Degrade

by T. L Smith

  “Did you know?” his mother walks up to him screaming at him now. Zeke nods his head and she slaps him, then walks off.

  “What happened?” Zeke asks, walking into his father.

  “I don’t know, you’ll have to go the clubhouse,” his father says looking deflated.

  “You told her?” he asks his father.

  “She had to know, I’m paying for his funeral, I was the first contact. It’s time we stop shielding her,” he says and notices me for the first time attached to Zeke’s side. He forces a smile and nods his head then walks away.

  We don’t stay long and he drives me back to his house, the one I thought he’d sold. I give him a puzzled look when he opens the door and everything looks the same.

  Did he lie to me?

  “Quinton, I gave it to him,” he says explaining my unasked question. I nod my head and he walks to his office. This place carries bad memories for me. This is where I arrested him. “Just go to bed, Bexley,” he says, not looking up while searching through his files.

  “Are we going back to this, Zeke?” I ask him standing my ground, he doesn’t look at me straight away.

  “I don’t deal well with emotion, you should know this by now. I’ve been trying, but right now, I need space,” he says, and I don’t know if he means space from me, or just time to think.

  ****

  I lay on the bed for hours. Hours of him not coming, hours of not hearing from him. Wondering what I should do? When he walks in looking deflated, he kicks his shoes off, and then the rest of his clothes follow. Climbing in next to me, he pulls me to him, then kisses my shoulder.

  “He fucked up bad, I can’t leave again, Pixie,” he says sounding so depressed. I don’t voice my concern, I just lay there wrapped in his arms, wondering what tomorrow will bring.

  ****

  The next day comes fast, most of it I don’t see him. He’s gone before I wake and I’m left alone. It’s not until later that day he walks back in the door looking run down and tired. He has blood on his hands, his face is masked. If I didn’t know him so well, I wouldn’t go near him. He looks scary with an evil glint in his eye.

  “Zeke?” I say and he walks straight past me not saying a word, heading for the shower. I stand there shocked at first and decide to follow. He’s in the shower, head against the wall with hands on either side. The blood rushes off of him turning the water red and then disappears down the drain. He doesn’t move when I push the curtain back and step in. I’m clothed, in only shorts and tank top. I wrap my hands around him, hugging him from behind.

  “I don’t want this life for you,” he says, not moving.

  “I want this,” I say and squeeze him. One of his hands drops and he covers mine with his. The blood washed away, my mind can’t even ask him why there was blood covering him though I guess it has to do with Quinton.

  “Marry me?” he asks, turning around to face me.

  “I can’t have kids, Zeke, I have no equipment down there for that. It’s all gone,” I say wanting to make it clear to him that it can never happen for us. I’ve come to live with the fact and he shouldn’t have to if that’s what he wants. My mother had cervical cancer, so did my grandmother. I was advised it was safer for me to have everything removed before it took my life as well. I had cancer, it’s all gone now.

  “I said, marry me, Pixie,” he says turning around and pinning me against the wall.

  “Yes,” I say to him. He wants me, just me. Against all that has stood before us… it’s just us.

  “I come with all this, Bexley. I’ve tried, but it’s all my responsibility and it won’t leave me,” he says brushing my hair from my face. Watching my lips carefully.

  “Not all of it,” I say hoping he did get rid of the other businesses.

  “Not all, just the MC. I can’t rid myself of that, it’s mine.” His lips slowly come down to touch mine and I let him. He stops all of a sudden and walks out of the shower, leaving me there yet again alone. I don’t move, and when I hear the door close, I look at it and see him naked with a ring box, he steps back into the shower. Rolls the case around in his palm and looks at me.

  “I don’t do happily ever after, but I do, do, right now. I didn’t do women, once was all I needed, but then they weren’t you. I didn’t do love, it wasn’t for me. But you made me see it, and feel it. And it’s all yours,” he says taking the ring from the box and sliding it onto my finger. I don’t look at the ring. Instead, my eyes are trained on him. His face when he talks, the passion in his eyes, the way he watches me. “I did it all wrong, but I’m all kinds of fucked up, you already know that. But now, you have me anyway,” he says winking stepping forward and wrapping me in a vice like grip. I look over his shoulder at the ring. It’s a ruby, covered with diamonds surrounding it.

  “It’s red,” I say surprised, but also loving it.

  “The devil loves red,” he says and I smile. He gets me, and that’s all that matters.

  We loved with a love that was more than love.

  ~Edgar Allan Poe~

  She swings around the dance floor with my father, her black dress hugging all her curves on her beautiful body. We’re married, I didn’t want to wait long. It’s been two months since I put that ring on her finger. Two months of planning and organizing for this day. The moment she stepped down the aisle in her black wedding dress with a red sash wrapped around her hips, I knew I’d never want another woman.

  She is it.

  No one can compare.

  My sight is blocked by my annoying friend, who’s dressed in all white. In a dress to be exact, and I stifle a laugh when I look her up and down. She smacks me hard in the gut.

  “Laugh again and I’m punching lower,” Aria warns. She stands next to me and watches as my father dips Bexley back, and says something to her when he does and a smile lights her face, making her laugh. “I would never wear this for anyone else,” Aria mutters next to me.

  “I would never marry anyone else,” I mutter back to her.

  “Yeah, she’s something special, isn’t she? Can I have her?” she jokes, well at least I think she’s kidding.

  “She is,” I reply and Bexley stands and kisses my father’s cheek. She spots us and makes her way over. Before she gets to us a man steps in front of her, she looks back to me then to the man and nods her head to him. Aria grabs my arm and stops me from walking.

  “Chill man, you just put a ring on it,” she says holding my arm.

  “Don’t you have anyone else to bother?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

  “Psst, you’re it. It’s so much fun, you’re like a child,” she goads.

  “I’m walking away now, Aria,” I tell her stepping to where Tragger just took my wife to the dance floor. “Go all macho man on her ass,” she yells behind me.

  I tap Tragger on the shoulder and he steps back and gives me my wife. She smiles up at me grabbing my red tie and straightening it.

  “Miss me?” she asks placing her hands around my neck. My hands circle around her waist, hanging onto her ass.

  “Always,” I say kissing her head.

  “I want us to do something,” I say and she looks up at me and smiles.

  “Yeah, what?”

  “I want us to write notes to each other, seal them, and open them in two years’ time.”

  “Oh, you’re pretty sure of yourself,” she says smacking my chest.

  “Pixie, there’s no leaving me. You do realize that?” I warn her.

  “I know, you would hunt me down and keep me locked up forever,” she teases.

  “I would,” I say to her smiling.

  I never want another woman in my life. You’re it. You will always be it.

  Love me, when I’m old.

  You better still be putting out, I will always want that pussy.

  Tell me every day, how much you love me.

  Never underestimate my love for you. It knows no bounds.

  I have loved you from the moment I saw you.

&nb
sp; My one rule, my one rule is never to stop showing you my love.

  This story is not one of rainbows and happily ever after’s, so if you’re looking for that, stop reading. My story is fucked and deluded, just like the person telling it.

  You see, I’m a trafficker. I traffic gorgeous young men for my clients, the lonely old women whose husbands are more than likely off cheating on them.

  You’re not going to like me, I’m not going to lie.

  I’m a bitch, a manipulator, the type of girl your mother warned you about.

  I want to tell you a story, a story about some fucked up people. I am one of those fucked up people, among many. I was a woman who didn’t take no for an answer, I got what I wanted and I was good at what I did. My job wasn’t something ordinary people could do; you had to have no heart. Be cold as the cement beneath your feet, and that’s who I was, well I thought I was.

  My job was hard, but I was good at it. I thought I would always be good at it. I was a fucked up person filling other people's fucked up realities, and that’s not even the worst of it. You may hate me by the end of this story, but I don’t really give a fuck. I don’t strive for people to love me or even like me.

  So to tell you my complicated story, and how I came to where I am today. I have to take you back, back to the beginning.

  I’d like to tell you about my childhood, and that it was so fucked up and it’s the reason I do what I do, but that would be a lie. My childhood was much like most people’s childhoods. I had a mother and father, who love me greatly. I have a brother and a sister, and though they get on my nerves, we love each other just as much.

  No, my upbringing had nothing to do with the person I am today. That came from a night out with my brother and his new girlfriend. My brother is my twin. We do look a lot alike, with our dark hair and tanned skin. Both with the same hazel eyes, though unlike him, my body is covered in ink. Which, of course, my parents aren’t a big fan of, but the ink is my way to express my differences. I yearn to be different; I don’t want a mundane life.

  So, anyway where was I?

  Oh yes, my brother. Sometimes he knows me so well, that he knows what I’m thinking without saying it. It can be useful at times and some, not so much. Our baby sister who’s only one year younger than us could pass as our twin as well. We all look alike though our personalities differ considerably.

  Jagger is my twin, and male whore working his way through lawyer school. Jessa is my baby sister, and I’m pretty sure wants to be a Goth. Me, well, I’m lost. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Nothing interests me, and I feel that time is ticking away. I’m almost twenty-five and still live at home with my parents. I work at a café that I absolutely hate. It’s full of rich and snobby people. My name is Aria, the lost person who has no idea what I want to do. There’s no way in hell I plan to work the rest of my life waitressing but as I said, I’m fussy and have no idea what I want to do.

  Though as I was saying, that changed one night with Jagger’s girlfriend. Celcia was her name, she was already a lawyer. I’d known her for a few years though we never talked much. I knew she knew all about me from my brother, and as much of a whore that he is, he also has a bigger mouth than a girl that’s drunk. Celcia had one too many drinks and decided to tell me about her sex life. I wasn’t interested until she told me how she came about her sexual partners. I thought she was lying to start off with, I thought that doesn’t happen in the real world, only in movies or books. She asked for my number and told me they wanted someone new, someone who could get the job done. Whatever the job was? I brushed her off and thought nothing of it. That was until one night at work.

  I never gave a second thought to what Celcia told me that night. I assumed she was drunk and making shit up. She wasn’t. I should have listened carefully, taken in all that she was rambling about. But I didn’t, so the following week when a gentleman came up to me and asked for me by my name, I was surprised. And then when he asked to talk to me in private, I was even more surprised. Then he asked me how many times I’ve been in love and had sexual partners, I was ready to punch him. He laughed at me, his name was Dominic. He wouldn’t tell me much at first; he wanted to get to know me, to see what I was capable of. He was in his early thirties I’m guessing. Very attractive, dressed in a suit. Short dark hair, mysterious was what he was.

  “Celcia said you’re what I’m looking for. She said you would be able to handle what needed to be done. I’m not quite sure, you seem too young, too good.”

  I wanted to yell at him, to scream at him. The way he said “good,” was like I was a schoolgirl, who did no wrong. So I answered all his questions that day, even the ones I didn’t want to. I needed to know more about what he was offering, even if that meant telling him things I didn’t want to.

  “Have you been in love?”

  “No.”

  “Do you enjoy sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to fall in love?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want a husband and kids?”

  “No.”

  “Could you hurt someone so bad that even if they’re pleading with you to stop, but you’re not allowed to?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you be discreet?”

  “Yes.”

  The questions went on and on, and it seemed as though he was testing me, seeing what made me tick. Testing to see my limits. I wasn’t lying when I answered all his questions. I don’t want those things. I like to spoil myself, have everything to myself. I’m selfish, I don’t like to share. I grew up sharing everything my whole life, whether it was with my sister with my clothes, or my brother knowing my thoughts. I wanted to separate myself from that, to be my own person, and Dominic was offering me that.

  “I’m not going to lie, you’re a beautiful woman. It’s what I look for, looks are a big factor in what I do. But also strength, I don’t want someone who would fuck up my operation because she cared too much, or she thought what I do is too cruel. I strive in my business, Aria. If you fuck with my business…well, let’s just say you would not be happy.” He leans back in his chair and takes me in. What I guess he’s looking for is something that says I would crack. That he could pick up just from my facial expressions, but I’ve started to master my facial expressions. One has to do so when your family can pick up on the smallest of things.

  “Meet me tomorrow at this address. If you think you can handle what I’ll show you, you’ll have yourself a job.” He stands and holds out a card to me. I take it and stand and shake his hand. He looks me over again, this time his eyes roaming my body from top to bottom.

  He never said another word then he left. I stood there bewitched by him and his questions. Wondering what kind of job would require such information. Surely what Celcia said can’t all be true.

  Woman don’t traffic men, do they?

  I’ve heard stories of women been taken and sold into sex slavery, but never a man. Women are an easy capture, easy prey. Dominic seems to think the other way around.

  ****

  I dress in shorts, runners and a blue tank top the next day. As I make my way downstairs, my mother shakes her head at me.

  “What?” I harrumph at her, grabbing my bag from the kitchen table.

  “Can you not cover them up?” She waves her hand in the direction of my body, at my tattoos. I give her the stink eye. You know the one, where you don’t want to insult your loved one, but what they just said you think is utterly ridiculous.

  “I think they’re beautiful,” my father says coming up to stand next to me and wrapping a hand around my shoulders to pull me in for a hug. I’m such a daddy’s girl and I love it.

  “She isn’t a man, Ryan, she’s a lady.” I know she means well, and I did almost give her a heart attack when I was twenty and came home from vacation covered in ink.

  “No, she’s a strong independent woman, with beautiful words and roses covering her body. Just stop it now, Julie, leave her be.” My father
gives me one last squeeze before he walks away, leaving me standing there facing my mother.

  “You know I mean no disrespect, hunny. I love you. I just don’t understand this,” she says waving her hands at my arms that are covered in Celtic writing. I do cover up some around her, I have more than her eyes can currently see.

  I walk over and kiss her cheek, I’m already running late. Dominic is expecting me in thirty minutes. He was flat on the phone, not providing many details. Told me where and when to meet him, and he said not to be late before he hung up on me. I wanted to ring him back and tell him off for hanging up, but that probably wouldn’t land me a job.

  I arrive at a luxury house five minutes late and see two men standing on the front terrace. I guess they’re bodyguards. They look me over, from top to bottom assessing me. The taller one walks out to me and pats me down, he doesn’t say a word. The shorter one nods for me to enter the house. I give him a weird look, are they not allowed to talk?

  I walk straight past the men and into a dimly lit entrance. Dominic is standing there waiting for me. He looks me over the same way he did at the restaurant, then his lip quirks up into a smile. I place my hand on my hip and raise my eyebrows, his quirk stops and he starts to walk off leaving me standing there.

  “Follow,” he says softly, just loud enough for me to hear. I straighten my stance and follow him up the staircase stopping on the second level of the house. I look around and notice it’s all rooms up here. There are no paintings on the wall, and no photos. Just plain white walls. Downstairs was much the same, but it feels smaller and bearer up here.

  “Ms. Nixon, are you sure you want this job?” Dominic asks with his hand on the doorknob looking at me. I’m still not one hundred percent sure what this job entails, but I’m not one to back down. I don’t question him either about how he knew my name. I just nod my head and wait to see what he has for me.