by Vi Carter
“You want to tell us something?” I ask him. His gaze darts to Edward and I grin. He knows something. “I can kill Peter first, and then you can tell me.” I rise, and Peter starts to cry. His cries are muffled through blood and swollen tissue.
“Roger,” The middle man offers up.
“Don’t!” Edward barks.
And I decide that I want Edward to tell me.
“Don’t say anymore.” I surprise the second man as his brows draw down in confusion.
“I want Edward to tell me.”
The defiance in his eyes has me stepping closer. “I want you to give up Roger.”
I glance at my father, and he doesn’t look overly impressed. He doesn’t stop me, but I know he’d rather have his information and go back to Catherine right now. I want a message to reach everyone. I want them to know that it doesn’t matter how strong you think you are, I can break you.
“Peter,” I call his name.
Peter cries out, and blood drools from his mouth.
“I need you to pay attention. You will be the one who gets to walk away.”
I face Edward, and fear starts to trickle into his eyes. “Tell me all about Roger and do it quickly.”
Edward glances away from me, but not before I see more of the fight drain from him. “Roger works.” I clap my hands, directing his attention back to me.
The smell of smoke wafts through the air as Blitz lights up a cigarette.
“You look at me, while you sell out your friend.”
He clenches his jaw, his nostrils flare. “Roger Smith. He works on stall number eighty-two. He was bragging about working with the Rat Pack. That’s all I know.”
“That’s all you know?” I question. It’s enough.
“Yeah.” Edward still has some fight in him, and I need it removed.
I slap his face with only a small amount of force. “Thank you, Edward.” I grin at him, and more fear makes its way into his features, but it’s too late for him.
“We are done here, boys.” My father speaks up before placing a hand on my left shoulder. “Good work.” I nod at him, and he leaves the room.
“Can I go?” The middle man looks bewildered.
Blitz answers him. “No. You can’t.”
Fear drips down the line of men.
“Are you watching, Peter?” Peter nods and stares at me with one wild eye open. Fear will make him remember this.
Edward’s face is sharp, and it takes a few hits before I hear bones break. It takes a long time before he cries out, and once he does, I’m breathing heavily as I stand back. Blitz doesn’t miss a beat as he steps in and finishes Edward off quickly with a knife to his neck. The second man starts to scream, and Blitz shuts him up quickly.
Fox has returned to reading his paper. I walk to him and push it down, leaving a trail of blood all over it. He tries to push me away. “Are you both finished having fun?” Disgust coats his tongue. If Fox had his way, it would be a quick death. Just shoot them. His method wouldn’t ignite the fear that Peter’s words will say about what happened here.
Blitz carefully helps Peter stand, and I walk back to him.
“You did good, Peter.” He’s barely upright.
I nod at Blitz, and he removes Peter.
“So, we have a name. Shall I get this Roger Smith?” Fox asks, folding his paper.
“No. Let the word spread first; we might actually get some volunteers to give up someone higher in rank.”
“How do you know that Roger isn’t?”
I glance at Fox. “He was bragging about being in the Rat Pack. That’s not the actions of a high-ranking member.”
I remove my rings and start to clean them on the white towel. Picking off a piece of flesh that had gotten lodged in my signet ring, I wipe it in the towel before I clean the blood off the rest of my rings.
“Let Peter’s fear infect the rest,” I speak as I shine my rings. “Once it does, we shall see what comes out of the woodworks.”
Fox stands and gets ready to leave. “Someone has to clean this up and burn the bodies.”
“Get Blitz.”
“Blitz did a lot of the work already.”
Fox isn't happy and I grin at him. “You have to pull your weight, Fox.” He had the brains, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting his hands dirty. I always made sure that both my men were as knee-deep in it as I was.
“At least help,” Fox asks, and I’m ready to leave him here alone, but he’s too weak to be able to get the bodies out of the room.
I pick up my phone and text Blitz.
“When you’re done, come back and help Fox clean up.” I hit send and push my rings back on.
“Help is on the way.” Picking up my jacket, I salute Fox, who isn’t impressed, and I leave him to get rid of the two dead bodies.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WILLOW
The next day I’m dressed and ready for work. The black device feels heavy in my pocket. It feels wrong, and each time I hear footsteps on the stairs, I’m afraid it’s my mother. I’m worried she’ll find the phone and take it from me.
I get off the bed and make my way downstairs. I’m wearing the same outfit as yesterday. Entering the kitchen, I note that only my mother is there. She smiles at me straight away and hands me a cup of green tea. My stomach rebels the moment the liquid pours down my throat.
“How did you sleep?” My mother points to the table where the bowl of fruit awaits me. She’s coated it in Greek yogurt. I place my mug beside it and start to eat.
“Good,” I answer once I have taken at least three spoonfuls. I’m waiting for Rian to arrive. I’m tempted to glance over my shoulder every two seconds, but my mother is watching me carefully as I finish my breakfast.
“I spoke with Henry last night.” My mother walks to the table and sits down. As she moves past me, I inhale the scent of the coffee beans. To distract myself, I pick up my horrible tea and take a sip.
“You don’t have work today.”
My stomach dips, and I force a smile. “Fantastic.”
My mother takes another deep drink before looking up at me. “Something is different about you lately.” She tilts her head and assesses me like if she stares at me long enough, she’ll see the cracks.
My acting isn’t holding up. I knew this. I often felt emotions bubble under the surface—fear skitters across my skin of my thoughts boiling over.
“I think you need a break.” My mother nods.
The air is thin as I inhale it. Is she sending me away? Has she had enough of my madness. I had brought so much pain to my mother. I want to beg, but maybe locking me up is for the best.
“Some of the local youth are having a party tonight. Brittany, who is the most popular girl in the area, has given me an invitation for you.” My mother’s eyes beam with pride.
I’m confused. Why isn’t she locking me away?
“I said you’d go. It’s time you started to mingle with people your own age. I think you're ready.”
I’m not.
The idea of doing something normal is drawing me in, but I’m not normal.
My mother does the oddest thing. She rolls her eyes at me and laughs. “Don’t look so frightened, you will be fine.” She drinks from her mug before getting up. I can’t even pretend to smile. She pauses before she passes and places a kiss on my head.
“You deserve this.”
I close my eyes against the onslaught of pain and shame that rises.
No, I don’t.
“I’m really happy just being here with you, mother.”
I look up and she smiles down at me. Her features have softened, and she touches my face gently. “It will make me very happy if you went and had fun.”
I tighten my hands around the mug of tea. The heat is almost burning the tips of my fingers, I find my smile. “Okay.”
She pats my head and steps away. “There will be rules.” She places her mug in the sink before turning back to me. “This is your first outing, so it mi
ght be overwhelming. So no drinking.”
“Of course.” I think of sniffing the vodka, and my face burns.
“No smoking.”
“I won’t.” I never tried to and didn’t think it would be something I would bother with.
“No, boys.” Her words are harsh.
My stomach twists. I shake my head quickly. “Of course.”
Guilt swirls in my mother’s eyes, and she steps close to me. “It won’t be forever, Willow. I promise. It’s just boys bring too many emotions.”
“I’m not ready yet,” I reassure her, and her brown eyes soften.
***
Time passes quickly as my mother drags me from one shop to the next. She selects a simple white knee-length dress. It’s comfortable, but I hate the color. White is too pure for my flesh. I don’t complain or speak my mind. After we go to the beauty salon, we move onto the hairdresser. It’s a day of being pulled and prodded. I flick through magazines, not reading them, but I don’t want to have a conversation with anyone. It never goes well. They ask questions I don’t want to answer. My mother normally sweeps in and saves the conversation from plummeting to the floor. All day she’s spoken for me. I find it easier to pretend I’m engrossed in the fashion magazine on my lap. The phone in my pocket vibrates, and every cell in my body roars to life. I look up and meet the hairdresser’s gaze in the mirror. Did she hear it? Will she ask me what it was? I was being paranoid.
“Is there a toilet I can use?” I ask.
She takes the iron tongs away from my hair. She’s nearly finished, but I want to read the message that I know is from Rian. I’m almost giddy as I walk to the toilet. I don’t want to walk too fast in case I draw attention to myself, but my feet are begging me to go faster.
I don’t have the door locked when I take the phone out of my pocket. The small envelope bounces around the screen, and I eagerly press it.
“Where are you?” My heart jumps around in my chest as I stare at the message. Why would he want to know where I am?
My fingers hover over the buttons, and I’m ready to write back when someone knocks on the door.
“Willow.”
I nearly drop my phone in my panic to get the phone into my pocket. Once it’s safely away, I open the door and step out.
“Are you okay?” My mother runs her hand through her freshly done hair.
“Yeah, fine.” I don’t ask why. That would seem odd.
“Okay, you go back and get finished so we can go home and get you ready.” Her excitement lights up her eyes as she enters the bathroom. I walk back to my seat like I have a bomb in my pocket. I didn’t lie to my mother, so why was I keeping the phone a secret?
***
“Remember when you go in, ask for Brittany.” My mother stares at the house, and I can see she’s unsure now about me going to the party.
I sit and wait for her to tell me that I can go home. I’d gladly leave this behind me. The small handbag I clutch to has my card, red lipstick my mother insisted I wear, and my phone. I hadn’t texted Rian back yet, and hadn’t seen him, so once I had a moment, I would.
“Okay, go.” My mother’s words have me trying to prepare myself. My smile is automatic as I climb out of the car. I give her a small wave as I walk up to the house. Every single room has lights on, I can hear the soft thump of music, and the closer I get, the more voices I hear. I glance back, and my mother is still sitting there waiting for me to go in. My finger pushes down on the buzzer, and no one answers. I’m ready to bolt when the door opens. A girl with long blonde hair and black dress answers. She’s beautiful as she smiles at me. She glances over my shoulder and waves at my mother.
“Oh my word, you must be Willow.”
She’s really sweet. “Brittany?”
“That’s me.” Her smile widens, and she steps back to let me into the house. I take one final look at my mother before Brittany waves at her and closes the door.
“I’m so happy you arrived. Honestly, I didn’t think you would.” Brittany walks and talks, and all I can do is smile at her as we pass people who gaze at me with curiosity.
The music grows louder as we enter a large sitting room that seems to hold most of the guests. Everyone here is my age, drinking and laughing. As Brittany enters, they all take us in. I don’t react but allow Brittany to bring me around the group, and I’m slowly introduced to people. Most are pretty drunk already.
“This is Mandy.” Mandy’s red flaming hair flows down her back as she whips it behind her shoulder. She’s very drunk.
“Aren’t you a bible thumper?”
“Jesus, Mandy.” Brittany’s eyes widen, but Mandy slaps a hand on her hips.
“I go to Bible study, if that’s what you mean.”
Mandy’s gaze narrows in on the silver cross that dangles from my neck. “Bible study.” She sneers before taking a drink from her bottle.
“I’m sorry, Willow.” Brittany links her arm with mine, and I’m tempted to pull my arm away from her, but I remind myself she’s being nice, and once I pass a few hours, I can leave.
“It’s okay.”
A group of guys bouncing a white ball on a table roar to life when one of them gets it in a red cup. “That’s Chad,” Brittany says, while drinking from her own cup that she picks up off the counter.
Chad couldn’t have heard her, but his gaze zero’s in, and he wears a smile like someone who knows their worth and then multiplied it by ten. His blue eyes jump to me, and his smile widens. He says something to his friends, who follow his movements towards us. He doesn’t look away from me.
“Who have we got here?”
“This is Willow.”
Chad’s eyes light up. ”Want to play a game with us boys?” He points at his friends behind him, who all watch with interest. Most people are drinking and talking, some watch us, and I’ve never felt so out of place.
“No, thank you.”
“Let me get you a drink.” Brittany steers me around Chad, who turns when we do. I don’t like him, he’s too cocky, and cocky people are dangerous people.
I take the cup from Brittany and raise the liquid to my lips, I pretend to swallow, and it looks like I do a good job of it as Brittany smiles at me.
“Brittany, Mandy is really drunk. We need you.” A short brunette drags Brittany away, and I’m grateful to move around myself. I pour my drink on top of a plant and make sure no one is looking.
I wander through the house. People are friendly. I see Brittany trying to pull Mandy away from some guy as I move past a sitting room. Double doors lead outside, where there is a more chilled atmosphere. I take out my phone and decide it’s a perfect opportunity to text Rian. A red cup appears in front of me. I follow the arm all the way up to Chad's smiling face.
“I saw you stumbled and spilled your drink all over the plant.” His blue eyes sparkle. I glance around for his friends, but he’s alone.
“I didn’t stumble.” I clutch the phone. “So no, thank you.” I decline his drink, making it clear I’m not interested.
“Okay, you didn’t stumble.” He’s smiling like this is some private joke between us.
Two of his friends spot us, and I want to end this before they come any closer.
“I’m not interested, Chad.” I’m direct, and his smile slowly falls off his face before he slowly forces it back on.
“Willow.” He says my name slowly, and I’m ready to walk away. His hand circles my wrist, and I freeze. “You don’t have to be rude.”
I glance down at his fingers that circle my arm, and he slowly removes them as his friends arrive. I walk off, my heart races a little faster, and when I glance back, Chad and his friends have gone back into the house. A guy strums on a guitar, and I sit down on a lounger and remove my phone.
I’m staring at Rian’s message. “Where are you?”
“At a party.” I send it quickly before I lose my nerve. I know he meant earlier. Maybe his dad never told him I wasn’t working today.
The strum o
f the guitar is nice, and I sit still as Mandy stumbles into the garden, narrows her eyes, and enters the house again. I check my phone. I've only been here for thirty minutes. Two more hours and I could leave. I think that would cover it.
CHAPTER NINE
WILLOW
I push down the want to join in. I shove it so far down, that I become numb as I sit on the lounger. I’ve put the phone away and just watch people come and go. Some of them give me sideways glances. Others don’t even see me. I like those people. They are so caught up in their moments, that they don’t see. I want to be that blind. I want to be so engrossed in someone’s story or laugh like the air is growing thin. I’d even settle for the girl who’s sobbing on her friend’s shoulder.
I’m surrounded by people, and yet I’ve never felt so lonely. I frown at the emotion and the sense of emptiness that tugs at me. I won’t make friends sitting here. I get up and decide to look for Brittany. Maybe I should try to have a normal conversation.
The house is louder, and everyone seems so much drunker. Three people walk into me, but their apologies are quick, and I accept. I see Brittany, who’s still nursing Mandy. My bit of hope of maybe having a friend deflates as I turn away from Brittany and nearly walk into Chad. His smile is back on his face.
“A peace offering.” He holds out a red cup.
I don’t take it, and he leans in. He’s a lot taller than me and has to dip his head to whisper in my ear. “It’s a 7up. I won’t tell anyone.”
He takes a step back and holds out the cup that I accept this time.
“Thank you.” He was trying, so maybe I should too.“You are welcome, Willow.” His eyes dance with alcohol, but he wasn’t even close to being as drunk as most people here.
“So, why haven’t I seen you at a party before?” He leans against the wall, and his confidence and ease at how he holds himself is something to be envied.
His large frame is clad in all denim.
“Maybe I have been at parties before.” I take the smallest sip of the 7up, and it tastes normal.