Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  I excuse myself and am just exiting the kitchen when I bump directly into Vincent’s chest. He circles me in his arms, and I feel my body relax in response. All the tension from earlier evaporates as I rest my cheek against his warm and inviting embrace.

  “You know, when I bring you around my family, they’re always trying to steal you away from me.”

  I smirk. “Jealous?” I say peeking up at him through my lashes.

  He grins at me, “Very.” He shakes his head, as if to clear his thoughts, and then plants a soft sweet kiss at the tip of my nose.

  “My family loves you, Lenore. You’re—everything, you know that don’t you?”

  I blush ten shades of red as I revert back to shy Lenore. My blood rushes faster in response to his words. My lips part as I gaze upon his lovely face.

  “You have no idea what it means to me, to know that you love me, too,” he whispers as his lips brush against mine. I explore his mouth with my own. I’m on tiptoe, and he is stooping down to meet me. And I feel safe. I feel happy.

  I close my eyes, still too unaccustomed to saying the words out loud, and whisper, “I love you, Vincent” against his neck.

  He groans deeply as he scoops me up into his arms and carries me away from the kitchen. He practically runs up the stairs. He doesn’t put me down even when we reach the landing; I keep my eyes firmly fixed on his face.

  He’s so impassioned, so intensely sexy. What has he got in mind? We make it to the end of a dim hallway and he opens up a door. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights. He carries me to a simply furnished room with a queen-sized bed. He lies down on top of me, pressing me into the mattress. I don’t look about the room; I already know that it was once his. I can tell by the sense of calm it brings me.

  “Say it again, baby,” he whispers, “but... this time, I want to see your face,” he whispers. He flexes his hips and his erection digs into the thin material of my lace panties. My dress is already bundled up at my waist. Hungry, hot desire explodes within me. He digs into me again, imploring me to say the words.

  I swallow down the lump forming in my throat, and my lips part to accommodate my frantic breath. My hands clutch his firm forearms, I can feel his muscles even through the fabric of his shirt and blazer. This man that is still so new to me, this man who I have come to love...he’s everything.

  He pushes into me again, flexing his delicious hips against me, and I wrap one of my legs around him. Keeping my eyes firmly fixed on his, I take a deep calming breath and call upon all of my inner strength to say the words he wants to hear.

  “I love you,” I breathe out in a rush. I watch his eyes flame. His mouth is on mine before I can even blink, hot and wet. I part my lips and our tongues stroke as he pushes himself against me over and over again. Our bodies move as one. I bite his top lip as his fingers tear at the fine material of my panties, pushing them to the side. He inserts two fingers and I gasp and moan in surprise.

  “Mmm… Lenore, I love you. I love this,” he says as he strokes me from the inside. My eyes are glued to his, his blue eyes so bright they could light the sky. I drink him in. He continues his slow persecution. And I impatiently remove his blazer, he withdraws his fingers quickly as he slides his jacket down and throws it to the ground. I hastily unbutton his shirt, which he throws onto the ground as well. He lifts my dress up over my behind and rips the underwear right off of me.

  Those were so pretty! He catches the look of pity I give my tattered underwear on the ground beside the bed, “I’ll buy you another pair,” he says with a half smile as he frees his erection from his pants and slips himself inside of me. I gasp as I stretch for him.

  He groans again, deep from his belly, “You’re so wet, Lenore. You feel so good.”

  His words set me off all over again, my underwear forgotten as I raise my hips off the bed and push myself against him. He cradles my neck in one hand, and he pushes into me, deeply, roughly, relentlessly.

  I build quickly, my hands take hold of his beautiful face and I bring his lips down to mine, as he pounds into me over and over with an intensity I’ve never felt before. The thought that it’s my words, my feelings that have set this off, it’s a feeling far beyond any words. I rake my nails across his back and wrap my legs around him as I feel myself falling, falling and soaring as he takes me with him.

  “Vincent,” I gasp as I feel myself getting close, “I love you.” I feel my heart swell. He groans loudly in response as he stills and empties himself inside of me. I detonate around him. I feel myself shattering into a million tiny pieces. A wall crumbling down all around, I feel free, mentally, physically…and emotionally.

  I’m back on earth a moment later, my eyes flutter open. He’s still on top of me, still inside of me, and he is gazing down upon me in wonder and fascination.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lenore, I love you,” he whispers to me in the darkness. I feel myself blush. I don’t know what to do or say when he speaks to me so candidly.

  I reach up and tentatively stroke his cheek, his jawline, and his neck. He moves as if to pull out of me but I dig my heels into him, trapping him against me.

  “Stay,” I plead, he grins and we spend an hour in the darkness of his room kissing, and talking of his childhood. I’m unaware of when we both fall asleep, but I spiral into a blissful dream with my limbs draped around Vincent.

  When I wake, it’s still dark out, but I know we’re not alone. I sit up, Vincent’s arm falls from my chest as I rise. He continues snoring softly beside me. She’s there. Elizabeth. In her robe, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. How long has she been there?

  We don’t speak, not for the longest time. It wasn’t my intention to spend the night. How rude we must have seemed to poor Benny and Edmond, the thought is fleeting as I turn my attention back to Elizabeth. Should I speak first?

  “You’re not good enough for him, you should leave. You’ll realize that for yourself, Lenore. You’ll see how right I am.”

  My body tenses and stills, anger coursing through my veins. I do my best to remain composed. I don’t like the way she just said my name... Could she know? No. How could she?

  “Vincent seems to think I’m good enough, so why don’t you mind your own business?” I hiss back at her, I try not to wake Vincent, but perhaps I should. Is he even aware of how insane his mother is?

  She laughs. It’s a laugh that is so menacing it brings tears to my eyes, and goose bumps to my skin.

  “Then you leave me no choice,” she whispers in the darkness. She opens the door, shutting it softly behind her, leaving me reeling in the darkness.

  What does she mean? What does she have planned? I know she has something up her sleeve. I stare at the door minutes after she departs. I’m trying and failing to gather my wits.

  I look around the room, trying to grasp the meaning of her words. Vincent’s room is vast, but simple. All the furniture is dark wood, very square, and masculine. There’s a desk with a lamp and globe, a large closet and bookcase. There’s nothing personal really. I wonder if his things have been taken down. I look down at him, he’s oblivious to the volatile confrontation I’ve just had with his mother. Should I mention it? She’d probably just deny it to make me look a fool.

  I sneak out of bed quietly, and pull the soft grey and blue-checkered flannel comforter over Vincent.

  I need a moment to myself to process things. I sit at his desk, the wooden chair creaks lightly in protest as I lean back against it. On his desk is a small wooden picture frame. It’s a photo of him, and his brother... it must be Walter. They’re both riding horseback, Vincent wearing a large, red cowboy hat, grinning happily. Walter is more composed and serious. They’re both devastatingly handsome. I put it back on the desk as Vincent turns over in bed, reaching his arm out in search of me.

  You know what? Fuck Elizabeth. Two can play at this game. I won’t allow her to threaten me. I glance at the small digital clock on top of his desk. The red lights tell me it’s 7:15
a.m. I have a sudden and intense urge to go home.

  Chapter 30

  Vincent had an early meeting in downtown this morning. It’s New Year’s Eve. What could possibly be so urgent? I’m worried, but at the same time I feel safe knowing he took Dwayne and Lurch with him.

  I’m under strict orders not to go anywhere. I know his meeting has to do with the shooter, but his mood changes so drastically when I mention it, or ask him anything. So I reluctantly kept my mouth shut over our morning coffee.

  I just hope this shit is over and done with soon. I can’t stand being watched over 24-7. Feeling like I have to look over my shoulder. I’d like to think Vincent is just being paranoid, but I know better.

  I clear all of the plates and counter tops and head upstairs. I pause at the library doors. I don’t know if it’s because of the impending New Year, but I have had a nostalgic pang in my chest since I woke. This year has been an exciting one. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alive. I’ve never experienced as much as I have these past few months. It’s all because of Vincent. He has sparked something inside of me.

  I walk into the library and go directly to the closet that contains my small safe with my photos, mementos, and my dwindling cash. I pull the string dangling from the center of the closet, and the naked bulb casts a soft glow. The red suitcase is illuminated. It’s leaning lightly against the wall, and for some inexplicable reason, it sets off a twinge of anxiety in me. I don’t know why. Vincent said it belonged to his grandfather. I’m not sure if I believe him. It’s red. Doesn’t look very masculine.

  I peer over my shoulder, feeling like a child about to get caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I kneel down. I run my hand over my safe and then push it aside, and pull the red case towards me.

  It’s old; the leather is worn and cracked along the edges. I pull back the two golden clasps that pop the lock. I shouldn’t be doing this, I think to myself. But it’s like I can’t stop. I open it up and stare into the mess of papers inside. This is most definitely not a man’s case. Why would Vincent lie? And then leave it in here, not bothering to hide it?

  Maybe it’s because he trusts you not to go through his things.

  It’s too late now, I’m far beyond curious. My heart is thumping in my ears. This is wrong. But I need to know whose case this is.

  I pull out a file and set it aside. Looks medical possibly? But there are other things. A photo book, and what looks like a diary. For some reason, it looks familiar. I stare at it for ten minutes before I finally pluck up the courage to pick it up. I slide a few papers away, not bothering to read them. I open the small diary and feel a cold hard slap against my face.

  What. The. Fuck.

  24 de Deciembre 2001...

  It’s my mothers. This is my mother’s writing. Why? Why does Vincent have this?! My heart hurts, and my hands begin to tremble. I open up the file; it’s my mothers. It’s her medical file, her documents...mementos...

  Why?! Why does he have this? I put it aside and pick up another file. This one is lighter. I hesitantly open it. Fuck. It has MY birth certificate in it! The one with my real name! Oh, God. Why does he have this? I keep looking, very aware of the hysteria taking over me. There’s a will in here.

  It’s James’. Fucking James. I get up quickly, letting the papers and files drop to the floor. I run to our bedroom and start tearing the closet apart in search of the skeleton key that belongs to the desk in the library. I’m going to go through everything. Tear apart every file in here until I find some answers.

  I just know this is all tied together. James. The shooter. My mother. Me… Vincent. I know it. I open up his nightstand drawer and start throwing everything aside. There, in my face, is an unopened box of condoms. Shit! We still haven’t gotten around to sorting out birth control.

  I throw it aside, no time to dwell on that. I’m on a mission.

  A moment later, I find the key. It’s on a small keychain resting underneath all of his junk in his nightstand. I stomp off towards the library again, crunching Vincent’s reading glasses under my foot in the process.

  I sit at his desk breathing erratically, trying to steady my hands. I can’t get the fucking key into the keyhole because I’m trembling so badly. I pause a moment. A drink. I need a drink.

  I get up quickly, my body is not cooperating and I’m aware that my movements are all uncoordinated and mechanical. My joints are stiff and my legs feel like rubber.

  I open up his bar and scan the contents like a woman crazed with thirst. I’m going crazy. I feel it. The anger and disappointment inside of me is building up as each second ticks on. I’m going to flip the fuck out right now. I pour myself a glass of dark liquor and throw it back.

  Gah! It burns! My eyes fill with tears and I dash them aside. I fight back the urge to retch. This is meant to be sipped, I think as I slam the glass back down.

  I sit back down in front of the desk. The key slides perfectly into place as the alcohol is absorbed into my bloodstream. This is it. This is the second shoe. It’s officially fucking dropped. A stab of disappointment hits me hard, right in the gut. I hate it when I’m right. I pull out the files he has inside the bottom drawer, the ones he’s been examining almost daily.

  They’re James’, just like I knew they would be. They’re his financial statements. His accounts. There are several of them. All his paperwork of properties he owns, and his business... his business?

  I thought…

  My heart sinks and tears spill out of my eyes and onto the papers.

  All this time I knew James was into some dark shit. For sure drugs. But there’s more, so much more. He had factories. Warehouses. With hundreds and hundreds of immigrant women, working as seamstresses. That’s how he met my mother. But that was just one of his fronts.

  I flip through all of the papers, my eyes skimming over the words, catching the important bits. He was sex trafficking. These immigrant women were told they’d receive their paperwork...they’d receive jobs, when in fact many, if not most, were forced into prostitution.

  I barely make it to the trashcan. I vomit; I vomit until there is nothing left. Until I’m dry heaving, my body is racked with tremors.

  This is the case Vincent has been working on. This is why he is receiving threatening notes. James’s business partners are out to get him. Why on earth did he stick his nose into this in the first place? Is this what his grandfather needed help with? How are they connected?

  I get up slowly from the floor and grab a newspaper clipping from his files. This paper is several months old. I can barely read it; tears are clouding my vision. The article, mentions a huge bust on sex trafficking.

  Man Shoots Himself Before Arrest Can Be Made

  James. The piece of shit killed himself. I begin hyperventilating. I draw my knees up to my chest and duck my head between my legs and force myself to breathe.

  I have no idea how much time has passed. I’m disoriented. Confused...I peel my eyes open and I’m lying on the floor in a fetal position. The room is in disarray. I have to get out of here. I need to leave.

  My limbs feel heavy. Made of lead. I may have fainted. I need to go. I crawl along the floor, grab my mothers red suitcase and start stuffing things back into place. I take all of Vincent’s files and stuff them into the case, too. I need to read these papers over again. I need to get a better understanding. Once I’m calm. Once I’m sane. I go to my safe and grab my cash and stuff it into my mother’s little red case. I grab my passport, and all of my important documents too.

  A still calm takes over my body. I need to be quick; I can’t be here when Vincent gets back from his supposed meeting. What if he’s with them right now? What if he is with the fucking shooter, James’ business partner?

  Stop. Don’t dwell. Just get the fuck out.

  I run to our room and stuff underwear, jeans, and a few t-shirts into a backpack. I leave everything else behind. I grab my phone and house keys and put it into his desk drawer. I lock it with the skeleton key, an
d leave the key in the middle of his desk.

  Where can I go? Who can I call? Jordan will alert Benny. Kazumi? No. She and Vincent communicate often. Maggie...she can’t know.

  I’m on my own.

  I’ll go to a hotel. I rush down the stairs with my backpack and the heavy red case. I look into my purse and I pull out my ATM card. Vincent set up an account for me. I’ll take out whatever cash is there and combine it with what is left from my safe. With no money from the insurance, I’m not sure how far my money will take me.

  I know Vincent will worry. He’ll think something has happened to me, but I don’t care. I don’t want to leave him a note. I can’t. I can’t even believe what is happening. I can’t believe that he was involved in this. I was just part of his case, his investigation into James. But how is this tied to his grandfathers business? Why didn’t he tell me? I’m more involved than he let on. He knew all about me? Fuck. I choke back another sob.

  I rush down the hard packed dirt of the long driveway and instead of walking down the main road; I veer off onto the hiking trail. I know how crazy I must look, but thankfully there are very few people hiking this morning. If I take the Rattlesnake Trail, I’ll end up right on Turner Road and I can catch the bus there. Or call a cab.

  I walk clumsily up the last hill, practically dragging the red case behind me. Who knew papers could weigh so much. My mind is reeling. I feel hysterical. But I can’t let myself think what this all means just now. I know I need to be alone and in control first. Not out in public on a hiking trail.

  It’s no wonder Vincent never commented on my late night confession; it’s no wonder he never asked me anything at all. He already knew! By the looks of it, he knows more than I do. He knows more about my horrendous past than I do!