’sdoingwhatanymore.
“Allright,let’sdothis,”Threesays,standingup,therestoftheguysjoininghimontheirfeet.Theysaytheirgoodbyes,hypingthemselvesup,nothingshortoffuckingchest-bumpsastheygoseparatedirections,readytogetthisallstarted.
Sighing,Ishoveupoffofthecouch,gettingtomyfeet,andstrolloutofthelivingroombehindthem.
Ileavethisshittothem…theplanning.They’regoodatit,atorchestratingschemes,timingshittoworktoouradvantage.Itdoesn’tmeanI’mnotincharge,though,andtheyknowit.Theystillyieldtomeateveryturn.AllIhavetosayis‘no’andit’llcometoascreechinghalt.
Idon’tsayaword.
Notnow.Notyet.
I’vegotabadfeelingaboutitall,though.
Something’snotright.
ButIsureasfuckdon’thaveabetteridea,soI’llgowiththeirsuntilwehitaroadblock,andthenI’lldowhatI’mbestatdoing—makingshitup.
“Youwantmetodriveyourcar,boss?”Fiveasks.
Ihesitate,pullingoutmykeys,beforetossingthemtohim.Whynot?
Iclimbinthepassengerseat,relaxingback,asweheadsouthoutofQueens,downintoBrooklyn,makingourwaytoBrightonBeach.Webranchoutdifferentdirectionswhenwereachthearea,ThreemakinghiswaytowardAristov’shouseneartheshorelinewhiletherestofusheadtoLimerence.
It’sdarkout,nighttimefallingbythetimewereachtheclub.Wepullindowntheblock,parkingascloseaswecanget,asthecarcarryingtherestoftheguysparksacrossthestreet.
FivecutstheengineasIglanceattheclock.
7:21p.m.
Thirty-nineminutestogo.
Fiveglancesatme.“Youthinkthisisgoingtowork?”
“Whichpart?”
“Anyofit.”
Fivemightbethemostcynicalguyonmycrew.Highlysuspicious.Helistenstohisgutoneverything,buttheproblemwithhisgutisit’salltwistedup,makinghimaparanoidsonofabitch.Iappreciatethatabouthim,though.Hewon’tsugarcoatorbullshit.
“Itcouldwork,”Isay.“Probablywon’t,though.”
Hefrowns.“Idon’tthinkso,either.”
“Yougotanyotherideas?”
“Nonethatwon’tgethalfofuskilled.”
“Samehere.”
“Mightcometothat,”hesays.“Onlyoptionmightbegunsblazing,wholeshebang,alotofpeopledead.”
“Iwon’tletit,”Isay,reachingintomypocket,pullingoutmytin.Empty.Damnit.Stillhaven’tgottenaroundtorollinganyjoints.“Iwon’tletthistakeyouguysdown.It’smyfight,notyours.”
“Bullshit,”Fivesays,cuttinghiseyesmywayashepullsoutasmallbagofweedandaglassbowl,offeringittome.“Nooffense,butseriously…that’sbullshit.”
Itakehisweed,becausefuckit…Ineedtherelief.
“Beforeyoucamealong,wewerecastoffs,”hecontinuesasIpackthebowlandsnatchupalighterfromthecenterconsole,inhalingthesmokewhenIlightit.“Me?NotenoughItalianbloodfortheItalians,yettoogoddamnItalianforeveryoneelse.AndDeclan,nobodywouldhaveadamnthingtodowithaprettyrichboyfromMidtownwhowantedtodothisforthethrill.We’rethefuckingIslandofMisfitToys.SoIthinkIcanspeakfortherestoftheguys,too,whenIsayyourfightisourfight.Yougaveusachancetoproveourselves.We’renotgoingtopunkoutnowwhenyouneedusforsomething.Thatwouldjustproveeveryonerightwhosaidwewereworthless.”
Ipassthebowlbacktohim,sayingnothing,staringstraightaheadattheclub.There’snobodycomingorgoing,Inotice.
Iglanceattheclock.
7:33p.m.
Twenty-sevenminutestogo.
NothingyetfromThree,either.
Bad,badfeeling
Iwatchinsilenceforafewmoreminutes,asFiveandIpasstheweedbackandforth.Thehazefillsthecar,surroundingusboth,timesteadilypassing.
Tick.Tick.Tick.
7:45p.m.
Fifteenminutestogo.
Nothing
“YoueverseeReturnoftheJedi,Five?”
“No.”
Hisanswerisunapologetic.Turningmyhead,Ilookathimthroughthedarknessthatshroudsthecar,wonderingwhatkindofmonstersI’vebefriendedifhe’sneverseenStarWars
“Ifyousurvivetonight,”Isay,“we’regoingtohavetodosomethingaboutthat.”
“Whateveryousay,boss,”hesays.“Anyparticularreasonyou’rebringingituprightnow?”
“Because,asAdmiralAckbarsonicelyputit,it’satrap!”
FivecutshiseyesatmeasIpulloutmyphone,makingsurethesonofabitchisstillonsinceithasn’trang.“Youthinkwe’rewalkingintoatrap?”
“Isatoutheretheothernight,watchingthisplace,andinthespanofthirtyminutesIcountednolessthanadozenpeopleinandout.Tonight?Notasinglesoul.”
“Coulditbethey’reallatAristov’s?”
“Maybe,”Isay.“Butifthat’sthecase,there’snowayScarlet’shere.He’snotleavingherunguarded.”
“Soeithershe’snotinsideanymoreor…”
“It’satrap,”Isay,callingThree’snumber.
Hepicksuponthesecondring.“Yeah,boss?”
“Anythinghappeningoverthere?”
“Seemsprettyquiet,”Threesays.“Afewcars,afewlights,butotherwise,nothingunusual.”
“Shehasn’tsignaledyouyet?”
“No,”hesays.“I’mguessingthekid’snotinside.”
Orelseit’sanothertrap
“Holdyourposition,”Itellhim.“Don’tgointothathouse,Three.That’sanorder.Yougotme?”
“Uh,sure,”hesays.“Youthinksomething’swrong?”
“Iknowsomething’swrong,”Isay.“WereyouawareFiveherehasn’twatchedStarWars?”
“What?”
“Seriously,Ican’twrapmyheadaroundit,soI’mgoingtoneedafewminutes.Staywhereyouare,andcallmeifanythingchanges.”
Ihangup,tappingmyphoneagainstmycheekafewtimes,asifthat’llhelpmethink.PlanB.PlanC.PlanD.I’mquicklyslidingmywayrightdowntoX-Y-Z,butonlyoneideaisspringingtomind.
Well,oneideathatdoesn’tinvolveagrenade.Stillhaven’ttakenthatoffthetable.
“WhenHanSolorescuedPrincessLeiafromtheDeathStar,youknowhowhemanagedit?”
“Thissoundslikeitmightcontainmoviespoilers.”
Ilaughundermybreath.Smartass.“Hedressedupliketheenemy.Heputonastormtrooperuniformandwaltzedhisassonthrough,undetected.”
“So,what,weneedtobecomeRussian?Notsurehowthat’sgoingtowork…”
“No,wejustneedtonotbewhothey’reexpecting,”Isay.“Weneeduniforms.”
Idialanothernumber,waitingasitrings.Andrings.Andrings.Ithinkmaybehe’snotgoingtoanswer,butfinally,hepicksup,hisvoicehesitant.“Gambini?”
“Ah,Jameson,howareyouandtheboysinbluethisevening?”
“Wasdoingprettygooduntilyoujustcalled,”hesays.“Youneedsomething?”
“Ineedyoutoraidaplaceforme.”
“Whatplace?”
“ThisplaceAristovrunsdowninBrightonBeach…Limerence.”
Hedoesn’trespondrightaway.
“YouhearwhatIsaid,Jameson?”
“I’mhopingnot,”hesays,“becauseitsoundedlikeyouwereaskingmetoputtogetheraraidonastripclubinBrooklyn,whereIdon’thaveanyjurisdiction,withoutanyprobablecause.”
“Well,it’smorelikeawhorehouse…”
“There’snoway,”hesays.“Nojudgeisgoingtosignoffonthat.”
“Idon’texpectyoutogetasearchwarrant.Ijustneedyouandtheguysto,youknow…goin,lockitdownforme,soIcantakeaquicklookaround.”
Hecursesunderhisbreath.
“Icantalktotheguys,seeifwecanworksomethingout,”hesays.“Whendoyouneedthistohappen?”
Iglanceattheclock.
7:50p.m.
“Inabouttenminutes.”
“You’rejoking,”hesays.“Ican’tevenfuckinggettoBrooklynintenminutes,Gambini.”
“Well,then,youmightwanttousethesiren,”Isay.“I’lloweyouone.”
Ihatethosewords.I’lloweyouone.Ihateowinganybodyanything.Butitdoesthetrick,likeIneeditto,becausehetellsmetoholdtightbeforehehangsupthephone.
“Uniforms,”Fivesays.“Smart.”
“Yeah,well,we’llseeifitworks.”
Anotherfewminutesgoby,stillseeingnosignoflifearoundtheclub.Light’son,butnobody’shome
Eighto’clockcomesandgoes.
Nobodymakesamove.
Planofficiallyfucked.
8:17p.m.
Iseethecarsspeedby,whippinginalongthecurb—twounmarkedNYPDcruisersandanunmarkedSUV,lightsandsirenoff,tryingtogoundetected.Theofficersclimbout,conversing,gettingtheirgeartogetherasJamesonstandsalongthecurb,eyesscanningtheneighborhood,fallinguponme.
Insteadofapproaching,hepullsouthisphone.
Mineringssecondslater.
“Onlyseventeenminuteslate,”Itellhim.
“You’reluckywe’rehereatall,”hesays.“DamnluckyoneofAristov’sguyshasanactivefelonywarrantinthesystem,andtheclubisopen,becauseitgivestheguyssomeleewaytogorightin,nojudgeneeded.”
“Well,let’shopetheluckcontinues,”Isay,“becausetheremightbeawomanchainedupdowninthebasementthatneedstobesetfree.”
Heletsoutalowwhistle.“Notyourwoman,isit?”
Igivehimthatone,notcorrectinghimonherbeingmine.Webothknowwhohemeans.“Yeah,that’swhatwe’rehearing.”
“Jesus…you’reserious?Howthehelldidhegether?Thoughtshewaswithyou.”
“Longstory,”Ilie.It’ssortofasimpleone—myclosestguybetrayedus,turningintoabiggerratthanPeterPettigrewinHarryPotter.Yeah,whatever…you’rewonderinghowIknowwhothatis,huh?Truthis,mybrother’sgotanerdyside.Hereadthebooksasakid,wouldn’tshutupaboutit.“Look,justgoin,securethebuilding,makesureit’sclear,thengivemethesignalsoIcancometakeapeek.”
“Gotit,”hesays,hesitatingbeforeadding,“What’sthesignal?”
Sighing,Ipinchthebridgeofmynose,mumbling,“Dosomejumpingjacks,forallIfuckingcare.Justmakesomethingup.I’llknow.”
Ihangupbeforehecanrespond,tossingmyphoneuponthedashboardtogetitoutofmyhandbeforeIsnapthefuckingthinginhalfoutofannoyance.
8:21p.m.
Theplainclotheswarrantsquadrushesintothebuilding,gunsdrawn.Allissilent.Nogunshots.
8:25p.m.
Jameson’sonhisphone.Heturnstowardmeinthecar,not-so-subtlytappingthesideofhisnose.
“Isheoncoke?”Fiveasks,watching.
“Wouldn’tsurpriseme,”Imutter.“Comeon,that’llbeoursignal.”
Wegetout,asdotherestofmyguys,leavingtheheavyweaponsstashedinthetrunks,sincethepolicearenowinvolved,smallgunshiddenonusjustincasesomethinghappens.
Thereareafewguysinsidetheclub,twiceasmanygirls,allofthemlinedupalongthewall,sittingonthefloorwiththeirhandsvisible.Officersstandguardinfrontofthem,keepingthemwrangled,asIwalkrightinandhelpmyselftoAristov’soffice.
Thekeysaren’twhereThree’sgirlsaidthey’dbe,butIfindthemeasilyenough,tossedinadrawer.Thebasementdoorishereintheoffice,andIfumblewiththekeys,tryingtofigureoutwhichonegoestowhichlockasmyguysstandguardnearby.
Fiveisrightbehindme.
“Here,”hesays,snatchingthekeysfrommyhand.“Letmedothisforyou.”
Undernormalcircumstances,Iwould’velostmycooloverthat,butbeingasI’minahurry,Iletitgo…fornow
HegetsthedoorunlockedalotquickerthanIcould,andIflickonalightasIpulloutmygun,justincaseI’mabouttobeambushed.
It’squiet,andstill,likenobodyishere.
“Scarlet?”IcalloutasIheaddownintothebasement,myvoiceechoingoffthebarrenconcretewalls.
Noanswer.
IcometoanabruptstopatthebottomofthestepsasIlookintheshadows,beingmetwithapairofdiscardedredheels.
That’sneveragoodsign.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck
Justinchesfromwherethey’dbeenkickedoffinwhatlookslikeastruggle,Ispotapairoffeet,theblackpantyhosecoveringthemripped.Theypeekoutfromthebottomofatatteredblueblanket,butIcan’tseeanythingelse,therestcovered.
IfeellikethefuckingGrinchasIstophere,staringatwhat’sclearlyalifelessbody.Myheartfeelslikeit’swaytoobig,theonlythinginsideofme,eachbeathardandhesitant,likeit’ssqueezingthelifeoutofmyfuckingchest.
“Boss,what—oh,whoa…fuck.”
Fiverodethewholegauntletofemotionwithjustthatonesentence.Confusion.Shock.Distress.
Hestallsthere,takingmyplaceasIstepforward.Reachingdown,Igrabtheblanket,pullingthetoppartofitdowntolook.
Iexhaleloudly—toodamnloudly—thesecondIseetheface.Three’sprettylittlebrunetteischainedtotheconcretefloorlikeadog,makeupstreakinghercheeks.She’snotbreathing.Thechainiswoundsotightlyaroundherneckthatitasphyxiatedher.
She’salone,though.
Notthatitmakesitanybetter.
She’snotsupposedtobehereatall.
Shewassupposedtobeatthehouse.
ShewassupposedtosignalThree.
Shewassupposedtogetthekidout,butinstead,heresheis.Andtheworstpartofall,Ithink,isthatthesightofherisbringingmerelief.
Itcouldbeworse.Alotworse.
ItcouldbeScarlet.
Foramoment,justaflicker,Itrulythoughtitwas,andthewaythat’smakingmefeelinside?Idon’tlikeit.Ithasmealltwistedup.
Ilowertheblanketbackoverthegirl’sface,coveringheroncemore.Istandinsilence,tryingtocometotermswithwhateverthisisI’mfeeling.
“Isit…?Fuck,boss,Ineedyoutosaysomething.It’snother,isit?IsthatMorgan?”
Iglanceathim.Helookslegitimatelyconcerned,likethesonofabitchmightbegettingemotional.“No.”
Hiseyeswiden.Iseeitinhim,too.Relief
“It’sThree’sgirl,”Isay,headingforthesteps.“Guessweknownowwhyshedidn’tsignalhim.”
Fiveblinks,thereliefgoneashelookspastme,whispering,“Fuck,thisisgoingtohurtDeclan.”
Imakemywayoutofthebasement.Fivefollowsme,rightonmyheels.There’snoreasontolingeranylonger.Whatwecameforisn’there,likeIfeared.Inodmythankstotheofficersandheadoutthefrontoftheclub,outintothepeculiarlywarmnight,empty-handedandoutofluck.
IwishIcouldsayIwasalsooutoffucks,butno,thosejustkeepongrowing,simmeringandfestering.Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,Ifeelthisstrangetwingeinsideofme.It’shardtodescribe.It’satighteninginmychest.It’satinglinginmyfingertips.Itfeelsasifmylungsaretrembling,liketheweakpunkbitchesaretryingtostopfunctioning.Thewomanhasgotmeallfuckeduphere,flippedupsidedownandinsideout.
It’slikethestrikingofamatch.
Allitneedsisthatspark.
“Iwantyoutokeepaneyeonmybrother,”Iordertherestofmyguys.“FiveandIwillgogetThree.”
Jamesonstandsthere,eyeingmewarily,asthemenscatter.“Thatsoundslikeamathproblem.”
“It’ssomekindofproblem,allright,”Fivemumbles.
“There’sadeadgirldowninthebasement,”ItellJameson.“Andfortherecord,beforeyouask,shewasalreadydeadwhenIgotthere.”
Hiseyeswiden.“She’sdead?”
“It’snothisgirl,”Fivesays,answeringformeasIheadtowardmycar.“It’ssomebodyelse’s.”
Iclimbinthepassengerside,waitingforFivetohurryup,andsnatchmyphoneoffthedashboard.NothingfromThree.Ofcourse.Idialhisnumber.Itringsandringsandringsbeforevoicemailkicksin.
Ihangup,tryingagain.Nothing
“Fuck!”Iyell,throwingthephone.Itslamsintothewindshieldsohardthedamnthingcracks,thephonebouncingoff,hittingFiveashegetsinbehindthewheel.Itbouncesoffofhim,too,tumblingtothefloorbyhisfeet,ringingshatteringthetenseairthemomentitlands.
“Answerthat,”Isay,“andtellThreeIsaidhebetternotbedeadorI’llkillhim.”
Fivepicksitup.“Boss,Idon’tthinkit’sDeclan.”
Heholdsitup.Brooklynnumber.Irecognizeitrightaway.Aristov
Isnatchthephonebacktoanswerit.“Gambini.”
“Ah,MisterScar,Iamsorryithastakenmesolongtocontactyou.Ihavebeenquitebusy.”
“Soitseems,”Isay.“Whatdoyouwant?”
“ToletyouknowthatIhaveyourreward,”hesays.“Feelfreetostopbytonight,ifyouwouldlike,soIcanmakesureyougetwhatyouareowed.”
“Yeah,okay,”Isay.“Imightjustdothat.”
Ihangupwithoutwaitingonhisresponse,tossingthephoneontothedashagainasImutter,“FuckingRussians.”
“WasthatAristov?”Fiveasks.“Whydidhecall?”
“Toinvitemeover.”
“Areyougoing?”
“Whatdoyouthink?”
Fivestartsthecar.“Ithink,ifyougo,you’renotgoingwithoutus.”ChapterNineteen
Busterwasgone
Thelittlegirlstoodinthedoorwaytotheden,staringupatthefireplacemantle.Howlonghadhebeengone?Shewasn’tsure,becauseshenevercameinhereanymore.Panicfloodedher,hereyesdartingaround.“WheredidBustergo?”
TheTinManstoodinthemiddleoftheroom,turninghisheadtolookather.“Away.”
“Where?”sheasked.“Whatdidyoudowithhim?Whydidhegoaway?”
“Itdoesnotmatter,”theTinMansaid,wavingheroff.“Busterisgone.”
Thelittlegirl’sstomachfeltlikeitdroppedtoherfeet.“No,Daddy!Gethimback!Please!”
“No.”
No.No.No
“Please!”shescreamed,runningthroughtheroom.“Ididn’tdonothing!Ididn’t!I’vebeengood!Don’tburnupBuster!”
Hestoppedherbeforeshecouldmakeittothefireplace,beforeshecouldlook.Shehadtosee.
Thelittlegirlfought,butitwasfornothing,becausetheTinManwastoostrong,likehewastrulymadeofmetal.Heclampedhishanddownontopofherhead,thesimpletouchenoughtostopherinhertracks.Shegrabbedhiswrist,tryingtopullhishandoff,pushingagainstitwithherheadasshescreamed,“Stopit!Don’tdothat!Letmego!Iwannago!”
“Where?”heasked,glaringdownather.“Wheredoyouwanttogo,kitten?”
“Home!”shescreamed,hittinghisarmashardasshecouldwithaclenchedfist.“Idon’tlikeyou.You’remean.Youtalkugly!Youdon’tloveme.Mommylovesme!Idon’twannabeherenomore,soletmego!”
Heletgo.
Justlikethat.
Heletgosofastshestumbled,falling.
Beforeshecouldgetbackonherfeet,hesnatchedherrightupwithjustonearmandhauledheroverhisshoulder,carryingherout.Hemovedfast,headingthroughthefoyer,disablingthealarmandyankingthedooropentostepoutintothecoolnight.
TheTinManshovedherintohiscarbeforegettingin,drivingawayfromthebigpalaceasshestartedcrying.“Wherearewegoing?”
“Home,”hesaid.“Thatiswhatyouwant.Yousayyourhomeisnotwithme,thatyouwantyourmommy.Sofine,Iwilltakeyouhome.”
Thelittlegirlstartedshaking—thegoodway,thistime.Home.Shewasgoinghome?
“Thankyou,”sheblurtedout.Shethoughtmaybeitcouldbeatrick,butshecouldn’thelpherself.
Hecuthiseyesather,hisvoicequietashesaid,“Anythingforyou,kitten.”
Halfanhourlater,theypulledupinfrontofthefamiliarhouse.Thelittlegirlhadn’tseenitinsomanymonths,butsherecognizeditrightaway.Home.Heparkedoutfrontandhauledheroutofthecar,motioningtowardthehouse.“Goon.”
Thelittlegirlranrightforit.
Shedidn’trealize,untilshereachedthedoor,thatitwasalldarkinside,nolightson.TheTinManstrolledalongbehindher,pausingontheporch,leaningagainstthehouseashewatchedhertrytoopenthefrontdoor.
Locked
Thelittlegirlknockedandknockedandknocked,callingoutforhermother,buttherewasnoanswer.Shepoundedonituntilherfistached,runningaroundtheoutsidetopeekthroughwindows,butshecouldn’tseeanything.
“She’snothere,”thelittlegirlsaid,“butshewillbe,Iknowit.She’llcomehomesoon.”
“Wewillwait,”theTinMansaid,glancingathiswatch.“Wewillstayhereaslongasittakes.”
Thelittlegirlsatdownontheporch.
Halfanhourturnedintoanhour,whichturnedintoforever.Hours…andhours…andhours.Thelittlegirlshivered,huddlinginhershirt,hereyesheavy.Sotired
Itwasnearingsunrisewhenshealmostfellasleepontheporch,leaningagainstthethickrailingcolumn,lettingitsupporther.Hereyeswereclosed,resting,whensheheardfootsteps.Herheartraced,eyessnappingopen.Mommy?
NotMommy.
TheCowardlyLionstoodonthepathwayinfrontofher.Helookedangry,notverycowardlyanymore.Heglaredpasther,atwheretheTinManstillstood.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Shewantedhermother,”theTinMansaid,“sowearewaitingforhertocomehome.”
Thatanswerdidn’tmaketheCowardlyLionanyhappier.“Youknowdamnwellhermotherisn’tlivinghere.”
TheTinMansaidnothing.
Thelittlegirlglancedbackathim.Whatdidthatmean?“Where’sMommy?Whydoesn’tshelivehere?”
“Lookwhatyouhavedone,”theTinMansaid,hisgazefixedtotheCowardlyLion.“Youhavegoneandupsether.”
“Thisisnotme,”theCowardlyLionsaid.“Whatyouaredoinghereiscruel,Kassian.”
“Hermotheristheonethatmovedon.Sheistheonewithanewlifeinthecity,onewithoutherdaughter…newfriends,newlover,neweverything,andnoSasha.”
Thelittlegirlfranticallyshookherhead.“No,Mommywouldn’tdothat.”
TheTinManlookedather.“Yourmotherisgone,kitten.Ihavetriedtofindher,butshedoesnotwanttobefound.Sheistheonehidingnow.Butyoudonotlikeme.Youdonotlikemyhome.Sohereyouare,wherethereisnobodytocareforyou.”
Heshovedawayfromthehouse,steppingofftheporch,pausinginfrontoftheCowardlyLion.
“Dosomethingwithher,”theTinMansaid,“sinceyoucannoteverseemtofindherbitchmother.Doyouthinkyoucanhandlethatmuch,Markel?”
TheCowardlyLionstaredhimintheface,sayingnothing.
TheTinManshovedagainsthim,knockinghimoutofthewayasheheadedtohiscar.
Thelittlegirlgottoherfeettofollow,tearsfallingdownhercheeks.“Wait,Daddy!”
Heshookhisheadasheturnedtoher,holdingupahand.“No,thisiswhatyouwanted.Youthankedmeforit.Youarejustlikeher.Ihopeyouarehappy.NoMommy.NoBuster.Andnow,nome.Nohome.Nolove.Nofood.Sogoodluck,mykitten,withnothing.”
Thelittlegirlstoodthere,crying,ashedroveaway.SheshouldbehappytheTinManwasgone,shouldn’tshe?Sowhydidherinsidesfeelsoempty?
“Donotcry,sweetgirl,”theCowardlyLionsaid,placinghishandonhershoulder.“Youwillbeokay.”ChapterTwenty
Thephonedropstothecoffeetablewithathud.
Istareatitasthescreengoesdark,myfingersitchingtoreachforit,butIdon’tmove.Legspulledup,armsaroundthem,chinrestingonmyknees,IjustsithereonthefloornearKassian’schair,rightbyhisfeet,whereheusedtoalwaysmakemesit.
Easyaccess,hesays.
Alwayswithinarm’sreach.
Hishandpressesagainstmyhair,smoothingit,pettingme,absentlytwirlingstrandsaroundhisfingers.Myscalptingles,eventhoughIwishitwouldn’t.Iwantnopartofmetoeverreacttoanypartofhim,butit’sunconscious.Ican’tstopit.Thenerveendingsaretraitorous,sparkingfromthegentletouch,nomatterhowcruelthemanattachedtothosehandsmaybe.
Itmakesmesicktothestomach.
Orsicker,rather.
HisphonecallwithLorenzowasenoughtomakemewanttothrowup.
“Itwillnotbelongnow,”Kassiansays,hisvoicelow.“Thefunwillsoonbegin.”
Ishakemyhead,whispering,“He’snotcoming.”
“Youdonotthinkso?”
“He’ssmarterthanthat,”Isay.“He’snotgoingtoshowupherejustbecauseyousuggestedit.”
“Oh,Ithinkyouarewrong.Infact,Ithinkheisalreadyonhisway.Maybenotforthemoney.Maybenotforyou.Buthewillcome,becauseheisnotthetypetoturndownaninvitation,andwebothknowthat,prettygirl.Hewillshowhisuglyfacesoon.”
Themorehespeaks,themorehisgriponmetightens,thetinglesreplacedwithpainashetangleshisfingersthroughmyhair,fistingahandful.Iwinceashetugsmyheadback,strainingmyneck,forcingmetolookupathim.
“Butmaybeyouareright,”hesays.“Youwillbeluckyifhedoesnotshow.Becausewhenhegetshere,thefirstthingIamgoingtodoisfuckyou.Righthere,likeweusedto,rightwhereeveryonecanwatch.Imightevenlethimjoin,lethimtakeyouonelasttime,killhimwhileheisdeepinsideofthatsweetpussy.Wouldyoulikethat,suka?Beingthelastthingheeverdoes?”
Idon’trespond.Idon’treact.
Man,thatmakeshimmad.
Hischeektwitches.Heshovesmeaway,nearlyknockingmyheadintothetablefromtheforceofitasheslouchesinhischair.Irubmysorescalpfromwherehepulledmyhair,myfaceflushingwhenIglancearoundtheroom.
Everybody’swatchingus.
Watchingme,rather.
BeforeIcandwellonit,Ihearthefrontdooropen.Thealarmisdisabledasathickaccentechoesthroughthefoyer.“Vor!”
Markel.
Itense,hearingastruggle,ascuffle,beforeMarkelappearsinthedoorway.He’snotalone,though,andpartsofmeviciouslytwistattherecognition,asMarkeldragsanotherguywithhim.Declan
“Ah,Mr.Jackson!Howniceofyoutojoinus!”Kassianwavesintotheroom.“Haveaseat.Wewerejustwaitingforyourbosstomakeanappearance.”
DeclanstrugglesasMarkelshoveshimfurtherintotheroom.Hislipisbusted,bleeding,thesideofhisfaceswollen.Hefought,hard,butyoucan’ttellitlookingatMarkel.He’sallputtogether.
Well,exceptforhiseye—stillswollenandbloodshot,amilkyhazecoatingit.Oops
HeshovesDeclandownontothecouchacrossfromme,hiseyesonmyface.Icanfeelhisgaze,evenafterIlookaway,myattentionreturningtoKassian’sphone,discardedonthetablejustinchesaway.Myheartisracinglikeajackhammer,bangingagainstmybruisedribcage.
“Ihavetousethebathroom,”IwhisperwhenKassian’shandweaselsitswaybackintomyhair.
“No,”Kassiansays,barelypayingmeanyattentionashesnatchesupabottleofvodkafromthetable.
“I’llmakeitfast,”Itellhim.“Ipromise.”
Heignoresme,drinking,hiseyesfixedonDeclan.
“Kassian,Ireallyhavetopee.”
MyhandslipsbeneathhispantlegasIshiftposition,graspinghisbarecalf.Itcatcheshimoffguard,metouchinghim.Hereactsinstinctively,shovingmeoff,throwingmerightintothesmalltable.Iwince,theblowhardenoughtorocktheflimsywood,knockingthingsoff.Bottlestipover,andpeoplescrambletograbthembeforetheliquorspillsout,whileIcatchmyselfontheedgeofthetable,grabbingthephoneandslippingitbehindmyback.
I’mnotwearingmuch,Iknow,butyou’dbeamazedwherewomencanhidethings.Islipthesmallphonerightundermyarm,tuckingitinthebandoftheblackbra,beforeholdingmyhandsupinfrontofmedefensively.
KassianglaresatmeasIshake,genuinelyfuckingshake,becauseifhesawwhatIjustdid,I’mfucked.Literally,figuratively,everysenseofthatwordandeverywhichwayitcanhappen.Fucked
“Go,”hesays.“BeforeIchangemymind.”
I’monmyfeet,scurryingaway,butIdon’tmakeitfromtheroombeforehespeaksagain.
“Markel,”hesays.“Showthesukatothebathroom.”
Istallnearthedoor.“Irememberwhereitis.”
“Iknow,”Kassiansays.“Ijustdonottrustyou.”
“But—”
“Eitherheescortsyou,”Kassiansays,cuttingmeoff,“oryougorighthereinfrontofusall.Takeyourpick.Thereisnootheroption.”
Markelchoosesforme,grabbingmyshoulderandpushingmeoutoftheroom,hisgripsotightIgrimacetheentirewaydownthehall.Heshovesmeinsideofthenearestbathroom,feelingalongthewalltoblindlyturnonthelight.Stumbling,scowling,Igrabthedoortocloseitwhenhispalmsmacksagainstthewood,shovingitrightbackopen.
Heshiftshisbodyintothedoorway.Crossinghisarmsoverhischest,heleansagainstthedoorframe.Hedoesn’tlookhappy.
“Well?”Heraisesaneyebrow.“Yousaidyouhadtogo.”
“CanIgetsomeprivacy?”
“No.”
“Seriously?Canyouturntheotherway,atleast?”
“No.”
Mystomachdrops.Ijuststandthere,frozen.
“Stagefright?”heasks.
“Thisishumiliating.”
“Ihaveseenyouinworsepredicaments.Sogo.I’mwaiting.Tick,tick,stupidgirl…timeisbeingwasted.”
Rollingmyeyes,Ijustdoit.Ididn’treallyhavetogo,butIforcemyselftosonottoraisesuspicion.Afterward,Istandthere,takingmytimewashingmyhands,buyingmyselfafewsecondstothink.
Groaning,Markelcomescloser,shovingmeoutofthewayashestepsovertousethebathroom.
Imoveawayassoonashisbackistome,steppingoutintothehallandpullingthephonefrommybra.It’slocked,sothereisn’talotIcando,tryingafewcodesbuttheyallsaytryagain.Kassian’stoosmarttousesomethingIcanguess.
Outofluck,outoftime,Ihitthe‘emergency’button.Can’tdomuchbesidescall911.
Notlikeit’llhelpmerightnow,butmaybetheycantracethecall.
IhitthebuttontoendthecallafterI’msureitconnects,shovingthephonebackintomybraasMarkelstepsoutofthebathroom.
“Youdidn’twashyourhands,”Itellhim,makingaface.
“Giveittome,”hesays,holdinghishandout.
Hestilldoesn’tlookhappy.
“Giveyouwhat?”
“Giveittome,”hesaysagain,hisvoicelouder.“IwillnottellKassianaslongasyougiveittomerightnow.”
Istall,hesitating,abouttosayIdon’tknowwhathe’stalkingabout,whenasoftbuzzechoesaroundus.Mycheststartsvibrating.It’sringing.Fuck
BeforeIcangiveittohim,heshovesmeagainstthewall,pattingmedownandtakingthephoneoutofmybra.Itrytosnatchitback,butMarkelslamshisforearmintomythroat,pinningmethereasheanswersthecall.
“Hello,”hesays,glaringatmeasIstruggletotakeadeepbreath.“Ah,yes,Iamverysorry,butitwasamistake.Justalittlegirlplayingonthephone,pressingbuttons.Thereisnoproblem.”
Hehangsuponthem,stillglaringatme,sayingnothingforamoment,justclutchingthephone.
“Youknowhowheis,Markel,”Iwhisper.“Youknowwhathe’lldo.”
“Sowhydoyoudothesethings?Whydoyoualwayshavetoangerhim?”
“WhatchoicedoIhave?”
“Youcouldbewhathewantsyoutobe.”
Ilookawayfromhimwhenhesaysthat.HeknowsIcan’t.Heknowsit’snotright,thatit’snotfair.Markelmaynotbeasaint,buthe’snotlikehisbrother,either.There’scompassioninhimsomewhere,andsometimesitfeelslikeit’sburiedsodeepitcan’teverbeunearthed,butothertimes,Iseeglimpsesofit.
Hetakesastepback,removinghisarmfrommythroattoslipKassian’sphoneinhispocket.
“Whereisshe?”Iask,myvoicetrembling,hopingthisisoneofthosemoments.“Haveyouseenher?”
“WhyshouldItellyouanything?”
“Becauseshe’smylittlegirl.Ineedtoknowthatshe’sokay.Ineedtoseeher.”
Hetellsmenothing,insteadnoddingtowardtheden,wordlesslyorderingmetogo.MygazetrailsalongthefloorasIcrossmyarmsovermychest,makingmywaybacktoKassian.
He’shunchedoverthetable,snortingathicklineofsnow-whitepowderwhenIstepintotheroom.Ihesitate,watchingthat,asMarkelknocksintomefrombehind,movingaroundmetoapproachKassian.Leaningdown,hewhispers,andmyhearthammershard,wonderingifhe’srattingmeout.Kassian’sgazeseeksmeoutashelistenstohisbrother,hiseyesdark,sodamndark,hispupilsmassive.
Kassiansayssomethinginreturn,Idon’tknowwhat,thewordsrushedandinRussian,likethey’rearguing.Afteramoment,Kassiangroans,throwinghishandsup,dismissivelywavingMarkelaway.“Fine.Fine!Go.”
Markelreachesintohispocket,pullingKassian’sphoneout,slidingitontothetablebeforestalkingoff.Heslowsashepassesme,walkingsoclosehisshoulderbumpsmine,ashesays,“Iwillseeyoulater,suka.BeagoodgirlwhileI’mgone,andhewillbenice.”
Nice.That’snotthewordI’duseforit.He’serraticoncoke,hotandcold.Heeitherthinksyouwalkonwaterorhewantstoburyyouinthedirt.
There’snomiddleground.
Asmilelightshisfaceashelooksatme.
Mystomachsinks.
I’mwalkingonwateratthemoment.
IthinkI’dmuchratherwanthimtoburyme.
Slowly,Iapproach,totakemyseatonthefloor,butKassiangrabsaholdofmyhipsandpullsmeontohislapinstead.Hisarmsnakesaroundme,shiftingmeinthechair,pullingmebackagainsthimasherelaxes,sippingfromhisbottleofvodka.Idon’tmove,don’tfightit,evenashishandcaressesmystomach,evenashislipsfindmyshoulderblade,kissingit.
Ibitemycheek,squeezingmyeyesshut.
Happyplace
Aloudchimeechoesthroughthehouse.Everyonegrowssilent.Reopeningmyeyes,mygazemeetsDeclan’sacrossfromme.Hedoesn’tlooklikehe’safraid,buthe’scertainlynotatease,either.
Itisn’tuntilthechimeringsoutforthesecondtimethatanyoneseemstorealizewhatwe’rehearing.Doorbell.Kassianshovesmeoffofhim,andIslidedownontothefloor,takingmyseatoncemore,huggingmylegs.Hesetshisbottleofliquordowninfrontofmeonthetablebeforewavingtowardhisminions.“Somebodyanswerthat.”
Theguyclosesttothedoorgetsupandwalksout,leavingKassianherewithDeclanandIandtwoothers,nowthatMarkelisgone.
It’squiet.Almosttooquiet.Nothinghappensforamoment.Theguywhoansweredthedoordoesn’tcomeback.Didheleave?Nobodyelseseemsconcerned,though,soItrytorelax,untiloutofnowhereIhearhisvoice—coolandcalm,almostmockinglyso.“Nooffense,Aristotle,butyourpartieskindofsuck.”
Myeyesdarttothedoorway,righttowhereheappears.Lorenzo.Myheartbeatssofranticallymyvisionblurs.He’swearingblackfromhead-to-toe:blackslacks,blackshirt,blackcombatboots.Helooksalmostsinister,standingthereintheshadows,handsshovedinhispockets.Heglancesaroundatthemen,gazelingeringonDeclan,beforeheturnstoKassian,skippingrightoverme.
It’slikeI’mnotevenhere.
LikeInolongerexisttohim.
Myinsidestwistinknots,andIswallowthickly.IfeellikeI’mgoingtobesick.Ugh
“Ah,yes,well,thereareusuallymorewomen,”Kassiansays,reachingdowntopatmyhead.“Tonight,weonlyhaveourlittleguestofhonor,butsheisquiteenjoyableonherown.Iamsureshewouldbemorethanhappytoliventhingsupforyou.”
“Iappreciatetheoffer,butI’vealreadyfuckedher,”Lorenzosays,thosewordsnonchalant,buttheyhitmelikeablowtothechest.“Morethanafewtimes,actually.”
“SoIhaveheard.”Kassianfistsahandfulofmyhairandroughlytugsmyheadup,soI’lllookathiminsteadofLorenzo.“Butwhohasnotfuckedher?”
Athroatclearsnearby,avoicechimingin.“Ihaven’t.”
Declan.
Kassianloosenshisgriponmyhair.“Ah,yes,youhaveathingforoneoftheothers.Lexie.Seemsshetookalikingtoyou,also.”
“Canyoublameher?”Declanasks.
“Yes,”Kassiansayswithalaugh,“Ican.”
Slowly,Iturnmyheadagain,myeyesshiftingbacktoLorenzointhedoorway.He’sstaringatmenow,hisexpressionblank,notahintofemotiontobefoundanywhere.IsodesperatelywishIknewwhathewasthinking,wishIknewwhatwasgoingthroughhismind.Iwonderifhecameherewithaplan,ifheknowswhathe’sdoing,ifherealizeswhyKassiantoldhimtocome.Iwishhecouldhearmythoughts,sothatIcouldwarnhim,sothatIcouldthankhimforeverythinghe’sdonetohelp.
SothatIcouldtellhimtogetthefuckoutofhere.
Ashestaresatme,hischeektwitches,theslightesthintofafrowntugginghislips.
“Sit,MisterScar,”Kassiansays.“Haveadrink.”
Blinking,Lorenzoturnsawayfrommeagain,lookingtoKassian.“I’dratherwegetbusinessoutofthewayfirst.”
“Fairenough,”Kassiansays,shovingoutofhischair,leaningacrossmetograbablackduffelbagfromthefloornearby.Hedropsitonthecenterofthetablebeforesittingbackdown.“Amillion.Itisallthere.EverydollarIpromisedforher.”
Lorenzostrollsintotheroom,comingcloser…andcloser…andcloser,stoppingsoclosetomethatIcansmellthefainthintofhissoapasheleansdown,unzippingthebag.
It’soverflowingwithcash.Icanseethatfromhere.Lorenzoshiftsthroughit,buthedoesn’tbothercountingbeforezippingitbackup.
Snatchingupthebag,hetossesitovertoDeclan,nearlyknockingthewindoutoftheguyasitlandsonhislapwithathud.
“Takethatouttoyourcar,Three,”Lorenzosays.
Declanforceshiswayupoffthecouch,notonetodisregardanorder.Theguysintheroomlookaround,notsureifthey’resupposedtolethimleave,lookingtoKassianforsomeguidance.
“Whatistherush?”Kassianasks,wavingthemoff.“Sit.Enjoyyourselves.Noneedtorunoff.”
“I’mnotrunninganywhere,”Lorenzosays,grabbingKassian’sdiscardedvodkabottlefromthetable.Hesniffsitbeforetakingaswig.
Declanwalksout,luggingtheheavybagwithhim.IcanfeelKassiantense,hishandshiftingtomyshoulder,squeezingithard,likehethinksLorenzomighttrytohavemehauledoutofherenext.
Lorenzostepsoveranddropsdownontothecouch,takingtheseatDeclanvacated.Helooksattheguysoneithersideofhim,assessingthem,ashehelpshimselftotheliquor.Heseemsatease,morethanheoughtto,afactthatIknowisrufflingKassian.
Hisgripgetstighter…andtighter…andtighter.
Iwince,tryingtomovefromhisgrasp,tryingtoscoottotheright,outofhisreach,butheisn’thavingthat.Hishandshiftsonceagain,thistimegraspingthebackofmyneckasheleansdowntowardme,saying,“Itseemsyouwerewrong,prettygirl.”
“Fuckyou,”Iwhisper.
Helaughsatme,andIshudderatthefeelofhisbreathonmyskin.
“Eager,arewe?”heasks,runninghisnosealongmyhair.“Patience,pussycat.”
“So,tellmesomething,Jabba,”Lorenzosays,interrupting.“Yougotthekidfrozenincarbonitesomewhere?”
Kassianpullsawayfromme,buthedoesn’tletgoofmyneck.“Jabba?”
“Yeah,youknow,StarWars,”Lorenzosays.“YouseemtohaveaJabbatheHuttthinggoingonwithyourchained-updancers.Quiteuncanny,really.”
“StarWars?”Kassian’svoiceisincredulous.“Idonotlikeallthatspacestuff,withthosealiensandthebeammeupnonsense.”
Lorenzocoughs,chokingonsomevodka.Sittingup,hepointsthebottleatKassian.“Didyouseriouslyjust…?”
“StarWars,”Kassiansays,wavinghimoff.“Itisallsostupid.”
Somethinghappensinthatmoment.AflickerofrageflashesacrossLorenzo’sface.BeforethelastsyllableevenpassesfromKassian’slips,Lorenzosnaps
Flippingtheliquorbottlearound,hesnatchesitbytheneckandswingshard,likeabaseballbat,slammingtheguytohisrightintheheadwithit.
BAM.
Thebottleshatters,glassscattering,vodkasaturatingtheroomastheguyfallslimp.Knockedout.TheguytoLorenzo’sleftgrabshim,totrytostophim,butthere’snotmuchhecandotowardoffwhat’shappening.Stillclutchingtheneckofthebrokenbottle,Lorenzoturns,nothesitatingatallashelunges,stabbing,thejaggedglassplungingthroughthesideoftheguy’sneck.
Theguygurgles,gasping,panicked,andyanksthebottleout.Mistake.Bigfuckingmistake.Bloodspurtsfromthewound,shootingoutlikeawaterfountain,notstoppingevenashegraspshisneck,holdingtightly.
Lorenzoshovestheguyoffthecouch,unfazedasthebloodsplattershim.
Seconds.Mereseconds.IfIwould’veblinked,Iwould’vemisseditall.Kassianreacts,shovingupoutofthechairinalarm.Hisfingerswindtightlythroughmyhair,forcingmetomyfeet,pullingmeagainsthimashestepsback,awayfromthetable,puttingsomedistancebetweenthemen.Icryoutaspainradiatesalongmyscalp,feelinglikehe’srippingoutclumpsofhair.Hishandsshift,armwindingaroundmyneck,puttingmeinaheadlockfrombehind,mybodyshieldingpartofhis.
Lorenzo’sonhisfeet,pullingagunfrombeneathhisshirt.Hecocksit,aimingatKassian.Aimingatme.Myheartraces.
“Hidingbehindawoman?”Lorenzoasks.“Kindofadickmove,isn’tit,Jabba?”
“Sentimentalfool,”Kassiansays.“YouwouldnotriskhurtingyourpreciousScarlet.Youdonothavethegutstopullthetrigger.”
BANG.
ThemomentKassiansaysit,agunshotlightsuptheroom.Iscream,startled,myearsringingasabulletfliesrightbyme.Soclose.Tooclose.Lorenzodidn’tflinch,didn’tmove,notaflickerofemotiononhisfacewhenhepulledthefuckingtrigger.
Kassianshovesme,moving,tryingtododgethegunshot.Ormaybehe’stryingtothrowmeintoit,Idon’tknow.Idon’tknow.AllIknowissecondslater,inanotherblink,there’smovement.Theguyonthecouch,theoneLorenzosmackedwiththebottle,comestowithajolt,theloudbangrousinghimbacktoconsciousness.
Lorenzodoesn’tnotice.Theguyisinhisblindspot.
“Lorenzo!”Iscream.
Kassian’shandclampsdownonmymouthashepinsmeagainsthim,hissing,“Stupidgirl,shutup.”
Lorenzoturnsjustastheguyhitshim,fistsswinging.Ohgod.Lorenzofiresashotthatmissesentirely,thebullethittingthemantleoverthefireplace,ricochetingmydirection.IcryoutintoKassian’spalm,panicked,myvisionblurring,strugglingtobreakfreebutit’snotworking.
Theystartgoingatit,hitting,grabbing,thegunrippedfromLorenzo’sgraspandkickedacrossthefloor.Mystomachdrops.Lorenzo’satadisadvantage,notonlybecauseofhisblindspot,butbecauseKassian’sguysarebuiltforthis.They’retrainedtodisarm,tosubdue,toinflictpain…
“Youseethat?”Kassianwhispersinmyear.“Heisweak,yourlittleplaything.Hecannotsaveyou.”
Lorenzoputsuponehellofafight,usingeverythinghe’sgot,butitisn’tlonguntilhe’sknockeddown,droppingtohisknees.Bloodstreamsfromhisbustedmouthashebreathesheavily.
Myheartdamnnearstops.
“Aw,lookatthat,suka,”Kassiansays.“Nowyougettowatchhimtakehislastbreath.”
Istruggle,flailing,kickingmylegs,swingingmyarms.Ithrowmyheadback,slammingintoKassian’schin,myelbowjabbinghimintherib,butit’sstillnotenough.
Fuckthis
Ibitehim.
Myteethclampdownonhispalm.Heripshishandawayfrommymouth,cursing,andshovesme,throwingmetothefloorbythefireplace.
Iwince,myankletwistinginthegoddamnheelsasIland…hard
“Stay,”hebarks,glaringatme,furious.Turningaway,hestalksovertoLorenzo,shakingthehandthatIbitbeforehesnatchesthegunfromthefloor.HestepsrightinfrontofLorenzo,raisingthegun,pointingitathisforehead.“Itisashameithascometothis,MisterScar.YouandIcouldhavebeenfriends.”
Lorenzosaysnothing,juststaringupathim,histongueslowlyrunningalonghisbustedlip.
“Butfriendsdonotstealfromeachother,”Kassiancontinues.“Myfriendsdonottrytotakewhatismine.Imayletthemhaveataste,fromtimetotime,butthesukabelongstome.Sheisnottheirs,andsheiscertainlynotyours.Thestupidgirl,shedoesnotknowwhatisgoodforher.Sheletyoubelieveyoucouldkeepher,sheletyouhavepartsofherthatwerenotherstogiveaway,andthat,Scar,iswhywecanneverbefriends.”
AngerflowsthrougheverysyllablefromKassian’slips,hishandshakingashegripsthegun.Hedoesn’tusethem.Heprefershisbarehands.Buthisfingerisonthetrigger,andIknowhe’sgoingtopullit.Anyfuckingsecond,thegunshotisgoingtoechothroughtheair.
No.No.No
Frantic,myeyesdartaround,mymindworkingfast,lookingforawayout.WhereareLorenzo’sguys?Where’dDeclango?Wherearetheothers?Where’sSeven?Whyaren’ttheyhere,protectinghim?Whyisnobodydoinganythingtostopthis?
Whyisn’tLorenzofighting?
Itmakesnosense.
It’sinsane
AsmilecreepsuponLorenzo’slips.Itsendsachilldownmyspine.OhnoOhgod.Whythefuckishesmiling?AlightlaughescapeshimashespitsbloodonKassian’sshinyshoes,likenoneofthisbothershim.
“You’reright,Aristotle,”Lorenzosays.“YouandIcouldneverbefriends.”
Assoonashesaysthat,Ihearthefrontdoorofthehouseopen.Idon’tknowwhoitis.Idon’tknowwho’scoming.AllIknowisthatifsomebodydoesn’tdosomething,thisisit.It’sallover.
He’sgoingtodiebecauseofme.
Ican’tletthathappen.
Kickingofftheheels,Ishoveuptomyfeet,grabbingthefirstthingIcanreach—thefireplacepoker.Igraspittightlyinmysweatypalms,clutchingitwithbothhandsasIlungerightforKassian,rammingitinhisback.Itdoesn’tgofarin,thethickmetalcurving,mybruisedbodytoodamnweaktoshoveitthrough,butitpierceshimenoughtoknockhimforward.
HisminiongrabsmebeforeIcandomuchelse,rippingthepokeroutofmyhand,outofKassian’sback,beforehethrowsmeacrosstheroom.ThegungoesoffassoonasIhitthefloor,thenoiseharrowinginmyears.
BANG.
Iscream,desperatelyturning.
Don’tlethimbedead
Iwatch,eyeswide,asLorenzofinallyfights.He’sonhisfeetagain,twistingKassian’sarm,forcinghimtopullthetriggeragain.
BANG.
ThebulletgrazesKassian’sshoulder,throwinghimoffenoughforLorenzotogettheupperhand.HesnatchesthegunbackasKassianstaggers,stunned.
Peopleswarmtheroomasadrenalineflowsthroughme,therushnearlymakingmeblackout.ThefirstpersonIsee,thefirstfaceIencounter,isoneIhaven’tseeninawhile.
Seven
BehindhimisDeclan.Besidehim,Frank.DeclanandFrankcarryguns,assaultrifles,whileSevenholdshishandsupinfrontofhim,almostdefensively.
Lorenzostandsupstraight,nohesitation,pumpingafewbulletsintoKassian’slastminion,droppingtheguybeforehepointsthegunatKassian.
“Yousee,thethingis,”Lorenzosays,“Icouldneverbefriendswithsomeonewhodoesn’tknowthedifferencebetweenStarWarsandStarTrek.”
Hedoesn’tpullthetrigger.
No,heswings
BAM.
Lorenzobeatshim,slamminghiminthefacewiththepistol,blowafterblow,unrelenting.Lorenzobackshimupintothewall,hittinghimsohardKassiandrops,slidingtothefloor.Hisfaceisastreakedmaskofred,bloodpouringfromhim,coatingLorenzo’shand.
“Damn,boss,”Declansays.“Justpopabulletintheguy…wouldbemorehumane.”
“No,”Iyell,myownvoicesurprisingme.“Wait,youcan’t.Don’tkillhim!”
Theguyscastmepeculiarlooks.
AllexceptLorenzo,whodoesn’tevenlookmyway.I’minvisibleagain.Hisattentionisonhisguys,scanningthemashisexpressiondarkens.Heraisesthegunagain,aiming,thistimeatSeven
Ihavenoideawhattomakeofthat,noideawhat’shappening,butIdon’thavetimetofigureitout.Kassian’seyesaredriftingclosed,likehe’sgoingunconscious.
Irushover,droppingtomykneesbesidehim,graspinghisbloodyfaceandshakinghim.“Kassian,lookatme.”
Hiscoldgrayeyesmeetmine.
“Tellmewheresheis,”Iwhisper,myvoicecracking.“TellmewhereIcanfindSasha.”
Hecurvesaneyebrow.“Markeldidnottellyou?”
“Markel?No.Tellmewhat?”
Hesaysnothing.
IhearLorenzobehindme,talkingtoSeven,hisvoiceangryashesays,“Whatthefuckareyoudoinghere?”
“Jamesoncalledme,”Sevensays.“Hewastryingtogetupwithyou.Hetoldmeabouttheclub,andIjust…Iscrewedup,Iknow,butIwanttohelp,boss.”
“Don’tcallmethat,”Lorenzosays.“Youshouldn’thavecome.ItoldyouIneverwantedtoseeyourfaceagain.Hell,Itoldallofyoutogetoutofhere.Noneofyoulisten!”
Kassianturnshishead,glancingpastme,attheguys.
I’velosthisattention.
“Listentome,Kassian,”Isay,makinghimlookmywayagain.“TellmewheresheissoIcangotoher.Ifthere’sanyheartinyouatall,ifyouloveher…ifyouloveme,likeyousay…you’lltellmehowtofindher.”
Hereachesforme,hisfingertipsbrushingagainstmycheek.He’swipingawaymytears,Irealize.
I’mcrying.
“Alwayssobeautifulwhenyoucry,”hesays,hisfingerstracingmyjawlinebeforerunningdownmyneck,hishandsettlingonmythroat.“Whatisityouusedtosay?Faceyourfearsandwipeyourtears?”
“Yes,”Iwhisper.
“Thenwipeyourtears,prettygirl,”hesays,“becausethetimehascometofaceyourfears.”
Hegripsmythroattightly,andIgasp,shovingagainsthischesttopushawaybutheyanksmetowardhiminstead.
“Oh,whoa,whoa!”Declanyells.“Whatthefuck?”
Someonegrabsme,draggingmeawayfromKassian.Idon’thavetolooktoknowit’sLorenzo.Icansmellhim,canfeelhimashewrapshisarmsaroundmefrombehind.
Declanstepsinfrontofme,takingmyplacebesideKassian,slammingthebuttofhisgunintohisface.“Handsoff,dickwad.”
“That’senough,”Lorenzosays,hisvoicefirm.
Declancastshimalookthatasks‘why?’buthesaysnothing,stallingwhathe’sdoing.
“Gethimoutofhere,”Lorenzosays.“Puthiminmytrunk.Andifyoulethimdie,Isweartofuck…”
“Gotit,boss,”Franksays.“We’llkeephimalive.”
TheguyssnatchaholdofKassian,pullinghimtohisfeet.Hesways,kneesdamnnearbuckling,notmakingiteasyforthemastheyhaulhimaway.Thesecondhe’soutofmylineofsight,panicrushesthroughme.IshoveoutofLorenzo’sgrasp,dartingafterthem.
“Kassian,please!”Iyell,stoppinginthemiddleofthefoyerastheyreachthefrontdoor.I’mnotabovebeggingatthispoint.“Please,tellmewhatyoudidwithourdaughter!”
Kassianstalls,resisting,fightingtheguysasheturnstolookatme.“Youwanttoknowwherekittenis?”
“Yes!”
“Iwouldtakeyoutoher,ifIcould,”hesays.“Iwouldlovenothingmore.Itwouldbemypleasure,truly,tochokethelifeoutofyouagain,justlikeIdidher.”
“No,”Iwhisper,dizzy,asIshakemyhead.“No,no,no…youdidn’t.”
“Idid.”
“Don’tdothis,Kassian.Don’t…please!”
“Toolate,”hesays.“Sogotohell,suka…ifyouarelucky,maybeyouwillfindherthere.”
Mykneesgiveoutonme.TheworldspinsasIdrop.Lorenzoisthere,grabbingmebeforeIhitthefloor,armswindingtightlyaroundme,buthe’snotstrongenoughtokeepmefromfallingapart.
Ichokeonasob,crying,inhumannoiseechoingfrommychestasIstruggletocatchmybreath.Myheart,Icanfeelitshattering.Ithurts.Ohgod,itburns.Mylungswon’tworkanymore.They’renothingbutash,charredbyflames.No,no,no
“I’vegotyou,”Lorenzosays,hisvoicequietasheholdsme.“It’sokayIgotyou.”
Thestrengthfadesfrommybodyasthosewordsreachinsideofme,grippingtight.Daysoftorture,weeksofsorrow,monthsofheartachecatchuptomeallatonce.Icollapseintomyself,unabletofindthewordstotellhimhe’swrong.It’snotokay.It’llneverbeokay.Theyjusthauledmybestchancetofindmydaughteroutofthatdoor,andmyfearofneverseeingheragainisfeelingmoreandmorereal.
Onmyknees,curledover,Iholdontomyself,tryingtokeepfrombreakingbutit’shard.Sohard
Idon’tbelieveit.Irefusetobelieveit.She’snotgone.I’dknowitifshewas.Amotheralwaysknows.I’dfeelitinmyheart.Apieceofmeexistsinsideofthatlittlegirl,andithastostillbeoutthere.Itcan’tjustbegone.
WhoknowshowlongIlayhere,justlikethat,howlongLorenzokneelsbesideme,lettingmecry.Itfeelslikeforever.Lifetimespass.Hetakesoffhiscoat,drapingitoverme,coveringmeupasherubsmyback.
Hesaysanythingforalongmoment,consolingmeinsilence.
Hishandstopsmovingeventually.Ifeelhimtense,pullingaway,puttingenoughdistancebetweenusthatIlosehiswarmth,coldnesscreepingthroughme,iceinmyveins.
“Morgan,”hesays,hisvoicequietashewhispersmyname.Myname.“Openyoureyes,baby.”
Iraisemyheadupwhenhesaysthat,butIdon’tgetfarenoughtolookathim.Ifreezewhenmygazereachesthefrontdoor,stillhangingwideopen.Markelstandsthere,barelyvisiblewithintheshadowsofthefrontporch,butthat’snotwhatgetsme.No.It’sthesmallbodyjustinsidetheentryway,afewfeetinfrontofhim,notfarfromwhereIsit.Barefeet,whitenightgown,wildbrownhair—longerthanIremember,buteverythingelseissomuchthesame.Shestaresatme,herdarkeyeswidelikeshe’sseeingaghost,likeI’mafigmentofherimagination.Sasha.She’snotmoving,notmakingasound,butIcanseeherchestrisingandfallingfast,likeshecan’tbreatheverywell.
“Sunshine?”Iwhisper,findingmyvoice.
Herbottomliptrembles,tearsfillinghereyes.“Mommy?”
Inod,openingmyarms,chokingonasobatthesoundofhersweetvoicecallingmethatagain.Mommy
Idon’thavetosayanotherword.
Sherunsrightforme,loudlycrying,flingingherselfatmesohardshenearlyknocksmebackontothefloor.Iwrapmyarmsaroundher,clingingtoher,feelingherwarmth.Myheart.Myinnocence.Thelightofmylife.Isqueezemyeyesshut,andforabriefsecondIwonderifI’mdreaming.IwonderifI’llopenmyeyesandallofthiswillbegone.It’scruel,thethoughtthatmaybeit’sjustallinmyhead,buthervoicewashesovermeagain,andIpushthosethoughtsaway.
Ifthisisadream,whatever…I’mokaywithneverwakingupagain.
“Youfoundme,Mommy,”shesays,hervoiceshaking.“Youfoundme!”
Iopenmyeyesagain,pullingbackjustenoughtolookather.ShesmilesasIwipethetearsfromherflushedcheeks.Iglancepasther,aroundthefoyer,beinggreetedbynothingmorethansilence.
Thefrontdoorisclosednow.Lorenzoisgone.
There’snobodyhere,nobodybutus
“Idid,”Iwhisper,smoothingherhairasIreturnhersmile,lookingbackather.“Ipromised,didn’tI?”ChapterTwenty-One
Mylifehasturnedintoathree-ringcircus.
IliketothinkthatI’mtheringmasterofitall,butI’mbeginningtofeelmorelikeafuckingtrainedlion,onethat’ssickofjumpingthroughhoops,secondsawayfrombreakinglooseandmaulingeveryone.Theacrobatsareallaroundme,bendingoverbackwards,orhell…maybethey’remorelikeacarnivalfreakshow.Regardless,Iknowwhothefuckingclownsare.
Oneofthemiscurrentlyindisposedinmytrunk.
Theotherjumpedinacarandspedawayafterdroppingoffakidthatwassupposedlydead.Ihaven’texactlywrappedmymindaroundallofthatyet,butsufficeittosay,thatparticularbozowillgettolivetoseeanotherday.
Howmanymoredaysisreallythequestion…theanswerdependentuponwhathedoesaftertonight.
Theoneinthetrunk,however,won’tbesolucky.
“Christ,itfeelslikeweoughttobehalfwaytoChinabynow,”Fivemutters,sweatrollingoffofhim.Hecomestoastop,leaningonhisshovelashepullshisshirtuptowipehisface.“Howcomehegetsoutofdigging?”
Fivemotionstowardmycar.
“He’sreallyinnoconditiontodighisowngrave.”
“ImeantBruno,nottheRussian,”Fivesays,pausingashelooksatme,hisvoicedroppinglower.“Wait,shit,thisisforAristov,right?Thisisn’t,youknow…isit?”
IglanceoveratSevenasheleansagainstthesideofmycar,armscrossedoverhischest,watchingusinthedarkness.Insteadofhumoringthatwitharesponse,Icontinuetodig,throwingshovelfulsofdirtaside.“Thereasonhe’snotdoingitbecauseIdon’ttrusthim.”
“Youdon’ttrusthimtoworkashovel?”
“Idon’ttrusthimtotakeapissrightnow.Thejackassinthetrunkhasbeenmorehonestabouthisintentions,sono,Idon’ttrusthimwithashovel.”
“Why’sheherethen?”
“BecauseIhaven’tkilledhim.”
“Areyougoingto?”
“Maybe.”
“Doyouthinkhe—?”
Sighingexasperatedly,IslammyshovelintothedirtandlookatFive,cuttingoffhislastquestion,becauseI’mnotansweringwhateveritis.“Isthisoneofthosecheckyesornomoments?Youtryingtopassmesomenoteshere?Wanttogossiplikelittlefuckingbusybodies?Braideachother’shair?Bebestfriendsforever?”
“Myfault,”hemutters,goingbacktodigging.“Justtryingtogetonthesamepage.”
“AllthepageI’monsaysis‘theydugafuckingholetoburytheRussianin’sothat’swhatI’mdoing.”
Henods.“Gotit.”
WediginsilenceuntilI’msatisfiedtheholeisbigenough.Takesaboutanhour.Myshouldersacheandmybackhurts,nottomentionmyheadisviciouslypounding.IthasbeensteadilythumpingsinceItookthosehardblowstothefacehoursago,whenthejackassbeatthehelloutofmebeforeAristovputmyownguntomyforehead.
Yeah,ithasbeenonefuckedupday
Therewasasecond,abriefsecond,whereIthoughtImightdietonightbeforeScarletgotherwitsaboutheranddecidedtodosomething.Iwascountingonthat,countingonhertenacity.
Shedidn’tdisappoint,butthepaininmyheadsaysitsuretookherasslongenough.
Throwingmyshovelupovertheside,Ipullmyselfoutofthehole,brushingthedirtfrommyclothes.Fivefollowsmylead,buthestruggles,crawlingovertheside,collapsingonthegroundbesideit.
“You’restartingtowhinemorethanThree,”Itellhim.
Fiveforceshimselfup.“Ihaven’tsaidawordinforty-fiveminutes!”
“Doesn’tmeanIcan’thearyoucomplaining.”
“Whatever,”hemutters,notbotheringtobrushthedirtfromhissweatyclothes.“That’swhooughttobeoutherediggingholes.Declan.”
“He’sgototherthingstotakecareof,”Isay,poppingthetrunkonmycarandopeningit,mygazemeetingAristov’sasheforceshiseyesopen.He’sbarelyclingingtoconsciousness.He’slostquiteabitofblood.Notfromthebulletthatgrazedhisshoulder,norfromthebeatinghetook.No,itwastherodofmetalthatScarletrammedintohisback.Idon’tknowwhatshehit,butshemust’vehitsomething.“Youlooktired,Aristotle,butdon’tworry…we’vegotyourbedallmadeup.”
Grabbinghim,Istartyankinghimoutofthetrunk.Hedoesn’tfight,becausehedoesn’thavemuchfightleftinhim,whichmeansitisn’tgoingtobeeasyforme,either.Fivejumpsin,helpingmelughimout,droppinghimtothegroundbetweenus.
Aristovgroans,mutteringsomethingIdon’tpayattentionto,becausefuckhim
Wouldyougiveashitabouthisfinalwordsafterthethingshe’sdone,ifhedidthemtoyou?
Wehaulhimtowardthehole,butthesonofabitchisheavy,bulky,draggingthegroundaswepullhimalong.Sevenshovesawayfromthecar,comingtowardus.“Here,letmehelpyou,boss.”
“Isweartofuck,Seven,ifyoucallmethatonemoretime,FiveandIaregoingtobediggingyetanotherholetonight,andtrustmewhenIsaynoneofuswantthattohappen.”
“Isuredon’t,”Fivemutters.“I’mtired.”
Sevengrowssilent,returningtohisplacebesidethecar,asFiveandIdragAristovtherestofthewayandrollhimintothehole.
Helandsface-upwithathud.
Igrabmyshovel,scoopingupapileofdirt,instantlydroppingitonhim.Heopenshiseyes,lookingupatme,butheotherwisedoesnothing.
Whatcanhedo?
Notagoddamnthing
Iknow.Iknow.I’vebeenthere.
Itmight’vebeenaworldaway,butI’velaidwherehe’slaying.
Thepain…thepainhadbeenintense.Icanstillfeelanechoofitsometimesrattlingaroundinmyhead.Otherwise,justlikemyskull,therestofitbecamefractured,mymemoryapileofpuzzlepiecesthatwillnevercompletelyfittogether.Flashesandmoments,likeafuckedupflipbookoutofsequence.Ivividlyremembermystepfatherstandingoverme,pantingandsweaty,hisnosebleeding.I’dputupafight,butitwasn’tenough.Hecaughtmeoffguard,swingingthemetalshovel,hittingmerightinthefacethesecondIturnedaround.
Ilaidintheholehedugbehindthehouse,barelyclingingtoconsciousnessasIstaredupathiminthedarkness.Myearswereringing,andthemanwastalking,butIcouldbarelymakeouthiswords.Something,something,something…youbroughtthisonyourself.Alarmsshriekedinsidemyskull,butIdidn’tmakeasound.Ididn’tbeg,orcry,orcurse,evenashetookthebloodyshovelandpickedupapileofdirt,sendingitrainingdownonme.
Iclosedmyeyesastheyburned,coatedinblood.Iwaitedfordeath.Iknewitwascoming.Iwaited…andwaited…andwaited…ashepiledonthedirt.
SomethingjarredmeeventuallyasIwasyankedanddragged,thepainexplosiveasIforcedmyeyesopen,lookingup,expectingtoseemystepfather,butitwasanotherfaceIfound.Aguy,notmucholderthanme.Peoplewereshoutingintothenight,fightinggoingonsomewhere,ashekneltdown,leaningoverme.“Canyouhearme?”
Itriedtonod.
“Canyoutellmeyourname?”heasked.“Canyoutellmeanything?”
Iopenedmymouth,myvoiceabrokenwhisperasItriedtospeak.Noideaifheheardmeorifheunderstood,buthesaid,“Myname’sIgnazio.Justholdon,okay?”
Blacknesstookoverthen,morelittleflashes.IttookawhileformetorealizeIgnaziohadsavedmylife,pullingmeoutofahomemadegraveandfindinghelp.
“Howlongdoesittake?”Fiveasks,hisquestioncatchingmeoffguard,drawingmeoutofthememory.
He’sstaringdownatAristov.Theholeisonlyaboutfourfeetdeep,sixandahalffeetlong.
“What?”
“Howlongdoesittaketodiethisway?”Fiveasks.“Hours?Days?”
“Morelikeminutes,”Isay.Buriedalive.“Inhalingdirt,athousandpoundsofpressureontopofyou.You’dsuffocate.”
“Soundsterrifying.”
Itis.
Withinafewminutes,Aristov’snolongervisible.Hedoesn’thaveanIgnaziotosavehimlikeI’dhad.Lessthananhourlater,andtheholeisagainfilled.
Wekickstuffontopofit—leaves,treebranches,stones,makingitblendin,soifanyonestumblesuponthearea,itwon’tstandout.We’redeepinthewoods,anhourorsoacrosstheborderinNewJersey,inthemiddleoffuckingnowhere.He’lllikelygoundiscoveredforever.
“Idon’tknowaboutyou,butIfeellikeIcouldsleepforamonth,”Fivesaysaswetosstheshovelsintheblood-soakedtrunk,addingdirtrightontopofit,aforensicteam’swetdream.“Probablycoulduseavacationafterthenightwe’vehad.”
“Florida’snicethistimeofyear,”Itellhim.“Youshouldtakethetripdown.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,there’ssomeworkonthegrovesthatneedsdone.”
Fivelaughs,pullingoutthecarkeystoheadforthedriver’sseat.“It’snotreallyavacationifyou’vegotmeontheclock.”
Ishrug,gettinginthepassengerseat.I’venevertakenavacationfromworking,soIdon’tknowwhatthat’slike.There’salwaysstuffthatneedsdone.Sevenclimbsinthebackseat,stayingsilent,asFivedrivesusbackintoNewYorkunderthecloakofdarkness,headingstraighttomyhouseinQueens.
Therestoftheguysarehere,waiting.Well,exceptforThree.He’sstilloffhandlingthings.
Idismisseveryonerightaway,notinthemoodforcompany,needingsometimetogetmythoughtsinorder,butSevenlingers,standingonmyfrontporch.AsmuchasI’mstillitchingtoguthim,Ihavetoadmithe’sgotballs.Bigballs.Maybetoobig,butstill…ittakesballstostandhere.
“Whatdoyouwant,Seven?”
“Asecondchance,”hesays.
“WhyshouldIgiveyouone?”
“BecauseIwanttomakeituptoyou.”
Ishakemyhead.“That’snotagoodreason.Idon’tcarewhatyouwant.Notanymore.Soifyou’relookingforasecondchance,comebackwhenyou’vegotagoodreasonastowhyIshouldgiveyouone.Untilthen…”
Iwavehimoff.
Heturnsaway,leavingwithoutarguing.
MybrothermeetsmeinthefoyerassoonasI’minthehouse,mybootstrackingdirtinalongthefloor.
“Whathappened?”heasks.“What’sgoingon?”
“Nothing,”Isay.“Itookcareofit.”
“Youtookcareofit,”herepeats,lookingallaroundme,andIknowwhathe’slookingfor:Scarlet
“She’sfine,”Itellhim.“She’swithherkid.”
Hiseyeswiden.“Youfoundherdaughter,too?”
“Yes.”Igrasphisshoulder,squeezingit.It’sallofthereassuranceIcanmanage.“All’swellthatendswell,right?Orsomeotherclichébullshit.Whateveryouwanttohearrightnow.”
“But—”
He’sgotquestions,Iknow…somanyfuckingquestions…butI’mnotinthemood.“Nottonight,Leo.Letmegetmyheadrightbeforeyouinterrogatemeaboutthisshit.”
Hejuststandsthere,gapingatme,asIwalkaway,headingtomylibrary.Hedoesn’ttrytofollow,droppingitforthemoment,goingintothelivingroomtoreportwhatheknowstohisgirlfriend,tosetherprettylittleheadateasethattheworldisabeautifulplaceagain,thatthesunwillcomeouttomorrowandtheflowerswillsoonbloomandtheycansleepsnugasabuginafuckingrugtonightwithoutworryingaboutmonstershidingunderthebed.
Me?I’mexhausted,butthere’snowayIcansleep,notwithsomuchweighingonme.Turningonthelamp,Irunmyhandsdownmyfacebeforefixingmyattentiononmystillunfinishedpuzzle.
Ithasnevertakenmesolongtodoonebefore.
Aftergrabbingabottleofrumfromthekitchen,Idecidetodiveintothepuzzle,hopingthealcoholwillnumbmypain,hopingfocusingonsomethingelsewillkeepmyheadfromexploding.Idon’tknowhowmuchtimepasses,thenightwearingaway,butI’mfeelinglittlemorethanatinglingsensationinmymuscleswhenthere’saknockfromthedoorway.
Iglanceover,seeingThreestandingthere.
“How’ditgo?”Iaskquietly.
“Okay,Iguess,”hesays,steppingintothelibrary,rubbingthesideofhisface.It’sred,ahintofabruiseformingonhispaleskin.“Ihadthemcheckedoutbyadoctor.Neitherseemedhappyaboutit,butthey’rebothokay,forthemostpart.Nothingseriouslywrong.Somedehydration,abitofmalnourishment,ahellofalotofbumpsandbruisesonMorgan,butthatwasobviousjustlookingather.”
“Tellmeaboutit,”Imutter.Herskinwasakaleidoscopeofinjuries,butthekindofshitthatisjustsuperficial.Therealdamage,Ithink,hastoberooteddeeplyinher,thekindofdamagethatfucksupsomebodymentally
Ishould’vegottentohersooner.
I’mafuckingfailure.
Iwaveredandwaited…andwaited…andwaited…sonottogetherhurt.Alotoffuckinggoodthatdid,huh?WhileIsataround,bidingmytime,hedidwhathedidtoher.
Icanimagine,youknow.Idon’tneedanyonetotellme.Isawthewayshelooked.
Should’vejusttossedthegrenadeandendeditbeforeitstarted
“Anyway,soIbookedthemthissuiteatThePlaza,”Threesays.“Thislittlepinkpoufylookingplace.Theydoteatimeandshit.Figuredalittlegirlwouldlikethat,right?Cupcakesandpinkshitand…tea?”
“Idon’tknow,”Imumble,lookingbackatmypuzzle,pickingupapiece.“Idon’tknowanythingaboutkids.”
“Youraisedone.”
“PrettysuretheoneIraisedwasbornmorematurethanme.”
Threepausestoleanagainstthetable.“Idon’tknowshitaboutkids,either,clearly,becausethelittlegirlwantednothingtodowithit.Saidsomeshitaboutitlookinglikeanotherpalace,saidshewasn’tdoingitanymore,whateverthatmeans.SoMorgangavemesomeaddressinLongIsland,toldmetotakethemthere…somehousetheycouldstayat.Theyseemed,well…okay.”
“Okay,”Irepeat.
“Yeah.”
Isnapmypuzzlepieceintoplacebeforepickingupanotherone.“So,atwhatpointdidshehityou?”
Helaughslightly,rubbinghisfaceagain.“WhenIgaveherthemoney.Shedidn’twanttotakeit,gotdownrightpissed,butthenItoldherwhatyoutoldmetotellher,andwell…shekindofgotemotional,soIjettedoutofthere.”
“Youtoldher?”
“Yeah.”
Gofindyourpicketfence
It’sasgoodofagoodbyeasany,Ifigure.Shewantsthefairytalewiththehappyending.AllIhavearebulletholesinahousewithnosoul.Iknewshewouldn’twantAristov’smoney,butItookitforher.AmilliondollarsforMorgan.Thatwasthedeal.Itookitsoshewouldn’tgobacktostripping,soshewouldn’tresorttostealing,soshewouldn’teverhavetopickpocketanothermotherfuckerlikeme
Itookitbecauseshedeservesashotatthekindoflifeshesaysshewants.Nothingwillerasewhatheputherthrough,butmaybeit’lleaseherhurtjustenoughforhertomoveon.
“Youokay,boss?”Threeasks.
Icutmyeyesathim.“I’mfine.”
“Youneedanythingelsefromme?”
“No,”Isay.“Nottonight.”
“I’mgonnaheadhome,then.I’llseeyoulater.”
Hestartstoleave,headingtowardthedoor,asIsitdowninmychairandrunmyhandsdownmyface.Fuck.“Beforeyougo…”
Heglancesbackatme.“Yeah?”
“ThebrunettefromLimerence,theoneyou,uh…”
“Lexie?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,look,abouther,”hesays.“Iknowshewassupposedtobetheretonight,thatshewassupposedtohelp,butshewouldn’thaveflakedintentionally,youknow.Idon’tknowwhathappened,butLexie…she’sagoodgirl,soifyoucouldmaybecutherabreak,I’d—”
“She’sdead.”
Hestalls,hisexpressionfalling.“What?”
“She’sdead,”Isayagain.“Whenwehittheclubtonight,wefoundherinthebasement.”
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
He’squietforalongmoment,juststandingthere,staringatme,likehe’snotsurehowtoreact.Icanseeitinhiseyes,though.Thesadness.Thepain.Helikedher,forwhateverreason,andhe’sgrieving.Lookthemintheeyesifyouwanttoknowwhatthey’renotsaying.Mystepfatherusedtostressthat.
Theysaytheeyesarethewindowstothesoul.Isitreallyanywonderwhyminearefuckedup?
“Well…thatsucks,”hesays,runningahandthroughhisblondhair,rufflingitup.“Buthey,onthebrightside,Bruno’sback,soIguesswehavesnacksagain,huh?”
Idon’thaveitinmetotellhimnottogethishopesuponthat,becauseSevenmighthaveshownupbutIwouldn’tcallhimback,soIjustnod.He’sdeflecting.I’mnotgoingtobeabiggerassholeandcallhimoutonit.
“Goodnight,boss,”hesayquietly,walkingout.
Iturnbacktomypuzzle,mumbling,“Goodnight,Declan.”
***
“Lorenzo?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Whatdoesitlooklike?”
WhenIgetnoresponsetomyretort,mygazeturnstothelibrarydoorway,wheremybrotherstands.He’sstaringinatme,watchingme,hiseyebrowsraised.
“Itlookslikeyou’restandingthere,”hesays,“doingthesamethingyouweredoingwhenIwenttobedtwelvehoursago.”
Iglanceatmywatch.It’sshortlypastnoon.Huh.“Youwenttobedatmidnight?”
“Yes,”hesays.“Isaidgoodnight,remember?”
No.“Vaguely.”
Hestaresatmesomemore.
“I’mstillworkingonmypuzzle,”Itellhim,turningbacktoit.“I’malmostfinished.”
IonlyhaveaboutfivehundredpiecesleftoutoftheeightthousandthatmakeupMichelangelo’spaintingontheceilingoftheSistineChapel.
“Haveyoueventriedtosleep?”heasks.“I’mguessingnot,sinceyoustilllooklikethat.”
Iglancedownatmyself.Ihaven’teventakenmybootsoff.I’mcoveredindirt,sweat,fuck…evensomeblood.It’snotveryvisibleontheblackfabric,butitstillcoversmyhands,cakedundermynails.“Ihaven’tgottenaroundtoit.”
“Youknowsleepdeprivationcankillyou,right?Imean,itprobablywon’t,butitcould.”
“I’mfine,”Isay,“butifit’llmakeyoufeelbetter,PrettyBoy,I’llgotobedwhenI’mdone.”
“When’sthatgoingtobe?”
“Tomorrow,maybe.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Maybe.”
Hegrowsquiet,butIcanfeelhisjudgment.Seemsmyanswerisn’tgoodenoughforhimforwhateverreason.SometimesIthinkheforgetsI’mtheadulthere,thatIraisedhislittlepunkassandnottheotherwayaround.
Beforehecantrytolectureme,achimeechoesthroughthehouse.Instantly,IhearMelody’sshrillvoiceasshepanicsinthelivingroom,likeshe’straumatizedbythesoundofadoorbell.
Leoforgetsallaboutourconversation,rushingawaytoconsoleher.
Iignoreit,goingbacktomypuzzle,workingonitinsilence.Iassumemybrotheranswersthedoor,becauseaminuteorsolater,he’srightbackinthedoorway.“Seven’sheretoseeyou.”
“Goodforhim.”
“Yeah,herangthedoorbell,”Leosays.“Seemstothinkhisopeninvitationhasbeenrevoked,sohe’swaitingonthefrontporch.”
“Askhimifhe’scomeupwithareasonyet.”
“Uh,okay…”Leowalksaway,returningaminutelater.“Hesaysbecausehe’ssorry.”
“Notgoodenough.”
Leoleaves,oncemorereturning.“Hesayshethinkshecanstillbehelpful.”
“Well,IthinkValetparkingishelpful,butthatdoesn’tmeanIcan’tparkthefuckingcarmyself.”
Andagain.
“Hesayshe’lldowhateveryousay.”
“TellhimIsaytocomebackwhenhe’sgotsomethingrealtooffer,becauseotherwise,I’mliabletoshoothiminthefuckingface.”
Leohesitatesbeforewalkingaway.
Ifocusonthepuzzle,pieceafterpieceafterpiece,andfallintoatrance.Tunnelvision.There’sadisconnectinsideofme.Mymind’sworking,mymusclesmoving,butI’monautopilot.Afuckingrobot.Myblinksgetslower,myeyesburning,theworldaroundmeablurasthedaydriftsaway,darknessfalling.
Leokeepspoppingin,tryingtoengageinconversation.
Areyouhungry?No.
Yousure?Prettydamnpositive.
Needsomethingtodrink?I’vegotmyrum.
Areyoualmostdone?Iwouldbe,ifyou’dleavemethefuckalone
Iscrubmyhandsovermyface,groaning,squeezingmyeyesshut,butIinstantlyregretit.
WheneverIclosemyeyes,Iseeher.Scarlet
Iseehersmiling.Iseehercrying.Ihearherlaughterflowingthroughme,sendingchillsdownmyspine.Thesoundofhermoaningcreepsthroughmybloodstream,thefaceshemakesinthethroesofpassionthepulsethatspursiton.WhateverthisisI’mfeeling,Iwantittostop.Iwantittogoaway.IwanttostopfuckingseeinghereverytimeIblink.IwanttostopfuckingthinkingabouthereverytimeIpausetotakeadeepbreath.She’slikeaninfectionthat’ssettlingintomychest.IwouldripoutmyownorgansifIthoughtitmightpurgeherfrommysystem.
Ineedawitchdoctortobreakthespellthiswomanhasonme.
“Goddamnvoodoopussy,”Imutter,snatchinguptheliquorbottleandtippingitback,guzzlingthelastofitbeforeturningbacktothepuzzle.Almostfinished
You’dthinkitwouldbeeasier,sinceI’mnearingtheend,mostofitallfilledin,butyou’dbewrong.
Everythingthat’sleftlooksthesame.
OrmaybeI’mjustdrunk.
Whothefuckknows?
TheworldaroundmeislighteningagainasIgetdowntoahandfulofpieces,thesunrising,anotherdaydawning.Isnapthepiecesinplace,lookingatthelonejaggedholeinthecenterofthepuzzle,rightthereinTheCreationofAdam,probablythemostimportantpartoftheentirepainting.
Mygazescansthetableallaroundthepuzzle,searchingforthelastpiece.
Nothing
“Whatthehell?”Annoyed,Ifeelaroundalongtheedges,handsskimmingalongthepuzzle,thinkingithastobeblendingin,butIfindnothing.“Youhavegottabefuckingkiddingme.”
Ilookaroundthetable.Ilookunderthetable.Icheckmychair.Icheckinsidethebox.Isearchthebookshelvesandallalongthefloorandeveryfuckingplaceapuzzlepiececouldpossiblybeinthisroom.
“No,no,no,”Ichant,double-checkinghalfthoseplaces,evenpattingdownmyownpockets,becauseithastobesomewhere.I’mexhausted,andaggravated,andIjustwantthisgoddamnthingtobedone,togetitoverwithsoIcanmoveon.Formonths,I’vebeenworkingonthispuzzle,weeksofmylifespentputtingittogether,andforwhat?Huh?ToleaveaholeinthecenterofthegoddamnpicturesofortherestofmylifeIhavetolivewiththefactthatIneverfinishedwhatIstarted,thatInevergotitdone?
“Motherfucker!”Iyell,kickingthechair,sendingitflyingacrosstheroom,skiddingrightintothebookshelfwithabang.
“Lorenzo?”Leo’svoicecallsoutfromthedoorway.“What’swrong?”
“Hisdickisgone!”
“His…what?What’sgone?”
“Hisdick,”Isayagain,pointingatthedamnholeinthepuzzle,rightthere,cuttingthroughAdam’scrotch,cuttingitout,sothere’snothinginthatspot.“Godisbreathinglifeintoman,buthisdickisgone,sowhat’sthepoint?”
“What’sthepoint?”
“Can’tfuck,”Isay,angerbuildingupinsideofme,myfingerstingling,mychestburning,myfacegoinghot.I’msweating.“Can’teventakeapiss.He’sjustthere,halfagoddamnman…can’tdoafuckingthingforEvelikethat,canhe?No,hecan’t!Evenhisgoddamnballsaregone.There’sjust…nothing.There’safuckingholethere,Leonardo,rightwherehisdick’ssupposedtobe,andIcan’tdoshitaboutit!”
Hestepsintothelibrary,carefullyapproaching.“You’respiraling,bro.Ithinkyouneedtogolaydown.”
“Fuckyou.Andfucklayingdown.I’mfine.Sleepisn’tgoingtochangeagoddamnthing,isit?There’sstillgoingtobeahole,rightfuckingthere.It’snotgoingtojustfixitself.It’spointless…allofit.Allofthis.Ibustmyasstryingtoputitalltogether,butwhydoIbother?Fuckallofit!”
Somethinginsideofmesnaps,hittingmesodamnhardit’slikeapunchtothechest,rightinthesternum.Ithurts.Ialmostlosemybreath.Grabbingaholdofthetable,Ishoveit,throwingit,flippingthefuckingthingover,sendingthepuzzleflying.Itbreaksapart,scattering.
LeofreezesasIpacearound.It’stakingeverythinginmenottoreachformygun,tonotputbulletsthroughthetable,tonotblowholesinthefuckingthing.Runningmyhandsthroughmyhair,grippingontoit,Ikickatthepuzzleonthefloor,stompingonitasIpace,done…sofuckingdone
“You’reinlovewithher,aren’tyou?”
IcutmyeyesatLeo.“What?”
“Morgan,”hesays.“Youfellinlovewithher.”
“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
“IthinkIdo,”hesays.“Youfellforher,andyou’refreakingout,becauseshe’snotherenow.”
“Fuckyou.”
“Youdorealizeit’snottoolate,right?”
Iturnaway.Ican’tevenlookathimrightnow.I’msodamnangrythatI’mliabletodosomethingI’llregretifhedoesn’tstoprunninghismouth.“Getout.”
“I’mserious,”hesays,notshuttingup,notgettingout.“Youpushpeopleaway.Youpusheveryoneaway,andyou’rearealdickaboutitmostofthetime,butshe’snotgone,Lorenzo.She’sstilloutthere.”
“Isweartofuck,ifyoudon’tgetout…”
“You’lldowhat?Pushmeaway,too?Sorry,bro,itmightworkwithotherpeople,butIknowyou.Solashoutallyouwant…yellatme,curseme,threatenme…I’mnotgoinganywhere,ever.”
“Strongwordsforsomeonebusypackingboxestomovethefuckout.”
“It’snotlikethatandyouknowit.”
“Whatever.”
“Whatever,”hesays,mockingme.
Iturntohim,steppingtowardhim,gettingrightinhisface.Hedoesn’tbackup,doesn’tbalk.Hedoesn’tevenlookafraid.“Imight’veraisedyou,PrettyBoy,butyou’renotakidanymore,sodon’tthinkIwon’tknockyouthefuckout.”
Heraiseshiseyebrows.“StrongwordsforsomeonebusyfreakingoutbecauseI’mmovingout.”
Thelittlesonofabitchismockingmeagain
Ishoveagainsthim,pushinghimbackward,forcinghimoutofmyway.Withoutsayingaword,Igoaroundhim,walkingout.
“I’mserious,”hesays,callingaftermeasIheadforthestairs.“Youshouldgotoher,talktoher.”
“Fuckoff.”
“Getsomesleepfirst,though,”hecontinues,followingme,stoppingatthebottomofthestairsasItrudgeupthem.“Andtakeashower,too,because,bro…you’relookingabitlikesomethingoutofahorrorflick.”
***
Iknowwhatyou’rethinking:thisguy,he’sfinallygoingtogethisshittogether.He’sgoingtowakeupfromadeepsleep,havingdreamedaboutadifferentkindoflife,orit’sgoingtohithimlikeatonofbrickswhenhe’sintheshower,washingup,rubbingoneout.He’sgoingtorealizehisbrotherwasright.He’sgoingtoseethathe’sinlove.Andhe’sgoingtogoafterthewoman,likesomegoddamnhero,andthey’lllivehappilyeverafter,alwaysandforever.
Butthisisn’tsomechickflickrom-com.JohnHughesisn’tdirecting.Mybrother’snotfuckinghisgirlfriendonmycouchwhilewatchingthisonmytelevision.
That’snothowthisgoes.
Isleep.Ieatsomething.Ifinallyshower.Imopefordays,makingeverybodymiserable.Aweekpasses.Myhouseisfilledwithboxes.Mybrotherfinallygotthekeystohisrinky-dinkapartment.
Threepopsineveryday,keepingmeupdated.
ThehouseScarletandherlittlePearlwenttoturnedouttobehers.Herhome.Thehouseshetoldmeabout…shestillhasit.Yousee,allalongIthoughtmenlikeol’MelloYelloweremilkingheroutofeverypenny,thattheywerestealingeverythingshestole,becauseshehadnothingthatIsaw,butitturnsoutshewasjusthemorrhagingmoneytryingtokeepupwithtwolives—theoneshe’dbeendriftingthroughwhenImetherandtheoneshealwaysintendedtogobackto.
Shealreadyhadherpicketfence.
Shejustneededhelpgettingbacktoit.
She’dbeenpayingtherent,beenpayingtheutilities,keepingtheplacegoingeventhoughshecouldn’tstaythere,eventhoughitwasn’tsafe,becausesheplannedtoonedayhavethatlifeback.
Sheneverlosthope,despiteeverything.
Youhavetorespectthat.
Orwell,Ido.
It’saroundduskonFridayevening.Theguysareout,doingwhattheydo,makingmoneyandraisinghell,everythingrightbacktonormal.Mybrother’satwork.Hisgirlfriendis…well,whothehellknows,butshe’snothere.It’squiet,soveryquiet…notapeepinthehouse.
It’speaceful.It’sboring.
I’mbacktobeingboredoutofmyfuckingmind.
Afterpeelinganorange,Istrolloutofthekitchenandheaddownthedimhallway.JustasImakeittothefoyer,achimeechoesthroughthehouse.Doorbell.Idivertthatway,yankingthedooropen,comingface-to-facewithSeven.
Isigh.Loudly
“Foryoursake,Ihopeyou’vegotagoodreason,”Isay,leaningagainstthedoorframe,“becauseithasbeenwaytoolongsinceIshotsomebody,andyou’restillhangingoutonthetopofmylist.”
He’squietforamomentbeforesaying,“Becausewe’refamily.”
Itakeabiteofmyorange,regardinghim.“Becausewe’refamily.”
“Yes,”hesays.“Family’snotperfect.Wemakemistakes.Wedon’talwayslikeeachother,don’talwaysgetalong.SomaybeI’mtheblacksheepofthisfamily,andIdeservewhateverhappenstomebecauseofit,butwe’refamily,andwhenyou’refamily,youdeserveachance.”
Icontinuetoeatmyorange.“YouknowIkilledmymother,right?”
“Yes.”
Inod.“Justmakingsure.”
“Butthat’sdifferent,”hesays.“Family’smorethanblood.Familyiswhowechoose.SoI’mnotaskingyoutoforgiveme,notaskingyoutoforget…I’mjustaskingforachancetoearnbackyourrespect.”
Istandinthedoorwayforawhile,longenoughtofinishoffmyorange,neitherofussayinganythinguntilI’mdone.Reachingintomypocket,Ipulloutmycarkeys.
“Comeon,”Isay,steppingoutontotheporch.“Let’stakearide.”
Iftheguywassmart,he’dbailrightnow,runlikehellatthesuggestion,buthedoesn’t.Instead,henods,takingmykeysandheadingformycarwithoutquestioningwherewe’regoing.Guts
Igivehimtheaddress.
HepunchesitintotheGPS.
Ittakesusaboutanhourtogetthere,nightfallingbythetimewearrive,darknessshroudingtheneighborhood.Heparksjustdownfromtheplace,cuttingthecaroff.Igetoutbutdon’tapproach,perchingmyselfonthehoodofmycar.
Whitehouse,reddoor,quaintlittlepicketfenceinquietsuburbia.Astonewalkwayleadsfromthegatetothefrontporch,atrailofoutdoorlandscapelightsilluminatingit.Theplaceislitup,shiningbrightinthenight,asoftyellowglowcomingfromafewofthewindows.I’mnotcloseenoughtohearanything,butIcansenseshadowsastheymovearoundinside.
Sevenclimbsoutofthecar,comingovertostandbesideme.Idon’tknowhowlongIsithere,justwatchingthehouseinsilence,butit’slongenoughforthelightstoflickoff,one-by-one,untilallthat’slitupistherighttopwindow.Scarlet’sroom,Iimagine.Ifaintlycatchglimpsesofherasshemovesaround,briefflashesofherthroughthebreakinthedarkcurtains.
“Yougoingtogosayhello?”Sevenasks.
Ishakemyhead.
He’squiet,likehe’stryingtomakesenseofwhywe’rehereifit’snottovisither.Ihopehedoesn’task,becauseI’mnotinthemoodtoexplainmyself.
JustwhenI’mabouttoendthis,todowhatIcametodo,soIcangobackhomeandclosethischapter,thephoneinmypocketrings.Ilookawayfromthehouse,pullingthephoneouttoglanceatit.Blockednumber
I’mnotsurewhatcompelsmetopressthebutton,toanswerit,sinceI’veneveransweredablockedcallerbefore,butIdo.
Bringingittomyear,Isay,“Gambini.”
Thelineissilent.
Withoutawordevenspoken,Iknowit’sher.
Callitmygut.It’sjustthefeelingIget.Icansenseherontheline,Iknowshe’sthere,butshesaysnothing.Maybethere’snothinglefttosay.Maybethisisallitis,allitwas,allitcouldeverbe.Maybethisistheendofthestory.Yeah,mygutsaysitshouldbe.
Butthetraitorousheartbeatinginmychestisn’thavingthatbullshit.It’sangrilybanging,beggingmetodosomething,somethingmybraindefinitelydoesn’tagreewith.Mybrainsaysfuckthat
“Tellmeastory,”shesaysfinally,hervoicebarelyawhisper.
“Atruestoryorafairytale?”Iask.
“Surpriseme.”
“Alongtimeago,inagalaxyfar,faraway,LukeSkywalker—”
Laughtercutsmeoff.
Idon’tfinish,becauseI’mprettysureshealreadyknowshowitgoes.Silencefallsoverthelineagainbeforeshesays,“Ihaveaconfessiontomake,Lorenzo.”
“I’mlistening.”
“Pretendingtolisten?”
“No,I’mactuallylistening.”
Shesighs.“Idon’treallyknowhowtosaythis,butIneedtogetitoffmychest,andIjust…Ifeellikeyoushouldknow,thatIshouldtellyouhowIreallyfeel…”
“Justspititout,Scarlet.”
“Ireallylovetheprequels.”
Ihesitate.“Youlovetheprequels?”
“Yes,”shesays.“TheStarWarsprequels.Iknowalotofpeoplehateonthem,butIreallylovethem.”
“I,uh…Idon’tevenknowwhattosaytothat.”
“AnakinandPadme’sstorywasjustsoheartbreakinglybeautiful,youknow?ThePhantomMenaceisprobablymyfavoritemovie.”
“Oftheprequels?”
“Oftheentireseries.”
Igrimace.“You’rekidding.”
“Nope.”
“Jesus,fuck,woman…andyoucallmecrazy.You’reinsane.Ijust…whatthehelliswrongwithyou?”
Shelaughsagain.
Thegenuinekindoflaughter.
Idon’tknowthatI’veeverheardherlaughlikethatbefore,solighthearted,likeaheavyburdenhasbeenliftedoffofher.Ismileatthesound,eventhoughshe’slostherfuckingmind.
“Ifeelbetter,”shesays,“nowthatI’veconfessed.”
“Yeah,well,I’mwishingIwasn’tlistening,”Itellher.“Youshould’vesavedthatconfessionforapriest,someonewhocouldhelpyougetoverthatshit,becauseIdon’tevenknowwheretobegin.”
Shelaughssomemorebeforeitallgoesquiet.
“Thankyou,”shewhispersafteraboutofsilence.
“You’rewelcome.”
“Imeanit.”
“Iknow.”
Shesaysnothingelse,althoughIcantellthere’smoreshewantsto.Whetherornotsheshouldisanotherquestion.MaybeI’mnottheonlyonewithaheartandamindatodds
“Goodnight,Scarlet,”Isay.“Takecareofyourself.”
Hervoiceisbarelyawhisperasshesays,“Goodnight.”
Hangingup,Ishovethephonebackintomypocketbeforepushingawayfromthehoodandreachingintothebackseatofthecar,snatchingoutthefilthy,oldteddybearI’dthrowntheredaysagoaftercleaningoutthecar.Iwalkaway,finallyapproachingthehouse,myfootstepsquietasIgothroughthegateandnavigatethewalkway.Steppingupontotheporch,IpropthebearagainstthedoorwhereIknowit’llbefound.
DarknessfallsovertherestofthehouseasIwalkaway,thebedroomlightturningoff.Iclimbstraightintothepassengerseatofmycar,waitingforSeventogetinbehindthewheel.AminuteorsopassesasIstareblanklyatthedashboard,waitingforSeventostartthecar,whenIhearhisvoice.“Uh,boss…”
IclosemyeyesasIleanmyheadbackagainsttheseat,coveringmyfacewithmyhands.“Notnow.”
“But—”
“Justdrivethefuckingcar,Seven.”
“Somebody’shere.”
Somebody’shere
IlookatSeven,buthe’snotlookingatme.Hisgazeisacrosstheneighborhood,justpastScarlet’snowdarkenedhouse,whereherandherdaughterareinbed,probablybeckoningsleep.Somebodystandsthere,intheshadows,watching.Istruggletogetagoodlookuntiltheyturn,anearbystreetlightilluminatingthem.
Markel.“Shit.”
Ilookfromhimtothehousetohimagain.You’vegottabefuckingkiddingme.Instinctively,Ireachfortheguninmywaistband,eventhoughIcan’tuseit.Ican’tgoshootingallwilly-nillyinfrontofherhouse.ThelastthingsheneedsistowakeuptoadeadRussianinherfrontyard,hisbloodsplatteringherprettylittlefence.
SoIkeepmygriponmygun,justincaseIhavetouseit,incasehedoesn’tgivemeanyotherchoice,andIwatchhiminsilence,lettinghimmakethefirstmove.
Tenminutespass.
Fifteen.Twenty.
Hejuststandstherebeforewalkingaway.Leaving.IwatchashegetsintoablackSUVdownthestreet,startingituptoleave.
“Followhim,”Isay.
MarkeldrivesstraighttoLimerence,parkingoutfrontandgoinginside.Theplaceisdark,nolightson,noopensignlit.I’mnotsurewhatJamesondidaboutthegirlinthebasement,ifhedidanythingatall.Idon’tknowwhathappenedwithalloftheothergirls,either,theoneswhoworkedhereeverynight,nowthatthemanwhocontrolledthemisgone.It’spossibleMarkeltookover,butIdon’tknow…
Honestly,andmaybethismakesmeanasshole,butIdon’treallycare,either.
ButIdocarewhathappenstoScarlet.
I’mnotgoingtoletanyonehurther.
“Waithere,”ItellSeven.“I’llberightback.”
Igetout,stillclutchingmygun,andheadinsidetheclub.Darkandquiet,soquietthatthesoundofmyfootstepsechoesthroughthevastspace.
Itfeelsabandoned
I’mnotsurewherehewent,soIstartwiththeoffice,figuringthat’smybestbet,underthecircumstances.
Thedooriswideopen.
Markelsitsinside,aloneonthecouch,holdingabottleofvodka.Hetakesaswigfromitashelooksatme,notsurprisedbymypresence.Iknowhesawmethere,atthehouse.Hewould’vefiguredI’dfollow.
“Imeanthemnoharm,”hesays.
“Youexpectmetobelievethat?”
“Ah,itdoesn’tmatterwhatyoubelieve,butit’strue.”
Heshrugsmeoff,drinkinginsilence,likethat’sthat.
“So,ifyoudon’tmeanthemanyharm,whygothere?”
“Whydidyougo?”
“Prettysurethat’snoneofyourbusiness.”
Helaughs.“Icouldsaythesame.”
Istrollcloser.Callitcuriosity.Maybeit’sboredom.ButItakeaseatontheedgeofthecouchacrossfromhim,wonderingwhathisend-gameis.
It’ssilentforamomentbeforehesays,“Limerence.Doyouknowwhatthewordmeans?”
“No.”
“It’sobsession,compulsion,whenloveisnotlovebutsomethingmore…dangerous.Itisanuncontrollableneed,whenyoucannotlivewithoutsomeone.IalwaysthoughtitwasfunnyKassiannamedthisplaceLimerence,becausethatwashowhefeltabouther.Itwasasickness.Iknew,eventually,hewouldgrowsosickthathewouldkillthemall…thatiswhyIhelpedher.”
“Youhelpedher.”
“Iwassupposedtokeepaneyeonherthenightsheescaped.Isawher.Iknewwhatshewasdoing.AndIknewitwasheronlychance.SoIlookedtheotherway,andIpaidforthat.Heorderedmetofindher,andIdid,butInevertoldhim.Everynight,hesentmeoutlooking.Everynight,IwouldgotothathouseandIwouldseeher.”
“Why?”
Heshrugs.“Iwasinvested.”
“That’swhyyouwenttheretonight?Invested?”
Heshrugsagain.
“So,how’dhefindher?”Iask.“Ifyounevertoldhimwhereshelived,how’dhecatchuptoher?”
Markelstaresatme,frowning.Idon’tneedhimtoanswertoriddlethatoneout.Kassianfollowedhim
“Heusedtoofferhertome,”Markelsays.“Wheneverheleftonbusiness,hewouldhavemewatchher.Aspayment,Icouldtakeher,allnight,dowhateverIwanted.Hejusthadonerule:alwaysuseacondom.That’swhyheplannedtokillyou,youknow.Hedidn’tcareifpeopleusedherforpleasureaslongastheydidn’tleaveanytraceofthemselvesinsideofher.”
“That’safuckedupwaytothink.”
Helaughshumorlessly.“ThenightsKassianleftonbusinessweretheonlynightsMorganhadpeace.Itwastheonlytimeshesmiled.Thatwaspleasureenoughforme,soIdidn’ttouchher.”
Hetakesadrink…alongdrink…likehe’sathirstymanguzzlingwater.Hedrainstherestofthebottlebeforesittingup,discardingitonthetablebetweenus.
“Somanynights,hehurther.Musthavebeenhundredsoftimes.Onenight,hewasworsethanever.Heleftafterward,andthatnight,insteadofpeacewithme,shesoughtcomfort.Maybeitwaswrong,butIshowedherlove…andIbrokemybrother’sruleasIdidso.”Heshakeshishead,lookingaway.“Ninemonthslater,shegavebirth.”
Sonofabitch.“Youthinkthekidisyours.”
Itsuddenlymakessensewhyhe’dlooktheotherway,whyhe’dshowupoutsideofherhousenightafternight,whyhe’ddowhathedidtotrytohelpthemwhilestillprotectinghisownass.
“Well,thishascertainlybeenenlightening,”Isay,standingup,“butIthinkI’veheardenough.”
“SoyouknowImeanthemnoharm.”
“WhatIknowisthatitdoesn’tmatterwhatyoumean,becauseyouareasharmfulastheycome.”
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Iunloadthegun,bulletafterbullet,rightintohisfuckingchest,notasecondofhesitationfromthefirsttriggerpulltotheverylast,shotaftershotlightinguptheroom,untilthegundoesnothingbutclick.
CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.
Heslumpsover,fallingfromthecouchtothefloorwithathud,nolongermoving.Nolongerbreathing
Ishovethegunawayandwalkout,keepingmyheaddown.Sevenstillsitsbehindthewheel,drivingawayassoonasI’mbesidehim.
“Whereto,boss?”heasks.
“Home,”Isayquietly.“It’sover.”ChapterTwenty-Two
TheCowardlyLionlivedinagloomycastle.
Orsoitfeltlikeittothelittlegirl.Itwasn’tbesidethebeach,likethepalace,althoughitseemedtobejustasbig.Maybeevenbigger.Thisplacewascold,anddark,andoffonitsown.Isolated
Someoftheflyingmonkeysstayedthere,too,alongwithsomewomen,arotatingdoorofpeople,whichmeanttherewasalwayssomebodyaroundtowatchher.Theydidn’tactlikeshewasinvisible.No,theyactedlikeshewasaprisoner,likeaprincesslockedawayinatower.
“Hey,sweetgirl,”theCowardlyLionsaidonenight,appearingintheroomshe’dbeenkeptin,whereshe’dbeenspendingallday,everyday,withnothingmorethanamattressandasmalltelevision,lettingherwatchcartoonsforthefirsttimeinmonths.
Thepeopleinthehousewereupsetaboutsomething,yellingateachotheraboutsomeclubsomewherethatmaybegotraidedbysomebodyorsomething.Shedidn’tknow.Shedidn’tliketheirtalking,soshejustkeptturningthevolumeuponthetelevision.
ShesaidnothingtotheCowardlyLion.Notbecauseshewantedtobemean.Shejusthadnothingtosaytohim.
“Areyounotspeakingtome?”
Nothing.
“HaveImadeyouupset?”
Nothing.
Steppingintotheroom,hewalkedover,blockingherfromseeingthemovieonthescreen.ItwasToyStory,butparttwo,theonewhereWoodygotstolen.Shescowled,thinkinghe’dturnthevolumedown,butinstead,heshutitoff.
“Hey!”shesaid.“IwaswatchingWoody!”
“Toobad,”hesaid.“Maybeyoushouldnothaveignoredme.”
Sheletoutanoiseofannoyancethatmadehimlaugh,likehethoughtshewasbeingfunny.“Idon’tgotnothingtosay.”
“Youdon’thavetosayaword,”hesaid,“butyoudohavetogetupandcomewithme,becauseitistimeforyoutogo.”
“Gowhere?”sheasked,herstomachinknots.
“Gohome,”hesaid,leavingitatthat.
Home.Thatwordusedtomakethelittlegirl’sheartsoar,butnowherinsidessoured.
“Ican’tgo.Hedon’twantme.”
“Who?”
“Daddy.”
TheCowardlyLiongaveherasadsmile.“I’vespokentohim.Heagreedthatyoucouldcomehomenow.Infact,thereisasurprisewaitingforyou,onethatwillmakeyouveryhappy.”
Buster,shethought.MaybehesavedBuster
Thelittlegirlgotup,leavingwithhim,quietastheydroveawayfromthedarkcastle,headingbacktothepalace.Itwaschaoticwhentheyfinallyarrived,carsandpeopleandnoisesallaround.
“Shit,shit,shit…”TheCowardlyLionchanted,notevenbotheringtoshutoffthecar,leavingitrunningwhenhepulledtoastop.“Comeon.”
Beforethelittlegirlunderstoodwhatwashappening,heyankedheroutofthecar,leavingthedoorwideopen.Herheartracedwildlyasshelookedaroundoutside.Shedidn’trecognizethepeopleshesaw.Theyallwatchedthem,frozen,likeicesculptureswithwideeyes,holdingguns.
Guns
Thelittlegirlfeltsick.
Shethoughtshemightthrowup.
TheCowardlyLiondroppedhertoherfeetontheporch,pushingonthefrontdoor.Itwasalreadycrackedopen—nolocks,noalarm.Thelittlegirlhadneverseenitlikethatbefore.
Noiseshitherfrominside,stranglednoises,gaspingbreaths.Thelittlegirlblinkedrapidly,scaredbythesound.Tearsburnedhereyesbutshetriednottocry.
“Goon,sweetgirl,”theCowardlyLionsaid.“Yoursurpriseiswaiting.”
Shewalkedintothefoyer,takingsmallsteps.Someonewascrying,curledintoaballonthefloor.Thelittlegirlcreptcloser,alarmed,assomethinginsideofhergotalltangledup.
Amankneltthere,hisfaceslashedwithabigscar,butthelittlegirlonlyvaguelynoticedheexistedatall.No,herattentionwasfixedtothewomanhunchedover.Shecouldhardlybelieveit.Hereyeswerecloudyfromtears,butshecouldstillseehersoclearly.
“Morgan,”theguysaid,standingup.“Openyoureyes,baby.”
Thewomanlooked,thesightofhernearlycrippling,thelittlegirl’skneesgoingweak.Mommy.Shewasthere,rightinfrontofher,notasleepanymore.Hereyeswereopen,lookingstraightather.“Sunshine?”
Thelittlegirltrembled.“Mommy?”
Thewomanopenedherarms,sobbing,andthatwasallittook.Emotionfloodedthroughthelittlegirlasshelaunchedherselfrightather.
“Youfoundme,Mommy.Youfoundme!”ChapterTwenty-Three
Buster
It’sthefirstthingIseewhenIopenthefrontdoor.Itfallsover,halfwayinthehouse,halfwayontheporch,thedecrepitteddybearproppedupthere.Themomentmyeyesmeetit,myinsidesdrop.Myheartstops.Breathhitching,mygazescanstheareaaroundthehouse,caughtoffguard.
It’sneardawn,thesunslowlyrising,lighteningthequietneighborhood.Nothinglooksoutofplace.
Nofamiliarcars.
Nofamiliarfaces.
NoLorenzo
Ileftthebearathishouse.Iknow.IsawitthemorningKassianshowedup.Ithadbeenlyingintheunmadebed,tangledupwiththesheets.
Reachingdown,Icarefullypickitupbeforesteppingoutontotheporch,keepingthefrontdooropenbehindme,tolisteninside,incaseSashawakesup.Ijustneedsomefreshair.Ineedoutofthere.
ComingbackherewasharderthanIimagined.
Sighing,Isitdownonthetopstep,huggingthebearasIstareoutattheneighborhood.It’sstrange,youknow.Ilivedhereforyears.Webuiltalifeinthishouse,foundhappinesswithinthesewalls,lovedbeneaththesloped,darkroof,andformonthsafteritallfellapart,Iyearnedtobebackhere.Butsteppinginsidenow,allIfeelistheheartache.Ifeelthevoid.Theviolence.Thepain
WhenIwalkthehalls,IfeelthefearIfeltthatnight,whenKassianshowedupatthefrontdoorunderthecloakofdarkness,andItoldSashatohide.WhenIstepintothekitchen,Ifeelhandsaroundmythroat,squeezingthelifeoutofme,stealingmysoul.
Itdoesn’tfeellikehomeanymore.
“Mommy?”
Sasha’svoiceisquiet,guarded,asitringsoutbehindmeinthedoorway.Iturnmyhead,lookingbackatherassheeyesmewarily.Ididn’thearherapproach.Somuchunlikethelittlegirlwhogrewupinthishouse,whocouldn’teverseemtotiptoebecauseshedancedwhenshewalked.Shehasalwaysbeengoodathiding,butshe’dlearnedtosneakaround,learningtonotmakeasound.Ican’tevenbringmyselftodwellonhowthatcameabout.
“Hey,sunshine,”Isay,givingherasmile.“Somebodyelsewantstosayhello,too.”
Hereyesflickeraround,alarmed.“Who?”
Iholdupthebear.“Thislittleguy.”
Shehasn’tmentionedhim,soI’mnotsurehowshe’sgoingtoreact.Maybeshewon’tcare.MaybeKassianstolethatpartofher,thepartthatbelievedinmagic,thepartofherthatlovedherbearlikehewasreal.Maybeshewon’twanthim.Maybeshe’llbeupset.Maybeshe’llthinkheletherdown,becauseshealwaysbelievedthedamnbearwouldprotectus.Maybe…maybe…maybe…butIhopeitisn’tso.Ineedhertostillhavesomeofthatinnocenceshedeserves.
Shelooksatit,hereyeswidening,asIholdmybreath.Ittakesherasecondbeforesheevenreactsatall.“Buster!”
Shesprintsoutontotheporch,snatchingthebearfrommyhand,beforeflingingherselfatme,nearlyknockingmedown.Ilaughassheclingstobothmeandthebear.
“Mommy,it’sBuster!”shesqueals.“Hecameback!”
“Hedid.”
“Wheredidyoufindhim?”
“Righthere,”Isay.“Hewassittingontheporch,waitingforus,thismorningwhenIwokeup.”
Shesmiles,awidekindofsmile.Herwholefacelightsup.Sittingdownbesidemeonthestep,pressingupagainstme,shestudiesthebearinherlap.Herfingersrunalongthemessy,darkstitchesholdingpartsofthebeartogether.“Somebodygavehimsurgery.TheysavedhimfromDaddy!”
Itrytokeepastraightface,butIgrimace.Daddy.Themanneverdeservedthattitle.
“Or,”Isay,nudgingher,“maybeBustersavedhimself.”
“Maybe,”sheagrees,pausingbeforeadding,“buthedidn’tgivehimselfhissurgery.”
“Howdoyouknow?”
Shegivesmealook,likeI’mbeingridiculous.“Becausehecan’t.”
“Whynot?”
“Hedoesn’thavenothumbs.Heonlyhashispaws.”
“Oh.”Iglanceatthebear.Can’treallyarguewiththatlogic.Shewasalwaystoosmartforherowngood.“Well,inthatcase,somebodyelsecertainlygavehimsurgery,butitlookslikehestillneedssomemorework.”
He’sstillmissinghisrighteye.
Needsagoodscrubbing,too.
He’sfilthy
“Daddydidn’tlikeBuster,”shesays.“HeputhiminhisfirebecausehesaidIwasbeingbad,andthenIcouldn’thavehimbackuntilIsaidIlovedhim,butthenhedidn’tevenbelievemewhenIdid,soInevergothimagain.”
Shefrowns,pokingherbottomlipout.
Ihavenoideawhattosay,howI’msupposedtohandlethis,howI’msupposedtoexplainittohersoshe’llunderstand.Iwasneverexactlyequippedtobeamother,butthisissooutofmyrealmofexpertise.I’mterrifiedofmessingherup,ofhergrowinguptraumatized.Idon’thavealittleDr.Philinmypockettowalkmethroughthesethings,soI’mjustgoingtoberealwithher,becausehonestyisthebestpolicy,right?
“Youdidn’tdeservethat,sunshine,”Isay.“Everythinghedid,nomatterwhatitwas,itwasn’tyourfault.You’renotbad,andheshouldn’thavedonethosethings,okay?”
“Okay,”shewhispers.
“I’mserious,”Itellher.“Andyoudon’thavetocallhim‘Daddy.’Youcan,ifyouwant,butyoudon’thaveto.Youdon’thavetocallhimanything.”
“HetoldmeIhaveto.”
“Ifigured,butyoudon’t.”
“Butwhatifhegetsmad?”sheasks.“WhatifhetakesBusteraway?”
“Hewon’t,”Isay.“Ipromise.”
“But—”
Igentlygraspherchin,tiltingherfaceup.“Nobuts.He’llnevergetmadatyou,nevertakeBuster,nevershowuphereagain…he’sgone,sunshine.Forever.Soyoucancallhimwhateveryouwant,oryoucancallhimnothingatall.It’sokay.”
Shestaresatmeforamoment.“Didhenevergethisheartorsomething?”
Mybrowfurrows.“What?”
“TinMan,”shesays.“That’swhathewascalled.Iheardyousayhehadnoheart,liketheTinManinthatmovie.”
Mystomachsinks.“Uh,Idon’tknow.Maybehehadaheart,buthedidn’tshowittome,soIcouldn’tseeit.Butitdoesn’tmatter,becauseit’sallover.Wewon’thavetoplayHide&Seekanymore,okay?”
“Okay,”shesays,“becauseIdon’twanttoplayever.”
“Me,either.”Ismile.“Whatdoyouwanttodo?”
Sheshrugs.
“Comeon,therehastobesomething,”Isay.“We’llgetoutofthishouse,justyouandme.”
“AndBuster,too?”
“AndBuster.”
“Canwegoeathotdogs?Andridethatbigwheelthing?Youknow,theonethatgoeswhoosh,whoosh,whooshwiththelightsandthemusic?”Sheholdsherhandout,makingcircles.Ferriswheel.“Theyhaveoneatthatplacewiththebeach…”
ConeyIsland.
“I,uh…sure.Ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
Shenods.
“Well,then…howaboutwegogetdressedandmakeadayofit?”
Shethrowsherselfatmeagain.“You’rethebest,Mommy!”
Mystomachisinknotsasshegetsupandrunsintothehouse.ConeyIslandisn’twhereI’dchoosetobe,butwhatevermakesherhappy.
WhereI’dchoosetobe,ifIhadachoice,isatawhitehousewithapicketfencesurroundingit…justnotthisone.
***
WespendtheentireafternoondowninConeyIsland,ridingridesandplayinggamesandstuffingourfacesfullofhotdogsandicecreamandcottoncandy.She’sglowing,likeaweighthasbeenliftedoffofhersmallshoulders,somuchmylittlegirlagain,carefreeandhappy.Notbroken
I’mnotgoingtosayshe’soverit.That’salie.Shemaynevergetoveralotofwhathappened,butshe’lllearntolivewiththememoriesshecan’tforget,becauseshe’sresilient.
She’sdefinitelymychild.
It’searlyeveningwhenwestrollthroughnearbyshops,herluggingBusterunderherarminaheadlock,asIcarryhernewlittlefriend—astrangelookingrainbow-stripedmonkeyshewonshootingclownswithtinywaterguns.Weendupinalittlebookstore,aislespiledhighwithusedbooks.SashastayswhereIcanseeher,neverleavingmylineofsight,asshescoursthroughstacksofchildren’sbooks.Ipickupabookoffairytales,flippingthroughittoseeifSashamightlikeanyofthestorieswhenonecatchesmyeye.
TheJuniperTree
Iknowthatone.
Well,Irememberit,vaguely.
Lorenzotoldmethestory.
Hisfavoritefairytale.
Leaningagainsttheshelf,Iskimthestory,realizingquitequicklyLorenzodidahorriblejobofsummarizing.Hestoppedmidwaythrough,nevertellingmehowitended.Somestoriesdon’thavehappyendings,he’dsaid.
Thatlyingsonofa—
“Mommy?”
Iglanceupfromthebook,lookingatSasha.“Yes?”
“CanIhavethis?”sheasks,holdingupabook,thisonealsoaboutfairytales,buthershaspicturesandcolorandismadebyDisney,unlikethecrazyshitI’mreading.“Please?”
Iprobablydon’thavetotellyouthatthere’snowayIcouldevertellhernorightnow.Nomatterwhatthegirlasksfor,it’saresounding‘hellyeah’.IfIcan’taffordit,I’llfuckingstealit,butbeingasthebookhasapricetagofadollar,Ithinkwe’llbejustfine.
Lorenzomadesureofthat.
Lorenzo
IglancebackatthebookI’mholding,closingitasItellher,“Ofcourseyoucanhaveit.Comeon,let’sgetoutofhere.”
IpayforthebookI’mholding,aswellasSasha’s,andweheadoutofthestore,makingourwaybacktotheboardwalk,strollingalongitasIholdherhand.
She’sashappyascanbe,asshesomehowconvincesmetolethertakehershoesoffandplayinthesand(yeah,right…likeI’dtellherno,remember?),makingalittlemakeshiftcampsiteasshesetsupBusterandMr.No-NameMonkeyandtriestoreadherbooktothem.
Newsflash:she’sonlyfive,whichmeansshecan’treallyread,soshe’sjustmakingupsomenonsense.
Stillbetterthanthebullshithalf-storyLorenzotoldme
“Comeon,sunshine,”Isayastimewearson,wantingoutoftherebeforesunset,stillnotsurehowsafeitisforus.“Timetogetgoing.”
“Home?”sheasks,lookingupatme,herexpressionfalling.“Dowehavetogohome,Mommy?”
Ifrown.Idon’tthinkshelikesbeingthereanymorethanIdonow,thebadovershadowingsomanyyearsofgood.“Uh,no,notifyoudon’twantto.Wouldyourathergosomewhereelse?”
Shenods.“Busterdoesn’tlikethathousesomuchnow.”
“Hedoesn’t?Why?”
“Hedidn’tlikewhenyouweresleepinginthekitchen.”
Sleepinginthekitchen.“Hesawthat?”
“Yes,hegotscared‘cuzyoudidn’twakeupwhenwetriedtowakeyou.”
“Youtriedtowakeme?”
Shenods.
“Youcameoutofyourhidingspotthatnighttotrytowakeme?”
Shenodsyetagain.
“Andthat’showhefoundyou?”
Yetanothernod.
“Wedon’thavetogohome,”Itellher,“sotellBusternottoworry.Wecangosomewhereelse.”
“Where?”
Ithinkaboutthatforamoment,lookingatBuster,asIpullSashatoherfeet.“HowwouldyouliketogomeetthepersonwhodidBuster’ssurgery?”
Hereyeswiden.“Really?”
“Really,”Isay,pickingupBuster.“He’safriendofmine.He’snotthebestatstitching,buthe’sgotsomethingelsegoingforhim.”
“What?”
“UnliketheTinMan,Iknowhe’sgotaheart.”
***
ThesunissettingasIstepthroughthegateofthesmallpicketfenceinQueens,leadinguptothehouse.Sashaclingstightlytomyhand.Icantellshe’snervous.
Fuck,I’mnervous.
I’vebeenputtingoffcominghere,notbecauseIhaven’twantedto.Ihave.I’veputitoffbecauseI’mnotsurehewantsmehere,andthatkindofrejectionsucksseriousballs.Lorenzowalkedawayaweekagowithoutevensayinggoodbye,likehecouldjusteasilydismissmefromhislife,andBustershowinguponmyporchthismorning…well,that’sjustacherryonthisfuckedupsundaeIcalllife.Buster’spresencefeltlikeseveringties.
Idon’tacceptit
Steppingupontotheporch,Iraisemyhandtoknockbeforehesitating,myfistintheair,mygazedriftingtothedoorknob.Fuckit.Igrabit,turningtheknob,findingitunlocked.
Ofcourse.Ipushthedoorrightopen.I’veneverknockedbefore,andI’mnotgoingtostartnow.
ThemomentIstepinside,pullingSashaintothefoyer,voiceshalt,eyesturningtowardme.LeoandMelodystandinthelivingroomdoorway.
“Morgan!”Melodygasps,lungingrightformeasSashashiftsherselfbehindme,duckingoutofsight.“Ohmygod,Ican’tbelieveyou’rehere!”
“Hey,”Isay,pattingherbackassheclingstomeastightlyasSashahad.“It’sgoodtoseeyou.”
“Me?”Melodyshovesoutofthehug,tearsbrimminghereyes.“Lookatyou!ThelasttimeIsawyou,ohgod,Morgan…Ithought…Imean,Ididn’tthinkyouweregoingto…you’refrickin’alive!Ithoughtforsureyouweredead!IthoughtthatRussianasshole—”
“Mel,”Leosays,cuttingheroff,comingbetweenusashepullshisgirlfriendaway.“Notthetimeforthat,babe.Littleearsarelistening.”
Melodylooksathimwithconfusion.“Littlewhat?”
“Ears,”hesays,divertingherattentionashemotionstowhereSashapeeksoutfrombehindme.
Melodyglancesdown,herexpressionshifting,fromconfusiontoshockbeforejumpingrighttoexcitement.Nohesitation,shedropstoherkneesinthefoyer,makingthemeye-level.“Heythere!I’mMelody!What’syourname?”
“Sasha,”shesaysquietly,steppingoutintheopen,likeshe’sdecidedshelikesMelody.Notsurprising,sincethey’rebothlittlefirecrackers
“Sasha,”Melodysays.“That’ssuchabeautifulname!”
“Thankyou,”shesays.“Mommygavemeit.”
“Yourmommyhasgreattaste.”
Leomakesanoise,half-scoff,half-laugh,thatdrawsourattention.Heholdshishandsupdefensivelyrightaway.“Hey,I’mnotdisagreeing.Justimaginingmybrother’sreactiontothatstatement.”
MelodyrollshereyesbeforeturningbackatSasha,scanningher,attentionsettlingonBusterclutchedunderherarm.“Hey,Irememberthisguy!Bruiserorsomething,right?”
Sashalaughs,thelightheartedsoundwarmingme.“He’sBuster.”
“Buster,”Melodyrepeats,movingontotherainbowmonkey.“Andwho’sthisone?”
“Hedoesn’thavehisnameyet,”Sashasays.“Wejustgothimtoday.”
“Huh,heneedsaname,”Melodysays.“Agoodone,somethingasawesomeasheis.”
“Leo,”Leochimesin.
“No,”Melodysays,“nothappening.”
Leoshrugsitoff,asMelodyandSashachatterbackandforth,theattentionturningtothebookSasha’sholding.Melodytakesitfromher,expressionlightingup.“Oh,Cinderella,she’stotallymyfavoriteprincess!”
“Doyouwannareadit?”Sashaasks,hervoicealittlelouderthanithadbeen.“Wecan!”
“Hellyeah,”Melodysays,standingup,holdingthebook,goingpalewhensherealizeswhatshesaid.“Oops.”
“CanMelodyreadmybook,Mommy?”Sashaasks,lookingupatmeasshetugsmyhand.“Please?”
“Ofcourse,”Isay,gentlypushinghertowardMelody.“Goahead,it’sokay.I’mnotgoinganywhere,Ipromise.”
Shemusttrustthat,andshemustreallylikeMelody,becauseshegrabsherhandandletshertakeherintothelivingroomwithoutsecond-guessingit.IturntoLeooncethey’reoutofearshot,seeinghimgrinningashewatcheshisgirlfriend.
“She’sgreatwithkids,”Leosays.
“Iseethat.Yougoingtogiveheroneofherownsoon?”
Helaughsincredulously,turningtowardme.“Notuntilwe’remarried.”
“Strongmorals?”
“Morelikescaryassbrother,”hesays.“He’dwhipmyassifIdidn’tdoittherightway.”
Heprobablywould,Ithink.
“Speakingofyourscaryassbrother,”Isay,glancingaround,surprisedhehasn’tappeared.“Whereishe?”
Leo’sexpressionfalls.“Library,Iguess.”
“Youguess?”
“Yeah,he,uh…”Leolaceshishandstogetherontopofhishead.“He’spissedoffattheworld,touchy…twitchy.It’sbeenprettyunbearable.”
Isigh.
IwishIcouldsayIwassurprised.
“Hegothomelastnight,andIdon’tknow…somethingseemeddifferent,”Leocontinues.“Iknowhe’sdealingwithalot,withmemovingoutandwithwhathappenedwithyou,buthewasjustnext-levelwhatever,talkingaboutpackingupandgoingbacktoFlorida.”
Mystomachdrops.“Florida?”
“Yeah,hesaidhe’sgotworktododownthere,butIdon’tknow…feelskindoflikehe’srunning,whichisverymuchnotLorenzo.”
Yeah,that’snotLorenzoatall.
“So,thelibrary,yousaid?”
Istepbyhim,headingdownthehallway.
“Uh,yeah,buthe’snotreallyfeeling…hospitable.”
Thedoorisclosed.IseethatasIapproach.Notastitchoflightfiltersoutfromthecrackbeneathit,whichmeansifhe’sinthere,he’sjustsittinginthedarkness,allalone.IglancebackatLeo,andit’sasifhecanreadmymind,becausehegivesmeasmallsmileandpointstowardthelivingroom,saying,“I’llkeepaneyeonourgirls.”
“Thankyou,”Iwhisper,barelymakingasound,beforeIturntotheclosedlibrarydoorandtakeadeepbreath.
Thistime,outofrespect,Iknock.
There’snosoundinside,nofootstepsorvoices,notapeepatall,likeheisn’tthere.
Iknockagain.
Nothing
Athirdknockisagainmetwithsilence,whichtellsmeIcouldknockallnightandhewouldn’tanswer.
Knocking’spointless.
Soinstead,Igrabtheknobandopenthedoor.
Hemovesfast,reacting.
Rightaway,Ihearaguncock.
Withinseconds,it’saimedatmychestfromacrosstheroom.
Idon’tmove,juststandinginthedoorway,staringathim.He’ssittinginhischair,glaringmyway,hischestrisingandfallingharshly,nostrilsflaring.
He’sfurious
Shadowscoverhim.Icanbarelymakehimoutasdarknessshroudsthehouse,nightfallingaroundus.He’sdressedinallblack,blendingintohissurroundings.Hehasn’tshavedinafewdays,andIdon’tknowifhe’sbeensleeping,becausehelookseverybitthescaryassbrother
ButI’mnotafraidofhim.
“Iknocked,”Isay.“Youdidn’tanswer.”
“Andthatdidn’ttellyousomething?”
“Ittoldmealot.”
“Yetthereyoustand.”
“WouldyouratherIhavewentaway?”
Hesaysnothing.
He’snotgoingtoanswerthatquestion.
Afteraminuteorsopasses,helowersthegun.That’salltheanswerIneedfromhim.He’snotgoingtoshootme.Ifhewere,hewould’vedoneitwaybackatthestart.
Carefully,Ipushawayfromthedoorandstrollintothelibrary,comingclosertohim.
Inoticerightawaythatthetableisturnedover,puzzlepiecesscatteredallalongtheflooraroundhim.Wordlessly,Igrabthetable,flippingitbackontoitslegs.It’sapainintheass,heavy,butImanagetogetituprightagainwithoutanyhelp—whichisgood,becausehedoesn’tlooklikeheplannedtoofferany.Ipickupthelampnext,pluggingitbackinbeforesettingitontheendofthetable.
AssoonasIturniton,Lorenzodramaticallywinces.
Ilaughathisreaction,perchingontheendofthetablenearhimasIlookaround.“Whathappenedtoyourpuzzle?”
“Adam’sdickdisappeared.”
Mybrowfurrows.“What?”
Herunshishandsdownhisface,grumbling,“Apiecewasmissing.”
“Oh.”Ilookatthemess,mychesttightening,notmentioningthefactthatitprobablygotlostthenighthefuckedmeontopofit.“Thatsucks.”
Helaughsbitterlyashetiltshisheadback,slouchinginthechair,stretchinghislegsout,coveringhiseyeswithhisforearm.Thegunrestsonhisthigh,inhislap,hisfreehandontopofit,keepingitsecurelyinplaceashislegsteadilymovesbackandforth.Antsy
“There’smoretothestory,”Isayquietlyafteramoment.
Hisarmshifts,hiseyesmeetingmine.
“TheJuniperTree,”Isay,holdingupthebookIboughttoshowhim.“Thelittleboyisreincarnatedintoabird,whichisbornfromthetree.Thebirdsingsasong,ratsoutthestepmother,andshediesaspunishmentforkillinghim,beforehe’sonceagainrebornintoakid.”
Lorenzoblinksafewtimes,hisvoicecompletelyflatashesays,“Thatsoundslikebullshit.”
“Betterthanthestoryyoutoldme.”
“Ilikemyversionbetter.”
“Doyou?”Iask.“Really?”
Anotherquestionthatgoesunanswered.
“Didn’tthinkso,”Iwhisper.
Hesitsup.Fast.Sofastitcatchesmeoffguard.Ifreezeinplaceasheshovesoutofthechair,grippingtheguntightlysoitdoesn’tfalltothefloor.Hedoesn’taimit,doesn’tevenraiseit,insteadslammingitdownonthetablebesidemeashestallsinfrontofme.“Whatdoyouwantfromme,Scarlet?Huh?Haven’tIdoneenoughforyou?”
“You’vedonemorethanenough,but—”
“But,”hesays,cuttingmeoff.“There’salwaysabut,isn’tthere?Nothing’severgoodenoughasitis;wehavetotackonafuckingbut.”
IstarehiminthefaceasIsetthebookdownonthetable.He’sstrugglinghardtocontrolhimselfrightnow.Idon’tknowwhat’sgottenintohim,butsomethinghashimteeteringontheedge.
“Areyouokay?”Iwhisper,pressingmypalmtohisscarredcheek,mythumbgentlystrokingtheroughskin.
Hedoesn’tlikethat.
Atall
Instantly,hepullsback,movingoutofmyreach,angerflickeringacrosshisexpression.Heleavesthegunonthetablebesidemeasheclencheshishandsintofists,likehe’sabouttopunchsomething,likehemightfindthatsomuchmoresatisfyingatthemomentthanpumpingbulletsthroughwhateveritmaybe.
Notme,though.
Hewon’thitme.
YoumightbesittingtherethinkingI’mstupid,thatI’minsaneforthinkingthatway.Afewminutesago,theguyhadagunaimedatme,sowhatmakesmethinkhe’llkeephishandstohimself?
Well,it’ssimple,really…it’swhatItoldSasha.
He’sgotaheartinhischest.
IseeitwhenIlookhimintheeyes.Iseetheagonyhefeels.He’stortured,twisted,alltiedupinknots.He’sbusybeatinghimselfupinside.Butmostpeopledon’tseethat,becausetheydon’tlookathim.Theyturnawayfromthesurface,terrified,becausewhatheshowstheworldcanbedownrightfuckingscary.Butiftheyjusttookasecondtoreallyseehim,they’dknowwhatIknow.
They’dbelievewhatIbelieve.
AndwhatIbelieveisthismanisfarfrombeingamonster.I’velivedwithmonsters.Iknowthem.Andmaybe,onthesurface,Lorenzofallsintothatcategory.Legallydefined,hemightbeaserialkiller,ormaybeaspreekiller…Iknowhehaskilled.Whoknowshowmanyliveshe’staken—I’mnottryingtojustifythat.Psychologically,they’dprobablydiagnosehimassomethingdangerous,butIbelievetheworldiswrongabouthim.
BecauseIseewhattheydon’tbotherlookingfor,assumingitmustnotbethere.
Iseehisconscience.Iseehiscompassion.
I’velistenedtotheheartstronglybeatinginhischestthathedesperatelytriestosilencetokeepeveryonefromhearing.
“Whyareyouhere?”Lorenzoasks,anedgeofangertohisvoice,histonealmostaccusatory.“Whatdoyouwant?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isay,becauseit’strue…Idon’tknow.IcouldlistoffreasonsalldaylongastowhyImightbestandinghere,butI’llneverknowwhichwasthereasonthatputmeinthisroom.Gratitude.Guilt.Regret.Longing.Maybeit’sallofthose,ormaybeit’ssomethingmore,somethingdeeper.“Ijust…don’tknow.”
Helooksawayfromme,scrubbinghishandsoverhisfaceashestartstopace.“Whyareyoudoingthistome?Huh?Whycan’tyoujuststop?Whycan’tyouleave?Justgothefuckaway?”
“Isthatwhatyouwant?”
“Yes!”
HeyellsthewordsoloudthatIcringe.Ohno,hishandswon’teverhitme,buthiswordsmight.It’slikeapunchstraighttothechest.
“Iwantyougone,”hesays.“Iwantyououtofmylife.Outofmysystem.Idon’twanttospendanothergoddamnsecondthinkingaboutyou,wonderingaboutyou,worryingaboutyou.Idon’twanttolookatyou,don’twanttoseeyouorsmellyouortasteyouorhearyou.Idon’twantthis.Doyougetthat?Idon’twantanyofthis.It’sdrivingmefuckinginsane.Ican’tsleep.Ican’teat.Ican’tthink.Ihatethis,whateverthisis…whateverthisbullshitisthatI’mfeelingbecauseofyou.Makeitgoaway.”
Ijuststareathim,becauseIdon’tknowwhattosaytothat.Idon’tknowmuchofanythingrightnowexceptwhatI’mfeeling,andeventhatishardtocomprehend.
“Youwantthefairytale,”hecontinues.“Youwantthehappyending.Youwantthelittleboytobeafuckingbirdsohecanflyawayandmakeeverythingokay,butIcan’tdoit.I’vetoldyouthat.It’snotme.”
“Iknow.”
“Sowhythefuckareyouhere?”
“BecauseIloveyouanyway.”
It’sliketheworldstopsatthatmoment.
IwishIcouldsayitwasbeautiful.
WishIcouldsaythesunshinedandtheflowersbloomedandthebirdssang.WishIcouldsaytherewerefireworks,thattherewashappiness,thatthestarsalignedjustright.Butthisisn’tMaryPoppins.I’mnogoddamnCinderella.ThefairytaleI’msittinginthemiddleofrightnowisn’tmadebyDisney.
There’snotasymphonyplayinginthebackground.
ThewordismeekwhenIsayit,barelyawhisper.Ihadn’tmeantforittocomeout.Itwasn’tsomethingIplannedtosaytohim.I’veneversaidittohimbefore,struggledadmittingiteventomyself,butit’strue,thetruestsyllableI’veeverspoken.
Love
Ilovethisdangerous,menacingasshole.
Icanveryeasilystandonmyowntwofeet,butthethoughtoflosinghimmakesmykneesgoweak.Thethoughtofnothavinghimaroundmakesmychestache.Icanbreathewithouthim.Idon’tneedhim.He’llnevercompleteme,becauseI’malreadycomplete.Butyetsomuchofmeisnowtangledupwithsomuchofhimthatthethoughtoflivingtherestofmylifewithouthimaroundmakesmefeelcoldinside,likehegivesmemywarmth.
“Don’t,”hesays,ormorelikehegrowls,stillnotlookingatme.“Don’tfuckingsaythat.”
“It’stoolate,”Iwhisper.“Ialreadysaidit.”
“Don’tdothistome.”Heshakeshishead,stillpacing.“Whyareyoudoingthistome?Whycouldn’tyoujustfuckoffandgofindyourpicketfence?”
“There’sonerightoutside.”
Hisheadturns,hisgazeshiftingmywaywhenIsaythat.“Notthatone.”
“Well,Imean,youdidn’texactlyspecify…”
Hedoesn’tlookamusedbythat.Helookslikehewantstorunoutsiderightnowandsetthefenceonfirebeforerippingitoutoftheground.
“Whatdoyouwant,Morgan?”heasksafteramoment,hisvoicelow.“Just…tellmewhatyouwantfromme.Ican’tstandhereanddothiswithyou.”
“Younamedme,”Isay.That’snotthefirsttimeI’veheardhimcallmebymyrealname.Morgan.“Youonlynamewhatyoukeep,remember?”
Hejuststaresatme.
“SoI’llgoaway,ifthat’sreallywhatyouwant,ifthat’swhatwillmakeyouhappy.I’llleaveyoualone,Lorenzo.You’llneverhavetoseemeagain,andyoucanforgetIeversaidwhatIjustsaid.WecanpretendIdidn’tmeanitandgoourseparateways.But…younamedme.Andmaybeit’sstupidofmetobelievethis,andI’mnottryingtomakeshitweird,butitmakesmethinkyoumightfeelthesameway.Soifthat’strue…”
Itrailoff,andhesaysnothing.Hisexpressionisblank,amaskofnothingness.Igivehimamomenttorespond,tothinkaboutwhatI’msaying,butitgetstobetoomucheventually.
I’mbearingmyhearttohim,whensomuchofmeishardenednotto,andhe’snotreacting.
MaybeI’mwrong.
Maybehe’stryingtosparemyfeelingshere.
Pushingawayfromthetable,Iturntoleave.Ifhewantsmegone,I’llgo.I’mnotgoingtopushhim.Imakeitafewstepsbeforehereachesout,snatchingaholdofmywrist.
Iglanceathishandbeforelookingathim.
Theworldstopsyetagain.
Thistime,it’snotquitesougly.
Hedoesn’tsayanything.
What,didyoureallyexpecthimto?
Haveyoubeenpayingattentionatall?
He’snotamanofemotionaldeclarations.Heshowsyouhecaresthroughhisactions.Andwords…they’rejustwords,remember?Lettersandsyllables.Kassiantoldmehelovedmesomanytimesthatthosewordsdon’thavehalfthemeaningasLorenzoclutchingmywristdoesashestopsmefromwalkingoutofhislife.
Hestaresatme.
Iwaitforhimtospeak.
“Theprequelsaresomeoftheworstmoviesevermade,”hesayseventually,findinghisvoice.“You’llneverconvincemeotherwise.”
“Comeon,theyhaveGeneralGrievous.He’sbadass.”
“Yeah,buttheyalsohaveJarJarBinks,whoshould’veneverbeencreated.”
“Ithoughthewaskindoffunny.”
“He’sanabomination.”
“Andwhat,likewe’renot?”
Hisseriousexpressioncracksforjustamomentashepullsmetohim.Heletsgoofmywrist,insteadcradlingmyfaceasheleansdown,gentlykissingmylips.It’ssoft,andsweet,afewsimplepecks,asIclosemyeyesandgrasphisforearms,savoringthemoment.
I’vemissedthis.Missedhim
It’sonlybeenaweeksinceI’veseenhim,twoweekssinceI’vekissedhim,butalifetimeofhellpassedwithinthattime.Itrytodeepenthekiss,eagerformore,groaningintohismouth,whenasmallvoicecallsout.
“Mommy?”
Thesoundstartlesme.
Lorenzopullsaway.Fast
Iturn,seeingSashainthedoorway,hereyesbouncingbetweenmeandLorenzo,alarmed.Leo’sbehindher,justoutinthehallway.
“Sorry,didn’tmeantointerrupt,”Leosays.“Itgotquiet,soIfigureditwassafe,andshesaidshewasthirsty,andIwasn’tsurewhatshewasallowedtodrink,andwell,thekitchenisthisway,so…”
“It’sokay,”Itellhim,sohe’llstopstammering,beforemotioningtoSasha.“Comehere,sunshine.”
Sheapproaches,andIkneelbesideher.SheeyesLorenzosuspiciously,lookingupathim,whilehestaresdownatherlikehethinksshemightbite.They’rebothdamnnervous.It’skindofcute.
Imean,there’sachanceone(orboth)ofthemmightfreakthefuckoutanysecond,butstill…cute
“Sasha,thisisMommy’sfriend,Lorenzo.HehelpedmewhenIwaslookingforyou,helpedmefindyou.”
“AnddidsurgeryonBuster?”sheasksquietly.
“Yeah,he’stheonewhosewedupourBuster,”Isay.“Thatwasniceofhim,wasn’tit?”
Shenods.
“AndLorenzo,thisis—”
“YourlittleScarletLetter,”hesays.
“Uh,yeah,that’sonewaytoputit,”Isaywithalaugh.“Yousaidyouwantedtoknowwhatamini-mewaslike,soheresheis.”
Neitherofthemsaysanythingrightaway.
Theyjuststareateachother.Assessing
It’slikethey’resizingoneanotherup,gettingareadonthecompetition,gaugingwhetherornotthey’llbewillingtosharemyattention.I’mnotatallsurprisedwhenit’sSashathatcracksfirst,butthewordsthatflyfromherlipsnearlyknockmeonmyass.
“Howdidyourfacegetallhurt?”
Shepointsathim,rightathisface,athisscar
Lorenzoblinksather.
Ohgod
“Sasha,baby,youknowwedon’t—”
“It’sfine,”Lorenzosays,cuttingmeoff,hisgazeonher.“Youwanttoknowwhathappenedtome?”
Sheslowlynodsbeforecuttinghereyesatme,likeshe’sworriedI’mgoingtobemad.Nothim,no…she’snotworriedabouthim.Ifshewere,shewouldn’thaveaskedthat.I’mthescariestoneintheroom,apparently.
Lorenzohesitates,likehe’sconsideringhowtoanswer,orevenifhestillwantstoanswer.Buteventually,hesays,“Igothurtalongtimeagobyaverybadman.”
“Whatkindofbadman?”sheasks.
“Thekindthatlikedtocallhimselfmydad.”
Hereyeswiden.“Mydaddyismean,too.”
“Iknow,”Lorenzosays.“I’mgladheneverhurtyoulikeIgothurt.Itriedtomakeitsohecouldn’t.”
Sheprocessesthat,herbrowfurrowing,beforeshesays,“Willyourfacegetallbetter?”
Heshakeshishead.“It’sstucklikethis.”
“Doesithurt?”
IseeLorenzo’scheektwitch.
Ithinkmaybehe’sdoneentertainingquestions,butheanswersbeforeIcanchimein.
“Sometimes,”headmits.“Theeyehurts.Itdoesn’treallyworkanymore.”
“Itgotbroken?”
“Yes.”
I’mnotsureifsheunderstandstheconcept,sincehiseyeisstillthere.Itstillblinksandmoves,lookingprettynormalexceptforthelightercoloring.
Shefrowns,butitonlylastsforamomentbeforeherexpressionbrightens.Sheholdsupherbear,asifhe’sneverseenitbefore.“MaybeyoucangiveyourselfsurgerylikeBuster!Hiseyegotbroken,too.”
“Ithinkthat’senoughfornow,sunshine,”Isay,squeezingherinahugbeforestandingbackup.“Goaheadtothekitchenandfindsomethingtodrink.Youcanhaveanythingbuttherum.”
Leolaughsfromthehallway.
ShestartstoleavewhenLorenzoclearshisthroat.
“It’snicetomeetyou,Sasha,”hesays.
“You,too,Mommy’sfriend,”shecallsbackassherunsoutofthelibrary.
Sasha.HecalledherSasha.
Heusedhername.
Myeyessting.Icanfeelthetearswellingup.There’salumpinmythroatthat’sgettingharderandhardertoswallowdown.
Assoonasshe’sgone,Lorenzolooksatme.“Isweartofuck,Scarlet,ifyoustartcryingrightnow,I’mgoingtothrowyououtofmygoddamnhouse.”
“I’msorry,Ijust—”
“Don’tapologizetome.”
“Ugh,okay.I’mnot.”Itrytoshakeitoff,clearingmythroat.“Thatwasjustreallyniceofyou.Ididn’texpectyoutobeso…”
“Nice?”heguesses.“I’mnotanasshole,youknow.Well,Iam,butnotthatmuchofone.Iwasakidonce.Irememberwhatitwaslikewhenadultswereassholes.I’mnotgoingtodothattoher.Besides,she’syours,soIdidn’treallyexpecthertomakethisshiteasyforme.Hermothersureasfuckdoesn’t.”
No,IguessIdon’t.
Pausing,Ireachup,pressingmypalmtohischeekagain.Hegrimacesbutdoesn’tmove,doesn’tpullaway,althoughIcantellpartofhimwantsto.“Doyou,uh…?”
“DoIwhat?”
“DoyouatleastlikeTheForceAwakens?”
Hestaresatme.“Ihaven’tseenit.”
“Wait,what?Howcanyoucallyourselfafanifyouhaven’tevenseenthenewmovie?”
“I’vebeenabitbusylately,”hesays.“Dealingwithyouhastakenupalotofmyfreetime.”
“Oh,whatever.That’sbullshit.Youhadenoughfreetimetoputtogetheragazillionpiecepuzzle.You’vegottimetowatchamovie,andyouknowit.I’mjust…I’mashamedofyou.Legitimatelyashamed.”
“I’mguessingit’sgood,then?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow.”Ishrug.“Ihaven’twatchedit.Beentoobusy.”
Lorenzopullsmyhandawayfromhisfaceandlaughs.
GenuinelylaughsChapterTwenty-Four
ThesevendeadlysinsandIareonafirst-namebasis.
Gluttony.Idon’tdenymyselfanything.
Greed.Iwantitall,everythingthereis.
Pride.I’mfullofit,everyinchofme.
Sloth.I’malazysonofabitch.
Wrath.I’vegotanitchytriggerfinger.
Lust.Prettysurethisonegoeswithoutquestion.
Lastbutnotleast,theonetheycall‘envy’.Idon’tfindmyselffeelingjealousveryoften,notanymore,butasIstandinthedoorwaytomylivingroom,staringatthelittlegirlasleeponmycouch,Ifeelatwingeofit.Atbarelythree-feettall,notevenfortypounds,she’stiny,butsomethingaboutherjustfillstheroom,likeherpersonalitycan’tfitinthatminusculebody.
She’sjustlikehermother.It’seerie
Iknowwhatyou’reprobablythinking:thisdumbsonofabitchisjealousofafive-year-old.Andyou’dberight.ButI’mnotjealousforthereasonsyou’rethinking,soknockthatshitrightoutofyourmind.It’sgotnothingtodowithScarlet.
I’mjealousbecausethekid’sasleep.
Notjustdozed-off,daintysleep,either.I’mtalkingsprawledoutonherback,hanginghalfwayoffthecouch,mouthwideopen,snoringanddroolingkindofsleep,thekindwhereyoucanshakeherandshe’snotwakingup.
Thekidispracticallycomatose.
I’veneversleptlikethatinmylife.
JustonenightofthatsleepwouldprobablycuremeofeveryproblemIhave.I’dwakeupthenextmorningfeelinglikeMr.Rogers,welcomingmotherfuckerstomyneighborhood.
“Ishouldprobablygetgoing,”Scarletsays.“Gethertobed…it’sbeenalongday.”
“No,stay!”Melodysaysrightaway.“Imean,Iknowit’snotmyhouseoranything,butit’ssolate,andshe’salreadyasleep…there’snoreasontodragheroutofhererightnow,right?”ShelookstoLeo.“Right?”
Leoshrugs.“It’snotmyhouse,either.”
TheybothlooktomeasifI’mgoingtocontradictthat,asifI’mgoingtokickthemoutontheirasses.
“Youknowyoucanstay,”ItellScarlet.“Micasaes…everybody’sfuckingcasa.”
“Shecansleepinmyroom,”Leosays.“MelandIcantakethecouchtonight.”
“Don’tberidiculous,”Scarletsays.“I’mnottakingyourbedfromyou.Wecanjustcrashrighthere.”
“Besides,who-fucking-knowswhatthetwoofyouhavedoneonthatbed,whatkindof‘monkeysee,monkeydo’shityouplaywhenyougetnaked,”Isay.“Itwouldtakeusuntilsunrisetosanitizethemattresstomakeitsafeforhertosleepon.”
Leoshootsmealook.“Areyoukiddingme?She’sasleeponacouchyousupposedlystolefromastripclub.”
“OnethatIthoroughlysanitized.”
“YousprayeditwithLysol.”
“Whichkills99.9%ofgerms.”
“Prettydamnsuresyphilisfallsintothat.1%,bro.”
“Whatthehelldoyouknowaboutsyphilis?”
“Itookahealthclass.”
“Thatbetterbeallyoutookwhenitcomestosyphilis.”
“Guys,”Scarletsays,cuttingin,physicallysteppinginfrontofmebeforeIcanquestionhimmore.“Seriously,I’mfinerighthere.”
“I’lltakethecouch,”Isay,lookingatScarlet.“Youcantakemyroom.”
“But—”
“Enoughwiththefuckingbuts,”Itellher.“Mybed’sbig,it’scomfortable,you’vesleptinitdozensoftimesbefore.Besides,it’snotlikeI’mactuallygoingtobedoinganysleeping.Sojust…takehertomyroom.”
Shescowlsbutdoesn’targue,walkingovertopickupherdaughter.Thekidsleepsrightthroughit,notevenopeninghereyesasScarletcarriesherfromtheroomandtakesherupstairs.
Istrollintothelivingroom,towardthecouch.
“Ican’tgetoverhowstinkin’cutesheis,”MelodysaysasIapproach.“Like,whoa,shelooksjustlikeMorgan.That’sgottobeamind-fuckforher.”
“Right?”Leogrins,lookingathisgirlfriend.“CanyouimaginealittleMelrunningaround?”
Assoonasmybrothersaysthat,Ireachover,smackinghimonthesideofthehead.“Don’tgetanyideas.Youbetterbewrappingiteverysingletime.”
Hewinces,grabbinghishead.“Jesus,bro…Iam.”
“Good.I’mnotreadyforyoutomakemeanuncle.”
“Aw,UncleLorenzo,”Leosayswithalaugh.“Youknow,you’realwaystalkingabouthowyouraisedme,whichwouldkindofmakeyouGrandpa,wouldn’tit?”
Iglareathim,shovinghimovertositdownonthecouch.“Getthefuckoutofmyface,PrettyBoy,beforeIlockyouinatoweruntilyouturnthirty-five.”
Rollinghiseyes,hestandsup,grabbingMelody’shandtoleadherout.“Comeon,Mel…letsgodefilethismattressofourssomemore.”
Igroanasheflicksthelightswitch,turningthelightsoffonmeonhiswayout.“Isweartofuck…wrapituporI’llripitoff.”
“Noted,”Leohollersback.“Goodnight,bro.”
Goodnight
Sighing,Ilaydownonthecouch,notbotheringtoeventakemybootsoff.There’snoceilingfaninhere,afactI’mjustnownoticing.I’mnotevensurehowtoforcemyselftofallasleepanymorewithoutincessantlywatchingthefanbladesgoroundandroundandrounduntilIpassout.
Fuck
Ilayhereforwhatfeelslikeforever,analyzingtheplainwhiteceilinginthedarkness.Tick-tock.Tick-tock.Tick-tock.I’mgoingoutofmyfuckingmind.
Digginginmypocket,Igrabmytin,pullingoutafreshly-rolledjointandlightingit.Droppingthetinandthematchesontothecoffeetable,Ilaythereonmyback,coveringmyeyeswithmyleftforearmandsmokinginsilence.
Ihearthefloorcreakafterawhileandmovemyarm,peekingover,mygazeinstantlymeetingScarlet’sintheshadows.BeforeIcanevengreether,sheclimbsontothecouch,sittingrightontopofmeandstraddlingmywaist.Wordlessly,Iholdoutthejoint,andshegrabsit,nohesitation,takingadeepdrag,drawingthesmokeintoherlungsbeforepassingitrightback.Iwatchherinthesliverofmoonlightfilteringthroughthenearbywindow,watchasshetiltsherheadbackandcloseshereyes,slowlyexhaling.She’swearingonlyapairofblackunderwearandatoo-bigblackt-shirt.Myshirt,Irealize,straightoutofmycloset.
“Stealingfrommeagain?”Iask,myfreehandslippingbeneaththeshirtandcomingtorestonherslimwaist.
Shesmiles,lookingdownatme.“Justborrowingit.”
“Didyouask?”
“CanIwearit?”
“Fuckno.”
ShelaughsasItuckwhat’sleftofthejointbetweenmylipstograbtheshirt.Herhandsgoup,lettingmepullitoffandtossitontothecoffeetable.
Nobra
Reachingup,Ipalmhertits,squeezingthem,tweakinghernipples,watchingastheyperkup,growinghardundermytouch.Shesnatchesthejointrightfrommylips,smokingthelittlebitthat’sleft.
Aftercaressingherchest,myhandstraildownherstomach,myfingertipstracingthescarbeneathherbellybutton.
“Hedidn’twanttotakemetothehospital,”shesaysquietly,discardingtheremnantsofthejoint.
Imeethergaze,raisinganeyebrowcuriously.
“Hesaidwomengavebirthathomeallthetime,thatI’dbefine,thatIdidn’tneedadoctor—Ijustneededtobeawoman.SoIgavebirthonamattressinthebasementofLimerence…there,notathome,becausehedidn’twanttohavetolistentomyscreams.”
Soundproof
“Youdiditalone?”
“Someofthegirlswereallowedtocheckonme,butforthemostpart…”Shetrailsoff,asoftsmileonherlips.“IwasbymyselfwhenIhadher.Hecamedownafteritwasover.Tookher,cleanedherup.”
Sheavertshereyes.Icantellthere’smoretothestory.Hell,Iknowthereis.Myfingersgrazealongthescaragain.“Sowheredidthiscomefrom?”
“Hetookmetoahospitalafterward,”shesays.“Markelconvincedhimto.Iwassick,hemorrhagingblood.Iendedupneedingahysterectomy.That’swhenthey,youknow—”
“Iknow,”Isaybeforeshehastoexplain.
Shecan’thavekidsanymore.
Makessensewhyshetoldmeshecouldn’tgetpregnant.Itookheratherword,prettysureonlyafoolwouldriskmakingababywithme,butIfiguredshejustputherselfonsomepotentbirthcontrol,giventhelifeshewasliving.Nevercrossedmymindtothinkshemight’vehadthatchoicerippedawayfromherwhenshewasstilljustateenager.
HestolemorefromherthanIrealized.
“I’msorry,”Isayquietly,thosewordsfrommylipsbeforeIeventhinkaboutwhatthehellI’msaying.
Hereyesinstantlymeetmine.“Didyoujust—?”
“Apologize,”Isay,lettingoutalaugh.“Sureasfucksoundedlikeit,huh?”
Shesmilesassheleansoverme,pausingwithherlipsjustshyofmine.“Thankyou.”
Shekissesme,slowatfirst,soft,beforeherlipsgrowfrenzied.Myhanddriftslower,slidingbetweenus.Istrokeherpussythroughthethinfabricseparatingusbeforemyhandslipsbeneathit.SheletsoutasoftmoanasIrubherclit,closinghereyesandshiftingherhips.
Fuck,she’ssowet…sowarm…sosoft.Igrowrockhardasshegrindsagainstmeformorefriction,takingwhatshewants.Breakingthekiss,shepullsaway,tiltingherheadback.Herpalmspressagainstmychestasshepracticallyfucksmyfingertips,myfreehandcaressinghersidebeforegraspingherass,squeezingit.
Herbreathinggetsheavier,turningintopantsandmoans.Itdoesn’ttakelongatall,aminuteorso,beforeherbreathhitches,herfingernailsdiggingintomyskin,clawingatmychest.
“Fuck,”IgroanasIwatchhercome,hermusclestwitching,jawgoingslack,chestrisingandfallingfast.Myfreehandmovesyetagain,roaming,caressing,myfingertipsswipingalongherpartedlipsasImumble,“You’resogoddamnbeautiful.”
Hereyesopen,andshelooksdownatme,leaningcloser,hervoiceshakyasshesays,“It’sbeensolongsincesomebodysaidthatandIactuallyfeltit.”
ShekissesmeagainbeforeIcanrespond,deeply,feverishly,asIreachbetweenus,undoingmypants.Ipullmycockout,strokingit,givingheramoment,beforepushingthefabricseparatingusaside.
Nohesitation,sheslidesrightdownontome.
Shemovesslowly,andIdon’tpushher,don’trushher,don’tflipheroverandshoveherfaceintothecouchandfuckher—although,comeon,youknowpartofmewantsto.No,Ilethertakehertime,letherdothishowshewants,howsheneeds.Shewasn’tjusttormentedemotionally—herbodyhasbeenthroughhell.Remnantsofbruisesstillpepperherpaleskin,fadingbutvisible.SoIjustlayhere,myhandsgentleastheyexplore,runningthroughherhair,grippingit,holdingon.
Icanfeelitbuildinginsideofme,twisting,tightening,asIkissherbreathlessly,mylipsneverleavinghers.Mychestfuckingachesatthesensation.
“Fuck,I’mgoingtocome,”Igroanintohermouth,myhandsslidingdownherback,graspingherassasIbuckmyhips.Iknow,Iknow…takeiteasy,asshole.Ijustcan’thelpmyself.Islamintoherafewtimes,hercriesechoingthroughthelivingroom,asIletoutafuckinggrowl,pleasureripplingthroughme.“Fuck.”
AssoonIstopmoving,Scarletlaysdownontopofme,nuzzlingintomyneck,herbreastspressingagainstmychest.Iwrapmyarmsaroundher,strokingherback,stillballsdeepinsideherpussy.
It’sastrangesensation.
Cuddling.
We’refuckingcuddling
Whatthehellhappenedtomylife?
Scarletreachesup,herfingertipsgrazingalongmyjawline,strokingthescruffIneedtoshave.
Itdoesn’tlastlongbeforeitgrowsuncomfortable.
She’scoveredinbodyfluids—hersandmine.
“Ugh,I’mallsticky,”shegrumbles,liftingupsoIfinallypullout.Imissherwarmthrightaway,asshegetstoherfeetandpausesinfrontofme.Shesnatchestheshirtupoffofthecoffeetable,tuggingitbackonasIeyeherinthemoonlight,seeingherthighsareslickwithjuices.
Shestaresdownatme,andIcantellshehasquestions.She’sgoingtowantdetailsoneverythingthathappened.It’sinevitable,Iknow…I’llhavetotellheraboutthedeadgirlinthebasement,havetotellherwhatIdidtotheRussians,havetotellheraboutSeven,butI’mnotinthemood.Andmaybethat’sselfish,maybeitmakesmeallergictofeelings,butI’dmuchratherusemymouthforsomethingotherthantalkingrightnow.
SheyelpsasItughertome,myhandsonherwaist.Duckingmyhead,Itracemytongueupherinnerthigh,tastingher,lickingitoff.Shewhimpers,grabbingaholdofmyhair,“Ohgod.”
Goahead,cringeifyoumust.Scoffandsayno,nada,notdoingit,nope.Dowhateveryouwant,Idon’tcare,butme?I’mnotafraidofbodyfluids.I’lldrinkeverylastfuckingdropshehastogive.
Shestandsthere,grippingontomeasInuzzleintoherpussy,licking,suckingherrightthroughherunderwear,butthepositiongetsawkwardrealfuckingquick,Igetakinkinmyneck,soit’seitherstopor—
“Fuckit,”Igroan.“Comehere.”
ShesquealsasIpullherbackontothecouch,yankingherup,bringingherpussyrighttomymouthasIlaydownflat.Shelaughs,bracingherselfthere,straddlingmyface,asItongue-fuckherrighttoorgasm.
“Ohfuck,Lorenzo,”shewhimpers,archingherbackasshecomes,grindingagainstmymouth,noshameatall.Shewillridemyfaceifitmeansshegetsoff,andfuckifthatdoesn’tturnmeon.
Shestallswhenthepleasurefades,lookingdownatme,herfaceflushing.Sheblushes
Filthyfuckingwomanhasthenervetolookinnocent.
Ipushheroff,sittingup,andshelaughsasshefallsoverontothecouch.BeforeIcanpullmyselftogether,there’sanoiseaboveusonthesecondfloor,somewhereinthevicinityofmybedroom.Shit.Scarletgetstoherfeet,quicklyleaningoverandkissingme…justapeckonthecornerofmymouth.“I’vegottagetbacktobed.”
“Seriously?”Icalloutasshestartstoleave,justlikethat.“Youjustfuckmyfaceandrun?”
“Yep.”
Ihearherlaughteragainandthenshe’sgone.
Idesperatelyneedashower,butthat’soutofthequestion,soIinsteadwanderintothekitchen,doingwhatIcanwithwhatI’vegottocleanmyselfup.Afterward,Idropbackdownontothecouch,staringupattheblankceilingagain,myeyesheavy.
Finallytired
***
Youknowthatfeelingyougetwheneveryou’rebeingwatched?Thatskin-crawling,naggingsensation,likeyoucanfeeltheirgazeasitpenetratesyou,slidingalongyourinsides.Hairstandsonend.Goosebumpsspringup.It’seerie.Youknowsomebody’sthere.Youcanfeelitintheair.
That’swhatIwakeupto,thesensationsostrongitforcesmeconscious.Myheartraces,myfingertipstinglingfromtherushofadrenaline,asmymindstartsscreaming‘attack,motherfucker,attack.’
Myeyessnapopen.
Thesecondtheydo,Iseesomeoneelse’seyes.
Curiouslittlebrowneyes.
Rightfuckingthere
Ishoveup,startled,sittingupsodamnfastIgetdizzy.Everythinggoesblackforasecondbeforecomingback.Blinking,Ilookather,thelittleScarletLetterjuststandingthereafootinfrontofthecouch.
Sasha.
“Jesus,”Igrumble,scrubbingmyhandsovermyface,tryingtowakethehellup.She’sstandingthere,staringatme,likeit’sthegoddamnChildrenoftheCornupinhere.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“I’mhungry.”
Shesaysthatshitsomatteroffact,likethat’saperfectreasontobestaringatmeatwhatevero’clock.Theroomisdim,likethesunisn’tevenfullyshiningyet.“Whattimeisit?”
Sheshrugs.
Doesn’tevenlookforaclock.
Hell,canshereadaclock?
Sighing,Isearchthroughmypockets,notfindingmuch,suddenlyawareI’vegotdrugparaphernaliasittingjusttotheleftofthekid,splayedoutonthetable.Isnatchitup,shovingitaway.
We’reofftoagreatstart.
“Where’syourmother?”Iask,lookingaround.
“Sleeping.”
“Sleeping,”Isay.“Andyou’rejust,what…roamingaroundmyhouse?Why?”
“I’mhungry,”shesaysagain.
“Soyoustareatmeinsteadofeatingsomething?Whatkindofsensedoesthatshitmake?”
Sheshrugs.Again
Iblinkather,thinkingmaybeifIwaitshe’llfigureoutwhatshe’sdoing,butwe’retalkingaboutScarlet’skid.Should’veknownbetter.She’dprobablystandhereallgoddamndaywaitingformetogetmyshittogetherandmakesenseofthingsforher.
“I,uh…okay.Youwantsomefood?”
“Yes,please.”
Please
Shewhippedoutthemannersonme.
Whocansaynotothat?
Well,hell,Ieasilycould,butI’mnotgoingto.
Ishovetomyfeet,stretchingbeforestrollingoutofthelivingroom,headingdownthehallwaytothekitchen.Thekidfollowsme,rightonmyheels,marchingalonglikewe’repartofagoddamnparadeorsomething.
It’swaytooearlyforthisshit.
5:27a.m.
That’swhattheclockinthekitchentellsmewhenIglanceatit.
“Whatareyouhungryfor?Whatdoyouwant?”
Idon’thavetolookathertoknowshe’sshrugging.Hersilencegivesthataway.Iglancearoundthepantry,scowling.Seeingasmybrotherismovingoutinamatterofdays,hehasn’tbotheredgoingtothestore,whichmeanswe’rerunningshortonshitthat’sconvenient,unlessthekidlikesraisins.
“Youlikeraisins?”Iask,glancingbehindmeasIholdupabagoftrailmix,mostofthemixpartgone,leavinghalfabagofprettymuchjustraisinsatthispoint.Sashaslidesupontoachairatthekitchentable,sodamnshortherlegsdangle,andmakesafaceatmyquestion,clearlynotafan.“Yeah…me,neither.”
Ilookatthebagagainbeforetossingitinthetrashcan.
“Youdon’thaveanyallergies,doyou?”Iask,realizingIshould’veprobablyaskedthatfirst.
“What’sthat?”
“Allergies,youknow…somepeopleareallergictopeanuts,whichmeanspeanutscankillthem,sotheycan’teatthem.Yougotanythinglikethat?Anythingthatcankillyou?”
“Lots.”
Shit.“Really?Likewhat?”
“Guns.”
Ilookather,browfurrowing.“Guns?”
“Gunscankillpeople.”
Thelittlewalking,talkingPSAstaresatme,notbeingasmartassaboutthatatall,simplyansweringmyquestion.Ialmostforgotwhatitwaslikedealingwithakid.Almost
“Allergictoguns…gotit,”Imutter,movingontothefridge.“Nofoodsthatcankillyou?”
Shehesitatesbeforesaying,“Porridge.”
“Porridge?”Whatthehell?“Whatkindofporridge?”
Again,shehesitates,beforesaying,“Allthekinds.”
Iglanceather,eyesnarrowed.“You’retellingmeporridgewillkillyouifyoueatit?”
Shenodsadamantly.
I’mprettysureshe’sbullshitting,butIcan’tcallherbluff.She’sonlyfive,forfuck’ssake.IfItrytomakehereatsome,toproveshe’slying,Imightaccidentallykillher,andwecan’tbehavingthat.
Besides,it’snotlikeIhavetheshitaroundheretomakeporridge.WhatdoIlooklike,OliverTwist?
“Noporridge,then.Iwon’teverfeedyouit.”
Shegrins,asmuglittlesmile.Manipulativelittleshit
“Okay,look,kid…I’llbestraightwithyou.We’vegotbologna,we’vegotfishsticks,andwe’vegotabunchofshittomaybemakeasaladinhere.”
Shemakesanotherface.
Doesn’tsoundgoodtome,either.
“Youdon’thavebreakfast?”sheasks.“LuckyCharms?”
“No,butIcanprobablymakepancakes.”
Hereyeswiden,herexpressionbrightening.
Ding,ding,ding
“Pancakes,itis,”Isay,gatheringwhatIneed.Truthbetold,IcouldmakepancakesinmysleepwithhowoftenI’vemadethesethingsforLeo.
SashakicksherlegsimpatientlyasIwhipupthebatter,herheelsbangingagainstthelegsofthechair.
“Youwantsomekindofsomethinginthesepancakes?We’vegot…”Iglancearound.Shit.“Lookslikewehavesomechocolatechips.”
Shegasps.“CanI?Please?”
“Yeah,”Isay,grabbingthebagofchocolatechips,dumpingthewholefuckingthinginthebatter.
AsIwaitforthepantoheatup,Igrabatangerine.
“CanIhavesomeofthat,too?”sheasks,watchingme.
Igrabanothertangerineandwalkover,rollingittoheronthetable.Shepicksitup,eyeingitwarily,clutchingittightlyashergazeturnsbacktome.Ipeelmytangerine,tossingthescrapsonthecounter,andpulloutasegmenttoeatasthepancakesstarttocook.
“Ugh,howdoyoudothis?”shegrumbles.
Ilookatherassheclawsatthetangerine,pokingahole,herfingergoingrightthroughitasjuicedripsoutontothetable.“Neverpeeledatangerinebefore?”
“Idon’tknow,”shesays,frustrated.“Ijustwannaopentheorange.”
Laughingundermybreath,Iwalkoveragain,takingthetangerineandstartingtopeelit,showingherhowtodoitsoshecanfinishtherest.“It’satangerine,notanorange.”
“It’snotanorange?”
“It’smoreofamandarin,”Itellher.“They’reallcitrusfruit,buttangerinesaresmallerthananormalorange.”
Sheglaresatit,lookingskeptical.“Howdoesittaste?”
“Likeanorange.”
Shegivesmealookthatsays,‘Areyoufuckingkiddingme?Whatwasyourpoint?’
I’msopreoccupiedwiththetangerinethatIburnthefirstpancake,havingtotossitout.Ifocusafterthat,stilltryingtowakeup,stackingupnearlyadozenpancakesonaplatter.Assoonasthey’refinished,Igrabsomeplatesandturnaround,freezingwhenIlookatSasha.
Thekid’safuckingmess.
Juicedripsfromherchin,smearedonherface,evensomehowfindingitswayintoherunbrushedhair.Tangerinecoversthetableinfrontofher,clingingtohershirt,likeshefuckingbathedinthejuice.Shelicksherfingers,notatallbothered,hereyeslightingupwhensheseesthepancakes.Islapafewonaplateinfrontofher,ignoringthetangerineasIgiveherafork.
Sittingdownacrossthetable,Ihandherabottleofsyrup,watchingasshedrownsthepancakesinitanddivesrightin.Ieatsome,justfoldingthefuckersoverliketacos,notbotheringwithsilverware.
IfIthoughtshewasamessbefore,it’sgotnothingonhernow.Messontopofmessontopofmess.Stickysyrupandmeltedchocolatecoverher—onherhands,onherface,onherclothes.Iwatchincredulouslyasshedropsherforkandjumpsdownoutofthechair,lickingherfingersoncemore.Mygazefollowsherassheheadsstraightforthefridge,leavingachocolatecoveredhandprintonthedoorhandleassheopensit.
Shedoesn’tsayshit.Notagoddamnword.
Shereachesrightinside,helpingherselftoaCapriSun.
“Givemeoneofthose,”Isay,holdingmyhandout,astickyjuicepouchlandinginmypalm.
“You’rewelcome,”shesaysrightaway,eventhoughIhadn’tthankedher,andIalmostfeelatwingeofguiltoverthat—overforgettingmymanners—untilitstrikesmeshehadn’tthankedmeforthefuckingpancakes.
Yeah,IknowI’mpetty.
Youdon’thavetotellme.
Pullingthelittlestrawoffthebackofthepouch,Itaketheplasticoffandaimforthehole.
Imiss.
Everyfuckingtime
Istabtheair,Istabthepouch,Istabmyself.I’mabouttolosemycoolandthrowthefuckingthingwhenIhearSashalaugh.Mygazedartstoher.She’ssippingherdrink.Shegotherstrawinthehole,noproblem.
“Icandoit,”shesays,launchingherselfacrossthetable,grabbingthestrawfromme.Isurrenderit,pushingthejuicepouchather.Sheshovesthestrawrightinbeforegivingitback.“Thereyougo!”
MygazeflickersbetweenherandtheCapriSun.“Thanks,shortcake.”
Shesmileswidely,hervoicesoftasshesays,“You’rewelcome.”
“Ohmygod.”
Avoicecutsthroughtheroom,comingfromthedoorway,catchingbothofusoffguard.Scarletstandsthere,wideeyeswatchingus.
“Mommy,Iatechocolateinpancakes!”Sashasays,turningtowardher,nearlyfallingoutofthedamnchairasshetriestoshiftoutoftheway,toshowhermotherherbreakfast.
“Iseethat,”Scarletsays,strollingcloser,graspingthebackofthechairasshelooksherdaughterover.“Lookslikeyou’rewearingit,too.”
Browfurrowing,Sashalooksdown,likeshecan’tfathomwhatthehellhermother’stalkingabout.Pluckingoffapieceofpancakethat’sstucktohershirtwithsyrup,shepopsitrightintohermouth.Scarletlaughswithdisbelief,haulingheroutofthechairandontoherfeet.“Whydon’tyougofindabathroomandwashup?”
Sashadoesn’targue,trudgingoutofthekitchen.Onceshe’sgone,Scarletslipsintothechairacrossfromme.Icantellshehasshitshewantstosay,soIjustsithere,waitingherout,sippingfrommyjuicepouch,knowingshe’llgettoiteventually.
Hervoiceisquietwhenshefinallyspeaks.“Whatareyoudoing,Lorenzo?”
Iglancedownatmyself,justasconfusedbythatasSashahadbeenaboutwearingherbreakfast.WhatdoesitlooklikeI’mdoing?“Sittinghere.”
“No,Iknowthat,Ijustmean…whatareyougoingtodonow?”
“Probablykeepsittinghereforawhile.”
Shesmilessoftly.“What’syourplan?”
“Fortoday?”
“Foreveryday.”
“Foreveryday,”Irepeat,notsurehowtoanswerthat.“I’veneverbeengoodatmakingplans,Scarlet…evenworseatkeepingthem.Ikindofjustgetupandgoandhopeforthebest.”
“Anyideawhereyoumightbegoing?”
“Depends.”
“Onwhat?”
“Onhowlongittakesyoutoquitbeatingaroundthefuckingbushandtellmewhatitisyouwant,”Isay.“Becausetherateyou’regoing,Imightnotevermakeitoutofthischair.”
Shemakesafaceatme,likeI’mbeingapainintheass,butI’mnotamindreader.I’mnotinthebusinessofmakingassumptions,sowhileIcouldguesswhatshe’sgettingat,Ineedhertojustbestraight.
Forhersake.
Formysanity
Becausethere’sakidoffsomewhereinmyhouse,probablyfloodingmyfuckingbathroom,andsheneedsustobeonthesamepageaboutthis.Ifthere’sgoingtobea‘we’,it’snotjust‘her’and‘me’,sincethere’salsoalittle‘she’thathastobefactoredinsomehow.
Alittle‘she’thatcomplicatesshitgreatly.
“I’mjusttryingtofigureoutwhereIfit,”Scarletsays.“Tryingtoseeifthere’sevenaplaceinyourlifeforme.”
“Foryouboth,youmean.”
Shenods.“Iknowthisisn’twhatyousignedupfor,Lorenzo.That’swhy,whenDeclangavemeyourmessage,Itriedtorespectit,andIstillwill.Iunderstandifwedon’tfitinyourlife.It’sokay.ButIjustneedtoknow.Becauseifwedon’tfithere,IhavetofigureoutwherewedoShe’sbeenthroughtoomuchforsomuchofherlifetobeuncertain.Shedeservestobelong.”
“Sodoyou,”Isay.
Scarletdoesn’treacttothat,juststaringatme,waitingforsomethingmore.
“Look,yourplaniswhatmattershere,”Itellher.“Don’ttrytosqueezeyourselfintosomebodyelse’slife,likeyou’rejustaguestintheiruniverse.Becauseyeah,that’sfitting,butthat’snotbelonging.Icouldfitmycockinamillionholes,butthatdoesn’tmeanmycockhasanybusinessbeinginanyofthem.Sowhydon’tyoutellmewhatyouruniverselookslike,Morgan…whatlifelookslikeforyouandSasha…andthenwe’lldecideifIbelongthere.”
Shestaresatmeforanothermoment,likemaybeshedoesn’tknowwhattothink,beforefinally,shesays,“Ijustneedittobeaplacewherewecanbeourselves—whereshecanbewhosheis,andIcanjustbeme.Idon’tcareifthere’sapicketfence.Idon’tneedaboytoturnintoastupidbird.Ijust…Iwanttobehappy.”
“Whatmakesyouhappy?”
“Youdo,”shesaysquietly.
Ithinkaboutthat,thosewordsbouncingaroundinmyskull.“HowdoyoufeelaboutFlorida?”
“Florida?”
“Nothingpermanent,justmaybegetawayforawhile,youknow,decompress.Theguyscanhandlebusinesshere.It’llgivemybrotherachancetodohisownthingwithoutmelookingoverhisshoulderandbreathingdownhisneck,andit’llgiveusachancetotestthewatersabit.”
“Florida,huh?”
Inod.“Florida.”
Scarlet’squietforamoment,staringoffintospace,beforeSashacomesrunningbackintothekitchen,notmuchcleanerthanshehadbeen.
“Hey,sunshine,”Scarletsays,grabbingthegirl,pullinghertowardher.“HowdoyoufeelaboutFlorida?”
“Whatdoesithave?”
“Uh,sunnyskies.”Scarletglancesatme.“Alligators,maybe?Helpmeouthere.”
“Beaches,”Isay.“Oranges.”
“Alotoforanges,”Scarletsays.“Oh,andDisneyWorldisinFlorida,too.”
Sasha’seyeswiden.“Canwego,Mommy?Please?”
“Ifyouwanttogo,sure.”
Agrinlightsupherfaceassheleansover,cuppingherhandsaroundScarlet’sear,whisperingsomethingtoher.
WhateveritismakesScarlet’ssmilegrow,alaughescapingasshesays,“Ofcourse.”
Thekidletsoutasquealassherunsaway,literallyrunninginmyhouse,yelling,“I’mgonnatellBuster!”
She’sgoneinablink.
IstareatScarletinsilenceforamomentbeforecuriositygetsthebestofme.“Whatdidshesay?”
“ShewantedtoknowifMommy’sfriendcouldcomewithustoFlorida,”shesays.“Shelikesthewayhemakeshispancakesandshethinksit’sfunnythathedoesn’ttiehisshoelaces.”
Browfurrowing,IglancedownatthelooselacesofthecombatbootsI’mwearing,theonesIneverbotheredtotakeoffatbedtime,beforeImeetScarlet’sgazeagain.She’sstillsmiling,radiatinghappiness.Warmth
“Whenshecomesback,youtellherIsaidshe’snothalf-badherself.”ChapterTwenty-Five
“Wakeup,sunshine,”avoicecalledoutinaraspywhisperasthelittlegirlwasshaken,rousedfromadeep,dreamlesssleep.
Thelittlegirlpeekedherblearyeyesopen,blinkingafewtimesasshegazedatthefacebesideher.“Mommy?”
Hermothersmiled—abig,widekindofsmile.Itwasn’tthekindofsmilethelittlegirlsaweveryday.Thissmileglowedwithhappiness,almostvibratingwithexcitement,ashermotherwhispered,“We’rehere.”
Here
Ittookthelittlegirlamomenttogetit,amomenttounderstandwhathermothermeant,torememberwhere‘here’wassupposedtobe.Shesatupstraight,movingsofasttheseatbeltlockedinplace,trappingherinherboosterseat.Groaning,sheimpatientlytuggedattheseatbelt,lookingaroundoutsidethewindowsofthecar,butitwassodark,andallshecouldreallyseeweretheshadowsandthetrees.
Lotsandlotsandlotsoftrees.
Whoa,somanytrees.
“CanIseethemnow?”thelittlegirlasked.“CanIseeWoodyandBuzz?”
Hermotherlaughed,unclippingtheseatbeltsothelittlegirlcouldclimboutofthecar.Thegroundwashard,mostlydirt,withpatchesofgreengrassleadingtoabrownhouse.
“Nottonight,”hermothersaid,“butIpromise,afterwegetsettledin,we’llgoseethem.”
“Youtwohavefunwiththat,”anothervoicesaidasacardoorslammed.
Mommy’sfriend
Thelittlegirlthoughthemightbeherfriend,too,butshehadn’taskedhim.Hewasnicetoher,though.Hemadeherpancakeswhenevershewantedthemandneverevertriedtofeedherporridge,notevenonceintheweeksthatshe’dbeenaroundhim.ThelittlegirlandhermotherhadstayedathishousewithhimbackinthecitybeforeeverythingwasputinboxesandtheygotintohiscartodrivethewholewaytoFlorida.
‘Home…fornow,’hermotherkeptcallingit.Shesaidifthelittlegirldidn’tliketheplace,ifitdidn’tmakeherhappy,theywouldn’tstaylong,butwithWoodyandBuzzbeingnearby,howcouldshenotlikeit?
Itwaslikeadreamcometrue.
“Oh,comeon,”thelittlegirl’smothersaid.“Youknowyouwanttogo,too.Imean,it’sfreakin’DisneyWorld.Whodoesn’twanttogototheHappiestPlaceonEarth?”
Heraisedhishand.
Thelittlegirllaughed.
“TheyhaveStarWarsstuff,”hermothersaid.“Ridesandstormtroopersandsouvenirs.”
“AndWoodyandBuzzwillbethere,”thelittlegirltoldhim.“Youdon’twannaseethem?”
Helookedather,pausinginapatchofgrass.“I’llpass,shortcake,butthanks.Ihaveplentyaroundheretokeepmebusy.”
Thelittlegirlglancedaround.Theairsmelledsweet,andallthetreeswerefilledwithoranges.Itremindedherofanenchantedforest,liketheonesfromthefairytalestories.
Sheturnedbacktohim.“Likewhat?Whatareyougonnadohere?”
“Pickoranges,”hesaid.“Eatoranges.”
“Realoranges?Oryoumeanlikethemtangerines?”
“Both.”
“Oh.”
Itwasquietforamoment,astheystaredateachother,beforehisexpressioncrackedandhelaughed.Itwasn’tameanlaugh,no,soshedidn’tmindhislaughter.Hislaughsoundedhappy.
Heturnedtohermother,shakinghishead.“She’ssomuchlikeyou,it’sterrifying.”
“Startingtothinkyou’reinoveryourhead?”hermotherasked.
“PrettyfuckingpositiveI’msoinovermyheadthatnothingshortofdecapitationisgettingmebackoutofthisone.”
Hermotherlaughed,yetanotherhappysound,asshereachedforhimandwrappedherarmsaroundhisneck.Hekissedherthen,amessykiss,allsloppyandnoisyandwet.Thelittlegirlscruncheduphernose.Itkindoflookedliketheywantedtoeateachother’sfacesoff.
Itwasn’tatalllikethewaytheTinManhadkissedhermotherthatnightinthekitchen.
Maybethiswaslove,thelittlegirlthought.Maybelovemadeyoukissallmessy.Maybelovemadeyouhungryforfaces.Maybehelovedhermother,andmaybehermotherlovedhimback.MaybetheylovedeachotherlikethelittlegirllovedBuster.
“Buster,”shegasped.
Thesoundofhervoicemadethempullapart,breakingthekiss.Oops
“He’sinthecar,”hermothersaid,“rightwhereyoulefthim.”
Thelittlegirlrushedbackintothecar,snatchingupBusterandpullinghimout.Therewereotherpeoplearoundnow,approachingtogreetthem,peoplewhoworkedontheorangegroves.Hermotherhadtoldherallaboutthem.Notflyingmonkeys
“Comeon,sunshine,”hermothersaid,takingthelittlegirl’shand.“HowaboutwegooninsideandfindyouabedroomwhileLorenzotakescareofthings?”
Thelittlegirlsmiled.
Shelikedhowthatsounded.
Anewbedroom,inanewhouse,withhermotherandBuster…andeventheirnewfriend,LorenzoAcknowledgments
ShoutouttothemakersofCapriSunforthatsharpasslittleplasticstrawthatreallydoeshurtlikeabitchwhenyougetstabbedwithit.Toalltheorangegrowers,whoareprettydamnawesomeformakingOJpossible,eventhoughIhavethisweirdaversiontopulpthatLorenzowouldprobablykillmefor.ToGeorgeLucasforcreatingStarWars,andtoDisneyforresurrectingStarWars…andtobothfornotsuingmeforanythingIsayaboutStarWars(Iswear,IreallydolikeThePhantomMenace).
Acknowledgmentsarethehardestpartformetowrite.There’salwaysthiscripplingfearthatI’mgoingtoforgetsomeoneinstrumental,becausesomanypeoplearevitaltothewritingprocess,andI’mafraidthey’regoingtothinkI’manungratefultwat(whenreally,sometimesmybrainjustclocksout).Butforreal,youallknowwhoyouare.AbouttheAuthor
J.M.DarhoweristheUSATodayBestsellingAuthorofparanormal/erotic/romanticsuspensenovelsaboutthebaddestbadboysandtheladieswholovethem.Fangirlatheart,J.M.isobsessedwithbooks,music,andallthingsMarvel,especiallythegloriousSebastianStan.ShespendsherdaysinatinytowninNorthCarolina,churningoutwordsandchasingdownPokemon.
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