Woman Named Red

by Stasia Black

  “Search her.”

  The giant guy yanks off my backpack and hands it to the other man. Then his hands run up and down my body. I yelp and try to push him off, but he just keeps at it, face impassive. In the end, I’m glad it’s him and not the tattoo guy. Gorilla man finds my phone where I tucked it in the side of my bra and retrieves it without even copping a feel.

  Not that he bothers being gentle when he shoves me inside the room. I barely stay on my feet. When I finally get my bearings and turn back to the door, it’s slamming shut.

  “Wait!” I run to it and try the handle. It doesn’t give. They’ve locked me in here. “What are you doing? Let me out! This is all just a misunderstanding!” I pound my palm against the solid wood of the door. No particle board here. It’s one of those old, solid oak doors. “Just— Wait!” I shout again.

  Silence.

  “What the hell?” I scream furiously, switching to fists and pounding at the door.

  Yeah. That does nothing but make my hands hurt.

  “Damn it!” I give one last yell and kick the door.

  “Shit!” And now my toe hurts, too. The rubber has worn thin on my Converse and the shoes did little to soften the blow. I turn my back to the door and am about to slide down to the ground but then I glance down and think better of it. Who the hell knows what’s on the floor or what they normally use this room for.

  It’s not cold but I still wrap my arms around myself and walk over to the chair in the center of the room. I sit down, then I glance around.

  It’s just four empty walls that were once maybe beige? God I hope that’s not supposed to be white. They’re really dirty, especially near the floorboards. It looks like there was carpet once but it was ripped up and the ancient-looking hardwood flooring was never resurfaced.

  All kinds of stains spot the dark wood.

  Oh God, what if this is the room where they bring people to get rid of—

  I look up again. Stop it, Scarlet. Let’s not go there and imagine what could have made all that dark staining. I swallow hard and then close my eyes.

  Hmm, which of Sami’s lovers was my favorite? I mean, Lucas was great, but you gotta have a spot in your heart for fan-favorite love-to-hate EJ. If he could come back from the dead—again—and be all the way good this time, well I really think he could be her forever soulmate. On the other hand, there’s also the bodyguard, Rafe…

  * * *

  I’m left in the empty room for four and a half hours. I watch the seconds tick off on my watch. It’s one of the only belongings I’ve always managed to hold onto from before. Dad gave it to me for Christmas when I was twelve. It’s not fancy or super expensive or anything. I think Dad spent around a hundred bucks on it—but it doesn’t look like it—which was good because that meant no one ever tried to jack it when I was on the street. It’s pretty basic, but it’s like one of those last forever survivalist watches. I was late for shifts for a few weeks before Christmas so he bought me this super-watch as a gift that year. Waterproof, super-battery, that kind of thing. I told Dad it was too ugly for a teenager to wear and I’d never be caught dead in the thing.

  After he lost the restaurant, I never took it off.

  I run my finger around the little circle of the watch face. Dad, if you’re up there and can put in a word with the Big Guy, me and Enzo could sure use any help we could get right about now.

  Is Enzo even here? I look up toward the ceiling again as my stomach churns.

  I have the worst feeling that he is here. I’ve thought so ever since Kennedy and I watched that video of Enzo leaving the apartment last night.

  Kennedy. Another sour stomach flip. What did he think when he found my note this morning? I’ve done such a good job of not letting my thoughts go to him. Searching for Enzo has been stressful enough and then there was my less than comforting reception when I got here.

  I shake my head. It might have been the cowardly way out, but God, how else was I supposed to do it? If I’d tried to say goodbye to his face… I just can’t imagine being able to handle that. Would he have tried to stop me? Or worse, would he have agreed and let me go without argument?

  My heart lurches at the thought.

  Which is so goddamned stupid.

  All the trouble I’ve gotten myself in, and I’m concerned about the state of my heart? My eyes drift back to the stain in the left corner of the room. The dark brown one that looks like it might be from some kind of liquid that pooled.

  It’s a big stain. No, not a stain—a spill.

  Because that’s all it is. A spill of some kind. Maybe someone had a big pot of chili in here at some point and it all spilled and—

  Heavy footsteps suddenly sound in the hallway outside the door.

  Crap. Shit. What do I do?

  I go sit in the chair. No, that’s stupid. I stand up and move to the back wall. But maybe it’s better if I look small and docile sitting in the chair to throw them off—

  The door is thrown open and suddenly Francisco himself is standing there. The Hulk and tattooed guy follow right behind him. I freeze, just staring at them stupidly for a second before getting my crap together and straightening my spine so I’m at my full height. I try to keep my eyes steady on Francisco even though my whole skin prickles at his smug, calculating gaze.

  “Francisco.” I nod to him. What the hell, let’s jump right in. “I was wondering if my brother was here and if I might talk to him.”

  Francisco looks me up and down and then laughs. Tattooed guy joins in. The giant man just stands there with his huge arms crossed, biceps bulging.

  “Puta, you think you can come into my house and start demanding things?”

  “Not at all,” I say pleasantly, keeping a neutral smile on my face but not dropping my eyes. “I was just inquiring if Enzo was here. We’ve been business partners after all. And I did give you three million dollars of the profits yesterday for the…” I wave a hand, “…honor of my brother’s company.”

  The smile drops from Francisco’s face and he walks up to me so that he’s right in front of me. He stinks of tobacco and the stale odor of unwashed sweat. “That was yesterday. You got another three million on you?”

  My mouth drops open. Is he freaking serious? I still don’t avert my eyes, even though he’s so much in my space his face is only about two inches from mine. “What will people think if you renege on deals you make? Plenty of people heard me bargain for my brother’s release yesterday.”

  Francisco’s nostrils flare and he grabs me by my chin, thumb and finger holding my cheeks in a vise grip. I yelp and struggle but he wraps his other arm around the back of my neck to hold me in place.

  “You must really be some Grade A pussy if that fucker was willin’ to pay thirty mill for it.” He drops the hand around the back of my neck and grabs my crotch.

  I scream and claw at his hands but his hulking guard comes and locks my arms behind my back. “Let me go, you fucker!” I scream in Francisco’s face.

  He laughs again. “You came in here the first time looking like a drowned rat. I thought you was fucking nuts thinking you’d squeeze Benson for even a thousand, but then you go and get his whole fucking fortune.” He shakes his head, grinning wide. “’Course, now I see these tits and ass you was hiding, fuck, I’d pay to get me some of this, too.” He grinds his front up on me, dick semi-hard. I jerk away. Not that I get anywhere, sandwiched between Francisco and the giant at my back.

  “I mean, not thirty million,” Francisco keeps going, “but maybe a hundred bucks if I was feeling generous.” His thumb digs into my cheek and he tilts his head, mocking like he’s thinking about it. “Which makes me think. You came to me with a business proposition. And now I’ve got one for you.”

  He lets go of my face with a shove and takes a step back. I twist to try to get away from the ape who’s got my arms, but again, it doesn’t do anything except wrench my shoulders.

  “Yang makes big bucks with those geishas of his over in Chinatown. I been th
inking of starting me up a stable of girls of my own. You could be the, what do they call it…” he waves a hand, but then snaps his fingers and points at me, “the founding member.”

  Oh God, God, get me out of here. He’s got another thing coming if he thinks he’s going to pimp me out. “I’ll bite off anything any man tries to stick near me,” I scream in his face.

  He pulls me close again to grind himself on me. This time I feel even through his jeans that he’s all the way hard. “Oh I like it when they fight.” He grins, eyes bright but pupils getting darker by the second. “Let’s test out the merchandise.”

  I open my mouth and scream at the top of my lungs, right in his ear.

  The side of my face bursts in an explosion of pain but I keep on screaming even as I’m knocked partially to the ground. The only thing keeping me on my feet is the bastard holding my arms behind me.

  “Hey, what’s going— Scarlet!” Enzo is suddenly in the doorway. He rushes toward me but the tattooed guy holds him back.

  Francisco laughs again and it’s a dark, evil goddamned sound.

  “Get out of here,” I cry to Enzo.

  “Hey man,” Francisco says, “you shoulda told us earlier about your big sister’s golden cunt.”

  Enzo’s face goes from confused to enraged, but oh God, I know it won’t matter.

  “Run!” I scream, but stupid boy, he keeps trying to get to me.

  The tattooed guy pulls out a gun.

  “Enzo,” I yell, “No, don’t!”

  I yank even harder against the guy holding me. I about pull my shoulder out of its socket, but I finally manage to get one arm free. Francisco’s busy ripping down the top of my dress. I let loose and slap him as hard as I can on the face.

  I realize my mistake the second I make contact. I learned it at Kennedy’s restaurant just yesterday—you try to defend yourself against a man and they just hit back twice as hard.

  Francisco doesn’t defy expectation.

  “Bitch!” he roars and punches me. Then I’m back in the giant man’s hold so again, I don’t go down even though I feel like Francisco’s blow dislocated my jaw.

  Oh God. I blink against the pain as the world tilts sideways. The overhead light swings and blurs crazily. Pain. Ow. Everywhere. Pain. I lift a hand to my forehead but I miss and don’t make contact. Why is everything spinning?

  Enzo. Where’s Enzo? Zo?

  I’m here. Get out… I’m coming, we have to get out…

  …

  …

  …

  Aaar.

  Aaaaaaar.

  Scaaaaaaaaaar—

  “SCARLET!”

  I blink and jerk back to consciousness.

  Enzo’s screaming my name.

  “Scarlet! Fuck! Fuck, talk to me! Scarlet!”

  “Enzo,” I call back.

  “Get away from her, you sick fuck!”

  I blink again, only to see Francisco’s laughing face and bared teeth. He dips like he’s going to bite my breast and I kick and jerk as much as I can. Escape. Save Enzo. God, help us. Save us.

  And then suddenly, everything gets so much louder.

  Francisco lets go of me and even the big guy behind me relaxes his grip.

  “What the fuck is that?” Francisco yells but I can barely hear him over the loud pop pop pop noises that roar in quick succession. God, it sounds like it’s coming from on top of us. And from right outside the door.

  From everywhere. I blink hard. Focus. Fucking focus, Scarlet. The spinning room settles slightly.

  “Watch them,” Francisco calls to the tattooed guy, tossing me toward the corner where the big stain on the ground is.

  Tattooed guy pulls something on the top of the gun back like he’s loading it and waves it at Enzo, gesturing him to come sit by me.

  “Enzo, come here,” I shout. He rushes over to me and I grab him in my arms. He’s solid against me.

  He’s saying something and trying to check my face where Francisco hit me but I push him away. Francisco’s opening the door and I want to know what the hell is going on out there.

  I see shock register on Francisco’s face. He tries to shove the huge guard in front of him but the big man turns to run the other way, back deeper down the hall.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Bullets tear through both of them. Francisco’s chest rips open and he spasms with each rapid-fire bullet.

  It’s his face that gets me, though, oh God his face—the complete shock there. It’s not even pain, there’s no time for pain before he slumps to the ground in front of the door, dead.

  Dead. The giant man is similarly riddled with bullet holes, his dead body just lying there, a mountainous bloody lump right in the middle of the hallway. Shot in the back as he was running away.

  And now whoever did that is coming for us. I shove Enzo behind me even while he’s trying to do the same to me.

  “Fuck, fuck, what the fuck?” Tattooed guy is freaking out, his whole arm shaking as he holds his gun toward the door.

  “Get down,” I finally say to Enzo and drag him down instead of us wrestling to be each other’s shield. He nods and we drop and try to make ourselves as small as possible in the corner, holding onto each other for dear life. However short it might be. Why is it just our luck that we land in the middle of a goddamned gang war?

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Enzo says over and over, his whole body shaking. “I thought they were my brothers. Familia. That’s what they were always talking about. Please, you have to forgive me. I can’t die with you hating me—”

  “Shhhh,” I whisper, clutching him even tighter. “I don’t need to say anything because there’s nothing to forgive, but if you need to hear it, fine. I forgive you. Now quiet.”

  The gunfire comes only in pockets now. God, does that mean they’re leaving? Have they gotten whatever they came for?

  A man comes around the corner and looks in the room. Tattooed guy shoots and the other man jerks back. I cover my ears. The gunshots sound like small explosions when they echo in the tiny room, so close above us.

  Tattooed guy moves to the wall closest to the door. If they come back in shooting blindly, they’ll only hit us while he’ll have an extra second of response time. Bastard.

  “Shit. Lay flat on the ground,” I order Enzo.

  He complies just in time. We’re flat, face down on the ground when the room erupts. So many shots are fired, I lose count. I shut my eyes.

  Please, please God, let us survive this. Or at least let Enzo survive. You can take me, just let him survive. Please, please. I’ll do anything. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s still just a kid. Only fifteen. Please, God.

  And then there’s quiet.

  Well, relative quiet. Several men are in the room speaking some language I can’t understand. Chinese, maybe?

  Then someone grabs my arm and drags me to a sitting position. I try not to cry out, for Enzo’s sake. But when they grab Enzo and raise a gun to his head, I scream, “No!” and wrap my body around him before he can stop me.

  The guy who first grabbed me is a young Asian man with rounded baby-faced cheeks—completely at odds with his cold-blooded killer vibe. He looks to one of the others in the room and says something, then drops his gun.

  I glance at Enzo and his face reflects the same terrified confusion.

  Baby-face pulls out a cellphone next and says something into it, then looks down at Enzo and me.

  “Up,” he says to us in barely-accented English, waving his gun in an up motion as if to emphasize his point.

  I get up and grab Enzo’s hand. What now? I’ve heard some gangs do human-trafficking. Or God, Francisco was talking about a stable of women. Geishas, that’s what he called them. I shudder. Like I told Francisco, these bastards have another thing coming if they think for one second that I’m going to—

  “Move it. I don’t got all day,” Babyface says, swinging his gun toward the door in a hurry up motion.

  Which is when I fully take in the
room for the first time. Tattooed guy lies face up, so many bullet holes in him— Through his neck— And the blood, so much, on the floor, on the walls—

  I cover my mouth and nose with my hand and hurry out of the room.

  But oh God, it only gets so much worse as soon as we make it to the hallway.

  No. God had nothing to do with this.

  It’s pure slaughter.

  Bodies lie everywhere. I thought the blood in that small room was bad, but it’s nothing to out here. Right in front of me, a man’s intestines spill out of his ripped up stomach.

  “Shut your eyes, Enzo.” I pull him close. Even though he tries to push me off, I manage to grab the bottom hem of his shirt and flip it up over his head.

  “What are you—?”

  “Shut up, Zo.” My voice is shaking so hard, I barely make the words out. “Close your eyes and let me guide you. Trust me. You want me to forgive you, you let me do this.” It’s a low blow, but I won’t pull any punches if it means keeping him from seeing this.

  Enzo doesn’t say another word while I wrap my arms around his waist and lead him forward. Carefully, I edge us around bodies on the floor. God, even one on the stairs.

  Everywhere. Blood. Death. I barely get us to the top of the landing. The coppery smell of blood is so strong, especially in the confines of the stairwell.

  As soon as we make it to the top, I tell Enzo to stay put by the wall and I run to throw up behind one of the restaurant booths. Only to see there’s some guy slumped over the bench onto the floor, lifeless eyes staring vacantly up at the ceiling.

  My scream is more of a high-pitched whine.

  And then strong arms close around me.

  My mouth opens to screech in terror but then there’s a familiar voice at my ear. “Shh. Close your eyes. I’ve got you, honey. I’ll get you and Enzo to the car. I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  I look back in astonishment.

  At Kennedy Benson.

  Chapter 24

  SCARLET