Debt

by Nina G. Jones

  Woah, I always take care of her needs, so I don’t know what kind of question that is.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because, I’m not...in a rush. I mean, we’re not in the office, you don’t have to go so fast when you’re done with me.”

  Done with her. Like a piece of trash. It’s me who’s the piece of trash.

  “I’ll consider taking my time then,” I say, pressing my lips back onto hers, feeling her melt into my arms with need.

  When I preyed on her, I wanted to break her down. I wanted to make her weak. But her openness, her willingness to bare herself to me, no matter how harshly I reject her, that’s bravery. To know someone like me, and to allow your heart to feel anything at such great personal risk, I don’t think that is weakness at all. Guarding the heart is a fucking cakewalk compared to the pain she faces from me.

  Mia stops, looks up at me with her penetrating eyes, hooded with need, and then they widen. Her cheeks puff up, and she kind of jerks forward a few times.

  “Oh god, I think I am gonna be sick.”

  “Shit,” I say.

  She scurries away, lunging through her bathroom door like a damn linebacker and I hear the god awful sound of her retching.

  This night keeps taking turns.

  I should walk out, right now, in her time of need. In fact, I should pull her dress up and fuck her while she keels over the toilet in suffering. That is the reminder we both need. But part of what connected us that first night, the thing that makes my cock throb every time I think about it, is the fact that she liked my sexual rage. She likes to beg, to scream, to absolve herself of all the responsibility she faces every day. To play the victim for once, while she maintains control over everything else in her life. With me, she’s not in charge of a ten million dollar company, or responsible for the livelihood of 20 people and their families. With me, she’s not alone in this world, with no family. Even though she knows I know everything about her and she knows nothing about me, I think knowing that I am always there is a comfort to her. She believes the debt she owes is repaid in sex and subjugation, and so she feels safe in that because she gets something from it too.

  She doesn’t understand the full repayment of the debt is in her blood.

  So for me, there is no pleasure in fucking a girl puking over a toilet. She’s probably in agony, she won’t give me that pained look of need I thrive on. And I don’t want to treat her like a fucking dog. That doesn’t do it for me. I fuck her because I want to and I know she wants me to, not ever because I have to.

  So, something deeper than vengeance drives me to peek into the dark bathroom, and switch on the lights. She’s resting her arm on the toilet, her body limp and weak.

  “You’re still here,” she says, before hurling again.

  “Yes, I am,” I sigh.

  I am. This is usually the time I check out with any chick. If I can’t get what I came for, I don’t have time for this shit.

  Her limbs are sprawled along the white tile of her bathroom floor, and that uncomfortable feeling of protectiveness kicks in. Fuck me. When did I become such a giant pussy?

  I undo my cuffs, unbutton my shirt, and throw it onto the living room couch, so that I am in just a white tank.

  I kneel in front of her and brush her sweaty hair from her face. “You want some water?”

  She nods her head lethargically.

  “Alright, I’ll be back.”

  I head to the kitchen, and pull out a glass from a cupboard. In the quiet of her kitchen, I become hyperaware of the hunting knife I tuck into a holder in my pants between my undershirt and dress shirt. You know, just in case the moment strikes where I decide to go through with the plan. How fucking sick am I? That I can slow dance with this girl in her living room while keeping that whole assassination option available to me?

  I realize now that I have taken the shirt off, she could see the knife, though she was resting her head with her eyes closed on the toilet bowl as I left. I don’t want to freak her out, as I have no intentions of using it tonight, so I remove the holder and wrap my jacket around it, tucking it away on the seat of a dining room chair.

  I reenter the bathroom with a glass of water. She looks miserable.

  “Hi,” she says, trying to downplay how sick she feels. “I probably should have eaten more before taking all those shots, I think.”

  “Happens to the best of us,” I say. She did almost drink as much as I did. I am amazed she’s conscious. “You need to stay in here?”

  “I think I might be done for a while,” she says, pushing out a smile. She takes a sip of the water. “Bad idea.” She puts her head back in the toilet bowl. I stand over her and hold her hair back as she finishes purging. Mia flushes and fumbles to get back to her feet, so I pull her up. She gargles some mouthwash and then pauses at the sink for a second, like she’s trying really hard not to puke again. “Thank you,” she mutters.

  Mia’s pale and shaky so instead of slowly walking her out of the bathroom, I pick her up. It’s easier for both of us that way. She makes a throaty purr while nuzzling to my neck.

  Warmth. That fucking warm feeling is happening again.

  “You probably think I’m gross,” she grumbles into my neck.

  “I may think a lot of things about you Mia. Gross is definitely not one of them.”

  The breath of her silent giggle tickles my neck.

  We end up at the couch instead of the bedroom since it’s a shorter distance to the toilet. Also because the bedroom is just not a good idea, I think. It’ll be easier for me to slip out from here. I’ll stay until she falls asleep and then I’ll slip away.

  I stand her back on her feet and sit on the couch.

  “Come on,” I say, patting my thigh. She plops on the sofa and rests her head in my lap. I pull a throw from the back of the couch, the same couch that I bent her over the first time we met, and I cover her.

  “Tax, thank you for taking care of me. For staying.”

  “It’s all good, babe. Just rest up.” She nuzzles into my lap, and then the house is only filled with the sounds of Radiohead.

  A vibration on my hip awakes me. My head feels foggy from drinking and as I try to blink away my blurry vision, I spot Mia’s head in my lap. I feel for my phone in my pocket. It’s Jude. Fuck it. I ignore the call and check the time. Shit it’s almost noon, and SHIT, I spent the night.

  Mia stirs and lets out a moan of discomfort as she wakes. “I feel like ass,” she says, with a smile on her face. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” I say tensely. “Hungover?”

  “Yeah, my head, my body. It’s awful.”

  I run my fingers along her purple streak of hair. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “I feel really stupid,” she says. “I made a fool out of myself last night getting drunk like that. Puking...ugh! How juvenile!” She rolls towards me and buries her face in the crook of my lap.

  “No need. I think everyone needs those nights every once in a while. It reminds you why you should mind your alcohol. You almost drank me under the table last night.” She sits up and I stand, heading for the dining room table where my jacket lays.

  “You kind of have that effect on me,” she smirks.

  “Alcoholism?”

  “Not yet. But when you unexpectedly beat the crap out of a guy who...wait? How did you even know I was there?”

  I look at her disapprovingly and run my hands over my face and hair. “Too early for questions, Mia.”

  “Coffee?” she asks.

  “No, I’m leaving,” I say as though last night never happened.

  “Okay. Well, you probably know this from my shared calendar at Alea, but I’ll be out of town next week. I’m going to a convention.”

  “I didn’t look yet.”

  “Well, I won’t be around Tuesday is what I am saying.”

  “And where will you be?”

  “It’s a convention for the adult entertainment and products industry.”

 
; Mia, Mia, what a career you’ve chosen.

  “A dildo convention?”

  She lets out a pained laugh. “No!” Then she laughs again. “I guess you could call it that.”

  I grab my jacket and remember the hunting knife I have tucked inside. Taking it off last night was like removing 14 years of baggage from my body. Seeing it separated from me, as its own entity, with no intention of being used, I realize how fucking sick our plan for Mia is.

  I turn away from Mia and brace as I shift my tone towards her, trying to regain some ground from last night. “You belong to me. You understand? Even when you are out of town, no one touches you.”

  She watches me, stunned. I think she thought we were on some sort of equal footing for a moment. But now she remembers her place in this relationship.

  “Tax, I am a professional, I don’t look for fuck buddies at business conventions,” she says. “And as I recall, the deal was I give you sex. Not a monogamous relationship.” She has to know how ridiculous her logic is. She fucks the owner of Alea in a conference room every Tuesday. She doesn’t think she has a choice, but still, I wouldn’t call that professional.

  And I’m not sure if I like her boldness.

  And I don’t give a shit what the agreement was, no one else will touch her.

  “Don’t test me, Mia,” I reprimand.

  Resisting the uncomfortable urge to kiss her goodbye, I exit the house.

  I can sense Jude is in my place before I even open the door.

  Before I can take a single goddamn breath, she’s on my ass.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Out,” I say, desperately needing a hot shower.

  “Maybe you forgot we had plans for brunch today,” she says glaring through me.

  “Aww shit, sorry. We can go after I shower.”

  “Tax, this isn’t about breakfast. I know where you were. So what? Now you’re spending the night?”

  “I’m done having conversations about this topic. You need to get a life outside of this whole thing,” I say.

  “This whole thing? Thing?” she says, stretching out the last word.

  “All I am saying is this is coming to an end soon. What do you have, Jude? Your whole life has revolved around this. Every goal we ever had was about looking back at that night. Who are you going to be when this is done? You need to start living a real life. And I need my own space.”

  “What?” she says, her voice quivering in disbelief.

  “I’m saying I don’t want you just coming to my place unannounced.”

  “I cannot fucking believe you!” she snarls. “Now you’re suddenly a life coach? What about your future? Have you planned yours?” she asks, mockingly. “Oh, does it involve Mia?” she asks in a syrupy sweet voice.

  “Shut the fuck up. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately but I am getting sick of your interrogations. I have one mother and she’s dead.”

  “What’s gotten into me? What about you? You’re different. You ignore my phone calls, I don’t hear from you for days. I have to pry everything out of you. And now you don’t want me coming over? You’re shutting me out. I am your fucking twin, your best friend, your only family, Tax!”

  “And maybe it’s time your start branching out. We have to start living! That means you maybe finding a guy you like or other friends or a fucking hobby that doesn’t include revenge...fuck this. I’m not Dr. Phil. You need to start living at your own place and start minding your own life. You think once this is over anything is going to change? You think you’ll be happy, Jude? It’ll never end! You don’t even know who you are without this vendetta!”

  “Are you growing soft on me?” Her eyes narrow as she leans close. “She’s doing it again, isn’t she? Bamboozling you. You get a little pussy from her and you want to be her knight in shining armor.”

  “Oh, fuck you,” I say, dismissively.

  “It’s never gonna happen Tax. We are not her kind of people, we never were. And if she finds out what you’ve done, she’d hate you. And she’s not the person she pretends to be.”

  “Because we’re any better.”

  Her eyes well up, holding in tears of frustration. Her voice begins to quiver with fury. “Maybe you need to remember Tax, because I think you are forgetting. Remember what they did to us! Time softens people, they all soften. Everyone moves on, has a chance to grow and become better people. They magically develop morals, and they try to forget the things they did that they never paid for. They think time is an escape, that it makes things better.

  “Didn’t Huck have a wife, children...a daughter... a daughter, after what he did to me! How could he ever even look her in the eyes? Having a daughter and being a dad doesn’t make what he did go away!” Jude growls.

  “And now those children don’t have a father.”

  “And I will forever be childless!” she screams, tears pouring down her cheeks. Reminding me of the debt, of what they all owe Jude, of what I owe her.

  “You want me to move on, Tax?” she cries. “They took my life from me. They took my innocence. They took my future.” Her mascara runs down her cheeks. “They destroyed me. You’re right, I’ll never be okay, so the only thing I have is to make them feel the same. And don’t fool yourself Tax, you are just like me. You’ve been elbows deep in this shit, just as committed as me, until now.” Jude grabs my hand, pleading, her face stained with desperate tears. “Tax, it’s you, and me. I love Rex, but he wasn’t there. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to go through what we went through. He doesn’t understand the level of humiliation and injustice. We were just kids...” her pleas turn to sobs.

  I watch my sister and I am reminded there was a time she was innocent long ago. But now, she is a shell. She is hollow, barren, and she won’t stop until every last person who took her past and her future away is gone. And Mia is at the top of that list.

  Jude has always been focused on getting revenge, but she’s never been as bitter and rotten as she has become since I failed to kill Mia. I think she never previously doubted my commitment, but now that she does, it’s making her desperate and ugly. Jude and I used to have fun, we’d laugh, we’d talk, we’d confide in each other. But, this delay in killing Mia has driven her to a much darker place, and the more she insists I follow through, the more doubtful I become. Seeing my twin so desperate and blind for revenge is like putting up a mirror to my own motives. That is who I am. It might hide under calm demeanor, but that black hate is exactly who I am.

  But I know my sister is still in there. And the reason she is so loathsome is because long ago, my naiveté put her in harm’s way. I need to find a way to make this right for us all.

  “I promised I will take care of it. I will make it right.” I let her rest her face on my chest. “And this isn’t just about you. You were a bystander and I will never understand your pain, but for me, with this one person, it was personal. I am working on it, just like I promised, but you should know me enough to know that being on my ass doesn’t fucking work. You need to give me some space. Now, give me your keys to my place and go home,” I say.

  She whips her face away from me, hardening again. “Fuck you, Tax!” she shouts, pulling her keys out of her purse and hurling them at my chest. She flings the front door open, and I spot Rex standing out in the hall. He stays out of our epic twin fights.

  I head towards the open front door to find Rex pulling a drag of a cigarette.

  “How many fucking times have I told you not to smoke out here?”

  “I was hoping for the balcony, but I heard shit going down when I got up here and I am not going to get in between you and Jude. You know my policy on that. You two are too fucking intense for me. And I don’t pick sides in your insane evil-twin battles.”

  Jude and I get each other. That’s why she could sense from the very beginning something was off. I worked on one mark for two years and she never got impatient, but she just knows now. We love each other, we’ve done horrible things for each oth
er, but when we fight...wow, people would pay good money to see that shit. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that Jude is fiery and emotional, and I run cool. She puts on a huge dramatic show, and I just don’t respond the way she wants. I know she wanted me to chase her out of the building. Not gonna happen. I don’t have time for these games. One of us has to have a level head. If this vendetta were up to Jude, there would be decapitated heads all over the place and we’d long be in prison. We definitely wouldn’t be rich as fuck either. I planned all this shit. I got us the money, I meticulously set up the kills. Sure she helped, but I led and planned it all. And yet she has the nerve to question my loyalty. No fucking way am I chasing after her.

  “Get your ass on the balcony then,” I say to Rex.

  We walk out to open balcony overlooking Lake Michigan; I rest my elbows on the railing and let out a deep sigh.

  “She’s pissed huh?” Rex asks.

  “When isn’t she?”

  “Especially these days,” he says. “All I heard about since I met you all was this shit, and I thought she would finally relax, but she’s getting worse.”

  Rex blows out a trail of smoke. His neck is covered in scratches. I try not to think about it, being she’s my sister, but I know that’s Jude’s doing. I am not the only one with the penchant for rough sex. She was sixteen, I think, when she popped Rex’s 13-year old cherry and she pretty much has used him a personal sex toy ever since. He’s happy to oblige, they have some weird maternal-like relationship thing going on. We’re all so fucked up, I never really gave it much thought. But Rex has always really cared about Jude, and for him to be saying this shit about her tells me he’s even beginning to see through his Oedipal shit with her.

  “Yeah, I just need to figure some shit out.”

  “You don’t want to kill her, do you?”

  I don’t say a word.

  “You don’t have to worry about me telling Jude. I’ve actually grown to be real friends with Tiff and she really loves that girl. I’ve been watching Mia so long, I feel like I know her. I was never really thrilled about your plan for her, but I understood it wasn’t my call after what she’d done. But, when I saw you two last night...Man, I wouldn’t want to kill her either.”