by Love, Amy
“I’m so sorry,” Chelsea said. “Parents aren’t supposed to profit from their children.”
“But I know what it’s like to have someone live off you. I would never do that to you, Chelsea. I’m not looking for a hand out; I can take care of myself.” He glanced up at her as he said this and Chelsea had to fight to hold back tears.
“I know, Blue. And you need to know that when it comes to your dad I don’t ever believe a word that comes out of his mouth. Always and forever I’m on your side. His words don’t mean anything to me and they never will. It’s just these complications with my record contract and I can work through those. You just need to give me some time.”
Chelsea hadn’t been thinking about her record contract at all in the last few days. Her sister was missing and that was all she could think about. But, at the same time, Snowbird was so different from LA that it hadn’t been hard to forget about the life she had over there. But she knew her manager wasn’t going to go away and the longer Chelsea spent away, the worse it would get. She just needed to get Jamie and then get the hell out.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door and she couldn’t help but jump. Her house didn’t feel safe anymore. Shadows loomed in the corners and the furnace in the basement rumbled and cracked and each noise sounded like the footfalls from an intruder.
“It’s just Paul,” Blue said standing up and walking over to the door. He checked the peephole, but still Chelsea could feel as fear pumped adrenaline through her veins.
Her heart was pounding and she was ready to jump out of her seat in a second if she needed to. Blue opened the door and, true to his word, it was just Paul who walked quickly into the house. He didn’t look like the Paul from high school anymore, though. He was wearing a well-made suit that fit easily over his large frame with a bright blue tie and a briefcase in one hand.
“Hey Chelsea, how you doing? I heard about last night,” Paul said as he sat down at the table with them.
“I’m all right,” Chelsea said with a nod. But the truth was, she only felt all right because Blue was with her. She didn’t know what she would do if he was suddenly gone.
“So, I went down to the police station and did some digging,” Paul said as he opened up a black file and began laying papers out on the table. “The only thing I had to go on was guys from Detroit and that wasn’t a lot. So I did a search on people who had been arrested in the last few years and had a Detroit address. There were nineteen men. Five of them were arrested for meth possessions, eight for petty theft, three for outstanding child support, and three for inciting violence. I think the last three are our best bets. But, I gotta warn you, these are low level guys. The bosses never get arrested for stuff like this.”
“We’ll take anything,” Chelsea said.
“First guy’s name is Mitch Reiser. He was arrested about two years ago for inciting violence; he did three months and then got out. The second guy was named Matthew Thomas, same charge, but he had a bunch of priors, so he got five years and is still serving them. The third guy was named Billy Rudd; this was his first offense and he just got probation. I think Mitch is our best bet. He’s living in a tenement house on the other side of town. No employment to speak of, but he’s riding around in a pretty decent car, so he’s got money coming in from somewhere.”
“So his bosses came here from Detroit and they brought him along?” Blue asked.
“A muscle to do all the dirty work,” Paul agreed with a nod. He looked between Chelsea and Blue and said, “I don’t feel good about telling you this. I don’t want you guys mixed up in whatever horror show the boys from Detroit have cooked up. If something is up, you need to go to the police. You don’t want to end up down the rabbit hole on this one. These are dangerous people who don’t mind hurting others.”
“Yeah,” Chelsea said. “We know.”
Paul looked between Blue and Chelsea, “You know, I always hoped the two of you would get together. I just never imagined it would be like this.”
“Neither did I,” Chelsea said, “but we’re doing the best we can.” She smiled up at Blue, but she couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of their lives would look like. The foundation of their relationship was the friendship they shared in high school; it had been sweet and innocent, but now it was tainted by something dark. The fighting pits, Jamie’s kidnapping, Chelsea’s own attack, they would forever be linked to this time with Blue. It was the beginning of their real relationship. She should have felt giddy and lightheaded and, most of all, joyously, overwhelmingly happy. But Terrance and his fights had ruined it. He had turned what should’ve been a happy time into something dark and twisted. They had spent the first days of their relationship not wrapped up in each other, but searching for her missing sister and following false leads to dead ends.
Every time Chelsea thought of Terrance her heart pounded and her blood boiled. She hated him. She had never hated anyone as much as she hated him. She wanted to hit him and shake him and ask him how he could so casually do all of these terrible things. If her mother did insist on marrying Terrance than Chelsea was done with her. As long as Colleen was with Terrance, Chelsea didn’t have a mother.
Chapter Twenty Six
Mitch Reiser’s neighborhood was downright depressing. In all the years she spent in Snowbird Chelsea had never actually been to this part of town. The pavement was cracked and broken, the curb lined with litter – potato chip bags, take-out containers, and empty fifths of vodka and whiskey. The houses were large and old, and most of them were empty. Windows were empty or boarded up, some covered in thin, white sheets that flapped in the breeze. The day had started grey and chilly and the skies above threatened rain.
It was deserted and that made Chelsea nervous. She had been in bad neighborhoods before, but never one so desolate and empty. There were no children playing on the sidewalks, no teenagers walking together in large groups and laughing at some inside joke. There was one lone man, hunched low against the wind walking away from them; that was it, on the whole street there was just one man limping away.
Blue was less worried. They arrived at the house and he climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut, the sound echoing up and down the street. Chelsea followed, but she hugged her sweater tightly to herself as she looked around.
“According to Paul this is the place,” Blue said as the stood in front of a large, dilapidated Victorian style house. There was a wraparound porch that must have been lovely once, but today it was covered in trash and spider webs and half the wood was rotting away. The many windows of the house were empty and dark and no sound came from them.
“Maybe he’s not home,” Chelsea ventured.
But Blue just pointed to the parking lot where a black SUV sat. It was the nicest thing on the whole block; there were no dents or scratches on it and it looked like it had just been cleaned. He walked confidently up the stairs and pounded three times on the door. Chelsea waited on the lawn as she looked up and down the empty street. Suddenly there was a flash of movement in the window near the door. One of the curtains had moved, Chelsea had seen it. At that moment she was very aware of the small gun sitting in her purse and she wondered how quickly she could get to it if she needed it.
“Open up, Mitch,” Blue said to the door. “I know you’re home and we’re not cops. We just have a quick question for you.”
The door opened a crack and Chelsea could see a man’s face in the open sliver between the door and the door jam. He was young, but his face had that look of someone who had been rode hard. He was overly tan and the lines and creases under his eyes and around his mouth were deep.
“Who are you?” he demanded through the door.
“I’m Blue DeMarco, Terrance’s son,” Blue answered.
“Terrance sent you?”
“The old man and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms. But I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk to you. How about you let me in?”
“How about you get the hell off my property before I
shoot you and that chick you got with you-” he turned to Chelsea and she watched as the part of the face that she could see went slack. Before they knew it, he had slammed the door closed, but then opened it again a moment later. He craned his neck and look past Blue, “No, it can’t be...” he started. He took off his hat and ran his hands through his thinning hair. “If I didn’t know any better I would swear that’s Chelsea Riley,” he said shyly as he twisted his cap in his hands.
“Yep, that’s me,” Chelsea said as she took a step towards the porch. She walked up the stairs next to Blue and put on her flashiest smile as she held her hand out to the other man, “Nice to meet you,” she said. She kept her smile bright and her eyes wide as she looked at the nervous-looking Mitch.
“I heard you was from Snowbird, but I never expected to actually meet ya or 1othing,” Mitch said. For a guy who worked for mobsters, Mitch was oddly bashful. His eyes would occasionally glance at Chelsea and then his face would turn beet red and once he made eye contact he would quickly look away.
“I came back for a visit. I wanted to spend some time with my family. But...oh Mitch, something awful has happened,” Chelsea’s eyes filled with tears as she reached out and touched Mitch’s arms. “My sister, my only sister, has been kidnapped and I’m so worried about her. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. Meanwhile my manager is losing her mind and she’s threatening to end my career if I don’t return to LA immediately, but how can I abandon my only sister? I heard from a friend that you might know where she is and if she’s okay. If that’s true you would be my hero, Mitch. I would be eternally grateful, so please, could you help me?” She kept her hand on his arm and her eyes locked onto his as she spoke. She could see as his expressions wavered and she wondered if she had said enough.
“Come inside,” Mitch said as he glanced up and down the street and then jerked his head towards the door.
He walked into the house and Blue and then Chelsea followed. The inside of the house wasn’t any better than the outside. Looking around Chelsea realized no one had made any changes to the house in what looked like seventy years. There were oil-filled hurricane lamps in the corners and ratty and broken furniture was scattered over the pockmarked and scratched wooden floors.
“You really Blue DeMarco?” he asked as the stood in the destroyed living room.
“Yeah,” Blue said, crossing his arms.
“I heard you were good,” Mitch said with an appraising nod. “Everyone was very excited to hear you were back in town. There was a lot of interest in seeing you go back in the ring.”
“He’s not going back in the ring,” Chelsea cut it. “That’s barbaric and wrong and you can’t make him do it.” Next to her she could see as Blue tensed and his jaw tightened.
“That so?” Mitch asked.
“I want to get Chelsea’s sister back. Where are they keeping her?”
“I don’t know,” Mitch said shaking his head. “That was a serious job. He brought in some guys he used to work with. That’s way above my pay grade.”
“Please, Mitch,” Chelsea said. “We’ve been searching for days, but we’ve only come up with dead ends. We don’t have anything; can’t you help us at all? Could you tell us about the men who took her, the men from Detroit? We would never tell anyone that you told us anything. I swear it.”
“I want backstage passes to all your concerts for all of time,” Mitch said after a moment’s thought.
“Done!” Chelsea said holding her hand out. Mitch reached out with his and she felt his dry papery skin beneath her own. She would have invited Mitch to live in her future guest house if he had asked. She had gotten off light with just the concert tickets.
“So, these guys have a good business up in Detroit. Drugs, girls, fights, you name it. Whatever you want, for the right price, they can get it for you. And by anything, I mean anything. But they were famous for their fights; they were real nasty, down and dirty affairs, so naturally all the businessmen wanted to come and bet and watch the fights.
The boys from Detroit made good money, they sold tickets and drinks and even took a cut of the bets. They were doing very well for themselves, but you can always do better, you know? So the boys began to organize a different kind of fight, something that would get them in a lot more trouble than just an underground fight club if the five-oh ever stopped by. These fights were for the richest and most depraved men. There was a one million dollar buy-in, but you had to be personally invited by one of the boys to get invited.”
“Whoa,” Chelsea said. “What made those fights so special?”
“They were to the death. One man versus another, no weapons, no gloves, no refs, just a fight to the death and then the boys get rid of the body and everybody goes home getting to feel like they lived for once in their lives. Mind if I smoke?” he asked, taking a shaky hand and pulling out a pack of Camel Lights. Chelsea and Blue shook their heads and he hit a cigarette, blew out a large plume of smoke and continued. “I went once. I did a personal run for one of the boys; he needed blow and his favorite hooker, I got them both and it wasn’t easy – the girl’s other client was very unhappy. But the boss was pleased and he brought me down into his basement to watch,” Mitch said, shaking his head. “It was awful. It was these two men who had nothing against each other trying to kill each other while a room full other men cheered and yelled and bet money. The memory of it makes my skin crawl.”
Chelsea glanced up at Blue and saw he was white as a sheet. He was looking intently at Mitch and every muscle of his body was tense.
Chapter Twenty Seven
“Are you all right?” Chelsea asked Blue.
“I’m fine,” he responded, but he couldn’t look her in the eye.
“Anyway, they had that going on in Detroit, but then Detroit went bust. At first the drop in the economy was good since it provided plenty of poor and desperate men for the fights, plus there were always businessmen in the city for work. These men were from Wall Street and they had come to handle the bankruptcy papers for the failing city. But then all the big businesses were gone and then the city was gone and then they had more fighters than they had people paying to watch.
So one day, this man in a cheap suit with a whole lot of attitude comes walking into a fight with an offer. He used to run some fighting pits out in Idaho, but then he said things fell apart. He wanted to start up again and was looking for some people interested in the game. He said there was some lot men who wanted to bet on fights in Snowbird; they just lacked fighters. He wanted an advance so he could pay for the type of fighter he wanted. The boys from Detroit would just have to supply the capitol and they would split their earnings fifty-fifty. The deal was agreed upon and they set up some fights down here and, boom, before you know it they’re practically printing money. There’s nothing else like it around so fellas come from states away to see them. Hell, some guys even fly in just for the flights. Can you imagine that? Paying for airline tickets to see one fight? But they do it. So now, they’re more the boys from Snowbird instead of Detroit, they’re doing very well here and don’t want to leave.”
“So Terrance has been involved in this since the beginning?” Blue asked.
“He’s the reason we’re here,” Mitch said with nod. “But I don’t know 1othing’ about no kidnapped girl or any fights that are coming up.”
“Does that mean it’s one of the secret ones? Is it a fight to the death?” Chelsea asked.
“Could be, but I don’t know. You should leave, though, can’t have that car sitting outside the house this long. If somebody sees and it gets back to the boss, I’ll be screwed.”
“The boys from Detroit, what are their names?” Chelsea asked and she and Blue were pushed towards the door.
“Isaac and Amos Sonata, but you won’t exactly find them in any telephone book,” Mitch said as he opened the door and stuck his head out to look around. He opened it wide and motioned for Chelsea and Blue to leave. “Now, don’t forget what you promised me. Lifelong backstage passes.
”
“I remember,” Chelsea said as she walked to her car. “Don’t let anything happen to you, now. I want to make sure you get to come to a lot of shows.”
He waved and smiled as they drove away. Blue drove down the streets quickly, leaving that sad and desolate part of town behind them.
They drove down the highway in silence, each one wrapped up in their own thoughts. Chelsea’s phone was on silent and buried deep in her bag and so she missed the warning from her publicist. It took her a moment to recognize what she saw. Lining the street to her house were black vans and men with huge cameras and long, telephoto lenses. The paparazzi had invaded Snowbird.
“Shit,” Chelsea whispered, sinking down into her seat. This was not good; she looked terrible, wearing an old pair of jeans two sizes two big, a ratty t-shirt, and no make-up. Plus, there was Blue. Either they were going to think he was her boyfriend or her stepbrother, or both.
