Here/Now

by D. D. Lorenzo

  He followed after her with an equally pungent indignation, his superior attitude continued to spew as she stomped to the door.

  “You have to think about shit like that before you just pick up and move away from everyone you know. You probably didn’t think about it. Like…, really thought it out.”

  She flung the door open, crashing it hard enough against the wall to send splinters of drywall flying.

  He continued after her, still barefoot and shirtless, as he followed her to the driveway. His rant continued.

  “I mean, did you really take all of that kind of stuff into consideration when you thought about what you were doing?!” he challenged.

  He reached for her arm, easily closing his fingers around her bicep.

  “AIMEE!”

  “WHAT?!”

  She ripped her arm from his grasp and turned to face him.

  He backed up as she charged against him like a bull, pushing both palms into his chest.

  “Don’t touch me! Don’t you DARE touch me!! I don’t want to punch you!”

  He smirked.

  She seethed.

  “Bastard!”

  Suddenly, her reaction seemed overdramatic—and exciting. He laughed at her. “So where ARE you living, doll face? Give me the address? You know… so I can check up on you?”

  His tone was so caveman and condescending. He was trying to make her feel inferior. To be the bigger, better… ick… man. Stupid son of a bitch! She didn’t find him amusing.

  “It’s a house boat, asshole. Shouldn’t be too hard to find!”

  She slammed the car door as he watched—still smirking—and still in those damn unzipped jeans!!!

  “Bastard!” she said inside the car to herself, but she could tell he read her lips by the way he was laughing.

  She gave him a big smile… and raised her middle finger!

  His laughing continued as she hit the button for the GPS. She wanted to go home.

  To HER home, damn him!

  The plush hotel suite served as a makeshift, albeit luxurious, office for Manny. He was comfortable enough with the space, but again, his patience grew thin with waiting. He’d timed his schedule in accordance with the hotel staff, but it was never punctual. Such lackadaisical business methods irritated him. It was unacceptable in his opinion. He liked knowing the weight of his expectations inspired people to do their best for him—or suffer consequences. Such was not the case here. Services such as meals, housekeeping, dry cleaning, and other incidentals were not up to par with his perfectionistic standards. This, however, was not within his control and he wore his aggravation with the same subtlety as a cake wore chocolate… tastefully.

  It was inconvenient, not being at home. He enjoyed the comfort of having his house staff surround him. His needs were anticipated and served. Of course, unlike here, his staff was intimidated because Manny lent an oppressive aura to every situation. It was simple; do what was expected of you, if not, suffer the consequences.

  A heavy knock interrupted his thoughts.

  Finally!

  He answered the door and turned away, not acknowledging the visitor. He knew who it was. There was only one person who ever showed up uninvited.

  Blade.

  “I have a few things for you to do,” he said. The other man closed the door behind him. Manny poured himself some coffee, but his guest declined.

  The dark, truculent man was an “enforcer”; a Columbian known simply as “Blade.” It suited him well, as it was his weapon of choice. Fists were messy. Guns not messy enough. There was a certain seductiveness to a honed piece of beautiful steel and Blade enjoyed an unnatural love for it. Blood fascinated him, especially when he compelled it to the surface of skin by a razor thin cut. It inspired him to create unique patterns, and bewitched him with the cries of his victims. Usually, in situations which required his particular method of persuasion, just a few of those lovely lines would serve to resolve issues between his human canvasses and Manny—especially if they were placed in the most sensitive areas. For those few who refused to cooperate, he found an orgasmic release by inflicting deeper, more effective slices. Begs of mercy were an aphrodisiac, seducing him as the beauty of the blood tarnished the steel’s luster. He was proud of his success rate. Over the years, he’d persuaded many people with his cutting skills. He looked at his unique designs as a work of art.

  The cartel was fertile ground for him. There were many would-be usurpers. It was almost unspoken law that you didn’t disagree with Manny. It was unacceptable and punishable. Blade had served Manny for many years with unquestionable loyalty. He had an eidetic memory. The pained expressions of his victims were some of his favorite recollections. Once the searing edge was applied to skin, each had a unique scream and he remembered every one. Manny gave him free reign with “rats”. Should a traitor be discovered, Blade always gave them a choice. Usually it was with regard to which appendage they would like to lose first before he killed them. As the head of a multinational cartel, Manny had larger issues to consider. He made friends as well as enemies through his daily tasks. For the more personal issues, he trusted Blade.

  Born and raised in Columbia, the man was a few years older than Manny, and it showed. Evidence of bullet and knife scars covered much of his desensitized body. He’d been a fighter since childhood which served to perfect the skills necessary to make him a valuable commodity within a ruthless underworld. His arms were stony, showing veins which bulged under the skin. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him for cushion. Notoriously quiet he unnerved his victims, but on those rare occasions when he did speak, his voice could cut glass with its insensate tone. As his employers took note, he had an impressive rate of success. His special talents also piqued the interest of a young Marianna, and he was convinced her admiration assured him security within the organization. She was, after all, the General’s daughter.

  Blade wasn’t aware of Marianna’s relationship with her father. He only knew she was beautiful, and she liked to watch him. He found her several times as she lurked in the shadows to study him. She seemed engrossed as she observed the labyrinth of blood patterns which were his signature, and once she was bold enough to tell him so. He loved spying on her in her hiding places, and never exposed her. His cutting skills seemed to enchant her. He was happy to have a kindred spirit. Her heart was as black as his.

  Those days were long passed. Carlos’ was a memory. Manny consistently called upon him when a situation arose to remove imminent threats to himself or the cartel. When Blade wasn’t carrying out specific orders he acted as a bodyguard. His protection of Manny insured his employment so eradicating any imminent threats to him was a job security issue.

  “I have a few things which require your attention.” Manny reached out his hand, encouraging Blade to take the seat across from him. “As you know, Mari has put herself in a precarious situation.”

  Blade nodded as Manny continued.

  “I have visited the attorney who represented her in the acquisition of property. Many properties. What I don’t know is why she chose real estate. It would be the least likely area I would expect her to put her money. I intend to find out why.”

  Blade smirked, anticipating Manny’s order. They’d been together so long he could almost predict his instructions.

  “Would you like me to pay her a visit?” he asked.

  Manny shook his head and placed the cup on the table between them.

  “It won’t be necessary. I’ll take care of Mari myself,” he answered. He was uncomfortable with Blade’s tone. It made him suspicious of his feelings toward Marianna.

  Blade indifferently shrugged his shoulders. There was a twisted side to him which craved to mark Marianna—just once.

  Manny was well aware of Blade’s thirst for blood, but he’d kill anyone who tried to degrade or mar her—including him. He became deadly serious.

  “I mean it. Do not visit her. She is my responsibility and legally my family.” He glared. “No one touches what
is mine.”

  Blade nodded, although he thought Mari could use some discipline.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked. “I mean, with the lawyer.”

  Manny exhaled, slightly frustrated. “First, I want to find out why Mari was buying all these properties. She isn’t one for responsibilities—and she sure as hell doesn’t need money! It puzzles me…”

  “So, you want me to see if the lawyer knows why she did it?” Blade asked.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “There might be some connection between the real estate and the charges against her, even if there’s a rumor. The lawyer has a secretary who looked like she might know something—anything. She might not, but you never know,” he explained.

  Blade smiled. Inner parts of the enforcer, moments ago dormant, suddenly itched with the prospect of bloodletting.

  “The man—the lawyer—I’ll find out what he knows” he informed. “What about the secretary?”

  Manny knew exactly what he was implying.

  “Keep it light,” he answered. “No marks.”

  His grin grew wider, and sharp teeth were now in full, ominous view.

  “You never let me have any fun,” he laughed barbarically.

  Manny chuckled with an equally malevolent tone.

  “Patience,” he advised. “I have bits and pieces of Mari’s story, at least the one she would like me to believe. I’m certain that somewhere between it, and the information you coerce from Dietz, will be the truth. I just need you to extract it for me.”

  Marisol sat quietly, the fabric of her Perkins uniform chafing her skin. Manny did the same to her patience. If he came for a reason he hadn’t divulged it. He sat across from her, smiling. As pleasant as he was to look at, her intuition told her to stay quiet and wait him out. The two stared in silent competition for several minutes. Finally, Manny broke the stillness, still smiling.

  “I’m working on getting you out of here,” he said.

  Marisol lit up with excitement. He put his hand up to her indicating she should maintain composure.

  “Don’t get too excited. You’re not getting out tomorrow.”

  Her smile quickly disappeared, a scowl replacing it. Manny chuckled at her schizophrenic change.

  “Ah! There’s my beautiful wife!” he teased.

  “Shut up, Manny,” she seethed. “You aren’t in this hell hole.”

  He stroked the back of her hand offering comfort.

  “I could get you out of here much faster… IF you were honest with me.”

  She glared at him.

  He gave her no more information, allowing her nothing more than his company. He wanted her to confide in him willingly.

  After several, strained moments, she realized that if she could stay composed, her plan to use him as a weapon of revenge could start as early as today. Promptly, she changed her demeanor to a more believable one of resistant, but obedient, wife.

  “What do you want to know?” she resigned.

  His warm breath bathed her cheek as he leaned into her. The momentary act of submission showed promise.

  “Well, love, to begin, you could tell me what you were planning when you began stockpiling real estate?”

  She shrugged indifferently, moving away from him.

  “I wanted to expand my interests.”

  “Really?” he laughed. “Try again.”

  She stared. This was going to be more difficult than she anticipated. She realized she was doing business with the devil, and he wasn’t easily swayed. She quickly changed tactics, thinking she’d manipulate him from a softer side.

  “Oh, Manny,” she sighed loudly. “I get it. You’re in control. You have me right where you want me, it’s just…”

  She managed to make herself a convenient victim and squeezed a tear from dormant ducts for effect. She never cried, as the sting from the tears confirmed, but the display showed promise. Manny’s attention was now undivided. “It’s just… you don’t know what it’s like to be me.” She cast her eyes down in feigned lament, seeking his pity.

  “Women are jealous of me, men want to use me and, now, the world thinks I’m a murderer,” she whined, lifting her gaze in helplessness. “I’ve had everything I’ve ever worked for stripped away from me…”

  Manny squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  He was buying it! She continued groaning for his benefit, while cheering inside.

  “Do you know what it’s like, Manny? To have everything stripped away from you? Aside from losing everything, I’m forced to live like an animal in a cage. This place is horrible!” She removed her hands from his and covered her face.

  He didn’t trust her, but her tactics were having an effect. It would do well to see how far she’d take this.

  “Awww… don’t cry, chica,” he consoled. “I’ll do everything in my power to have you released.”

  She suffocated a smile, replacing it with a sigh.

  “But what can you do, Manny? They say I’ll be here for years. I don’t think they’re planning to let me go for a long time,” she pleaded.

  “You have to tell me everything, Mari. There is no other option. I can’t compel the justice system to simply let you go—but—if you tell me the truth—all of it—I may be able to find a way to get you out. “Now,” he settled uncomfortably in the chair, “tell me what happened from the beginning. How did these men, Carter and Declan, manage to have you arrested?”

  Carter and Declan! Oh, no! I’m not letting him get to them until he takes care of the bitches!

  She stalled so she could quickly improvise.

  “I guess they were there when I was arrested, but I don’t believe they were the reason for it—at least, not entirely.”

  He was surprised. All of the information he had led him to believe the Sinclair brothers were out for revenge over the death of Carter’s wife.

  “Explain,” he said sternly.

  She stretched in her seat, buying time to come up with a plausible story.

  “Well, Manny… we’re married, but we’re not really… married,” she said coyly.

  He understood the implication. They both had other… liaisons. What she didn’t understand was exactly how married they were going to be. According to the law, decisions regarding her future rested in his hands. He crossed his arms.

  “Go on…” he encouraged.

  She contemplated how much she wanted him to know, and how she could spin it to her advantage, and weighed each word carefully.

  “Well… I dated one of the men—Declan—and another woman threatened our relationship.” She looked for a twinge of jealousy, but found none.

  “Aria?” he asked. “The one you attacked.”

  She immediately went on the defense. “The one I ALLEGEDLY attacked! Marchelle was very protective of me, and at times she pretended to be me,” she answered flippantly.

  Manny eyed her curiously. She was going to bring Marchelle into this?

  “We were in Hawaii,” she explained. “Declan and I were there for a reconciliation. What I didn’t know was that Aimee Vincent had become friends with Aria. They formed a plan to humiliate and discredit me in front of my business associates. Unfortunately, they were successful.”

  Manny glanced over at the guard. His anger simmered under a cool exterior.

  Composing herself, she sat erect and defiant. She was well aware that Manny struggled to believe her, but what she counted on was that he’d always been protective. She played to that particular weakness.

  “And why would this Aria and Aimee want to do you harm?” he asked, his tone grim.

  “Because they were jealous,” she exclaimed. “They wanted Declan for Aria. I was a threat! Don’t you see Manny? Aria thought I was stealing a man from her, and Aimee was so jealous of my success she stole my career, not to mention she was interfering in MY business! She’s a busybody bitch!!”

  Manny stiffened.

  “They got exactly what they wanted, didn’t they?” She complained so that he wo
uld see her disadvantage. “I mean, I can’t control how a man thinks… but Aimee has stolen my entire career from me… and I’m in here, while everything I worked for is gone.”

  She knew he wasn’t a fool. He would check out her story—but her story would check out! The facts were the facts… except for a few twists of the truth. Her confidence rested in his sense of loyalty. She knew he wouldn’t only avenge but protect. Her version of the events was enough to incite Manny’s retaliation.

  Pushing away from the table, a thin layer of arrogance coated his veneer. He thought that if she were to play her hand, it was imperative she use only one version of the story. He was sure this was an act, and he wasn’t sure how far she’d take it. He pressed further.

  “So what are you implying? That Marchelle was the one who harmed Aria Sinclair? Docile, little Marchelle?” he asked skeptically. “She was afraid of her own shadow, Marianna. You must take me for a fool.”

  She quickly defended herself.

  “She was very protective of me. You never understood us. She would pretend to be me simply to protect my privacy. If she even thought someone was threatening me, she would put herself in my place. You didn’t know that side of her, Manny, so yes. It IS what I’m saying! I am the victim here!”

  She was lying, but her story was plausible enough to plant a seed of uncertainty. This might be the key which would hinder anyone proving her guilt beyond reasonable doubt.

  He eyed her skeptically. “I don’t know, Mari.”

  “You weren’t there! It was crazy!” she blurted out. “Marchelle was in the midst of attacking Aria when I came into the house. She was like an animal! Once I heard the havoc she wreaked on the poor woman I ran outside to get help, or go to the police. I might have been angry with Aria, but I didn’t want her dead! Marchelle was out of her mind. I could hear her screaming at Aria! That was when I knew it was serious. I ran to find help. I couldn’t find Carter Sinclair, or Declan, and I knew they could help me save Aria. I didn’t know what Marchelle would do if she saw me, and I was scared. I wasn’t thinking. When I heard sirens coming from the direction of the house, I went straight to the hospital so I could see for myself if Aria was okay, and to intercept Carter. I wanted to tell him about Marchelle. I went to Aria’s room and no one was there. She looked uncomfortable so I brought her another pillow. When Declan came in, he assumed the worst and attacked me! He never gave me a chance to explain.”