by Rina Kent
My nails dig into the flesh of my palms as I stride inside.
A cool shiver runs down my spine and I force myself to unlock the door of my building and head inside. My eyebrows knit together in worry as I take the stairs, playing with the hem of my jacket. There was something really off about the guy. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Or maybe it’s his spider tattoo.
In the apartment, I do my well-practiced routine – feed the cats, change their water, and clean the litter box. After I'm done, I pour myself a glass of cheap rosé and collapse on the couch with a heavy sigh. I turn on the TV, hoping it will disturb the eerie silence. But it's not totally silent... No, there's a faint thump of something, like wood against plastic.
I get up and follow the sound into my bedroom. My eyes widen when I see one of the windows is open, the corner of it hitting the windowpane repeatedly. I never leave my windows open when I leave for work. This isn't the best area to live in, and besides, I don't want the cats getting out while I'm gone. If I had left it open, I'd remember it – and I would have put the safety lock on. But there's nothing there now. The safety chain hangs uselessly by the window.
With a rush of fear spreading through my body, I close the window and lock it shut.
The whisper of the wind dies down, the thumping sound gone, but I still feel like I hear something. Perhaps it's just my own demons, lurking in the shadows of my mind and threatening to come back out the first chance I give them. But the warning is there – unspoken, but so very loud and clear in my mind.
Be careful.
Someone's watching you.
I spend the night tossing and turning, and wake up to a bleak, foggy and rainy day outside.
My last thought before I fell asleep was of Jasper.
My first thought when I wake up is of Jasper.
I'm so unbelievably fucked.
It's my day off, and I thought I'd be grateful for the reprieve, but I'm restless and bored the entire day. I flip through channels on the TV, go for a jog, play with the cats and start reading a few books, but I can't settle on anything. Around midday, I decide I can't possibly wait a second longer. I call Jasper's number, a smile on my lips as I wait for him to pick up.
He doesn't.
I end the call before his answering machine kicks in, my cheeks aflame with insecurity. Why didn't he pick up?
Forcing myself to think of anything else, I busy myself by cleaning the apartment until it shines. I don't want to, but I call Jasper again. This time, I listen to his answering machine, his lazy voice telling me to leave a message or fuck off. I pick the latter.
Finally, the evening rolls around and I'm sitting on my sofa in my cat-print PJs and soft fuzzy socks when the phone rings.
I nearly break a limb in my effort to grab it, but disappointment flashes across my face when I see it's just Dinah. "Hey, girl."
"Georgie!" She sounds excited, happy.
Why wouldn't she? I'm the miserable one waiting for a guy to return her calls.
"What's up? Are you off work today, too?"
"Yeah, I'm hanging out with some people from the hospital tonight. Got the kids’ dad to take them – I can’t even believe my luck! Anyway, one of them just asked me to invite you. Guess who?”
I groan but she ignores it, going on cheerfully.
"I told him you'd say no, but he insisted I invite you along. It’s Bill! And he looks so cute tonight.”
I don't care how cute he is. There's only one guy on my mind and cute is the last thing that can describe him.
But as I get through my second bag of gummy bears, I realize I need a distraction, so I pull my phone again and ask Dinah where they're heading. She rattles off the name and address of a popular club downtown – so not my thing, but it might make Jasper jealous, and the thought makes me inexplicably excited. I'd like to be the one to make his heart race. I want him to be possessive. I want him to get mad.
Dinah says they've got VIP tickets, and for me to give Bill’s last name at the door.
"Okay, I'll meet you there in an hour," I tell Dinah before I can change my mind. I end the call to the sound of her squealing, and it's hard for me to keep the smile off my face as I quickly get ready for my impromptu outing.
I pick out my tightest dress – a black silky number with long sleeves and a revealing neckline. Something comes over me as I stand in front of my lingerie drawer, and I shock myself by putting none on. It's daring, and going commando isn't exactly a habit of mine, but when I leave my ass and my tits bare, I feel oddly liberated.
I apply more makeup than usual and spray myself with my most expensive perfume before grabbing my jacket and giving the cats some treats before stepping out.
Despite checking my phone what feels like every minute, there's no call from Jasper. He doesn't care. The thought is now firmly lodged inside my brain, reminding me he doesn't give a shit what I'm up to or who I'm seeing. I grit my teeth together as I make my way down the block. I'll have fun and screw him.
The club is only three blocks away from my building, but I regret my decision to walk by the second one. My too-tall heels are rubbing against my soles and I'm already feeling a blister coming on. I get to the club, self-consciously wrapping my coat around my body as I feel the people standing in a line in front of the club glaring at me. Someone catcalls me, and a girl scoffs, but I ignore both and saunter right up to the entrance, where a velvet pink rope separates me from the club.
"Um, hi," I mutter, flashing a nervous smile at the enormous bouncer. "I'm with Kinsella?"
"The Kinsella party arrived twenty minutes ago," the bouncer says, smirking at me. "I welcomed them in myself and you were most definitely not with them."
I glare at him, shifting my weight from one foot to another. "Maybe you could just call one of them out? My friend, Dinah. She's very pretty. Big braided bun. Always wears pink lipstick. Remember her?"
I think the guy can tell I'm poking him, and he loses the smirk. "Sorry, Miss." He points to the end of the line. "You'll have to wait with the rest."
"Excuse me." We both look behind the bouncer, where a tall guy with slicked back black hair is grinning at me.
"Oh, Mr. Kinsella," the bouncer says sheepishly. "I'm so sorry about this commotion, I –"
"Hey, Georgie.”
"Hey, Bill," I manage. He looks so different than usual.
"She's with me." The guy removes the pink rope and motions me inside. I step forward while the rest of the line behind me groans.
I feel triumphant, shooting a look at the bouncer who steps aside to let me pass. The loud sounds and lights of the club barge in all at once.
"Thanks for sticking up for me," I tell Bill with a shy smile, keeping up with him.
"No problem, darling." He flashes me a crooked smile. He’s kind of handsome – Dinah was right.
I follow him inside the club where a group of people are waiting, my friend among them. I smile when I see her and she crashes into me, giving me a tight hug.
"So, was I right, or was I right?" she giggles. "Totally hot, isn't he?"
I shrug, but can't fight the grin off my face. "He's okay."
I catch Bill’s eye and he smirks at me. It reminds me of Jasper, and I fight the thought off. I can't think about Jasper right now. In fact, I shouldn't think about Jasper at all. He's ignored me all day long, and he doesn't deserve my attention.
There's a loud pop as Bill uncorks a bottle of champagne, and I join in the merriment with my own flute of bubbly. The booze feels light and wicked on my tongue, and I swallow it down along with the rest of my nerves. I'm going to have fun tonight. I'm not letting anyone take it away from me. I deserve to have a blast, Jasper be damned.
The group is lively and active, and we soon split up – half of the people hit the dancefloor, but I stick with the rest at the table. Dinah stays by my side, but I notice her staring longingly at the dancefloor, so I finally nudge her and point to the center of the room.
"You can go, you know. You don't have to si
t by me all night."
"You sure?" She gives me a doubtful look. "You gonna be okay by yourself?"
"Of course," I wave my hand dismissively, even though I barely know anyone here. "Come on, I'm not a baby. Go on, have some fun. I'll be right here waiting."
She smiles and kisses my cheek, thanking me. I hate feeling like a burden to my friends. I wish it was different, but both Katya and Dinah have always been so protective of me.
Dinah heads off to the dancefloor and I laugh when she blows me kisses. Glancing around the table, I realize there are only a couple of us left, including Bill. I catch his eye, but I quickly divert my gaze. I don't want to look too interested, especially with everything that's happening with Jasper. It doesn't feel right.
Bill approaches me and tops up my glass. I thank him, toasting him with my flute and downing the drink in one go.
"You know, that's not how you're supposed to drink champagne," he teases me. "It'll go straight to your head."
"Maybe that's what I want." It could be a sexy little comment if I hadn't cringed halfway through. To be honest, I'm downing drinks because I want to forget that Jasper hasn't called me yet. It's easier to forget than worry about every reason under the sun as to why he hasn't called.
"You don’t come out often. How did Dinah manage to convince you tonight?” Bill asks, and I shrug, twirling the stem of my glass between my fingers. When I don’t answer, he goes on. “I’m glad you came out, anyway. I feel like we never get the chance to chat.”
“We can chat now.” I don’t really want to, but I can be nice. “Tell me something people don’t know about you, Bill.”
He rubs his head and laughs. “My mom was my best friend in the world.”
“Aw,” I grin. “Momma’s boy.”
"Not anymore," he goes on, glancing away to hide the pain in his dark eyes. "She died when I was thirteen. Cancer."
"I'm so sorry."
"Long time ago." His tone is dismissive, but I can tell he's still hurting from the pain in his features. "She had some wonderful nurses when she was in the hospice. To this day, I'm grateful to them for making her life easier. It’s why I chose to do this.”
"I'm glad she had the care she deserved," I say. Bill nods, and we sit in silence for an awkward pause. A moment later, we both speak at once, laughing nervously when we clash.
"Please," Bill smiles. "Go ahead. Ladies first."
"I was wondering how you got VIP passes here? It’s a pretty new club, and kind of exclusive from what I’ve heard."
"I invest," he says. "I inherited a good chunk of money from my mom. So, I've mostly been investing in small businesses around the city."
"Oh," I say lamely. I don't know anything about investing or business.
"Like this club." Bill grins. "You're looking at a proud co-owner of Club Four."
"Congratulations," I laugh. "It's a terrible name, by the way."
I instantly blush, hating myself for my honesty, but Bill doesn't seem fazed by it. In fact, he laughs in response. "I like it. You tell it like it is. I could use more people like you around me."
"Well, I'm here now." I smile and take another sip as he fills my glass.
"Indeed you are." Bill’s eyes sparkle. "Now I just need the chance to steal you away."
13
Jasper
Vita Boarding School is a dirty little place on the outskirts of Chicago. The thing hasn’t been renovated since the start of times.
I stride through the halls of the school, stifling the sound of small boys’ giggles, laughter, and cries —the loud type. No one hears the small ones weeping quietly in dark corners. No one asks about them when they miss a meal, or two, or eventually disappear.
This place is labelled as a boys’ school but is, in fact, the scum of scum. It’s more like a transition phase before the children either run away or get taken in the middle of the night without anyone hearing a sound.
The lucky ones go into foster homes or, better yet, get adopted. But are they lucky, really? I was in a foster home once, and let’s say it didn’t end well, for them and me and every last fucker who pretended to not have seen anything.
I don’t knock as I barge into the principal’s office, Richards. He’s still old and fat like a pig with blemished skin and half bald hair.
He’s speaking with his right hand, Nancy, still old, too, but more wrinkled and still wearing those ugly brown-framed glasses.
I’m tempted to shoot them both in the head, but I don’t have time for pesky cleaning right now.
Lucio is getting restless and if I don’t bring him anything soon, all hell will break loose.
While I usually don’t give a fuck about any hell, and would meet Lucio’s little gangbangers head on, the timing isn’t good.
Marco didn’t only see my little Petal, but he’s also showing a perverted interest in her. I’ve seen the way his knuckles tighten and his nostrils flare. It’s the body language he has before raping and maiming people. So, if I mess up in any way, Lucio won’t hesitate to unleash Marco on her and use her against me.
And while I can and would finish Marco, life will only turn for the worse if I become the Costas’ enemy.
I can always kill my little Petal and end my weakness with my own hands.
That idea keeps diminishing by the day, as if it were never there.
Nancy stands up abruptly, her eyes bulging open. Richards clears his throat and wipes sweat off his bald head.
They recognize me. Good.
Considering they deal a lot with underground fuckers, it makes sense they heard of the name before.
After all, Richards is the one who gave me the name after I arrived here with nothing.
I pull out a chair, but I don’t sit down, just shove both hands into my pockets. “Let’s keep this short. Odd twenty years ago, Paolo Costa or one of his men brought a child here. I need to know what happened to that boy and where I can find him.”
“We don’t know about no Costa.” Richards continues wiping his sweat like an overheated animal.
“Try again, and this is your last chance, by the way.” I retrieve my gun and point it at them. “How about you, Nance? Do you know anything aside from locking young boys in a cellar for a week?”
Nancy’s face whitens and even her lips lose color. “I-I…”
“That’s not an answer. Goodbye.”
“I-I know!” Richards raises both his hands as the stench of piss fills the air.
I tilt my head as a big stain wets the front of Nancy’s light-colored skirt before dripping to the ground.
It would’ve looked better if it was blood.
“W-we d-didn’t take care of high-profile kids,” Richards stammers. “I can give you the contact of who did.”
“Name.”
“S-Sarah, Sarah Lisette.”
That’s the same name Giovani gave me, so this is adding up.
I motion at a Post-It block in front of him with my gun. “Write the info down.”
“Of course, of course, Jasper.” His fingers tremble as he scribbles in messy handwriting.
The entire time, Nancy pushes against her chair, not bothering to hide her little accident.
“H-Here.” Richards extends the note with trembling fingers.
I sheathe my gun and both of them release collected breaths. Before they can rejoice, I retrieve my knife and slam it in Richards’s hand, pinning it to the table while snatching the note.
He screams, the sound loud and immensely satisfying.
“That’s for spanking kids until they turn red, Richards. Don’t let me catch you doing it again, or your life will gain an expiration date.”
I jerk my knife and he screams again as his blood splatters all over the documents and the pens scattered on his desk. Nancy shrieks too, begs falling from her lips like prayers.
She’s such a fucking hypocrite. Not so high and mighty now, is she?
I point my knife at her, and she goes completely silent, tears streaming d
own her face. “P-please, Jasper.”
“Did you stop when we begged, Nance? Or did you lock us up?”
“I-I...I—”
“Shut the fuck up.” I turn to leave then stare at her piss soaking the front of her skirt, her eyes bloodshot and filled with tears. “That’s what happens when you’re scared, Nance, you piss yourself. From today onward, imagine how fucking children feel.”
Richards’ screams and Nancy’s quiet weeping stay with me as I step outside their office.
I need out of this fucking place before I burn it to the ground. There are children who receive care from this place, after all.
My feet come to a halt in front of the memorial wall. Several pictures sit side by side, commemorating the generations that came in and went out of that old door.
I find myself without having to search. It’s not that I stand out, but more like I don’t. I’ve always been the invisible type, the one who sneaks in the back and only becomes visible when he chooses to.
Being invisible helped me adapt to night patrol, the searches, the attempts of molestations.
Attempts, because I always got myself out of them, by force, by wit, by having Nancy lock me in the dark room. I just managed.
Richards stood beside my class at the time. I’m the scrawny kid near the back, partially hidden from everyone, half my face is blocked by the kid beside me and my one eye is glaring.
Fucking glaring at the camera like I’m telling the world and everyone in it to go fuck themselves. My eyes were fucking mean since I was a child, evil and meant to screw up the world.
Unlike common belief, people like me are needed. We’re the predators who keep the balance. Without us, it would all be old-fashioned chaos.
I’m about to leave when I notice the small boy clinging to my side. His short black hair is in a bow cut and he’s hiding his face against my shoulder, not looking at the camera.
And I... let him.
His small fingers dig into the sleeves of my T-shirt as if it’s a lifeline. The most bizarre thing is that I haven’t beat him to shit or smashed his face for touching me.
Joseph. Little Joe.