by SR Jones
“You want a coffee?” Alesso goes for his wallet, breaking into my thoughts and pulling me out of the past.
Damen shakes his head. “You got a cigarette?”
Alesso does a bit of a double take. “You don’t smoke anymore,” he says.
“Friend, I’ve just been talking about my grandmother’s estate. I think I’m entitled to one. Then I’m going home and drinking a whole bottle of brandy, so you and Markos better have things under control for the next day or so.”
“Of course. You’re not on until Wednesday, already sorted it.” Alesso takes a packet from out of his jeans pocket, and I watch in fascination as Damen takes a cigarette and puts it between perfectly shaped lips before lighting it and taking a deep breath in.
I don’t like smoking. My father smokes, and he smells of it always; plus, it’s terrible for your health. But something about the action of Damen doing it, the way his full but firm lips form around the cigarette then make an O to blow the smoke out, is strangely erotic.
His gaze flicks to mine, and for a moment, neither of us looks away. There’s none of the faintly disguised impatience or derision he normally looks at me with. No, for a brief, blinding flash of time, something akin to fiery lust enters those dark eyes, as he takes another drag and blows out a stream of smoke.
I look away. He’s not the one I like, and good thing too. I swallow and try to calm my racing heart. I know for a fact if I pulled the sort of shit I’ve been doing with Alesso, Damen would either tell my father, tell Uncle Stamatis or … more likely, come to my room and tan my hide. He’d spank me, or worse—maybe he’d make me follow through.
Force me to act on the promises I’ve been making with no intention of backing them up.
Yeah, he’d probably do something like that.
His soul is as hard as his face, and I know it for a fact because I saw something I shouldn’t see once. And that’s why, being the coward that I am deep down, I reserve my rebellions and shows for the nicer guy.
Turning to Stella, I start a stream of conversation about shopping and when we can meet next, trying to let go of my discomfort. She chats back, glancing around her now and again at the bustle of humanity buzzing about us like bees around their hive.
Soon enough, I’ll have to head back home to the stultifying existence I live there. Mother will be on her second, maybe third glass of wine already. Unless she’s having her hair or nails done, in which case she’ll hold off until they’ve gone.
We have a chauffeur, and he’s parked five minutes from here. Although I dread being back at home, the ride there will be a nice distraction. Alesso sits in the back with me and Stella. So close to me I can smell the deliciously fresh, soapy scent of his skin. I turn to glance at him sometimes and have to clamp my lips shut; the desire to lick his neck is so strong.
God, I need sex. I crave it the way most women crave chocolate. I know it’s because I’m denied it, so it has become something of an obsession.
Yannis will only be allowed to marry me if I am a virgin, which makes me think he and his family are of the dark ages. Who does that these days?
That’s the bargain between my father and his father, made in blood, or so Daddy says. Then again, my father says a lot of shit, most of it not true. He’s a loser and a fake wannabe, and deep down I think I might actually hate him.
When he talks about the story, you can see how much he loves the fact he got to make a deal with a mafia bigshot like Lefteris Pappas. He tells me that they slit their thumbs and pressed their bloodied prints onto the contract to sign it. If that story is true, then they’re both ridiculous human beings.
Then again, so am I. I’m a twenty-one-year-old woman who has never had a boyfriend or vaginal sex because I’m not allowed. But I have had a huge German dick up my ass and fucking loved it. And I have given two men a blow job at the same time. All as a mighty fuck you to my parents for the bargain they forged in my damn name.
I’m forced to go for humiliating ‘health checks’ once a year, and I love lying there and letting them tell my mother how I’m clean and preserved, and all the while I think about taking the dick of some tourist up my ass last summer. Mother would faint, but Daddy would beat me, so I keep my dalliances to myself. I never mess about with Greeks, only tourists, and only when I’m absolutely certain it will never get out. I’m a cowardly joke of a rebel, truth be told, not some brave fighter openly trying to overthrow their repression.
My cowardliness makes this game I’ve started with Alesso all the more crazy and all the more exciting. I don’t know what he thinks of it. He’s never said. How can he? The poor man can hardly come up to me and say, oh, Maya, I saw you pull your bikini to one side and rub your clit until you came. I hope he masturbates to the thought of the little shows I give him.
I should stop it. Ought to stop it.
If I get caught, everything will be ruined, but maybe part of me wants it to end up in tatters? I don’t particularly like Yannis. Certainly, I don’t fancy him. The few times we’ve met, he’s been arrogant to the point of delusional, and sneering toward me and my family. I thought I could tolerate the idea of being his wife … on paper. In reality, though, as the event nears, I’m not so sure.
All I want, and I am such a walking fucking cliché, is someone to love me, and for me to love them back. My whole life I’ve been starved of love and affection. The various maids we’ve had are probably fonder of me than my own parents.
“You’re pouting. What are you thinking about?” Stella asks me.
Not wanting to share my deep-seated demons, I lean in and tell her. “Having to suck Yannis’ cock.”
She splutters around the sip of coffee she’s taking and narrows her eyes at me as Alesso and Damen look her way. “That’s twice in one day, bitch,” she warns as I laugh.
My laughter once more draws Damen’s gaze. He holds me captive with those dark, glittering eyes for less than a second, then glances away.
“You ladies about done?” Alesso looks around him, checking everything out. He doesn’t particularly like being out with us, says it’s harder to keep me safe in the busy city.
His eyes look so blue in this light. They’re a stunning color, and even more so against his dark hair and tan skin. He smiles to soften what is essentially an order to hurry up, and I almost melt. He has dimples and these lines that fan down from his eyes when he smiles. God, he’s absolutely gorgeous.
I glance up at the autumn sun then back to his beauty, which frankly outshines the big old ball in the sky. “I’m about done,” I tell him.
He and Damen stand, and I notice how much bigger Damen really is for the first time, and it’s not as if Alesso is a slouch in the muscles stakes. Still, Damen has two or three inches in height on Alesso, but I’d say quite a lot more weight, and all of it muscle.
“God, I want to lick him all over and then climb him like a tree,” Stella moans in my ear.
“He’s mine,” I faux snap at her, only half joking.
“Not your blue-eyed boy, the big bastard.”
Damen glances our way as if he heard, but no way did he. His face is back to its usual setting of moody and pissed at the whole world.
Miserable fucker, I think. She can have him. I’ve seen what he does to people with his bare hands, and it’s not nice.
Damen gives Alesso a hearty slap on the back, then nods at me curtly, as if I’m some employee of his he disapproves of but can’t fire, not the woman he’s hired to protect. Without a backward glance, he saunters off in the opposite direction. I wonder for a moment if he has a place around here? Not in Kolonaki surely? He can’t afford that, but maybe somewhere like Pangrati. A nice, middle-class neighborhood?
One day, he’ll marry someone and maybe stop working for my uncle, and he’ll get a job as a bouncer or something. His muscle will turn to fat, and he won’t have reason to be so fucking high and mighty all the damn time.
I shake it off, not sure why he gets under my skin so much, or why I let hi
m when I know how dangerous he is.
As for me, I’m heading back to shipping magnate central and the rarified air of Kifissia. Back to marble hallways, indoor and outdoor heated pools, maids, and carpets so damned thick your heels sink into them like grass on a wet day.
And I don’t want to go.
A visit to my uncle’s home is the last thing I want to do. Things are weird between my cousin Costas and me, and my eldest cousin, Mikhalis, is too busy studying these days to bother talking to me.
The atmosphere in the car is strained. Mother and Father have had a row. I can always tell. My mom gets this set to her jaw, and my father broods and chews his cheek the whole time whenever they’ve been arguing. They argue a lot. I’m a pro now at recognizing the signs. The only good thing about this visit is that Stella is with me. In fact, she’s the reason I’m even here, as she jumped at the chance to visit with my uncle’s family when asked.
We arrive at the grand house the other half of our family live in, and I once more consider how strange it is that my mother, who is so beautiful, married the shorter, less attractive, moodier and poorer brother. And that Stamatis married Helena, a perfectly lovely woman, but without the looks or grace of my mother. Let’s be honest, Mom could be a movie star. She has the looks and poise for it.
The car pulls up, and Father gets out, opening Mother’s door with an over the top grand sweep of his arm. He’s being sarcastic, and she plays along, getting out and thanking him with saccharine sweetness.
The door to the house opens, and Uncle Stamatis, Aunt Helena, my two cousins, and their Italian friend, Lorenzo, all line up to wave at us. I can almost smell the condescension at the poor relations from twenty feet away.
I pull my skirt hem down; it’s far too high, and Mother won’t like it.
We enter the house, and Stamatis stands aside. If you didn’t know for a fact he and my father were brothers, you wouldn’t believe it. They seem so different in nearly every sense.
As always, Uncle’s house is busy. It’s a weird mix of family home and mafiosa gathering place. He always has a lot of hired men around, and often friends of the family too.
He leads us down the hallway to the formal living room.
“How are you, Marina?” he asks my mother.
He is always so kind to her, in a way I wish my own father could be.
“I’m good, Stamatis, thank you.” She shoots him a glance that is almost shy. My mom can be such a goof around Stamatis; it embarrasses me.
We enter the formal room, and I roll my eyes at the little nibbles laid out on silver platters dotted around the room and the drinks chilling in ice buckets. At least it’s not a formal sit-down meal today. Those are painful. They didn’t used to be. I used to love coming here, but with Mikhalis thinking he’s too grown up to bother talking to me, and Costas being a complete dick, the time drags.
The adults mill around the room talking, and as usual whenever she comes with us, Costas makes a beeline for Stella. He likes her a lot, and she likes the attention.
I sigh, and head out of the room when no one is looking. Walking into the kitchen, I stop short when I see the three men sitting at the table, drinking coffee, one of them smoking.
Big, dark haired, and with an air of physical power that my fifteen-year-old self finds equally intimidating and sexy, they make my heart speed up. Whether from fear or arousal, I’m not sure. I stop, wary, and turn to leave. These men are not to be messed with. They are my uncle’s newest protection detail, and the word going around is that they are crazy scary.
“Hey there, Maya isn’t it?” one of them says. It’s the good looking one with the blue eyes and the nice smile.
“Yes,” I reply, my palms damp all of a sudden.
“You study history in school, right?”
I nod, wondering where this is going.
“Are you taught what caused the plague of Athens?” the good looking one asks. Alesso, his name is if I remember rightly.
I nod again. “The teacher said it’s most likely to be something like Bubonic Plague or Typhoid.”
“See,” the biggest one of the three says, smacking Alesso on his arm. He’s called Damen.
The other one, the quiet one with the worry beads and the sad face, he is Markos. I heard Costas tell Mikhalis that Damen could kill a person with his bare hands in seconds. I shiver.
“This idiot,” Damen gestures to Alesso, “thinks it was Ebola.”
Markos snickers, swings his beads around twice, then goes back to looking deeply depressed.
I contemplate leaving the room with a polite smile, but something about the look on Alesso’s face makes me speak up. I think I might have a bit of a crush on him. “Actually,” I say, swallowing hard as three gazes swivel my way. “It’s not that out of the question. A few people have suggested it might have been Ebola because of the descriptions of how people died.”
“Did you get taught that too?” Alesso asks me.
“No, I read it,” I say. “I like to read about things.”
Damen gives me an impressed look and a nod. “Good for you. Too many of you kids these days spend all their time on their phones or taking selfies.”
“Yeah, see, she’s a smart kid, and she says it could be Ebola, so go … erm … shut up,” Alesso finishes lamely.
I know he was about to tell Damen to go fuck himself, but didn’t because I’m standing in front of them. They see me as nothing more than a kid, despite the fact I’m fifteen and already wear a 36D bra. A lot of boys think I’m hot, but I’d be a lot more interested in a handsome man like Alesso than the boys at my school.
“Maya! What on earth are you doing in here?” Mother sounds scandalized, as if I’ve done something outrageous by wandering into the kitchen. “Your cousin is looking for you. Come.”
She doesn’t even acknowledge the three men, and I want to say goodbye, but I know she’ll think I’m stupid, so I don’t. I allow myself to be led out of the room and don’t look back. I hear them start up the conversation about Ebola again as we leave, and for some reason it makes me smile.
They didn’t seem all that scary!
***
I can’t believe we’re playing Hide and Seek! This is why Costas wanted me? To play a childish game. Except, this is an adult version of the game. Costas wants to get his hands on Stella, and his new rules are that whenever he finds her, she owes him a kiss. His Italian friend, Lorenzo, says he’ll get a kiss from me. Yeah right, so he thinks.
I’m not kissing him, he’s all spotty and lanky, and his hair is slicked to his head with so much damned gel it would ruin my clothes if it got near them.
Costas only bothers with me these days when Stella is around and, frankly, I kind of don’t want to play his stupid game. But if I don’t, he’ll find a way to make me pay. A pinch of my arm or a punch to my thigh. He used to be my friend, but these days he’s more like my enemy, and I don’t know why. It’s easier if I do as Costas wants and next time try to avoid coming at all. I only came today because Stella wanted to. I think she’s got a bit of a crush on Costas. I try to tell her he’s a huge dick, but she won’t listen.
I’m not doing this. Screw them all. With a huff, I take myself off to hide where I know I won’t be found.
Down in the garage. It’s full of luxury cars, and to the side of it there’s a big, empty basement, which is normally locked. There’s also a small room in the garage, and it has a door that’s always left half ajar. Inside, there is dust, a dirty floor, and shelves with nothing on them. There are boxes stacked against the wall, and an old mattress in one corner that Mikahlis, the older of my two cousins, allegedly put there to screw girls on. It’s comfy to sit on, if I avoid thinking about the human DNA on it. I head there, let myself in, and take out my phone. I bring up my game app and start playing an old school version of Pacman, with the sound turned down.
Let Costas and his stupid friend play their childish games; I’ll simply stay down here for a while.
I use
d to hide in here with Costas, and we’d spend ages listening to Mikhalis shouting for us, trying not to giggle. If Costas figures it out, he’ll tell Lorenzo, but I’m hoping he doesn’t. I just want some peace and quiet. I’ve got a headache and haven’t felt great all day.
There’s a bumping against the wall, and it makes me jump. It’s coming from the basement we’re not allowed into, I realize, and I wonder if it’s a rat or something. I look around with a shudder. It happens again. That’s no rat, because whatever is butting up against the wall is far too big to be a rodent.
Are the others in there? I shuffle nearer and push my ear to the wall, wishing I had a glass so I could press it against the wall to hear better, the way we used to do when we were kids. As I move, my leg pushes one of the boxes to the side. I fall and scrape my knees and am getting up cursing, when I notice the light flooding into the darkened room from a newly revealed vent in the wall.
Wow, there’s a vent from here to the normally locked room, and if I bend down, I’m betting I can see right in there.
I expect I’ll see Costas and Stella kissing. Ugh.
“I’m begging you.”
The shout is so loud I drop my phone and curse under my breath.
Shit. That doesn’t sound good. Not at all. It’s definitely not my cousin, and I’m not stupid—I know who and what my uncle is. Crap. I should get out of here, but instead, I make a terrible decision.
I let curiosity get the better of me.
I lower myself to the ground and peep through the grated vent. I can only see feet as they pace at first, but then someone hits the ground, and I stifle a scream.
There’s a bloody face not two feet from me. I panic and start to scramble up, thinking he’s seen me, but then I realize making noise is not a good thing right now, and he can’t see me as I’m in the dark.
Blinking, I stare into the eyes of a man who knows he is dead sooner rather than later. I’ve never seen such a level of fear before, coated with a sticky glaze of terrible acceptance.
Oh, this is awful. I want to be sick.
