by SR Jones
When I escaped the Brit’s house, I called my parents from a burner phone I bought from a news kiosk. I asked them to wire me some money to a branch of the bank they use, one out in Piraeus. They did, and I went to the port area the next day, withdrew the cash, and stashed it about my person and in my bag. I got on a ferry and headed to Kos and then Crete. I spent a few weeks in Chania, gorgeous place, but the money my parents gave me won’t last forever. It’s why I headed south to the party resorts to look for summer work.
Luckily for me, even this early in the season there are a few tourists, and hence some bars open all ready to cater for them.
I call Mom and Dad now and again, from the burner. I don’t talk for long, and I don’t tell them where I am. Each time Mom cries and cries, and I feel so guilty for putting them through this, but I’ve explained to them that me coming home would be unsafe for all concerned.
Long term, I need a plan. I’m thinking of going to America. I have an aunt there, and I could go to school there. But not to study law or medicine. I can’t deal with working in those environments. After what I’ve gone through, I am going to live my life for me. It’s sad it took such a shocking event to fully free me of the shackles of the need to please. To please my parents, even my grandparents. Now I will live life on my terms. I love two things, traveling and animals. I don’t feel safe with the idea of heading off alone into the wilderness right now, not with so many people out there who might want to hurt me. So, America, my aunt, and working with animals it is.
I’ve been thinking of doing something like veterinary nursing. Not being an actual vet because I wouldn’t like to have the life of an animal in my hands, but vet nursing would be awesome. I prefer animals to people. Don’t feel uncomfortable around them, and it pays well enough for me to make a life for myself.
I’m not bothered about material things. So long as I have a roof over my head and can have a dog, and a couple of cats maybe too, I’ll be happy. Maybe one day, I’ll meet a nice man and get married. My dream would be some land and a few horses, the chance to travel regularly. Nothing more. Nothing less.
All of that is a long way off, though. I need to lay low for a few months until I’m sure it’s safe to travel under my real name to America. It means at some point asking Maya for a huge favor. I need her to get Damen to find out if there is anyone still after me, and not breathe a word of my plans to him. Simply tell him I’m moving away to start a new life. I don’t want any of those men to know my whereabouts. I trust my friend, but I don’t trust the men she hangs around with. Not anymore. I am robbed of any illusions of glamour I had about them.
The bass of some dance song starts up down the road, bringing me back to the present, and I stare out into the dimly lit room.
The bar is half empty, which suits me. It’s hot and sweaty work already, and I’m half dreading the summer months when the nights never cool down and the place is packed with pissed up Brits. I’m half looking forward to them too. The busier it gets, the less time I’ll have to think, and worry, and obsess.
Greece doesn’t feel safe for me anymore, and it breaks my heart. My home, the land I have always loved, is somewhere I most likely will have to leave. I love traveling, but I always traveled knowing I could come back home.
If I do decide to go to America, I’ll have to get Maya to go to the Kolonaki apartment and find my passport, then send it to a PO Box somewhere I can pick it up.
The last time I called her, we didn’t get the chance to talk. She must have been with Damen, or Alesso, because she acted as if I was a wrong number, and I got the drift quickly and hung up.
“Hey, Blondie, another two Amstel, please.” A young man, roughly twenty, I think, is asking for his third drink.
Maybe I ought to have a couple myself? A lot of the bar staff out here drink. As do the tourist reps. And the bar owners. Hell, everyone drinks! God, but the British like their alcohol. In Greece we drink a bit of wine with dinner, and maybe a brandy or a scotch in the evening. That’s about it. You’re as likely to see a Greek person drink a coffee at night as an alcoholic drink. The old men like their ouzo, but mostly, we aren’t a binge-drinking nation in the way the Brits are. These guys like their booze.
They do beers chased with shots. The stuff they drink is vile. I don’t think they even care what it tastes like. Blue dyed cocktails, or cheap vodka mixed with Coke, endless bottles of lager, and of course, the shots they down with them. Tequila mostly.
Maybe the oblivion they seek is something that will help me?
I serve the man the drinks he requested. “Thanks, Blondie,” he says with a wink.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror running along the back of the bar. I am blonde now. Short, funky blonde hair highlights my features, making my dark eyes and brows dramatic against the light tones. It’s growing out a bit since the last time I home bleached it, and my roots are dark, making it look more edgy. I don’t look anything like the me of the last twenty plus years. I’ve lost weight too, from all the stress, and instead of looking like a slender young woman, I look positively scrawny.
Gone are the classy clothes too. I had to buy a new wardrobe, and at first, I simply purchased some comfy cargo style pants, a couple sweaters, and underwear, as it was still cool on the island when I arrived.
Since heading down here to work, I’ve bought a few things from the shops here, and now I own a few tanks, skinny ripped jeans, some short-shorts, Nikes with a platform as they are both comfy and stylish. And I’ve started to wear funky makeup. I share a room with an English girl called June. Her name is sweetly old-fashioned, whereas June is anything but.
She fucks more men than I have hot dinners, which is one of her Brit sayings I’ve picked up.
June has bright red hair and wears fifties, pin-up style clothes, and is a bombshell of the highest order. Men literally swoon for her. She’s been giving me makeup tips. I wore makeup before, but light and not obvious. A slick of gloss, some mascara, maybe a hint of blush. Now, I have spiky lashes, kohl-rimmed eyes, because June says my eyes are the kind men want to get lost in, the crazy girl. And most strikingly of all, most of the time these days I have a bright matte lips. Some days it is red, sometimes pink. Tonight, my lips are shocking pink. Another June idea that I have taken to.
She’s bugging me to get a tattoo, but I don’t think I’ll go that far; besides, what would I choose?
June is tiny, five-feet-two, and she has and though she be but little, she is fierce inked on her arm. It suits her, she is little, and she is fierce. I am neither of those things. Although, maybe I am a bit fierce; after all, I have killed a man. Two men.
The image of Simon’s ashen face and wide open eyes flashes into my brain, broadsiding me and taking my breath away. I never think about him, about either of them. I can’t. If I do, I start to shake and go all hot and then cold, and basically lose it.
Shit, I do need a drink tonight, after all. I turn to the bar, take down the brandy I know is the good stuff, not the cheap crap, and pour myself a stiff measure. I down it in one, and the burn is so good!
I let it fill me, warming me, and then I do something probably a bit crazy, I pour another.
By the end of my shift, I’ve had three brandies, four Cokes, because damn brandy makes you thirsty, and two beers. And I am drunk!
Drunk as a skunk. For a girl who barely drinks, I’ve indulged a lot tonight.
I’m lonely and sad, and so I call Maya. Luckily for me, she doesn’t answer. If she had I might have begged her to come get me, and then I’d be back to square one. Not on the inside of their world, but close enough to it to never be safe.
He shot a woman in the head. Yannis’ words about Alesso bounce around in my befuddled brain, and just like the images of the men I killed, I push them away.
So much violence in the world, and for what end? At least when I killed I did it in self-defense.
I killed.
Crap. The images are hard to keep out tonight. Maybe I ought to drin
k some more?
June says booze and sex are what she does to outrun her demons. She has a lot of demons, she says.
Her stepfather abused her, and now she seems to hate men as much as she likes to use them for sex. She never lets them stay the next morning, and she never lets them see her again. She always uses protection, and she seems to have a good time. I once asked her if she genuinely enjoyed it because I was brought up to believe sex should be something special between two people who care for one another. She gave me a strange look and said of course she did, she wouldn’t do it otherwise. I wonder, though, is it more of a compulsion than genuine pleasure seeking?
Half the time, the guys she drags back to our basic little apartment are drunk, and I can’t see them making very good lovers.
Perhaps I ought to try, though. There’s a guy who works out here, Vinny, and he’s a bit different to the others. I haven’t seen him screw around yet; although, the season is barely started. He also doesn’t work in the bars, but teaches diving at one of the hotels. He’s an Aussie I think, and he’s gorgeous.
I get the feeling he likes me because whenever he comes into the bar, he shoots me these glances when he thinks I’m not looking.
I take out another beer and pop the lid. The doors are half closed, and the night is winding down. I may as well finish as I started and have one more for the road. I can regret it at leisure tomorrow, when I’m sure I’ll have the hangover from hell.
As the last stragglers leave, Vinny and a couple of his friends slip in and take a seat near the back. Tomas, the owner, takes them all a beer over and joins them. He flips on the huge TV dominating the back wall and turns the channel to basketball. I don’t get the appeal of the sport myself. Then again, I don’t like most sports. Soccer is beyond dull too. I quite like gymnastics. Alesso has the body of a top gymnast. Or maybe an Olympic swimmer. He’s not as big and bulked up as Damen, who is a beast, but he’s still got more muscle than most men, and he’s easily six feet.
Damen’s like a linebacker, whereas Alesso is like a big quarterback. Then I’m finding myself imagining Alesso in those tight trousers that American Football players wear. Now, there’s a sport I could get behind. The outfits are awesome.
I shake my head, not wanting Alesso in there. I remind myself I hate him and all of those violent, dark men who lead the life he does. I want nothing more to do with any of them.
As I swig at my beer, my gaze cuts across the room, and I see Vinny smiling my way. Instead of my usual trick of turning away and busying myself with something behind the bar, I smile back.
He runs a hand through his wavy, dirty blond hair, and his green eyes light up as his grin spreads. He’s such a good-looking boy, but that’s the trouble. He looks like a boy to me, not a man. And I know it’s unfair, and it is because I’m comparing him to an amoral, murderous-but-beautiful, thirty-something God of a man, but Vinny simply isn’t in Alesso’s league.
Still, I want to lose this cursed loneliness that dogs me every day, so why not with him? A little bit of comfort for a few hours. It would also mean I’d have had sex with two men, instead of only the one, which would move me a smidgen nearer to the femme fatale league June is so clearly in.
I flush at the thought. Can I? Am I capable of something as casual as the sex June has? Maybe I ought to find out.
The few times I’ve had sex, I didn’t really enjoy it. I much prefer oral, or playing with myself frankly, to the irritating thrusting my boyfriend did the occasions we made love. Making love, hah. As if. He shoved his penis in, thrust in and out a few times, groaned and went slack on me, and the Earth was supposed to move?
“You can go now, Stella,” Tomas calls to me, interrupting my thoughts. “Thanks for your help.”
I nod at him and smile then glance at Vinny. He’s watching me, and I wish I was the sort of girl who had the guts to ask him to walk her home, but I’m not. With a sigh, I grab my tips and put them into my pocket. Twenty euros, not bad at all for a quiet night. I head out of the bar.
“Hey, wait up.” Vinny jogs after me and catches up to me as my heart rate skyrockets.
“Hey,” I say, shy suddenly.
I don’t do this. I don’t talk to boys. Or men. I don’t find it easy. Except for Alesso, who despite his god-like handsomeness somehow managed to get me to chat and to talk. Maybe it was because he always came off as brotherly in his dealings with me. I saw my crush as one-sided, silly even, and it gave me a chance to be around him and talk to him because I told myself I didn’t have to worry about my heart eyes and pink cheeks. Alesso would find it all simply adorable and would never see me in any other way. Then he did the thing. He pushed me up against a car door, his big body bracketing mine, and he swiped at my tears with his thumb … and then tasted them.
The man wiped my tears away and then sucked his thumb into his mouth and tasted them.
It was strange, but undeniably hot.
I still tell myself he probably only did such a thing to scare me off from my crush, show me he was way out of my league.
My last chat to Maya put those naïve beliefs to bed. She told me in no uncertain terms that she thinks Alesso has the hots for me. He’s pissed I disappeared, and he wants to find me.
That makes him dangerous.
If he did find me, I doubt I’d be able to resist him, because I’m weak and stupid for that man. But also because I’m lonely and deep down I’m scared. The issue is, Alesso is not nice.
He. Is. Not. Nice.
I repeat my mantra and push Alesso out of my head because he’s not nice, and he’s not here, whereas Vinny most definitely is here.
We reach the steps to the apartment I share with June, and Vinny flashes me a grin. “Can I come in?”
Oh shit, am I really going to do this?
I nod at him because yes, yes, I am. I will burn Alesso from my brain, and at the same time, find a few hours of comfort in someone’s arms.
I unlock the door and stumble into the room. June isn’t here, which either means she’ll be back later with some guy in tow, or will turn up tomorrow morning looking well used and happy from a good shag she got elsewhere. Will I look like that in the morning?
Smiling at Vinny, I trip over a pair of June’s shoes sprawled on the floor of the living area and curse.
Not wanting small talk now I’ve made my mind up, I lead Vinny to the room I sleep in. it only has a single bed, but that doesn’t matter, I suppose. The bed is narrow and not that comfortable, and I’m feeling distinctly crappy suddenly, but I won’t put this off any longer. Now I’ve decided to go for it, I’m going to do it.
I sit on the bed too hard and hurt my calves on the wooden shell.
“Come here,” I slur as I crook my finger at Vinny.
He doesn’t waste any time and takes his shoes off, hopping about as he does so. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, showing a damn nice body, then he’s by me, close to me on the bed.
I follow suit and take my own top off, leaving me in only my plain cotton bra. I wish I had something sexier on. I hate my boobs, they’re so small and boring. Maya has great boobs. I envy them.
“You’re so hot,” Vinny murmurs. “I love your hair. You’re very classically beautiful you know, but you kind of dirty it up with the messy blonde hair and the makeup. I like it. It’s wild.”
If only he knew this isn’t the real me. The real me is a girl with boring but classy hair, expensive clothes more suitable for a woman in her thirties, and a makeup palette that never strays from neutral.
I’m playing dress-up and not only because of the clothes I’m wearing and the hair, but who I am pretending to be. The couldn’t-care-less-worker-girl-out-on-the-islands-having-fun. It isn’t me. I should have gone on a trek, but I was too scared. Scared to leave the country, scared to stay. I took the third option, hiding amongst the tourists and the bars on one of the islands.
It feels safe enough as it is home, but it isn’t somewhere anyone will look for me. Maybe, after a few mont
hs here, perhaps a few more sexual encounters, and maybe even a tattoo, I’ll toughen up for real. Then I can go live with my aunty in America and start a new life. Fuck this shit here, and the mafia and their sick ways. I love Maya, but I think she’s made a mistake marrying Damen and getting involved so hard with that life. But then … look at who her father is, her real father. The girl is knee-deep in it anyway. Maybe I should start to be as wary of her as I am of the men around her?
Then again, she didn’t kill a man, did she. Not like me.
The moment his face flashes into my mind, the panic starts, and I can’t deal with that. I pull Vinny into me instead and take his mouth in a ravenous kiss.
He responds immediately, groaning into my mouth and shoving his tongue in. He’s a bit too eager, and his kiss is so wet I have to swallow down saliva, which isn’t particularly erotic. It’s too full on, and I can’t breathe, but I welcome the drowning. At least I’m falling under with Vinny, and not alone in the dark depths like I am when the memories of what I did flood in.
He maneuvers me onto the bed, and he’s kissing at my throat, and that’s kind of nice. Almost relaxing. I close my eyes, and oh dear, things are spinning a bit, but I can’t be bothered to open my eyes to make it stop. Not yet. I’ll rest them a moment.
Only for a moment.
Bright.
So bright.
I lick my lips and swallow down past the sand coating my throat. Why is the light so bright? I should turn it off. It’s not sexy to have a light on when you’re about to have sex. Is it? Maybe a dim one, not this full wattage thing blasting through my lids to my retina.
I groan and flick open my eyes. Trying to move, to turn off the damn light, I’m aware of something warm around me. Warm and a bit itchy. I look down to see a tan, hairy leg slung over my waist, and I frown.
Vinny is beside me, snoring softly into my neck. Did he fall asleep? Oh, God, did I? How sad is that? My first-time having sex in forever, and I fall asleep? Shit.
