The burning alcohol sears my dry throat and I cough, bringing my cigarette up to my lips and taking a long drag as my tired eyes remain on the poverty stricken streets of this depraved borough.
My hazy vision remains on the littered streets as that Esteban fuck emerges from his apartment. I want to charge from my car and shake him by the shoulders, yelling and demanding to know every detail, but I have to play my cards right. I can’t let him know where I got his name from. It’s all about games here in this city. Who knows who and when you play what cards. Life is a gamble. Some play to win. Others play to die.
Esteban spots me from across the street and I toss my cigarette out the window. He knows me from our conversations and pressings before. But there was never any story prior. There was never any sort of airing of dirty laundry. Now that the cat is out of the bag, shit has gotten real. He stops dead in his tracks, knowing that he has no choice but to concede and let me know everything that he knows.
I smile, letting my silver tooth shine in the thick, Mexican sunlight. Finally, I will get the answers that I have wished for.
“Esteban ya dejate de chingaderas. ¿Donde eata Caesar?”
I have pushed him into a corner. One question. One answer is all that I need. Where is Caesar?
“Caesar no esta aqui Arturo ¡te lo prometo.”
The dirty perra puts his hands up like he is begging for his life. Fucking flea knows who holds the cards of life now. I bare my teeth, the frustration and hatred that I hold is too much for me to handle. My sweaty hand wraps itself around his stubbled neck and I squeeze, just enough for him to realize how serious I am.
“No estoy jugando Esteban. Si no me dices donde está ese cabron yo encontrare a tu esposa y la despellejare en vida!”
I briefly imagine what it would look like if I acted out my threats, taking Esteban’s wife from him and peeling her brown skin away from her body until she bleeds to death all because he wouldn’t listen and be a good boy.
Esteban tears up. I can’t be sure if it’s from the pressure I am applying to his neck or the fear that he has for his wife. Humans are selfish creatures. They live and die for themselves. No one else. His face reddens under my grasp and I release. He coughs loudly, making my head pound. It’s taking everything in me not to take his head to the concrete curb until there are brain chunks all over the place, but I want to follow this through till the end. I want to see his face and the look he has when he knows his demise.
“¡lo juro! ¡Mateo! Su sobrino andaba con la muchacha.”
A nephew named Mateo with a girl? She must only have hours to live, if that. She will be another forgotten one. A skeleton that lives on in pieces of others. I must find her and stop this before it goes further. Then everyone can see a side of me that I rarely let go.
Goodness.
***
The warehouse is just the same as what it was three years ago when Fatima never came back out. My Fatima. My little girl who fell into the darkness of drugs. She fell and kept falling and would do whatever she could to keep feeling that. She resorted to prostitution to feed her habits, and no matter how many times I tried to help her, she didn’t want it. She belonged to someone else by then. The pimps belong to someone else, the cartels. I belong to someone else, the cartels. The cycle continues.
I should have fought for her. I was her dark angel. I would watch from the shadows at night to make sure she was safe even though I knew the life I wanted for her was one that she couldn’t have anymore. She would always be my little black haired sweetheart that made life decent. She made things not hurt. I can’t remember exactly when life changed. I just know that it is inevitable in a place like this. I still remember the night she was with that Spanish fuck. I can’t bring myself to think his name because he doesn’t deserve it. I saw how he looked at her. Manipulating her with his stare alone. I watched from my car while he puffed on his cigarette. I thought he would be like the rest, paying her for what he wanted then setting her free. But setting her free wasn’t the same kind of version that I hoped for.
I waited for hours and hours. It’s ironic how certain memories can take you back years. My gut feels sick as I see Caesar bringing her close to his body and kissing her differently. Men don’t kiss whores like that. Not unless it means something. They get what they want and leave. They pay to fuck and send them on their way.
Instead, she went into the same warehouse that I am staring at now and never came back out. She was a trial run for him. His back-up plan for his empire in his concrete prison of lies and hatred where dreams are made. He kissed her, held her hand, and brought her into that building. He came back out hours later alone. I waited and waited, only to be greeted by nothing more than Mexican mules with coolers. What the fuck, the thought is making me ill.
I became obsessed, unable to rid myself from thoughts of my daughter, despite where life had led her. I gathered everything about Caesar that I could, from his hometown of Malaga, Spain. He is the eldest with three sisters and he moved to the states when he was eight-years-old. Now forty-four, he makes his money off destroying dirty medical waste from the outside, but I am smart enough to know he is a red market king.
If he had children, I would want to find them and kill them. That goes to show you that I am bad too. Goodness only lasts for so long. I have to save the girl from being like my Fatima before it’s too late.
My breathing stops as two people emerge from a car and into the warehouse I have been stalking. Sure enough, it isn’t Caesar, but the resemblance is uncanny. The girl loops her hand in his and I have to calm myself as the vomit rises slowly in my throat. Images from Fatima’s last day alive flash before my mind with vigor. I see the way that the girl looks at the man, with longing and craving for acceptance. His look is hard and unchanged. She will never be enough for him.
My heart is beating out of control. I have been waiting for this moment for years. Now that it stares me in the face, I can’t promise I will play by the rules either. Irrationality consumes me as my hand meets the door handle and my vision goes black.
Mateo
Ghosts that kiss me goodbye.
Hugo arrives later that night with our new supplier and four donor bodies to be processed. It is not like with Caesar because they don’t want to come peacefully, instead they scream, bite and fight as they are processed and stripped of their humanity. Two of them will take weeks for the drugs to work out of their bodies, if they live that long. The quality of donors here is going to be a little lower than we are used to. I make Lettie watch as we process them, and she bites her lip and hides her tears as she stands next to me every single step of the way. Once the four beds are occupied and the monitors beep loudly, I feel settled and a strange sense of accomplishment.
“Get them tested against the waiting list,” I bark out at the doctor who happens to be closest at the time. I return to the office to pay the man for the delivery and arrange a few more.
“Next time, healthy. No drugs and I pay you better,” I remind him as I send him away with a giant smile plastered on his face. This is easy money for him. I cannot help but notice the defeated silence that is coming from Lettie as we are left alone in the small office.
“What’s wrong, Lettie Doll?” I ask her.
“This is wrong, it’s not like Caesar. He saved them, gave them death when they wanted it. These ones don’t want to die, they are scared and it feels too wrong.” She is crying by the time the last words spill from her mouth and onto my cold heart. I am not him. I cannot do this his way, it is time to do it my way, the easiest and quickest way we can right now.
“I am not Caesar, Lettie. I cannot do this his way. You need to accept that. I am never going to be him.” I storm out of the office, leaving her there. I wish she would let him go. I don’t want her thinking of him. I am afraid she still loves him more than me and the jealousy makes me seethe. I seek out my place of solace, the waiting room. I stand there and listen to the constant beep that has kept me company for so lo
ng, it calms me. I peel the sheet off of the girl that only hours before fought me with all the strength she possessed. She is petite and her soft golden skin is already losing its glow. I run my hand over her cheek and softly trace the lines of her lips. Her heavy breasts move slightly with her shallow breaths as I undress to climb onto her bed. I need this. I need to find the calm in the chaos and this is where I have always found it. If she wants to think of Caesar, I will think of them. As I kiss the beautiful Mexican doll beneath me, I hear the door open and swing closed again. I don’t stop, she made me do this. She needs to feel the hurt she inflicts on me, she can watch me finding my peace in another. Her pussy doesn’t welcome me like Lettie’s does. She doesn’t move beneath me or take anything more than what I give her. My eyes look up to see my Lettie Doll watching me, the tears falling freely down her cheeks as she watches me fuck another. I close my eyes and keep going, but I cannot find the satisfaction that I chase, there is no reward at the end of my efforts as she is just another body beneath me. She doesn’t want me. My defeat is excruciating as realize I can no longer get what I need from them without her and she killed the last one I shared with her. I am afraid that she would do it again, this time with malice as there is new monster being born in her. How is that she has managed to win again?
“Go away, Lettie,” I bellow at her to leave so I can finish what I started. I hear her steps as she retreats and when the door bangs closed, I slump over the body beneath me, unsatisfied and angry.
I lie there for a long time trying to understand why Lettie has changed me so much. Why I love her, why the weapon I planned to use on her is wounding me so deeply? I stare up at the metal roof above me and contemplate how much has changed so fast. I miss Caesar, but I also don’t miss him. I wish I could ask him what to do. My eyes close and all I see are hers. I feel her lips kiss me even when she isn’t there. I want every single bit of her pleasure, pain and sorrow for myself. Yet here I lie next to another, betraying her love again. The filth of what I have done begins to cling to me and I want it gone. Slipping out of the bed, I pull my clothing back onto my body. My head hangs down and I am heavy with the weight that love has forced on me.
I plan an apology in my head as I walk back to find her. I know I will never say it out loud, but I am sorry. I am sorry for so many sins that have been my life until her. My Lettie Doll. When I reach the office, I immediately feel the cold chill of something very wrong. The door is wide open and still swings a bit. Inside my new chair is turned on its side and lies empty on the floor. This is not Lettie’s rage I see before me. The drawer is open and my files and lists are all gone. The processing papers of the girls that arrived today have been ripped from the clipboard. As I take in the scene before me and I feel the urgency of the situation building inside me, I hear a single scream pierce the silence. My body moves without me telling it to as I run towards the only exit, the large metal door is open and the sunlight is streaming in. By the time I get there they are gone, only a cloud of dust remains, and Lettie is gone. I betrayed her and she left me. I told her to go away and she went. Her scream brings reality back to me with a violent punch in the gut - Lettie would never leave me, she was taken. My knees hit the dirt beneath me as the agony of losing her rips me to shreds and I feel the screams escaping but hear nothing but the static inside my head. Someone has found us. They took her and they will kill her to get to Caesar - or me.
Goodbye For Now
About the Author, Ashleigh Giannoccaro
Ashleigh lives in South Africa with her husband, two little girls and a zoo of pets. She is slightly obsessed with serial killer shows on TV and loathes purple sweets with a passion.
She likes to write the darker side of love and her characters are not very often the “nice guys” we expect in romance.
When not in her cave writing the next twisted story she can be found travelling her beautiful country and wrangling her two young girls.
About the Author, Mary E. Palmerin
Mary E. Palmerin is the international bestselling author of the Monster Series. She currently resides in Indiana with her husband and two small boys. She enjoys writing raw, taboo tales that strike various emotions in her readers. When she isn't busy writing, she usually has her nose in a good book. Mary loves spending time with her family and friends, anything outdoors, cooking, art, tattoos, red wine, traveling, and anything that makes her laugh. You can follow her blog at marypalerinauthor.blogspot.com as well as on Facebook at Facebook.com/succumbingtoscarsandsorrow. She also tries to keep her Twitter page up @MP_writer 8! Mary loves to hear from her readers!
The Goodbye Man (Red Market #1) Page 27
