WIFE FOR A PRICE

by Kathryn Thomas

  “Camille, you look like you’re going to be sick.” Shayna looked down at her friend.

  Camille looked up, and she felt another gush of tears overpowering her, she bit down on her lip to make it stop. “I’m fine, I just need some fresh air I think,” Camille said, and she felt Shayna’s hand on her arms. Shayna was pulling her up gently.

  “You’ve had a shock, you’ll be fine,” Shayna assured her as she tried to steer Camille away from the crowd.

  “That’s all for the night folks. You can direct all your queries and questions to Ms. Charlene Cummings. She is Evangeline’s assistant and will be happy to help,” Shayna then spoke to the crowd that was still gathered around them.

  Camille noticed Charlene, who she had met earlier briefly and spoken to several times over the phone before the exhibition. She swooped in and started talking to the interested buyers.

  “We’ll just let her handle it, for now, she can give us an update later. I trust her more than I trust that bitch Evangeline,” Shayna said, still walking with her arm around Camille’s shoulder.

  Camille felt unsteady on her feet. Where the hell was Devin? How could he have just left her here and disappeared? That was so uncharacteristic of him. Although did she really know him at all? Did she know anything about him other than what he chose to show her? Maybe he got bored here; maybe he had other things to do. And where was Evangeline? Were they together?

  “Hey, do you want to go to the police station?” Shayna interrupted her thoughts as they walked towards the front door of the gallery. Camille licked her lips and shut her eyes, then nodded in response.

  “Yeah, let’s go and report the vandalism at least.”

  They pushed through the doors and walked out into the cool but humid Miami night. There were still some cameras and paparazzi parked around the entrance, and a few flashing lights blinded them as they walked down the luxurious red carpet.

  She noticed Devin’s car still parked on the other side of the road, where he had left it when they arrived earlier.

  “His car is still here, Shayna. Where is he?” Her voice was breaking as she spoke. Camille could feel the panic rising in her veins.

  “Let’s just go and talk to the police Camille,” Shayna said, and they walked in the opposite direction from Devin’s car.

  ***

  They had been sitting on metal benches for over half an hour, waiting for somebody to attend to them. It was getting quite late now, and both of them were tired, exhausted from all the drama of that night and also aware that they now had no ride home.

  Shayna’s phone rang in her purse, and she answered the call. Camille sat by her in silence; she had no energy to talk anymore. She was worried, excited about the outcome of the exhibition, and saddened that all her art was ruined - it was a heady mix of emotions that she had no control over. But the worst of it all was that she couldn’t get that nagging feeling out of her bones that she didn’t know where Devin was. That he had left her there, stranded without support. And that he might have left with Evangeline.

  “That was Charlene.” Shayna had hung up the phone and had an encouraging smile on her face. Camille turned her tired eyes to her friend and tried to smile too, but she couldn’t.

  “She said that we sold everything and made more money than they had anticipated. How exciting is that Camille?!” Shayna hugged her, and Camille clung on to her friend for support.

  “Cheer up, please! This has been a good night, hasn’t it? It all worked out in the end, just when we thought that stupid bitch ruined it for us,” Shayna said, patting Camille’s arm. Camille only managed a weak smile and didn’t reply. Shayna was right, it had definitely been a good night career-wise, but she was too exhausted and too worried to think straight anymore.

  “I bet it was she who orchestrated it all. Evangeline. She did this to get back to you for stealing her ex-boyfriend,” Shayna said, and Camille couldn’t control it anymore.

  “What boyfriend? What did I steal? He isn’t even here anymore. Where is he? He just left me there!” Camille couldn’t help herself. The words came tumbling out of her before she could stop them.

  Shayna grabbed her by the shoulders again. “Get it together, Camille. I’m sure there’s a perfect explanation for all this. He probably had something urgent to do, some sort of emergency,” Shayna was clearly trying her hardest to change Camille’s mood.

  “He didn’t tell me anything about an emergency. He just disappeared. How could he do that? I shouldn’t have ever trusted him either.” Camille could feel the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes now. It had been too long; the night’s events had been too dramatic for her to hold back the tears any longer.

  “Look, Camille. Just give it some time. Maybe he’ll turn up. It’s only been a couple of hours. He probably had to be somewhere, and we were too busy. Have you tried calling him?” Shayna asked, and Camille nodded her head, wiping her cheeks at the same time.

  “His phone is switched off,” she replied, remembering the three times she called him and left voice messages too.

  “There you go, he probably had somewhere to be, and he’ll be back. You know how secretive he is about his work. He probably just didn’t want you to worry,” Shayna said, rubbing the back of Camille’s neck.

  Camille looked at her friend and realized how lucky she was to have her. She smiled at Shayna, and just then a male voice interrupted them.

  “You ladies waiting to file a report?”

  They looked up to find a burly police clerk holding a sheet of paper in his hands. He looked as exhausted as Camille felt. He too was having a long night, or perhaps he was just bored.

  “Yes, sir. Our artwork was vandalized at Evangeline Fox’s gallery. The lights were out, so none of the cameras caught anything and-” Shayna had spoken fast, and Camille was glad that there was finally someone to speak to them after waiting for close to an hour.

  The policeman interrupted Shayna by raising his right palm and cutting her off. “I don’t need to hear all the details. You have to file a report, so put it all in that,” he said, holding out the sheet of paper. Shayna glared at him and then grabbed it from his hands.

  “Can’t you record me or something? Do we really have to sit down and write all this down now?” She asked, shaking her head in outrage. The expression on the man’s face didn’t change. She didn’t affect him at all.

  “You’ll need to write it out if you want us to have a record of it, ma’am.” He had a bored, drawling voice. He was about to turn and walk away when Camille remembered Devin’s parked car outside the gallery.

  “I also have a missing person to report,” she added suddenly, standing up with a jerk. The policeman turned to her with a confused look on his face.

  “A missing person? Who is it?”

  Camille changed nervous looks with Shayna, who didn’t look like she was in support of what Camille was saying. But that parked car had left her with a bad feeling; she had to tell the authorities.

  “He’s my friend, his name is Devin. He was at the exhibition too, and he’s disappeared, his phone is off.” Camille’s words came hurling out of her, and her hands were shaking.

  The policeman’s big belly shook as he laughed.

  “Devin? Well, ma’am, your friend hasn’t disappeared. He’s probably just made a smooth getaway with a different woman for the night and hasn’t told you about it,” he said and didn’t wait for a response from her. He turned away from them, shaking his head, and continued laughing as he walked back toward an office.

  Camille felt like her whole world had come crashing down. The policeman’s laughter was still ringing in her ears as she slowly sat back down on the cold metal bench. Is that what had happened? Had Devin left the gallery with Evangeline?

  Chapter Twenty-Three Devin

  Devin blinked his eyes open. He had lost all track of time, and he could still feel that same dull ache at the back of his head. It was dark around him when he strained his eyes to open, and there was
a sound of dropping water from a leaking pipe overhead.

  The first sensation that hit him was a ferrying stench like he was surrounded by rotten meat or human flesh. Devin felt a shudder run down his spine as he blinked his eyes several times more, trying to adjust his eyesight to the dim light. It wasn’t pitch black; there were some rays of light coming in through the cracks in the ceiling overhead.

  He was alone. He was thankful for that. But he couldn’t be sure for how long. The sound of the dripping water was annoying, and he shook his head vigorously, but it only made the ache in his head worse.

  He realized that his hands were tied behind his back and he was sitting on a small low chair in the center of some sort of storage room.

  He had only one choice, even if it meant he might be inviting trouble.

  “Come down here, fuckers!” he yelled at the top of his voice, and it made his throat hurt. He yelled it again, and he heard his own voice echo and bounce off the dilapidated walls.

  There was the sound of a door being unlocked and then footsteps down some stairs.

  “Boss! He’s come to,” he heard a man’s voice say. He couldn’t see the face or trace the voice - it was too dark for that - and the voice was behind him somewhere. He was too immobilized to be able to turn his head either. He could only fidget in the chair. Whoever had tied his hands had done a good job of it.

  Then there was the sound of a shuffle of shoes down the same stairs. It was a group of people who were walking towards him now. Then the smiling face of Jimmy Figueroa appeared in front of him. Devin’s eyes had now adjusted to the low light, and even though he couldn’t see completely clearly, it was definitely the leader of The Choppers before him.

  Jimmy was dressed in a dark navy suit and a red silk shirt. He was an older man and very pale with a thin face and a goatee. Devin had never been able to stand him. And his suspicions were right; The Choppers had been behind his abduction. Jimmy was smiling wryly, no doubt chuffed that he had finally managed to pin Devin down.

  “Well, well, well. Look who has decided to finally join us… Welcome to your new humble abode, Devin Rock,” Jimmy said, slowly clapping his hands. He had three cronies standing behind him, with their feet spread apart and guns in their hands that were pointed at Devin’s head.

  Devin could feel his eyes burning, and he was sure that the back of his head, where he had been hit, was bleeding as well. But he glared back at Jimmy nonetheless.

  “Why am I here, Figueroa? To what do I owe this pleasure of our meeting?” He asked through gritted teeth, still trying his hardest to wriggle his hands out of the knots on his wrists.

  “Give up trying to escape, Devin. You’re going nowhere.” Jimmy grabbed his hands together behind him.

  “Did you destroy all that art? Was it your fucking men who did it?” Devin growled, and Jimmy laughed.

  “Of course it was. Anything to bring a frown to your face. Your new girlfriend handled it well, though, she’s a smart one,” Jimmy said, that sly smirk still on his face.

  Devin jerked his body in an attempt to fly at Jimmy, but he couldn’t move. His feet had been tied together as well.

  “You’re going to pay for this you bastard!” Devin screamed, but it only made Jimmy laugh more.

  “It’s cute when you try to struggle. I’ve always tried to remind you that resistance against me is going to be futile.” Jimmy took a few steps towards Devin and punched him in his face. Devin’s head twisted, and he felt the center of his lip split open and start to bleed. He clenched his jaw and looked back at Jimmy. He wasn’t about to give in, a few punches and blows weren’t going to break his spirit.

  “That is for what you did to my man on the beach,” Jimmy said with a wide smile.

  Devin’s nostrils flared as he looked back at the man, his lip bleeding, and his head throbbing.

  “What do you want Figueroa? Money? Is the business not going as well as you hoped?” he growled, and Jimmy raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. He turned to his men behind him, and they all exchanged smiles.

  “You think I want money? The money that you make by underwear modeling?” he asked, and they all laughed. The sound rang in Devin’s ears, and he had to do all he could to keep himself from fainting. His body was protesting against him. He was thirsty.

  “Then what do you want?” he demanded, and Jimmy walked towards him again. Devin didn’t flinch; he was prepared to fight this man to his death for what he had done to Camille’s art.

  “I want you to tell me just what you’ve told the police,” Jimmy said and punched him again. This time Devin’s chair toppled backward, and he felt his head crash loudly against the concrete floor. For a moment he saw Camille’s smiling face, her blonde curls and then there was darkness again. He had lost consciousness for a second time, and Devin had never felt this helpless before.

  ***

  Devin’s chair had been straightened, and he was sitting upright again. He could feel the crusty coagulated blood on his face. He was thirsty, his limbs were aching, and this time Jimmy Figueroa and his men were already standing there to greet him.

  “We were worried there for a second. You’re getting old Devin. Not able to take a few punches?” Jimmy laughed. Devin breathed in deeply. His head was swimming, but he remembered what Jimmy had told him right before he knocked him out.

  “Why do you think I’ve been talking to the police?” he asked, trying to get right to the point. He didn’t want to have to delay this any longer. He knew they weren’t going to kill him. That would start a club war and madness. They clearly wanted something.

  “We know you’ve been ratting on us to the cops,” Jimmy replied, and this time the smile on his face disappeared. He meant business. Serious business.

  “And if I was, how would you know?” Devin asked, raising his chin up so that he could look at Jimmy directly.

  “Because I have a source and they have confirmed it,” he said, bringing his face up close to Devin’s.

  Devin smiled. Now he knew exactly what they were talking about.

  “Is Evangeline your source?” Devin asked, and Jimmy clenched his jaw.

  “Yes, my beautiful new girlfriend. Soon to be wife,” he remarked and looked at his men, who nodded at him in support. Devin laughed.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Jimmy screamed, but Devin didn’t stop laughing. He knew it. He knew Evangeline had stirred the pot and started something.

  “And what makes you think she knows what she’s talking about?” Devin asked, the smile still on his face.

  “You still think she’s close to you and your friend. You tell her everything,” Jimmy said, and Devin grimaced.

  “I barely talk to her. She doesn’t know anything about me!” Devin screamed, and Jimmy shook his head.

  “I know you’re still crazy about her. You want her back. You’re trying to put me in prison so you can have her all to yourself again. But she’s mine!” Jimmy was like a mad man now. His eyeballs were pushed out of his sockets, and the vein on his forehead was pumping. He was enraged by the thought of Devin with Evangeline.

  “I don’t want her. She’s crazy. You two are perfect for each other,” Devin threw back, and Jimmy smacked him in the face again. This time Devin was prepared, and the punch didn’t land as hard on his face.

  “Watch yourself, brother. She’s my woman,” Jimmy said, and Devin narrowed his eyes.

  “What has she told you?” Devin asked, deciding to go with a different approach.

  “She told me everything. How you’ve been feeding the cops with false information about us. Pinning your own crimes on us. Giving them our location!” Jimmy screamed, losing his temper even more with every passing second.

  “And you got your men to follow me. Did they see me talking to any cops?!” Devin screamed again, but Jimmy wasn’t listening to him. It was obvious that only Evangeline’s words were playing in his ears. He was besotted with her. Obsessed. He could trust nobody else except her. Devin had seen this happen before, he kne
w what Evangeline was capable of - how she could wrap anybody around her little finger. Even a man like Jimmy Figueroa.

  “She’s playing you, Figueroa. She’s trying to start up a club war by pitting us against each other,” Devin said, hoping that the man would be able to see some reason. But Jimmy was still under Evangeline’s spell.

  “Why the hell would she do that? She has nothing to gain from doing that!” he yelled back.

  Devin knew Evangeline had her reasons. She was obsessed with Devin; she knew that he would never take her back so if she couldn’t have him… he needed to be punished. And the best way to do it would be to get The Choppers to do the dirty work for her. And Evangeline had another agenda too. Something that nobody else knew about. Something that Jimmy Figueroa wouldn’t believe about his angelic girlfriend.