NEVERLAND

by Melissa Jane

  “Are you going to let your son talk to an elder like that? Is that how you’ve raised him?”

  Mrs. Sanchez didn’t waver. “Of course not, and if you have a punishment fitting for him, then—”

  “Wait,” Mr. Sanchez interjected, and quite frankly gave us all a fright. His hardened stare was directed at one person and it wasn’t his son. “Why are you ripping us off?”

  “Your son is lying,” Hopkins snapped.

  “My son doesn’t lie!”

  “Well, he is in this situation. Maybe you should have taught him morals and respect.”

  Mrs. Sanchez bit her bottom lip. Having her parenting skills brought into question and her son labeled a liar, seemed to trigger her temper. She faced Hopkins square on. “You just wait one moment. My son doesn’t lie and how dare you come into my home telling me I should have raised him better. And who are you to lecture about morals? If you did, indeed, charge my son more than you’re charging others for the same items, then you, Mr. Hopkins, are the one who should be looking at one’s morals.”

  Mr. Hopkins continued to demonstrate the extent of his bigotry. “If you’re unhappy with the service then please, find somewhere else to shop. I don’t need your type loitering around my business.”

  “Loitering?” I snapped, indignant of his behavior. All eyes fell on me. “You can’t treat people like that, Mr. Hopkins. You know the Sanchezes are good people. What you did and how you’re behaving is disgraceful.”

  All bets were off as he fired his insults at me, any hint of care he once had, now gone. Gone because I was siding with his opposition. “I don’t need to take advice from a street rat,” he responded spitefully. “In fact, Lucy, I’m appalled you’re a part of all this. I expected so much better from you but given who your folks are, I shouldn’t be surprised by your behavior. Your parents can’t even afford to pay a bill from two months ago, so thieving isn’t really below you, is it?”

  My cheeks flushed with humiliation. The worst part of growing up as poor as I did, was that it was so blatantly obvious to everyone how little money we actually had. “Your place is next on my list,” he warned. “I can just imagine how upset your father is going to be. If he’s sober, that is.”

  Mrs. Sanchez moved in front of me, an act of motherly protection I’d never seen from my own. “You won’t say anything to Mr. and Mrs. Sommers. You know that won’t end well for Lucy. Do you really want that on your conscience?”

  And that was the other thing. Not only did everyone see my family as living below the poverty line, but they also saw the shocking level of abuse. Even Mr. Hopkins whose heart had since turned to stone.

  “She should have thought of that before she stole from me.”

  “It was called for,” I said in an attempt to show I wasn’t scared of him. I wasn’t scared, and being a Libra and just a good human, I felt a great sense of injustice toward how he was treating the Sanchezes. “I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Hopkins.”

  He had the exact reaction I was hoping for. Nobody likes being told they’re disappointing. Not even adults. He recoiled like I’d slapped him and for a moment he fumbled for words.

  “It turns out Lucy doesn’t need our protection from you,” Mrs. Sanchez began. “She’s faced worst monsters than you, but, I implore you to not go anywhere near the Sommers’ house. Not unless you want this young girl to be covered in bruises the next day. Put your hate for us aside and show some empathy to her situation.”

  Mr. Hopkins folded his arms and considered me carefully. “Fine,” he finally conceded. “You got guts, kid. How about we kill two birds with one stone. I don’t tell your father about what happened this afternoon, but you come to work for me. First week will be working for free as an apology and everything else after will be paid. I’m sure you could do with a little extra in your pocket.”

  “You’re offering me a job?” I couldn’t quite believe the turnaround in attitude.

  “That’s what I said.”

  I had one stipulation. “If I do come and work for you, you have to stop overcharging the Sanchezes, and treat them like everyone else.”

  His permanent scowl flicked from me to the three family members watching on and then back. “Fine,” was all he said.

  “Then we have a deal.”

  No more than a few words later, Mr. Hopkins left and both Romeo and I had to come clean. Well, come clean may have been a little misguided.

  “How could you do this, miho?” Mrs. Sanchez pleaded, trying to understand what had happened to her son. “It’s already hard enough for your father to get work, the last thing we need is for our son to be known as a thief. And you know what will happen to you when Principal Rosser hears word of it? You can kiss any hope of a scholarship goodbye, that’s what. Everything we’ve worked so hard for, gone.”

  “It was me,” I blurted out without giving it a second thought. Truth was, while my life sucked in so many ways, Romeo was going places. “I stole the milk and bread because I saw how much Mr. Hopkins was overcharging and didn’t think it fair. It had nothing to do with Romeo. In fact, he pleaded with me not to do it.”

  Romeo’s eyes widened in horror. “Lucy, that’s not true. I’m the one—”

  “It is true. He’s just saying that to protect me.” I shot him a subtle look of reproach. “I’m really sorry Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez. I never thought it would get so out of hand.”

  Mrs. Sanchez’s threw a dubious glance between us, not knowing who she should believe. It wasn’t that I was completely lying, there was some truth to my words.

  Mrs. Sanchez threw up her hands, exasperated. “I don’t know who to believe. I’m just disappointed either of you are involved.”

  “We’re involved, Mom, because he was ripping us off. He’s a racist ass—”

  “That’s enough, Romeo,” his father snapped. He was typically a gentle, soft-spoken man, but the whole ordeal had humiliated him enough that he’d lost all patience. “Both of you are in charge of cooking and cleaning tonight, and not another word is to be uttered about this. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” we replied in unison before heading to the kitchen.

  “Why did you take the blame, Lucy?” Romeo hissed, pulling me around the corner.

  I turned on him ready to spell it out. “You have way more to lose than what I do, Romeo. Even if I get that scholarship, I can’t accept it. My parents would never sign for it because it would mean we have to move. And we aren’t gonna do that. You…” I jabbed his chest for emphasis, “… on the other hand, have parents who already expect you to win the scholarship. That’s the difference. If Principal Rosser finds out you did this, and you lose the opportunity, you’ll regret it and your mom will kick your ass.”

  “So, you’re just going to give up on chasing the scholarship?”

  I shrugged my shoulders, feeling the helplessness of my situation. “My parents would still be required to cover some of the expense.” I smiled although it didn’t reach my eyes. “That loaf of bread was going to last us the week. There would be no way they’d be able to contribute to the scholarship. Nor would they want to.” My heart hurt at the reality of it and I chided myself for still feeling anything at all toward them. “They just don’t care enough, or at all.”

  Romeo wiped my damp cheek with his thumb. “You’re too good for them, Lucy. They never deserved you.” He lowered his head and took a deep breath. “Thank you for saying what you did. I’ll always have your back, no matter what. Did Mr. Salvatore hurt you today?”

  I’d forgotten all about him.

  “He just caught me off-guard, that’s all.” My eyes wandered to the stack of bills that’d piled up on the kitchen counter. If they were all like the first with a big red ‘Overdue’ stamp on them, then the Sanchezes were in trouble. They had debts outstanding, and yet they always took me as another mouth to feed.

  Romeo seemed confused by my apparent indifference. “Caught you off-guard? Lucy, I saw him throw you against his SUV. What did he say?�
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  “Who threw you against his SUV?” Mrs. Sanchez rounded the corner, wide-eyed with concern.

  “Mr. Salvatore,” Romeo answered, and his mother gasped.

  “What about Salvatore?” Mr. Sanchez now made an appearance, looking notably paler than usual.

  Mrs. Sanchez replied to her husband in Spanish, both now seeming more concerned with that tidbit of news than the actual theft.

  “You need to stay away from that man,” Mr. Sanchez warned. “I can’t say it explicitly enough. He’s extremely dangerous and I don’t want either of you anywhere near him.”

  “You’ve never mentioned him before,” Romeo frowned over the sudden urgency in his father’s voice.

  “Because you’ve never had anything to do with him. But for everyone’s safety, I order you both to stay away from him. Do you understand?”

  I looked to Romeo, who’d obviously not told his parents whose son had beaten his face black and blue that time.

  “Am I understood?” he asked, again.

  “Yes,” we replied at once but he wasn’t appeased. Something had him rattled.

  Mrs. Sanchez looked ill, her face turning a sickening shade of gray. “Promise your father,” she said, her petite hand nervously rubbing her throat as if she could feel a hand strangling her.

  “We promise,” we said again, both a little stunned over their unexpected reactions.

  “And if you ever see him around, don’t ever let him anywhere near Lucy,” Mrs. Sanchez warned.

  Rendered speechless, we both nodded. Appeased, Mr. Sanchez wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and led her back to the living room, leaving Romeo and me in stunned silence, neither of us able to comprehend what had just happened.

  “What the fuck was that?” he finally asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think your parents would even know him.”

  “Me either,” he agreed. “But it sure does make me want to know more about him,” Romeo admitted quietly while he walked to the fridge and started collecting items for dinner. As he had his back turned, I pulled the cash from my bra which Mr. Salvatore had given me. Spotting Mrs. Sanchez’s purse, I quickly and quietly flicked in open and slid inside a one-hundred-dollar bill while folding the other and putting it into the back pocket of my shorts.

  Since he’d obviously done them wrong in some way, he could at least contribute to paying their bills.

  ~~~

  “Sweep all through the back,” Mr. Hopkins instructed. “And don’t just go around, go under.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then once the delivery comes in, start stacking the shelves.”

  “Okay.”

  “Once that’s done, get to bagging the candy for the front counter.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I don’t wanna see any sneakiness from you this time, or I will most certainly pay your parents a visit.”

  I met his eyes. “Okay,” I agreed once more, keen to start work so I could meet Romeo afterward. This was my first day but the work seemed easy enough. When Mr. Hopkins left me to it, I started with the sweeping. Fifteen minutes later, a delivery truck arrived, and the men dumped what seemed like six dozen boxes onto the pavement. One by one I started carrying in the smaller boxes until they grew bigger in size, so big they blocked my front view and I was forced to look around it.

  Navigating back inside, being careful not to trip over the concrete ledge, I placed the box on top of another.

  “I see you’re repenting for your petty theft,” Dominic Salvatore mocked. I turned to find him silhouetted in the door, yet I could still make out his black eye and smiling face. My heart thudded. I was effectively trapped between two rows of boxes, a brick wall, and a Salvatore.

  I was also sweaty, covered in dust, and in no mood to put up with his crass observations.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “Many things but we can’t always have what we want.”

  I stepped forward hoping he’d move but he didn’t even flinch. “I have work to do. Please move.” Dominic remained in place, his one good eye staring at my chest. Glancing down, I saw my white shirt was stretched from the big boxes and now was revealing plentiful cleavage. Embarrassed, I readjusted my top to how it should be, cursing under my breath.

  “Now, get out of my way, please.”

  Instead of moving back out the door, he advanced forward. With each step he took, I was forced to do the same, retreating us further between the stacks of boxes, the narrow aisle offering no escape. With my back against the wall, his warm breath tickled my skin. His chest was pressed against mine so much so, he’d be able to feel my thudding heart.

  “I could think of a better punishment for you,” he murmured, voice husky with desire. “One that better fits the crime.”

  His hand snaked up my dirty shirt and cupped my breasts, fingers painfully kneading.

  “Get off me,” I ordered. I pushed his chest and slapped his arms and face, but nothing deterred him from taking what he wanted. He intercepted most and seemed unfazed by those which made contact. It was like he was desensitized to it. A sad fact we had in common. Growing tired of my antics, he pinned my hands over my head, allowing him a chance to explore wherever he wanted. I squirmed under him, but the more I did, the more he seemed aroused by my rejection. His breathing was heavy, his touch greedy, as he slipped his hands down my shorts.

  “Mr.—” I tried to scream for help until a hand smothered my mouth.

  “Shh,” he warned, cocking a brow in warning.

  “We’re just going to second base, that’s all.” He smiled. “Now slide down on your knees, keeping your mouth shut until I tell you to open wide.”

  Was he serious?

  Was he really taking it this far?

  I panicked, furiously shaking my head.

  Seeing my refusal as a challenge, he forced me around until I stood flat against the brick wall. “Dominic, stop! Please,” I begged of him. It all fell on deaf ears. We were both still kids. How at his age could he want to hurt me like this?

  He ignored me, too caught up in a frenzy. Snaking one hand around the front, he pulled at the zipper on my shorts, his erection pressing firmly into me.

  “Dominic,” Mr. Salvatore’s deep voice boomed from behind, stilling my attacker. “Leave her be.”

  Dominic breathed heavily through his nose, furious over the interruption. Conceding defeat, he lowered his lips to my ear. “You got away from me this time, Lucy. You won’t be so lucky in the future.” He pulled away, but I was too shocked to move off the wall.

  “I was just telling Lucy how she shouldn’t steal from us,” Dominic quipped.

  From us?

  That would perhaps explain the wad of cash exchanged between Mr. Salvatore and Mr. Hopkins yesterday.

  Mr. Salvatore watched as I fumbled in righting my clothes. “Lucy and I have already had words, haven’t we?”

  I responded with a small, timid nod. He had that effect on me. And after witnessing how disturbed the Sanchezes were after hearing his name, I was even more frightened of the guy.

  “Besides…” he continued, “… it’s better she lives with the fear of knowing what will happen to her if she does it again.”

  Chapter 7

  NOW

  “When you steal from my customers, you steal from me. Now, who the fuck’s gonna own up?” Dominic bellowed so loud my eardrums rattled. Blaze flinched with pain as he dug the gun muzzle against her temple.

  “I haven’t seen this before,” I pleaded, hoping Blaze hadn’t done something stupid. The evidence was stacked against her, and I was collateral damage. She was leaving the club altogether and had asked to use my locker.

  “I… don’t… I don’t know,” Blaze blubbered, and I believed her. She wasn’t the stealing type.

  Throwing his head back, Dominic laughed. The obnoxious sound grated against my fragile nerves. He was maniacal and out of control, and his reaction had left a distressed Blaze, confused.


  “Fucking damn good thing I know exactly who the thief is among us, otherwise I’d be losing two of my top girls tonight. And that would be a waste, wouldn’t it, Anton?”

  “Depends on how you look at it,” he replied dryly, no love lost between him and the girls who worked here.

  “I look at it the same way God viewed infidels,” Dominic continued, this time with a preacher’s voice. “Wipe the whole fucking filthy palette clean, leaving no one with a pulse. And here we are.” Standing behind Blaze, he pointed the Glock straight at me, eyes narrowed yet loaded with delight. Terror coursed through me causing a string of incomprehensible words to pour from my mouth, begging for mercy. “Now let this be a reminder of who you should be calling God.”

  With a wink, he lowered his arm and everything fell into slow motion.

  I lunged forward to stop it from happening, but it was too late. My cries mixed with the sound of the gunshot, Blaze’s pretty eyes losing life in an instant.

  A spray of blood coated my skin and I felt a searing heat followed by excruciating pain as the bullet passed through Blaze’s skull and into my shoulder. She fell into my arms and we collapsed on the black plastic.

  I wept for the best friend so brutally taken away from me. I cried for a beautiful woman who’d died at the hands of Dominic Salvatore. A monster who’d never had a heart. I rocked her in my arms, wishing I could relieve her of her last terrifying moments. But I couldn’t. Nothing could ever erase that.

  I blinked through the tears, blood stinging my eyes. I barely saw him approach. But I could smell him over the coppery scene coating me.

  “Now, tell me, Lucy. Who is your God?”

  I shivered both cold and terrified. “You,” I muttered, teeth chattering.

  “Say it.”

  “You’re my God.”

  He stroked the back of head like I was his favorite puppy. “Good girl. Now, don’t you forget it.”

  Chapter 8