by Sonya Jesus
“I asked her out, but she turned me down, saying she just got into town. She had to find a job and a place to stay. That’s when I notice one of the ripped papers in her hand was for a house near Danvers, so I asked her name, and she left me standing there.”
I shake my head to hide the smile on my face. “Then what?”
“I was going to leave her alone, but a few days later, I found her again. She came into the same coffee shop, ordered a coffee, and ended up seeing me sitting on the couch.”
“How did she pay for the coffee?” We choose the recruiters well. They have to be good-looking, charming, social, and intelligent, preferably college students, because we ask them to note the small things—to always be aware at bars, at coffeehouses, at parties. Some know what we do, like Romolo, others just need a little extra cash. Most of them don’t care either way.
Romolo answers, “Cash.”
“Did she have the cash in her pocket, or did she pull out a wallet?”
“Pocket.”
“Did she wait in line and play on her cell?”
“No, she read the order board or looked at the ground. Her cell phone never came out until Danvers. After she ordered, I waved at her and asked her to sit with me.”
“And she did? Just like that?”
Romolo smirked. “Took a bit of convincing… She had coffee with me. She didn’t really tell me much, but she told me enough to know she was a candidate.”
“Like?”
“Her name. She had just moved here from California. She finally found a place to stay and was looking for a place where she could do some extra hours. She said someone stole her wallet on the bus, and she didn’t have her driver’s license or anything. I asked if she could call home and ask her parents to help her out, pressing for some information. That’s when she told me they died, and she was on her own.”
She mentioned this once. “That’s all she said?” I rub my jaw, easing the pain from clenching my teeth the whole time he spoke.
“She was almost in tears when she said she didn’t have anyone who could help because she was from a small town.”
“So, where did she get the money to pay for a place and to buy coffee?”
Romolo shrugs and leans back in his chair, resting his ankle on his thigh. “When people travel, they hide money in different places. Or maybe she had her debit card somewhere else.”
“Did she mention her chemistry major or school?”
“No, she didn’t, not even later on at Danvers.”
“You met up with her the same day?”
“Yeah… I flirted my way to meeting up with her at the bar. I honestly didn’t think she would show up, but she did and she looked hot. After that, everything went smoothly. I bought her a drink, dropped the drug, and when she started feeling the effect, I took her and her purse to The Farm. She got me a good penny.”
I clench my fists, recalling the payout, and hating myself for having condemned her to this fate. “You can go see if Franco needs help.”
He stands up, taking the glass with him, and stops at the door. “Boss?”
“Yeah?”
“She did something weird when she was out in the back seat.”
“What did she do?”
“She started singing ‘Happy Birthday.’”
With a flick of the wrist, I dismiss Romolo. I drop my head in my hands and shut my eyes for a moment. Her gorgeous face is glued to the backs of my eyelids, and she infiltrates my thoughts. I glance at the safe and drop my head in my hands, using my palms to rub my eyes. The pressure doesn’t squeeze her out or erase the image. If anything, she’s clearer now, and my chest aches to hear her voice.
The videos have her voice.
It’s a risk, but I get up and lock the door before plucking the first video out and placing it in the old VHS my father had. I load up the Bluetooth connection with the TV and set up my headphones, in case Franco or Romolo decide to come in here.
I hit play and lie down on the long couch, watching her on my TV, alone and in the dark.
She clings to the wall farthest from the dirty mattress on the cement floor. Her eyes evade the disgusting sponge of cum and tears and fixate on me.
“So…” Her voice cracks, and she cautiously steps away from me. “What happens now?”
The me on screen glances at the camera and then around the room, prolonging her inquiries. The silence irks her more than the truth, so I speak, “What do you think happens now?”
“I kind of wish you drugged me.”
My face lights up at the idea. “What if we played a game?”
She sighs heavily. “What kind of game?”
“Truth or Dare.”
“I never liked that game,” she says softly. “What would happen if we don’t play?”
I smirk and shrug my shoulder. “Pleasure for me…hell for you.”
She slides down to the ground and takes a seat. “Truth.”
“What were you doing at Danvers?”
Her eyes narrow on me, and she bends her knees, bringing them into her chest. She places her hands on them and rests her chin, looking straight at me. “I was looking for someone.”
“Who?” I snapped my fingers in the direction of the camera, for me to make a note when I reviewed these later.
“A lady, but it’s your turn.”
“Truth.” I pick to get her to open up more. For some reason, I was curious about her, and I liked to hear her talk.
“What is this place?”
“The Farm… We cater to specific needs and provide specialty items.” She’d probably ask those later. “Are you going to choose ‘truth’ again?”
She nods.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen. I mean, twenty,” she replies. “June eleventh is my birthday.”
I hold my finger in the air, and continue on, “How old were you when you first got your period?”
“What?” She lifts her head up. “What kind of question is that?”
“I’m getting to know you.” And her medical history.
“Fourteen.” She points at me. “Truth or Dare?”
“Truth.”
“Why did you bring me here? Why choose me of all the girls at the bar?”
My gut twists. “I didn’t choose you.” My words are harsh and callously delivered. “My spotter brought you here because you were marked.”
My turn to ask. “Do you have any illness or medical history of illness?”
“No,” she says softly. “I mean, I don’t know. I’m adopted.”
“You never met your family?”
“It’s not your turn,” she says and rubs her chin against her shoulder. “Are all the girls here marked?” She points at the door. “What do you do with the ones who have families looking for them or friends?”
“Yes, all the girls are marked.” I don’t answer the other part. “At what age did you lose your virginity?”
She shakes her head. “How do you choose the girls?”
I let her get away with asking out of turn. “We run your ID. We have our ways of doing research before picking you. We prefer girls who are out-of-state and alone. Now your turn. Truth or Dare?”
“Dare,” she says boldly.
I smile. “I dare you to answer my last question truthfully.”
She rolls her head back and rests it against the wall, her eyes gazing at the ceiling. “I didn’t.”
I hit pause, unable to peel my eyes off the scene. She wasn’t the first virgin to be condemned to The Farm, but she was the first virgin who I wished never crossed my path.
4
False Angel
Breaker
Kelsie barges into the room with Stone trailing behind her.
“Didn’t I lock that door?” I bellow, as I fumble with the remote to turn off the TV. “How the fuck did you get in here?”
Stone rolls his eyes. “Aren’t you a little too old to be whacking off? What are you watching, Costa Porn?”
&n
bsp; Shaking my head, I smirk and yank my earphones off. “It’s still concerning that you think about my dick, Little Brother.” The nearly empty bottle of expensive Portuguese agua ardente calls my name, and I stroll over to it, feeling the effect of its purity in my step. Damn, this stuff was strong.
Stone’s lip twitches, and he presses on, “I thought you’d be out fucking the Cabrali twin?”
“Apparently not tonight,” Kelsie says, as she sits her ass down on my chair—the one for the Boss.
Glaring at her with a tumbler in hand, I ask, “Who says she’s not here?” I take a sip of the clear liquid and watch the annoyance flicker across Kelsie’s face. Magdalena is one of Kelsie’s least favorite people in the world, and somewhere in her arsenal, she has a bullet with the woman’s name on it.
“Oh.” Stone brings the conversation back to him as he arrogantly places his ass on my desk and picks up a gold bar paperweight. “You thought I meant Crazy for Cocoa Puffs?” He flings the gold bar in the air worthlessly, distracting me from whatever jibe he has stored in the back of his throat.
“Put that down,” I warn him, my voice focused and deadpan. “I’ve had enough lip from my subordinates today, so do yourself a favor and swallow whatever shit thing you were going to say.”
He catches the paperweight mid-warning and shrugs. “Did you have to shoot the person in the fridge? I had two tubs of handmade Gelato in there. Blood and guts are not my toppings of choice.”
The serious tone in his ridiculous statement loosens my jaw, and I think the half bottle of liquor in my stomach helps the relaxation. I chuckle and breathe heavily before downing my drink. “Both of you, don’t touch my stuff.”
Stone places the gold bar exactly where he found it and joins me to pour himself a drink. Kelsie, on the other hand, has to put her two cents in. “This whole place belongs to you. Last time I checked, I didn’t have wings, so it’s not like I can float around here.”
Stone snorts liquid through his nose. “Your feet are made of lead, Kels. Even if you suddenly sprouted wings, your destination is already locked in.” He points to the ground, indicating the supposed moral resting place of all our souls.
All three of us laugh, no doubt remembering the ritual Sunday masses and Thursday night confessions we all attended until we were eighteen. As bloody as Costa Beneventi was, he was a devout Roman Catholic. Hilariously ironic, or maybe the alcohol makes it so. I guess confession made up for all the wrongs he kept performing. My mother’s suicide was just another way of pissing him off.
Kelsie shrugs, unburdened by the thought of spending eternity in hell. “I’m sure Costa is saving me a spot. Anyway…Magdalena? Is she still in the city?”
I take a long deep breath and make light of the sticky situation. “I think she finds my dick addictive.”
Kelsie grimaces but catches herself. “Well…” She uses her hand to point at me. “You’re breathing and you’re clothed, so I’m guessing she’s nowhere on the premises.”
I shake my head. “Not today.” Thankfully, she had business elsewhere for a couple of days. “She couldn’t keep up with my stamina.”
Kelsie eyes me curiously as she moves toward one of the windows. The one she chooses has a view of the pool. Strategic architecture. Costa liked to admire the women as they sat poolside in flimsy bikinis. The other one leads to a small grilling area we never used, unless company was over. Costa liked to point to the lit grill and say, ‘I grill the men who betray me.’
No one ever knew the verity of his statement, not even me, but I have a burn mark on the bottom of my foot, proving his flame lust.
“Thank fuck,” Stone mumbles, capturing my attention again. “I’ve seen your naked ass way too many times. No offense, but I rather not see the kinky shit that woman is into.”
“Magdalena does have a way of milking the prize—”
“Gross.” Kelsie stretches out the word, cutting me off. “I don’t need to know about any of those times. Ever.” Her eyes widen as she glances at me. “My head is thinking about milk and cereal now…” She jolts her eyes over to Stone, cursing him. “Thanks for that, asshole.”
Stone and I laugh. I sit on the armrest of the couch, lifting my glass toward her and using it to point toward the window. I’m a lot less boss with some drinks in me, and sometimes I’m sober and use the pretense of the alcohol to justify my momentary slips of emotion.
“Remember when we snuck in here?” I was thirteen at the time, they were a few years younger, and the woman Costa had been screwing had left the window open. We decided to tempt our fate and steal Costa’s liquor to get buzzed and play spin the bottle with the guests. Magdalena was one of them.
My chest squeezes, wringing out the emotions. Kelsie and Stone remain silent, no doubt remembering the first, but not the last, time I stuck my neck out for them.
Stone’s voice grows solemn as he says, “The Cabralis were all sorts of fucked up, even as kids.”
Magdalena ratted on us because she wanted Stone to kiss her, and it landed on Kelsie. Looking back on it now, I’m glad I never played. When we heard Costa coming, I told them to go. I locked the door from the inside, buying them time, and stretched myself out on the couch with the bottle in my hand. Costa knocked the sixty-pound door down with his shoulder and found me there.
He made me drink the whole bottle. Every last drop. I kept true to my lie, even though he waited for me to give up my friends. I didn’t, not even with the alcohol flowing through my system. When I finished and could barely stand, he yanked the empty bottle from me and whipped me with it, until the glass gave out and shattered.
He didn’t stop. He kept going until the broken glass was covered with blood and I was on the floor. Fabrizio stopped him and drove me to the hospital where I got a blood transfusion, my stomach pumped, and was in a coma for thirteen days.
I should have known then. Connected the dots. It had been Fabrizio who gave me the transfusion. He saved my life.
I struggle to swallow the massive knot in the back of my throat and look at my sister. I could use the moment to bond and reminisce about our youth, but my teenage years were full of gruesome stories. Sometimes my pain, other times someone else’s, but there was always blood. Always an undercurrent of fear. Cancer changed Beneventi’s body, but not his mind. He was a sick fuck, and he died a sick fuck, and in death, his ghost is still a suck fuck.
Magdalena was all his doing. Anger builds inside of me, and I glare at Kelsie. “I’ve been calling you two all day. Where have you been?”
“On an airplane,” Kelsie answers me with a bit of an attitude.
“Obviously.” Stone relocates to the chair in front of the desk, and both of them glare at me, waiting for instruction.
“Did you find her?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” Stone adds. “We found out a lot about Lyla Vaughn.”
Why is he being cryptic? “What are you getting at?”
“Lyla Vaughn died two weeks ago.”
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, and the rapid beating jumbles my insides, causing a mess. I should be relieved, but the stinging in my eyes is evidence of the pain stuck in my throat. I force it down by swallowing a few times, and get up to pour myself a double shot of the agua ardente. I knock it down, but it doesn’t burn on its way, probably because it aches all over my chest. Clearing my throat, I pinch the bridge of my nose, masking the tears straining to come out. “Good. That takes care of that.”
“Not exactly,” Kelsie catches me off guard.
I hate the way hope flitters around my insides, like flapping butterfly wings, tickling their way up my throat. With the amount of alcohol in my system, I should swallow a match and burn those fuckers alive.
“What do you mean?” I opt from drowning those damn butterflies and disinfecting my heart from niceties before making my way over to the other window, the one with the glass door that leads to the grill.
“Lyla Vaughn never left California.”
I slam the tum
bler on the windowsill. “That’s not possible. You messed up.”
Kelsie stiffens, taking offense. “I DO NOT mess up.”
I roll my eyes. “One word: Hayden.”
She growls something incoherent. “Leave him out of this.”
I chuckle mostly because I finally understand her defensiveness with him. A silver-level killer, an Argento, and she’s salivating over an unmade like his dick is dipped in sugar. “You’re getting soft.” And so am I.
“I’m warning you, Brother.” She wields the word like a whip, ready to strike me with it. Neither of us is comfortable with the familial verbiage.
“Don’t make a habit of using that term.” Not many people know the truth, and I prefer to keep it that way. I slide the door open and step out into the night air, being surrounded by everything Costa Beneventi is more intoxicating than inebriation.
They follow me onto the deck, taking a seat on the lounge chairs. The cold breeze feels good against my heated cheeks and calms me slightly, sobering me up. The area is secluded and somewhere past the wooden dividers is the guard station, but it’s much farther down, near the perimeter of the property.
“I’m sure as fuck not calling you ‘Boss.’” Stone plops down next to me and shrugs. “Just want to be upfront with you. You know, keep your expectations low with me.”
“My expectations were never high with you,” I remind him.
My dig rolls off his back. “Good.” He looks at Kelsie. “She’d rather knock your teeth out than start calling you the ‘B’ word too.”
Kelsie harrumphs and stands in front of me, eyeing the area as if checking for an audience. “I’m not a fan of calling you either of them, but I’m sure I can make use of the other letters in the alphabet.” She sits on one of the stools near the sink.
I dip my head in her direction and smirk. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
She nods and leans to the side, balancing the stool on three legs. “Funny, I wouldn’t recommend calling me soft again.”
The metal, sticking out from her boot, catches the outdoor light and glimmers. More than likely, she has at least two more weapons on her somewhere. Two in the obvious places, one where no one looks. Fabrizio taught us that.
