by Clara Capp
I try to interrupt them, but Donovan is interrogating her about Shu. How big are his biceps? Does he have tattoos? What about long hair? Big, a ton of tattoos, and no, short hair.
“Your man does sound hot,” Donovan says.
“He’s not my man,” I blurt. “C’mon, Rina. Let’s go.”
I shove the papers I need into my bag. After this I need to make a stop to HR, because the ever-lovely Kristen hasn’t been returning my emails. I don’t say I hate people, because that’s not nice, but if I did hate someone it would be her. She’s so mean to me and I’ve never done anything to her.
“Donovan will never get off my back now,” I grumble.
“Who cares. I’d flaunt that guy anywhere. What’s his name, anyways?”
“Shu.”
I’m the only one who calls him that, but there’s no way I’m introducing him as ‘Shudevil.’ It’s so embarrassing to go by that last name.
“Like, what you put on your feet?”
“Yes, like that.” I pivot the conversation, not wanting to talk about him anymore. “Let’s stop by HR for a minute. Kristen hasn’t been returning my emails, and I need this invoice approved ASAP.”
“That blonde bitch?”
Yes, that would her. Widely known around Flux, she hates any girl around her age. She’ll give them the cold shoulder and make their lives as miserable as possible. It’s inevitable she meets them, because she processes new hires.
“Mhm.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
I snort and walk out of the elevator. “It always is with her.”
We walk into HR and she’s sitting in her cubicle, wearing her usual prissy face and scribbling on a document. Maybe it won’t be so bad if we both go at the same time. Or, it will catalyst, and she’ll be twice as pissed.
I hope for the former.
“Hi Kristen,” I say. “I was in the area and wanted to follow up on an invoice. Can you approve it?”
She glares at me. “Why didn’t you send me an email?”
The second scenario is looking far more likely. It’s naive of me to think the girl would ever react to me in a positive—or at least neutral—way.
“I sent a few. I brought the invoice with me.” I pull it out of my bag and set it on her table. “So…if you can review and sign right now.”
Kristen looks like she’s about to say no, but her supervisor chooses that moment to walk by. Kristen’s widely hated by girls our age, but all the men love her. She’s continuously sucking up to them, and it’s vomit inducing. It’s fortunate that her immediate supervisor is male.
She puts on her best fake smile and happily exclaims, “Of course, I can! Sorry about the delay.”
“No problem.”
Kristen scribbles her signature and Rina and I skitter out of HR.
“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” she muses.
“We got lucky.”
If her supervisor hadn’t walked by I would’ve had to figure out a different tactic. Crying, maybe. Or I could take a wet paper towel to her face and cut up her Birkin bag.
I’m spending too much time with Shu. I never think things like that, even about people like Kristen. Stupid bad influence.
“So, have you written any poems yet?” Rina asks.
Shoot. No, I haven’t written any poems yet. I’ve been so busy agonizing over Shu that writing poetry hasn’t even crossed my mind.
“Um…”
Rina sighs. “Write some poems. Maybe you can write them about Shu, if he’s being so frustrating. But mostly write them for yourself. This will be a great chance to break out of your shy bubble.”
I start to protest but she stops me. “Nope! We’re going, and you’re going to be the most gregarious person there. Or at least after a few sessions.”
Shu
At five pm I receive a call from Gary Hawthorne.
“Shudevil.”
Gary Hawthorne is an evil man. He hides it by putting on a friendly façade, so when people meet him, they think he’s the most upstanding businessman. So, the furious tone in his voice tells me I’m not going to like whatever he says next.
“Gary.”
“Let me tell you about what just happened,” he hisses. “My son, James, was on the way to a client meeting. Imagine my surprise when he almost took a bullet to the head.”
Well, then. Eduardo must’ve decided the man we tortured snitched about his plans—which he did—and promptly decided to change them.
“That’s unfortunate. What happened to the shooter?”
“Your men took him out, of course.”
Gary and James Hawthorne have ‘security guards.’ They’re men from our mob, but we set up an LLC to make it look like a legitimate business. Our men are better than any security guard company on the market.
“I’d expect them to,” I say.
“Take care of this Eduardo situation immediately. I can’t have things like this going on in the press. What the fuck am I supposed to say?”
Gary is the ultimate liar. This must have him seeing red if he can’t even think of a lie to cover the attempted murder of his son. I can think about five on the spot.
“Bounty for taking him out?”
“I just—oh my god. Stephanie. I haven’t even called her. What if they have someone on her right now? Fuck, I need to go.”
“I know where she is.” I interject before he can hang up the phone. “I’ll get her.”
“How do you know where my daughter is?”
“She takes the trolley to work and walks by our building every day. More importantly, you told me to keep an eye on her.”
I’m glad I have that as a cover up. If I knew where Gary Hawthorne’s daughter was with no explanation, I would be in deep trouble.
“Get her. Now. And she will be in your care until further notice.”
“You do realize you’ll have to tell her about the other side of the business?”
He exhales over the phone. “I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Alright. I’m leaving now.”
I stab the end button on my phone, and a nasty feeling of dread fills my stomach. What if someone gets to her before I can? I’ll kill them. I’ll spend the rest of my life hunting them and their family down.
If she’s alive, I have to drop a bomb on her, and I’m not sure if she’ll be able to handle it. She has no idea about her father’s illegitimate business practices.
I rush by Tony as I leave. “Stephanie will not pass by today,” I say.
Tony says something but I don’t hear it. I’m too busy ripping my car door open and pressing the push button start.
The drive to the trolley station is less than a half mile away, but it feels like an eternity. I’m relatively sure she got on the trolley safely because it stops directly in front of her work. But what if she’s already gotten off, and Eduardo has sent someone for her?
I pull into the station and jump out of my car. It’s 5:20, so she shouldn’t be here left unless she left early, which she rarely does.
I scan the station for suspicious characters as I wait for her. There aren’t many people around—mostly everything at this stop is industrial—but the few that are are workers. The men chat amongst themselves, laughing about their bosses and other coworkers.
One person is out of place. He sits quietly on the bench, and I’ve never seen his uniform around here. This isn’t good. I put on my sunglasses and hood to my jacket to make sure he doesn’t notice The Devil is after him.
I get as close as possible while waiting for Stephanie. He’s wearing a bulky jacket, so if he has a gun, I can’t see it. It unnerves me.
I about scream in relief when the trolley pulls up. Stephanie hops out a couple cars away, and two of the men walking on cat call her, and she turns bright red. If I wasn’t busy making sure this man isn’t trying to kill her, I’d knock their skulls together. They shouldn’t be checking out what’s mine.
I don’t call for her
attention yet. I’m focused on this guy wearing the jacket as I walk towards her. My hand rests on my gun that’s tucked in the back of my pants, ready to draw it at any moment.
Stephanie sees me right as the man pulls his gun. In an instant I put a bullet through his head, and she lets out a blood curdling scream as his brain matter sprays across the concrete. His gun slides towards Stephanie, who’s now frozen in place.
“Time to go, Sweetheart.” I grab her by the waist and drag her to the car.
She’s too scared to say anything and is frozen as I hold her. The girl would make an easy kidnapping victim. I shove her in my passenger seat and drive off before anyone else sees. I’m not worried about the workers. Most of them are ex-cons themselves, and they know exactly who The Devil is.
“You ok?” I ask.
Stephanie has gone completely white. She is slightly hunched over and has her hands wrapped around her knees.
“You…killed him. You killed him.” She tries to absorb the information. “Oh my god!” The girl starts to yank at the door, thinking I’m going to kill her next.
“I killed him because he was going to kill you,” I say.
“What?” She stops pulling the handle.
“That man was going to put a bullet through your skull.”
“You’re lying.” She starts to yank at the doors again, but they’ve auto-locked now that I’ve started to drive.
“I’m not. Give your father a call.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Daddy. Ask him why you almost died.”
I keep the doors locked as we pull up to the office. Stephanie tries jiggling the handle a few more times but gives up and picks up her cell phone. She presses her back against the door, keeping her eyes on me as she calls Gary.
“D-Daddy?” She her throat constricts, and her voice goes up an octave. “A man just killed another guy in front of me and threw me in his car. He says he killed him because he was going to kill me, and that you would explain why.
“Daddy says to put the phone on speaker.” Tears have started to pool in her eyes.
“Can you hear me, Shudevil?” Gary asks.
“I can.”
“Alright, Stephie. I have some difficult things to explain.”
Gary tells Stephanie about the other side of his business. He leaves out intricate details, such as how we use him to run opioids, and issues with Eduardo, but Stephanie gets the picture. The tears that have pooled in her eyes start to fall.
“You’re going to stay with Shudevil for a while,” Gary says.
“No,” she sobs. “I want to go home. I want to be with Slippers.”
“Slippers can come with you.”
Um, I don’t want a cat living in my apartment. I hate the things. But I’m not going to say no to Gary Hawthorne.
Stephanie cries for a little while longer as her father tries to console her over the phone. Eventually, she runs out of tears and ends the phone call. The girl sits quietly in my car, not trying to run.
“So, it wasn’t a coincidence,” she says quietly.
“What?”
“The day at the docks. My father sent you there on purpose.”
“That day was an accident. I was there doing…business, and things went south. I’m sure if your father knew I was anywhere near those docks he wouldn’t have sent you.”
Stephanie has a rare moment where she looks me in the eyes with no problem, and I see her decide I’m not lying. “When wasn’t it?”
“After I got mad at you for walking by my work. The chances of you being there were so miniscule that I had to learn your identity. That’s when I found out you were Gary’s daughter.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Stephanie.”
Stephanie smiles and a stray tear falls. “You didn’t call me Sweetheart.”
“After what I put you through today, I figured you’d murder me.”
“I…like it when you call me that.”
Oh fuck no. I can’t be having these thoughts as she’s crying in front of me. But she’s still the most beautiful girl in the world with tears falling down her face. Her eyes change from a dark to light green with brown flecks, and her lips and cheeks have a unique red tint.
“Am I moving to a new place? My dad probably wants me at a gated community.”
“Well, sort of.” I cringe, knowing she won’t take the next piece of news well. “You’re going to live in my guest bedroom.”
She chokes on her spit. “Wh-what?” She almost looks as horrified as after I shot the man in the head. “But…” Her eyes wander to the mark on my neck and she turns bright red. “Oh my god.”
“Let’s get your things, then.”
We drive in silence to her apartment. Her nails are digging into her palms, and she’s gone stark white. Why is she so nervous? Yes, there’s an enormous amount of sexual tension between us, but all she’s doing is living in my spare bedroom. She’s twenty-five years old, and hot as hell, so there’s no doubt she’s ended up in other men’s apartments before. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. I hate all those men.
“Where do you live?” she asks.
“Sunset Boulevard. The area around Beverly Hills.”
“Ok.”
Most girls are impressed at my status. I have a feeling that this will be nothing to Stephanie. With Gary as her father, she grew up with the best of everything.
Wait. If she’s from a wealthy family, why does she live in a small, run down apartment? She could be living in Bel Air if she wanted to. I contemplate asking but leave it be.
“I can meet you at your apartment. The trolley doesn’t run from that area, so I’ll pack up and drive over.”
“I’ll be driving you everywhere, Sweetheart.”
“But—Whatever. You can just wait on the sofa,” she mutters.
She packs Slippers in his carrier. I can’t believe I’m going to live with a cat. All they do is meow, eat, and leave fur everywhere.
She’s packing clothes into her suitcase, and a stray pair of panties fall out. It’s a small, cotton thong, and I want to scream because I can’t see her in it. My eyes wander down to her ass, and I wonder what it’d feel like in the palm of my hand. It looks like the perfect size for me to cup my hand around it.
Her friend comes out to the balcony as I’m loading Stephanie’s things in my car.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hi.”
“What’re you two up to?”
Crap. I want to let Stephanie handle this question. I’m not sure how she wants to lie about why she’s staying at my apartment.
“Er…” I say.
“I’m going to spend more time at Shu’s apartment.” Stephanie pokes her head out from under the balcony. “I need to grab some things.”
“Oh really?” A Cheshire Cat like grin creeps across her friend’s face. “Well, I’ll just leave you two to pack then. Let’s get lunch tomorrow, Stephanie.”
“Ok.”
Stephanie manages to keep it together until she shuts the apartment door. Then, she buries her head in her hands.
* * *
“So…this is it,” I say, leading her into my apartment.
My apartment is massive, and the vaulted ceilings only further emphasize its size. It’s a bit under decorated for a girl, but it’s fine for someone like me, who doesn’t give a shit. It’s strictly for sleeping, fucking girls, and watching TV. Sometimes business meetings take place here, but only with trusted contacts.
Stephanie is clutching Slippers to her chest while I roll her luggage in. I can tell how much she lidoesn’t want to be here. If I was a normal person, I could say something that would make her feel better. But I’m not. I don’t have reassuring words to whisper in her ear. My words have always been filled with darkness and hatred.
“I’m right across the hall. If anything happens, I’ll be there in two seconds,” I say.
“Will anything happen?” she whispers.
“I don’t think
so.”
“Goodnight, then.”
There is no hug, or sensual nibble on the other’s skin. She takes her bags in and doesn’t look at me.
I can hear her gentle sobs through the door. She cries to Slippers that it’s not fair, and she wants things to go back to normal.
I want them to go back to normal, too. Stephanie has stirred strange emotions I’ve never felt before, and I can’t decide if I like them or hate them. I do know one thing: It’s going to be a huge problem.
Stephanie
I don’t want to go to work today. I text my boss, Ms. Lane, that I’m sick and can’t make it. My heart rate increases when I hit the send button. I’ve never lied to her before. I don’t lie to anyone, really.
My stomach growls. I spent the night crying in my new room and didn’t come out for dinner. I try to ignore the hunger pains, but eventually they become too much to bear.
I peek my head out the door. Shu isn’t in sight. I’ll just grab something from the kitchen and skitter back to my room. I have my head in the fridge when I hear him.
“Hey,” Shu says.
He’s shirtless, and god damn. I haven’t seen his abs since the day we met, and I forgot how perfect they are. How much time does he spend in the gym for them to be that sculpted? It should be illegal for him to look this good. Well, most of the things he does are illegal, so this really isn’t any different.
You know in cartoons where they get nosebleeds from looking at hot people? I almost get one of those from looking at him.
I remember the day we met, and how I ran my hand over each dip. What would it be like to touch them again? What would it be like if I kept trailing my hand downwards?
Warm liquid drips down my face—I really do have a nosebleed.
“Oh.” I grab my face and stumble towards the paper towels.
I shove them in a messy ball against my nose. Ugly, but it works.
“Here, let me help.” Shu holds the paper towels in place and pinches the bridge of my nose.
His abs are even closer to me. I feel a particularly strong rush of blood and shut my eyes. I need to get away from the source.
“M’fine,” I say. I grab the paper towels and stumble a few feet away from him.