Tragic Soul

by Jeanisse, Bella

  The wine had had a chance to work its magic and Veronica felt it was time to address her guests. When she stood she gained their attention immediately. She knew it was the abrupt silence of the piano, but she let herself think she was just that good.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” Veronica began. “I want you to enjoy yourselves tonight. We are here to better the life of someone very special to all of us. I expect you to spare no expense. So with no further interruptions, let the evening begin.”

  Veronica resumed her playful songs as her girls drew the gentlemen to the dance floor.

  The food and drink fueled a fantastic party and before long, the moon was setting. Veronica was doing well at resisting the urge to give her music a burlesque twist. It was a habit that came back to her when she was tired, sort of like a hidden accent. For the moment, only one of Veronica’s girls remained on the dance floor. It was Bella. She wore an auburn gown that flirted with her ruby hair. She danced close to her partner and as the music slowed, she whispered to him. His eager smile led Bella to escort him down the hallway to a bedroom layered in pillows.

  Alone, Veronica allowed her music to take whatever path it desired.

  “Getting a little carried away, V?” Lil said as she came down the hallway. “I’d sing along but I should probably save my voice.”

  “Save it for what?” Veronica asked.

  “I like to hear myself talk. A raspy voice just doesn’t work for me.”

  Lil moved her petite frame with the confidence of a Mack truck and the grace of a cat. She had started the evening with her long black hair draped straight over her shoulders. It was a drastic compliment to her little red dress and her fair skin. Lil plopped herself on a pile of pillows beside Veronica at the piano. Veronica gave her song more of a background volume.

  “God, I’m exhausted,” Lil continued. “I can’t believe we’re getting away with this.”

  “Of course we’re getting away with this. Did you expect anything less?” Veronica said.

  “V, this apartment just came on the market. It’s prime. I didn’t expect less of us; I expected more of everyone else in the city.”

  “When I saw this piano stuck in here alone I knew it needed a party. I couldn’t pass it up. And the thrill of everyone else in the city wanting what we just take makes it even more exciting.”

  “You’ve been playing that thing for five hours straight, V. Take a break.”

  “I’m used to it. Here, count this,” Veronica said as she passed Lil a vase filled with checks. “What is going on with your hair?”

  “It was getting in the way, and it’s hot as hell in here,” Lil said, adding up the checks. “Holy shit, we did it. We have everything we need for Doc to get her treatment.”

  “Are you kidding me? From four men?”

  “Four very satisfied men. Holy crap, mother of god, this is amazing, I can’t wait to tell her.”

  Lil fell into the pillows and Veronica began to play a lullaby.

  “No, don’t put me to sleep; I still have work to do.”

  “No, you don’t, Lil,” came a voice from down the hall.

  It was Julia, her silhouette greatly resembled Lil. But as she came into the light of the living room her darker skin and brown eyes gave her face a kindness that didn’t appear on Lil’s. Julia’s curly black hair danced with her bubbly movement as she buttoned up her tight dress and fell onto the pillows placing her head on Lil’s lap.

  Julia continued, “Mr. Franklin is sound asleep, Lil. I think your job is done.”

  “Oh good, then I’m sleeping. Continue with the music, V.” Lil said. “We did it, Julia. Doc has everything she needs.”

  “Thank god.”

  “I know.” Lil said stroking Julia’s hair.

  “Before you go to sleep, remember you are showing this apartment at eight this morning,” Veronica said.

  “Are you kidding me?” Lil said.

  “You set it up. You said that with your little red dress it was a sure sale.”

  “Oh yeah. Wait, where’s my dress?”

  Julia couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Screw it, I’m calling in sick,” Lil said, falling back.

  “You’re going to call me and tell me that you’re sick?” Veronica asked.

  “Yes, I am. Has anyone seen my phone?”

  Julia was drunk with giggles.

  “If you call in sick, who will show this apartment in a few hours?” Veronica questioned.

  “A few hours? Are you serious? What time is it? I don’t care, I’m sick. Julia will show it for me.”

  “No, I won’t,” Julia said, laughing.

  “Whatever,” Lil replied, pushing Julia off her lap. “I would show it for you.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Julia said, reclaiming her spot on Lil’s lap.

  “She’s right. I wouldn’t. I definitely wouldn’t.”

  “VERONICA!” A scream came from down the hall.

  It was Bella. Her fiery red hair trailed behind her as she ran.

  “What’s wrong?” Veronica asked, running to her.

  Bella’s milky skin was cold and wet to the touch. Her slim body was hunched over trying to catch her breath.

  “An,” Bella said, “It’s An.”

  That was all she needed to say to send Veronica on a hunt throughout the bedrooms of the vacant apartment. Bella couldn’t find her words but was able to point to a door. Veronica slammed herself into it.

  “It’s locked.” Veronica screamed. “Move it.”

  She stood in front of the door and slammed her bare foot into it, forcing it to swing open. But inside the room there was no An, only Mr. Fleming, who was lying naked and unconscious atop a pile of pillows.

  “No-no-no,” Veronica whispered. “NO!” she screamed, she ran to the window that was opened to a wall of scaffolding.

  Looking eight stories down to the street she saw them.

  “AN! NO, you bastards! An! I’m coming!”

  Veronica’s plan was to hurl herself through the scaffolding to the ground, stopping the two men that had An by crashing her body into them. But Lil and Julia had grabbed her feet, knowing all too well where her passion could take her.

  Veronica allowed them to help her back into the room and then swiftly pushed them away. She ran to the door and flew down the stairs. Bursting out of the front door of the building to the street, she saw she wasn’t too late. The car they were pushing An towards was right there, pulling away.

  The driver’s window was open. She could get to him. She rounded around to the driver’s window and went to lunge at him.

  “Hey lady, what’s the matter with you?” the driver yelled.

  “You’re not him,” Veronica said.

  “Not who, lady? You on something?”

  Veronica could see into the back of the car. She saw two concerned children and in the passenger’s seat sat their mother.

  “You’re not him,” she said again.

  The light turned green and the car sped off.

  “Veronica,” Julia yelled. “Veronica, wait!” She caught up to her and wrapped her arms around her. “Veronica, please! We need to get out of the street.”

  Julia’s touch brought Veronica back.

  “No,” Veronica said, throwing Julia’s arms off her. “I have to find her. AN! I have to! AN!”

  Veronica ran to the corner.

  “Veronica!” Lil said, arriving with Bella.

  “NO!” Veronica said, turning to stop them. “They have to still be here. They couldn’t have moved her that quickly! They have to be close. AN! Damn it! He doesn’t get to have her. You cannot have her back.”

  Veronica couldn’t control the tears. They were coming so fast she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see.

  “Maybe they went into the park.” Bella suggested.

  Veronica stood slowly. She tried to steady her breath.

  “No,” she said. “No, they didn’t go into the park. I have to go—”

  Ver
onica turned to run.

  “Wait, we should go back upstairs, Veronica. You need to calm down.” Julia said. “We could—”

  “No. I need to go get her now.”

  “We’ll go with you then.”

  “Listen to me, all of you, I need to go get An from those men. And I need you not to follow me. Do you understand?”

  “Veronica, why can’t we go?” Lil asked.

  “Because,” Veronica said, looking into her eyes. “Lil, I can’t let you get hurt as well.”

  “’As well?’ What do you mean, ‘as well’?”

  “I have to go.”

  “Veronica, where are you going? What do you mean about getting hurt?”

  “Enough! I need to go and you need to stay here. Doc needs this money immediately and she needs you. You know how important this is.

  “I will take care of An. I need you guys to finish this party and show the apartment in a few hours. Don’t bother getting the door fixed, just show up and look as surprised as every other agent there, okay? You need to go along with everything as we planned. I’m just going to go get An and I’ll be right back. Doc needs you right now. Please, Lil.”

  “Can we at least know where you’re going?”

  “I’ll have my phone.”

  Veronica turned and ran as fast as she could. At the corner she looked back to make sure they hadn’t followed her. They had done as she asked.

  “I can do this,” Veronica said to herself.

  She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she knew she had very little time.

  Chapter Two

  On Sunday afternoon, a broken-down car parked in front of an aged house. Layers of dirt and oil caked the car, and its pocked bumper would warn other drivers to stay clear.

  The man sitting inside was rather slim. His face was hiding behind a mustache that matched his blond pageboy haircut. As he stepped out of the car, he fumbled with his keys and somehow shut his jacket in the car door. When he closed the door properly, he gazed at his reflection in the window. Straightening his hair down around his delicate features, he exposed his tiny hands.

  “What is she going to think of me?” he whispered to himself. “You’re here, she’s here. That’s all that matters. You finally get to have her. Go take her.”

  Wrapping his jacket around himself, he threw his small hands into his pockets and, as if placing his tail between his legs, he made for the door. When he approached it, he couldn’t help but noticed it was cracked open. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he kept walking and before he knew it he was inside.

  “Hel—” He cleared his throat. “Hello?”

  The dark room was blinding and before he could focus, a large man held his hand out without a word. Remembering his instructions, the blonde man took a card from his pocket. He focused his eyes enough to place the card into the hand before him, which then quickly disappeared.

  “Um, excuse me, should I come with you?” the man asked after the hand.

  No answer.

  “Okay then, um, I’ll just stay here.”

  He looked around. His eyes followed a cockroach up the stairs, and in the silence he heard the stairs creak. As he hoped he wouldn’t have to go up those stairs, a loud voice startled him.

  “Room four, up the stairs,” the voice said.

  Some kind of electronic device altered the voice, but the New Jersey accent was still thick, reminding the man just how far he had come to be in this house, and to have her. So he made himself follow the roach up the stairs, hoping they weren’t both going to room four.

  At the top of the stairs was a long and dark hallway with four doors. Each door had a number painted upon it. The blonde man let himself into the one marked four, and in awe of what he saw with in it, he didn’t notice the giant man was closing the door behind him.

  Room four was steaming hot and the deep red walls gave the room a hellish aspect. The paint job had been hurriedly done; the ceiling and carpet seemed to have gotten in the way. The only furniture in the room was a bed. Four black pillars that were too fancy for the surroundings held it up.

  With a closer look, the blonde man noticed the pillars were only painted two by fours nailed to the wood box the mattress had been tossed upon. An Asian print spread, red with black characters written on it, covered the bed. The pillows were gold, and looked like they used to have some kind of bead work on them. Pink sheets peeked out from below the Asian bedspread. He imagined they used to be red, and was thankful they had been washed so much they had faded. Out of habit, he tested the mattress. His hand sunk into it like it was mud.

  “Lovely,” he murmured.

  There was one window in the room; he went to it for a bit of fresh air. Plywood covered the window, but there was a slight breeze coming in through the cracks. Taking a deep breath, he realized he had managed to get into the house. He had done it. He was here and he was ready for her.

  Including the one he had come in through, room four had two doors. As he heard the noise of footsteps, he saw the second one open. Someone threw in what appeared to be a bundle of sheets. As they landed with a thud, the altered voice told him, “One hour.”

  The man slowly approached the heap of sheets and began to sift through them.

  “Holy shit! You’re not… Wow!” he said.

  The life under the curtain collected enough energy to sit up.

  “Wow, this is way more than I expected,” he continued. “Excuse me, please.”

  He locked both of the doors and rushed back to her. She flinched and he smiled. She was a Chinese woman with no light left in her eyes. As she stood, she let the drapes around her fall. Her body was marked and the way she moved showed the injuries went deep. She moved to the bed and seductively propped herself on the pillows.

  “For one hour, sir, I am yours,” she said. Her Chinese accent was thick.

  He went to her.

  “Shit, I mean—I’m sorry, just rest or something, okay? Goddamn it, what is wrong with me?” He returned to the window. “I can do this. This is what I want. This is what I came here for. I’m doing this. Damn it, I can do this!”

  The woman remained ready for him on the bed. He looked at her from across the room.

  “You can do this,” he said to himself, backing up a step from the window.

  “AAHH!” he suddenly screamed as he started attacking the plywood boarding up the window.

  “I can do this! I have to! What is wrong with me?”

  He punched it with everything he had. He threw his body against it.

  “No mister, stop!” the woman screamed.

  The man turned to the bed to quiet her, but stopped himself from moving to her. She guided his gaze to the door.

  A large shadow showed in the light coming in beneath it. They sat silent and the shadow walked away. She looked towards the man.

  “I’m scaring you, aren’t I?” he asked her quietly.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Goddamn it!” he yelled.

  With bloody knuckles and splintered fingers, the man punched the plywood once more and sent it crashing down onto the trash cans in the side yard. The noise echoed back up through the window, and he knew it must have ventured down into the house. The shadow immediately returned, but this time it wanted in. Led by panic, the man grabbed the weak woman and brought her to the window.

  “You have to jump!” He saw her fear. “Come on, broken legs are better than this place! You can stay with me. Here are my keys! My car is in the front of the house! GO! I’ll try to be right behind you.”

  Confused, she didn’t jump. The door started to rattle.

  “Jump!” he ordered. “I’ll catch up with you.” The bottom half of the door broke apart. “JUMP, damn it! GO!”

  He made to toss her out the window, but the giant man broke through the door and wrapped his large hands around them both. He threw them back into the room. The woman crumbled beside the bed. But in the middle of the room the man stood up to the giant with every bit of figh
t left in him. He punched and kicked relentlessly.

  “You can’t kill me!” he screamed. “They know I’m here! They’ll all come after you!”

  With appendages flailing, he kept fighting.

  “Just give her to me, goddamn it! Just let me have her please, she’s all I want. You know that’s why I’m here.”

  The giant man was becoming irritated. He began to fight back. With every punch the giant landed on him, the small man staggered. The giant tore at his clothes, his face, and his hair. Ultimately, beneath it all, stood Veronica.

  “Please give her back to me. Please…”

  Continued in:

  Ladies of Market Street

  Sneak Peek: And Then Her Mouth

  by Portia Klee Jordan

  Chapter One: Mathilde

  They picked her up in a bar.

  It held with long tradition in Eurotrash swing. It was the etiquette of their set.

  “Mathilde, or something, I swear to sweet Jesus,” Lise breathed out at him, her hair like black night in a Veronica Lake sheet over half her fading face. He remembered the first time he noticed that expression, over a big bowl liquor glass filled with amber fluid, when she was young. When they were both younger. How the force of desire punched him back from the table like a fist. It knocked the wind out of him. They had been together for a little while; some nights, maybe a week in the islands, dewy with damp funk, fucking in that fervid, hazy scape, covering everything—the bed, their bodies, the air around them—with a fine sheen of cum and sweat. He had come to think of it as the manifestation, the light purple coat of love. He matched her and it was good; he was not going to let her go. And this costs.

  She had been holding the glass up to her lips, like she did this night, and she stood by him in a little corner of the tiki-hut tourist trap bar they had taken up at, transfixed. Fogging her glass with her moist breathing, in and out, a little cloud of steam and passion forming and dissipating as she stared at something across the black-lacquered disco floor, over the Continental lounge lizard heads. He remembered with a slight, warm smile that it had been like a shock, it had hit him like a shock, when he realized she was gaze-locked with a rather ordinary looking American. A woman. That was the price. That was the first time.