by Nikki Chase
So, I’ve been thinking. Maybe it takes more to really make a clean break with Fred. In the past, whenever I didn't want to talk to him, he’d come to my apartment building and wait for me downstairs. Moving here would solve my problem of having to avoid Fred, removing the temptation altogether.
I don't want to see him when I feel lonely. I’m afraid I’d impulsively decide to get back with him, just so I could cling to something familiar.
I can’t take that risk; I’ve done that way too many times before. Now, while I’m thinking clearly, it’s time to make sure that won't happen.
The best way to do that is to move the hell away from the city, go somewhere he won't find me. Like here, in a small town I’ve never heard of.
I walk up the front steps of the mansion, stop at the door, and press the bell button. A woman opens the door. Her skin is tanned brown, and her hair is dark as night. She gives me a smile, showing off her white teeth.
“Hi, I’m Alice Webb. I’m here to see Seth Wayne.”
“Come in, Alice. Seth has been waiting for you.” The woman speaks perfectly fluent English with a thick Spanish accent.
She gestures for me to follow her with her hand, drawing my attention to her long, pretty red nails. Working in the kitchen as I do, keeping my nails long or painted is not an option. She wears a red wrap dress that skims her figure beautifully, showing off her petite, curvaceous body.
Who is she? A sister, a girlfriend, a wife?
I look around me. High ceilings, marble floors, classy interiors—this is the residence of a rich man. To be honest, I had my doubts that Seth could double my salary at The Local. He didn't even know what they were paying me. But now I see he has the money to back up his offer.
It's hard to say no to that kind of money. If I keep getting work at good restaurants and I make a name for myself, maybe I’ll eventually reach that kind of income level, but it’ll take years of hard work and a lot of luck.
I have that luck right now, so why shouldn’t I take this opportunity?
Sure, it's nice to offer my cooking to a large audience, but it's tiring to work in the pressure cooker that is the kitchen at The Local night after night. Working for Seth would allow me to live life at a slower pace and let my creativity run wild.
With the money I’ll save from my higher salary and non-existent living cost, maybe I’ll even be able to make my life-long dream come true.
Now, don't laugh at me, but I’ve always wanted to open my own restaurant. I know there will be a lot of business stuff to deal with, but that sounds like an exciting challenge to take on.
My mind goes into overdrive when I think about my own little restaurant, with a menu that changes every day based on the availability of local ingredients and what I feel like cooking. Ideas start pouring in, and soon I’m restless because I just want to go out and do it.
In the past, I was never in a financial position to consider it a real possibility. With this job, though, I could actually see myself getting there in a few years.
The woman looks over her shoulder to check that I’m still following her. She smiles at me, the click-clack of her high heels on the marble echoing in the big, minimally decorated space.
The hem of her A-line dress swishes around as she walks, making me feel underdressed in my button-down shirt, dress pants, and ballet flats. Working in the kitchen, comfort and practicality are of the utmost importance.
“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Alejandra,” she says. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Um, likewise.” I wonder what she means by that. “So, what exactly have you heard about me?”
“Oh, not much. Seth doesn't talk much about matters of the heart. We mostly talk about the running of the house.”
Huh? The heart? What is she talking about?
I wonder if it's just a language thing, if maybe she's trying to convey something that doesn't quite translate into English.
Before I can ask, she stops in front of a door. She knocks and smiles at me while she waits.
“Come in,” says a voice from behind the door. The low, authoritative voice sends tingles down my spine.
Seth.
Somehow, the idea of seeing him here, in his home, in his own domain, thrills me.
For months, I’ve been curious about this man. Yet, with every answer I get, more questions arise. Now, I get an opportunity to learn more about him, the mysterious man who came out of nowhere and is suddenly the key to my life-long dream.
Alejandra turns the knob, pushes the door, and holds it open for me. As soon as I enter, Seth’s eyes are fixated on me. Something darkens his gaze, but he quickly hides it.
“Hi, Seth,” I say. The door closes behind me, making me jump.
“Come in. Take a seat.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he gestures at the chair across the desk from him.
My cheeks grow warm with embarrassment when I realize I’ve been standing still like a statue, distracted by his piercing gaze and intimidating presence.
There’s something pulling us closer together, like some kind of an invisible stretchy string that's been drawn so tight it's about to snap.
I felt it even in the busy restaurant, all the way from the kitchen when I was supposed to be working. Now, with just the two of us in a private space, that unseen force hits me in the face, overwhelming me so much my brain stops working for a while.
I check out the room as I walk across the floor toward his desk. One of the walls is lined with tall bookshelves that almost reach the ceiling. The books look thick and serious—textbooks, perhaps. This is probably a home office.
“Anthony told me you already have an overnight bag with you,” he says.
“Yes. I’m sorry if that seems presumptuous.” I take my seat.
“Not at all. Brought it because you’ll definitely take the job?” Seth raises one questioning eyebrow.
“Well, that's one possibility. It's also a long drive back to the city and I thought I should be prepared for this interview to end late.” I recall the advice I read on the Internet about how I should avoid appearing too eager to take a job because that would mean giving up my leverage in the negotiations.
“Interesting answer. What do you think we’ll do, that you’ll have to stay until late?” He smirks.
The way he asks the question make my heart skip a beat. I feel like I’m an awkward schoolgirl who has just received an invitation from the baddest boy in school; he wants me to skip classes so we can do something naughty together.
I pretend I don’t understand what he’s alluding to. “We’ll set each other’s expectations about me potentially working here?”
“There's no need to negotiate here. You’ve already won. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”
“Really? Aren't you going to ask me how much The Local is paying me?”
“No. I want you here. What would it take to get you to take this job? Name your price.”
Holy hell, is he really saying he’ll pay me whatever I want?
There's only one way to find out.
“Two-hundred thousand dollars a year,” I say, spouting the most outrageous amount I can think of.
That's quite a lot more than twice my pay at The Local. I expect him to balk at the number. Maybe he’ll want to lower it, which is fine by me. I just want to see how much I can get, go as high as he’s willing to go.
“Okay,” he says without hesitation, holding his hand out over the big desk. “Deal.”
My jaw slackens, almost dropping. I stop myself from showing just how surprised I am.
“Deal,” I say, gripping his hand before he has a chance to change his mind.
When we touch, my skin buzzes from the contact. It's the strangest thing; I've never experienced something like this before. I pull my hand away, surprised by whatever transpired between us during the handshake.
“Alejandra will prepare the paperwork,” he says as he leans back in his chair
and steeples his hands in front of him. “Sign it tonight, and you can start working tomorrow. I’ll send Anthony to collect your stuff. I can arrange for a whole moving crew to take care of that if you want.”
“Oh, that would be really nice.” I’m getting an awesome new job away from the city and I don’t even have to pack my stuff? Things are going even better than I expected.
“Just another perk of the job,” Seth says.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Alejandra will show you to your room.” Seth presses a button on one of the gizmos on his big glass desk. “Alejandra, my office, now.”
Seth gives me a smile, but it seems a little forced—his mouth curls up, but his eyes remain sober.
Is he already regretting my outrageous pay? That seems unlikely, considering how eager he was to seal the deal.
Is there some other, more sinister reason for him to be lying to me?
Maybe my mind is just playing tricks on me. I’m sure there’s no reason to worry. He’s just an eccentric rich man, who has more money than he knows what to do with.
I hear the door open behind me. That’s quick.
“Alejandra, show Alice to her room, and tell Anthony to come see me. Thank you.”
I twist in my seat to see Alejandra at the door. I get up and thank Seth before I leave the office. He simply nods.
He seems like a cool boss. I just need to keep things between us professional, and I’ll be fine.
6
Seth
“You sure you don't need any help?” Raphael squints his eyes at me. He sounds concerned, which is touching, really. This is not his problem, after all.
In my world, people don’t give a fuck about anyone other than themselves, or their own families. For people like Raphael and me—who don’t have any family—that means we’re pretty much screwed, unless we form our own alliances.
“Yeah. I won't say I’ve got things one-hundred percent under control, but it's safe enough for the time being,” I say.
“How did you do it?”
“Offered her money,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Of course.”
“She came here on her own, which means she quit her job herself, and she broke her lease herself. Her boss and landlord won't be wondering where she's gone and coming here to sniff around.”
“Good job. I honestly thought this was going to end up with her lying dead in a ditch somewhere.” Raphael shakes his head. “Fuck, man. I told you your weird obsession with this chick was going to be trouble. I’ve been telling you this since we were still in prison.”
As my oldest and best ally, Raphael is the only one who knows and understands my plight. I have to agree with him: I’ve been stupid and careless.
“Hey, a man needs his hobbies.” I shrug and take a sip from my crystal glass of whiskey. There’s no use bemoaning what has already happened.
“Sure,” he says from across my desk.
Alice was sitting in the exact same spot only hours ago, but this whole room felt so different then, when she was here.
She has this alluring presence. When she’s around, it’s like everything else fades away and my brain takes on this laser focus so intense that I have tunnel vision. I see every little sway of her hips and every little flick of her dainty fingers.
The problem with that is, I become oblivious to everything else. That’s how I ended up in trouble in the first place.
If I had paid more attention to my surroundings, I would’ve realized I was being followed sooner. Instead, I had Alice on my mind every time I was driving into the city, which created all kinds of dangerous blind spots.
“I do feel bad about dragging her into this, but at least I found out before they ever got to her, you know? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that had happened. I handled it completely wrong,” I say.
“Your problem is not how you handled things,” Raphael says. “Your problem is caring at all. You know we’d only bring trouble to the people we’re close with. That’s why you’re the only motherfucker I talk to these days. I don’t mean, like, meetings and networking and that kind of shit. I mean talking like right now, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah.”
“This is not ideal, but at least she’ll be alive here. And relatively free,” Raphael says, snorting at his own words. “Free. That’s ironic, considering she won’t be getting out of this place for a long, long time.”
“Yeah. I’m hoping it’ll take some time for her to realize that she’s basically trapped here, like some kind of prisoner.”
“Better than being a slave.”
“True,” I agree.
“I’m glad your idea of hiring her worked out. I thought she wouldn’t agree, for sure, and then we’d have to kidnap her.”
“What can I say? I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.” I laugh wryly at my own bad joke.
It’s too close to the truth. There was no way for her to refuse my offer—not if she wanted to live. She just doesn’t know it yet, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible. Ignorance is bliss, after all.
“How long do you think it’ll be until she finds out?”
“I don’t know, but I hope it’s a long time,” I say.
I want to have some semblance of normalcy between us. I want us to be able to talk like we were normal people under normal circumstances.
I’ve always wanted to spend more time with her as someone who’s more than just her customer. In a way, an employer is more than a customer, I guess. But what I really want is for her to see me as a man, for us to interact like a man and a woman.
“I’d bet five-thousand dollars that she’s going to figure it out within a week. She looks like a smart one,” Raphael says with a wide grin on his face.
“Fuck you.” I scowl. “That’s sick, man. I’m not going to bet on her misery.”
“You’re being too dramatic. Misery is better than death, or whatever sick thing they do to the women they catch. You’re giving her the only option that’s available, the only way for her to stay alive.”
“Yeah, well, I was also the one who put her in danger, so it doesn’t really count, does it?”
“Fuck if I know.” Raphael shrugs. “I’m hardly the person you go to for moral advice. You should know that better than anyone else.”
“Yeah,” I admit.
Like upstanding citizens often do, Raphael and I met in prison. We had to stick together. Otherwise, we wouldn't have survived it.
Out here, we're big, intimidating men. But in there, we were locked up with men who were far meaner and more violent than us. Together, Raphael and I learned to be mean and violent, too.
By the time we got out, we were fully entrenched in the criminal world.
Being ex-cons ruled out most legit jobs. The only way for us to earn any money, right after getting out of prison, was to use the connections we’d forged inside.
That’s why I laugh in the faces of people who tell me incarceration is for rehabilitation. What rehabilitation? We came out as bigger, meaner, better-connected criminals.
“You know what? I haven’t seen this girl in a long time. I should go and say hi,” Raphael says.
I give him a look. He has a reputation. I’d tear him apart with my bare hands if he dared to put a finger on my angel.
“I’m only going to say hi. Jesus. I slept with one girl on your staff and now I’m always a suspect. It’s not like I’m going to rape her or anything. I’ll only do it if she wants me.”
“That's not funny.”
Raphael grins at my reaction. “Nah, I won’t do that to you. See you around, man.” He gets up and walks out of the office, not saying another word, closing the door softly behind him.
I tilt my glass of whiskey and take a sip, making the ice cubes clink. The flame crackles in the fireplace. It’s quiet tonight.
The calm before the storm.
I open the locked drawer and pick up my handgun, the black metal dull and
heavy. The heft gives it a certain substance, a certain gravity.
I take a deep breath. If and when things go south, this thing will come in handy. I’m not looking forward to it, though, especially now with Alice in the house.
7
Alice
“Hello there.” The voice sounds friendly, playful. There’s a casual sensual undertone to the greeting, the kind that comes out without the person even trying.
I stop rummaging through my overnight bag and twist to see a man standing in the open doorway of my new bedroom. A strange man I’ve never seen before.
I feel a twinge of disappointment when I see that it’s not Seth at the door, although I already knew that from the voice. I haven't seen Seth since the interview earlier this evening.
“Hi,” I say, returning the man’s smile.
“Seth told me he just hired someone new, and I thought I’d come to say hello. I didn't expect a beautiful girl like you.” He steps inside and holds out a hand. “I’m Raphael.”
Raphael exudes self-confidence. He’s about the same height and build as Seth, which is to say he’s a big man. He seems friendly, unlike Seth. But there’s the same danger lurking in his green eyes.
“I’m Alice.” I get up from where I was kneeling on the floor by the bag and shake his hand.
“So, you’re the new chef, huh?” Raphael folds his hands across his chest and leans against the door frame.
He’s wearing a nice suit, although his shirt has been unbuttoned and his tie has been loosened. It's late in the evening, and he probably hasn’t changed since getting off work.
“That’s me,” I say. “Do you live here, too?”
“Oh, no. I just visit, like, all the time.” He grins, flashing me rows of pearly white teeth.
“You’re a friend of Seth’s? Or family?”
“You can say that,” Raphael says.
That doesn’t really answer my question. I get it, though, I suppose. A friend so close he’s like family. I wish I had that in my life. All I have is Emily, and she’s hundreds of miles away from me right now.
