by JJ Knight
“It's a whole different world.”
My line rings again. It's Colt.
“We have the go-ahead to enter the compound. We’ll all stop outside the gate to be let in on foot. No cars are going through right now, not even ours.”
“Got it,” I say.
“See you in a few,” he says and kills the call.
“Are they going to bring the baby into this?” Chloe asks.
I shrug. “I can't imagine Jo will want that.”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” she says. She fiddles with the dress, smoothing the crushed velvet over her knees.
It's less than five minutes to the entrance to the compound. Four men stand outside the gate. The first security car pulls up, and the man in the passenger seat of that car gets out. We pull up next.
One of the guards opens my door. “We’ll handle your car,” he says. “Once you’re inside the gate, another car will take you up to the house.”
“All right,” I say.
Chloe steps out. I walk around the front of the car and take her arm. “Are you ready for this?” I ask her.
“I don't think I have a choice.”
The main gates don’t open, but one of the guards unlocks a small side gate just wide enough for a single person to walk through. When Chloe and I are inside, a black limousine sits idling on the other side. Another very large guard waits by the door. I recognize him as one of The Cure's ex-boxer friends. Most of the guards inside his house are former competitors or friends in the sport.
Chloe and I enter the limo and slide to the back. I take her hand. “This will be all right,” I say.
“If you say so,” she says.
After a few moments, Colt enters the car alone.
“Jo took the baby back to the house?” I ask.
Colt nods. “Bear is too unpredictable to bring into a situation like this.”
I feel Chloe let out a sigh of relief. She's already attached to the little guy. We all are.
Two security men enter the limo with us. I glance out the window. It looks as though two more are going to walk alongside as we drive up to the house. This is unprecedented for anything I’ve seen happen at a Sunday family dinner.
We slowly ease forward. It's a good distance from the gate to the house. It makes for a nice walk in normal circumstances. I glance down at Chloe's shoes. High heels. None of us are dressed for fighting tonight, that's for sure.
When we make it to the grand entrance, another four guards are standing outside the front door. This is nuts. Twelve so far and we’re not even inside.
“How many security guards does he have?” Chloe asks.
Colt fiddles with his tie. “On a night like this, I would venture close to fifty.”
“Oh my God. Fifty!” Chloe exclaims.
The limo door opens. The guards by the door and the guards from both inside and outside the limo create a double line between the car and the front door.
“Please move quickly,” one of them says with measured calm.
We’re ushered inside the house. Chloe looks around the foyer. I can tell she’s rather awestruck. I remember the first time I saw it. It's like walking into the lobby of a museum, several stories high and large enough to fit her whole apartment inside. The marble floor gleams. Broad columns run from floor to ceiling.
“Wow,” she says.
“I know,” Colt says. “It's ridiculously over the top.”
I nudge Colt. “You going to tell her about all the times you slid down that banister?” It's a favorite old story.
Chloe glances up at the grand staircase. The smooth, curved rail runs along what must be a hundred steps. I wouldn't have been able to resist that as a kid, either.
Eve sweeps into the room. “I'm so glad you're here,” she says, holding out her arms to Colt. “So unfortunate that Jo and Bear can’t be here tonight.”
She kisses me on the cheek. “Please introduce me to your young lady.”
“Eve, this is Chloe. We had a great time going through the dresses you sent.”
Eve turns to her. “And I love your choice. Classic but distinctive. You’re very lovely.” She takes Chloe's hand and presses it between hers.
“Thank you,” Chloe says. She’s fallen under Eve's spell, like we all do. “Your home is extraordinary.”
Eve laughs. “Pretentious, that's what it is. She waves her hands at the guards now stationed inside the front door as well as outside. “Don't you worry yourself about all that. The situation’s well in hand.”
She leads us to the side study, where we always gather on Sunday evenings prior to dinner. The room’s actually quite full compared to a usual night. I spot Parker in the corner.
He tilts his head at me. His expression is serious. There are very few women. Just black tuxedo after black tuxedo, all on the frames of men who’ve clearly had significant sports training in their lives. The majority of them lean toward the older side, fifty and up for sure, with a few sons and younger friends mixed in. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say the whole lot of them are boxers or MMA fighters.
The Cure is leaving nothing to chance tonight.
Chloe grips my hand. “Are there always this many people?” she whispers in my ear.
“Never,” I say. “At least I've never seen it. Normally there are two or three other couples.”
“There's only three women,” she says.
“I think The Cure wants to make a statement,” I say.
“Do you know them all?” she asks.
“None, well, other than Parker. You remember him from yesterday.”
We head in his direction. Colt has already been taken aside by several of the men. The mood is jovial. Everyone holds their drinks and laughs heartily. There’s no sense that there will be tension now or later.
Parker takes Chloe’s hand and lifts it to his lips. “I'm sorry that you don't get to meet my wife and daughter,” he says. “It looks like tonight is all about the muscle.”
“How did he assemble all these people so quickly?” I ask.
“I'm not in the loop,” Parker says. “All I know is that we got the call that Maddie and Lily should stay at home tonight.”
“When did you get that call?” I ask.
“Twenty minutes ago,” he says. “We were walking out the door.”
“Interesting,” I say. “Because we didn't realize we were being followed until fifteen minutes ago. Jo and Bear were on the way.”
“You were followed?”
“Yeah, by a white Cadillac.”
“Sounds like The General,” Parker says.
Chloe's hand on mine squeezes more tightly. Parker notices. “Don't you worry about a thing,” he says. “If there is anything we can count on, it’s that The Cure has everything well in hand.”
The waiter walks by with glasses of brandy and champagne. Neither Chloe nor I take one. I'm guessing neither one of us want to be under any influence in case something goes down. We've already had one direct hand-to-hand combat this weekend. We may be the only people in the room who fully appreciate the extent that The General is willing to go through to handle this problem.
Someone taps a spoon to a glass as if they are going to make a toast. The room goes quiet.
As we turn from our corner back to the source of the sound, two men I never thought I’d see together enter the room.
Chloe grips me again.
It's The Cure and The General.
Chapter 16: Chloe
Even in a room full of tuxedos, The Cure stands out in his. I try not to shrink back into Hudson as I watch this man for the first time since the night I fled the limo. He holds up his arms to the room.
“Everyone, you may be familiar with Mortimer Hughes,” he calls out. “Some of you simply know him as The General. He runs many of our underground MMA fight rings throughout Los Angeles. We have a long and checkered history.” He laughs. “I hope you’ll welcome him tonight.”
With that, the two men w
alk through the crowd. Hands are shaken, and conversations resume.
My heart beats so fast that I feel lightheaded. I definitely do not get paid enough for this. Although, I guess if I get to keep this dress, that’s probably a month’s earnings. Maybe in each one.
I would swear that The Cure catches Hudson's eye at one point, but he and The General remain on their side of the room until a little bell rings.
Hudson takes my hand. “That's the signal for dinner.”
Eve herself greets the guests and directs them to one room or another. I get the impression that normally the entire dinner party sits in the main dining room, but tonight they’re well over capacity.
When we approach Eve, she sends us toward a long ebony table with bright white runners and place settings so formal you would normally only see them in magazines.
“We're over here,” Hudson says. Little placeholders with crisp white cards show our names in black calligraphy. I glance at the cards next to us. Colt is on the other side of me. It appears that Eve and The Cure are sitting at our end as well. Great.
As everyone settles into their chairs, several servers rush to place tiny plates on top of the pretty silver chargers at each setting. On the plate is a small circle of something white. I'm not sure if it’s bread or fish or some kind of vegetable. A little dollop of red and a perfectly cut sliver of cucumber and carrot lie on top in an artistic presentation.
The table waits for everyone to be served, and I pause a moment longer to watch which fork will be picked up, and how everyone will eat this tiny introduction to our meal.
Hudson chooses a small fork, so I do too. He cuts into the little circle, and I see that it is probably a piece of bread soaked with something.
I’m anxious. Eve is only two seats away. I glance at The Cure. He seems jovial and in his element. He spots me watching him and gives me a wink.
This night is an adventure in every way.
“So good,” Hudson says. “Sunday dinners are always amazing, but it looks like they brought in extra reinforcements for this one.”
I take a bite myself. The subtle flavor of mint and rosemary tingle inside my mouth. It’s amazing. I quickly finish it off. “I could eat ten of those,” I say.
“I know,” Hudson agrees.
The plates are whisked away and replaced with a small fresh salad of greens in a dressing so light that it doesn't seem to exist until the perfect combination of balsamic vinegar and pomegranate fills my mouth. I could eat here every single day.
“This is incredibly delicious,” I whisper to Hudson.
He smiles. “I had a feeling you would like this part.”
I glance over at Eve and The Cure. They talk quietly, their heads close together, like a happy couple. Jo was right about one part of it. It’s interesting seeing him in a different context, when he's not being a raging jerk.
A petite bowl of creamy soup arrives next. Once again, I wish for a gallon of it. It’s light and delicious. The banter increases as the meal goes on. The table is wide enough that it’s difficult to speak to the people across from you without raising your voice.
A voice carries from across the table, despite the clink of dishes. “So, Reckless, I see you’re one of the favored few who got to bring a lady tonight.”
A round of laughs follows.
“This is Chloe,” Hudson says. “She was with me when I won my first match a couple nights ago.”
The man who speaks to us is handsome and friendly, around the same age as The Cure. “Seems as though all it took was a lovely lady to motivate you to get yourself in the cage.”
I don't know what to say to any of this. On one hand, it's lighthearted and flattering. On the other hand, it’s a whole lot of sexist baloney.
Hudson reaches down between our chairs to squeeze my hand. He always seems to know what I'm thinking.
“Don't pay attention to any of these idiot fighters,” he says. “Everyone at this table has had their brains bashed in one too many times to have a coherent thought.”
This gets roaring laughter from several of the men in our vicinity.
“He wins one match and he's talking trash to the old guard,” another one says. He’s significantly older, probably more in the eighties, but still very fit.
The main course arrives, three succulent slices of tender prime rib. The men murmur their approval, except for Colt. He gets a plate of sliced vegetables and tofu.
The man across from us points his knife at Colt's plate. “What the hell is that?”
“Well, up until yesterday, I was vegan,” Colt says.
Eve sits up straighter. “You didn't tell me that you changed your diet again,” she says.
“It's fine,” Colt says. “I'm switching on a whim these days.”
The Cure slices a hefty bite of his meat and holds it up. “Back in my day, fighters got by on raw eggs and rare meat,” he says. He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully.
“Well, back in the day, you all got clobbered with a thousand concussions without realizing how badly it was going to mess up your head,” Colt says. He stabs his tofu.
That gets a grunt of acknowledgment from several people in the room.
I eat quietly. It's hard to imagine that I'm sitting here among all these people. If I could look them all up, I'm sure I would learn crazy things about all of them. Fights they won. Winnings they earned. Probably all of them have Wikipedia entries and footage that was once nationally televised.
It's uncomfortable, thinking about them in terms of the enemy. The people my organization is seeking to harm. My stomach turns, and I set down my knife and fork, not sure I can eat anymore.
Eve catches my gesture. “Are you all right, my dear?” she asks. “Don't let these big lugs spoil your appetite.”
I nod to her and make a point of attempting a few more bites. The friendly man across the table says, “So, Hudson, introduce me to your girl. Tell me about her.”
Hudson sets down his silverware. “Chloe, this is Tony, also known as the Italian Tiger. He was a lightweight boxing title holder in the late 70s.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
“So, Chloe, are you a student? Do you work with trainers or in the sport?”
I glance over at Hudson uncertainly. He doesn't seem concerned by the question.
“I'm studying social work,” I say. That seems the safest thing.
The Cure looks at me with a smile that you could really only describe as evil.
“Oh, no,” he says. “I hear that you have quite the career going. Tell us all about it.”
My breath catches. He's trying to outsmart me. Make me out my game. Fear curdles through my belly. What if this whole thing is a trap? The two men. Hudson swooping in to save me. Moving in with Jo and Colt. The dresses. This dinner.
My throat feels so dry. I'm not sure I can even respond. Panic steals my breath. “If you'll excuse me,” I say. “Where can I find a bathroom?”
Hudson pushes back his chair. “I'll show you.”
“No, no,” I say. “Enjoy your meal while it's hot.” I glance over at Eve. Surely she’ll save me. “If you could just direct me, I'm sure I can find it.”
Eve glances at her husband uncertainly. The panic rises even higher. Even she's in on it. They all are. What sort of danger am I in? I press my hand to my chest, everything so tight inside that I can barely breathe.
“It's just to the left of the first room we were in, dear,” Eve says. “Wouldn’t you like someone to go with you?”
I shift my chair back and stand, setting my linen napkin down. “I'll be right back,” I say.
I hurry out of the dining room and through to the room that was crowded just a few minutes earlier. It’s empty except for two servers chatting by the door.
They look up as I pass, about to say something, so I raise my hand. “Bathroom,” I say.
They point in the same direction Eve mentioned.
I find the door and step inside. This is no ordinary bathroom
. It's a large room with soft carpeting and a long, double sink at least ten feet wide. Two armchairs flank a small table to one side.
On the far wall are three doors, each leading to small bathroom stalls. It's the sort of setup you might see in a fancy restaurant. And it's in their house.
I sit on one of the arm chairs. I need a break to clear my head of paranoia and make sense of everything.
This dinner set-up seems far too elaborate for someone as inconsequential as me. I have to trust that at least Hudson is straightforward. After all, he helped me make the second bust. He mentioned that one of his own friends had been arrested. I have to believe he’s being straightforward.
Jo and Bear didn't come. That means it’s a different situation than it was even a couple of hours ago. So while things might be harrowing now, particularly with The General inside the house, surely I can trust everyone who helped me up until this dinner. Hudson, Colt, Jo, Parker. Everyone else I have to be wary around.
I go to the sink and wet one of the soft cotton cloths in the basket between the sinks. I press it to my neck to calm myself so that I’ll be ready to head back into the dining room.
I’ll be okay. What are these people going to do? Murder me? I don't believe that. Everyone talked about negotiation. I'm sure that's all I have to face tonight. Some words. Maybe angry words. Maybe threatening words. But still, just words.
I turn to leave the room. I've taken maybe two steps outside the door when a hand covers my mouth. I try to scream, but something wet and thick is stuffed into my mouth. I feel dizzy and sick, and my last thought before everything goes black is — Hudson!
Chapter 17: Hudson
I'm not especially comfortable that Chloe has taken off without me. I watch the eyes of everyone around me carefully. I don't think they did anything to her. She left of her own accord. But my senses are heightened. Something feels off.
No chairs are empty other than Chloe’s. The General was not seated with us. He’s in some other room.
I try to relax. Everyone is accounted for here. It should be okay. I take a few more bites, and when Colt continues to look longingly at my plate, Eve calls for a server to bring him a portion. He attacks this with much more enthusiasm.
