by Bella King
“Jesus, Alexia, okay. I got it. No need to make me deaf.” I twirl my finger in my ear, trying to get rid of the ringing.
“Yeah, whatever. I’m not a fucking druggy.”
“And I don’t know those other Russian guys, alright? You see how it feels to be profiled like that?”
She scoffs at me. “I have good reasons to be suspicious of men like you.”
“Businessmen?”
“Men in general,” she grumbles. “I can’t get any goddamn sleep without someone trying to put their grimy hands on me.”
“Well, you can get some sleep at my place,” I reply. “Nobody is going to bother you.”
She looks me up and down, squinting her eyes again. “Why are you being nice to me?”
“I already told you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I’m a nice guy,” I say, not knowing any other excuse. She’d run screaming if she knew the truth.
“I’m not going to trust you, just so you know,” she says. “Maybe you should let me out here.”
I look out the window at the dark streets. We’re close to the city limits now, on the outskirts of civilization. She won’t get far here before freezing her ass off.
“I doubt you want to go out there,” I say. “It’s cold.”
“Better cold than in the hands of some creepy old man,” she says.
“Old?” I laugh. “I’m not that old.”
“You have grey hair,” she says, pointing to my salt and pepper hair.
“It’s not completely grey,” I say, running my fingers through it while I drive.
She chuckles. “Don’t get insecure. You’re not that bad looking for an old guy.”
I shake my head. “I’m handsome as hell, Alexia, and I’m not old.”
“Old and arrogant. I suppose it could be worse.”
“So, not a creep anymore?” I ask.
“No,” she says, tilting her head. “Not yet, anyway, but I don’t trust people that easily.”
“You don’t need to trust me. I’m just trying to help you out. It’s pretty sad to see a young woman like you in the streets.”
“Sad, pitiful, heartbreaking even, but nobody actually gives a shit,” she says, and I can hear the pain in her words. The world hasn’t been kind to her.
With all the suffering, the bad experiences, and the obvious betrayal, this is going to be harder than I assumed it would be. I thought I was getting her fresh, but there have been years of conditioning I’ll have to shake out of her before she’s willing to open up and accept me.
At least she thinks I’m handsome. That’s a plus.
Chapter Nine
Alexia
I’m pretty sure Zeno is the first person I’ve ever actually felt a connection with. Even if he’s some weird old businessman, he saved me from almost certain death, and it takes balls to shoot at a crowd of armed thugs.
I kind of like him.
Zeno looks toward me, genuine sympathy painted on his handsome face. “I used to be homeless, way back when,” he says.
A rich guy like him, homeless? I can hardly believe it.
“Are you joking or something?” I ask.
“No,” he replies. “I’m not. Life was rough back in the day. I got into a lot of crime and stuff because I didn’t know how to live right.”
“I don’t commit crimes,” I say proudly, holding up two open palms. “I keep my hands clean.”
“Well, you’re probably one of the few. It’s hard to survive out there without pinching a few wallets.”
I laugh. “I was right about you and those thugs. You must know them.”
He shakes his head. “Those days are long past me.”
“So, how’d you get all cleaned up and stuff, then? You don’t look like you’ve ever been homeless,” I say. I need to drill into this guy’s head to see if he’s telling the truth. If not, I’m sleeping on the streets tonight. There’s no way I’m going to share a house with a snake.
Zeno shrugs. “I got enough money, snapped out of it, and cleaned myself up. Got a job a little while later, and the rest is history.”
“You make it sound easy,” I say with a laugh.
“It wasn’t. I’m not judging you for being on the streets. We don’t choose that kind of life. It finds us.”
I feel like he’s speaking to my soul. Never before has a person talked like they actually understand me. Even at the orphanage, where they knew where we came from, they would act like I was there because of my own actions. Never mind the fact that my parents died before I was old enough to speak in complete sentences.
I’m a little weirded out by the fact that Zeno seems to be able to relate to me so much, but it also makes it easier to justify taking his offer of a place to sleep and a drive to California in a couple of days. I would love to get the hell out of Portland.
“We’re almost there,” Zeno says, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he pulls down a narrow road.
It’s dark here, so dark that I can’t see any of the houses along the road if there are any. It creeps me the fuck out, but at the same time, I don’t think that Zeno took me out here to kill me. He seems genuine, and besides, he can’t do any worse than those other guys at the factory were going to do. There’s only one Zeno.
“I rented this place because it was cheap, but they need to put some streetlights here if they want me to leave a good review,” he says, shaking his head as he slows the car to a crawl.
“I don’t see the house at all,” I say, leaning toward him to look out of the window on his side.
“I’m looking for the connecting road,” he says, lowering his voice. “I know it’s somewhere here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How long have you been in Portland?”
“Like a week.”
“And you can’t find your hotel?”
“It’s not a hotel. It’s a house,” he replies.
“Whatever. Your house, you can’t find it?”
“Do you see how dark it is?” he asks, looking back at me. “There’s not a single goddamn streetlight out here.”
I shake my head at him. I’m glad I’m not the only ridiculous person in this car. For having been here that long, I would assume that he knew where his own house was. That’s unless he’s lying to me.
Again, I start to feel discomfort and distrust rise in my chest. It’s hard to keep that at bay, even with trustworthy people. I’m quick to flee when I feel threatened, and even the slightest oddity from Zeno is making me feel like throwing open the door and dashing out into the night.
Except I would freeze to death out there in a tank top. I feel exposed as is, and it’s warm in the car. I couldn’t brave an entire night with my tits nearly hanging out in the cold. I’d be bait at the very least, and frozen solid by morning, even if I managed to find a safe place to hide.
My best move is to stay with Zeno. He has this power about him that’s comforting, as long as it’s not directed in a threatening manner at me. Then, it would be terrifying. He’s probably three times my size, and his arms are popping out of that suit he has on. He must be a gym rat in his free time.
“Finally,” Zeno mutters, turning the wheel and taking us down an even thinner road.
“Are we almost there?” I ask, starting to feel claustrophobic in the confines of Zeno’s car.
I’m so used to being out in the open that sitting next to a man for this long in a confined space gives me anxiety, even if I don’t think he wants to harm me. I’d like to get out and attempt to get some sleep by myself.
“We are just about there,” he says slowly, craning his neck forward in search of the house. “Ah,” he says, turning the wheel again. “Here we are.”
I look through the front windshield at the looming house in front of us. It’s three stories tall and appears to have been built a century ago, with the white paneling chipped and scratched from years of wear, and the shutters over the thick windows lopsided. One of them even looks like it could fall off at a particu
larly strong gust of wind.
“Are you sure this place wasn’t abandoned before you came here?” I ask as we roll into the narrow carport.
“It was, actually,” he replies, as though that were totally normal.
“I hope you didn’t pay too much for this place.”
He laughs. “Alexia, I don’t think you can talk.”
That’s true, but I can’t help but shake the feeling that Zeno isn’t telling the complete truth. Why would a businessman stay in a place like this, so far from the city?
It doesn’t make sense to me, but then again, nothing today has made sense. I still believe that the Russian men I’ve encountered today are somehow connected. Zeno showing up at the perfect time seems almost too good to be true.
Like it was planned.
“I’m assuming there are plenty of rooms in here, right? You’re not going to throw me in the basement or anything,” I say, gripping the sides of my seat as Zeno shuts off the engine.
He turns to me, his deep brown eyes growing wide. “Would you like me to?”
“Fuck, no,” I reply, recoiling at his words.
His serious face cracks with a smile, and his posture loosens. “Come on, Alexia. Try to chill out. I’m not a psycho murderer or anything.”
I shudder at the thought, but I lift my hands from the seat and fold them in my lap in an attempt to appear calm. “You never know.”
“You’ll have your own room with a lock on the door. How about that?”
I shrug. “I’m not worried. If you try anything, I’ll rip your eyes out.”
He nods, seeming impressed by my words. “Fair enough. I won’t touch you. Now,” he puts his hand on the door handle, “Let’s go.”
I push my door open after he does, stepping out into the cold. The air smells like dead leaves – cinnamon and musk, and it’s even colder outside than it was in the city. This place is like a graveyard, and the air is dense like one too. I’m officially creeped out again.
I stop by the car, keeping my hand against the frigid doorframe as Zeno walks toward the house.
He stops when he realizes I’m not following after him, turning his broad shoulders and frowning. “Are you planning on sleeping in the car?” he asks.
“I was thinking about it,” I admit.
“You’ll freeze, and I’m pretty sure the bears will eat you if you stay out here. I bet they’d enjoy a little human popsicle.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Sounds gross.”
“Oh, it is,” he says, his eyes growing wide again. “The black bears are pretty friendly, but they were chased out of these parts a long time ago by the grizzlies. Now, those suckers will rip your arms off and eat your face before you have the chance to scream.”
I jump from the car, looking over my shoulder into the darkness that consumes the street. The outdoors around here is infinitely more horrifying than staying in the house with Zeno. Even if he was just trying to scare me into coming inside, I don’t want to sleep out in the car.
I remove my hand from the door frame and slowly shut my door, looking back toward Zeno only because I’m too afraid to look out into the darkness again. Even after six months in the darkness at night, I’m still afraid of it. I probably always will be.
“Come,” Zeno says, his voice low and gentle. “You should probably get cleaned up before bed.”
“You have a shower I can use?” I ask, realizing as soon as the words leave my mouth how ridiculous I must sound. Of course, he has a shower.
Zeno chuckles, unlocking the door and waving his hand around on the interior wall to find the light switch. “There are three showers in this house,” he says, “But one of them doesn’t work.”
“Figures,” I say.
I follow him inside, keeping a good three feet between us.
I like to keep my distance. It’s more comfortable that way. I can anticipate his moves before he has the chance to turn around and grab me. Not that I think he will, but there’s always the chance, and with enough chances, eventually something bad happens. It’s basic statistics.
“There’s some leftover Chinese food in the fridge,” Zeno says as he slips his leather shoes off in the hallway. “I’ll go to the grocery store tomorrow.”
“What am I going to do while you’re at work?” I ask, my eyes scanning the hallway for ways to escape. I’m paranoid, but that’s second nature. I don’t think Zeno has it out for me, but I’ll always be prepared if he does try anything.
“I don’t have work tomorrow,” he replies, shrugging off his jacket. A shoulder holster swings down at his sidewith a pistol tucked in it.
“Are you a cop?” I ask, focusing hard on his gun. It’s different than the one he used before, which means he owns at least two of them. Why?
Zeno shakes his head. “I’m a businessman.”
“Sounds like something a cop would say.” I take a step back toward the door.
“Wouldn’t you prefer me to be a cop? I’m certainly not one of those street thugs,” he says, standing still in the hallway, watching me as I inch toward the door.
“I don’t know. I just don’t trust you,” I admit.
“Then you can leave. I’m not keeping you here,” he says with a shrug before turning around. “I’m just going to freshen up and eat dinner if you care to join me.”
The allure of food is stronger than the alarms sounding in my head, begging me to get the hell out of here. I trust my gut, but that same gut is telling me to put some goddamn food in it before I starve.
I could use a shower too. My head is itchy as fuck.
So, slipping out of my dirty sneakers, I follow Zeno out of the hallway and up the stairs, eager for the food and shower I’ve been promised.
I wonder if he has any old clothes that he could give me too. I wouldn’t mind a nice oversized sweater. It would be even better if he wore it first. He smells good.
Chapter Ten
Alexia
Coconut shampoo runs down my face, dripping into my eyes before I have a chance to close them. I tilt my head up into the stream of hot water, rinsing my face as quickly as I can so that I can open my eyes without pain again. I don’t like closing my eyes when I’m as vulnerable as I am now.
I locked the door, pulled and twisted the doorknob a hundred times, then turned the lock again to make damn sure nobody was coming it. I don’t feel safe in this creaky old house, but it’s even worse now that I’m naked. I feel like someone will come crashing through the shower curtain at any second.
But I know it’s unlikely. I can even hear Zeno on the floor above me, his heavy footsteps causing the lights in the bathroom to flicker every time he moves. He’s in the shower too, rinsing off the filth of the day.
My filth is much thicker, layers of sweat and dirt from weeks without access to a proper shower. Pond water only does so much for you, and I never had soap the entire time I was out on the street. I’m going to look like a completely different woman when I get out of here.
I lather up my body in soap three times, rinsing it off and scrubbing my skin so hard with a washcloth that the threads in it start to come loose, and my skin looks like I boiled it. At least I’ll be clean.
I pull the shower curtain to the side after my third rinse, searching the side of the sink for a razor I can use. Men’s razors are better than women’s, and it’s been so long since I’ve been able to shave. I just want to feel clean and smooth again.
An open pack of blue disposable razors is propped against the faucet. I drip water over the cardboard as I pull one out of the back of the package and pull it into the shower with me. Thank god for razors.
Some people don’t like shaving, but after being an outcast for so long, I just want to look like all the other women. I want to be normal.
Ginger hair falls to my feet, circling around the drain and piling up there as I shave every inch of my body. I cut myself more times than I can count, but it’s satisfying to feel the sting of the razor against my skin. It feels clean and
surgical.
Once my legs have stopped bleeding, and the water is no longer pink, I do a final rinse. I want to stay in for longer and soak up the heat, but once I hear the squeak of Zeno turning his shower off, I’m out of the tub in an instant. I don’t want to be caught in here naked.
I towel myself off as though I’m still trying to scrub dirt from my pores, but I’m unable to get any more to come off onto the soft white cotton. I must be clean now, and what a fantastic feeling it is. The air is light and moves gently against my sensitive skin. I can feel every detail.
I drop the towel and pick up the neatly folded pajama pants and sweater that Zeno gave to me. I hold them up to my nose, inhaling the deep scent of him – tobacco, leather, and the warmth of pine. I could fall asleep to his scent alone.
Once dressed, I snatch the generic blue deodorant off the sink and rub it up under my arms, smelling myself through the sweater to make sure it’s working. Goddamn, I smell amazing. I haven’t been able to say that in, well… never. They didn’t give us proper toiletries at the orphanage. I only ever smelled like a white bar of soap.
I look at myself in the mirror, amazed at what I see. Underneath the oversized emerald sweater, there’s a woman I barely recognize. I look fresh, and beneath the scowl that I always wear on my face, there’s a glimmer of happiness.
I want to cry.
I gather myself before leaving the bathroom. I’m not a pussy. That’s what I always tell myself. I’m a strong woman, and I think I’ve proven that already. I just don’t want Zeno to think otherwise, so I can never show him the sorrow that always lurks inside of me.
The lights in the bedroom rattle as I step out of the bathroom, indicating Zeno’s arrival downstairs. I shrink at the sound of him but force myself to leave the bedroom. I want food, and he promised me Chinese leftovers. To him, that might be a lame dinner, but to me, it sounds like heaven.
“Much better, right?” Zeno asks as we meet int the hallway.
I nod, pushing back a strand of wet hair as it falls into my face.
My head is down, as it always is, and I avoid Zeno’s eyes. I want to thank him, but I feel embarrassed that I needed to be rescued. He didn’t have to do this for me, and yet he did. Maybe there are some decent people in this world, after all.
