by Marni Mann
And the anger was suddenly there again.
“Don’t say it back,” I threatened. “I’m not ready to hear it.”
The truth was, listening to those words would hurt too much. As much as I wanted to hear them, I would be better off this way.
He continued to hold my cheeks, and he kissed me again. This one lasted much longer. I felt it through my whole body. I felt it wrap around my heart.
His actions were speaking the words, and I heard them so loudly and so very clear.
One day, I’d remember this moment. I’d wish I could return to it, put myself in this exact place, beg for his lips to be on me again, for his hands to be touching me, for our bodies to be this close.
But, right now, I had him. And I had us.
Mina
Present Day
“We have a serious fucking problem!” Arman screamed.
I held the phone a few inches away because his shouting was killing my eardrum, and I closed the balcony door behind me. “What’s going on?”
Arman didn’t call unless it was an emergency. The fact that this was unscheduled and around midnight told me it was worse than I probably feared. Things had been running so smoothly, too, so I imagined the problem had occurred behind the scenes. Those were usually scarier than an issue with one of my girls.
“It’s our supplier. He’s cutting off our goddamn drugs. Says he won’t sell to us any longer. He gave me some excuse about being watched, and he can’t provide the amount we need.”
I walked over to the edge of the deck and leaned into the half-wall of stucco, looking at the ocean in front of me. “What are you telling me, Arman?”
“I’m telling you, we’re out of business until we can find a replacement.”
“What?” I shouted. Then, I glanced behind me, waiting for there to be movement at the door or through the glass. There was none. Keeping my voice down, I said, “You don’t have a backup?”
“Christ, no. We’ve had the same supplier for the last twenty years. I never thought I’d be in a position where I needed to use someone else.”
This was against everything Arman had always taught me. In order for our company to run at the level we required it to, we needed a backup for everything. If something happened to a mark, I had another one lined up. If things didn’t work out with one of my girls, I could solve it. I planned for the worst. I had to for the type of business we were in.
But, to hear that our company couldn’t operate because we didn’t have a secondary drug supplier, that was simply unacceptable. We relied on that medication. Our organization as a whole couldn’t function without it.
“Tell me you have a plan, Arman. Every day we’re not out there, getting the marks we need, we’re losing out on money. That’s cash from my pocket and yours.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” he yelled.
“What’s your solution then?”
“I don’t have one. I’m working on it. We have the connections we need to find another one. It just isn’t as easy as you would think. There are so many goddamn regulations now, and everyone is afraid. Money doesn’t talk as loud as it used to.”
“Make it talk.” I looked down at my ring finger. I hadn’t worn my lion in a few days. Suddenly, I missed it. “Solve this problem before everything falls apart.”
We had enough drugs to last us through the end of the week but not a day beyond that. If things didn’t get fixed quickly, I didn’t know what I’d tell the girls. It wouldn’t be the truth; that was for sure. The truth would make me lose my credibility. They expected a certain amount of jobs at this point. They relied on a steady stream of income. If I couldn’t give them that, they’d want to leave. Then, there was the chance of them taking off and ratting to the authorities before I could find them, and I couldn’t let either of those things happen.
“I’m working on it,” he snapped. “I’ll call you in a few hours with an update.”
He hung up, and I stared at my phone.
In all the years I’d worked for The Achurdy, there was always challenges. With the girls, with the marks, with the auctions. But never something this large and vital to the operation.
I heard my name being called from inside the glass door.
I thought I had been quiet.
Apparently, I’d thought wrong.
“I’m coming!” I shouted back as I walked toward the sliding door.
I almost laughed at how ironic that statement was.
In a few minutes, I was sure I’d be doing just that.
Beard
Layla’s face appeared on the screen of my cell, my hairy fucking mug in a small box in the bottom corner. We hadn’t video-chatted that many times in the past, mostly because I didn’t want her seeing my bedroom. Even the smallest detail could give away my location, and I had to be real careful about that. But it had been a week since I was in Miami, and the Venezuelan rub-and-tug Diego had brought me to had a breakout of crabs, so the place was shut down. That was seven whole days without a chick touching me. If I couldn’t get one to suck me off, then video sex was the next best thing.
“Miss me?” Layla asked, her lips puckering into the screen.
“And me?” the stripper added. She was gnawing on hers, like the way I had a week ago. They were so goddamn fat, it was like chewing on a piece of gum.
The two of them were lying next to each other in bed. I saw the headboard and the light-gray walls, flashes of the blanket that was underneath them. What I really wanted to see was under the comforter.
“Fuck yeah,” I answered, glancing at my cock, which was standing tall and ready.
By now, I knew the way this conversation would roll out and the next two questions they’d ask. They’d want to know when I was coming home and when they could come and visit. The last time we’d talked, Layla had tried to get in even deeper, asking about my childhood and if she could meet my friends and shit. She obviously thought of me as more than just a fuck toy. It sounded like she wanted some type of relationship.
I didn’t want to hear her questions. I sure as hell didn’t want to be tied down by one woman, especially not by two who were fucking each other. I wanted to get off and go back to the prison and listen to the screams. And, when I was in Miami, I wanted my cock to live inside them. Anal, oral, in their cunts—however I could get it. But nothing more.
Still, I didn’t mind calling them a few times a week, sending texts, Layla filling my inbox with naked pictures of them.
“What are you wearing?” I asked.
Layla tilted the phone, so I could see her purple lace bra. She brought the camera down further, showing me her navel and a matching set of panties.
“And you?” I asked the stripper.
Her set was black, her pink nipples and pussy visible through the fabric. She touched herself, and I could almost taste the wetness on her fingers.
“Jesus,” I groaned as Layla brought the screen back to their faces. “Go lick her cunt.”
“Who are you talking to?” the stripper asked.
It didn’t fucking matter. I just wanted to see a tongue on a clit and a finger inside a pussy.
“You,” I answered, letting them figure out the roles.
“Did you hear that?” the stripper asked just as her mouth landed on Layla’s stomach.
It took a second before I realized they weren’t talking to me.
“Are you expecting someone?” Layla asked her.
“No,” the stripper said, her face moving away from Layla. “I’m going to go see who it is.”
“What’s going on?” I said.
“Someone’s at the door,” Layla told me.
“Why the fuck didn’t the doorman call and notify you?”
Worry crawled over Layla’s face. “I don’t know.”
“He can’t just let anyone up. It’s against the goddamn rules of the building, I’d imagine. Layla…”
She was looking past the camera, but after I said her name, she glanced at me.<
br />
“Call downstairs and find out why he didn’t notify you.”
“Wait, I just heard something.” The phone kept moving in her hand, zooming into different parts of her face, before she shifted again, giving me a better picture.
“Layla, did she put any clothes on?”
It took her a second to respond, “A robe.” Her eyes moved back and forth and widened, her breathing telling me how scared she was.
“What the hell is going on? Do you see something? Hear something? Talk to me.”
Bits of the room flashed by the screen, telling me she was walking. I saw the door to her bedroom and the hallway and the kitchen table.
“Oh my God,” she gasped.
I shot out of bed, my heart racing harder than it had felt in a long time. “Layla, listen to me. I need you to turn around, go back in your bedroom, and call the fucking police.”
“Beard.”
“Give me details, so I can help you. Tell me what—”
“Beard”—there was so much terror in her voice—“whatever you do, don’t call the police.”
“Layla—”
I was cut off by the loudest, most perfect scream. I couldn’t tell if it had come from Layla or the stripper or both, but it pierced my ears, and it caused me to stop pacing my room. That single noise told me so much. I heard the pain, the desperation, the fight, the fear.
“Layla, talk to me.”
“Beard,” she cried.
And then the phone went dead.
I pressed her name in my call log, listening to the four rings before I got her voice mail. I tried again and again, and on the fourth time, it didn’t ring; it just went straight to her message. Whoever was there had turned off her phone.
With my hands shaking like a motherfucker, I pulled up the Internet and searched for her building, calling the main line. The doorman or anyone who was in the lobby should pick up. But no one did.
I stared at my phone, not liking the feeling in my stomach or the one in my chest. And then my eyes fell to the bag on my floor, knowing just inside was a set of keys that would get me through Layla’s door. She’d given them to me the last time I was there.
Fuck this.
I rushed down to the prison and into The Eyes where Shank and Diego were sitting at the desk, staring at the screens.
“Where the hell is the plane?” I barked.
They both turned around.
“On its way here,” Diego said. “Why?”
“I need it right now. Something’s happened to the girls, and I need to go check on them.”
“What do you mean, something’s happened?” Shank asked.
“Fuck, man, I don’t know,” I said, digging my nails into my shaved head. “One minute, we’re video-chatting, and the next, she’s screaming like someone is murdering her. She told me not to call the police, and now, she’s not answering the phone. I have a bad feeling about this, and the only thing that will take it away is if I go check on her.”
The guys looked at each other, and then they glanced back at me.
“I didn’t think you liked her that much,” Diego said.
“I don’t. Not in that way. But you know…shit, I don’t want anything to happen to her. And I can’t…” I stopped, unable to say another word.
Fortunately, I didn’t need to. The guys knew exactly where my head was at.
Diego picked up his phone and tapped the screen. “Looks like the plane is about an hour away,” he said. “I’ll radio the pilots right now and let them know the plan.”
In my head, I calculated how long it would take me to boat to the airport, the hours I’d be in the air, and how quickly I could get to their building. A commercial flight would definitely have a layover in Caracas, and that was if they even had one available right now. This was definitely the best choice.
“I’m going to head to the airport in case they land a few minutes early.”
“I’ll take you,” Shank replied, getting up and following me to the door.
“Beard,” Diego said as we reached the entryway.
I turned around. “Yeah?”
“Call me when you get to their condo.”
I nodded, feeling Shank right behind me, and then I heard the metal door slam.
One of the guys must have called a transportation company because an SUV was waiting for me right outside the plane. I climbed in and gave the driver the address to Layla’s building. Once he started moving, I took out my cell and tried her a few more times. Her phone was still shut off. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t bothered to get the stripper’s number, and there was no way I could find it on the Internet.
But I could locate her office line. I looked it up, knowing she wouldn’t be there and neither would her assistant. Still, I had to try. Within a second of the call connecting, a recording came on that told me the number had been disconnected.
I didn’t believe it, so I tried again.
“What the fuck?” I growled, tossing my phone across the back seat.
When we got to the front of her building, I barely waited for the driver to slow down before I jumped out and ran through the lobby. The doorman wasn’t at the desk. I didn’t know where the hell he was, but I didn’t try to look for him. I just slammed my fist onto the elevator button and waited for it to arrive. As I got in, I hit the number to her floor and tried to be patient while it climbed.
That fucking feeling was back in my chest again. It was a mix between a pounding and a tugging, and the closer I got to her place, the worse it felt.
Once my hand was on her doorknob and I gently twisted it, it opened right up, not even needing the key. I flipped the light switch by the door, and I couldn’t believe what I saw.
Her apartment had been cleaned out. There wasn’t a thing inside, not even a chandelier. All that was left were the walls, the floor, and the recessed lighting.
This shit didn’t make any sense.
Layla had been here earlier. I’d seen the headboard and the blanket when we video-chatted. I had seen her bedroom and the hallway and bits of the kitchen table. I could still smell her island scent in here.
I walked past the kitchen and into each room off the hallway, and they were all the same—walls, floor, recessed lighting. Nothing else.
Jesus, fuck. I had so many thoughts in my head.
There was no way those two girls had done all this. This was a job for a moving company that could haul heavy furniture without banging into walls and denting molding.
I tried piecing it together, at least the parts I knew.
But, every time, I would come back to the same place.
This was a job for a professional.
Professionals like the guards and me. Depending on the situation, when we took possession of an inmate, we would move all their shit out and wipe the whole place clean, like the prisoner had never even lived there.
I guaranteed, if I dusted this place, I wouldn’t find a single fingerprint. I still checked, looking at the sliding door and the mirrors and the shower. I couldn’t find a single one.
Whoever had caused the scream had taken both girls, and somehow, I was going to find them. But I knew my timing was key. If I didn’t move fast, they’d be dead within a few days. People who took—like us—worked off a tight timeline. They covered their tracks, they got what they wanted, and then they killed.
They weren’t going to kill those fucking girls, not if I could help it.
I climbed back into the SUV and told the driver to take me to Layla’s office. I didn’t know why I bothered because I knew I’d find the same thing when I got there.
And, damn it, I was right. The sign was off the door, and when I looked through the window, the entire place was empty.
As I got back in the car, I called Shank.
“Not good, huh?” he said.
“Nah, man. How’d you know?”
“I just had a feeling.”
I heard noise in the background. A second voice, maybe a third, and som
e movement that told me he was walking around.
“Is that Bond?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
I heard more shuffling and what sounded like Shank putting his hand over the speaker. Words were whispered that I couldn’t make out.
Then, he said, “Listen, you need to come back here. Diego called your driver, so he knows the new plan.”
“Now?” The SUV wasn’t driving toward the hotel. It looked like he was heading to the airport. “Shank, I need to stay in town for a little while and see if I can find some shit out.”
“You need to get back here. Now.”
I leaned forward, rubbing my hand over the knee of my jeans. “Shank, what the fuck aren’t you telling me?”
“We’ll talk when you get here.”
Shank disconnected the call, and I stared at the black screen.
I knew every time Bond was scheduled to come to the prison, and I hadn’t been told about this visit. Something was definitely going on, and I hoped to hell my best friends weren’t involved.
Tyler
Two Years One Day Ago
Everything was finally in place. My suicide note was all written and zipped into the inside pocket of my purse. Jae’s apartment had everything I needed to kill myself.
Gary knew the timeline and was ready to do what I needed him to. My bartender friend was much savvier than I’d ever expected. It’d only taken a few conversations and lots of tears to get him to open up and find out he had the capabilities to do what I was looking for. Since he was my only friend outside The Achurdy, I really had to count on him for this. After shedding all those tears, I’d molded him to my plan. It wasn’t hard. Manipulating was what I had been doing for a living since the deer skull was tattooed on my skin. I hadn’t even had to use the powder on Gary. He just wanted the best for me, no matter what that looked like. And, when I’d told him I needed to die, he’d promised he would help.
But, now that it was going to happen tomorrow morning, it wasn’t easy to hide the sadness that filled me. Jae was moving through the kitchen, getting us each a beer to drink, and there were many things I wanted to say to him. It hurt me so much that this was going to be the last time I’d ever be in his presence. That, after I was dead, I’d never get to kiss him again. Never get to hold him. Never get to love him. Never feel the most sensitive part of his body inside mine.