Made of Darkness

by Erica M Kim

  As I round the corner, the front door to Vincent’s gargantuan home opens. Here goes nothing. I pick up my pace to a jogging speed until I’m in plain sight. Pulling out my performing skills, I act like an out-of-breath runner focused on the road in front of me, and Shepard plays his part perfectly. Out of the corner of my eye, a silhouette of a man is visible, though it’s hard to tell much more without turning my head and looking suspicious. I need Vincent to find me, not the other way around.

  I’m almost past his mansion completely when I start praying to the gods that whoever I saw on the porch is Vincent and that he noticed me too. At the end of his mansion, I slow down to a walk. I’m pretty sure I missed the opportunity when I hear footsteps thudding behind me.

  “Lunis! Lunis, my dear!” I secretly smile before turning around. Yes! What a lucky day. Composing my face, I whip around to confront the footsteps.

  Vincent is dressed in dark-wash jeans with the pointiest and shiniest shoes that I have ever seen. A shiny, big buckle separates his neatly tucked-in black dress shirt that looks more expensive than my entire wardrobe. It is difficult to imagine him as the dangerous kingpin drug dealer that Markus described, which makes him all the more dangerous. Looks don’t fool me, fortunately.

  “Vincent? What a pleasant surprise!” I put on an innocent and delighted face.

  “I thought I saw you running around in the neighborhood. Who could mistake that beautiful, milky skin and dark hair, even from a distance?” I turn my gaze down, smiling, acting as if I’m blushing.

  “Yes, Shepard and I just hiked down the Hollywood Hills and landed here. Do you live in this neighborhood? These homes are very beautiful.”

  “Ah yes,” he says with his Spanish accent. “I reside in this home right here.”

  “This one is yours?! Oh, my goodness, Vincent! It’s lovely.”

  “Yes, it is. Wait until you see the inside. Please, will you come in? My chef brews a very delicious passionfruit iced tea that will refresh you. You can bring Shepard too.” Yes!

  “Of course, but I’ll have to be off in just a bit.”

  “Once you see the inside, you may never want to leave.”

  30

  Vincent was right. The inside of his home is perhaps the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’m sorry to admit this, but it puts Lio’s home to shame. If Lio’s home is one of beautiful simplicity and aesthetic efficiency, Vincent’s is one of magnificent grandeur and pure luxury.

  The giant cherry-oak double doors open the gateway to a world that fuses ultra-modernism with stunning gothic Victorianism. I can’t stifle the gasp that escapes my lips, and Vincent gives me a proud smile in return. The foyer I stand in is perfectly round, with dual stairs that line the walls. A giant gold chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and the walls are painted dark charcoal gray. Despite the dark-colored walls, there are bright accents all around. There is a trio of neon-yellow human skull-shaped candles, gothic candelabras that are stark white, the sofa in the living room is bright red. Vincent certainly has a taste for design.

  “Do you like what you see?” he asks after watching me marvel for a few moments.

  “Did you hire someone to decorate your home? This is the most amazing home I have ever seen.”

  “I did it myself. Interior design is a hobby and interest of mine. I’m pleased to have impressed you.”

  Quite frankly, I am more than impressed. I don’t know if I could go home to my own apartment without thinking it feels like a shabby shack. Vincent was right. I don’t ever want to leave.

  Vincent leaves Shepard under the watch of the chef and a bowl of water, and he takes me on a tour through the rest of his marvelous home.

  Vincent is quite pleased with himself throughout the entire tour. He speaks with the flourish and expertise of someone who has given this walkthrough hundreds of times, which is probably true, yet he speaks intimately as if showing the house to me is the only time it has ever mattered. He whispers about certain intimate nooks and crannies that hold ancient artifacts worth millions of dollars, even though there’s no one else around. It brings goosebumps to my arms.

  After the entertainment room, which holds a twelve-seat theater and a two-lane mini-bowling alley, we head upstairs to the master bedroom—the most private part of Vincent’s home. My heart hammers silently, and my mind reels in anticipation as Vincent opens the door.

  The double doors open into a high-ceiling, stately room with rich, ornate cherry wood that trims the floor and ceilings. The walls contrast against the wood, painted in a neutral beige color. The bed is larger than a king size, and I’m certain it’s custom, and over the bed, the ceiling has gilded mirrors. The bedroom is connected to a bathroom that is definitely my favorite part of the entire house. Homeboy certainly has bathroom taste. In the center of the bathroom is a solid gold clawfoot bathtub that is so deep that it requires a stool to get into.

  “This bathtub looks amazing . . .” What I would give to take a bath in a gold tub.

  “It would look even more amazing with you in it, my dear,” Vincent responds. Despite the cheesiness of the line, he says it in a matter-of-fact tone that dissolves any creepiness. I turn to face Vincent, and he returns my gaze with a crinkle in his eyes and a warm smile. Perhaps he’s not so bad after all. Or perhaps he’s the worst kind of them all. Either way, it all ends the same way.

  In spite of Vincent’s criminal career, there’s not a single trace of deviousness in his home. It’s completely spic-and-span. There are no visible cameras inside the home or unusual security measures. Furthermore, I can’t find a single trace of his peculiar proclivities, even in the bedroom. Not even a strange piece of art that hints to this darker side of him. To any outsider, Vincent looks like a well-to-do man who has excellent taste. Despite the lacquered appearance, I memorize every unopened door, every crevice that may conceal weapons or guards. The next time I’m here will be for battle, for life or death.

  The last leg of the tour ends at a door that opens to the magnificent backyard if it can even be called that. It’s more like an estate. The grass is perfectly manicured with a verdant green glow, and in the distance, there’s a wall covered in green ivy, locked by a wooden gate.

  “What’s behind the wall? Is it a maze?” I ask half-jokingly.

  “Ah, that, my dear, is my favorite part of the entire house. And it’s forbidden to most guests, but with you, I will make an exception,” he says as he takes my hand to lead me toward the door. I almost flinch by the gesture of affection but remind myself that this is all part of the job.

  A security-enabled keypad locks the gate, and I act disinterested as he enters the pin, but instead, I memorize the location of each number Vincent presses: up, down, left, right, up. Two-eight-seven-nine-five. I store the information just in case I need it later. The door unlocks once the pin code is accepted, and I let out a gasp. What I see beyond the locked gate is something I won’t forget for the rest of my life.

  In front of me is the most breathtaking garden I have ever seen. My eyes are overwhelmed by the colors, as there are more breeds of flowers and plants than I can ever name. Vibrant violet, brilliant blue, radiant red, and playful pink petals sprout from everywhere the eye can see. Every plant is in perfect condition. It looks like a chapter out of Alice in Wonderland, and I’m half-expecting the flowers to get up and start singing to me.

  Vincent leads me down a path to a bench that faces a classic Japanese zen garden with four large rocks in the center of perfectly swirled sand. I suddenly realize that Vincent and I have not spoken for several minutes, and when I turn to look at him, I am almost taken aback as we lock eyes. His stare is so intensely intent, and I cannot break the gaze.

  I know right away that he is going to make a move, and in this quiet, glorious garden, there won’t be much I could do about it. One millisecond before Vincent’s mouth touches mine, I turn my head quickly to the left, causing him to miss my mouth, and instead, he locks onto my neck. Although I’m successful in
averting a kiss, what I did not expect is the intense pleasure that is seeping across my body as Vincent hungrily kisses my neck. I suppress a moan that has gathered in my throat, and I momentarily lose myself in the moment. This garden must really be enchanted. Get a grip!

  Before I could pull away, Vincent’s left hand grasps me closer to him as his right hand creeps up my thigh, closer to the promised land. To my disgust, I want him to get there more than I would have ever expected. Oh, hell no. I need to get the fuck out. Now. I know hitting him would only urge his lust further, so I pull away hard and fast.

  “Are you alright, my dear?”

  “I . . . I . . . y-yes,” I stammer, not having to act at all. “This is very overwhelming to me, I’m sorry,” I say as I stand up quickly. “I should go.” I run off before Vincent can respond. I run like I’ve seen the devil himself until I reach the kitchen where Shepard is sleeping. I grab his leash and bolt out the front door without ever looking back.

  31

  I’m thoroughly shaken up by the time I reach my parked truck. It’s now completely dark, and the moon is lighting up the sky. Shepard is out of breath and barely moving, so I let him take a breather while I slump against the truck. I had to drag him half of the way back to the truck once he ran out of steam. Maybe bringing an English bulldog wasn’t the best idea for recon work.

  I can’t stop thinking about Vincent, his scent, his touch, his closeness. What is happening to me? Lio must have opened some subconscious lid containing twenty-four years of pent-up desire and lust. I have never been seduced by one of my targets. I was always the seducer. I mentally battle to get a grip over the control that I feel slipping through my fingertips like sand. I am so absorbed in chastising myself that I fail to hear rushed footsteps behind me. A man’s warm hand grabs my upper arm, and instinctively, I whirl around, elbow first, into the face of my assailant.

  “Ouch. Fuck, Lunis, it’s me!” Lio is clutching his right eye. “Who attacks someone like that? What are you doing in this neighborhood? Whose truck is this? And whose dog is this?” Oh shit. I have been caught red-handed.

  The last person that I had expected to see in this neighborhood is Lio, and I am in complete shock. In fact, I can barely form words in my mouth. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

  “I’m so sorry, Lio. You just scared me. Let me see your eye.” Peeling his hand away from his eye, I see that it’s already swelling up. Guilt seeps into my conscience, and I blow air out of my lips.

  “Are you running from someone? I was calling your name, and you were completely oblivious. What are you doing here, anyway?” Lio’s face is full of concern.

  In half a second, I have to formulate a response, and I rack every fold in my brain for the right answer, trying my best to cover up any mental calculation on my face. I try my damn hardest not to break eye contact with Lio as my brain concocts a story within the span of a breath.

  “A friend of mine lives up here, so we went hiking together. This is Shepard; his owners couldn’t return tonight to pick him up, so I brought him out with me for some exercise. We were just racing down the hill. And this ol’ truck,” I say, pointing to the red truck, “is my work truck. I keep it around for moments when I need a less luxurious ride.” Guilt seeps into my black heart, and I try to brush it away.

  “The owners don’t mind if you take their dog on a hike?” Lio skeptically asks as he continues to rub his swelling eye.

  “They appreciate it actually. Shepard would rather be hiking than stuck in a kennel. Right, Shepard?” Shepard lets out a labored breath and collapses on the ground in response.

  Lio eyes me briefly before relenting to my story. He has to give me the benefit of the doubt.

  “Why were you so caught off guard?”

  “I don’t know; I was just lost in thought, I guess. I’m just exhausted from the hike, Lio.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry I scared you,” Lio says, seeming to accept my story.

  “What are you doing here?” I change the subject at the opportunity.

  “I just got back from the airport. The attorneys that represent M.M.S. asked me to come into their office to sign paperwork right away, so I rushed to their offices,” he says pointing toward the row of office buildings lining Sunset Boulevard. “I was about to walk in when I recognized you leaning out of breath against your truck. You looked . . . frightened, Lunis.”

  Lio looks absolutely worried, and I officially feel terrible.

  “I’m okay, Lio. I swear,” I say as I offer a smile.

  “Are you still busy tonight?” Lio asks with a huge grin on his face, his blue eyes glistening under the street lamp. I nearly sway.

  “I have some errands to run . . .” I answer with my voice trailing as I slowly lose my grasp on willpower.

  “Can I come by after your errands? Come on, give a man a break. I am sporting a black eye from you.” He puts on the most handsome smile, and I realize how much I’ve missed him in the short time he’s been away. Just being around him already makes me feel calmer like my nerves have been washed away by warm waves.

  “Okay,” I relent. “But can you give me a couple of hours to finish up and we can try to have a late dinner? Perhaps around eight?”

  “Perfect,” he says as he moves closer to hug me. Before I could back away, I am enveloped in Lio’s arms, where all of the rigidity caused by Vincent melts away. Lio’s familiar scent soothes me and I lose track of how long we’ve been standing in an embrace. The only reason we part is because Shepard suddenly pulls on his leash to investigate a nearby bush.

  “I missed you so much, Lunis.”

  “I missed you too,” I admit. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  The entire way home, I conduct another full-blown debate in the confines of my mind. What am I thinking, inviting the man that I should be distancing myself from, into my home? I mean, I may not have dated very much, but I’m not an idiot. Inviting Lio into my home is an open invitation to my open legs. At the same time, every single cell in my body aches to be close to him. Multiple sirens are going off in my mind, and I shut each of them off by the time I reach my apartment.

  I justify every frenzied, anxious thought with an emotional excuse, and eventually completely give into my heart. I would allow it just this one time. By the time I reach the local grocer, I float in on cloud nine, planning tonight’s menu, like a damn fool.

  As the smell of roast beef fills my apartment, I swing the door of my walk-in closet open. I definitely have to hide my multiple personality closet from Lio. It would be completely obvious that the vast array of my clothes doesn’t match my daily attire.

  I eye my closet for what feels like an eternity and end up in a heather-gray, long sleeve cashmere dress. It is simple yet warm and inviting. I blow dry my wet hair and wear it down then start making my face. I dust some shimmery nude eyeshadow on my eyelids before coating my lashes with mascara.

  After feeding Shepard, I finish cooking the rest of the meal. The final menu includes sautéed brussels sprouts with bacon, Caesar salad with homemade dressing, fully-loaded baked potatoes, a perfectly cooked medium-rare roast, and chocolate soufflés that I’ll bake later for dessert. I dust off my dining table, which had previously only acted as a working station. Securing the folder with Vincent’s information in my hidden compartment, I set the table with two candles in a rustic gold candelabra. Taking a step back, I’m sort of embarrassed that I care so much about this night.

  Just as I set my phone to play Amy Winehouse in the background, someone knocks on my door. It is twenty minutes before eight, but perhaps Lio is just as excited as I am and decided to show up early. My heart starts thumping in eagerness to see Lio’s face again. I open the door in one swooshing swing with a smile that could have warmed hell frozen over only to find Vincent’s form leaning against the wall.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after you left,” Vincent says as he moves away from the shadow, revealing a face smoldering with lust. His demeanor changes when he peeks into my
home.

  “You’re expecting someone.” His voice is calculated, and his eyes scrutinize my face carefully.

  “Vincent, what are you doing here? How did you find out where I live?” I manage to say, forcing myself to sound as calm as possible. Inside, I’m screaming curse word after curse word. He is always one step ahead of me.

  “You should know by now, Lunis. I am a man who gets what he wants. And you, my dear, are exactly what I want,” he claims as he greedily eyes my body. The cashmere dress suddenly feels too short on me, and I fight the urge to pull the dress down further.

  “I don’t care who you are and what you’re capable of doing; it’s not okay for you to come by unannounced. Today was a mistake. I shouldn’t have let it get that far, and I’m not ready for that . . . yet,” I add as I remember that in just a few days, I would need to force my way onto him.

  And with that thought, I continue, “And above all, I have guests coming over tonight, and I’ll need to excuse myself now.” As if on cue, I spot Lio’s gray R8 turn onto my street, preparing to parallel park across from my apartment. Shit, Vincent needs to leave!

  However, Vincent didn’t think it was time to leave yet. He lingers with a smirk against the doorway as if he didn’t even hear my last remark. As a result, I see Lio’s confused face walking toward my door and brace for the worst. Fuck!

  Lio is carefully assessing the situation as he walks up the path to my place. “Lunis, is this your father?” he asks. Ha! He knows full well about my parents as he takes his first jab at Vincent.

  “Uh . . . Lio, this is my friend, Vincent Moreno. He was just stopping by to say hello since he was in the neighborhood.” Vincent turns around to meet eyes with his insulter.

  “Vincent Moreno,” he says while extending a hand out. “Nice eye,” Vincent sneers as he looks at Lio’s swollen eye. Shit. I feel terrible.