by B. B. Hamel
She lifted her head and looked back at me. “You’re back.”
“I’m back. Thought you made a run for it for a second.”
“Yeah. Considered it.”
“You made a good choice.” I walked over to the black metal table she sat at and dropped a magazine down in front of her. “Here you go.”
“What’s this?”
“Better Homes and Gardens.”
“I see that. But why?” She held the magazine up like it was dripping with lice.
“For inspiration.” I took out my phone and showed her the picture I took.
“Huh. Place looks terrible.”
“I know. But we’re working on it.”
“And this is supposed to help me think of what to do with the space when it’s time?”
“That’s the idea.”
She frowned at the magazine for a few long seconds then shook her head. “That’s weirdly nice.”
“Yeah, well, here’s the thing. That place is still yours, but it got fucked up on my watch. So I’m going to make sure that we make it right.”
She gave me another odd look and shook her head. “What’s with you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You go from calling my brother a piece of shit junky to… doing this. Just pick a lane, okay?”
I laughed. “You’d rather I was just a bastard all the time?”
“I guess so.”
“Too bad, little diamond.” I turned and walked inside.
She followed me into the house. “Seriously, it’s like two different people with you.”
“If you’re going to nag me about it, I really won’t be nice to you anymore.”
She winced and shook her head. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
“Then what are you trying to do?”
She spread her hands and I could see a strange sense of helplessness wash across her face.
“I’m trying to figure out what the hell’s happening here. I don’t understand any of this, okay?”
“You’re selling drugs for me, and I’m paying you. That’s all that’s happening.”
“I’m staying in your house. And you’re always…”
“Always what?”
“Looking at me.” She crossed her arms. “Is this stupid? Am I being stupid?”
“I don’t know.” I tilted my head. “You tell me.”
I could see the pressure she was under, and that one nice gesture must’ve pushed her over the edge. This was a lot to handle even for someone like her, and now she was trying to figure out how the hell she felt about it all.
But god damn, she was right about one thing. I wanted her, wanted her badly. Every time I came near her I wanted to touch her skin, kiss her neck, run my fingertips down her back. I wanted to see her moan and gasp my name and whisper in her ear how much I loved tasting her delicious curves.
She couldn’t rectify those things in her mind with the facts of our situation. It was starting to get under her skin, and I loved it.
“I just want clarity. About what’s expected.”
“Nothing’s expected.” I took a step closer to her. “You do your job, that’s all. Anything beyond that’s all on you. If you want something, you can have it, that’s a promise.”
She chewed her lip. “I’m not sure what that means.”
I reached out and touched her cheek. She didn’t flinch away, but her muscles did tense like she wanted to. I saw her suppress a grimace.
But her eyes said something else.
“It means that you’re right about the way I look at you. You’re right that at night it’s hard not to break into your room and pull the blankets off you nice and slow like unwrapping a present. It’s hard not to touch your skin and make you feel good, since right now I know you aren’t. It’s hard not to take away that pain.”
“You’re the source of that pain. You realize that, right?”
“Maybe yeah, maybe not. But I’m doing my best to make it easy on you. And I can do so much more if you let me.”
She didn’t move as I stepped closer. I felt my heart beating fast.
“You can’t just do one nice thing for me and suddenly I forget everything else.” She stared into my eyes. “I haven’t forgotten.”
I moved my hand back along her cheek and toward her hair. “And yet you’re still standing here.”
“Maybe I want you to come closer so I can hit you again.”
“I’d love to see you try.” I smirked a little. “Maybe I’ll like it.”
She stared into my eyes and when I dipped my lips down to kiss her, she kissed me back with a hunger I hadn’t expected. She took a sharp breath in through her nose and her lips and tongue met mine like sparks flying off a sheet of metal. I grunted, gripped her hair, turned her and pressed her against the counter.
Her breasts pushed against my chest and my other hand moved onto the small of her back. I pulled her hips closer against mine. My heart hammered quick rhythms in my chest and I bit her lip, made her gasp a little bit.
Fuck it drove me wild.
She pushed her hands against my chest and pulled back with gasp. “Owain.”
“What?”
“Please.”
I stared into her eyes. She didn’t need to say it. I released her hair but didn’t step back. She took a couple deep breaths then slipped away from me, her cheeks bright red. I turned to stare as she walked to the kitchen door and lingered there.
“This doesn’t mean I like you,” she said, not looking back at me.
I knew she couldn’t meet my eyes right now.
“Yeah? What’s it mean then?”
“Nothing.”
She left the room and went up to her room.
I stood there, half hard and trying to get myself under control. The girl was under my skin and I knew it, and still couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I wanted her, and now that I’d gotten my first taste, however small, I couldn’t turn away.
I needed more. And I’d get it.
10
Leigh
The bodega was a run-down corner shop with a faded Pepsi poster in the window and bright yellow sale signs. Owain leaned across the car and nodded toward the front door.
“Your palace.”
I frowned at it. “Doesn’t look like much.”
“That’s because it’s not.”
“You own it?”
“Been my little spot for a few years now.” He paused and put a hand on my thigh. “The Jackals know about it.”
I nodded and felt his hand on my skin. I felt a shiver run down my spin but I refused to look at him, even though the ghost of that kiss from the day before still buzzed on my lips and tongue.
It was like I lost my mind. I don’t know why I did it, why I pushed that conversation, why I chased him back inside. I could’ve let that nice gesture be what it was, nothing but a nice gesture, and yet I couldn’t help myself.
The bastard drove me crazy. He pissed me off one second then made me want him the next. I didn’t know if it was a game he played just to tease me, or if he didn’t realize the way he jerked me around.
It was still stupid. Kissing my captor. My business partner.
The man that got my brother killed. That threatened to do worse to my mother.
Handsome or not, he was still a demon.
“So I’m just sitting in the back all day?”
“There’s a TV. You’ll be entertained.”
“Sounds boring.”
“At least you won’t be actively pushing drugs, right?”
I snorted. “Not yet, at least.”
He chuckled and pulled his hand away. “Come on. Let’s go meet Sander.”
“Who?”
“Guy who works here.” Owain opened his door and got out.
I followed. The front door was covered in cigarette ads. The inside smelled like stale coffee and spilled beer. The shelves were jammed with generic products, and there was a small section for pr
oduce and meat products. It was a tiny grocery store, and I knew local people probably treated it that way. There weren’t big chain places all through the city like out int he suburbs, and people had to find what they needed at their local corner spots.
Fishtown was a nice enough neighborhood. Working class, a little rough around the edges, lots of bars and restaurants. Gentrifying, but slowly. Construction on almost every corner and cars packed along every curb. It was the sort of place I’d consider living if my shop wasn’t halfway across the city.
Or used to be at least. Now it was just a burnt-out husk.
Sander stood behind a half inch of bullet proof glass and smiled. He was an older white guy with brown hair and a pudgy face. His shirt was illfitting and he looked like he was sweating through the underarms.
“Ey, yo Owain,” he said. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. What the fuck’s up? You bring me a new employee?”
“Good to see you Sander.” Owain smiled and nodded at me. “This is Leigh. We spoke about her.”
“Yeah, yeah, we did. Alright, how’s it going, Leigh?”
“Good to meet you.”
“Charmed, I bet.” He laughed, a raspy rumble. “So you’re setting up shop in the back, right? Door’s next to the drinks freezer. Do me a favor, when you’re in there, restock the milk when it runs low, okay?”
“She’s not actually working here,” Owain said. “So don’t make her do shit she doesn’t want to do.”
“I’d be happy to help out. I have nothing else to do.”
Sander gestured at me with both hands. “This fuckin’ girl. She’s already my favorite employee.”
“You don’t have employees.” Owain pointed around them, noting the empty store.
Sander rolled his eyes. “You get what I’m saying, yeah?”
“I get that Leigh can do whatever the hell she wants around here, and if you think about bullying her into stocking shelves or something stupid, you’d better think twice.”
“You got it, boss. I wouldn’t dream of it.” He winked at me and I couldn’t help but smile.
He seemed like every other south Philly guy I’d ever met: loud, charming, obnoxious, but generally harmless. I knew guys like him, grew up with guys like him, and I have a feeling we’d get along fine so long as he kept his hands to himself.
Based on the way he looked at Owain, I had a feeling that wouldn’t be an issue.
“Get yourself settled,” Owain said. “I’ll be back in a little while, alright?”
“Sure. So I’m just sitting around doing nothing?”
“That’s the plan. Maybe go for a walk around the block if you want.”
“That’s dangerous, right?”
“My guys are watching.” He lingered close and put a hand on my wrist. I thought he might pull me up against him. The way his eyes locked on mine, I knew he wanted to strip me down right there and kiss every inch of my skin.
Instead, his fingers fell away and he left without a word. I stood there with a tremble in my legs, berating myself mentally for giving in to his bullshit. He was a pretty face, that was it, nothing more. I couldn’t go all stupid over him because he’s attractive and makes my stomach do weird flips every time he’s around.
I was a captive. I had to keep that in mind. I didn’t work for him, even if he said he’d pay me.
Sander came out from behind the counter and shoved his hand toward me. “Nice to meet you.”
I shook it and gave him my best disarming smile. I didn’t want him to treat me with kid gloves “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Come on this way. I’ll show you around.” He gestured as he walked through the aisles and I followed. “This here is your average bodega. Where you from, by the way?”
“Grew up in Levittown, but I’ve been in the city for a while.”
“Yeah? How you like being a city girl?”
“It’s fine, I guess. Same as anything else.”
He snorted. “Nah, that’s not true. City people grow a rind on them, you know what I mean?”
I laughed a little bit trying to envision Sander with his big stomach and hairy arms covered in a thick tough rind layer.
“I think I hear you.”
“We’re hardy folk. Harder than the suburb people. Anyway, this is the bodega. Groceries and shit. Your pretty standard stuff.’
“You get a lot of customers?”
“Sure, yeah, you’d be surprise. We do okay, actually. Owain doesn’t need to inject cash into this place and I get a nice salary, so it’s not too bad.”
He approached a black door next to the drink refrigerator and pushed it open. A short hall led past a tiny bathroom and into an open stock room. It looked a lot like the back at my shop: desk in a corner, shelves with extra stock. The only difference was the low ratty tartan couch and the old TV set up across from it.
“Tis is your paradise,” Sander said.
“Looks great.”
“TV gets most channels. I sprang for the good shit.”
“I appreciate that.”
He leaned up against the desk. “Help yourself to whatever you want out there, no charge. I’ll take it out of Owain’s account.”
“How do you know him, anyway?”
Sander grinned and tilted his head. “You curious about the boss?”
“I guess so.” I walked over to the couch and sat down on the arm.
“I met Owain a few years back, before they got all high and mighty, you know? This place was struggling then. The neighborhood hadn’t gentrified yet so it was kind of dying out, right?” I could see where this was going already, but Sander warmed up to the topic and paced around the room, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “I needed a loan to keep the shit going, but unfortunately, I’m what you’d call a very bad person to loan to. Banks won’t touch me with a twenty foot pole, all thanks to some shit I got in my past, you know? Some gambling shit? Everyone’s got a thing, and, whatever, you know, playing poker used to be mine.”
“Sure, I get it. Red wine’s mine.”
He laughed. “Healthy. So yeah, a friend of a friend introduced me to Owain, and he gave me a loan. Interest wasn’t too bad, all things considered, so I said fuck it, and dove in. I got lucky and a year later, things started picking up again. By that time though, I knew Owain pretty well, knew he was a legit guy, stand up, you know? If you don’t fuck with him, he don’t fuck with you. Can’t say that for all the guys.”
“What do you mean, all the guys?”
He stopped pacing and took a breath. “Mafia types. You know.”
“Right. I hear you.”
He laughed nervously and paced again. “So like a year ago, when things are good, he comes to me with this offer. A lot of money to buy the place, and I get to keep my job, keep drawing a paycheck. I just have to turn a blind eye to certain things, you know? Like pretty girls sitting in my back room doing nothing, supposedly, all day long.”
“You’re a front for him.”
He shrugged and ran a hand over his partially bald scalp. “Seems that way. I never got into the crime business, but it sure as hell pays, so I ain’t complaining.”
“Is he a fair boss?”
“Fair enough. Plays these tricks sometimes.” He made a face and gestured wildly. “Like these fuckin’ tests or some shit? Talks about it all the time. I think it’s weird but hey, whatever, his methods seem to work so I shut my mouth and do what I’m told.”
“I noticed the tests. He’s always been doing that?”
“Sure, says it helps people learn about themselves. You know what he did to me one time?”
“No, what?”
“He came in here with a mask on and fuckin’ robbed me. Fuckin’ robbed me! Can you fuckin’ believe that shit! Scared the hell out of me, nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack, the god damn bastard, but I guess I passed, ‘cos after he was done rippin’ me off he rips the mask over his head and grins and hits me on the shoulder and leaves. That’s it, no conversation, just b
oom, done.”
I can’t help but laugh. I shake my head trying to imagine Owain in a black mask robbing poor Sander, but it’s a pretty absurd notion.
“That seems a little extreme.”
“That’s just Owain. He runs those weird tests sometimes, but like I said, you don’t fuck him, he don’t fuck you. Leaves people alone, let’s them do their thing, so long as it doesn’t affect him at all. Always seemed real fair to me.”
“Sounds fair.”
He took a deep breath and stopped pacing again. It seemed like Sander had to always be moving, like a shark. A balding, pudgy shark with too much arm hair.
“Anyway. I should get back up front. Owain, he’s a good guy, you tell him I said that.”
“I will. I’m sure it’ll score you some points.”
He grinned and shook his head. “I don’t need points anymore. Me and him, we’re on solid ground. He knows what I’ll do and he doesn’t ask for too much. I give him all I got. That’s how it goes.”
He walked past me back to the door and lingered for half a beat, then shook his head and left. I watched him go, wondering how the heck I was going to survive the next few weeks or—god, hopefully not—months with that guy. But he was nice enough, even if he was a talker and a pacer, and I’d get through it.
I dropped down off the arm and slumped onto the couch. The TV stared at me, black and motionless. I heard the buzz of electricity and the hum of the refrigerator unit. The back of it stood pressed against the wall ten feet away with a small door attached to the side for restocking. I could feel some cool rolling off it, and I had a feeling I’d need a sweater once the weather turned.
Could’ve been worse though.
I took up the remote, pointed it at the TV, and hit the power button.
11
Owain
I took her to the bodega every day for three weeks and nothing happened.
Every day I thought, today was the day, today the Jackals would make their move. But at closing time I’d pick her up in my car and she’d give me a tight smile and shake her head. I’d drive her home, frustrated, pissed off, but still patient.
