“Who’s the owner?”
“Bigfoot Jack.”
The name rings a bell. My father mentioned him once or twice.
“Where can I find him?”
“Six feet under.”
Shit. Another dead-end. “Who protected him?” Everyone in the hood had protection from someone. You couldn’t survive otherwise.
“He was with the Jewish guys from Kensington.”
“Jewish? In Portuguese territory?”
“His wife is Jewish. The big boss made a deal with the Porras to cut Bigfoot out of the loop. Why do you want to know all this stuff?”
“I’m writing a history book,” I say drily.
His nose wrinkles, burying his tiny pig eyes in layers of skin. “You’re shitting me.”
The guy is really thick.
“Where can I find the wife?”
“Won’t do you no good. Sophia’s got Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t recognize an ant from a fly.”
This doesn’t help. I wipe a hand over my face.
Lambert doesn’t seem to know where to put his feet. He shifts from the left to the right. “Want a beer?”
“Come on.” I nod at Rhett and make my way back to the car.
Inside, my bodyguard turns to me. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”
“I need Lambert’s phone records.”
“I’ll call Anton.”
“I already did. They’ve been wiped.”
“From how long back?”
I give him the date on which I first visited Valentina’s almost-husband.
“I know a hacker at Vodacom who’s discreet. I’ll call him and see what he can do.”
While I’m driving, he calls his contact. Before I pull into our driveway, he has a number for me. I park and punch the numbers he reads out loud into my phone. Already by the fourth digit, I know who the number belongs to. As I type in the last digit, Magda’s name pops onto the screen.
I fling the door open and make my way to the house with long strides.
“Gabriel!” Rhett jumps from the car and runs after me.
“Stay out of this,” I call back.
I find Magda in her study. “Why did Lambert Roos call you?”
She leans back, regarding me from over the rim of her glasses. “He wanted to know why we’re sniffing around in his territory.” She folds her arms. “Why are we, Gabriel?”
“Did you know Bigfoot Jack?”
“Not personally, but everyone in the business knows who Jack was.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Same as you––not much. Why this sudden interest in Bigfoot?”
“I’m trying to piece together Valentina’s history, but it’s all dead-end streets.”
“Why?”
“I’m interested.”
“Don’t get attached to her, Gabriel. I’ve warned you, already.”
“So you have.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Getting attached?”
“I don’t think I’m capable of attachment.”
“You’ve always been a soft boy, too soft for what it takes.”
“What does it take, Magda?”
“Do your job.”
“You mean kill her.”
“As agreed.”
I don’t agree at all, but a text comes in from Rhett, informing me the doctor has arrived. I order him to wait upstairs and go in search of Valentina. She’s walking Bruno with Quincy, and seeing them together in friendly banter only escalates my irritability.
“Hey,” she says when she sees me.
Her warm smile cools at my explosive state.
“The doctor’s waiting,” I say.
At my tone, Quincy mumbles a greeting and takes his leave.
“I know. I suggested we get started, but he insisted on waiting for you,” she tells me.
“I’m here now, so let’s go.”
In my room, I tell the doctor to repeat the same tests from yesterday. Yesterday, I wanted to ensure Valentina hasn’t sustained internal injuries that could prevent her from having children. Today, I need to know I haven’t damaged her.
“Again?” he says, his voice not giving away his thoughts.
I raise my brow in challenge. I pay him enough not to ask questions.
He turns to Valentina. “You know what to do, my dear.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do it, Valentina,” I say more harshly than what I intended.
She flinches at my tone but obeys. Only when the doctor tells me that she’s fine do I relax. I’d instructed him to inject her with a fertility treatment yesterday to increase her chances of conceiving. She’ll be ovulating a week from today, and my seed will be in her morning, afternoon, and night, until it takes.
I hold out her dress for her to step into and button up the front before guiding her back to the daybed. The doctor unrolls the bandage on her thumb, exposing an angry, red wound. I don’t need his confirmation to know the antibiotics aren’t helping. Neither does Valentina.
She looks at me with big eyes. “I hoped it would be better today.”
The doctor gives me a grim look. “She’ll have to go to the clinic. Now.”
My world comes to a standstill for a third time that day. I take Valentina’s hand in mine. Her palm is cold and clammy. “Is there a risk of her losing her thumb?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a surgeon.” He pulls off the medical gloves and throws them in the trashcan. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
“No.” I squeeze her fingers. “I’ll take her.”
I get Quincy to drive us so I can sit in the back with Valentina, my arm around her shoulders. Her frame is tense, but she leans into my touch when I grip her chin to kiss her lips. From spanking her, I know her pain threshold is low. That’s why she was so pale this morning. I want to tell her it will be all right, but there are already enough lies between us, and I simply don’t know.
On the way to the hospital, I call my personal insurance broker and get her to arrange pre-admittance at the clinic. It’s peak hour traffic at five, but Quincy knows the back roads and manages to get us there in little over thirty minutes. With Valentina already admitted, we walk straight to an examination room where a young surgeon waits on us. He takes one look at her finger and orders tests to be done.
“What’s the course of action?” I ask tightly.
“One thing at a time. Let’s get the results, first.”
“How long will it take?”
“An hour, maybe ninety minutes. We have the lab on site, and I requested the tests as a priority. I can get you a private room where you’ll be comfortable, or you can wait in the cafeteria.”
“Get us a room, please.” I can’t stand crowds, and I doubt Valentina is in the mood for hospital coffee.
A nurse shows us to a room with bright yellow walls and a single bed with a blue bedspread. Quincy takes up a position by the door while I make Valentina sit on the bed. I check the time on my phone. It’s almost six. I’m about to shove it back into my pocket when it rings. Carly’s name appears on the screen.
“Excuse me.” I press a kiss on Valentina’s temple and walk to the corner of the room. “Hello, princess. Where are you?”
“I’m home. Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I had to bring Valentina. Her wound is infected.”
“Oh, no. Tell her I hope it’s going to be okay. Listen, Mom’s here. Rhett is loading my stuff in the car.”
“Already?” I glance at Valentina. “When are you leaving?”
“We can’t wait long. Mom’s got something on. I can stop by next week.”
I’m torn in two. I don’t want to let Carly go without saying goodbye, but I don’t want to leave Valentina, either.
Valentina hops from the bed and lays her hand on my shoulder. “Carly?” she whispers.
I
nod.
“Go,” she says. “I’ll be fine.”
“Give me a minute, Carly.” I put the call on hold. “I’m not leaving you. Not now.”
“Quincy is here. You heard what the doctor said. It may take an hour or more. Go say goodbye to your daughter. I’m a big girl. It’s just an infection. I’ll get a shot of potent medicine, and then I’ll be back.”
I stare at her face, her full lips, and her sad, murky eyes. Rationally, what she says makes sense, but I can’t get myself to tell Carly I’ll be home in thirty minutes.
“Go on,” she urges. “Your daughter is moving out of your house. You’re not going to let her go like this, without even being there.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a second to make my decision before taking back the call. “I’ll be home in thirty minutes.”
“Okay,” Carly says brightly. “I’ll wait for you.”
I press a hard kiss to Valentina’s lips. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I love her, but I swallow the words back just in time. A shiver of shock runs down my spine. What the fuck is wrong with me? The thought tumbled into my mind from nowhere. Habit. It must be habit. Whenever I had to leave Sylvia in a difficult situation, I always needed to reassure her of my feelings. I backtrack to the door and say, “I’ll be back later.”
Her smile is warm and easy. It’s a smile meant to soothe. I escape the feelings crashing down on me, leaving them in the confines of the hospital room as I flee outside.
“Stay with her,” I say to Quincy, “and call me when there’s news. Anything she needs, anything at all, don’t hesitate.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Give me the car keys. I’m going to the house, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He fishes the keys from his pocket and hands them to me.
“Don’t move away from this door. Keep her safe.”
He flicks his jacket aside, showing me the gun that’s tucked in his waistband.
I leave the hospital with mixed feelings. If Sylvia was reasonable, I would’ve asked her to wait, but she’s not, and she’ll be especially difficult where Valentina is concerned.
The traffic is a nightmare. It takes me more than forty-five minutes to get home. Sylvia and Carly are waiting outside next to Sylvia’s overloaded convertible.
“Dad!” Carly runs to me when I get out of the car. “I knew you’d come. Told you, Mom.”
She lets me hug her, a rare occurrence. I look at the boxes and suitcases piled up on the backseat of the Mercedes. “Wow, when did you accumulate all this stuff?”
She jabs me with an elbow in the ribs. “You should know. You paid for it.”
“Can you even wear all of that?”
“It’s not only clothes,” she says indignantly. “There are books, too.”
“What, ten?”
Sylvia walks up to us in a tight-fitting, pink pencil-skirt suit. “We have to go.”
“Carly, if you need anything––”
“I’ll call.”
“No more than an hour on your phone per day and no dates without my permission.”
“Gabriel.” Sylvia gives me a hard look. “I’m her mother. I’m capable of handling these decisions.”
“But we’ll make them together.”
She moves away, doing her best not to appear abrupt in front of Carly. “She’s growing up. Accept it.”
I’m not getting into a fight with Sylvia. Not today. I kiss Carly’s cheek. “I love you, princess. You know that, right?”
She wipes her palm over her cheek. “Yuk, Dad! Since when are you all mushy?”
“Since my baby girl is growing up.” I was going to say leaving, but I don’t want her to feel guilty for spending time with her mom.
“Stop it.” She swats my arm. “You’ll make me cry, and I don’t want my mascara to run.”
“Carly.” Sylvia starts tapping her foot.
The two women make their way to the car and get inside. As the vehicle clears the gates, a feeling of desolation creeps up on me. The house is empty and purposeless. Its framework stands like a big, white elephant behind me. The pool, garden, televisions, everything was for Carly. It’s like a piece of me has left with my daughter.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, drawing my attention back to the present. There’s a text message from Quincy.
Valentina’s in surgery.
17
Valentina
I wake up in a hospital bed without a piece of me. It’s not the end of the world to lose a thumb. Worse things can happen, but I’ll never hold a needle and thread again. To be a veterinary surgeon, you need all your fingers. It happened too quickly for me to process. Twenty minutes after Gabriel left, the doctor returned with the news. The digit they sewed back didn’t take. I had gangrene in my thumb. To stop the infection from spreading, he had to amputate above the knuckle. Fifteen minutes later, I was wheeled into the operating room.
The door opens, and a nurse enters. “You’re awake.” She looks at the chart by the foot of the bed and adjusts the drip in my arm. “Ready for visitors? Mr. Louw is anxious to see you.”
I’m not. I want to be alone to process what happened.
“Push the button if you’re in pain.” She leaves a call button within reach of my good hand and calls brightly through the door, “You can see her now.”
When Gabriel enters, my heart shatters. His hair is messy and his shirt creased, like he slept in it all night. The skin under his eyes is a blue-ish color. He limps to my bedside, his face an unreadable mask. Despite his tall frame and all those muscles, he looks utterly vulnerable. A deep need to soothe him makes me reach out, cupping his cheek.
“What time is it?”
“Just after six.” He adds, “In the morning.”
“Did you stay the whole night?”
“Of course.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He says nothing, but turmoil suddenly twists his face.
“It’s just a thumb,” I say.
He grabs my fingers and squeezes so hard it hurts. When I cry out he lets go, seeming uncertain what to do with my hand. Finally, he places it on top of the bedspread.
“You’re not the only one who can brag. I’ve got my own scar, now.”
“I’ve already spoken to the doctor about a prosthesis.”
“I don’t want an artificial thumb.”
“Why not? It’ll look natural.”
“It won’t function.”
“No.” He avoids my eyes. “It won’t.”
“I don’t care about how I look.” When his eyes turn stormy, I try for humor. “Damn, I’ll never be able to hitchhike.”
A smile breaks through his dark expression. “You don’t have to. You’ve got me.”
Not forever.
He traces a finger along my jaw. “There are other things. Veterinary assistant. Nurse.”
It’s like telling me there are other men than him.
“Yes,” I say softly, “there are other things.”
* * *
Time flies by during the next few weeks. Christmas comes and goes. I shared a quiet lunch with Kris and Charlie. Instead of buying each other gifts, we donated money to a charity for stray animals. Gabriel, Sylvia, Carly, and Magda had a party with their associates and friends. Magda hired caterers, so my help wasn’t needed. Gabriel gave me a spa voucher for Christmas that included every imaginable pampering treatment. My gift to him was of a more depraved nature. He asked to tie me up and film spanking and fucking me. He didn’t need my permission, but my free will was the gift he wanted. It was another way of twisting more submission from me, of making me fall deeper into the darkness that is us. Afterward, he made me watch it. Like the perverse being I’ve become, it turned me on, and the reward for my reaction was a tender marathon of slow lovemaking.
The house is quiet without Carly. She comes to visit every second weekend for a couple of hours. I can tell Gabriel misses her. After New Year, the house turns even
quieter when Magda leaves for Cape Town. I don’t know what kind of work she’s doing there, and I don’t ask. Gabriel is often out on business, leaving me alone in the mansion. Gabriel, Quincy, and Rhett treat me like an invalid, carrying the washing basket and anything else I can easily enough pick up. For some tasks, I switch to my left hand. Others, I manage with four fingers.
Marie comes back to work, her speech impaired and her disposition brusquer than before. As the traveling between home and work becomes too much for her, she moves into a bedroom in the house. I have a strong suspicion she tattles to Magda. She watches me like a hawk. For that reason, even if Magda and Carly aren’t present, I still don’t spend whole evenings in Gabriel’s bed. Some nights he comes to me, and some nights I go to him. When we’re together, I’m his sex object. His pet. When Magda enters the equation, I’m property. Gabriel is careful to tone down the affection he shows me in private when Marie or Magda is around.
Kris is supportive. She said I could still buy into the practice, even if we both know I’ll never be able to afford it on a maid or veterinary nurse’s salary. Aletta was sad when I told her the news. Shortly after, she informed me they awarded the bursary to another, needy student. Charlie got very involved with the dog walking. He takes the task to heart, and the responsibility seems to do him good.
It’s only me who’s not doing well. On a non-physical level. My checkups are good. The doctor says the infection hasn’t spread. I’m stuck in Gabriel’s house, submitted to his mercy, and I can’t say he’s mistreating me. I’ve come to crave the spankings and beltings. He buys my food and clothes. Anything I want, I only have to mention it, and I’ll find it in my room the next day. It’s as if he’s trying to make up for the loss of my dreams and the dark needs he submits me to with material compensation. His gifts range from cosmetics to books and even a new iPhone.
Sex with Gabriel is always explosive, even when it’s gentle. Lately, there’s a lot of gentle. That’s why I can’t understand my growing sadness. The kinder he acts toward me, the sadder I feel. I can’t bring the man in my bed together with the man who holds Charlie’s future over my head. I want to hate both, but I know better. It’s been a long time since I felt only desire for Gabriel. I care about him, and I hate that I do.
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