by Ryan Ramsay
Boy, what a mouthful.
“How about you, sis? What have you been up to?”
“I—”
“Sorry,” I interrupt. “Please. No lies. I want to know the truth. Be honest with me. You promised to make me smile. I think this is a step towards that.”
She mulls over the wine in her mouth and considers me. her smile, unfading, returns, and beams even brighter.
“No interruptions?” she asks cheekily.
“None whatsoever. Go.”
She drains the glass of wine and adds some more. She sighs as I watch. Then she breathes lightly, her nostrils flaring.
“I was at cello rehearsal when you left. I came home to find that note in my room, our parents distraught and in anguish. They really didn’t try seeing me after that. It was hard, with you gone and having no one to look out for me in high school. Mum really hit rock bottom, despite you sending letters and all to the neighbor’s mail so that they don’t get your forwarding address. It was easier for us to imagine you did not exist. It was easier for them, anyway.”
“We moved house when I was two years away from my graduation. It was hard. I had no friends. I had no family. I had no one to talk to. I was seriously, sexually deprived. There was no contact with the outside world save for random flicks from the internet, which till today I swear are not porn, and pets from the local shelter. We moved severally till we landed in Newport. That’s when things got interesting.”
“Mum and dad became recluses of society. Neither wanted to associate with anyone even from the church or local municipality. They went to work. Came back home. Ate. Slept. Repeat. They never had sex again, not that I know of anyway. Dad started seeing other women. Mum started seeing most men. We became ‘that’ family on the block. It would have been obvious for me to resort to drugs or whoring myself out there and blame it on them, but you taught me better. You taught me to trust that my mind was always stronger. I chose the church.”
“I can tell this is as confusing as fuck, but I’m getting somewhere. We are, after all, letting it all out in the open, aren’t we?”
I nod and take a small bite of the salad. My appetite is not doing so well.
“It started small, with just being there. I was told it’s the first step. I wanted friends. I wanted someone I could cry on. I needed a shoulder. And so the church felt necessary. I always knew there were broken souls there that I could find, dangerously desperate teens and oldies of all ages that clung to societal norms and expected too much of themselves. There, I found the youth ministry.”
“I graduated high school soon after I joined the team and started ministering to most kids in orphanages. It was easy to pretend being ‘in there’. I never believed it, but I guess that’s where my acting skills have come from. I once talked to a group of kids who were caught in some really nasty stuff. They were too young for it. I was given the role of counselor. What came out of that was a meeting with one of the event organizers. He said he liked my work, and wanted to know where I had come from. He promised he just wanted to see my potential, through. We got close. Not that close.”
“He made me his assistant. I loved the job. I traveled the country. Soon after, I traveled the world. I never really knew what his job was. He just met prominent people. Important people. He told me he took care of most of their needs, a service that catered to them exclusively. It was then that he tasked me on my first job.”
“I was to recruit a young girl, a virgin from my local church. I asked him why. He told me he wanted to run an experiment on the world. He wanted to understand love. He told me his clients wanted to too. I thought it would be a fun way to spice things up after hosting so many events in his name, from televangelists to rising celebrities. I got one.”
“He told me to set her up at a mansion in nearby Newport, where she would meet her lovers. I was confused. What was going to happen, I asked. He took me to a separate center a few cities away and sat me down. He told me to watch.”
“I saw how it unfolded. Two men were playing a game; random billionaires from Texas. They were to find a rubber duck hidden somewhere in the mansion. Whoever won would have the hand of the fair maiden. But they fell for the trap even before finding the rubber duck. The trap, as you guessed it, was love.”
She pauses and reduces the wine level in her glass.
“This must have you confused. How they found love?”
I nod. My appetite is long gone now. She gets on her feet and strides slowly past me, to the open balcony behind us. The moon hides behind a thick blanket of clouds. I wish I were on it.
“That right there,” she points north, “is exactly what I mean.”
I join her to her left side and strain my eyes.
“I see nothing.”
“It’s okay. You’re not meant to. What is a few clicks from here is a reserved island that took me a couple weeks to organize. On it is a villa that has all the amenities money can buy. Tomorrow it will be filled.”
“Filled with what?”
She moves her hips and faces me.
“You see, big sis, what I do is simple. I do not sell life insurance. I’m a matchmaker. I pair the best of the world’s richest men with the sweetest, smartest and most alluring souls they have ever seen. After my heart was broken by one such billionaire I decided to take all the knowledge I had gained and put it to work for myself, and started hooking up his friends and enemies with virgins, just to spite him, but it also made me rich. And I pair them to play a little pre-Christmas game of my selection. It’s a simple but expensive game of hide and seek, and the victor gets the money prize, as well as the virgin for the night.”
“What?”
“I played this game, dear sister,” she goes on unperturbed. “A treasure hunt, ostensibly for the treasure but it turns out that the virgin is the actual treasure and the actual prize. And I thought it was unreal. I thought the exercise was lust in futility. But something happens when my players get into the mansion. They fall in special kind of love. It is unexplainable. I still don’t know how it works. But I am living proof of it.”
She lifts her left arm up from the banister and reveals her palm to me; three rings connected as one, and at the heart a golden nugget.
“I didn’t just find love, sis. I found it and chose to keep it.”
“With three men?” I almost shout.
“Yes. With three men. And it works. I assure you it works.”
“Mia, why am I here?” I ask, reeling back a step.
“I am so glad you asked that. The surprise I had for you is the best of them all. There is a game tomorrow afternoon, and you are the virgin, the main attraction.”
Chapter 12
Peter
“And that’s what I said, but the chick kept calling me an armadillo!”
“Interesting story there, sir,” the chap responds with a light Italian accent.
His trade is simple. Keep wiping down the glasses while the client drinks himself silly. It would be awkward if he just sat there listening like a fucking psychotic psychotherapist. Trust me. They exist.
“Would you like some more whisky?”
“More is always better, Smirnoff. Say,” I ask while he pours some more of the good stuff. “Smirnoff is not Italian. It’s Russian. You have an Italian accent. How is this so?”
“Good eye, sir,” he says with a quick wipe of the polished counter. “I came here to work. Good food. Good women. Life is simple in Italy, no? Not many people can see the name tag from where you sit. Good eye!” he reiterates.
“Thank you, mate. So have I told you of the time a couple of buddies of mine ran naked into the pool of this really intense Vatican cardinal—”
“Three fingers. Neat. Something stronger than the watered down piss he’s having.”
Both of our attention turns to this woman whose brash tongue seems to have really hit Smirnoff’s emotions home.
“Hey, hi. It’s not watered down at all. It is really good st—”
“Am I going to wait all night for that drink, sir? Please!”
“What I think the beautiful lady is asking Smirnoff, with some form of intense politeness, is for some of the good stuff that you hide behind that counter there for the exclusive guests.”
She immediately cools off. I can swear there’s steam rising off of her. Tact is the way, gents. It always has been.
“I…I apologize for that.” She pats at her hair and tucks a loose strand behind her ear. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“We live in stressful times,” I say gently, handing the drink from bartender to second client. “Don’t mention it. I’m sure Smirnoff here has had more than his fair share of such.”
I watch her as she downs the shot bitterly. Anyone with a rough eye condition can tell she is no seasoned drinker. She wipes at the drops at the ends of her curvy lips, cringing at the soreness.
“You must be more used to sweet drinks.”
“I don’t actually. First shot.”
“No kidding.”
“Yeah.”
Her height is perfect for the body type she possesses. Astute waist with a fine thigh line that runs quite comfortably down to the back of her knees; an endless lock of hair that is loose and befitting the neck that holds it up; a face that is beautiful with no makeup at all. She is simply stunning. Or I am drunk.
“Where did you learn to order drinks like that?” I ask, trying to ease an already tense counter. Smirnoff is already tending to other clients at the far side, leaving me to the interesting company.
“Ma Baker, I think. It was long ago and it felt right just spitting it out.” She slides her arms across the maple wood and looks at me for the first time. “I’m really sorry about that.”
“It’s alright, really. What in the world could have angered you that much?”
And right there is the yellow hazard sign I should have seen from the start of the conversation. Her eyes glow bright and wide, and whatever devil mad her mad is back.
“I’m sorry. I have to go. Thank you for the drink.”
Just like that she is gone, back into the void that had thrust her upon me. I lean back and crane my neck to the left, watching her walk away in a huff with her elbows to the side and her forearms swinging wildly. Her hips sway different from a certain angle.
Huh. I never did suggest buying her that drink, did I?
It’s not a bad play if I’m smiling this much, like the idiot I am. For those few minutes, I forgot I was in pain. I actually felt good talking to the woman. I just wish for a moment I had gotten to know her a little bit more. A name would be nice to take back to the room with me.
“Don’t worry Smirnoff,” I urge the man, “her drink is on me. Give me a shot of what you gave her too.”
Chapter 13
Shem
The swimming pool water is always the right temperature when it’s time to leave. Arnold and I, comrades to the end, hang our towels by the neck and walk in deep conversation by the pool side. We catch up on old times, the life and everything in between.
“So two hundred heads of cattle a day, huh?” he asks, quite astonished at the number of asses I have to brand daily now.
Well, a little ways away farther than in between.
I dip my toe into the empty pool and watch the ripples.
“Funny how they do that thing where the look like actual waves,” I utter.
“Are you okay?” asks my bewildered friend.
“I think so. Nothing’s harder than your day mate, that’s for sure. I just sometimes wonder if this is just it, you know? Then this woman comes from nowhere and assures me that she has pics of my dick hanging about, and then this game happens, and now we’re in fucking Italy during the Christmas season, of all places. I mean, you did just see the guy with the gondola back there right? Does this not feel insane to you?”
“I would be lying if I told you I am okay with it. I am super anxious about it. I don’t even know if any of this is legal, but clearly we’re all consenting adults. We are not allowed to call home, not even for an emergency evacuation. Being in someone else’s hands makes me just as uncomfortable as you.”
“Do you think you’ll win?” he asks with his eyes fixed at some dry wall hosepipe.
“I hope so. Look, when we pit against each other shi happens. Let’s just enjoy the ride man.”
“Yeah. Enjoy the ride.”
I play around with the towel around my neck. He’s right. It only helps to keep this fun and casual. Go with the flow.
“I forgot to ask you anyway. How’s Iain doing back—umpph!”
Midway into conversation the funniest thing happens. I say funny because in a few minutes I will find my next actions laughable at best, pitiful at worst.
The most beautiful lock of hair brushes past my hair. But what knocked me off course and almost into the pool was the pair of strong shoulders that came with it. And I do mean strong when I use that carefully considered word. Arnold grabs my arm before he topples over. She swiftly spins on her heels and faces us.
“Excuse me!”
“Hey!” I start. Arnold gets between me and my big mouth before I get really into it.
“Excuse us. Miss. Sorry we were in your way.”
The woman huffs visibly before gaining her once swift pace away from the pool towards the reception area. My boy turns to look at me, his face confused.
“Are you okay man? She really came through hard.”
“I’m fine, bro. I’m…fine.”
**
Back in the room, I forget how we got here. I mean from downstairs to our room. My mind’s a little preoccupied right now. And I think so is my cock.
Let me flash it back a bit before I also get confused here. I was walking with Arnold when the most beautifully sensational creature bumped into us. I almost fell into the water. Clearly angered, I sought recompense. She turned. Her face matched with mine. All I could feel then was pure need to apologize for my brash move against her.
Funny, isn’t it? What the mind can accomplish with such a small moment.
I work my way to the bathroom, where everything I need is in here. I get to the mirror and wipe away the watery mist on it. I see myself. I see myself smile. That’s a good sign. The hand lotion and box of tissue is readily here, and the one image that’s stuck in the back of my eyes is that of the angry woman’s lips.
That’s all I need to get things going.
Chapter 14
Ashley
Fuck this shit. I’m out.
The one thing I never thought my life would head into and my own family pushes it as the agenda for my weekend. And she so fucking put it so easily, as if it’s lending a skirt.
“Fucking hell, Mia!” I find myself screaming at the empty hallway.
My breath is tainted with real alcohol and my actions more so. I think I’ve pissed some travelers here as well. A gay couple and a lonely middle-aged man at the bar, I think. Besides, it’s not like they mean anything to me right now. I will have no memory of what they said to me, or I them.
I swipe the key card at the door and storm in. The bags are unpacked and almost ready by the bathroom closet. I jump up, unnecessarily, and retrieve them. The next fast step is calling a taxi. I need a ride to the airport. Any airport.
I need to get out of dodge fast before my kidneys get on the black market.
“What are you doing?”
“Aargh! Stay away from me! I have no idea who you are or what you did with my sister, but this charade stops here. It ends now.”
Mia, or the devilish personification of who she has become, walks steadily towards me through the door. She makes it an effort to show me how easy it is to shut it behind her. The fear is back. It’s fucking back and I don’t know what to do.
“We can talk about this. I know it’s an uncomfortable proposition, but you will love me so much for it in the future I promise.” She stands at the edge of the bed. I am five feet away, fingers poised as claws. “Let’s talk a
bout this.”
“Fuck you, Mia.”
My. God. It feels amazing to finally say it to her face.
“What?”
“I said fuck you! Fuck you to the infinite power of eternity and then some you sick, delirious, sycophant tyrant and any other word that flows smoothly with a westernized–ism, which I’ll think of in a minute.”
She slaps at her thighs a little too gently.
“What? You think I’m supposed to let you just come into my life like this and happily throw everything away for the betterment of your purse? Jesus fucking Christ on steroids Mia! What the fuck happened to you? Is this what you call family time? The surprise of the decade? You wanted to sell my body out for money sis. How do I move past that?”
She steps closer, her eyes now visible under the yellow lights. They are wide open, something I haven’t seen in a while.
“You told me you wanted the truth about my life. You got it. I told you what I wanted. So cut the fucking bullshit and be honest right now.”
“What?”
“If I am so evil in your story, then why the fuck did you ever pick up my phone call? Why the fuck did you even come here? You clearly hate me so much, so fucking spit it out. What do you want Ashley? What the fuck do you want?”
The gloves are fucking off!
I jump the bed and aim for her hair. She slaps me first before I land aimlessly.
I retaliate, pushing my foot up her thighs. She catches it and throws me away like a doll.