Spare Parts (Dark Romance) (Parts of Me Book 1)

Home > Other > Spare Parts (Dark Romance) (Parts of Me Book 1) > Page 6
Spare Parts (Dark Romance) (Parts of Me Book 1) Page 6

by J A Wynters

I didn’t finish the question because, as she turned around to face me, I saw her face—the split lip and swelling in her right eye.

  “Alice…”

  She sucked on her cigarette and blew out white smoke, “I’m sorry, kiddo. I really am. I tried to come, I tried to see you. But, you saw how they treated me.” I could see the tears as they pooled in her eyes. “You looked so damn handsome standing up there.” Her lip twitched.

  “Is that all they did?” My fists clenched by my side.

  “It’s ok, kiddo, I’ve had worse.”

  “Let me take you to a shelter tonight.”

  “No.”

  “Alice.”

  She took another long drag from her cigarette. “I went all that way to listen to you speak. Why don’t you tell me what you were going to say?” She leaned back against the bench and winced. I just stared at her. It wasn’t the first time I had seen her beaten, but it had been a while. She looked so much more fragile, so much more breakable. Or maybe my heart wasn’t strong enough, cold enough, hard enough yet.

  “Stop staring and read me your fucking speech.”

  I clenched my jaw but, as always, I relented. I pulled out my cue cards, even though I didn’t need them. I think I just needed something to look at other than her face. I got to say my speech that day in front of my mom. It wasn’t the setting I was after, but it felt good. When I was done, I turned back to her. Her face was streaked with tears and I want to believe it was because of my words.

  'The Hand' was not an uncommon name for men in Tony’s line of work. They usually received the title for violent acts involving hands—like breaking hands or ripping them off, or using them to break your jaw or kneecaps. Not my Tony. No, he was called The Hand for his uncanny ability to force yours.

  If that is unclear, let me explain.

  Tony was a collector, not of things but of information. His mind was a vault and once a trickle of information managed to worm its way in there, it was in there forever. What Tony also knew is that without evidence or proof, much of his information was often useless So he had a real vault. Later, I would find it and all its contents and wish I never had. He kept evidence in it and, whether it was true or fabricated, that was Tony’s weapon against everyone. He had an ability to find your weak spot and break you at the knees, without touching a hair on your head.

  Today I was going to learn that lesson.

  I gave my school blazer to Alice, knowing she would either use it or sell it for her next fix. Either way, I had no more use for the thing. By the time I got to the shop, the sun was setting and it bathed the streets in a beautiful orange glow.. I felt its warmth on my face as I crossed the street. I should have been more aware, but I was basking—maybe in the sun, or maybe in the tender moment with Alice—but I didn’t notice that there wasn’t anyone waiting outside the shop, even though Tony’s car was still outside.

  The smart thing would have been to turn and run, to get on a bus, or hitch a ride and vanish off the face of the planet. But I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t even looking. I didn’t see the monster at the end of the tunnel because I didn’t realise I was walking into one.

  I pushed through the big, heavy, red door and let it slam behind me as I always did. It was probably the lights that finally got my attention. The front house lights were switched off, while the back lights were on like beacons.

  I froze. My heart leapt in my chest and I twisted around, my eyes scanning the darkness.

  Salvatore walked out of the shadows. Of course they sent him, a friendly face to keep the mouse in the trap, to keep it calm. A shepherd leading the little sheep to its slaughter. My throat closed up, breathing became almost as hard as swallowing.

  “He’s been waiting for you for hours, Gabriel.” He shook his head. “You know the boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Salvatore walked towards me and hooked an arm around my sagging shoulders.

  He stepped forwards forcing me to move. One foot at a time, I dragged my feet as my stomach rolled.

  Two of Tony’s men waited outside his office. They nodded at Salvatore and ignored me. Bile rose in my throat as I realised I was the walking dead.

  One of the men reached for the door handle and opened it for us. Salvatore led us inside.

  The two men shuffled inside and closed the door behind them. I was caged.

  Tony sat at his desk. A new, clean suit adorned his wide shape, and his piggy face was as calm and collected as I had ever seen it. I was fucked.

  “Good evening Gabriel, so good of you to join us at last.” He cocked his head. “Do take a seat.”

  His eyes followed me as I shuffled to the chair across from his desk and fell like dead weight into it. I sucked in a deep breath and met his eyes.

  “You missed your graduation.” His jaw clenched beneath chubby cheeks

  I remained silent.

  “I don’t like being made a fool of.”

  “I’m sorry Tony—”

  “Be quiet now Gabriel, the adults are talking.” He silenced me with his sharp tongue. “You know, you are an ungrateful little punk.” Tony pushed against his chair, and it scraped the floor with a screech. He pulled off his jacket and placed it neatly on the back of the chair. He unbuttoned his cufflinks and rolled each sleeve in turn to just below the elbow, revealing pasty white arms covered in long dark hair.

  He rounded the table, taking short measured steps. He came to a complete stop in front of me and, although I saw it coming, it caught me by surprise.

  I saw his arm as it swung across his chest and then swung back around. The back of his hand connected perfectly square across my cheek and, without warning, he swung back smacking the other side of my face. The slap of skin on skin echoed against the walls.

  My cheeks stung at first then heat rose like wildfire, getting hotter and hotter as it burned across my face. I could feel tears well in my eyes, but I pushed them back and straightened my spine. Tony smirked as I held his gaze.

  “Hold him.”

  Three pairs of hands yanked me from the chair and threw me across the table. Panic gripped me.

  “No.” I fought and thrashed against the men. I would not allow this again, the humiliation of it. But I was outnumbered and out powered.

  My heart smashed against my ribcage as I fought.

  “I said hold him!”

  The three men tightened their grips and pulled on my limbs. A heavy weight fell across my torso, and I was glued to the table. A hand pushed my head down, my cheek grinding against the polished wood.

  Hands moved around my waist, fiddling with the button of my pants.

  “No! No! Tony…” I was begging even as my ass felt the cool of air of the air conditioner.

  I flinched at the first crack. Memories flooding my brain. I clenched my teeth and sucked in the heavy air. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of crying. Tony’s belt connected with my skin over and over again. The deluge of pain felt endless until the searing fire grew warm and leaked across my back. The men had fallen silent and still, the belt licked and bit and punished. My body would not endure much more. I could feel my senses fading.

  “You!

  Will!

  Never!

  Walk!

  Out!

  On!

  Me!

  Again!

  Do you understand?” Which each word the belt cracked like thunder, harsh and brutal.

  I tried to nod but the hand on my head pushed against me.

  “Yes, Tony.” It came out like a whisper, weak and pathetic. I thought I was a man, until I was shown that I wasn’t. That would come later.

  “Good.” He threw his belt on the table an inch from my face and returned to his seat, falling into it heaving.

  The hand on my head pulled and twisted until I could see Tony.

  Crossing his hands across his mountainous belly, he looked at me in that way of his, a way I have seen him looking at others—like a predator that knows he has you cornered, though you don’t know it ye
t. Except, I knew it.

  I could feel the blood as it oozed off my back and pooled on the table, the very air burning my wounds. I have never felt so vulnerable.

  “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk business, shall we?” He had a smug smile on his face and I gritted my teeth. Resistance was futile.

  “Now that you are a graduate with a fucking diploma, I think it’s time for you to make some investments.” His hands tightened around himself. “I mean a boy like you, with nothing, can finally make something of himself. I’m sure you’d hate to end up like your mother.” His smile stretched and I flinched at the mention of her.

  “Leave Alice out of this.” I hissed.

  “But why? A boy like you, neglected, unloved? I can take care of her for you, bring her over, have the guys give her a once over. Maybe put her to rest once and for all.”

  He was watching me. He needed my reaction and like a fool, I gave it to him. I wasn’t ready to go against him yet.

  My knuckles turned white as I clenched my hands into tight fists. My locked jaw ached and I could feel the rage, the hatred, and the anger bubbling.

  Now, I may have been angry but I wasn’t stupid. I was still naked and bleeding on his table.

  “That won’t be necessary. Thank you, Tony.” That was all he needed. My surrender. I had just given him all he needed to hold me by my leash.

  “If you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” I sealed my fate.

  Alice or me. Fuck Alice. Here she was getting me in to more trouble. I wished I could hate her more, I wish I’d wanted her dead but fuck it, she was my mom after all.

  Tony nodded, reached over, and pulled a wad of paper from his top drawer. “I have a graduation present for you, Gabriel.”

  He placed the wad of papers on his desk, right in front of my face.

  “What is it?” My breath was coming in short heavy pants. The pain in my back and legs intensifying, scorching, flaying my skin. I needed to close my eyes. My senses grew dimmer.

  “It’s your new car wash.”

  I remained silent. What the fuck was he talking about?

  I waited.

  When he saw I wasn’t going to speak, he finally explained. “The pizza place, the hotel, and this here shop are doing well—very well, in fact, too well. We can’t keep up with the laundry and so we need a new outlet. Lucky for you, you are now the new owner of the car wash down on Fifth.”

  My jaw clenched tighter, and I swear I could feel my teeth sink deeper into the gums.

  “You, as the new owner, will operate my new business.” He cleared his throat and smiled, “Your new business. However, you will report to me weekly with both sets of books.”

  I took a few deep breaths. My head was throbbing, the hand forcing it down pushed harder, and my body felt like it was starting to shut down. “What if I refuse?”

  Tony’s face broke into a smirk and he huffed. He uncrossed his arms and bent over so that his mouth was by my ear. The heat of his breath was saturated with ham. “Salvatore here will call the boys, and Alice will join us within the hour. I will make sure she suffers, and I will make sure you get to watch. You can watch her swallow every dick I feed her, then you can watch as I make her choke on it.”

  I could feel powder in my mouth as my teeth ground together.

  “Now, now son; we all know that if she chokes on a dick, she’d have eaten something before she died.”

  He burst into hysterical laughter, and I could hear Salvatore’s cackle from behind me.

  I kept breathing. All I had to do was move, and I’d be the one swallowing dicks.

  “Where would you like me to sign?” My voice was scratched and hoarse.

  “That’s a good boy now.”

  Someone shoved a pen into my hand and, one by one, Tony flipped papers in front of my face. I scribbled my name as the pen hung loosely from my hand. I must have signed thirty different contracts; I didn’t need to read them to know what they would say.

  The thing about having a boss like Tony is that he acquires all the wealth without doing any of the work. His name didn’t show up anywhere, although he was everywhere, and his hands were in a hundred different pies. The man was a fucking ghost.

  He owned a mid-sized house in the suburbs, and his cars were all legally purchased. Well, the ones his wife and daughters drove around. There was no trace of him anywhere in any of his businesses; and that’s how he got away with it all. Pin the tail on some poor schmuck and pretend you know nothing. Today, I was said schmuck.

  When I’d signed the last contract, Tony took the papers away and shoved them back into the drawer.

  “Good boy.” He patted me on the head. I wanted to kill him. “Let him go. Salvatore, take him downstairs and have him cleaned up.”

  The pressure on my head and torso disappeared. My limbs were released and suddenly I felt weightless. I pushed against the table, standing up. I winced as my body protested, my muscles burning, my skin hanging on by a thread. I flinched when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Salvatore was by my side.

  He held me up as I pulled up my pants and left my dignity in shreds on the office floor. Salvatore helped me downstairs and to my room. I yanked my hand from his grip and slammed my door in his face—a small victory in the very large battle I had just lost.

  “Hey,” Salvatore’s deep voice came from the other side of the door, “let me help you clean up.”

  “Why don’t you fuck right off?!”

  He didn’t answer. I knew he was going to be outside my door all night and, that somewhere in the park, a few of Tony’s men had eyes on Alice. Hell, they probably had their hands on her, too. I wondered if she liked it. Didn’t really matter, not as long as she was going to get paid.

  I threw my limp shirt against the wall and let my pants and underwear fall to the floor. Each movement elicited a wince. The pain refused to remain in one spot; it wasn’t sharp, but rather I felt as if I had been held under boiling water. My skin felt singed and scolded and, with each movement, the pain spread across my back in waves.

  I staggered to the bathroom, a trail of red blood staining the floor.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my complexion ashen and sweaty. My stomach lurched, nauseated. I stepped into the shower and turned on the cold water. My body convulsed as water beads fell against my skin. I sank to my knees, the red water swirling around my hands. Bitterness crawled beneath my skin and gripped my insides.

  A path had been carved for me whether I liked it or not; my life has been decided by a sandwich eating motherfucker, and I had no say. I was in the world’s biggest prison—my own life—and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I staggered from the shower; the searing pain eased to a throbbing, aching reminder that played havoc with my brain. My mind conceded to the torment and began to shut down. I fell onto my bed, and everything went black.

  It took a week to set up the car wash. Salvatore didn’t leave my side. Apparently, he came with the business; a package deal of sorts, except that he had no benefits. He was just my shadow, like another reminder of all the looming darkness if I was to set a foot wrong.

  At the end of the week, I cleared out my room in the shop and moved into the upstairs apartment of the car wash. I hated it. I couldn’t sleep. It was too quiet and it smelt way too good, all soapy and flowery where I was used to smelling oil, lubricant, sweaty men, and exhaust pipes. I felt eight all over again, homeless and alone.

  For the next six months, I did nothing but work. I trained staff and watched them clean cars while I cleaned money. Once a week, I would go into Tony’s office and every hair on my body would stand to attention. The welts he had left on my back would spring up and the feel of the air conditioner on my face brought bile to my throat. Tony felt my discomfort. He had set it in there, let it harden, and tormented me with it. Our meetings extended longer than they should and, like a sadistic fuck, he would watch me flinch and sweat and squirm.

  What Tony d
idn’t know is that although he asked me to keep two sets of books, I kept three. Salvatore was too stupid to notice, and Tony was too busy playing mind games. He probably thought I was too afraid or too broken to ever steal from him; but, fuck it, I had plans.

  But like most things in life, even the best-laid plans never really go the way we hope.

  PART III

  My breath hung in the air in a wispy cloud. Even under the blanket, I felt the chill as it settled around the room. It seeped through the floor. That place was perpetually cold. I often wondered if it was the design of the building. I mean, it was basically one giant wind tunnel. Other times I thought maybe it was because I always saw it as my tomb. Tony knew how to dole out punishment.

  Hair stood on the back of my neck when bottles clinked somewhere outside. The noise pierced the darkness like soft bells. It was an odd sound at 3 am. There shouldn’t be anyone around. I grabbed the bat I kept under the bed and tiptoed down the stairs. My stomach rolled and my heart thumped in my chest as I heard the shuffling. It was coming from the back of the building; someone was trying to break in.

  My fingers curled around the doorknob, I could hear the bottles tinkling again. I yanked the door open, a gust of cold air pushed against my face. My hand squeezed the bat, coiled and ready to swing at whoever was digging through my trash.

  The tail took me by surprise.

  The animal’s head shot up, scared eyes glimpsed into mine, then it took off like a bullet. It slunk behind the dumpster, keeping to the shadows. I held on to the bat, my fingers tightening around the wood. As I rounded the dumpster, I expected bared teeth and claws. Instead, it was cowering behind a scrunched-up, plastic sheet trying to make itself smaller. My grip on the bat loosened.

  “Hey there buddy, you lost?” The dog took a shaky step backwards, his nails clicking on the bitumen. “Come here, I won’t hurt you.”

  As if he understood, the dog lifted his head. His brown fur shone yellow under the dim backdoor light.

  “You lost? You hungry?”

  The dog remained where it was.

  I took a tentative step forward, and the animal pushed himself into the wall, his tail tucked between his legs, a low whimper fell from him—a pitiful whining sound.

 

‹ Prev