Like You (Perfectly Flawed #1)

by Dunning, Rachel

  I start to understand what Axle meant when he first brought me here. Even I'm used to it being here now. In my mind it's become "that place by the McDonalds with a Starbucks across the street."

  I see Emeryk the Hutt standing outside Kama with some rough looking dudes and I look away. I get the distinct feeling he's staring at me so I walk faster.

  At the station I buy the ticket. I take the non-flexible option which is sixty-nine Euros—one way, no change possible—as opposed to the flexible one which is a hundred and twenty Euros. I gulp at the price. I've already spent the whopping two hundred Euros I came with and am well into Brooke's money that she loaned me. I try not to think how I would not have made it without even that bit of help.

  The train ride will be four hours long, departing just before six A.M, and arriving just after ten. If all fails, I can work through the night tonight and sleep three or four hours on the train in the morning.

  But it shouldn't fail. I'm making good time. The way it's going I should be done by late afternoon today.

  On the way back I call Karolin and tell her the photos of her look more amazing than anything I could have expected. She begs me to come over and tells me she won't get in my way. I can't say no.

  I also tell her that as soon as I'm back from Berlin I can take the portfolio shots of her that she needs. "If Thomas's studio is available," I say. "I'll have to check with him."

  "Oh, his fucking studio won't be available for me, that bastard!"

  Oh, shit. "You guys have a fight?"

  "No, we didn't. I just caught him in bed with another woman. And another man! At the same time!"

  There's really very little comfort you can offer someone when they say that...

  "I should have known," she says. "A man as good looking as he is doesn't settle down with a girl like me."

  I get to the gallery door. I think about the photos of her and him... A moment frozen in time. It's almost as if I have evidence, as if I can prove that they really were in love by those few shots! I feel like I should ram them in his face and say, Look! Look at you with her! You're in love!

  But that's not gonna happen. And it's not my place.

  "Come over, hon. We'll order ice cream and talk shit all night. Oh, on one condition," I say, "we talk in German, OK? I have to start practicing if I'm gonna live here."

  "Abgemacht!"

  I'm pretty certain that means "Deal!"

  I sure hope it does.

  -3-

  Turns out it did mean "Deal!" because Karolin arrives, her eyes red and swollen.

  She's a wreck. I try consoling her but she tells me to work because she knows I'm under a lot of pressure.

  And I am.

  I get on with printing the shots on The Hunter's own super-duper photographic printer. I bought a book in which you can slide one photo per page so that it almost looks as if it were printed into the page itself.

  German efficiency.

  Karolin sits against a wall on the floor and stretches out her legs toward me on. I also sit on the floor. Her toes peek at me from behind her platforms. She brought ice cream and starts devouring it.

  I try and hide the shots of her and Thomas but she asks to see them. When she does, she smiles. "It's amazing how, when you have the photograph, you have the moment forever," she says in German. It takes me a second to understand it, but I manage. She's enunciating more carefully because of me.

  I take the shot back from her and look at it. Thomas is biting the mushroom off her breast. "You're hot," I say to her.

  She blushes. "Looking at this photo makes me think so, too." She gestures with her eyes to the shot. "You made me look good."

  "It's not me who did it."

  "It is."

  "It's not!"

  She laughs and sticks a full spoon of ice cream in her mouth. With a full mouth she says, "It is! You're a good photographer."

  "You're a stunning woman. You can do better than Thomas."

  "Yeah, but he's so sexy."

  The next thing is too important to say for me to screw it up with my crappy German, so I switch to English: "And he's into anything with two legs—male or female! Look, I don't know much about relationships, but I know people's expressions. You get an eye for it when you take photos. He's lying to himself. He'll come running back to you. This"—I hold out the photo of them and point at it—"is not just about sex! This is..." I want to say love, but I think that might hurt her too much. "This is way more emotional than he pretends it to be!"

  She smiles weakly. Her eyes are so bloodshot. I wonder if I could take a shot of her as she is now and still, somehow, capture her elegance.

  But the lighting is all wrong in here. And I wouldn't do that to her. I wouldn't take a photo of her which doesn't show her at her best.

  "So, is there a man in your life?" she asks, changing the subject. "What about that Axle man? My God, what eyes... And what a chest. Shew!" She sighs wistfully.

  I feel my cheeks blush. Axle and I have an agreement. If a question is loaded, we don't answer it. I have no such agreement with Karolin. And something tells me she isn't going to let this one go.

  "I don't know what I have with him. It's... He's kind of what I need right now."

  "And what is that—hot, passionate sex? He looks like he's an animal in bed."

  I start to laugh nervously. And my skin prickles from all the sudden heat. I'm looking down, focused on the photos, not able to confront her directly. "Actually, no, that's not what I need." I stay silent, hoping she won't push.

  "And?" She guzzles down another spoonful.

  "What else do you want to know?"

  "Well, seeing as you won't tell me about sex with him, I want to know what he's like. Because if it were me, I would just want him for sex. And more sex. And more sex after that." She tightens her legs.

  I shrug. "He's...intense. He's real. What you see is what you get. No lies." I think about that statement for a second. "Yeah, no lies at all. That's what I need."

  She stays silent. "You know he has a reputation, don't you?"

  "What, like a Casanova or something? Oh, a Casanova is like—"

  "I know what a Casanova is. A Don Juan. I spent quite some time in England as a child."

  "Oh. I wondered how you spoke such a good English."

  She's been sticking with the English since I changed over. I didn't fight her on it because it was taking so much concentration to get what she was saying in German that I was worried it would slow down my work. "He does have that man-about-town reputation," she says. "But that's not what I was referring to. He's well known around the Red Light District apparently. I found out yesterday. It seems all the girls flock to where he's working. You know they rent rooms and stuff, right?"

  "Like the room we did the shots in. Yeah, Axle told me that."

  "Well, the girls pay for the room, and the more girls a place has, the more the place can make money off booze and stuff. As well as the rooms themselves."

  I snip away at my photos, put them into the slots. All the while listening.

  "Well, turns out that once he was working at this place. I don't know the name. There's like seven of them on one road. So anyway, a girl cries out from the building across the street. She's from some island somewhere. They speak with that Jamaican accent." She waves her hand in the air like she's thinking.

  "Trinidad and Tobago?"

  "That's the one! So she was up with some guy in a room she'd rented. Then she cried out. Axle heard it and went to the security guy of that building. The... What's the word for a security guy at a club?"

  "Bouncer?"

  "Right. Axle goes to the bouncer of that place. The guy told Axle to mind his own business. The girl cried out again. Axle insisted. The bouncer-guy told him to back off. Axle punched him in the jaw. The bouncer grabbed his leg. Axle kicked him in the head. Then he ran up the stairs because the elevator wasn't working.

  "She was being whipped. Hard. She didn't do—what do you call it?"

/>   "S&M? BDSM?"

  "Yes. The whips and things. She didn't do that. But the guy she was with wanted it. She had cuts on her back. Some girls do that stuff, you know? For money. She was kind of new at it all. Anyway, the guy knew he wasn't supposed to get into that shit with her. It's all agreed upon before they start or something."

  She waits for emphasis.

  "Gen." I look up. "Axle beat the crap out of him. The guy needed his jaw rewired, had two broken ribs, three broken fingers. One missing tooth. It took seven men to get Axle off him.

  "He would have killed him."

  I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think. "Wow," I say eventually. "Did he go to jail for it?"

  She shakes her head with a smirk. "The next day, the brothel Axle was working at was packed with girls wanting to rent rooms. Packed! They had to turn girls away there were so many. All at the expense of this other brothel where the security was slack. There were, like, only two girls at that one for the night.

  "Axle is nobody's employee. He's a hired gun. So he moves from place to place. Sometimes he doesn't work at all. Some girls keep tabs on when he's there and when he's not and don't work on the nights he's not there. The more desperate ones, unfortunately, have to work.

  "So, anyway, the slimeball at the top of this all—the one who actually owns these places—heard about it. You know, they don't care about girls being beaten. They care about money. And Axle brings money because the girls are happy there. So the big boss above—the girl who told me this said he owns all the brothels on one side of the street—he calls Axle in. Offers him more money to work at his brothels only.

  "Axle takes it.

  "Suddenly the guy who Axle gave a new jaw to decides to not file charges... Just like that. Poof."

  I keep looking at the book in my hands and trying not to sound too girlish at everything Karolin's telling me. When she keeps quiet I offer, "That's...interesting."

  "That's fucking sexy. I'd do him."

  I know she would. Especially after he stood up for her. I remember her hand on his shoulder in the car. Suddenly I'm not so jealous of it as I was before. On that night, Axle and I were just friends. Now we're more than that.

  Much more.

  I chuckle at how her hormones are talking. It's not what I'm looking for in a man—good looks, Alpha male crap. But I can't say I don't like it that Axle has all that stuff anyway. "Like I said, we're just, I don't know, seeing where things go."

  The truth is, we're just two broken souls who seem to be a little less broken when we're together.

  "How do you know all this stuff?" I ask.

  "I was walking to the train station yesterday and this"—she snaps her fingers—"Trini...?"

  "Trinidad and Tobago"

  "Right, that same girl, she stopped me and asked me what happened to that large guy the night we did the shots. You know, the one Axle rammed into that cage because he was being an asshole to me?"

  "The fat guy."

  She hesitates. "Well...yes. I mean, I'm in no position to call other people fat—"

  "Karolin, you're not fat!"

  "Anyway, that's not the point. So, that girl thought I was new on the job, you know. And because she hadn't seen me there since that night, she thought I was in trouble and afraid to work."

  "She thought you were a hooker?"

  Karolin laughs. "Yeah! Because we were there and then this dude got beaten up. And, you know, we were supposed to be all secretive about the photos and everything."

  I shake my head. "And what did you tell her?"

  "Well, I figured Axle might get in trouble—he looked really stressed out that night—so I told her thanks, and, yes, I'd been a little nervous about working again since that night."

  "So, you pretended to be a hooker so that Axle wouldn't get in trouble."

  "Sure."

  "That's sweet of you."

  "Hey, he beat a guy up for me. I'd do a lot more for him— Oops, sorry, I forgot you guys have a thing."

  "We don't have a 'thing'!"

  "Liar." She swallows another spoonful.

  "OK, fine, it's a...small...thing."

  "He doesn't strike me as the 'small-thing' type. I would imagine he's quite huge."

  I blush. "Oh, Karolin, I can tell we're gonna be good friends."

  "I hope so."

  "The hooker you spoke to, did she have blue fingernails? Long?"

  "Yes, she did!"

  "I think her name's Alicia."

  "Ah, that's right! She told me. I'm no good with names."

  My mind drifts. I think of Axle's huge muscles. I think of his stormy eyes and how they can blacken so quickly. It makes sense what Karolin says. I can see him beating the crap out of someone because he was hurting a girl.

  I start getting warm. I start to blush.

  Karolin notices. "Admit it, you're fucking hot for him now that I've told you, aren't you?"

  "Am not."

  "Then why aren't you looking at me?"

  I force myself to look at her and crack up laughing when I do.

  "Told you! Damn, I was so horny when this Alicia told me. I'm fucking wet for him right now just talking to you about it. I need to change my underwear." She gulps down another spoonful.

  "So, I take it you're feeling better then."

  She smiles. "I am. Perving over your boyfriend and burying my sorrows in creamy sugar has helped a lot."

  "Any time. But he's not my boyfriend."

  "Keep telling yourself that, babe. Anyway." She gets up. "Ice cream's finished. I'll now go and load up on some alcoholic calories at the local kneipe."

  "The what?"

  "The local pub." She wipes her hands on her jeans.

  "I'd offer you some company but I need to make sure I have everything ready for tomorrow."

  "No problem, I'm sure I'll find a warm body for tonight."

  Just before she closes the door, I say, "Hey, I'm really looking forward to us hanging out sometime. As friends."

  "Me too. But the first time we hang out, drinks are on you. You've seen me naked. It's only fair."

  "Well, if I don't get this deal tomorrow I'll probably be serving you the drinks. As a waitress."

  "Oh, don't worry, schatz. When I become a famous model, and then a famous actress, because of your photos, you'll have more deals coming in than you can count."

  If there's one thing people never give up on, it's their dreams.

  Dreams are like food.

  CHAPTER 31

  -1-

  A.

  Nov. 16, 2013 — Early Saturday Evening

  My arms are burning and my fingers are rough from lifting and placing roof tiles all day. I told Gen it'd be a whole-day job to be safe but I had no idea it would literally take the entire day to get it done!

  It was a mammoth job. Redoing the entire roof. And almost a thousand Euros in my pocket per day. With more to do on Monday.

  And that's only my cut. Maybe I should become a master roofer. I can't imagine what the guy I work with is pulling in.

  I get up to my apartment and decide I'll shower because I must smell like a slowly rotting corpse.

  I stick my key in the door and see that it was only bolted once. Strange, because I always bolt it twice.

  When I get in, and the bat hits me in the stomach, I realize I probably should've paid more attention to that minor detail about the door bolt.

  -2-

  I'm bent forward, winded. Whoever slammed me caught me by surprise. I can't scream out, can't talk, can't even breathe. I'm struggling for air. My chest is tightening. Then I feel fists slam against my upper back. The pain makes me delirious. White spots cover my vision. The ache stings all the way down my spine and to my ass. Then my legs.

  I fall face down but manage to get my hands to the ground to cushion my landing.

  A boot goes into my stomach. Slam. I'm so winded I can't even growl in pain properly.

  I still can't breathe.

  Slam! Another boot to
the stomach.

  My vision is blurry. I look up, see the punk kicking me. His skin is so pale he could star in The Vampire Diaries. Looks Eastern Bloc. Must be one of Emeryk's friends.

  I didn't know he had any.

  Slam!

  It hurts like a mofo but at least I'm getting air into my lungs now.

  He lifts his bat up. I see two of him suddenly. I see the bat coming down toward my ribcage.

  I move!

  Slam! The bat hits the floor! Crack!

  He lifts it up again. Swing! To my head! I duck. Swing! Back again. I duck again! While in a ducked position I ram into his skinny ass with my shoulder and push like a bull toward the wall. Crash! The bat falls with a clang! Books cascade down from some shelving above him and it blocks my sight. I'm still a little winded. But so is he now.

  I land one heavy blow into his stomach. He gurgles. Blood trickles out his mouth. Then I land another. Crush!

  I grab the top of his shirt, pull him a little toward me and then crunch him back into the wall. His eyes roll.

  "You stay awake you motherfucker!" I roar. I taste the blood in my own mouth. A little of it seeps out to my lips. My chest burns. "Who sent you?"

  He says nothing. He's almost passing out.

  "Who sent you!?"

  I cock my arm back, ready to catapult my fist through his nose and make a hole the size of a crater in his flat face.

  Then I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked behind me. "That's enough."

  All blood flows out of my arm.

  "Axle, enough," says the voice again.

  I recognize it. "What's up, punk?" I say.

  "I told you. Name is Em."

  "Name is Jelly Roll," I say, mocking his atrocious English.

  "Shut da fuck up, punk! You da punk! Me no punk! You da punk! Put hands up and turn!"

  I do it, slowly. Maybe I should shut my smart mouth now. Fatboy Slim here does have a gun, after all.

  I see two more guys next to him, each as Eastern Bloc looking as the other. It crosses my mind to say, Did you decide to bring your wives? But I bite my tongue, literally.

  My smart mouth never did do me any good.

  "I told you Konrad not able fight Axle," says one of the goons. "Not even with bat."