The Spindle's Curse: A modern mm romance inspired by Sleeping Beauty (Ever After Book 1)

by TL Gehr

  Maxine stands framed in the doorway and here I am, the alleged thief, elbow deep in The Spindle’s safe.

  43

  Brian

  We stand in startled silence.

  “Find what you were looking for?” Maxine is the first to speak.

  There’s nothing for it. I have to tell her the truth. “I know you won’t believe me, but Philip really did send me to get this.”

  She folds her arms, blocking the door as if I might try to bolt for it. “He did, did he? The man who could swipe his credit card for a small island sent you to rob his own restaurant?”

  “He’s been kidnapped.”

  Maybe the distress in my voice is genuine enough that it gives her pause, or maybe Philip skipping work is weird enough that she’s already halfway to believing something terrible has happened, because she doesn’t accuse me of lying. “Back up. He what?”

  It all comes flooding out. Everything from the way Mom only started working here after Philip bought the place, to her connection with the Dragons. As I tell the story in order it becomes clearer and clearer to me that this was premeditated. Did she already intend to kidnap and ransom Philip when she suggested I start working here? Or did they have other plans for him and I got in the way? I want to believe they did this because they were desperate for drug money, but the way Mom sounded on the phone, so calm and self-assured, it feels bigger. The weight of it lands heavy on my shoulders and tears spill from my eyes again.

  Stop crying, Philip needs you to be strong. You have to rescue him.

  “She said she’ll call me at five. I need to have two million by then. I won’t. There’s no way I will. But if I have something, maybe…” I wipe my eyes with my sleeve.

  Maxine comes into the room and reaches into the safe. “You better not be shitting me,” she says, as she helps me load up the bag.

  Before I leave, she pulls me over to the cash register and hands me several other wads of cash. “You sure his family won’t change their minds?”

  “They can’t. They believe paying will just make them ask for more and inspire further kidnappings. And the negotiator thinks that any rescue or escape attempt will just put him in more danger. It has to be me.”

  “I kinda wish you were lying at this stage. I’d like to see Philip marching in here demanding to know where all this cash went.”

  My lip wobbles, so I bite down on it.

  “Hey,” Maxine says, leaning over the bar to me. “Do you want me to come with you? I could.”

  Yes, yes I do.

  You can’t do this alone, he said.

  But I have to. If I drag anyone else into this, I could put him in even more danger. “She’s expecting me alone.” I zip up the bag. “Hey, Max?”

  It’s that feeling I had so often in school, like I was completely incapable of things that were basic for other people. Like I’m stupid. Then I’d try to hide it, but now there are more important things at stake than my ego. “Um, how much money do you think I have here?”

  She eyes the bag, doing calculations in her head that I could never manage. “Probably about 30k, a little more. Long way from two mil. Isn’t there anyone else who could help sweeten the deal? Philip has rich friends, doesn’t he?”

  I immediately think of Jones, who would help in a heartbeat, and I know that Tabitha, Gunther and Triston probably would too, but it’s already after four. I’d need to both find them and convince them. “I don’t know how to contact them.”

  “What about that nice old lady who called here before? That day you were late? Your neighbor, you said?”

  My stomach sinks. “Cynthia. I can’t ask her.”

  “Why not? She clearly cares about you.”

  “Because she’s old! She’s a pensioner. She’s probably struggling to scrape together enough for cat food.”

  “And Philip can pay her back, with interest, when he’s free. I’m just saying, there’s no harm in asking.”

  I take out my phone and navigate to the number she entered just this morning.

  “Brian, darling!” she sounds so happy to hear from me. “You home all safe and sound?”

  “Cynthia, something horrible has happened…”

  I get to my old apartment block at 16:45.

  Cynthia gives me a huge hug, then she ushers me inside and makes tea. The theater kid, Elam, is already sitting at her table, all wide-eyed. She must have briefed him on the situation.

  I hate bringing her into this, I hate asking her for anything. I hover at the door, feeling shredded and fragile.

  “Well come on in. The money’s on the bed.”

  I look past her to the bedroom and all I can see is a corner of her red quilted bedspread and piles and piles of cash. It seems Cynthia is one of those old folk you always hear about who keep their money under their mattresses. The afternoon light slanting through her windows makes the scene feel even more surreal. Maybe this is all a nightmare after all, maybe I’ll wake up back in Philip’s arms. If I do, I’ll never ever leave them again.

  Murdock jolts me from my reverie by pouncing on my feet and biting my ankle.

  We count out the cash. I have just over 50k, more money than I’ve ever had in my life, and it’s a mere fraction of what Mom asked for.

  “I can’t take this.” If I fail, she’ll never get it back

  “Yes, you can. Philip saved your life and now it’s your turn to save his. It’s all really quite romantic, isn’t it?” she asks Elam. Without waiting for a response, she adds, “At any rate, you’re going to marry a billionaire so you’ll be able to pay me back.”

  A short while ago, marrying Philip was my wildest fantasy. Now I just want to see him safe. I sink into one of her chairs. The tea is getting cold, time is moving too fast.

  My phone rings and I jump. Both Cynthia and Elam tense.

  I struggle to find my voice as I answer. “Hello?”

  It’s not my mother, but my father. “Hey, you miss your train?”

  Shit, I completely forgot to let him know I wasn’t on my way. I’ve let him down again. He doesn’t even sound annoyed, because he’s so used to it.

  “Dad…” I’m acutely aware of the two staring at me. I cut straight to the chase. “Mom’s kidnapped Philip. They’re trying to ransom him but his parents won’t pay. She wants me to pay. I’m trying to get money but—”

  “—They?” Dad asks, as if that’s the most important thing.

  “I think she’s with this gang. It’s so messed up. They’re called the—”

  “Brian, listen very carefully to me. You cannot get involved in this.”

  My veins flush ice. I thought I was done with surprises for the day. I feel like I’ve had enough shocks in the last twelve hours to last me another twelve years. But apparently the universe isn’t done with me.

  “What do you mean I can’t get involved?” My voice cracks. “I am involved, Dad. She has the man I love.”

  “The people who your mother associates with, if they are the people I believe them to be, are incredibly dangerous. I know how you feel about this man, but you have to leave this to the professionals. Please, son.”

  “You knew about this?”

  “Do you think I would have encouraged you to go meet with her if I thought she was still involved in all of that? From her letters it seemed—”

  “Letters?” I sound thoroughly broken already even to my own ears and I haven’t even done the hard part yet.

  Dad sighs. “Yes.” There’s a long pause, then, “Did you never wonder how she managed to get hold of your address, Brian? She contacted me first.”

  Dad vetted her. He’d already decided I should meet with her before I ever called him for his opinion. I don’t even know what to say.

  When I don’t respond, he continues, “Your mother was involved with some dangerous people when we met. I knew about her past, and I chose to see beyond it. She agreed to leave them, to leave that life, to raise a family with me. Even when I learned about the drugs, I never tho
ught she would have gone back to them.”

  “They call themselves the Dragon Riders,” I say, hoping it’s not the group he means.

  “That may be the name of the local cell. I knew them as the Thorns.”

  My heart skitters as I remember the tattoo. “They’re a biker gang, right?”

  “A cartel, Brian.” I can imagine him hanging his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please, I know you want to help Philip but you’re no match for them. Please, Brian, son, I’m begging you, do not get involved in this.”

  “I told you, Dad, I’m already involved.”

  “Brian—”

  “No, I’m sorry, if some drug cartel has Philip, do you honestly think I can just sit here waiting while his parents gamble with his life? I’ve been a selfish coward my whole life. I’ve run from school, from my disorder, from my responsibilities, even from you. But this situation isn’t about me or my safety, it’s about at least making an attempt to save the best man I’ve ever met. Even if I am hopelessly out of my depth, I need to try.”

  “Brian—”

  “We can talk when it’s all over.” And I end the call.

  I start shaking again like I did at Philip’s place. Cynthia presses the cold tea into my hand. We sit in silence while we wait for the phone to ring again.

  44

  Brian

  The first call comes a few minutes after Dad’s. I don’t actually know if it’s Mom because it’s that computerized voice and it tells me to go across the Williamsburg Bridge, immediately. I grab my backpack and dash out, nearly knocking over some suited dude on the stairs in my rush.

  I’m nearly across the bridge in the evening traffic when I get another call. “Take the Roebling Street exit.”

  And so it goes, one direction at a time, driving and driving. First west, then east. South, then north. I figure they’re trying to make sure I don’t have time to call anyone to come after me.

  Now I’m crawling along a deserted road. My back is wet with nervous sweat. I don’t see a green light. The street is graffitied walls, a hollowed-out bus, piles of tires, litter and smashed-in windows.

  The phone rings again. This time, it’s Mom’s voice. “Turn left, kid. Welcome home.”

  The sidewalk to my left is lined with a tall chicken wire fence, but as she says those words I reach an open gate. I turn and swallow to try lubricate my dry throat.

  It’s dark now but for a strip of red near the horizon that makes looming silhouettes of the surrounding buildings. Tangles of razor wire unspool along the dirt road illuminated by my headlights, bringing to mind that thorny tattoo. Shadows shift to either side of the car. I’m not alone here. There’s noise up ahead and when I pass a low, dark building, a fire pit throws bikes and bikers into relief, but none of them pay me any mind. I roll on past and then I see it. A concrete square of a building, spilling green light out into the night. I slip my phone into the broken lining of my bag as I park.

  My legs tremble when I climb from the front seat. No sooner have my feet hit the gravel then I’m blinded by white. I throw my hand over my eyes. Another car, facing me, has put on its headlights. I hug my backpack to my chest. Backlit by the bright onslaught, so I have to squint to see her, is my mother.

  I feel more than see the presence of others just outside the light, like demons she commands. Commands, yes, because she’s not just associated with this gang, she’s not just a member of this cartel. Nothing about the way she’s standing says underling.

  “Well would you look at that,” she says, as if she’s surprised I’m actually here.

  “Where’s Philip?”

  “Hasty, aren’t we? Hand over the goods.”

  I hold the bag tighter. “Not until you release Philip.”

  She comes closer, swinging her hips like a cat that’s caught its prey. “You’ve got some balls on you, don’t you? Good, I like that. You had me worried for a while there, kid. Wasn’t sure you had what it takes.”

  She pulls the bag from my hands.

  “It’s the most I could get,” I say. “You can have it and the car too. Please just let Philip go. His parents won’t pay. They have some guy there telling them not to. This is all you’re going to get.”

  She calls out to one of the shadows to check the car for tracking devices. Then she looks back at me. “I knew you could be useful, but I didn’t imagine you’d be quite this useful.”

  “Useful?” The word is bitter on my tongue. I’m intently aware of the shapes moving behind me, large men in biker gear.

  “You think I got you that job out of the kindness of my heart?” She shrugs. “Well, I suppose there was a little kindness. It gave us a chance to consider you. I’ll be honest, kid, the votes were 50/50.” She makes a seesawing motion with her free hand. “You’re a bit of a mess, aren’t you? Your dad was always the smothering type, but we’ll sort that out.”

  “What are you talking about?” Is she completely insane?

  “I’m talking about your future, kid. It’s brighter than you could imagine. You’re heir to an empire, a prince in waiting.”

  I’m starting to catch up with everything she’s saying. “This was a test? This whole thing was a test?”

  “This whole thing? No, not the whole thing. Got you the gig at The Spindle, as I said, to check you out. Didn’t bet on you checking out the boss man. Now that… that was a stroke of luck and it was all on you. You figuring out I’m the one who had him? That was also you, kid. Didn’t expect that. Can’t say I’m disappointed. Brains and balls, I like the combo. No, this is the test right here. And you know what? I wouldn’t even call it a test. I’d call it a crossroads.”

  She can’t possibly know what that word means to me. My memory flashes with Philip’s shy smile as he leads me over to the benches shaped like a railway crossing. “I wanted to ask if you’d be interested in pursuing a relationship?”

  “Where’s Philip?”

  “Here’s your choice, kid. I’ll put it to you plain. Setting you up to take the fall for that little cash register heist was only one little domino in a game I call insurance. You think you look bad now? Well, wait until the Arrigos find out you’re the one who stole their darling boy away, among other things.”

  “But I didn’t.” No shit. She knows that.

  “Do you have evidence to prove that? Because I have evidence to the contrary. I have evidence of so many things. And notice, my dearest boy, how I haven’t asked you how much cash you brought me today. You think this is about finances? Not that I’d complain about a cool two mil, but it was never about that. Do you know what Philip Hubert did before he married money?”

  It takes me a moment to realize she means Philip’s dad. “He was a businessman.”

  “That’s what he likes people to think, because when he was with the FBI he worked undercover and he knows that if the folks he betrayed ever discovered his true identity… well, there’d be a reckoning.”

  I can do nothing but stare at her. Ex-FBI. That’s how he managed to get such detailed files on me. I try to reconcile the stuffy hot-tempered man with what I imagine an undercover agent to be and it’s not as difficult as I would have thought. He’s really strong and he certainly knows how to do an interrogation. Maybe that’s why he was so determined to believe I had something to do with this? He wanted to believe it was just an opportunistic kidnapping by a con artist rather than his deepest, darkest fear come to life. I see his crying face and with it comes a realization that turns my stomach to lead.

  “You’re going to hurt Philip to get to him.” My knees wobble again. “You’ve already hurt him. Is he still… please tell me he’s still…”

  “Alive? For now.”

  “For now? You can’t mean to—Philip’s done nothing wrong, he’s not a part of this. Please, please don’t do this.”

  She takes my chin roughly in her hand. She said I had balls, but right now that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m so frightened I might wet myself.

 
“Easy, sweet cakes, I said you had a choice, remember?”

  I nod.

  “So, as I was saying, there are two ways this can play out. We can go with the original plan—sometime in the next few days, after many, many, back and forth calls about the money, Mister Hubert is going to arrive at a designated location with whatever amount we’ve agreed upon to exchange for his son. His son will be waiting patiently, with a thoughtful note tacked to what remains of his chest.”

  I whimper despite myself.

  “Don’t worry, there will still be enough of him left that he’ll know without a doubt that it’s his son.”

  “You said there was another option?” I can hardly breathe. My bowels are water.

  “Your father has denied you your crown, my prince. You ever wonder if you had any other family beside me and him? You ever ask?”

  I did ask. “He said I didn’t.”

  She pulls back her sleeve to show me the tattoo. “Our family arrived on these shores in the 1800s and we built an empire that spans continents.”

  “A drug empire.”

  “An empire of power. You, my boy, are the sole heir to the Aurora family.”

  My heart that’s already beating at a mile a minute trips over. I’ve heard of the Aurora family, they’re notorious. During the prohibition era, they ruled half of New York.

  “One day when I and your uncle Billy pop it, all this could be yours.” She waves generally as if there’s anything but darkness around us. “You’d be untouchable. All the drugs and money you desire. You can find yourself a million little rich boys to warm your bed.”

  My mother is a mob queen and this, here, is my coronation. Or… something. I passed some test, somehow, and now she wants me to join up.

  “And in the meantime, I do crime for you? Is that how it works?”

  “‘Crime’, he says, as if it’s a new concept. I can promise it pays better than petty theft and bartending or whatever it was you were supposed to be doing at that highfalutin excuse for a pub.”