It dawned on me that Dad had said I would have a watcher making sure I was happy. Did my watcher see what was happening? Not possible. Besides which if I did have one he was a seriously crap watcher to take eight fucking years to do something. I have to admit killing me was genius. A divorce would never have happened if I had tried to run or tried to hide he would have made me pay and I would have to live with even worse consequences. My husband made that clear so many times “You are mine Ellia, you will never leave me unless you are dead you are mine” I get goose bumps remembering his words. I never noticed a watcher I used to look in the beginning wishing for someone anyone who I could beg to save me from my personal hell. This however smacks of dad. An accident, coming home, my real home. But now it seems it’s a prison I can’t escape. Even locked in like a prisoner I feel at home, safe and mostly relieved. Maybe I really am dead and this is heaven or hell maybe. I was never that good at the whole church and God thing. This could not have been Renzo, I am not in any pain, and no one has hurt me or tried to hurt me, yet? I bite back the rising panic I start to feel. I don’t want who ever took me to see my weakness, I focus on breathing in and out and the advantage I have at knowing exactly where I am.
It’s kind of hard to believe that God cares for you when your dad is a murderer. My Dad believed in God or so he led me to believe, until he died he dragged me to Mass every Sunday. When he died I stopped believing that God cared for people like me and then once I was married I decided if there even was a God he chose not to see me.
So I am technically DEAD. I am not sure if I am or not right now. I am LOCKED AWAY in my childhood home. And once again in my life I am all alone. Yet I have never felt so FREE.
I just want to know the who and the why of this so I can understand.
I wonder if I will stay here forever. I want to. I love it here, I always did, and this is home.
ROWAN
“Chaos is an angel who fell in love with a demon”
~Christopher Poindexter
I sit behind the stark white desk in my office and watch for a long time she seems so very calm. Almost happy to be honest and I am so very confused. This is not at all what I expected to happen. This is not how a prisoner acts. I have treated her like a prisoner. This woman is made of steel under that soft shell. She hasn’t cried or yelled or anything. I brought her back home, it’s my home now, the house is set far from the commercial buildings on the wine estate and I am rarely disturbed by visitors that I don’t bring here myself. The house belonged to Mick before he died I just remodelled the inside and made it my own space. It was designed for hiding in plain sight and suits all my needs perfectly.
The sun is setting and its soft glow sets the vineyards alight with colours you only see this time of day it looks almost unreal with the blur created in the orange light. As the late afternoon sun hangs in the air I can feel a cool crisp bite in the air coming in from my open window. I leave my office into the modern open plan kitchen I never really use to get some dinner. I decide to cook for myself. I know it sounds like a joke and if you actually knew me it is. I can’t cook, at all, but I don’t want to leave her here alone and no one delivers anything decent out here in the sticks.
I pour a scotch and try and master some scrambled eggs on toast. I am possibly the world’s worst cook I think most of the eggshell is still in the egg and I get frustrated just trying to master a simple meal. I am clumsy and awkward in the kitchen and I am pretty sure that simple scrambled eggs should not result in this amount of mess. I can kill a man and not leave a trace but I cannot cook my own food. I eat out a whole lot. The eggs pass my taste test, barely, I don’t gag on them but they are not great. I make a plate for Ellia too. I smile to myself. I have to feed her something I don’t want her to really die, but there is no way she will eat this shit, my runny eggs and slightly charred toast. She is chef, a damned good one at that! I’m an idiot. I really haven’t thought this shit out clearly. I was in such a weird headspace when I realized who my job was that I have broken a hundred rules by not only bringing her here but keeping her here. I am losing my shit and I blame the whiskey. I shake my head in an attempt to clear the brain fog as I walk down the passage to her room.
I want to go in there and talk to her. I really do. But I know that I failed her somehow or she would not be here now. I failed her father in the worst way ever. He gave me everything I have and I had one job, to keep her safe and I have screwed it up so bad. Now I’m a kidnapper. Add that to my long list of reasons I’m going to hell.
I stick the food through the cubby I cut in the door and retreat. I am not ready to face her yet. Tomorrow, I will go in there tomorrow. I am not usually a coward I face things head on, but something about having her here in my home has thrown my world off balance and I don’t quite know how to deal with it. For now avoidance is the route I am going.
After three days of starving herself she caved in and started eating my shit food, she was ravenous. I still haven’t had the guts to face her and waiting is just making it worse for when I eventually do. I know that but I am being such a baby about this. I have unexplained nerves about facing this woman, which is just stupid, she is just a woman. I am secretly enjoying watching her again. I spend hours in my office forcing my eyes to stay open so I can watch her every move. The only time I cannot see her is in the bathroom. I am not a total creep; I didn’t put cameras in there. There is something different in her eyes now than when I used to watch before. She is broken. I shouldn’t care why, I should just send her on her merry way I saved her life and now she is free. But I just cannot let her go; the crazy monster in me wants to keep her. I feel something for her, possessiveness, I want to fix what is broken because I feel that it is entirely my fault she is broken. I stopped watching her. I should just end this and let her go live somewhere and try to be happy again or maybe she was never happy. Fuck I don’t know it’s making my brain soft having a woman around so much.
It’s not that I don’t like women, I have had my share of them and I know what I want from them and what I can give them. It’s these things that usually keep my encounters with the opposite sex short lived and usually in the bedroom only. I like sex, no I love it but on my terms. No emotion, no feelings and absolutely no relationships of any kind. I normally pick up slutty girls in bars bang them in cars and leave them behind. I told you before I am a bad man. In fact I would normally be out doing just that after job had been completed, but here I am staring at Ellia on the monitor and cooking some craptastic meal to shove through her door.
God her father really would kill me. I cannot believe I am failing at my job so dismally I haven’t killed anyone since she arrived and I really should. I feel like an epic failure right now. Mick’s baby girl, his pride and joy is broken and it happened on my watch. I want to rewind eight years and just keep watching her, save her from whatever has happened to land her here with me.
I need to get out of here and talk to someone real I am driving myself crazy and drowning in scotch to numb whatever this is and it won’t work forever. It’s been ten days and I need a plan now. I need to talk to my friend. I leave my half eaten soggy eggs on the counter. I go to room and change into some slightly more presentable clothes than the ones I was lounging about my office in. Jeans and a black sweater will do for now.
I need to make trip into the mother fucking mother city and talk to Callum.
Cal is my best friend we moved over here together, both being children of the criminal underworld sent to Africa to run the business we are all each other have. He might just be able to fix this shit storm I have created. Or at least talk some sense into my head. I do know he is going to want to beat the shit out of me for it too.
I dial Cal’s number and fumble my key into the ignition of my Range Rover at the same time. The garage doors roll open behind me as I put my car in reverse.
“Ro” he picks up on the second ring
“Shit that wa
s fast Cal, how are you bud? Are you working? I’m on my way into Cape Town now and I could use your help on a work issue.” I say work issue but this is so personal it has gone past work long ago.
“You need an overdose for one of the lucky holiday victims again do you?” Callum’s smug voice irritates me today; my fuse is shorter than normal.
I chuckle out loud. If only it was something so simple. For the first time in my life I have no clue what to do in a situation, it’s making me act like a crazy person.
“No Cal, this is something way different. Besides we have determined that that method leaves to many lose ends.”
We once had an “overdose” victim who woke up and walked away once, leaving me to find a more effective accident to deal with them.
“Ha, cool man I am working now but I can meet you in Tableview for a drink later on?”
Cal is a drug lord; well here he is the local drug king. He runs his father’s little empire right under the noses of the world here; we are both hiding in plain sight and have been for years. It has actually gotten easier for us criminal types over the years. I help Cal with a few accidents every now and then his jobs always pay top dollar.
“Let’s say Doodles at around six? I’m still an hour’s drive away I’m only pulling out the estate now?”
“See you there Ro, I have to um go, I’m in the middle of something here.”
That was code for I’m kicking the shit out of one of my dealers for some crap he pulled that won’t fly with me. I loved Cal. He was the brother I never had. He was going to shit himself over this mess. Fuck.
I head into the city which is an hour’s drive from Franschoek valley. I love this city so much but the estate just proved better for business so I kept it, it also reminded me of Mick he left a hole in my life when he died. I come into the city whenever I get a chance to visit Cal.
I take the long route not wanting to wait for Cal. I pass over Chapman’s peak the steep windy roads taking me through Hout Bay and over Suikerbossie to the picturesque coast that takes me to the city. Once through the city centre and on the other side of the bay I see the view of Table Mountain towering above the bustling city. It really is something to look at its late afternoon and it has a table cloth of cloud over the top of it, usually a warning that tomorrow’s weather will be positively shit. The sun has almost disappeared below the horizon over Table Bay and the boat lights can be seen on the tankers and trawlers waiting at sea to come into dock. As I enter Tableview I see the hundreds of kite surfers in the bay making the most of the God awful wind that has been blowing here for the last week. Their colourful kites moving through the air at break neck speed, literally, these guys break bones all the time the water is like concrete if you hit it fast enough. We don’t get the wind in the valley and I don’t mind that at all. It is much more peaceful in Franschoek than here in the city, no bars and clubs it’s a small quaint place I like the quite it provides.
I drive myself down the beach front at park at Doodles, a somewhat iconic little bar/diner on the beach front. It’s been here for years and while many others have come and gone it has remained. I get a table outside on the deck and order a scotch from the over flirtatious waitress. I don’t look my forty two years of age and I am often accosted by these young girls whose panties would land me in jail if I got into them. Oh wait this stupid god forsaken dumb ass country made the consensual age for sex thirteen since their incompetent cops and courts couldn’t keep up with the thousands of rapes every day. One every four minutes. I may be murderer but rape is a crime that really irks me. Sex is something that should never be a weapon ever. I was raised to respect women, even those I have had to kill. Yes I know pot, kettle whatever.
Cal is late, as always he has converted to African time. Here no one has any idea of punctuality they arrive whenever they want. It irritates me even after all these years I can still tell the time and read a watch for fucks sake. I sit on the deck at Doodles and wait impatiently for my friend, the waitress delivers the drinks I ordered and I sip my whiskey watching the people walking on the beachfront, some with their kids or dogs all of them oblivious to the monster sitting here watching. I blend in perfectly to this place I watch their world pass me by, my world is a much darker one.
I see Cal’s over flashy Mercedes drive up and park in front of Doodles. He looks the same every day, Black suit always a three piece suit and his long blonde hair is a train wreck from the wind. He won’t cut it, his last act of rebellion against his Pops. I personally could not wear a suit every day; I like to just be able to be comfortably smart. I guess in the world of designer drugs he has to look the part. Cal is typically Irish in his looks he has fair skin, fair hair and evil green eyes that scare me on some days.
“Ro” he greets me loudly slapping me on the back of my shoulder.
“I got you a scotch, you’re late,” I snap at him, his casual attitude to time irritates me and he knows it. I have nearly finished my drink already.
“Sorry bud but my customers are alive and I actually have to see them he digs. So what’s got your knickers in bunch bad?” His reply drips with sarcasm.
I take a deep breath as I contemplate where to start telling this story.
“Well…. You remember my stalking project years back? It has come to bite me in the ass in the worst fucking way.”
“Aaah the dead boss man’s very sexy daughter who was so fucking pretty to look at. What gives? Did she recognise you? Report you? I thought you don’t watch her anymore? We can fix it I have a guy in the department up there.” He says with a glint of lust in his man whoring eyes he is talking so fast I know that he has been on a sugar binge all day. He is worse than a kid with ADHD when he has sugar.
“Cal, this is serious and don’t say that about her or him man, he was my father after my Pops died…. I was hired to cause a little accident for her.”
His face drops and I can see instantly his brain is going into overdrive. I have sweaty palms just thinking about telling him this. Tap the rim of my almost empty glass
“The fuck man. You can’t take that job, who hired you, give their money back and walk away this is a bad situation.”
He swallows the rest of his scotch in one gulp and flags the little flirty one over. When I don’t answer he just keeps rambling on at me.
“Is this a joke bud? It’s not a funny one?”
Flirty pants is at the table in a flash. Cal lifts his glass to her.
“Just bring us the bottle and some ice baby girl.”
She runs off to fetch the overpriced bottle of scotch at the bar inside. Callum has his eyes planted on her ass as she does, typical Callum. Shake my head staring at the table not knowing where to look right now.
“No joke bud, it was her husband he found out she had money and that she had hidden it from him, fucker, and wanted her gone so he could get it.”
“YOU KILLED HER!” he shout whispers back at me, horrified.
“Oh fuck no man! Shit let me tell you everything then you talk Okay.”
“OK,” I can see the panic in his eyes he staring at me and tapping a finger on the edge of his glass. His brain is working as fast as mine trying to process this shit storm.
Flirty waitress girl is back she dumps the scotch and asks if we want food but Cal rudely dismisses her with a grunt.
“I opened the job file and had an instant heart attack, I left her happily married bud I swear, I realized I couldn’t kill her but if I declined he would hire someone else, so I brought her here and very carefully arranged her accident, so yes Ellia is dead but Lauri is very much still alive and here locked in a room at my estate.” I am holding my glass so tight it may break in my grip. I put it down fist my hands under the table. I look at a spot on the dirty floor by my feet as I try getting the story out without my friend beating me in public, which is exactly what his face tells me when I do look up.
He
is drinking from the scotch bottle now and I can see that this is going to be difficult to explain to him because I would never do something so stupid, only I did.
“Are. You. Fucking. Nuts. You stupid. Fuck!” He spits the words out slow so I can hear them crystal clear. I must seem nuts to him, he keeps his business very, very clean and would never ever keep a girl he kidnapped at home. The vein in his neck that only shows itself when he is about to beat someone is popping out and I can see his pulse in it. He is holding onto the Johnny Walker bottle for dear life. He shakes his head as if he doesn’t quite know what to do or say to me right now. He is disappointed and confused and pissed as all hell.
“You kidnapped her?”
He runs his hand through his wild hair and looks at me waiting for a good answer I suspect. When I don’t answer he carries on.
“Mick loved you like a son man and if he was alive he would skin you right now. Watchers don’t go NEAR their targets man you are stupid as shit!” He swallows more whiskey in an attempt to dampen the rage I can see boiling to the surface. “But I do get it sort of. Why is she locked up the estate though bud? Get her a new ID and send her packing on her merry way.” He leans back in his chair shaking his head at my stupidity, I know that Cal would never have done something as careless as this and he is judging me. His eyes say he is judging me very harshly right now. He still wants to hit me, the tightly clenched fists resting on the table let me know I am not off the hook with him yet. “What did she say?” He says exasperated now.
Colour My Ugly Page 3
