by Sarah Black
Those light green eyes.
That sinful smile and plump, kissable lips.
Those abs, all that muscle.
Then his fangs. Fangs I don’t actually recall seeing, but in my dreams they are always there.
“Piór!” The angry roar of my boss shocks me back to reality with a jolt.
My coffee splashes from its ceramic home, burning my hand. “Shit!” I drop the damn thing and more spills out. I dart to the faucet to rinse my burning hand under the small sink.
“Piór!”
“What?” I shout back, not bothering to curb my annoyance. If he wants sass, then he’s about to get it right to the nuts.
“Get your ass in here!” he shouts across the newsroom, making sure everyone can hear his displeasure with me.
I grab a square of cheap paper towel, wrapping it around my hand, and march through the newsroom. I keep my head held high, not bothering to look at anyone even though I can feel their eyes. The sensation of being watched almost threatens to crush me. But they can eat my dust, I’m made of sturdier shit.
I tilt my head at my boss, raising a brow in defiance as I pause in his doorway.
“Get in here, kid.” He shoves an unlit cigar into his mouth. There is a no smoking policy, but Frank only rests the tobacco at his lips, never lighting it. I don’t mind it lit or unlit, the smell reminds me of time spent with my grandfather. That smoky scent that smells of home.
“Yeah?” I plop down in the chair, still holding my hand.
“Need a Band-Aid?” He softens his voice after slamming the door shut.
“Do I look like I need a Band-Aid?” I smirk, knowing the old man is just putting on a show, interns aren’t meant to be liked. Besides, the sting is almost gone now. “What do you need, boss?”
Frank slumps his thick frame onto his desk chair, still chewing on that cigar. His graying moustache, overgrown and out of control, twists with the movement. A traditional, military buzzcut is turning gray around the edges of his head, leaving the rest a dirty blond. Dark blue eyes hide an intelligence many of my coworkers mistake as arrogance. I’m not that kind of fool. Frank and my grandfather were longtime friends, I know better than to assume.
Those two could kill a crossword in under five minutes. Sure, it doesn’t make them geniuses, but it’s still impressive and I’ve never underestimated the man. He sees far more than he lets on.
That familiar thrum of grief threatens to pierce my gut. Of a time when lives weren’t lost and my family lived. I push it down.
Deep.
“You’ve made a friend.” The statement comes across as simple, but it causes me to groan internally. I know exactly what he’s talking about.
Or rather whom.
“What’s the damage?” I can only imagine what his highness demanded of my office this time. Probably payback for seeing him naked and fu—
I hope he doesn’t know about my little stunt.
“Valentino DeLuca. Owner and operator of Genesis.” He takes an imaginary puff on his cigar. “And he has his sights set on you.” He points his cigar at me with a grimace. I’m not any more impressed than he is.
“Okay, in my defense I didn’t know he was the owner.” This is a giant pile of dung I’ve stepped in.
“How? I’ve been sending you down there for months, surely I’ve mentioned his name!” Still, he puffs away on that cigar.
“Either I wasn’t paying attention...” I pause. “Yeah, I just wasn’t paying attention.”
“Now he wants you down there tonight for some shindig.” He crosses his arms after setting the cigar in the clean crystal ashtray.
I grumble, “I told him I quit. I’m not going back there.” And I won’t.
“This time he’s offering a grand just to you if you write this piece.”
That bastard. Dangling cash in front of me like he can buy me. It’s so damn tempting. Rent is due, payday is a week away, and my flats have holes in them. “No.” I shake my head. “As tempting as it is, I’m better than this and you know it.” Not only that, but something nags at me, as though going back will cost me my secret.
“Look, kid. You’re a great writer and perhaps I see a bit of me in you with that snark.” I’m serious, not snarky. He twists his salt and pepper moustache in thought. “But he must have known you’d say no.”
“He went above your head, didn’t he?” Billionaire playboys always thinking they can just get what they want. No care in the world. No consequences.
I can’t relate to that. Never could, and I hope like hell I never can.
“He did. Offered the CEO a guaranteed call on all new openings and donations. Includes those of his siblings.” He stresses that last word. I know how much that means. The DeLuca siblings own half of Philadelphia. “He did everything but buy the damn newspaper. All for you. So, I suggest you go home, get gussied up, and try to figure out how to smile without grimacing.”
“You have got to be kidding me. No, I’m not doing it.” I cross my arms and refuse to move.
“Unless you plan on quitting...” Frank trails off. He knows damn well I won’t quit. No other paper will deal with my mouth. I already got fired from one and left a reputation in my wake. Apparently, you need to get approval on articles and not just run them.
Who knew?
I’m only twenty-two, finding a job in this city is getting harder and harder. “I’m not going to quit,” I grouse. Knowing I need the money and the reputation. Especially since Frank took a chance on me, all friendships aside.
“That’s what I thought. Look, he wants you there at seven tonight. Earlier than usual, so count your blessings, maybe you can get home early.” He shoos me out the door. “Go on, email me the article from last night and get the hell out of here. I’ll see you Tuesday morning, but only if you show up tonight. No show, no job.”
Great.
I rise, feeling heavier than I had moments ago. I hate being backed into a corner, and honestly, it’s just depressing. Either way, I shuffle out to my computer, again not meeting anyone’s eyes. I email what I need to and shut my laptop down for the day. Even though it’s only two in the afternoon.
At least Frank didn’t ask what had happened that made Valentino so interested in me in the first place. Thank God for small mercies.
I leave the dimly lit building and step out into the hot July summer sun. I hold my laptop bag close and make my way down the street. My busted-up flats tap along the city sidewalk as I expertly evade the cracks and broken concrete. The peak of summer hit Pennsylvania with its usual flare of utter confusion where it can’t decide if it wants to rain, be a jungle, or the Sahara.
Utter confusion.
Heat slams me from above, and the air I breathe burns my lungs with humid, hot water. I walk the few blocks home in the scorching summer heat. My ire grows as I push through my apartment door, jingling my keys to the interior. It’s not safe, but it’s safe enough and cheap. The old building holds a charm that calls to me. Old architecture and hidden panels speak to me on an entirely different level, reminding me of ancient civilizations.
My heavy feet drag up to the second-floor landing and my apartment, the smallest in this building. Again, my keys find their home and I enter the dimly lit space. It’s really nothing more than a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom/living room. But it’s mine and affordable.
Prince struts out of the bath to wind around my feet in greeting, peering up at me in expectation of either fish or catnip. Neither of which I have.
“Sorry, dude, all out today.” The twenty dollars in my bank account is a heavy reminder that I need Valentino’s dirty bribe. I slam the door shut in frustration, not even offending my prince. He’s used to me slamming doors by now, looks like I have a bad habit. “It also seems like I’m going out tonight.”
I drop my bag, his offended meow slicing at my heartstrings. Well, what little of them I have left. Crouching, I rub his tiny wet nose before he even allows me to pet his black fur. Once my fingers touch
him, my timer starts, and when it ends the claws come out and he swats at me.
Prince must know I’m having a shit day. He prances away toward the small sunbeam along the back wall and my futon bed. No bloodshed today.
I don’t even have a closet to hold a fancy dress. But Frank said shindig. So jeans it is. Hell, I may even have time for a nap.
If Valentino expects me to get dressed up for him, then he’s out of his damn mind. A cruel smile stretches across my face. If he wants a game, then I’ll give him a game. I stomp over to my kitchen, yanking out a bottle of sweet red. The moment would have been perfect if I could remember where I left the damn wine opener. No matter, nothing will deter me from this moment as I plan it in my head.
As long as I show up, I get my money. Right? I’m pretty sure. My phone dings.
Poppy: Hey, watch your back tonight.
Unease squirms in my gut. I roll the memories of last night over in my head, but soon a sharp ache pulses in time to my heartbeat.
Me: What aren’t you telling me?
Poppy: Just watch your back, but don’t stand him up.
My stomach churns further.
Me: What’s going on?
I stare at the phone, willing her to answer me. But those little dots never pop up this time. I toss the phone on my futon and reach for my wine. I’ll chew the cork out if I have to. I’m not playing someone else’s game when I don’t even know the rules. The hell with their money and their evasive answers.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, Prince.”
“Meow.”
“Fine, and Animal Planet.” I reach back down for my phone, turning it off and preparing for an entire night of ignoring the world. Tomorrow, I’ll hunt for another job. It’s either that or I play slave to an unknown man willing to run into a parking lot naked.
Though that isn’t just it, is it? Again, something slithers inside my head, pinching and pulsing, struggling to break free.
And I’m no one’s slave.
3
Seven slipped past with slow, excruciating ticks of my wall clock. By then, I’d dented my bottle of wine as something about prairie dogs flickers across my television screen. Their little heads bob and weave like expert MMA fighters, distracting me for precious moments from that damn wall clock.
Yet, the heavens don’t open up and hellfire doesn’t spew down on me with each passing tick.
I wince at the thought of the hellfire Rodger may spew on me Monday morning, but he has to realize that I won’t be bought. Okay, I can definitely be bought, but it was my sister avoiding my texts that irritated me more than Valentino’s demands. My temper easily passes over what he would think. But it’s my meddling sister who annoys me.
She’s planning something, I can feel it.
Also, I dug my own grave by not showing up. At least I had enough hours to get my diploma. Even if I’m officially out of a job. Perhaps I can beg him to keep me on.
“Meow.”
“You’re right, Prince, I’m officially jobless.”
Rolling off my bed slash couch, I tiptoe to my little kitchen and pour another glass of wine. I can’t be too sure someone won’t show up at my apartment, and if they do then I’ll have to play dead. Or drunk. The latter is getting easier and easier to not have to fake.
Though I’d have to actually buzz a visitor in. Again, my shoulders ease. Why do I even feel guilty? I shouldn’t feel this way. I know I’m being used and bought like a cheap, knockoff brand of cereal.
But I still taste the same.
Pushing the wine away, I reach for a glass of water. My muddled brain is now referring to myself as delicious. I scowl at the wine. Such a lightweight.
A tap pulls me out of my internal annoyance at myself. Freezing, I wonder if I drop to the floor if I can go unseen. My knees buckle at just that mere thought, and I smoosh my face to the cool floor.
No one can see me if I play dead.
“What the fuck are you doing on the floor? Let me in.” Tap-tap-tap.
It takes me a solid minute to place that voice. “Aja.” Shaking my head at my ridiculous actions brought on by a solid dose of guilt, I crawl over to my window and unlock the damn thing.
“I forgot about the fire escape.” I back away as Aja gives me the stink-eye, her feet poking through the window first. “I have a door, you know.”
“I don’t have time for you to decide if I’m worthy of using the door.” She wiggles her thick frame through the window, her black leggings tearing with an audible rip. “You payin’ for that.”
Ignoring her jibe and refusing to watch as she tries to jiggle her boobs in, I head back to the kitchen to pour more wine, one for both of us. Screw the water at this point.
“You chose the fire escape, so that’s on you, Aja.” I spin with my peace offering, her scowl and squinty eyes doing nothing to make me feel guilty…though I’ve been feeling it in small doses more and more with each tick of the clock past seven.
“Gimmie.” She snatches the glass from my hand then moans to herself. “Tastes like sun sugar.”
Aja Davis. The only person in this world I willingly call my person. Heart of gold, but an attitude worse than mine and the mouth of a sailor. I keep her around for the latter, but I secretly know it’s all because of her heart. After our parents died, Aja’s family stepped up, taking us in and keeping us out of the system. She is just as much family as Poppy, maybe even more so because she chose to love me even when she didn’t have to. Especially her mama.
Even if we held ourselves at a distance, the secrets creating a chasm between us. But I know in her eyes she keeps her own secrets. Somewhere in there it balances out.
Aja chugs her wine then taps the glass with a ring, one brow raised and a head cock that sends most men running. Me? I just fill the glass until that brow lowers. Which means I fill the damn thing until she sips it to keep it from tipping over. Then I top that off.
We both know how this is supposed to work.
“Why’d you ghost your sister?” Aja takes a seat on my futon, propping her legs on my little ottoman and looking more comfortable there than I ever would in her leopard print night shirt and black leggings.
I flop on the floor, the only other place to sit. “Food?” Secretly I’m hoping she will feed me since I didn’t go to the club.
“Girl, you’d have food if you’d showed up.” Aja wiggles her phone from between her breasts, flashing it before unlocking the screen to show me a never-ending thread of angry texts from my sister.
“At least she replied to you.” I roll my eyes. “She never replied to me, and I knew she was up to something.”
“You’re too suspicious.”
I don’t argue that point because she’s right. And for good reason, reasons neither of us address right now. There’s no need to, because it always sits in the back of my mind on repeat.
“Yeah, well…” I sip my red, still hoping for food.
“Pizza’s on its way. Veggie.”
“You’re the best.”
“Well, I knew you’d be starving since you didn’t actually do your job. And your sister decided I was going to get the brunt of that.”
“How’s Christian?” I change the subject, thinking of her little brother.
Aja’s eyes light up, her whole face glowing. “You’re coming on Sunday?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Fact. Because Aja and her family always show up, I owe them that much.
“Can’t believe it, sixteen. He misses you.” Only six when their parents took us in, Christian always saw Poppy and me as big sisters. It didn’t matter, not once, that we didn’t have the same parents or the same colored skin. We were his sisters, that was it.
Tears blur my vision. Guilt, my new best friend, clutches my stomach, turning my sweet red sour. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“You can’t keep missing family dinners. Even Poppy shows up.”
Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.
“Poppy is planning something de
trimental to me.”
“She tryna get you laid.” The whites of her eyes pop out against her face, making her look crazed. It’s also far too telling that she agrees with my wayward sister. Though I’m not so sure that’s her true goal here. “That boy fucked you up and it’s far past time to move on.”
That boy happens to be my ex and the reason I took the first apartment available. I look away with a slight blush because our breakup didn’t destroy me for the reasons she thought they did. “I was a fool.”
“You wanted love.” Her voice softens, knowing the story all too well. “And fell for the first boy out of high school.” Or rather what she thinks she does.
Boy meets girl. Girl falls for boy. Girl almost kills boy.
I rub my face, ready to move on from that conversation. Changing the subject, I ask, “What did Poppy tell you?”
Her dark eyes sparkle with mischief, causing me to groan. “Did ya look?”
“I did not.” Confusion over Valentino swims in my head. Attraction and horror merging into something too dark for me acknowledge.
Aja cackles, her eyes alight. “Oh, you did look! Tell me everything.” She leans in, slurping her wine, the need to know in every movement she makes.
“I really didn’t look.” I swear to it this time, because honestly, if I had looked, then maybe I would have shown up tonight. I scrunch my face up as I pick at my nails, wanting to avoid this situation. This conversation and everything in between. Sometimes it’s better to just let things be.
I think back to the scene that took place last night, but a sharp ping zings through my brain, muddying the visual. Not just of his nakedness, but the entire ordeal. The feeling that something is off sits heavily in my stomach.
“You really didn’t.” Aja shakes her head like she just can’t believe I would do something so damn foolish. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or disappointed. Who the hell doesn’t look when there is a dick in front of them?” She points her wineglass at me. “And a man who’s known for his prowess.”
I cough into my wineglass, my eyes widening as I squirm in my seat.
“Oh. My. Sweet lunar goddess.” Aja slams her glass on the ottoman, the squishy seat barely keeping the glass upright. “Tell me what you saw.”