by J. J. McAvoy
“The same reason you weren’t a virgin when I first fucked you, despite the fact that you knew you were going to come back to me… to marry me.” I reached up and pinched her nipple hard, pulling it towards me.
“Ah…” She gasped when I let go and I watched as it hardened.
“Our bodies are not loyal, Calliope. They respond no matter who is touching them. It is skin and nerves reacting. The connection you and I have isn’t just physical…it’s mental. Whoever they are, they are assisted masturbation. You are my partner.”
“So I can do the same?”
I knew the question was coming. It was the only logical thing to say. I felt rage at the thought boiling in me but I also knew I needed her for my plans. And I truly believed we were different. That no man or woman would be able to satisfy us…because what excited us wasn’t each other’s bodies but each other’s minds. Her mind belonged to me. Relaxing my jaw, I nodded. “Nobody twice and never raw.”
“And you called me insane,” she whispered.
“Didn’t you come to join me in my insanity? Don’t you want me? Well, this is the only way to have me.”
“I did. I do. Fine.” She answered each question and kissed me.
I wasn’t lying to her. She was in fact mine.
Chapter 8
“It's like chess, you know. The Queen saves the King.”
~Terry Pratchett
ETHAN - AGE 24
Houston, Texas
Friday, September 7th
I placed the gun into the holster at my side as the driver opened the side door. Tobias stood beside me along with Greyson. I studied the long line, which twisted around the corner outside of Killer Instinct, apparently this year’s hottest night club.
“Do you know who this is?” An Asian man argued with a bouncer with black earrings. He pointed to the Chinese man with him, dressed in white and surrounded by his own guards with two women on his arm, “This Chao Neng.”
“Never heard of him, so you and Chow Mein here can either get to the back of the line or go,” the bouncer sneered, pointing to the snaking line.
“Let’s get this done quickly,” I muttered to Tobias and they walked in front of me past the line and across the red carpet
“Sir.” The bouncer lifted the rope and opened the chrome door. The letters KI were on the metal, styled to look like claw marks embedded in it. The smell of alcohol and smoke poured out from within. The music was so loud that that I could feel the vibrations.
“You are making a big mistake right now!”
I heard the man yell behind me as we entered, the whole place packed with bodies. Women hung from the ceiling performing in the air while lights flickered. I skimmed around quickly, they were hard to find, they stood around all the exits.
“This way,” a woman in a short silver sequined dress was already waiting, holding a tray of red champagne. “Mr. Munha has been expecting you.”
I ignored the champagne and she quickly handed the tray off to another worker, ushering us across the top terrace overlooking the entertainment below. There was another bouncer who parted a curtain, letting us into a room partially blocked from view. Stepping inside, it became obvious he wasn’t there.
“Please make yourselves comfortable. He will be right with you,” the woman said as she turned to leave.
“He’s making you wait?” Greyson spoke angrily. I took a seat in a lounge chair, leaning back into it.
“Someone has obviously forgotten his place,” Tobias responded.
Nothing a little cutting down won’t stop, I thought, glancing at my watch. This meeting was already an annoyance. Peering through the curtains, I was completely uninterested and unentertained. Once you had been in one club, you had been pretty much been in them all. Why anyone would want to spend their nights surrounded by drunk lonely people in a dark crowded room was beyond me.
“Incoming.” Greyson nodded towards the short but muscular man with tan skin and curly hair. He walked with a slight hunch and stood out among the guards around him.
He came in the room enthusiastically, already running his mouth. “Mr. Chao Neng Chang or is it Mr. Chang? I can never tell which one is your first or last name.”
“Neither,” I said after his verbal vomit finished. His eyes met mine and widened only for a split second before a smile split his face.
“Mr. Callahan, I didn’t know you were in town.”
My eyebrow rose and I snickered. “Am I supposed to report to you? No, I am not. You are supposed to report to me. Nevertheless, I came to town. I didn’t even let my men know we weren’t invited to your little clubhouse today. They would feel a little insulted. Now that you know, how do you feel, Greyson?”
“It hurts, boss,” Greyson replied.
“Tobias?”
“Very insulted.”
“Hurt, very insulted…that’s how they feel. How do you think I feel, Miguel?” I asked him, craning my head to the side to look at him.
“I didn’t want to waste your time—”
“Yet, here it is being wasted. Sit with me, Miguel,” I nodded my head to the seat beside me.
He kept that grin on his face and turned back to his guards.
“Bring us some drinks,” he told them before walking to the seat beside me.
I stayed silent, watching nothing. There really was nothing to see. It was like looking out into a void, completely dull and not worth my attention. We all sat just there and the longer I didn’t speak to him, the more nervous he seemed to be. He sat on the edge of his seat and clasped his hands together.
“It seems there is a misunderstanding—”
“Why do you all get tattoos of gorillas on your hand?” I asked randomly, looking over to him. “It seems moronic to me.”
“It’s the symbol of Rocha. All the men get one.”
“I know. That’s why it’s moronic.” They thought it was a symbol of pride, but it was simply a way to show they belonged. Why the hell would you want people to know you belonged to a cartel? “You let the world know you belong to Rocha, so the world knows you are coming. They can spot you from across the room, but when everyone is watching you it makes it harder to move, no?”
“Or people just move out your way. They show you respect, they know immediately you are not to be messed with.” He snickered, lifting his hand and forming a fist. “Because if you mess with one, you bring the whole pack out.”
“Ah,” I nodded, now getting it. “It is a symbol of your weakness.”
“It is not—”
“You are weak, you are small, you are insignificant on your own, so you tattoo yourselves to let the world know you aren’t alone, you’ve got a pack, and therefore they shouldn’t mess with you. I understand. Thank you for clarifying. All this time I thought you were all just mentally incompetent.”
He clenched his fist tighter and luckily for him, his drinks came. “What are you having? I had them bring out our very best, our newest bottles, they haven’t even been opened.”
I perused the bottles and snickered. This was best? How sad.
“Tell me about the drug you added to the bag of cocaine you sent me,” I said, picking up a random bottle, undoing the cap myself. I smelled it before pouring myself a glass.
“It’s a spice, my boys in the kitchen added it by accident. Completely natural. We found it growing next to the coke in Colombia. It’s the same color and texture; it was mix up that it got into the batch, but woah!” He slapped his hands together. “We call it el ángel caido, the fallen angel. This shit has people waking up in heaven, so high they think they are kissing baby Jesus, but oh hombre, it is magnífico.” He kissed his fingers before drinking.
“That explains the angel part, what of the fall?” I asked, drinking as well.
He grinned, sitting up on the edge of his chair. “That is the best part. Just like the angels, once you wake up surrounded by the shitty stained world that is earth, you remember, just like the angels did, how good it was in heaven. They
crave more, el pordioseo, begging for more ángel caido. It doesn’t make them remember the high the coca gave them, it lingers in them.”
“Have you put this in any of my shit?”
“No!” he said vehemently. “We may be stupid for the tattoos, but we know the rules, no one messes with the product without getting the okay from the boss. Me and my people tried. I sent it to you so you know what your consumers will eventually want before they find this shit themselves and start looking elsewhere.”
“There is no elsewhere, Miguel.” I reminded him.
He nodded, tapping his head. “This is the country of capitalism, my friend. If there is a demand, eventually there will be a supplier. You know this—what the?”
He was cut off when all the lights abruptly went out. Tobias and Greyson immediately pulled out their guns and aimed at him.
“Are you playing with me, Miguel?” I asked him, sipping on the wine.
“No…no…no…I have no idea—” Again he was cut off but this time a few lights came on as one of the dancers spun in the air. She had red hair and green eyes, and all eyes were on her as she twisted and spun in the red silk in the space above the club…naked. The only thing sparing her from being completely exposed was the silk, which she carefully wrapped herself in.
“You’re in luck, Mr. Callahan, it seems there is show tonight!” Miguel whistled, leaning back in the chair.
I glanced over to Tobias and Greyson; both reverted to dogs, apparently. Mouths agape, their heads twisted to the side as they tried to get a peek at her. Shaking my head, I turned back to her to see that she halted her routine, her body hovering right between the space and the gap. She gave us a dazzling smile.
“¡Ay, mami,” Miguel hollered at her. She winked back and then a second later—
“GUN!” Greyson hollered, dashing towards me as she fired at us over and over.
“Get off of me!” I snapped, pushing his large body away and getting to my feet. Tobias shot at her, but she had already dropped to the ground.
I turned back to Miguel, who was hunched over on the couch. “It wasn’t me!”
“Find her!” I roared.
My guards, his guards, they all swarmed out leaving me with the coward, now monkey shit. Pulling out my gun I walked over to him as he tried to back away. “You were already on my fucking bad side when I got in here, now…now you’re dead.”
I held up the gun, but instead of seeing one of him I saw two. The whole world felt like it was spinning. Gripping the gun tighter, I fired. I missed completely. My throat burned and had to grab on to rail to keep from falling.
“Well, well, look who looks weak, small, and insignificant now.” He grinned, walking over to me and taking out his gun.
“Still you.” I didn’t say that. Both of our heads snapped to the side, and there was…the redhead? Before he had a chance to react, she threw something into his neck. He gasped out once before going down like a rock. She rushed over to me and kissed me, and I felt something enter my mouth.
I pushed her off me. “W—who the fuck do you think y-you are?”
“The woman currently carrying your child. You drank my poison, I gave you the antidote. Meet me here.” She put a card into my handkerchief pocket and patted my cheek. “Pull yourself together babe. Your men shouldn’t see you like this, it’s not very boss-like.”
She kissed me one more time before exiting just as quickly as she came. It took a second for me to gather enough strength to stand up straight. My mind was hazy, but still clear enough for me to recognize that voice.
Calliope.
Wait, did she say carrying my child? What the motherfuck?
* * *
CALLIOPE - AGE 21
Houston, Texas
Friday, September 7th
I was going to kill him.
I hated him so much right now, death was the only answer.
“Gu-uh…” I puked in the toilet.
“Did you say you are pregnant? After telling me you poisoned me?” He stood in the doorway of the bathroom.
I looked over to him, wanting so badly to bash his head into the mirror. But when he stepped closer, I caught that smell again and faced the toilet, puking once more.
“You’re pregnant,” he repeated.
I held my hand out for him to stop. Feeling dizzy, I looked up with all the anger I felt in my voice. “Shut up, strip, and take a fucking shower! Whatever cologne you’re wearing pisses this kid off and it’s taking it out on me!”
He stared at me like I wasn’t speaking a language he could understand.
“Vai, ora! (Go, now!)” I screamed in Italian.
His jaw tensed, but he shrugged out of his jacket and pulled off his tie. “Pull yourself together babe, it’s not very assassin-like.”
I grabbed the first thing I could reach, a small gold decoration, and threw it at his head. He ducked as he made his way over to the shower. He was mocking me? I was being attacked by his little spawn and he was mocking me. Didn’t he know how close I was to ripping his head off his nice broad shoulders? The mere thought of it, his body running around headless like a chicken, made me feel much better. It took a second until he stood under the water, but finally my punishment was over and I pushed myself off the ground, flushing the toilet.
I moved to the sink, and in the large framed mirror I saw him glaring at me from the shower. I grabbed my mouthwash, cleaning out my mouth before brushing my teeth, not once but twice, giving him time to finish as the mirror fogged up. He exited the shower with a large white towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets slowly rolled down his abs and dripped from his dark hair. If I didn’t want to kill him so badly, I would be tempted to join him.
He stood beside me for a second and I turned to him and smiled. “Better.”
“You’re pregnant,” he said again.
“Surprise,” I muttered taking the towel and wiping my mouth. “Please don’t ask me if it’s yours—”
“I doubt you would tell me or keep it if wasn’t mine.” He leaned against the sink. “You weren’t on something last time—”
“You’re asking now?” I laughed, and he frowned. “Of course, I was on something, a couple of somethings actually, apparently your sperm is a ninja warrior and didn’t fucking care.”
He laughed, and I wanted to roll my eyes. Maybe it was something biological but for some reason, men really loved knowing they could knock a woman up.
“So tonight was how you give me a pregnancy announcement? I say this without sarcasm; that was very original.”
Please lord almighty, don’t let me kill the father of my child. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself before turning to him.
“Tonight, I was working. Tonight, Miguel Munha of the Rocha cartel was supposed to be hosting the ambassador to China’s son, Chao Neng Chang. Instead of Chao Neng Chang, Ethan Callahan was there, out of the blue, ruining my plans, so I had to make new plans…to save you from dying from my own fucking original plan!” I hollered and then took another breath. “The pregnancy just slipped out because I was annoyed.”
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and before I could ask him what the hell he was doing he took a step over and walked behind me. I froze, somewhat stunned when his arms circled me, his hands on my stomach.
“You were swinging from the ceiling; my men shot at you...you tell me nothing else, just to meet you at the penthouse in the city. If you had done all that just to tell me you were pregnant—”
“I was never at risk.”
“You were in the eye of risk.”
I thought about it from his perspective. If I had done everything I did just to tell him, it would make me a fool, and there was nothing Ethan hated more than stupidity, planned or not. Nodding, I leaned back against his chest, shivering from the water soaking into my dress.
“If I was in the eye of risk, you were there too. You just drank without even testing to see—”
“Miguel is a coward. He wouldn’t risk k
illing me in his own damn club. Besides, the wine I picked usually changes color or bubbles if anything is added to it. I smelt the wine to make sure it wasn’t a different type, then I poured, and nothing was off. Neither he nor those around him have the mind to chemically alter it without leaving a trace. I was only in danger because it was you.” He placed his chin on top of my head.
I smirked at that, staring at our foggy reflection in the mirror. “That sounds like compliment.”
“It was.”
“I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”
He kissed the top of my head before rifling through his clothes to retrieve his phone.
“What do you want to eat?”
I couldn’t help it. First, the hug, then the concern, followed by a compliment, and a kiss to the head. This was him being tender, sweet even. However, if I pointed that out, he’d get defensive and retreat within himself to reset to his default mood: cold and emotionless.
“A medium well-done barbecue bacon smokehouse burger with extra onions and no cheese…as well as side of fries, one vanilla milkshake, and a bottle of sparkling water…I’m watching my weight.” I replied, and he nodded, dialing.
As he spoke on the phone, I reached up to touch my hair only to remember the wig I was wearing. Bending over, I wiped the steam from the glass to look at myself. For a woman who had just spent the last fifteen minutes puking, I looked surprisingly beautiful.
“I make one hell of a ginger,” I said when he his attention was back on me, twisting the red baby hair by my earlobe. “I’m keeping the look for the night, it took me so much effort to get ready.”
“I didn’t recognize you at all. It wasn’t just because of the red hair or the green eyes.” He reached up tapping his thumb on my face. “Who knew a birthmark could make such a difference?”
“I like them too,” I smirked, reaching up to touch his hand. “However, in my line of work identifying markers are a liability.”
“Did you cover them all?” His eyes looked down to my neck. I pulled down the straps of my dress, letting it fall and pool around my feet. “Very thorough.”