Warrant

by S. L. Schiefer

  As soon as the first dark notes hit the room, it’s like I’m no longer in control of the movements coming from my body. It always feels like I’m floating somewhere off to the side of the room, a spectator to the gracefulness that is dancing. I dance until my muscles start to protest each movement. I dance until sweat soaks my shirt. I dance until I can longer remember what it is that drove me in here.

  I do a lot of freestyle. Piecing together moves that I wouldn’t dare try in front of our very traditional instructor. Each move flowing right into the next. My body was made for this. This right here is what I know I’m supposed to do with my life.

  Chapter 4

  Enzo

  “Goddammit, man. You’re cheating, I’m folding,” I tell the asshole across from me.

  “Whatever. You’re just pissed you never win.” A shit grin appears on his face.

  Every Monday since I arrived in Ohio, I’ve been playing poker with some of the fuckers I work with. And most of the time I leave with no money, owing someone for chipping in for me. I never played poker back home, so it’s definitely been a learning experience for me.

  “I’m leaving before I owe someone money again. Catch you guys later.” With a wave and a nod of my head, I walk outside.

  Walking out of the two-story condo, I follow the sidewalk to the driveway. Lenny, the guy hosting this poker party every week, lives in one of those gated communities. Where every house and condo looks identical. I’ve never seen the appeal in having something plain. Something that doesn’t stand out. For me, everything is all or nothing. I want something that means something.

  I get to my truck, a Ford F-250 diesel, and hit the unlock button on my key fob. Even though locking it in this neighborhood is unnecessary. I start it up once I’m inside and put it in reverse and back out. On my drive, actually whenever I’m alone, my thoughts always stray back to the beauty from campus. Devon. What an unusual name for a girl.

  Her hair looking like it was thrown up in a hurry, those fucking yoga pants, and her striking features was like a triple threat waiting to strike at the least-expected time. Her clear blue eyes were what I noticed first when she turned around. When I looked closer, it seemed as if her eyes had a story of their own to tell. Like she’d seen more than what she should have at her age. I always heard my grandma talking about some people who have old souls. I think Devon is one of them.

  Since I ran into her, I’ve been patrolling close to campus when I get a chance. On the off chance that I might run into her again. It was only a fleeting moment, one that shouldn’t have had the amount of control over me that it has, but I am trying my hardest to run into her again. Sometimes you have to take fate into your own hands, and create your own moments in time.

  God. I sound like a sappy motherfucker. My mama would be ecstatic. My papa, lord he would be screaming, “I told you so.” He always told me I would know when I found her. No explanation. Nothing. That I would just know. And damn if the old fuck wasn’t right.

  The drive back to my house goes by in a daze. I don’t even remember getting here. My house is in Dublin. Shit is expensive as hell here, but I love the neighborhood. Everything I want is on one road, within twenty minutes of my house. My house itself is a fixer upper. I’ve always wanted to flip a house. And with me starting over, and not having anything else going on, I decided now was as good of time as ever.

  It’s almost midnight when I pull into my driveway. My drive went by fast with thoughts of Devon always at the forefront of my mind. Shutting my truck off, I hop out of it and slam the door. Walking up my sidewalk to the front porch, I check my mail before opening the door. Nothing but junk mail. I don’t know how people have figured out to send me shit so soon. Whatever.

  I open the door and walk inside. To my quiet house. My quiet, empty, lonely house. Maybe I’ll buy a damn dog or something to make this place a little livelier around here. I walk into my kitchen to grab me a bottle of water before heading to bed. Leaning against the counter, I open the bottle and take a huge gulp. Looking around, it really hits me how still everything is in here. Shit. First thing tomorrow morning I’m going to pick out a dog.

  Chapter 5

  Walking around the corner, I head back to my car. I’ve been keeping tabs on her for a while, biding my time, waiting for the right opportunity to set my plan in motion. But contrary to what everyone thinks, my reasoning is completely personal.

  My black Maserati sits along the curb, in front of a house that looks like it should be set on fire and leveled. I’m sure all the students passing by my car gawked, wondering why I would just leave it there unattended. My car means nothing to me, nothing compared to the need for revenge. And if it means losing the car to see what she’s up to, then so be it. I don’t trust anyone else to check up on her. It doesn’t take much for students to tell anyone anything around either. Offering some schmuck a hundred-dollar bill and they about piss their pants.

  Devon Harper. Even her name makes me cringe. Just the thought of her at all makes my gut churn. This girl has been the source of a lot of problems for me. But soon, everything will be all taken care of.

  Chapter 6

  Devon

  It’s game day in Columbus. Which means everyone and their brother is wearing scarlet and gray. And my girls and I are on Lane Avenue, tailgating. It’s an unspoken rule if you bring beer you’re welcome to crash any tailgating spot. So we’ve just done that. At multiple spots. To say we’re wasted is an understatement.

  It’s close to kick off, and unfortunately we don’t have tickets. But down here that doesn’t mean a whole lot. People have TVs attached to vehicles, radios, and of course, you can clearly hear the crowd. So even if you don’t know what exactly is going on inside the stadium, you will know if the crowd is happy or not.

  We have socialized with every person we’ve passed today. We’re at our final tent for the day, where these people have a huge sixty-inch TV set up. Every time we score, there is loud cheering and yelling coming from every direction. The game is almost over, and we’ve sobered up enough to try to make our way home and not stumble around in the process.

  “What a game!” Roni exclaims. This girl, she is hysterical. She has no idea what is usually going on during football, unless some guy tries to sit down and explain it to her, which does no good. She only comes for the beer, so she’s usually drunk and everything she is told goes in one ear and out the other.

  Shaking my head at her, I tell her, “Roni, honey, you only know we won because everyone was happy!” That causes everyone around us to laugh.

  “Yeah, I should buy you a book that explains football for you for your birthday!” Peyton yells.

  “You guys know it would do her absolutely no good! She wouldn’t even read it!” I laugh. We all keep walking with the crowd of people, heading to their houses or their cars. I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket, so I pull it out and see that I have a text. Seeing the name on the screen has my good mood going right down the drain.

  Boss: I’m going to need you to come meet a last minute add in.

  Me: Are you kidding me? Can’t you get someone else to do it? I’m busy.

  Boss: You know better than to question me when I tell you to do something. You have an hour.

  Fuck! There went my whole goddamned day. Not that I had huge plans for the night, but fucking still! I keep trailing behind my friends trying to think of what excuse I’m going to use this time. I’ve used just about all of them that I could possibly think of.

  I’m on autopilot as I walk back to our house. I mindlessly follow the throngs of people in the direction I’m heading, ignoring everything around me. I’ve never had an appointment put on me last minute like this before. I’ve always had everything planned out a week in advance at the very least. I have to mentally prepare myself for this shit. And one hour is not enough.

  Mistakes can happen in one hour. Mistakes that can get me hurt or even killed. And if I’m dead, there is no way I can carry out my plan. My plan t
o get the fuck out of this life. I have to be very careful and very mindful of everything that I do. One little slip and everything I’ve worked toward will go straight down the drain.

  Somewhere between the stadium and our house, I apparently lost my friends. That’s what I get for living in my head too much. I glance around trying to find them with no luck. Shaking my head, I keep on toward my house. I have a lot to do and not enough time. I keep getting bumped into by everyone speed walking back to their cars. Everyone has the same idea—try to beat others to their cars so they don’t have to wait a long time in traffic.

  I’m standing at the stop light on High Street and Lane Avenue when I hear my name. I start looking around confused. It’s not every day I hear a guy yelling my name. I look in the direction of B-Dubs, and what the hell do I see? That fucking sexy cop, Enzo, who is sporting dark jeans that do amazing things for his legs and an Ohio State jersey. Either he really didn’t care about Alabama football or he was an Ohio fan prior to moving.

  “Devon. Hey, how are you?” he asks, slightly out of breath. I imagine how out of breath I could make him. Mentally smacking myself upside the head, I try to tear myself away from those particular thoughts.

  “I’m good, trying to plow my way home through this mess.” I give a light laugh while trying not to fidget.

  “Which way do you live? I’ll walk with you. I think I’m scary enough that people would get out of your way.” He has a smile that I can only assume is genuine.

  “It’s really okay. I’m not far from here. It’s starting to thin out from everyone running to their cars anyways.” I start to walk in the direction I need to go, but he keeps pace with me. I really hope he doesn’t push. I don’t need this on top of everything else I’m trying to do.

  “Are you sure? Since the game is over we aren’t hanging around here anymore,” he tells me, placing his hand on my shoulder. Jesus, the shockwaves that ran through my body at a simple touch is fucking with me. What I wouldn’t give to be able to explore this.

  Putting a little bit of distance between us, I tell him, “I’m sure. I have to head out as soon as I get home anyways. Have some errands to run.”

  He surprises me with what he says next. “Can I get your number? I would really like to take you out on a date sometime.”

  God, this is breaking my heart. I want nothing more than to give him my number. But what respectable guy wants to be with a girl who gives herself to other guys on a weekly basis? Willing or not, I’m still a prostitute. “I’m sorry, Enzo. You don’t want to date me. You think you do, but once you get to know me you’d change your mind.” I turn and walk away, my head hanging low. Not only for not being able to take what I want, but also for the shit storm that’s about to go down in my life.

  **

  With only thirty minutes left to haul ass across town, I start tossing clothes around my room, trying to find something to put on. I can’t wear anything that has anything to do with my normal life. Some johns like to undress me, some don’t. And since I don’t know who I’m meeting tonight, I can’t risk it.

  Finally finding something that can’t really be called “hooker-wear,” I throw it on. After I check myself in my full-length mirror, I run my hand through my hair, trying to fluff it up a little. Leaning in a little closer, I make sure my makeup still looks okay. Today it won’t be overly heavy, but I don’t give a fuck right now, though.

  After grabbing my duffel bag of extra shit on my way out of my room, I head downstairs and outside. I manage to slip past everyone without getting caught, thank you Jesus! I don’t think I could fend off any questions about where I’m going right now. As I run to my car, my flip-flops flap ridiculously loud on my feet. I hop in and start it up and squeal away from the curb.

  I speed all the way across town, and by some grace of God, I don’t get pulled over. I slam the car into Park and get out, and run into the office, I sometimes think that the Boss lives here since he’s here every time one of girls meets with someone. A lot of good that did when my mom got offed.

  Yanking open the door, I walk past everyone in the front room without so much as a glance. “Who is so important that you are interrupting my Saturday downtown?” I grit out.

  “Devon, why must you always be so angry?” I can’t believe when I first met him I thought he was handsome. Knowing him better now, I can think of nothing I would want to do with him.

  “I’m angry because this is my day off. You know I like going to the games. It’s the only thing I do that’s normal.”

  “Ah, but I allow you to continue this silly dream of going to school. And that, dare I say, is a normal activity people your age do? Am I right?” He smiles.

  “Allow me? I’m sorry. You allow me to go to school?” A huge bark of laugher leaves my mouth before I can stop it. But what the fuck? I was late so I’m going to be in trouble anyway. “The only thing you’re doing is ruining any semblance of a life I can ever have right now. The only thing you could possibly do that would be considered a favor is letting me go!”

  Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he tells me, “Sweetheart, you only go to school because I allow it. I could ruin more than just your love life and you know it.”

  Huffing, I ask, “Who am I meeting?” Might as well get on with it. I’m not getting out of it, because no matter how hard I pray, God doesn’t watch over me during these times. I like to think it’s because he’s turning a blind eye so that when I die I won’t go to hell for what I’ve done or will do in the future.

  “He’s a new guy, requested you by name. Paying more than triple the norm.”

  “Does “he” have a name?”

  “I know his name. He came with a list of strict instructions. We need to get you ready before he gets here.” He stands and walks around his desk. This room has changed so much since the first time I was brought here. He started sprucing up the shit hole. Probably because all I did while I was in here was bitch about it.

  “What do you mean he’s not here yet? I busted ass to get over here on time, and this dickwad isn’t even here?” Boss tries to grab my arm but I yank out of his reach. Crossing my arms, I glare at him. He knows me. He knows I won’t move until I have some information.

  “He is … very particular. Wants you prepared a specific way so he doesn’t have to do any work. He just comes in and does what he wants and leaves.” He grabs my arm again and begins pulling me out of the room, out the front door, and to the left, taking me to my usual room.

  I almost lose my footing when he shoves me in the door ahead of him. I throw my bag on a chair in the corner. I stand there, like the obedient person I’m supposed to be.

  “Undress for me, sweetheart,” Boss tells me.

  Unceremoniously, I take everything off. This is the first time I’ve been naked in front of him. At this point it doesn’t bother me anymore. “Okay, now what?”

  “Lie face down on the bed.” He pulls some twine out of the inside of his suit jacket.

  “What the fuck is that for? You know I don’t get down with that sort of shit!” My eyes must be wide because he shushes me, trying to calm me down, even as he walks toward me. He places his hand in the middle of my shoulder blades and gently pushes me down. Taking one arm, he ties me to the cheap metal headboard.

  “Sweetheart, I told you he had some requirements. Please, just go along with it. Things will be so much easier for you if you just listen.”

  The gentleness in his tone scares me. He’s never cajoled anyone before, so the fact that he’s doing it now is not good.

  “He’s not going to hurt me, is he? Tell me now if he plans on it. That way I can mentally check out.” I’m resigning myself to this. If I don’t, I’ll be killed.

  “Don’t do that … He wants to hear you scream. Please don’t check out. If you do, he’ll make it ten times worse. I know of him,” he says, his eyes full of pity. “Just listen to him. If he says scream, you scream.”

  Closing my eyes, I wait until he gets me all tied
up. My arms are tied to either side of the headboard and my feet are tied to each corner of the foot of the bed. When Boss walks around to my right side, I turn my head and open my eyes. He reaches out and brushes my hair off to the left side and runs his hand down my spine, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

  “I’m so sorry, Devon,” he whispers, using my real name for once. “There is a reason, beyond my control, why I didn’t deny him what he wanted.”

  With that, he turns and walks toward the front door. He adds one thing before leaving. “As soon as he leaves, I will be in here to clean you up.” And he’s gone with the door shutting behind him.

  Alone and waiting like this are two horrible combinations for me. Being left alone to my thoughts without being able to move makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a rusty pair of scissors. What could be a few minutes or twenty minutes later, I hear the door open and then close.

  I don’t even turn my head. I don’t want to know who walked through that door. I hear something drop to the floor, then clothes rustling. Shit. This makes me nervous. Not knowing what to expect makes me want to puke.

  “So, my darling Fancy, you’re just a lovely as I was told. Maybe even more.” His voice making me shiver.

  Not making any noise, except for breathing, I keep as still as possible on the bed, trying to figure out how to expect the unexpected. I hear him moving closer to the bed. I feel his hand hovering over the skin of my ass. This is fucking with me more and more.

  I hear the smack of flesh hitting flesh before the pain registers. I cry out at the intense stinging now consuming my ass. I hear several more smacks in quick succession of each other. Tears are threatening to spill out at the pain. I’ve never been hit like this before, and there is a reason I told him I won’t do it. I don’t like this shit at all.

  “What’s wrong, lovely? You don’t like that?” Sarcasm drips from every word. I don’t even want to open my mouth to answer him; the sob I’m holding back might make this so much worse.