by Sweet, Izzy
“Simon, I do believe you have given Adam his twenty-first birthday gift,” he smiles at me and I can see his joy.
Adam is one of Lucifer’s greatest lights. The others are Evelyn and David. There is no distinction between adopted or not. In the eyes of the government, and Lucifer, they are his by blood. I would commend Lucifer for his devotion, if children weren’t so repulsive.
“So, I believe I can skip the unnecessary…”
“Simon, we can’t be viewed as living the life of the virtuous.” He shakes his head. “It’s not good for our image. Also, we need to keep all toeholds away from any incoming Russian presence. We may be at a lull, but I can feel… that this complacency will not last.”
“Agreed. Whether I want to admit such out loud at this moment, it’s odd that they are keeping their drunken selves so quiet.”
“We’re here, boss,” Peter says from up front.
“So we are,” Lucifer says looking out the window. “Let’s finish this up. Lily has plans for me to look over for the gathering at the end of the month.”
“Speaking of that…” I say.
“You will be in attendance.”
“Matthew, have I ever told you how fitting your moniker can be sometimes?” I say with a grimace.
Laughing loudly as he slides out of the door, he sounds to me like the real Lucifer when he says, “A few times.”
* * *
Eugene is struggling mightily as we finally have the concrete mortar set around the cement blocks his feet have been stuck in.
“Eugene, I’ve been known to be a forgiving man in my past, but I feel that has been taken far too much for granted as of late,” Lucifer says as he holds a pistol to the head of the quivering, overweight banker. “So, while I would have considered just putting you out of your misery, I’ve decided to be very strict with those that betray my trust.”
He pushes the fat man into the water with one firm hand and we all stand on the edge of the dock, watching as the man quickly sinks down to the bottom.
Bubbles float up as the freezing cold water rushes into the soon-to-be dead man’s lungs.
We don’t see his last moments deep down in the dark water, but I can feel those fears slightly rushing into my own mind as I think on Lucifer’s words.
2
Meredith
Peeling my eyes open, I glance towards the clock on my nightstand. It reads six o’clock. Shit. I’ve slept most of the day away…
Sitting up, I stretch my arms over my head to get my blood flowing and arch my back.
I feel a little guilty about sleeping in so late, but then again, it’s not like I have anything to accomplish. No, being held prisoner in this little townhouse, I’m trapped in this kind of hellish limbo. I have nothing to do. I have no purpose.
I just exist.
Sliding out of bed, I pad my way into the bathroom, flip on the light and freeze. Struck by the sight my own reflection.
My hair is so light now, I almost don’t recognize myself.
Gone is the dark color I’ve embraced for so long. The color that has set me apart from him, my wicked stepbrother.
I bleached my hair before I went to sleep, and the new blonde color makes me look like I could easily fit in with Matthew’s perfect little golden family now.
How a monster like him can have and even care about a family still eludes me. It’s completely unnatural and goes against everything I know about him.
I curl my lip in disdain and turn away from the mirror, hating the way I look. Hating the loss of that last distinction that set me apart.
Unfortunately, it was necessary.
Short of plastic surgery, this was the only way to drastically change the way I look. And I need to change the way I look if I ever hope to escape and evade the men after me.
Three months. It’s been three long months since I came to Garden City and begged Matthew for protection. If I would have known his version of protection would be handing me off to his most trusted goon, Simon, I would have never come to this god-forsaken place.
I expected Matthew to take care of my ‘problem’, to wipe the family of my former and late boyfriend off the map. I even half expected him to snuff me out for even asking.
What I didn’t expect was this. This… prison.
I quickly take care of my business, manage to brush my teeth without looking too much at myself in the mirror, and try to work out how I’m going to get out of the townhouse today.
Simon. Ugh. I have to call Simon.
The man has become the bane of my existence, acting pretty much like my prison warden. But given that my pleas and demands have fallen deaf on Matthew’s ears, he’s my only chance of getting out of this mess.
Walking into the kitchen, I grab my phone off the counter where I left it. The phone that was ‘provided’ to me like I needed the charity. I wouldn’t need it at all if they hadn’t taken everything I own away. Even now I can picture Simon’s cold voice and even colder face when he handed it to me like it was some great big boon he was bestowing upon me.
The phone only dials a handful of trusted numbers, 911 not being one of them. Thankfully, they at least allow me to order my own groceries and toiletries with it.
It’s the only fucking contact with the outside world I get.
I stare at the screen of the phone. Simon’s number sits at the top of the contact list.
My thumb hesitates in midair, floating above his name.
If only there was another way to get away, to escape. I’ve tried it all, though. I’ve tried sneaking out, only to find yet another of Matthew’s goons guarding the front door, waiting for me. I’ve tried escaping through the window, and I even made it across the backyard before they captured me. I’d befriend my neighbors, but the rows of townhouses surrounding me have been bought out by them and sit empty.
Subsequent attempts have ended before they even began. I don’t know how they know when I get the bug up my ass to try again, but they do.
The hair on the back of my neck rises, standing on end.
I think they’re watching me.
I shiver out my heebie-jeebies and then my thumb touches Simon’s name. Even if there are hidden cameras all over the townhouse, what can I do about it?
The phone rings once, twice, three times, before his voice comes through the line. “Meredith.”
God, how I hate the way he says my name. It’s so cold, so dead. Completely lacking in any feeling.
“Simon,” I say, trying to mimic the way he said my name and failing.
“What do you want?” Straight to the point, as always.
“I want to go out,” I sigh and lean against the counter. I’ll try this the nice way first before I get nasty. “Being cooped up like this is driving me crazy.”
“You know that’s not possible. I’ve explained this to you before. It’s too—”
I cut him off before he can say that one word he’s so fond of saying to me. Risky.
As if I’m not already extremely aware of my perilous position. Aware that there are powerful men, very powerful and well-connected men, who want to kill me.
“I’ve changed my hair,” I say over him and the line falls silent. I shift uneasily. “No one will recognize me.”
He’s quiet for so long I have to check the phone to make sure he didn’t hang up on me. Then the hair rises again on the back of my neck and I get that creepy-crawly feeling that I’m being watched.
“You what?” he asks almost harshly, finally showing some feeling. Why he sounds so pissed though is beyond me.
“I bleached my hair,” I explain, becoming annoyed that I even have to explain it to him.
Simon breathes into the phone, as if he’s upset, and I can’t help but find it a little unnerving. Why does he sound so upset? Is it because I’ve finally found a way to thwart him?
“How did you get the bleach?”
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Of course he wants to know all the dirty little deta
ils. He’s so damn meticulous and uptight, it’s beyond frustrating.
“I ordered it through the grocery store and had it delivered,” I try to say calmly but my annoyance is getting the best of me. There’s just something about him that pisses me off to no end. He’s so damn stuck-up, so anal about everything, it drives me a little mad. That, and I’ve tried every little trick in the book on him and he’s only proven to be completely impervious. “I had to because you won’t let me fucking leave.”
The breathing through the phone seems to calm and his voice returns to that cold, detached tone as he says, “You’re not going out tonight, Meredith.”
Those six words make me want to scream, but that won’t get me what I want.
“Why? Why not? Why does he insist on punishing me?” I ask.
So the nice way didn’t work. Time to switch gears and pretend to be remorseful.
“Look, I’m sorry I asked for Matthew’s protection. I realize that was a mistake now and I greatly regret it. I assure you, I’ve learned my lesson.”
“This is not a punishment, Meredith” he says slowly, snidely, once again letting some emotion slip. “This is for your own protection.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I knew this would be difficult, and he hasn’t hung up on me yet.
“Just let me go,” I resort to pleading, though it’s probably lost on him.
If there were any way to sexually manipulate him, I’d do it in a heartbeat. He’s not a bad looking man. In fact, he’s one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met. I’d take him to my bed without thinking twice about it. But Simon is beyond being influenced in that way. The couple of times in the past that I’ve tried with a look here or a touch there, have only caused him to shut down completely. To become even colder. More distant.
I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think he’s gay. It would explain why he seems to be stuck so far up Matthew’s ass.
“I swear, you’ll never see or hear a peep from me again,” I add, hoping to entice him.
“No,” he says so firmly, so strongly, I’m taken aback.
“No?” I repeat in disbelief then repeat again more shrilly. “No?!”
Fuck this shit, I’ve had enough. This has gone on long enough. I’m pulling out the big guns. Playing nice never works with him, he gives me no choice but to act the bitch.
“If I don’t get out of this shitty little townhouse, I swear I’m going to slit my wrists and spill my blood all over everything. The furniture… the curtains… the carpets...”
Yeah, I’m well aware that Simon is a germaphobe and a total neat freak. It’s yet another thing that makes him annoying.
He sounds almost bored as he asks, “With what blade?”
Oh, fuck this guy. Yeah, they removed everything from this house that could be used as a weapon, but I’m still pretty damn creative.
“With my teeth,” I hiss.
The line goes quiet, and I know he’s weighing whether or not he believes I’ll go through with it. Just for shits and giggles, I lift my hand up to my mouth to see what happens.
“Fine,” he hisses back, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or freaked out. Is he really watching me right now? Or was that just a coincidence?
“Fine?” I repeat for clarification, keeping my hand close to my lips.
“I’ll take you out,” he grinds out like he’s gritting his teeth. “But it will have to be to one of our protected properties.”
That’s not exactly what I was wanting, but I’ll take it. “What are my choices?”
“The compound. One of the bars. Or…”
Neither of those options sounds particularly appealing.
“Or?” I press.
His voice is thick with disgust as he says, “One of our many strip clubs.”
Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Not only because it will probably be easier to slip away in the dark of a strip club, but because it’s so obvious Simon hates them.
“I want to go to a strip club,” I grin and drop my hand.
“Of course you would,” he says like it’s supposed to be an insult or something.
I roll my eyes at the ceiling. What man doesn’t like strip clubs? I was only pretty sure before, but I’m one hundred percent certain now.
Simon is totally gay.
“Pick me up in a couple of hours,” I say and hang up the phone.
3
Simon
Why not go to a strip club? It’s going to be fun! We can watch the dancers, soak in the atmosphere, have a drink, and while the time away having a blast.
Except strip clubs are germ central. The dancers have STDs, the atmosphere smells like piss and old sex, and the drinks are watered-down.
Sure, this is going to be everything I could possibly hope for in a night out on the town. Diseases and piss. How entertaining. But if this is what will appease the princess, then she shall have her night out on the town. I’ll make sure she gets her fill of strip clubs.
Kill two birds with one stone type of thing.
Lucifer never said I couldn’t bring company with me when I inspect the properties.
“You know, for such a big SUV, you certainly are small for it,” Meredith says with a honey-laden sweetness.
She’s needling me. It must be her only weapon in life, her sharp tongue.
“When I have to carry large loads, it works just fine, Meredith.” I say and refocus my attention on the lights around us.
“Excuse me?” she asks in a tight tone. “What did you just say?”
“I need quiet, Meredith. I need to focus on the road.”
Fucking Princess with a capital P. I don’t really need to focus on the road, I know exactly where I’m going. But if it keeps her quiet, I won’t complain. It’s hard enough to focus with the proximity of her scent already getting to me.
It’s back again, the smell of barely used perfume, so light and airy, but too faint to know what it is.
I’d shake my head or try to roll the knots that are forming in my shoulders if I didn’t think she’d see that instantly as a weakness. I can feel her almost animalistic need to pounce on any sign of weakness. She wants to be the top too much for her own good, and in truth a good solid spanking would probably do nothing but make her meaner.
The way her body shifts in her seat though is driving me to desperate measures. Every time we pass under an overhead street light, I get glimpses of those long crossed legs. She should have worn a pant suit for the weather we are in. Her short, dark skirt barely reaches the midway point between her thighs and knees. She is completely irresponsible. The top under her coat shows far more skin than is needed.
Any neanderthal will now be able to ogle her to their heart’s content.
Everything she is wearing is dark. The high-heeled shoes, pantyhose, tight short skirt, tight fitting top, and heavy coat.
All that dark clothing and now she has pale blonde hair to go with it. Gone is the black silky hair. In its stead is a woman who looks like she belongs right beside Lucifer in the family business.
Too beautiful to be real—that’s the best way to describe her facial features. Even if she were to shave her head, she would still be the most stunning woman I have ever seen.
She’s stunning and the most infuriatingly stubborn woman I have ever met.
Does she know that every time she moves or fidgets, my mind can’t help but think of her? Does she know about the cameras I use every night to watch over her? To keep her safe and sound?
To keep me close to her?
Finally, I give into my body’s need. Rolling my shoulders, I let my hands go loose on the steering wheel as I try to subtly flex them. My body is so damn tense my muscles are starting to ache. Ache for something, but I have no clue what.
Is it her? Is it her that would help the ache that consumes me day and night since she came back to Garden City?
Pulling into the parking lot of Lucky Tails, I breathe out a sigh of annoyance. “We’re here.�
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Getting out of the car before she can respond, I shut the door roughly and take a deep breath of the cold night air.
It smells like shit here, but at least I don’t have to deal with her scent.
The other side of the car thumps as she slams her door. Walking around the front, she doesn’t even bother waiting for me as she takes off towards the entrance. I would have parked back behind the club, but she wants to come here so I might as well give her the full experience.
The sign above the club is made up of neon lights formed in the shape of a giant tiger. The tiger is lying on its stomach as its tail sways side to side in pink blinking lights. It’s tacky and absolutely what I expect all clubs like this to be like.
Ugly and just waiting for the unwashed masses.
“What in the hell is that?” Meredith points to the sign.
“Matthew’s idea. He believes it will bring in the crowds.”
Turning her sharp gaze to me, she asks, “You brought me to one of my brother’s strip clubs?”
“Of course. We must consider your safety, though we will be picking up a security detail from here. When we head to the other clubs your brother is considering purchasing, that is,” I say as I motion toward the front doors.
“So he’s doing what now? Franchising strip clubs? God.” She shudders as she walks to the front doors and stops, waiting for me to open them up for her.
I’d rather take a bath in pure alcohol. It’d be safer than touching that handle. Who knows where people’s hands have been before pulling open the door.
Knowing my luck, groping their disgusting body parts.
Staring at her intently, I say, “It’s getting cold. Are we going in or should I take you back to the safe house?”
The look of pure hatred on her face as she yanks the door open is all the reward I can possibly hope for.
She storms into the place.
The security at the end of the hall stops Meredith before I have a chance to be recognized.
It’s humorous to hear the door security ask, “You here as a guest or looking for job?”