by Paige Notaro
The problem, was I wanted it too. I knew it was wrong, but the idea of rejecting him, of being shut in here alone for another week hit me full force. I rushed back out before I had to think about it any more.
"You look lovely," Mr. Tarly said, escorting me by my arm. I hadn't changed a thing, but I had listened. That must be enough for him.
We got into the car and drove back through the desert. I turned and saw the house fade into the background behind. The sky had already darkened red. By this time I would be lying on the couch waiting for sleep to take me away from my dim life. This was better than that, right? It had to be.
Little shacks started to appear on the side of the road and people soon after that. I watched the women carrying water and the little kids running around like they were aliens on another planet. It had only been two weeks since my capture, but I felt like I hadn’t seen humans in years. The guards, sure, but they had been like stone gargoyles you see on castles – just part of the building.
The streets grew louder and busier. I heard car horns, people shouting, radios. Street lights dazzled the inside of the SUV as we passed through cone after cone. This place had seemed dark before, but now the whole area was bursting with life.
Mr. Tarly had his hand resting gently on my lap. I had forgotten it, but we turned a corner and he gave me a squeeze. I looked up sharply and he just smiled and nodded.
You could get away here, I realized suddenly. The streets lay wide open.
We stopped soon at what looked like just a slightly brighter house. It had a patio up front though with plastic chairs and tables. Some already held families talking quietly and eating.
Mr. Tarly sat me down at an empty one.
"You like beef right?" he said. "Not too spicy.”
I nodded because both things were true.
"Ok, just wait right here."
He went up to a dingy counter and began talking to them in Spanish. I looked around to see where I could possibly go. The back of the restaurant was walled in. The driver stood by the car, smoking and blocking the path to the front.
I had tables on either side of me. A few of the adults threw glances my way. The kids stared. I realized that I stood out like an alien myself with my blonde hair. That and the SUV and the armed driver.
I saw a man who was eating by himself. He looked younger and tougher, wide shouldered and hunched over. He spotted my gaze, then glanced at the driver and concentrated deeply on his meal.
I wished I had learned how to say "Help" in Spanish, but it didn’t look like it would have mattered. None of these people wanted anything to do with me. I was involved in something much bigger than their lives were worth. What had Mr. Tarly said? The city was dangerous. These people were just trying to survive. Why risk anything to help some random girl?
Mr. Tarly came back and sat proudly across from me. "This place is unbelievable. I'm damn happy I found it."
He studied me piece by piece. I was too numb to do anything but wait for it to finish. "Is everything alright?" he asked.
I stared with unbelieving eyes. How could he keep this act up? Like he didn't know what he was doing to me.
Like he didn't know it was working.
I shook my head and that seemed enough for him. He went back to his cheery tone, telling me about some business deals he had made in the past week. Apparently he lived in Houston, but came down here a lot for business. Oil or something, though I knew there had to be more for him to know people who had safe houses. He seemed pretty proud about the money he'd made recently. I wanted to ask if it was why he'd decided to spend some of it buying me, but the food came and I had an excuse not to talk.
They were thick slices of steak, fried with onions and peppers. Just the sight of all that grease had me groaning with hunger. It was delicious. That was the worst part. He was giving me an actual treat for behaving well. Like I were his pet.
I finally got the courage to speak. It was to ask for seconds. Not much of a protest, but let's see a dog do that. Mr. Tarly smiled and got me some more.
My stomach burst at the seams when we got back in the car. Mr. Tarly's hand rested confidently on my thigh. What did I owe him now?
We got back to the house - vacant without me. Mr. Tarly led me to the door but didn't follow past the doorstep. I almost sighed with relief.
"Hey, where you running off to?" he said.
"I need to go lie down."
He chuckled. "Well I can understand that. Why don't you come back and say good bye first?"
I paced back up to him. He edged in close to me. "That was a good meal huh? A good time."
I nodded carefully.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said. "It's good to see you happy."
"Yeah."
He sighed happily. "Good food, good company. Great night."
I wished he would just take what he wanted and leave. I was tired of listening, tired of pretending I could keep myself from him.
"I like to cap off good nights with a kiss," he said.
"Oh."
He peered down at me. "Can I kiss you?"
Could he? Yeah, I couldn't stop him. Even last week when he had let me go, I had no choice. He was just pretending to give me one. Would he leave me alone for a month if I said no? I didn’t even have the courage to try.
"Ok," I said, whispering to hide the word from even myself.
He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. The second they touched I had the urge to jump back, spit him out of me. Luckily, he pulled back before that happened.
His face darkened with shadows as he smiled. "That was nice," he said. "Well sleep tight. We'll catch up tomorrow."
He hopped back to his car and they drove off. The guards shushed me back through the doors.
I lay in the bed wondering what had just happened to me. After a while, I remember the kiss and wiped it off against the sheets.
Even then, I knew it was too late. He had gotten what he wanted. He had already crept onto me. He was starting to seep under my skin, and one day soon, he would be inside me completely.
CHAPTER SIX
Georgia
A week went by better and worse than the last. Mr. Tarly left again, but not before showering me with books and magazines and stuffing the pantry full of better food. I got anything I asked for except for a cellphone. I had summoned the courage to ask, but he'd batted aside the request as dangerous and easy to track.
Track by who? Who would have any idea what my phone number would be? I had tried to ask, but he seemed in such a good mood that I was afraid to puncture it. Next time, I promised myself.
All he demanded in turn was a tight hug and a kiss. It wasn't more than a warm press on my lips, for now. He wouldn't force me, but he wanted more. I knew it in the way his hands roamed over my back and his lips lingered longer and longer. He wanted me to pull in, to give myself to him willingly. All I felt for him was a weight on my chest and stress churning in my stomach.
He'd been gone three days before he came back. I was lounging on the sofa and dreaming myself on the vast open ocean instead of this desert. The guards might have been there but it didn’t matter. They couldn’t stop me from diving into the waves.
The door clopped open and he stormed down the hall. Right then I knew something was different. He usually lingered and waited for me to come looking. I bolted up as he burst into the room. His face was flush and red, and he was panting. This was more than just the heat. His eyes fixed on me wildly. My heart leapt to my throat.
"Lord, you're a sight for sore eyes. Come give me a kiss."
I stood carefully, but he scooped me deep against his body and crushed his mouth down on mine. His hands curved into the soft crease of my butt, as his tongue pressed into my mouth.
I stood there and taking this new invasion with no more than a groan of protest. Maybe it sounded like pleasure to his ears, cause he glowed when he pulled off and looked at me.
"Mmm, I don't even know why I leave this place." He sat and p
ulled me down onto his lap. "Would you like that? If I stayed?"
I stared at the massive wall of flesh and felt nothing. No happiness, of course, but no shock or revulsion. I had known this was coming and that felt like a betrayal in its own way - to accept this as my destiny.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"Not anymore, angel," he said, stroking my hair and looking intently at my body.
"I've never seen you like this. What happened?"
"Ah, bad deal, but that's just business, you know. Nothing for you to worry about."
His touch sank down my back, rustled the strap of my bra. My stomach almost flipped inside out. No, I wouldn't just give in – not so easily.
"I made something for you," I said, jumping off his lap and rushing to the kitchen. The rest of the lunch still sat cooling on the stove. I scooped some onto a plate and held it to Mr. Tarly like an offering. He raised an eyebrow at the mishmash of ground beef, pasta and beans.
"I don't cook really well, but I wanted to practice in case you came again."
Of course I hadn't made it for him, but I bit my lips and pretended like I was waiting with bated breath. He dug in heartily. I had thought it was pretty good. Whether his enthusiasm was genuine or just pleasure at me serving him, I wasn’t sure.
"You're a natural," he said. "I love it."
I sat down a reasonable distance away and flicked on the TV. We watched in blissful silence while he ate. I knew he could speak Spanish, so this might actually be interesting for him. Eventually, that plate rattled down onto the coffee table.
"That was fantastic. A home cooked meal - just the sort of thing I could get used to."
"I'm glad." That part of his fantasy I could do every day.
"Now how can I thank you?" He edged closer.
"Oh, you've done enough."
"Yeah?" he asked, his arm looping around me. "Well I'm glad you're settling in fine now."
Settling in. He wasn't even pretending about trying to take me back now.
"I think this should be a really special night for us." His whisper ran in my ear.
"The sun's still out," I said, as if it could stand witness.
"Not for long. And I know just what we can do to pass the time."
His hot breath shoved down my shirt. I shut my eyes and waited.
"How about I take you to a fight?"
"A fight?" I looked at him to make sure this wasn't some awful metaphor.
"These Mexicans, they know how to do it right. Raw and real. It really gets your blood racing."
His mind was turned somewhere inward, with a different sort of lust. I knew it could shift my way at any second, but any delay from my final destination counted as a blessing.
"Sure," I said. "That sounds fun."
"Yeah?"
"Uh-huh." I flashed a broad smile, but he dove into it with his mouth. His weight pushed me into the sofa. I pressed back, twisted out of his grip and stood trying to look playful. "I better get ready."
"Yeah you better."
I locked myself in the bathroom for a long while. I could barely meet my eyes in the mirror. The glass was so flimsy. I could shatter my reflection and then I could use it to end myself. A murder-suicide.
Mr. Tarly rapped the door and broke me out of my daydream. I couldn't kill myself. Somewhere deep down, I already didn't want to disappoint him, already felt that if I gave in to that final step, then there would be nothing else to worry about. Maybe it would be bearable. I splashed water and went out.
We drove off through the desert, but just as we were about to enter the city we took a turn and sped around the edge instead. Mr. Tarly huddled me into him and I felt the fight slowly leave me as the sun slunk out of the sky.
We came to stop in front of a concrete building. It looked nothing different from any other large house further in the city except there were dozens of other dark SUVs like ours parked along the side. Mr. Tarly led me out and toward the gaping entrance. A Mexican guy in a dark shirt and jeans blocked the way. He made my guards look like mice by comparison, and he had an oily black gun slung around his neck.
"Señor Tarly," he called out as we approached.
"Como estas, Miguel?" Mr. Tarly slapped his meaty shoulder.
Miguel raised an eyebrow at me. "Muy bonita, señor."
"Sí," Mr. Tarly said and then they were both admiring me. I peered into the dark building but all I saw were more men’s’ faces turned my way.
"Are we going inside?" I asked. "It's hot."
"Sure, sweetheart," Mr. Tarly said and pulled me into the building. The guys I'd seen in silhouette nodded at him as we came in. They all wore powerful looking guns around their shoulders.
We went down a sharp set of stairs. A buzz filled the air and grew until it became the sound of men's voices yelling and angry. We burst through a set of doors manned by another set of guards and the roar filled my ears. This place might be small on the surface but it was a massive arena down here. The walls swelled out on all sides filled with low rising bleachers. Packs of men sat here and there watching the center where there was a vast cage of some sort. Nothing was inside but a dirt-packed floor.
I was led around the outside of the cage. Men's eyes turned to me with naked hunger. These men were not big and soft like Mr. Tarly. They had lean, toned bodies. Some wore no shirts. Their faces were taut like guard dogs ready to bite.
We went up one of the aisles past another half dozen armed men and sat down in a section with cushioned seats and armrests. The few other men around wore dark suits, slicked hair and looked more in command. A couple nodded at Mr. Tarly. These must be the business partners. A few had women of their own next to them. Some looked bored, some meek. No one looked at me. I must be nothing special.
Mr. Tarly held me possessively tight and pointed out some names. These were powerful and dangerous men, according to him, extremely cruel. I wondered if he thought he was better than them. Maybe he was nice for this place. Maybe he came here to remind himself that at least he wasn't destroying a life. Just a soul.
Some women in bikinis filed out doors at the other end of the arena and danced into the cage. The room set off in a howl at the smell of meat. The women laughed and jiggled their massive chests and smiled ear to ear. But not to their eyes. They didn’t look afraid but they didn’t look like they wanted to be here much. It made me sad and also comforted me. Maybe I wasn’t so weak for giving in.
A couple started to fake fight, but mostly just ripped each other’s clothes off. One guy watching ran straight up to the cage and rattled the chains like he could break through. Two of the big men with guns threw him back onto his seat.
I didn't want to see this. It was my future, more or less. I would never be free, just submit less and later than he wanted me too.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked. "Why do I need to see this?"
"Oh this is just a little bit of rowdy fun. This ain't what we're here to see."
The girl-fight broke up and they ran giggling back out the door to a collective groan from the arena. A short man in a striped black and white shirt strode into the middle of the cage and started to speak rapidly into a bullhorn.
Mr. Tarly translated. "Alright, came the right night after all. The Black Death is fighting."
The what? I remembered reading something about that in history books. Who would choose that name?
The announcer’s voice rose and the crowd began to growl and hoot. A strong Mexican guy in gray shorts, taped hands and nothing else strode out through the side doors. The important people next to us were on their feet clapping and shouting along with others, but the man in the cage didn’t react. He barely lifted his head from side to side before going up to the referee and snatching the microphone. He growled into it in Spanish - but I understood. Someone was going to die.
Except this didn't look like the Black Death. He was no darker than any of the others around. His body had a lot of bulging muscles but it was squat and thick, not fast and deadl
y.
The fighter finished his threats and shoved the mic back to the announcer. The guy started speaking more and then the voices that had been cheering turned too boos. They were countered by a new and more powerful swell of cheers though. Mr. Tarly nearly blew out my ears yowling and yipping next to me.
A silhouette formed against the darkness of the far doors. It grew for a while and then the hands glinted as the figure strode out into the light. He stopped just past the door, white wraps on his hands clasped like in prayer. His head rose and fixed squarely in my sights.
A new wave of cheers poured out of the crowd but everything had just become a wall of sound in my ears. The seating had vanished from my sight. Even Mr. Tarly's massive form didn't register in my view. There was just him. The Black Death.
His body moved smoothly as he made his way to the middle, lean and sinewy and rippling with strength. He stopped in the middle and rose half a head above the referee. His skin was darker than the men around him, but it shone like a copper statue in the dusty light. His face was shaved clean, his features hard and chiseled. Every bit of him screamed efficiency. I knew nothing about fighting, but this man had picked the perfect name.
I wanted to see him move. I wanted to see him infect this place.
My body shook. Mr. Tarly’s arm was around me and squeezing and I remembered what was happening. I was here and he was far away, fighting someone else.
"You are in for a treat," he said. "I've never seen a boy fight the way that one does. He belongs somewhere bigger and better. But he's here."
"So am I."
"Yes you are," Mr. Tarly said, and I couldn’t tell if he’d missed my meaning or got it completely. "Our luck."
I hadn't believed in luck much until that moment. If it existed I had gotten nothing but the short end my whole life. Yet right now, despite everything, I had the sense that I had just gotten my first bit of the good stuff. That however I was here, it was the right place for me to be, right now. I would see how the Black Death fought, and maybe I would learn to do it myself.
"Yeah," I said. "Our luck."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Georgia
