KNOCKED UP BY THE HITMAN

by Nicole Fox

I had a few hours to kill, so I took a little tour of the house. It was much bigger than the place in New York—almost too much space for two people. I’d gotten so used to the tight quarters of just about every New York apartment that I’d forgotten what it was like to be in a house where spreading out on a big piece of land wasn’t an issue. The house had four bedrooms, plenty of bathrooms, and even a basement. And as I strolled around the place, I couldn’t help but think about how to put all the space to use.

  Be a nice house for a family , I thought, the words appearing in my mind out of nowhere.

  I caught myself; what the hell was I doing thinking about a family? With who, Russell?

  But though the idea seemed ridiculous at first, the more I considered it, the nicer it sounded.

  Easy, girl, I thought to myself. He seems like a good guy, but maybe give it more than a couple of months before you start thinking about having his babies.

  Finishing my stroll through the house, I made my way to the bright, sunny kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine, and decided to relax on the back patio before my afternoon with the other women. Basking in the warm late morning sun, the time slipped by. Before I knew it, the time to leave had nearly arrived. I finished my drink, threw on a fresh set of clothes, and grabbed the set of car keys that Russell had laid out for me. I entered the garage and saw that the car I’d be driving was a sporty, dark blue convertible, not too different than what Russell was driving. After a nice long drive through the city, I arrived at the lunch spot where I was to meet the girls.

  Here goes nothing, I thought, and headed in.

  The restaurant was a chic place with contemporary décor and a staff of young men and women who looked like they all moonlighted as models. Knowing what I knew about LA, they probably did. I found the girls towards the back of the restaurant, gathered around a table on the patio in a lovely spot that overlooked Rodeo Drive. The three women were all stunningly gorgeous, extremely well-dressed, and carried themselves with poise and sophistication. I felt out of place right from the start.

  As I approached the table, their eyes all snapped onto me.

  “Hi,” I said in a meek voice. “I’m Alyssa. Um, Alyssa Culverton.”

  They shared a quizzical expression.

  “I’m sorry,” said one, a gorgeous blonde. “Who?”

  “I’m Russell Carrick’s, um, partner.”

  I had no idea what other word to use. Were we a couple? Just business associates? Something more?

  Their eyes all lit up with the same look of happy realization.

  “Ah,” said a slender brunette with striking features and a very low-cut top. “Russell’s girl! Sit, sit; we’ve heard so much about him.”

  I slid timidly into the free seat and took off my purse.

  “Welcome to Los Angeles,” said the third woman, another blonde, this one with a pixie cut and sharp, elf-like features. “How’re you liking the city so far?”

  “Well, I just got in a few hours ago, but so far it’s amazing,” I said. “If only for the weather.”

  “Oh, right,” said the brunette. “The weather. You know when you live here as long as we have, you kind of forget about it.”

  “Right,” said the short-haired blonde. “You forget that people actually have to deal with awful things like snow.”

  The three girls shared a little laugh that I was late to join in on.

  “Anyway,” said the first blonde. “I’m Annie, that’s Martina, and that’s Emma.”

  She gestured to the brunette then the blonde.

  “Nice to meet you all,” I said, my eyes drifting to the bottle of white in the middle of the table.

  “Don’t be shy,” said Emma. “Pour yourself a glass; that’s what it’s there for.”

  Right on cue, a waiter appeared and placed an empty white wine glass in front of me. I filled it and took a sip, ready for the alcohol to do its work on my nerves.

  “So,” said Martina, the brunette. “You’re with Russell …”

  The name seemed to linger on her lips and a dreamy expression formed on her face, an expression that was soon shared by the other two women.

  “Yep,” I said, not sure of how else to respond.

  The girls all shared another knowing look.

  “Is there, um, something that I’m missing?” I asked.

  “Oh, no,” said Martina. “It’s just that your Mr. Carrick has been the talk of the, ah, industry for quite some time.”

  “Right,” said Annie. “He’s been making quite a name for himself in New York. So much, in fact, that his reputation has made its way all the way over here.”

  “A good reputation, I hope,” I said, preparing to take another sip of my wine.

  “Absolutely,” said Annie. “He’s been quite the up-and-comer, and we’ve all been waiting to see just what the fuss is about.”

  “Well,” said Martina, a sly grin forming on her face. “We’ve already seen …”

  “Martina!” said Annie, giving her friend a playful slap on the leg.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, curious.

  “We’ve seen pictures of Russell,” said Emma. “And let’s just say that you might want to keep a close eye on him around LA.”

  “Emma,” said Annie. “Alyssa just got here a few hours ago; I think you can wait a while before letting her know you’ve got you sights on her man.”

  “I’m just joking around, of course,” said Emma. “Well, about the ‘stealing him away’ part.”

  “Mhmm,” said Martina. “That is one gorgeous man you’ve got there.”

  “Well, to be honest, I don’t know if I’ve even really got him,” I said, accidentally letting my concerns about ’my relationship with Russell slip out.

  “Tell me about it,” said Emma. “I’ve been with my man for a year and I’m still wondering if we’re actually a couple or not.”

  Annie turned to me.

  “That’s kind of how things go for us,” she said. “We all start out as pretty faces for our men to show off to the other men in the, um, business, and it’s a long climb up to become something more than that.”

  My eyes flicked onto the large, beautiful ring on her finger.

  “You seem like you’ve managed to pull it off,” I said.

  “I have,” said Annie, “but it took every bit of wrangling I had in me to get Carlos to put a ring on it.”

  “That’s right,” said Martina. “The types of men drawn to this industry are usually the types who don’t really have a wife and kids in the long-term plans. They’re all drawn to the power and the money.”

  “Not that we’re any different,” said Emma.

  The other two girls conceded the point. I couldn’t help but feel a little crestfallen by this. Was Russell really just planning on keeping me around for show and sex? He had made it very, very clear that I was his property. What was going to happen when he decided that he was bored with me?

  “You look worried,” said Annie. “Have another glass of wine, and don’t concern yourself too much with the future.”

  “Trust us,” said Emma. “You’re going to fare much better in this world than most of the girls who come here trying to make it big as an actress. You get involved in that shit and you’ve got about ten years of getting passed from producer to producer until you get replaced by some girl from the new crop of big-breasted idiots fresh off the bus from the Midwest.”

  “We have money, power, and everything else,” said Martina. “And our men take care of us.”

  Between this and what Russell had said to me earlier in the day, I felt a lot better.

  The lunch went on, and once I loosened up I actually started to have a bit of fun with the girls. They struck me as the LA type—into fashion, gossip, and all the rest—but they went out of their way to be accommodating towards me, which I really appreciated. And once we were done with our boozy lunch, we headed out onto the town to do some shopping. During our time out, I connected more and more with the girls, learning so
me of the ins and outs of being a “companion” to the men in the particular industry we were in.

  “Remember that you’re dealing with some major egos,” said Annie. “These are the guys who think they’re above the whole nine-to-five thing, and have the bank accounts to prove just how unlike the average schmuck they are.”

  “For sure,” said Emma as we strolled down Rodeo Drive, bags of clothes hanging off our arms. “Have you had the opportunity to go to any of the parties in the city?”

  The question was addressed to me.

  “No,” I said. “Just got here.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Emma.

  “But I went to a party in New York. It was incredible.”

  “I can only imagine,” said Martina. “Probably in some penthouse overlooking the city, right?”

  I chuckled a little. “Exactly right.”

  “Well,” said Martina, “don’t you worry—you’ll get the chance to experience the LA scene. For good and for bad.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked, deciding to pry for a little info. “And what should I expect?”

  “All the money of New York, but without the sophistication,” said Emma. “People here like to wear their cash on their sleeves, and the girls aren’t shy about making it clear just what they’re looking for.”

  “That,” said Martina, “and fake tits as far as the eye can see.”

  “Please,” said Emma, laughing, “those things bolted on your chest are as fake as they come, lady.”

  Martina gave her ample, ample cleavage a squeeze.

  “Not like I had to pay for ’em,” she said with a smirk.

  “But seriously,” said Annie, “you’ll be fine. I’m guessing if a guy like Russell’s bringing you along with him to LA then he probably isn’t too worried about how well you’ll do at these little soirees.”

  “Good,” I said. “Part of me’s worried that I’ll get eaten alive by the LA scene.”

  “If you can survive New York, then you can survive here,” said Emma. “Just as long as you keep in mind that the bigger the smile someone has, the less you should trust them.”

  We did a little more shopping, and by the middle of the afternoon, the girls and I were ready to call it quits. After some hugs, we were all off, and I left feeling actually pretty good about the whole afternoon. The girls were all eager to help me get acclimated, and I chalked it up to the camaraderie we all shared by being in the same business—in a matter of speaking.

  When I arrived back home Russell was nowhere to be found. Not sure what to do with myself, I wandered around the place for a bit, taking in the view of the beach and relaxing after my busy day of shopping. After a time, my appetite started to pick up again and I headed to the kitchen to rummage through what was there. Surprisingly, the fridge and pantry were fully stocked. In the freezer I found a pack of steaks and looking them over, a thought occurred to me: why not make dinner for Russell?

  I took the steaks out and started the process of thawing them. While they were getting ready, I found a few more odds and ends that looked like they’d make good sides. Over the course of the next hour or two, I prepared dinner, and as I made the food, a warm feeling ran through me. I wasn’t the best cook in the world, but knowing I was doing something nice for Russell, who was likely in the middle of a hard day at work, provided me with a sense of satisfaction.

  Around seven, I heard the front door open, followed by the sound of Russell’s heavy boots on the solid floor. By now, the steaks were on the stove and the sides were just about done.

  “Dinner?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen and taking a long sniff of the delicious scent that was now wafting through the air.

  “Dinner,” I confirmed. “I figured you’d be in the mood for something homecooked when you were back.”

  “You figured right,” he said. “Today was a killer.”

  “Anything interesting?” I asked.

  “Nope,” he said. “Not unless you consider going from warehouse to warehouse checking out inventory interesting.”

  It was strange; Russell was back after a long day at his very unconventional job, and here I was ready to serve him dinner like a dutiful wife serving her man after a day working at a bank or something. Knowing how Russell earned his money was a detail that I was still having trouble with.

  “Mind setting the table?” I asked. “Food’s just about ready.”

  “Sure,” he said.

  I finished up the meal and Russell set the table. Once everything was ready, he put on some mellow jazz and dimmed the lights, the dark blue of the ocean beautiful outside of our windows. I took my seat, and Russell poured a glass of wine for the both of us.

  “We should absolutely toasts to something,” he said, his hand on the base of his wine glass.

  “I think you’re right,” I said, lifting my glass.

  After a moment of thinking, I spoke.

  “To all this,” I said, gesturing to everything around me.

  “And to much more,” said Russell.

  The table was too long to touch our glasses, so we both raised our wine a bit more in the air before setting into our food.

  “This is … really good,” said Russell, not wasting any time starting on his steak.

  “Really?” I asked, pleased. “It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked anything. My last … living situation was more of a takeout-every-night kind of affair.”

  “In that case, you were really letting some talent go to waste. Meat’s perfectly cooked.”

  I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I’m just finding out all sorts of things about you,” said Russell, washing down his steak with a sip of wine. “I can’t help but wonder about the next thing you’ll show a talent for.”

  My face reddened. He was right, in a sense—being with Russell was giving me the opportunity to learn more about myself in a way that I hadn’t before. Who would’ve guessed that I could charm a party full of international arms dealers and then make a delicious steak?

  We ate in silence for a time.

  “Good day with the girls?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said truthfully. “I was a little nervous at first; loaded LA socialites aren’t really the type of people who I normally spend time with. But they went out of their way to make me feel welcome.”

  “You sound surprised,” said Russell.

  “Maybe I am,” I said. “I guess I was expecting them to be a little …”

  “Cattier?” finished Russell.

  I hated to admit it, but he was right.

  “That’s the word,” I said.

  “You’ll find that this little business we’re in is pretty tight-knit. If you’ve gotten up to this level in the game then you’ve dealt with enough criminal scum to last you a lifetime. It’s like we’ve all fought the same war together. And the women are the same; once you’ve gotten immersed in this world, you realize that you and the other women in your same situation need to stick together.”

  “Are those women, um, also someone’s property?”

  I realized as soon as the last word left my mouth that I’d had less trouble saying it than before. It was almost comforting, as strange as that might sound.

  A sly little smile formed on Russell’s lips.

  “It depends. Some are girls who just got caught up in the scene; some are girls who just want men with money and power and don’t care how they got it; and, yes, some are like you. Property of a man in the business.”

  It was strange to be talking about this so casually. But that was the life that I now lived.

  His words hung in the air for a time as we ate and drank, the music drifting softly around us.

  “We’ve got another party coming up,” he said. “One of the big players in the scene just bought a new beachside estate and wants to show it off to everyone he can.”

  “Then that means you’ll need my, um, hostess skills again?”

  “I’m going to need them more and more as time goes on,
” he said. “If these deals here in the city go off the way I hope they will, then we’re going to be spending a lot of time here. And that’s on top of our New York obligations.”

  I had a flash of the life that I was going to be leading, that of a cross-country international arms dealing hostess. It was all too strange to consider.

  “But you’ll be fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything. I’m taking care of all the dirty work and bringing in the money. All you need to do is keep making nice with the girls and doing what you do so well at those parties of ours. It’s all a run-up to the big event, you know.”