by BT Urruela
The man lit a cigarette and for a split second, his face illuminated like a demon in the dark. Am I really just crazy? Annalise felt like she was falling into a black hole meant just for her. Another dancer bumped into her and she looked away. Realizing how crazy this was, she tried to get back into the music, to forget about what she thought she saw, but she couldn’t shake the look in his eyes. There was something treacherous and cold about them, like a deadly viper, circling its prey. Her heart raced in time with the music and she felt like she couldn’t catch her breath.
This is insane. Whatever was in that cup is messing with my head. Annalise turned back but he was gone. Maybe she hallucinated the whole thing. Realizing she was either delusional or intoxicated, Annalise made her way to the restroom and struggled to get a hold of herself. With a quick shove, she burst through the door and stood looking at the girl in the mirror. Wild eyes stared back at her and tousled hair stuck out in all directions. She took several deep breaths and did her best to calm the chestnut mane. She fished in her tight pocket and pulled out her phone. How in the hell is it so late? Annalise fumbled with the numbers and called her driver. The spell was broken, she had to get home. She tried to reason with herself that this was just some guy enjoying his night at the bar. Am I losing my mind?
Annalise pushed her way back through the crowd looking for Marcy and the crew, but they were nowhere to be found. Did they really leave her? She moved through the masses twice, refusing additional shots. Still, she couldn’t see anyone she recognized.
Her phone vibrated, indicating the car was out front. Disoriented and still shaken from whatever that was on the dance floor, she decided to call it a night. This was the reason she didn’t drink. As she left, she took one last look inside. She didn’t know what she expected to find as her eyes scanned the room, but it wasn’t there. No one was looking for her. Still, she couldn’t fight the eerie feeling someone was watching, waiting. She practically ran down the steps to the waiting car, hands sweating, heart pounding. Slumped in the back seat, as they pulled away, the highs of the night plunged into a new low. Maybe I am just crazy after all. No one is coming to save you, princess. No one even notices that I am gone. Hell, even in my paranoid delusions, the only person searching for me is waiting to devour the broken pieces. The waves of loneliness crashed in like never before, and Annalise closed her eyes. One week to go. It will all be over soon.
Eight
“What in the fuck are we gonna do?” Dimitri leaned his elbows against the table in the meeting room. They had just met with the general the day before, and the senator was still not answering their calls. Preach had decided a meeting was in order.
Jacoby, Pyro, Knuckles, Robbie, and HB sat in their respective seats around Preach at the helm. No one else.
Preach took a heavy breath, his eyes sullen. “I always knew this shit would come back to bite us in the ass. Always knew Hale would fuck us. Politicians are fuckin’ snakes.”
“Here, here,” Knuckles added with a grin.
“And the problem is, we can’t very well rough up a senator, now can we?” Dimitri asked. “He’s got us by the balls.”
“Not necessarily,” Robbie said, his eyes meeting HB’s as he let out a menacing chuckle.
“What’s that?” Preach quirked an eyebrow.
“You know the senator’s family lives here in St. Louis, right? Seems Senator Hale went to D.C. on his own, so his daughter could attend some dance school here. They live in a big-ass house over in Clayton.”
“How long you been holding on to that information?” Preach asked, leaning back in his chair with a wary look crossing his features.
“Since we made the deal. I’m sure I told you about it.”
“Not to my recollection. So, what? Your plan is to take the wife?”
“Honestly …” Robbie hesitated, his eyes scanning the others around the table. “We need to take the daughter. Hale’s wife goes on a lot of trips with him, makes appearances. The daughter, for the most part, is a ghost. Not many friends. Nobody to really miss her.”
Dimitri put a hand up and said, “Wait, wait, wait, are we really talking about taking a woman here?” He looked toward Preach first, and then over to the rest of them. “When did we start taking women? Because I’m pretty sure my grandfather put rules against that in place a long fucking time ago.”
Robbie scowled at him. “Well, we very well can’t take a U.S. goddamn Senator, now can we, genius?”
“Fuck you, Robbie.”
“Eat my asshole, kid.” Robbie chuckled and Honey Bear joined in.
“All right, all right,” Preach said, motioning for them to settle down. “Dimitri, we don’t have a lot of options here. But I still don’t see why we wouldn’t take the mother.”
Robbie shrugged. “The daughter would be much easier to take. She spends most of her time at The Fox Theater. When her mother isn’t with Hale, she’s in the house getting loaded, and there’s no way we get into that house. It’s heavily secured, in a gated community.”
“How the fuck do you know so much about this family, Robbie?” Preach asked skeptically.
“Why you asking that like I’ve done something wrong?” Robbie snapped. “I did my due diligence, Preach, as anyone running an organization of this size should do. I knew the senator was an unpredictable, untrustworthy piece of steaming shit, as anyone running an organization this size should have known. I also knew the general liked to get his dick wet in pussies other than his wife’s, as anyone running—”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Preach put a hand up to stop him. “I should’ve seen it comin’.”
“Well,” Robbie continued, “while you were asleep at the wheel, I was coming up with contingency plans. One such plan was what we would do if our weapons deal fell through. And it involves taking this young woman.”
“You can’t be fucking serious here. And doing what with her?” Dimitri asked incredulously.
“We hold her for ransom. We owe the Mexicans what, three hundred thousand if we can’t get the guns, right? I say we mine five hundred out of this dirtbag. Maybe a million,” Robbie replied.
“And if he doesn’t pay?” Preach asked.
Robbie shrugged. “We do what we gotta do.”
Dimitri shook his head, slamming a fist against the table. “We are not really fucking considering this, are we? Killing an innocent woman? Is that who we are now?”
Robbie stared at Dimitri, unflinchingly. “This is an outlaw motorcycle club, Dimitri. One that operates in all kinds of illegal shit, and that currently owes a great deal of money to some real bad motherfuckers. You may not have the fortitude to do what needs to be done, but I do.”
Dimitri stood abruptly and leaned in, but Robbie remained calm. “It doesn’t take fortitude to kill a woman. It takes cowardice. And that’s just what you are, you rat bastard. A coward.”
“Dimitri, please.” Preach stood too and put a hand up. “We don’t have many options here.” He glanced toward Robbie. “When would all this go down in this plan of yours?”
“She’s got some performance debut in a week. Her old man will be in town for it,” Robbie said. “It’ll give him a week to pay. And if he doesn’t, it’ll be a great time to give Daddy a nice surprise”
“Preach!” Dimitri shot him a glare, his face red, his heart racing. “This isn’t who we are!”
Preach looked at him solemnly. He took a deep breath and then said, “We’re between a rock and a hard place, kid. And we’re out of options.” He glanced at the others, unable to face Dimitri, and it appeared he could barely stomach facing himself with his decision. “We’ll take a vote. Those against, raise your hands.”
Knuckles raised his, but Dimitri remained still for a moment, looking at the others with their hands down, his eyes staring through them, his top lip reared back.
“Fuck all of you,” he finally said, and shoved his chair under the table before storming toward the hall.
Preach said, “Dimitri—”
“No!” Dimitri turned back and shouted, cutting him off. “You guys should be fucking ashamed of yourselves.”
“Hey!” Knuckles said defensively, standing from the table.
“Obviously, not you, fucker,” Dimitri said. “But the rest of you, fucking ashamed. You just know, if it comes to it, don’t you even think of asking me to kill her. One of you can live with that on your conscience. Not happening!”
And with that, he was down the hall and out the door, Knuckles a short distance behind him.
Nine
“Annalise! Will you hurry up!” her mother’s voice bellowed up the stairs. “You are going to be late for your own debut! Heaven help me, girl, will you get a move on already?”
Annalise stood motionless in her bedroom, holding onto a stuffed bear she had owned since she was three. Tears brimmed her eyes as she looked around for what would be the last time. Sullenly, she realized she didn’t even have a pet to say goodbye to. This room, these things, would be all that was left after today. Her bed was made, everything in perfect order. The last week had passed in a blur. After the night at the club, Annalise had drawn even more into herself. No one could possibly understand the depths of loneliness and shame she felt every single fucking day.
The idea of making friends at this point was almost comical. What could she possibly share with them? It’s not like she could just choose to be happy. Life didn’t work that way. What did they know about real pain? While Annalise poured every ounce of it into her dancing, Marcy and the other girls had done their best to get her to be a part of the group. Their lives were young and free from all the bullshit she had buried so deep inside. They knew nothing of her hell and their efforts just made her feel more and more alone.
Annalise carefully nestled the bear against her pillows, magazine picture perfect, just like the rest of her falsetto life. The blankets hid the stains of blood and shame that would scar her forever. Bruises that would never heal remained just beneath the surface. She swallowed the pain and turned away before the images, memories, choked the breath from her lungs. She caught a glimpse of the beautiful girl in the mirror. Dark hair perfectly pinned back into a tight bun. Big dark eyes stared back at her. Only they could see the perfect paradise ripping at the seams. It was time to escape. Nothing could erase all the pain, all the lies. It was finally time.
She left no note. This was not about them. She had no intention of pointing fingers or leaving kind words to make them feel better about themselves. This was for her. For the first fucking time, this was only about her. Her body was a prison filled with so many conflicting emotions. Fear of the unknown gripped her but the thought of the peacefulness of the dark soothed and called her, like plunging into a deep endless pool in the middle of the night—cool, weightless, drifting away.
She looked at the pictures on the white wicker shelves. They told the story her parents wanted everyone to see. Annalise swallowed and bit her lower lip. How could she look so happy in all those photos? Norman Rockwell could not have painted a more perfect family. They conveniently left out the dark, ugly truth. She laughed for a moment imagining that everyone’s Instagram showed their true selves. Monsters didn’t just live under the bed.
She felt so empty saying goodbye. A hollow shell of the girl in those photos. She longed for the life that girl was supposed to have. Who could she have become? Would she have married? Now she would be nothing more than a fleeting headline. The pathetic topic of conversation for a week and then gone forever, forgotten as if she had never been. Her eyes burned as she bid her farewell and closed the door.
“Annalise, good God, you would think you’ve never danced before. Enough dramatics, let’s go. Your father is waiting in the car.” Her mother ushered her through the hall and down the front steps. Annalise followed along, already adopting the numb robotic survival instincts that helped her endure the last ten years. She settled into the waiting limo between her parents. The overwhelming clash of her mother’s Chanel and her father’s Dior invaded her nose and singed her eyes. She wished she could roll down the window. Someone should tell them you can’t cover up a black heart with cologne and makeup. She should know.
They were dressed to the nines, ready for their press photos. The proud parents of their little dance prodigy. “Now, we’re going to drop you at the theater and head to dinner. We’ll see you after the show. All our friends are going to be there. Oh, and Annalise, we will need to get lots of photos afterward. The press is going to go crazy over this.”
Annalise nodded absently. “I’m sure they will.”
Tonight would definitely go down in history—for her family anyway. Over the course of the two-hour drive, her mother droned on about this society paper and that critic. Her father occasionally interjected some tidbit he found motivational, but they just sounded like background adults on a Peanuts cartoon. She smiled slightly, knowing this would be the last car ride she would ever take with them. Mother and Father, they were supposed to the rock of her life. In many ways, they didn’t even know her. Mercifully, they pulled up to the St. Louis Ballet before her mother could begin a third round of listing everyone who wanted a photo after the event tonight. Without waiting for her mother to finish, Annalise climbed out clumsily over her mother’s dress.
“Annalise, careful with my gown!” her mother scolded as she carefully pulled the heavily sequined fabric back into the car, examining it for any damage.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” Annalise offered genuinely, for much more than a dress.
“I certainly hope you are more graceful on the stage,” her mother snapped, then added, “Don’t take forever after getting changed, okay? And I don’t want to hear any lip about the heels. You wear those damn toe shoes all the time, a pair of respectable heels can’t be that bad.”
“Goodbye, Mother,” Annalise called as she stepped away from the car. She didn’t turn around. No matter how bad her mother treated her, if she looked into her eyes … She wasn’t going to think of that now. The plan was set. She would never wear those damn heels, unless, she thought with a half-hearted laugh, they buried her in them. Fuck. Wouldn’t that be a riot?
Annalise walked into the building and made her way straight to her dressing room. “Annalise! Hey! Are you excited for tonight?” Marcy was bounding up the hall toward her.
Shit. Annalise had hoped to reach the solace of her quiet place safely behind the door of her dressing room. She wanted time alone with her thoughts before she had to warm up. No such luck. Every day for the last week, Marcy and the crew acted as if they were best friends. Hanging out, gossiping about this or that. Somehow, their presence made her feel more alone than ever. No matter what they said, it always sounded like the same thing over and over again. Here they were, the faces of the future, exploring the bright new world around them while she spiraled toward the end.
Her dreams had been haunted by the eyes of the man she thought she saw in the bar. Hell, she had probably imagined him. Still, it felt like he knew her somehow, like he was just waiting. She laughed nervously, but not at the pointless joke Marcy had just made. She laughed at the pathetic nature of her own twisted imagination. Here she was, dreaming up someone just as fucked up as she was. She was alone in her misery and madness but tonight, she would give them the performance of a lifetime. Annalise nodded and laughed with her new friends. Her mind and her course were set. The freedom of seeing the finish line came over her once more. The group warmed up, stretching and going over their toughest moves. Every step would have to be carried out with rock-solid precision.
“Are you sure about the final number, Annalise? If you have any hesitation, just say the word,” Stephen said. She could see the nerves building behind his crystal blue eyes. He had hurt his shoulder earlier in the week and dropped her twice in practice. If he messed up the throw, she could be seriously injured. He had rested the last two days and assured the director he was ready, but now he looked like anxiety was eating him up like ants at a picnic.
&n
bsp; “Don’t. Stephen, you’ve got this. I trust you completely. If you feel strong enough, then I am confident. You are one of the strongest partners I have ever had. Tonight will be perfect.” She placed her hand on his shoulder as she spoke.
His tense face softened, and he returned her smile, then took a deep breath before replying, “You’re right. We’ve got this.” He walked a little taller to his starting position.
Annalise stood in the wings as the curtains opened and she waited for her cue. Tonight was the bittersweet culmination of everything she had worked for and yet her final swan song, all at once. The music began. Like a wind-up toy, she moved into position. The theater fell dark and the spotlight illuminated her tiny frame. Like a figurine trapped in a snow globe, she twirled and spun endlessly for their enjoyment, longing all the while for someone, anyone, to break the glass, even though that would be the end and send her spiraling to the unknown.
“This is so fucking stupid,” Dimitri said, buttoning his dress shirt. He fucking hated suits.
“You’ll be thanking me later, when we’re a million dollars richer and not headless in some Mexican desert,” Robbie said, forcing the coat over his wide shoulders.
“How the hell did you even get these?” Dimitri questioned, holding up his security pass. In his time with the club, they had done just about every fucked-up thing imaginable, but impersonating security when the theater would be crawling with cops and the senator’s security detail was on a whole other level.
“Prospect Rodriguez has been moonlighting for some shit vegan restaurant that all these dancing fairies eat at every fucking day. Hangs out at the theater for a while without them knowing, after dropping the food off. Let’s just say, besides the security pass he was able to get his hands on, he’s also made off with a few pairs of panties too.” Robbie smiled devilishly. “Bronson just counterfeited the rest of the security passes from the one Roddy stole.”