Beware the Snake

by Samantha Cade

  There’s a knock on my door. I yell, “Come in.” Steve, my boss, walks into my office. I give him a cheery smile, hoping to get rid of him as soon as possible.

  “Good morning, Jess,” Steve says, sitting down across from me. His blond beard and mustache is neatly trimmed. I can smell his cologne from here, but it’s not offensive, so it must be very expensive. “Did you have a good weekend?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I say noncommittally. Steve should know by now that that’s all he’s going to get from me. I have no interest in personal relationships with co-workers, or idle chit-chat.

  “Great,” Steve says, then folds his hands, getting to business. “I want you to know, that you’re doing great work here. You’ve proven yourself an indispensable member of the ShopSuite family.”

  He pauses, waiting for me to gush over his compliment. I just wish he’d get to the point.

  “That said, I’ve received some complaints from the employees under you. Not complaints, exactly, just-“

  “What did they say?”

  Steve clears his throat. “The main theme is that you come across as a bit intimidating.”

  I narrow my eyes. “I’m their boss. Not their mother.”

  Steve blinks rapidly. He’s always like this around me, on edge. Maybe I do come off as a little hard around the edges, but since I’ve gotten sober, my tolerance for bullshit is nonexistent.

  I sigh, softening my facial features. “Who was it that complained?” I ask, adding a feminine lilt to my voice.

  “I shouldn’t disclose that,” Steve says, fiddling with his pants at the knees.

  “I promise, I won’t scare them,” I say with a good hearted laugh. “I want to make it right.” What I mean is, if I have to coddle a few emotionally immature men to get Steve off my back, then so be it.

  Steve looks around reluctantly, but he spills the beans anyway. “Toby Brown.”

  “Toby,” I say, drumming my fingers against the desk. “Okay, thank you.” I look down at some work on my desk, and don’t look up until Steve leaves. He’s eager to get out, so I don’t have to wait long.

  Toby. That weak asshole better not have said anything, to Steve, or anyone. I walk out of my office and peek into Toby’s cubicle.

  “Can I have a minute?” I say, with the kindest smile I can muster.

  Toby is the IT guy, and he looks the part. He’s in his mid-twenties, with black, thick rimmed glasses and messy blond hair. He says something like, “Yes, ma’am” under his breath, then follows me to my office.

  Be nice, I remind myself as I sit at my desk across from him.

  “I understand you’ve had some issue with me,” I say.

  Toby’s shoulders tense. “I don’t know who told you that.”

  “I’m not angry, Toby. I need to hear your feedback, so I can be the most effective leader I can be. Now, what’s the problem?”

  Toby looks down at his lap. “It’s just-when you had me compile all that information.” He glances around the empty office, then lowers his voice. “The credit card numbers. It didn’t feel right. It’s against company policy to have names, numbers, and expiration dates in one place, with no encryption. It makes it too easy for the wrong person to get their hands on it.”

  “So you told me then,” I say. “If you thought it was wrong, why did you still do it?”

  Toby adjusts his glasses, biting his lip. “Truth be told, I felt a little bullied into it.” He tries to hold my gaze, but fails.

  “Have you said anything to Steve, or anyone?”

  “No,” Toby says, defensively. “You told me not to.”

  “Listen, Toby.” I stand up, walk around, and sit on the desk in front of him. “I was hired here to make things more efficient. That policy is outdated, and frankly, I think it assumes the worst about people.”

  “So why keep it from Steve?”

  “Because change happens slowly, and not all at once. I’m developing a new way to store credit card information. No one will see those documents but you and me. Promise.” I clap my hands together. That ought to do it. “So, do you feel better?”

  Toby nods nervously. I can tell he’s lying, but that’s enough for me. He flinches when I lay my hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m glad we could work this out. You can go now,” I say. Toby quickly stands to leave. Before he makes it to the door, I remind him of one little thing. “Since what we did is currently against company policy, I think it’s best we continue to keep this between us, for both of our jobs’ sake.”

  Toby walks out, leaving me alone. In the silence, grief comes out of nowhere, hitting me like a ton of bricks. That’s been my experience for the last couple of years. That wall of sadness can materialize at the most unexpected times, and so suddenly, that I have no other choice but to crash right into it.

  I turn on some music so no one can hear me crying. This shouldn’t be my life. I shouldn’t be threatening people’s jobs. But it’s not my fault that things have come to this. I hate this crawling, hopeless feeling that I can’t shake. I hate missing Jake. I hate comparing my life now, to the life that could have been. I hate that I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t bitter and angry.

  The urge for liquor follows closely after these attacks, and this time is no different. There’s a bar down the block. Just one quick drink to calm my nerves, to center myself. That’s all I need.

  Without thinking, I grab for my purse. At that moment, a text comes through on my phone. It’s Snake. I drop my purse, and sink into my seat to read it.

  Chapter Seven

  Snake

  I walk into the park, scanning the benches for Jess. There she is, right where I told her to be. Her hair is twisted into a neat bun, and she wears a black pantsuit and a collared shirt. Her spine is stick straight, both feet on the ground, as she blinks out into the distance. She looked hot the other night at the fight, but I like her better this way. The blood from my brain rushes down to my other brain. I’d like to take that uptight, professional sexpot and unwind her. I want to see her lose all control, preferably while she’s riding me.

  I pause for minute, getting my head in the game. Now’s not the time to be thinking with my cock. This is business. But, if one thing leads to another, I won’t do anything to stop it.

  Before going over there, I check my reflection in a shop window. I picked out my best suit today, navy blue with thin white pinstripes, and a black tie. Jess and I would look good together.

  When I get closer to the bench, I notice Jess is drinking a coffee from the shop down the street. Before she sees me, I notice she’s holding two coffees. I almost turn around, and forget about the whole thing.

  I approach the bench, and she offers a coffee to me. I don’t even look at her as I sit down.

  “Don’t look at me. Don’t offer me coffee. Jesus, is this your first time?”

  Jess blinks down at the coffee. “First time for what?”

  “You know what.” Dread settles in my stomach. I rake my hands through my hair. “It is, isn’t it?”

  Jess doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. I can smell the affluence on her. She looks like someone who grew up in a fancy, treelined suburb, who got a brand new foreign car when she turned sixteen, and who grew up mostly unaware of the darkness that makes the world go around. She doesn’t know how we do things in the underworld.

  “Pretend like we don’t know each other. Watch the dogs playing, the people walking.” I grab the coffee from her. “Give me that. There, now you look nice and normal with one coffee.”

  Jess’ shoulders stiffen. She looks straight ahead. “You don’t have to be condescending. I’m bringing you a lucrative opportunity, wrapped in a pretty package.”

  I casually look over at her, scanning her clothes for strange bumps that would indicate a wire. I admit, I’m also checking her out. I’d seen a little of her body the other night, felt it too. The fact that those hot curves are hidden under that professional clothing makes me want to undress her r
ight now.

  “You were telling the truth about working at ShopSuite,” I say.

  “Was I?” Jess says, sarcastically.

  “I saw your photo on the website. You were the only one not smiling. Do you ever smile?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see her lips twitch. She quickly takes a sip of coffee. I cross my legs, and extend my arm along the back of the bench, my fingers almost grazing her shoulder.

  “How much are we talking here?” I ask.

  Her icy disposition melts, just a little. “The sky’s the limit. I have access to thirty million credit cards. Card numbers, expiration dates, security codes.”

  I pause, waiting for her continue. She doesn’t.

  “And?”

  Jess bristles. “And what? What else do you need?”

  “You need a plan, sweetheart. You need somewhere to funnel the cash, and somewhere else to clean it. And you have to be smart, careful, make it so no one notices their card being charged.”

  “That’s why I need you, to figure out how all this works.” She turns to me, looking at me straight on. “And don’t call me sweetheart.”

  I take a swig of coffee, and turn to her with a smile. Our cover’s already blown, and there’s not many people here anyway, so I move closer to her.

  “Let me ask you something. Why risk your cushy job? ShopSuite doesn’t treat you right?”

  Jess shrugs. “Long hours, no appreciation. Thirty percent less pay than my peers because of my cunt. Yeah, I’d say they don’t treat me right.”

  I turn my head and laugh. “You don’t have a filter on that mouth, do you?” I lean into her, so close I can smell her shampoo. It’s the same scent from the other night, vanilla and cinnamon, sweet and spicy at the same time. “Okay, I’m interested. Let’s go somewhere else to talk details.” I stand up, typing on my phone. “I just texted you the address. Wait here for ten minutes, then meet me there.”

  *

  Jess

  I map the address Snake gave me in my phone, and walk down the block, following the directions, and grumbling the whole time. Snake thinks he’s slick with his nice suit and well-groomed hair. Sure, with his tall, toned figure, olive skin, and dark eyes, he’s striking, but obviously, he’s let his good looks go to his head. Does he know that he comes off as a cocky asshole? He probably does, and doesn’t care.

  The dot on the map blinks, letting me know I’ve arrived at my destination. I look up at an Italian grocer. Signs in the window advertise freshly sliced meets, house made mozzarella, and world famous lasagna.

  “What the hell?” I mumble in confusion. I’m about to double check the address, when I get a text from Snake.

  Go to the back of the store, to the door on the left. My place is on the top floor.

  I look up, blinking. Snake must see me from his window. A chill goes down my spine, knowing he’s watching me. I follow his directions, and take a flight of stairs up to the top floor. There’s only one door here, so I knock on it. Snake answers with a cocky grin. He leans against the doorframe and sweeps his hand out, inviting me in. He’s taken off his suit jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows. My eyes land on his thick, muscled forearm. On the inside of his elbow, I can see the end of his reptilian namesake tattooed on his arm.

  His apartment is simple, and just as clean and well kept as he is. My eyes go straight to the table next to the kitchen, where a bottle of scotch, a tub of ice, and two glasses are laid out. My throat is suddenly tight with thirst. Snake saunters over there, and starts placing ice cubes in the glasses.

  “I think a toast is in order.” Snake tips the bottle over one of the glasses.

  “None for me,” I say, holding my hand up. “I don’t drink.”

  Snake pauses, then continues filling a glass with scotch. The ice cubes dance beneath the swirling, amber colored liquid. I swallow and look away.

  “How about some sparkling mineral water?” Snake doesn’t wait for me to answer. He goes to the fridge, takes out a translucent green bottle, and opens it with a bottle opener. He fills my glass, and we toast.

  “To our new partnership,” Snake says. “May we make a lot of fucking money together.”

  I sip my drink, and watch him sip his. I can almost taste the alcohol on my lips. Snake places his glass on the table.

  “Let’s get some details out of the way so we can continue our celebration,” Snake says. “I was thinking an eighty-twenty split sounds fair.”

  I take a piece of ice into my mouth and crunch it between my teeth. “Meaning you get eighty percent? That hardly seems fair.”

  “I’ll be dealing with most of the overhead,” Snake says. “I have to kick up funds to my capo and the boss, so it makes sense I have a higher share.”

  I narrow my eyes, thinking. I don’t care about the money. That’s not what this is about for me, but I can’t resist a chance to challenge him.

  “Sixty-forty,” I counter.

  Snake raises an eyebrow, but he’s smiling. “How did I know this wouldn’t be easy? Seventy five-twenty five. Final offer.”

  I pause for a moment, letting him feel like he’s won, just for a moment. “Seventy-thirty. That’s my final offer.”

  Snake studies me, then takes a deep breath in. “Deal,” he says with a smile. I feel of prick of anger up my spine. That’s probably the number he’s had in his head all along. He sticks his hand out towards me. Instinctively, I shake it. His strong, warm fingers enclose around my hand. The annoyance I feel towards him morphs into something else, making my blood pressure rise.

  “Deal,” I say through my teeth.

  Snake looks into my eyes, smiling as he holds onto my hand. He takes another step towards me, closing the distance between us. He tightens his grip, making the veins more prominent in his forearm, and looks down at me under a canopy of dark lashes. I can smell the scotch on his mouth. It draws me towards him.

  “Now that that’s settled,” he says, his voice lower. He takes the glass from me, and sets it on the table next to his. His hand settles on the small of my waist as he steps closer to me. I can feel a hard lump through the delicate fabric of his pants. He leans down and whispers in my ear. “I believe we have other unfinished business.”

  His warm, scotch scented breath on my ear makes me shiver. My blood has turned warm. It rushes through my veins, making my heart pound. I should scream, hit him, something, but it feels good to have his towering, strong figure so close to me. His body heat radiates through his clothes. That, combined with the smell of alcohol, makes my head spin. I close my eyes, and for a moment, allow myself to be swept away with desire. His hand tightens on my waist, and I feel his lips against mine, soft and hot. My nerve endings are extremely sensitive. I feel everything intensely, even a warm draft of air against my skin. Snake cups my face, and pries open my lips with his tongue. I’m about to give into him, when an image of Jake flashes before my eyes. I can’t betray him.

  I back away quickly, knocking into the table in the process. The glasses clatter. The bottle of scotch tips over, but Snake catches it before it hits the floor.

  “I don’t know-“ I stutter, regaining my composure. “I don’t know what you think this is. This is just business.” I point at him with authority. “Respect my boundaries.”

  Snake nods, carefully placing the bottle back on the table. “My apologies,” he says to his feet, not trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

  I clear my throat, and straighten my spine. “So that’s it? We have a deal?”

  Snake gives me a sideways glance, then sits at the table, and drains his scotch. His legs are spread open, and I can see that his excitement from earlier hasn’t fully gone away. I avert my eyes, but in the back of my mind I wonder just how he got his nickname.

  “Unofficially, yeah,” Snake says. “I still have to run it by the capo.”

  “Great. When can we set up a meeting?”

  Snake scoffs, then pours himself some more scotch. “Y
ou want to come? No way.”

  There it is, the asshole that hides beneath nice suits.

  “It’s my deal too.”

  He looks at me, his face dripping with condescension. His tone is cutting. “Listen, sweetheart. You stay in your nice office. I’ll deal with the big bad men.”

  I grit my teeth. I can’t believe I let this prick kiss me, that I almost-

  “I’m not your fucking sweetheart,” I remind him. “And I’m not scared.”

  “No?” Snake stands up suddenly, making me jump. “Do you have any idea of the kind of people you’re getting into bed with?”

  Snake clenches his fist. Muscles ripple beneath his shirt. Even though he’s slightly terrifying, I stand my ground.

  “Do you have any idea about me? Let me educate you. I’m not the type to sit on the sidelines, letting other men handle things. That’s a surefire way to get fucked, in more ways than one.”

  Snake gives me a smarmy smile that I’d like to slap off of his face. “You speak from experience?”

  “I don’t have time for this bullshit,” I say. “Set up the meeting. Text me the details. Bye Snake.”

  I storm out of his apartment and slam the door behind me. I start towards the stairs, but I stumble. My palms are sweaty, and I’m shaking. Did I really just talk that way to a mafioso? That guy has probably killed people. Actually, he’s definitely killed people, since that’s a prerequisite for a being a made man, according to the internet. I wipe my palms on my pants, and grip the railing of the stairs. There’s no turning back now. I better do what I set out to do before I get myself killed.

  Chapter Eight

  Snake

  I didn’t want to come out with Bruno and Salvatore to the bar tonight, but I did, figuring it was the best way to get my mind off Jess. That stuck up bitch thinks she can say no to me? I’ve never had a woman talk to me the way she did. In fact, if she was a man, I’d sic Bruno on her, or knock her out myself.