by Amarie Avant
Later that evening, I receive a texted update from Bobby George that Whitson is home safe and has been watching TV all evening.
Lux bites her lip, looking over at me as we finish up dinner.
So, to steer her away from my business I ask, “Home or dancing?”
“Dancing!” Her face brightens.
Tonight, I don’t take any notice in the women trying to flirt with me. Really, I hadn’t done so when we went to the club with Suyoung and Graham. Luxury commands attention. She has this “fuck off” attitude with every female passing by. The club is crowded so she exudes hard charisma as I over tip one of the bra and panty-wearing hostesses for a seat.
The hostess places the few hundred dollar bills in her bra, smiles at me asking, what I would like for bottle service.
Luxury, all though entirely tiny even in the Burberry heels, steps in front of me and makes a response. The hostess turns around with a smirk.
“Sit down, Victor,” Luxury commands, pressing her tiny palm into my chest.
I take a seat on the leather couch, and her lips quickly reach mine. “You better not tip that disrespectful bitch either,” she warns.
“Whatever you wish,” I reply, as Lux continues to kiss and bite my bottom lip. Her aggression turns me on as bright dotted lights echo off every contour of her body, while Lux dances just for my enjoyment.
A few drinks later, Luxury has my manhood straining against my trousers as she gyrates on top of me.
“Lux,” I whisper into her ear, as she kisses on my neck. “Keep on and I will fuck you right here, in this club.” She gives a tipsy giggle and I grab her cheeks, kissing her lips hard. “No, I am serious.”
I pull Luxury down on top of me, so she knows exactly what I mean. She moans after realizing how hard she’s gotten my piece. “Vic, take me home,” Luxury begs between kisses.
It's just past one a.m. when we start out of the club. Though Luxury is part-sleepy part-drunk part-operating on anger toward her father, her fuel is beginning to run low. But she still promises to fuck me tonight.
“You’re going to fuck me, huh?” I stop her right at the corner, grab as much of her ass in my hands as I can. “Luxury, I will put your sexy little body to sleep.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. We kiss even more, until my phone begins to buzz in my pocket. Wondering if it’s Bobby George with another update, I pull it out and see Madeline's number. Loyalties tell me to answer. Luxury is becoming annoyed, but I owe Madeline.
“Not too many people call after midnight. Don’t mind me.” Lux folds her arms.
“Just a sec,” I reply, even though it’s impossible to placate two women.
We’re standing outside in the crisp night air, waiting for a taxi. I gather a few paces for space. I keep an eye on Luxury as she stands beneath a streetlamp, and then I answer.
“Victor?” Madeline says. “Thank goodness you answered. Has your plane been delayed? Where are you?” There’s this hope in Madeline’s voice that pales even more. The years have not been good to us.
“Can't make it, Madeline.” I hold the receiver up to take a deep breath, feeling bad for hurting my friend. Every time I bring her pain, I recall the first time she was there to help bandage me up after one of Father’s thrashings.
“Wh...Why not? You've been avoiding me for long enough. Victor, you're wise when it comes to D'Ross Enterprises–though you do skirt the line by being away so much. I'll even say very much so, when it comes to being Duke of Arlington–if and when you ever come home. Yet, your favor with The Queen allows you to thwart your royal duties and go traipsing across the world!” Madeline has this hardness that I’ve gifted her with. After years of knowing me, bitterness has begun to twine around her spirit. A spirit that reminds me of Luxury and her beautiful laughter.
However, I am the byproduct of a womanizing child beater and a woman blinded by perfection, my parents cold war has made me into the man that I am today. I am a powerful businessman and connoisseur of murder. My presence has changed Madeline for the worst; it is capable of doing the same to Lux after a time.
Madeline finally reclaims some of that innocent, soft tone, asking, “Do I not mean anything to you?”
“Maddy, you are my longest friend,” I begin. “Yes, why would you ask?”
There’s a silence that makes me pause to look at the iPhone screen and make sure Madeline hasn’t hung up. Then my eyes are back on Luxury. She’s staring up at me from her out of earshot. There’s a quick glimmer of learned distrust. Wow, it took Madeline years to glance at me like that. Damn, am I doing this to Luxury, too?
“Vic,” Madeline starts, as if it hurts just to say the words, “Should I ask if your delay has to do with a female?”
“I'll be in England by tomorrow evening.”
“That's great because the newspaper announcement of our set marriage date is ready to be delivered from Arlington to Cambridge! All the way to Camden!” My fiancée provides in a condescending tone that she’s begun to practice in the past few years. “Victor, you can do anything but your title right! I’m sorry for saying as much, but as your friend, I would be wrong if I didn’t say so. Now you’ve always been a man of your word. I’ll operate under the guise that you honestly couldn’t get here this morning, because of something beyond your control…”
Damn, if I want the world handed to me at a certain point in time, it would be at that exact second. Risk assessment coordinators, financial advisors, business wiz’s, I spare no expense or lack of knowledge when it comes to my desires. Madeline rationalizes this for me. I have no desire to break her spirit further.
“Victor, I’ll tell Princess Mary, okay?” Madeline provides this bit of friendship, hopeful that telling Mother of my delay will salvage our relationship. Maddy has made favors all our life. Even going so far as accepting an open relationship that we have now, just to pacify me. When all she wants is me.
“Victor, tomorrow, before the first course is served, I will see you?”
The uncertainty is there, but the commanding in her tone tells me that Madeline has had enough. So, I agree and we end the call.
“Victor, are you having girl problems?” Luxury asks hand on her hip.
“We need to have a serious chat when we get you home.”
“No,” she rolls her neck. “We’re going to have it now!”
I look around. It’s too late, and the conversation is too important to have out in the dark. “Not now, Luxury!”
“Oh, what happened to little one? Easy to manipulate little one. Huh?” God, how she does play the part dressed to the nines and with an attitude to boot.
Luxury starts to slap at me but hurts herself on my forearm when I put it up in defense.
“Owe! That hurt.” Luxury pouts.
“You hit me!” I snap, trying to come to terms with how much I like the cheeky girl.
“So?” She folds her arms. “And that’s another thing. I’m so tired of you keeping secrets and lies–”
“Luxury, we will talk about this later,” I begin, as a car creeps by.
“We don’t need to talk later.” She begins to walk down the street, while shouting over her shoulder, “I feel like walking. Maybe on my way home, I’ll teach you a thing or two. For starters, learn how to pay your debts!”
“Debts?” Now I’m following her, not entirely aware of my surroundings as I’m accustomed to, because she’s consuming me with these illogical allegations.
“Hello, Victor, $500 grand’s!”
“500 what?” I shout so hard that Luxury’s bones jump in fear.
She pauses for a second, as if recollecting her thoughts. Then exclaims, “Thousand dollars! You owe someone $500,000 but would rather spend it on something so stupid as this dress,” Lux looks down at herself, then points at me, “And that fucking suit!”
“What are you talking about? Oh…” Actually, I know exactly what she’s talking about. Damn, she had been listening to my call with the contact from X-Member.
“I’m betting you’re spending so much money on a lifestyle, and to impress the next cutie that walks by, that me and the girl on your cell phone are the only ones suffering. I feel sorry for any woman that has crossed paths with you!”
“Lux!” I snap, but she’s already walking again.
Lux moves as quickly as her short legs will go. So, pissed that she isn’t aware of her environment.
A male and female, jogging, past midnight, comes toward us. Both wear dark sweat suits, about 5’5 each. They represent a man and wife assassin duo. My eyes connect with the husband’s. His steely gray eyes that catch the moons reflection. Instantly, my hand goes for my waistband. Nothing is there. I left my desert eagle in the car before we went into Burberry. Damn, Lux! Trying to make sure she enjoyed the day, I didn’t stay prepared.
“And another thing,” Luxury turns around.
She speaks. I’ve tuned her out. The guy is less than ten yards away. Coming at full speed. Lux has a one-track mind. He goes for the weapon in his hoodie. Sidestepping her quickly, I throw a quick jab. It connects with the jogger’s nose.
“Victor!” she shouts, starting to turn around. “Listen to me!”
The jogger is unprepared and easily fazed by the punch. My hands wraps around his neck. I snap it.
The wife who usually is quick to react is on pause. Her heart breaks as she watches his body fall. Before he hits the ground, I snatch the gun from the front pocket of his hoodie. As she stares, I squeeze two rounds into her forehead before her roundhouse kick can even leave the ground.
Luxury
Fear can cling to you. Instantly paralyzing your brain. Entire body shut down. Go figure I’m finally in that state of catatonia. Where I wanted to be while waiting for Victor. When I didn’t want to consider anything while Victor was away. Now, I can’t move.
There's an echoing sound of someone’s neck snapping.
Then Victor draws a gun. Where the fuck did that gun come from? It just appeared. What’s more jaw dropping? Vic shoots a female jogger. She was just running past with her mate. Now her body pulsates as two bullets rip through her skull. Before her body finds its final resting place, Victor has claimed another soul. A bum across the street; slumps over his shopping cart.
Then his gun–which I still can’t comprehend how it got here–comes toward me. He lets off another round of shots. My eyes close.
…
Cool air floods my lungs. I’m still breathing. It’s dark. I’m too afraid to open my eyes. And I'm too afraid to move. I raise my lids one at a time.
God, my body shakes like a leaf. Gradually, I turn to see a fourth person. A construction worker is lying in a chest full of blood.
Blood.
Mom…
There’s no time to blink.
“Help!” I start for the alleyway. Don’t ask. Not the smartest idea. But that’s the direction that my feet were standing.
My luck finally turns, and I see a figure down a ways.
“Help!” Silently I pray. My stilettos pound the pavement. A dude with a puffer jacket and saggy jeans starts toward me.
CLICK. CLICK.
The sound of Victor’s gun snatches away my air. It must not have any more bullets.
“Hey lady,” the guy from down the alley calls out to me. From the busted out and dotted lampposts, I can see that this guy plans to save me!
From Victor!
Now I’ve put his life in jeopardy. Somehow, I have to get the fuck away from Doctor Finch!
Victor
“Lux, Luxury,” I shout as she continues to run.
The assassin is here for me and not for her. I’m running at top speed and in the hardness of the night. There’s a glimmer of something shiny when the guy unzips his puffer jacket.
He watches Lux run, with disinterest for a second. Then his soulless eyes are on me. Less than a second later, his puffer jacket is off. A row of jagged knives is holstered at his chest. He snatches one out. With the flick of his wrist, the first knife comes zipping into my direction. Swoosh, the ultra-sharp knife soars past my ear. Then another misses me by a long shot. One pierces straight into my bicep. Adrenaline on high, I can’t feel anything. But at least four inches have dug into my bicep. I snatch it out, and it clanks to the floor.
Before he can take another knife from the holster, I hit the assassin with an uppercut. He goes spiraling backwards. His legs start shuffling backwards as he tries to right his feet and pull out a knife. We tussle. I hold his arm away from his body. Then we fall, I can see Luxury only a few yards away. Only a few seconds have passed.
She looks back and pauses. Concern for me? Her brain reacts, and she takes off.
With us interlocked arms, it’s hard for me to get the upper hand. It’s hard for the other assassin to get back to the beloved knives at his chest. With my weight, I bring him down. My hands grip his head and I bash it into the asphalt. One thud. Two. He’s dead.
It’s less than a minute when I catch up with Luxury.
~~~
–Now, we’re caught up to speed?
Whitson, Lux and I are sitting ducks. A sharp shooter begins to target the open living room.
Lux is wedged between the couch and I. My eyes lock onto Luxury’s, pull her in, and calm her troubled spirit. “Lux, right now I need you to be that cheeky, confident young woman I first met. No fear.”
She nods with a renewed sense of courage. Whitson crawls toward the front door, which offers less of a visual.
I won’t have Lux chance it. So, I command, “Stay.”
Lux doesn’t move. Maybe she’s processing the fact that the sniper is here for Doctor Whitson. She’s too afraid to move.
“Whitson, where’s your gun?” I ask.
“Right there, lodged in the side of my lazy boy,” he replies, holding the cut at his ear. I crawl over. Reach my hand into the side of the lazy boy. A Smith and Wesson handgun goes into my suit jacket.
On my hands and knees, I move around the various African artifacts, and to the window. With my back leaned against it, I grab a mirror from my inside pocket. Slowly, I lift the mirror to the large window above. Right outside, I try to quickly catch the sniper’s location before he catches the reflection of my hand mirror.
Bingo.
BLAP. Goes the sound of the Barrett M107.
Another .50 Caliber bursts through the window. With precision, the bullet would have taken my hand off, if I hadn’t quickly put the mirror down. I crawl exactly two feet to the left, lift up my gun and shoot. Then I crawl another four feet back in the opposite direction to have a safe place to look up and make sure the target is down. Through my hand mirror, I see the hit man’s body slumped over the side of the building.
Taking a deep sigh, I sit back.
Yes!
“Whitson, Lux,” I begin in a precise tone, “We need to leave.”
I’ve just murdered the sniper whose talents were comparable to my own. There will be more. After Whitson, or me who knows? But they will come. It’s silent as I push open the door to the loft. I do a quick entryway check. Father and daughter are huddled together just inside, when I say, “Let’s go.”
We get onto the elevator
Soon as we make it outside, a cop points his Beretta at me.
“Freeze!” a guy shouts in a shaky voice. With the uniform on, clearly he is a rookie cop.
Lux holds to me tighter. Whitson holds a notepad in his hands even tighter.
“Luxury Whitson, Doc, Detective Caruso sent me to keep you safe,” the cop says. The look in his eyes, says he’s been following for a while, but too afraid to step up.
“The hell of a job you’re doing!” Whitson snaps.
“Hey, I’m–”
My ears pique, “Shut the fuck up,” I tell the cop before he can finish his retort.
Another gun goes off. Luxury’s cries overpower the weapon, while Whitson clutches his chest and falls forward.
The cop’s shaky gun comes up toward me again. But I
shot the assassin who is standing behind the cop and was getting ready to take him out too. Then I run to Lux as she falls to the floor, in this heart-wrenching sob for her father.
Fuck.
I’m not the hero after all.
Lux
We're surrounded by strong disinfectant hospital scents. Detective Caruso stands at my side as we look into the open blinds of my father’s hospital room. Dad’s notebook is in my hands, and I clutch it tightly. I had refused to turn it over to the police. Caruso has been very lenient with me. Especially since finding out that Victor is with the Feds, having to do with some sort of assassination ring. Besides the leather-bound notebook is filled with codes and words that make not a lick of sense.
“So, someone sent assassins to murder your father?” Caruso says.
I shrug my shoulders and sigh. I’ve heard of more money, more problems. But more brains?
Seriously.
Detective Caruso turns around to look at Victor, who’s standing across the hallway in this stance that implies that I should have known he wasn’t a doctor from the start. His rough hands, and there are a few delectable, highly distinguished scars on his muscular body. A doctor? Really, that served his purpose to find out who was targeting my father.
“Special Agent Gary,” Caruso addresses Victor, “I would like to be a liaison with the feds if needed.”
He shakes Victor Gary’s hands. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it won’t,” Caruso sighs, “You guys are in a class all of your own. But I’ve known Miss Luxury for a while, so I’m vested in her safety. I’ll go ahead and ask, do you have a potential suspect?”
“No,” Victor replies looking him dead in the eye.
Caruso nods and addresses me again, “Luxury, you have my number if you need me.”
I nod. Soon as he leaves, I run into Victor’s arms, my head burrows to the muscles of his strong chest and I breathe easy. Daddy will be okay. The surgeon said that time would heal, especially after such a lengthy surgery. So, all I need is this man right now. My rock.
Victor
As Luxury’s tiny body forms against mine, I close my eyes and take in my feelings for her. When we first met, I was spellbound. How she explained crying and tears to me was quite baffling. It has become so much more than just the sex, then just owning her. So, I have decided to tell her the truth.