by Anne Connor
I can think of a perfect fucking way for her to make that money. But I shouldn't want it. I can't want it. She's too fucking perfect for me to sink my teeth into. She'll break.
But I couldn't let that prick have her, either.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. The boss wants his money.
He's a mercurial fuck.
The cash, Sean, he texts me. I'm sending some men to collect from you.
I gave the girl until tomorrow. She’s just a kid, I shoot back.
I think that should be enough to head him off, but it isn't.
No extensions and no excuses.
My heart lurches and I scan my immediate surroundings for her. The floor of this casino is one of the biggest on the strip, and I can't see her near any of the table games. I've let her out of my sight for a moment and I regret it.
My uncle is merciless and cold. She’s just a kid, but why should that matter? She’s young, but she owes. The fact that it’s her father’s debt matters not at all to my uncle.
My father didn’t want me joining the family business. He said it wasn’t the family he wanted to raise. He said it wasn’t what he wanted for his legacy.
But it was tempting. It called to the darkness inside me. My uncle’s sons have been like brothers to me, more than cousins. They said cousins are your first friends. For me, my cousins were my first introduction into this. As soon as I was old enough for my dick to get hard. As soon as I was old enough to get the taste for the adrenaline. The feeling of a gun in my hand and the steel against my skin.
My uncle counts his children and me as his flesh, no distinction between us. And I know he would think the same of Cherry and her father - if he gave one thought to either of them at all. For him, all they represent is an unpaid debt and a line on his balance sheet that needs to be leveled, evened out.
Cherry red. I see her bolt across the floor to one of the roulette tables. She’d be better off with blackjack. Over the course of enough time, the house wins, but over the short term you can make some cash fast with it if you know when to hit and when to stand.
You have to be principled for blackjack. That’s why I like it.
I track Cherry with my eyes and I feel myself pierce into her as she turns to meet my gaze. But she doesn’t stop. She pursues her goal. She keeps walking - fast - and makes her way to the roulette wheel.
Passing the floor fast, I feel the earth shake under my feet as I grind my way through the crowd, clapping a few drunk boys on the back as I weave through them. I push my body through the crowd roughly. I can barely feel any of them against me. She’s in my crosshairs.
This game has gone on long enough. The bass of the music from the nearby bar swells against my ears as I see her pull open her bag with her small, delicate hands. She props herself up with one elbow. She isn’t bruised or broken on the outside. She looks like perfection. A few men near her - maybe a son, his father and uncle - look at her and pass each other knowing glances.
Someone like that for you, son.
After the shit she tried to pull with Cullins moments ago, I’m surprised she isn’t standing next to them and trying to pick one of them up.
I walk over and come up behind her. I see her pure white neck and tendrils of her hair thrown up on the crown of her head. I should sink my fingers into the back of her neck and drag her off the floor and bring her somewhere...somewhere.
But where? My heart becomes frantic as I see her pull out a wad of cash and trade it in for chips. I observe her intently, my fucking heart threatening to crash out of my body. I wrap my arms across my chest and feel the blood rush through my head, in my ears.
I feel my cock stir as she leans over the table playfully at the three men, the generations of assholes looking at her.
They don’t know her. They don’t know shit about her.
But she’s doing what she needs to.
She makes me harder as I drag my eyes down her back, down the little dip when where her waist nips in. She’s wearing a fucking corset and black leather pants. They look like they’ve been painted onto her ass.
She turns her head and sees me behind her, and I swear a see a perverse little smirk spread out from the corner of her lip. And then her eyes shift and she looks beyond me and behind me and I feel my heart lurch into my throat.
She bends over and grabs her chips, shoving them into her bag, and I turn around slowly. I see my two cousins come out of employee lounges on either side of the opposite end of the casino. They don’t see me. They can’t. All they see is Cherry.
Her eyes flash to me. It’s time for the men to collect.
No extensions and no excuses.
Her eyes lock with mine as she steps backwards against the roulette table. The wheel above her clicks fast, slowing down with each passing second.
She’s helpless, but she isn’t hopeless.
I cross the room and split the distance between us, and sweep her up into my arms.
She trembles against my body. Her hands fly up to my chest and her fingers sink in. I don’t know if she’s pushing me away or begging me to get closer. My cock stirs in my pants and starts pressing up against her, and I shift away quickly. The wheel above us ticks and slows down and I feel my goon cousins behind us.
“Please,” she says. Her eyes are clear and bright, and in that split-second in time, everything freezes and she doesn’t look scared. She’s pleading with me, but she doesn’t look scared. She doesn’t know what she’s asking for when she says please.
More time? That’s not happening. She can ask sweet and nice but my uncle won’t allow it.
“Cherry.” The word slips out of my mouth and she wraps her arms around my torso, pressing herself to me. I put my hand instinctively on the back of her neck and she closes her eyes, her lips parting gracefully as I put my mouth on her.
She opens up for me as I sweep my tongue against hers. The foreign territory somehow feels familiar. Her breasts press against me and her fingers dig into my back as she pulls me closer to her. The hot air around us feels electric.
There’s nothing I can do but feel her. The world is blotted out for just a moment, and all I can feel is her and the air slipping around us.
My heart brightens, and then sinks as I pull away from her.
“Please,” she whispers, her head resting against my chest.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you, Cherry. Just trust me.”
I take her by the hand and cross the floor of the casino. I take her into the dim steakhouse and past tables of middle-aged couples ordering chocolate lava cakes, back through the kitchen where the clanging of metal rings in my ears. We bust through the door to a hallway in the back where there are rows of lockers for employees to put their regular clothes they change out of. A few women are changing out of their jeans and t-shirts and into their skimpy cocktail waitress costumes.
My feet keep hitting the ground hard, and I don’t let up. Cherry’s right next to me, and she struggles to keep up, but I have her. I look back and see her bright, clear eyes shift up to me. Her brows knit above her eyes and her perfect mouth opens, panting and heart racing. I turn to keep leading her, my hand still at her elbow as we slip past the cocktail waitresses and strippers and putting on their push-up bras and high heels.
We get to the narrow, dark hallway leading outside and I shoulder it open. It deposits us in a dark employee parking lot behind the casino.
She wrestles from my grip and her steps falter. Her eyes grow wide as she takes three wobbly steps backwards until her back hits the wall.
The air is heavy and tense around us. She looks like she’s about to give up as she bends forward and puts her hands on her knees. The outline of her shape tempts me toward her, but I swallow hard and push my feelings down.
“Please,” she says. Her voice is a mere whisper as it uncurls into the night air. Shrieks and hollers of fun and joy come from the strip, and we can hear it and see it from where we’re standing. I walk toward her and put my hands down cautious
ly on her shoulders.
“Cherry, what are you asking for? You keep saying please, but I don’t know what you want.”
A feeling shreds through me as she looks up. It’s strong and it’s a desire, but for what I’m not sure.
I know my cock is getting hard again, but it’s not lust. I know my heart is beating fast, but that’s because I had to drag this poor fucking girl away from my piece of shit cousins.
I’m a piece of shit too, but that’s not what I’m feeling right now. It’s something else. It’s inside my head as the blood whooshes inside my ears.
“What are you going to do to me?” she whimpers, her eyes cast down.
“Nothing. I’m not going to do anything.” He eyes flash up to mine, her eyebrows raised, her lips spread open for me. All for me. I drag my hands down her shoulders to her arms and a wave of goosebumps plumps up under my fingers. My cock becomes full and stiff in response. “Not unless you beg me.”
Cherry
He told me I had more time. He gave me the time. And now he’s taken it away from me.
He’s in control. He possesses everything. I have nothing.
His fingertips on my arms make my blood run warm throughout my body. My face flushes and heats at his touch.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Cherry.” He says my name in a whisper. His voice becomes dark and dim as he growls into my ears.
Hurt. I’m already hurt. I don’t know how he could hurt me anymore than I already am.
“Listen to me,” he says calmly, his fingers wrapping around my arms. My flesh yields under his touch. I can’t move, but I feel free, in a strange way. Frightened, but free. “First of all, you need to know that my name is Sean. Second of all, in about ten seconds, two men are going to come through that door. They’re my cousins, and they trust me. They’re family.”
I swallow dryly and look up at him. He does have a name.
“Right now, I need you to trust me,” he adds.
My breathing hitches and I feel myself trembling in his hands.
“Why should I trust you?” My voice comes out as barely a whisper.
“Because your other option is going to my uncle without the money you owe. So you can make your choice right now, sweetheart. You place your trust in me or you place your trust in blind fate. See what the latter gets you.”
He starts undoing the top few buttons of his shirt and takes off his black, worn leather jacket. I stare at him as he starts to partially undress. I don’t understand.
“Are you going to hurt me?” The words sound like they’re coming from someone else, not from me at all. Sean hooks two fingers into the collar of his jacket and hitches it over his shoulder.
“No, I’m not going to hurt you. But we have to talk about a couple of things.”
He lets his jacket go slack over his shoulder and brings his hands down to his belt buckle, snapping it open and letting his low-slung jeans hanging down on his hips fall a little bit lower. Tension weaves through my stomach and hits me deep between the legs as my mind spins.
He told me to trust him, but I have no reason to trust him. I have no reason not to run the hell away. But he’s right about one thing. I do have a choice. And my best option is to do what he says.
“Okay,” I respond.
He smirks and reaches out for me, taking my face in his hand, slipping his thumb under my chin.
“Good girl,” he says. “Remember to do what I say.”
The darkness in his eyes is enrapturing, and as he takes his hands off of me I feel their absence on my skin. Even though we’re so close to the strip, out here, no one can hear you scream. The noise from inside the casino is not audible, so I know no one would be able to hear me. The voices from the strip are dimmed to a low rumble, so I know no one would hear if something happened to me. Something bad. Something good. Any of it would be blotted out.
The door next to us flies open with a metallic and hard crunch as the hinges move, grinding against the gravel and sand on the grey asphalt ground where we’re standing.
“Fuck, Sean. Didn’t you see us behind you?” one of the men says in a dismissive tone. He takes a step toward me, but Sean puts his body between us. His glances back at me and gives me a certain look with is chin down.
Trust me, his eyes say.
“Yeah, I did see you, Kevin. Heaven fucking forgive me.”
Sean puts his chin down and pulls his cigarette pack out of his back pocket. The outline of the hard cardboard pack remains on his back pocket, faded from years of having packs of cigarettes in his jeans. He lights and as the cigarette hangs from his lip, I hear him re-fasten his belt.
“This is the girl?” The other man puts his hands on his hips and glances around Sean, bending at the waist and flashing a huge grin at me. I feel my knees go weak at his look, and I just want to collapse onto the ground and give in.
“There’s been a huge fucking misunderstanding, men.” Sean pinches his cigarette between his fingers and blows a stream of smoke into the air above him. “I’m going to have to talk to your father about this. He isn’t going to be too fucking happy, but it’s my fault. It’s not the girl’s fault.”
Sean
The desert heat blinds my thinking. It’s nighttime and the sun is long gone, dipped low past the horizon like a mirage I want to chase.
If it was any other girl, I might have let the boss take her and do what he wanted. I can’t help myself this time. I can’t explain it. It’s different.
I don’t know if it’s because I know her father and feel bad for the old man. Maybe it’s because she’s so damn innocent. She’s so unlike me, so unlike this world. She doesn’t belong here.
But I feel her behind me. She belongs there - not hidden, but guarded. Shielded. Protected.
The pair of goons tries to muscle past me, but I hook my cigarette between my lips and put my hands out to stop them, pushing my palms into their chests.
“Don’t touch the girl.” I flick my cigarette into a rare nearby puddle on the steaming asphalt and it extinguishes with a hiss.
I grab her gently by the arm and lead her into the hallway, with my two cousins following closely behind. We duck into a hidden elevator off to the side of the dark hallway and I hit the button for the top floor.
What’s about to happen is inevitable now. I can feel it in my bones.
“Men,” I say, “I want you both to meet Cherry. I’ll explain everything once we’re in your father’s office.”
Kevin scratches his head and cocks his chin up, looking at her with skeptical eyes. Mike laughs and scratches his chin.
“You think her pussy is made of gold and that’s worth her debt? Forty thousand dollar gold-plated pussy?”
My blood rushes up into my ears and I resist turning to him and pummeling him. Kevin smacks his brother on the back as I look at Cherry. Her eyes paint a picture of fear across her face.
“I’m going to let that fucking go, but if you talk like that about my fiancee again I will have no trouble laying you out.”
I look straight ahead as the elevator dings and lands at the top floor. I feel the energy in the tight elevator shift, and it fills with tension between the four of us. One of my hands is curled up into a tight fist and the other slips down and takes hers.
I steady my breathing for the both of us. No one moves. I can feel my cousins looking at me slack-jawed, like the fucking cro-magnons they are.
My cousins. The two pieces of shit that are more like brothers to me than cousins. I remember all the times in school when they tempted me to the dark side. It was all kid shit back then. They hid in the bathroom stalls in the girls’ room in high school and jumped out at the girls. One time they raided the tampon machine and threw the things all over the bathroom, filled the sinks with them. Unwrapped them, too, on top of it. The boss called it an innocent prank and laughed it off. My father found it to be a cruel joke.
They still say nothing as we get off at the floor where my uncle runs his business from. We�
��re in what now is properly considered the hotel. I have a permanent space here, as do my two cousins, as three of his most trusted men.
Trust. I laugh at the word, but I don’t let anyone see. The laugh is on the inside. Outside, I remain like steel.
“Your father is just going to have to understand,” I say as we stride down the hallway.
His office is inside one of the suites. I don’t bother knocking as we make our way to his room - it’s labeled with a gold-plated 1, because my uncle is a prick like that - and Cherry remains silent and hard to corral as we pass through the sleek, modern sitting area with a panoramic view of the strip.
I look down at her, at her pale and luscious face. She doesn’t look frightened anymore. She seems resigned to what’s happening.
But is it resignation? I’ve never been good at reading people. Unlike poker, blackjack doesn’t require you to read people. It’s all up on the surface. It’s a game of calculation and rules. It’s an exercise in logic, and that’s how I like it. I couldn’t have become a fucking expert at poker because that requires a level of interpersonal recognition that I don’t want to touch.
I like the coldness and the distance of blackjack. You set up the rules for yourself at the beginning and you don’t deviate from them if you want to win. Winning means staying on script and not deviating. The house may come out ahead, but I am the house. It’s what I represent.
The house is the family, and I win. I get what I want.
Cherry stumbles slightly as two men, hired muscle who are retired NYPD and came out here to end a fucking miserable life of chipping ice off their minivans, eye her up and down.
“She’s with me, she’s good,” I say as they drag their eyes up and down her, gazing at every inch of her covered, concealed flesh. The tight outfits leaves nothing to the imagination - and even though she’s mine for now, I’m not the only one who can see her. Everyone in the room can see her, from my two cousins to the two men who I know haven’t fucked in a long time and pay for it when they do.
