Beautiful Things Evil People Do

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “That will never happen.”

  “You’re lucky he didn’t press charges,” he says, triggering a thought I hadn’t considered. “Bastard says anything else about Ek, let me know.”

  “I need to go eat dinner.”

  “Alright, man. Be good.”

  “Will do.”

  I click the end button and check Axel’s location. He’s in the same hotel I am, but I don’t trust him. “He wouldn’t go after her,” I mumble, grabbing a slice of pizza. “… Would he?”

  These are not questions I ever expected to need to answer about my brother, but he’s way too much like my dad. Though I hate to say it, Echo’s probably too old for him.

  Axel is my biological family.

  But my blood is somewhere in Texas.

  Echo

  Walking into The Vinery the next morning, I smile at José stacking beer cases before the store opens. “Hey, hot stuff! Long time no see!”

  “I took some time off,” I nervously say. “Is Morgan here?”

  “Yeah,” he replies. “Did you meet someone or something? Cause you’re looking damn fine.”

  I shake my head and passively dismiss the notion, “Nah.”

  I make a hasty exit, not wanting to engage in any small talk that could potentially lead to an onslaught of inconsolable tears.

  “Well, there she is!” Morgan booms with a broad smile. “How are you?”

  “I am okay.”

  “A man broke your heart,” she immediately assesses, stepping from behind the counter. I spot the prominent protrusion in her lower belly.

  “You’re pregnant!”

  “I am!” she squeals, hugging me. “I’m about four months along with Ravi’s baby. We’re getting married at Christmas.”

  “I’m so happy for you!” I mean every word, seeing Morgan so content gives me hope that love can happen for me too.

  She moves to a display and plops down in the ornate metal chair. “Tell me all about him.”

  I shrug and smirk. “There’s nothing to say.”

  “Don’t make me bribe you with an iced caramel coffee!”

  An hour later, I grin and wait for a response after telling her the whole story. Her smile twists on her face as she nods. “Tell me one thing, do you love the darker sides of him?”

  “Like the fact he’s been in jail?”

  “Or, he likes to take the lead,” she whispers before eyeing her watch. “Because it matters. I’ll be honest with you, I conceived this baby during a scene with Ravi.” I bite my lip as she brings clarity to everything. “This may not just be a nighttime thing with him. He may be blunting the edge because he’s afraid of losing you. You need to decide if you want that much power over your life during the daytime too.”

  “… You think he’s hiding?”

  “I feel as though he is feeding you incremental doses so to not overwhelm and lose you. Ignore the age difference because I don’t think it matters. Far more important is the maturity and experience difference. The fifteen years are irrelevant as a number, but very relevant in real time. Fifteen years is cradle to almost an adult, that’s a huge span of time and existence.”

  Leaning back in my chair, I ask, “Is he worth it?”

  “Only you can answer that.” Her eyes light up. “But if everything you’ve said is true, then I think he is probably worth risking more of your heart than you have. You either trust him or you don’t. There is no gray area, Echo. But don’t dick him around.” She grins and taps the table twice. “I have to open the shop in ten minutes. I know you’re turning in your resignation.”

  “… How do you know?”

  “Because you look like you’re in love,” she says as I follow her to the counter. “And he doesn’t live in San Francisco.”

  “It’s a big assumption that I can get him back.”

  “Only if you don’t try.”

  I nod and hug her. “Thank you, Morgan. For everything.”

  “It’s always a pleasure having you around. If things don’t work out and you need a job,” she informs, holding her belly. “Let me know. I’ll need a manager soon.”

  Jynx

  In the private gym at the Dower headquarters, I push my limits, sweating all over the weight bench.

  “I will never understand women,” Wang says, holding his phone, as I groan through another set of reps. “One minute, they dote on you; the next, all men are jerks.”

  “I take it Carly isn’t handling the split well,” I mumble, sitting up and grabbing the towel.

  “Fuck no!” He follows me over to the leg press. Wang does not ever work out unless it involves the motion of eating or fucking. That’s it. I strongly believe if he could have a bitch feed and ride him, he would have the perfect woman. And sometimes, he even whines when I decide we need to take the staircase after his favorite lunch. “Last Monday this bitch told me she wanted to marry me. Today, she posted on her feed that she’s going gay.”

  I pause long enough to laugh and lose count in the process. “Did she say it that way?”

  “Yep,” he replies, showing me the post on social media. I shake my head. “She’s so messed up.”

  “Be glad you didn’t hitch her to the altar,” I repeat his words with a wink. “For the record, people do not go one way or another. It is not a direction or a turn.”

  He laughs. “Oh, I know. My father never decided to go gay. He just always was.”

  “People are stupid.”

  “Says the man who just had his heart ripped out and pulverized in a blender,” he replies, smirking. “You’ve been hating on everyone.”

  “No,” I correct, breathing heavily as my legs hit depletion. “I’m back to my normal oppressive, gloomy state. It’s not my fault the rest of the world is full of fake, shiny, happy people.”

  “… How real was she?”

  “Too real.” I stop, unable to finish my workout, which frustrates me. “I’m done.”

  “Are we going to meet Eddie and his cronies for a drink?”

  “If we must,” I concede, downing the bottle of water. “I will fake a happy for you.”

  “We could pretend to be gay.”

  I wrap my arm around him. “Wang, I love you, man. But there is no way in heaven or hell, your pole can provide what her holes do.”

  “You’re so fucked,” he mutters, straight-faced, before breaking into a hysterical fit of laughter. “Who would’ve thought that Jynx Monroe would ever go off the market?”

  Ripping off my soaked workout shirt, I argue, “I’m not off the market.”

  “You’re not eligible either.”

  Hitting the shower, I think about his opinions of my love life. They don’t bother me because…he’s right. And I’m only going one way—straight like an arrow to Echo Maines heart.

  If that girl wants wine and romance, then I’ll give it to her by the truckload. I’ve got cherubs, chocolate, and a brand new, beautiful, midnight blue Mustang en route to her apartment now.

  In making my final appeal, I understand it may not turn out as I plan. She could reject the traditional pursuit and smack my ass down another notch into the catacombs of hell.

  What do I have to lose? Nothing.

  But if that happens, she’ll leave me with no other choice than to give her exactly what she wants—a filthy fucking gentleman.

  Echo

  “What the hell?” I shout as Lily scrutinizes the sexy piece of machinery sitting in front of our building.

  “I didn’t do it,” she says, tilting her gray-haired-miniature-beehive-looking-do back and forth. Beneath her heavy black-framed glasses, she rolls her eyes at me. “If you don’t want it…I’ll volunteer to be his sex slave.”

  “Lily!” I remark, shocked. “We’re not…”

  Her stern maternal stare stops me dead in my tracks. “Even if we are, involved.”

  She raises a singular finger and waves it at my face. “This is not involvement. That is where you’re wrong, Echo. This is commitment.”
<
br />   “Sweet ride!” Spencer praises on his way out. “Whatever you did for his D,” he yells, walking off. “I wouldn’t stop, baby!”

  Lily uncrosses her arms and holds out her hand. “Give me the keys.”

  “No!”

  “Then drive so we can get to the market before all of the good fish is gone.”

  “You’re not putting fish in my new car!”

  “Oh, yes!” she contends with her old-style charm. “I’m making you dinner before you make the biggest error of your life.”

  I open her door and ask, “… Not mistake?”

  “I say what I mean and I mean what I say and losing this one will be an error.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Because now I have your attention.” Her rounded cheeks perk up as she visibly smiles in my presence for the first time ever. “Your conduct and judgement in the case of this Mister are in dire error.”

  “Dire error?”

  “Don’t make me repeat myself. If you lose this one, a dire error has occurred. You will be going against the forces of nature and the fates that be.”

  “Wait!” I drape my arm on the door. “You’re in my car. I’m taking you to the market. And you’re going to criticize me about my behavior with Jynx?”

  Her eyes widen as she eagerly whispers, “… Is that his name?”

  Grinding my teeth, I sigh, “Yes, Jynx Monroe.”

  “You really nailed a bad boy, honey,” she alleges, pursing her lips tightly. “Don’t make a dire error with Jynx,” she sermonizes like a damn opium princess lounging sensually on a silken fainting couch. With a glazed over look, she gushes, “Jynx and Echo Monroe.”

  This is my life.

  “… Why not grave error?”

  She gives a side-eyed glance and motions a cross over me. “Do not curse yourself with that kind of bad karma! Dire error, dammit! Serious! Not deadly, unless you fuck this up!”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  30

  The Given

  Echo

  After spending the last six hours with Lily, I want to collapse. As it turns out, she’s been fooling everyone this whole time. The woman is a damn firecracker of energy. Not to mention, she’s a hell of a cook. I walk across the hall to my apartment with a large bag of leftovers in tow.

  “Ek!” Spencer says, bolting up the stairs. “Some guy came by earlier.”

  “Guy?” I question, unlocking my door and fearing I missed Jynx.

  I didn’t really have that thought.

  Go away. Leave me alone. Wait. Come back.

  “Yeah,” he replies. “I let him inside.” I gasp at my apartment, which resembles a florist with numerous arrangements. “And then I showed him out.”

  My heart hurts as I try not to cry. “Thanks, Spence.”

  “Whoever he is,” he calmly says. “He is after more than a home run.”

  I smile, unsure of what to say. I disappear inside. “Oh, my fucking God…what the hell!” I close my eyes, but it doesn’t help. I’m human, and unfortunately, breathing is required. The rose scent permeates through my nostrils, filling every inch of me with his adoration. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

  I put the leftover Sanpeijiru (salmon soup) in the fridge along with the half dozen Choux buns doused in dark chocolate and filled with Chantilly cream that Lily insisted I would need in the middle of the night to keep the demons at bay.

  I change my clothes and look around for something to do. I pop my earbuds in and blast Prince as I decide to make the place sparkle or pass out, whichever comes first.

  “Ughhh!” I groan as I finish scrubbing the bathroom at two in the morning. I’ve cleaned the entire apartment, not that Selia left it in a mess. I even moved my desk and computer in her old bedroom since I didn’t plan to have another roommate.

  After gulping down a bottle of water, I put all the cleaning supplies back under the sink. I pass by her room—my new study—and smile at how good the pink and blue lava lamps look casting a sensuous glimmer around the space. I hit the power button on my computer and take a shower.

  Thirty-seven arrangements—All roses. Various colors. No card.

  I don’t need a card.

  Twenty-two handcrafted chocolates in a pink and black polka dot box—A quarter of them are missing now.

  They did come with a card—“Go online, D4RK4NG3L.”

  Five rooms in the apartment that I have been cleaning for the last six hours to avoid communicating with Jynx.

  I fucked this one up.

  Bad.

  Wrapped in my bathrobe, I check on the updates and punch in my password. All of my previous windows open, including the last time I posted the ad and the green light signifying my presence. I scan over my words, reading bits, and pieces out loud as I figure out what to do next.

  “Natural Dominant. Alpha. Male. No nerds or bikers. Bad boys welcome. Pure ravishment, abduction, and torture scenes. I do not wish to know your name, your peacocks, horses, or Grandma’s names,” I elaborate, giggling and shaking my head. “I am not looking to date, have an affair, or engage in a romance.”

  “Read it again, J!”

  I have 457 emails in my inbox.

  I delete all of them.

  “All that is required by you is a willingness to control the scene and a giant, hard cock…that you know how to use. The right suitor appreciating violent sexual encounters. I agree to struggle, play the role of victim, and provide you with a challenge. You agree to use protection, not bruise any flesh above the neck or below the wrists, and incite fear in me….or fall in love with me,” I mutter as tears flourish in my eyes. “Just surprise me.”

  God, he was perfect.

  A box pops up on the screen, and my mouth drops open.

  $T4LK3R: I see you.

  D4RK4NG3L: Took you long enough.

  $T4LK3R: I could say the same about you, Sweet Pea.

  D4RK4NG3L: I was busy.

  $T4LK3R: Big date?

  D4RK4NG3L: Yes! With a sixty-some-odd-year-old Japanese woman.

  $T4LK3R: Did you eat?

  D4RK4NG3L: Yes.

  $T4LK3R: Did you drive your car?

  D4RK4NG3L: Yes. And so did Lily.

  $T4LK3R: … Lily?

  D4RK4NG3L: My date.

  $T4LK3R: Ahh. Is she hot?

  D4RK4NG3L: LOL She wants to be your sex slave if I don’t.

  A long awkward pause shifts the energy of the conversation. I wish I had the box of buns, course I’d probably lick and suck all of the cream.

  Oh. God.

  Stop thinking, Abs.

  D4RK4NG3L: Thank you for all of the gifts, but you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. It was too much.

  $T4LK3R: Do you…want to be my sex slave?

  I close my eyes, scared of what my answer will bring and who we will become. I can tell myself a thousand times I am not a submissive, but something shifts inside me when he pilots. Every worry and care diminishes unless I have an unexpected breakdown while he’s snatching my innocence like a pirate.

  D4RK4NG3L: I don’t know.

  $T4LK3R: Tomorrow, a gentleman will be coming to your door at 6 PM. He’s taking you to the theater and dinner. Wear the dress and shoes that will arrive. Enjoy yourself.

  D4RK4NG3L: … Huh?

  $T4LK3R: When he leaves, message me.

  D4RK4NG3L: I do not want to date. Did you not read my ad? I don’t want a man. Any man. I should never have been with you as long as I was. I’m a toxic individual, unhealthy for anyone around me, including you.

  $T4LK3R: When he leaves, message me.

  His light turns red. “Fucker!”

  I rush to the kitchen, grab the box from the fridge, and eat half the box of buns. And when I finally cannot consume any more and I’ve successfully managed to throw myself into a carb coma, I curl into a ball on my pristine floor, under the canopy of rose petals, and cry myself to sleep.

  One more night alone.

  I spend hours preparing for the
date. The black dress and heels are tastefully alluring, but nothing I would pick to wear with Jynx. The dress hem is four inches too long, and the shoes are two inches too short.

  I consider going renegade and whoring out to the max.

  Cause why the fuck not?

  After putting on fifty pounds of makeup, I cannot do anything to ease the ache within. I miss J. I want this night to be with him.

  Maybe it will be him.

  The idea excites me as my bell rings at 5:59 PM. I take a deep breath, not bothering with the peephole, and swing open the door. The guy, with messed up grunge-styled, spiked, black hair and hazel eyes, grins at me.

  “Bran!” I scream and leap into his arms. So much for wearing any makeup as the tears stream the warpaint down my cheeks. I haven’t seen my brother since Christmas in Florida. We took a long walk, smoked a blunt, and talked about the future. “When did you get here?”

  “Earlier today,” he says. “I’ve got almost three months sober. You want to celebrate with me?”

  “How long are you staying?”

  “Only tonight,” he answers as we step inside. “I’m selling the place in Alabama.”

  “I know,” I say, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay.”

  “You promise?”

  “We have to grow up and move on, Brandon.”

  He nods as I walk to the bathroom. “The guy who called me…”

  “That’s a long story.” Staring in the mirror, I wipe my tears. He stares at our reflection. We look very similar except for our height. I can’t stop crying. “One I cannot talk about.”

  “He likes you a lot,” he implores, laying his hand on my shoulder. “Can I drive your new car?”

  “Yeah. He told you?” I ask, and he nods.

  “He told me lots of things, Abby.”

  Segueing the uncomfortable chatter, I give up any hope of makeup staying on and question, “You want a chocolate or a dozen roses?”

  Like hell, I’m sharing my buns.