by Laura Rossi
Eastern European.
“Your sad eyes. That would explain it,” I told her, straight to her face and she looked down, hiding the glimpse of a smile.
“Usually brides are radiant,” Blondie said and I smiled a little.
“Only if they don’t know what they are getting into,”
I watched her blink at me a few times, her face serious, her eyes dark.
Sad Eyes.
“You seem to know a lot about marriage. Are you married?” blondie asked, playing with the camera in her hands.
I shook my head. “I see married people every day. I see what they do, what they come looking for…” I said to her and I didn’t have to go into details. She knew what I meant, I could tell by how she was looking at me.
Drug addicts, prostitutes, gamblers. And the married ones are the worst sinners.
“Did you like the show?” I asked and watched her shake her head slowly.
“I didn’t even watch it.”
My eyebrows went up. Blondie was brutally honest, I gave her that.
“Why are you here then?” I pressed on “Aren’t you here for the blood?”
“Blood?”
“Everyone comes here for the blood. Admit it or not, that’s why they love to see me fight, to see us fight. They want blood.”
“Is that why you do it? Cause you are thirsty for blood?” blondie teased me, her face solemn, her eyes cold.
“No,” I shook my head and told her the truth. “I do it for money.”
“Money for blood,” she corrected me, but I spoke up fast, before I lost her attention.
“No, money to survive,” I paused. “Blood is something that happens, while I struggle to survive. That’s how things go here in The Market. You need to ‘fight’ to stay up or else you get smashed on the ground.”
“Well, I am not here for the show or for the blood. I have had too much blood shedding in my life already.”
“I know how that feels,” I said and she stopped moving. Blondie turned to look at me again. “Do you?” she tilted her head to the side and her eyes dug into mine.
I had her full attention now.
“I learned to fight on the streets,” I told her, while I nudged Delia for more rum. “And I learned it the hard way.”
The hardest way. I was the prey, the victim.
“There is no easy way,” blondie told me and I could not help agreeing with her.
There was no easy way- no easy way out of the street, no easy way out of the misery.
“You are not here for the show, not here for the blood…Why are you here then?” I pressed on. I wanted to keep her talking, her voice so hypnotic, I kept looking at her lips wanting more.
Blondie took in a deep breath before answering my question.
“Freedom,” she whispered.
“Freedom?” I repeated, stunned. Not the sort of answer I was expecting.
Nothing about blondie was common, not her voice, her looks, not even her answers.
“Yes, freedom. We never truly understand the word freedom, until we lose it. That is when we mourn it. And it’s too late.”
“It’s never too late, to take back what’s yours,” I spoke up, never looking away from her.
God, her eyes were mesmerizing. They seemed so cold and distant, and yet they burned their way into me, my stomach clenched.
Sad Eyes shook her head.
“It’s not that easy, Killer,” she said and I enjoyed the roughness of my name on her lips. “You should stay away from me, you are playing with fire.”
I smiled and just stared at her in silence for a few instants.
It was so rare to meet someone with the power to stun me like that, the way Sad Eyes was doing. Words were never an issue for me, I always knew how to snap back, always had the perfect answer ready.
“Beautiful women, angel faced like you usually are. Dangerous like fire,” I spoke my mind a smug smile spread across my face. “Do you know why they call me the Killer?” I asked and watched her shake her head, her thin, red lips sealed. “Because they say I am fearless, cold blooded.”
“People also say the most innocent face is also the deadliest,” Sad Eyes was quick to retort.
She’s good- I thought, knowing exactly what she meant.
Her looks, her delicate features lured you in. I could see why many men would have gone crazy for her, totally out of their fucking mind for her. There was something about her, that pulled you right into her lair.
Something flickered in her eyes then, I noticed her looking down to my lips for a moment before glancing away at her friends.
The girls were still drinking, talking to some men at the bar and giggling in between shots.
“You are wasting your time, Killer,” her attention back on me. “I am not your next lay, not your deal for the night.”
“I know,” I said, rubbing the liquor off my lips.
“You know? Then why are you wasting your time talking to me?” she asked, holding my stare.
I smiled a little, leaning on the bar, looking around us for a moment before speaking again.
“It’s never a waste of time to sit at a bar with a gorgeous woman like you. A man can dream, can’t he?”
Sad Eyes blinked at me, speechless. I bet she didn’t know what else to tell me, to make me back off. In truth, I hadn’t openly made a move on her, it wasn’t that simple, making a move on someone like her. Five minutes into the conversation were enough for me to realize that.
Sad Eyes was tough to impress.
“A lot of men here are probably thinking the same thing,” I went on, looking around for a moment, catching people staring at us.
How could they not? Blondie was a sight for sore eyes.
“That’s because you all share one big brain. You all think alike,” she mumbled under her breath and I chuckled, agreeing with her.
We did, most of the time. But I always thought that when it came to sex, men could be divided into two big groups: those that would do anything to get laid – even pay for the service- and those that liked to do it the good old fashion way. Follow the sparks. I wanted sex, the real thing.
“Most of the time,” I spoke my mind. “It would be a lie, if I told you I wasn’t curious to find out what your lips taste like, what your skin feels like”
What YOU taste like.
Blondie sucked in a breath and looked around, a little nervous now for the first time since I had started speaking to her.
Before she could say anything else, one of her friends wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giggling and losing her balance as she did.
Blondie held her up and guided her on the stool.
Her friends wanted to move, they wanted to change club. Maybe a strippers’ club now.
They had seen the blood, they had seen the hot men fight. It was time to see some hot men strip.
“Time to go, Andrea,” the tall ‘bride to be’ took her by the hand and winked at me, as she smiled wide.
Andrea, I made sure to remember her name, to remember those eyes- cold, blue, sad eyes.
“Maybe I’ll see you around some time, Andrea,” I waved at her friends, but kept my eyes on blondie.
“Maybe,” she mumbled and gently pulled down at her dress, as her long legs slid off the stool.
Long, sinuous, smooth as silk legs, my eyes couldn’t help but notice. I had to fight the urge to trace my fingers up and down her thighs.
There was something in the way Andrea kept staring at me, that made me want to keep her there for another minute- another word, another glance. I knew I had to keep her from walking away from me.
More, I wanted to know more about blondie, about those sad eyes.
I wanted to find out just how deadly someone so deliciously sexy like her could be.
Maybe it was the alcohol, the adrenaline still pulsing in my veins after the fight, but I knew I had to try to make her stay.
I wanted to take her upstairs with me, I wanted to make her mine. I won
dered how gut clenching her moans were, how her hair smelled. I fantasized about those thighs wrapped around my hips.
“Or you could stay here. Say goodbye to your friends. Stay for another drink and enjoy your newly found freedom,” I kept my face serious this time, never looking away from her.
“I am not free,” Blondie broke it to me without sugar coating it.
“You are with someone?” I asked the obvious and watched her nod, her face glum, eyes pitch dark.
“Well, Andrea,” I began to say, while she took her clutch. Hearing me call out her name, made her head snap back up. I spoke slowly, making sure she heard every single word I was saying “If you were mine, I would make sure you smiled every day. I would never let you walk away from me without a smile on your face.”
She pursed her lips and then moved a little closer, this time her eyes weren’t so sad.
I saw fear, I saw terror in the blue darkness within them.
“It was nice meeting you, Killer,” her throaty, sexy voice came out shaky, a little broken.
She turned on her heels and was about to walk off, when I saw her turn my way again, her long blonde hair swaying behind her back.
“Are you?” Andrea asked and I tilted my head to the side a little.
“What?”
“Cold blooded?” she asked and I shook my head slowly at her.
“Nothing is what it seems,” I told her and saw her nod.
Then, she walked over to her friends at the end of the counter without saying another word.
“Hey, man,” Joe said, patting my shoulder. “I have the money from your winnings and look at that,” he pointed behind his shoulder but I hardly turned to look.
I was still eyeing Andrea, as she and her friends were making their way to the exit.
Three girls were standing at the other end of the counter, waving and giggling.
“What do you say we take the ‘winnings’ to my place, huh?” Joe smiled wide.
They waved at me and I nodded.
It was like any other night. First fighting, then fucking.
But I barely even looked at the girls. I kept my eyes on Andrea as she walked out of the club and I noticed two dark men, dressed in black follow her out.
Chapter 3
The Prisoner
Andrea
Stop thinking, stop thinking. Stop thinking- I told myself again and again.
One of the girls laughed and everyone else followed, so I smiled a little, pretending I had heard the joke. I was pretending. Pretending I was part of the group, pretending I was happy, pretending everything was okay, that I was still me.
I was gone.
The wind hit my face as soon as we stepped outside the fight club and all the girls started complaining about how cold it had suddenly got.
I breathed in deep and smiled a little- for real this time. This was nothing. It was just November in Italy.
They should try Hungary this time of the year, I said to myself and I breathed in the chilly air again, welcoming the sharp stings to my skin, as memories flashed in my head – memories of my parents’ driveway covered in snow, my mother’s hot paprika soup, my father’s rosy cheeks.
I was gone, but the memories kept haunting me.
Two years since the last time I had seen them, two years apart and still my mind wouldn’t stop torturing me.
I looked down at my ankle boots and kept my coat closed tight. I suddenly felt my entire body shake, but it wasn’t for the cold even though I told my friend Sarah it was.
She had seen me shake and I had played along. I had managed a little smile and she had taken my arm. She was cold too, she had said to me, smiling wide.
I was pretending, I had been doing that for so long.
I hadn’t been home in years and I had never felt so far away from everything, so far away from my family, my loved ones. I had never felt further away from fleeing this life.
I was trapped.
The loud footsteps behind my back were a constant reminder of my entrapment.
It was as if I walked with a crystal, shining cage around me.
The guards were always with me, always breathing down my back. I was a prisoner and it was only my fault. I had stepped into the lion’s cage, thinking it was going to protect me, to comfort me and love me, but I ended up being just its toy.
Nothing is what it seems -that guy in the fight club, that fighter, the Killer had said to me minutes before and that was exactly why I was trapped.
I was a victim of deception.
“Hurry, you guys!” Alice shouted up front and Sarah and I tried to keep up the pace.
Someone told Alice not to worry. We weren’t exactly late for anything; strip clubs were open until dawn and it was only one o’clock. And the club was only around the next corner from the fight club. I could already see the sign.
‘Hot and bothered’ Strip club for women. I read it and felt my pulse pick up. Women only.
I eyed the two guards behind me and closed my eyes in a silent prayer.
“No men allowed inside,” the bouncer said immediately, as the two men tried to follow me in.
At first, they gave me a worried look and tried to talk their way in but the bouncer wouldn’t hear of it, not even when one of the guards offered him money.
The men stayed outside, there was one exit anyway so they would see me after the show was over.
I hid my excitement as much as I could, keeping my face straight, while my heart thumped wild in my throat.
Pretend, pretend.
We were inside the club, the first show was on, and I was alone for the first time in two years.
I felt like my chain had suddenly become longer. I could move around without being constantly spied upon.
Sarah knew me too well, she took my hand and asked if I was alright. I was sweating a little.
“I am okay, Sarah,” I reassured her, looking around.
They say freedom is a breath of fresh air, but my moment of freedom smelled of alcohol and smoke. I felt lightheaded.
They are still waiting for me outside, it’s a temporary thing. It’s just an illusion. I tried to calm down, but my hands were prickling.
Restless was an understatement.
I needed to do something. I needed to make the most of it. This was it, the one time I got to be Andrea Szerov again. And probably the last.
As my eyes scanned the place, I couldn’t stop thinking of the conversation I had had before in the fight club- the conversation with the Killer.
“If you were mine, I would make sure you smiled every day. I would never let you walk away from me without a smile on your face.” I closed my eyes for a second and pursed my lips.
I cursed under my breath, as I told myself to stop this- whatever was going through my head- immediately. Hope, it was hope that I was feeling, despite how dangerous I knew hope was.
Hope had tricked me, just as much as deception.
I had hoped for things to change. I had left my home, my country in search for better things and what had I achieved? Nothing.
I had lost my freedom, I had lost myself. Hope was deceitful, it was a lie, an illusion I was so incredibly naive to believe was real.
He was just trying to get me in bed with him, I told myself as I thought about the Killer again. I knew that, I knew that was why he had wasted his time on me.
We all say and do things to get something in return. We wear masks and work hard for what we desire. The end is important, not the means.
I was aware of it all and yet I couldn’t shrug off his wide shoulders, his full lips and dark skin- the way he smiled, his chocolate brown eyes on me the whole time.
I had felt stripped, beautiful and free.
It’s never too late to take back what’s yours- I closed my eyes, as his words came back to me. I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe it was true. Even if just for a moment, even if it meant nothing tomorrow, I wanted to believe I could be free again.
Free to live.
I wanted to feel something again.
“Sarah!” I took her hand, as we approached the stage area. The girls wanted to sit at a table there, to get a good front view of the men. “I need you to cover for me,” I said to her and watched her eyes grow wide. “Please. I need to do something.”
“What? Where are you going?” she gaped, seeing me stand up.
“To the fight club,” I whispered, leaning down. “I am going back there. Cover for me for a couple of hours”.
“What?” Sarah asked again but my pleading eyes seemed to quiet her down.
“Please, Sarah,” I said again, my heart beating faster. “Please.”
It took her a few moments but she nodded, like I knew she would. Sarah was my only friend in this suffocating life I was living. I knew she understood me perfectly.
She knew how I felt, how being a prisoner was slowly taking the life out of me.
“Go,” she nodded and I squeezed her hand tight.
I excused myself in a haste, my mind thinking of a million things at a time. I told them I had to make an urgent phone call, the girls assumed it was at my husband.
My kidnapper. The murderer. The cheater. The man that’s slowly killing me.
The first thing I did, was to look for the emergency exits. But in the end, I didn’t walk through them. I was too scared to find one of the guards there. So, I headed to the bathroom and climbed out of a window.
I had no coat, no scarf on and yet I had never felt better in my life. I was out, I was free and I was running back to the club.
I never really understood what freedom was until I lost it.
But I did now. I was taking back what was mine, even if just for the night.
As I turned on the main road, I realized that was what prisoners must feel like when they step out of jail, after doing time.
I felt wild and alive, even though I knew it wouldn’t last long.
Even if I knew I would probably be dead before the night ended.
But at least I would die being myself.
I would be Andrea Szerov again.
Chapter 4
Lose yourself
Sebastian
By the time I had finished my drinks, I was in no mood for company. I told Joe the girls were all his, I wasn’t interested that night. I told him I had something else going on and I was going upstairs to my flat.