Cut

by Bry Ann

His eyebrows raise at the change in my demeanor. I’m used to that by now, though. I get it together fast. Dad taught me that. Sometimes things slip out, jefe, but you don’t wave them around. Hold tight.

  “I need a plane ticket to Albany. I don’t really have the funds right now.”

  I look over at him with puppy dog eyes.

  “Albany?” He laughs. “You think I’m gonna buy you a fucking plane ticket?”

  He looks over at me. For all his talk, he actually seems like he’s considering it.

  “What’s in Albany, anyway?”

  I look down at my knees. “My father. He… lives there. I really need to see him.”

  “And he can’t help you?”

  “No.” He doesn’t even know who I am half the time.

  The car goes quiet. Since I didn’t give a specific destination, he seems to have decided to take me to his house. He doesn’t say a word when we pull through the gate. It’s not until the car is put in park that he turns to me again.

  “I’ll make a deal with you. First, forget the Frances thing. Stay away from him, and let me handle it. Two, take someone with you when you go to Albany. Do that, and I’ll get you the ticket you need, along with enough money for a hotel and a rental car.”

  “Take someone? I’m not ten! I go alone.”

  He waves a finger in my face. “Nope, not the deal. You’re clearly going through some kind of quarter-life crisis. I’m not gonna be responsible for Lacey losing a friend.”

  “Oh, but you’re cool with taking away my clearance to your house so I never see her.”

  He waves a hand as he gracefully climbs out of the car, pulling his Armani suit back into place.

  “I was never actually going to do that. I just needed to get you to talk. That was one of the very few things you actually care about.”

  “You fucking…”

  My words fade when he turns fully and raises his eyebrows, daring me to finish that sentence.

  “That’s shitty,” I grumble as I climb out of the car myself.

  He smirks at me. “It’s how I get my job done. Let me know what you decide, Ms. Vasquez.”

  And he’s gone.

  Too busy for me. Too important to be bothered with my presence anymore.

  I don’t know how Lacey handles him.

  He’s hella intimidating.

  Then again, so is she.

  13

  I watch Lacey shuffling around the kitchen in a short sleeve, green-grey t-shirt. She’s biting her lower lip, fully focused on applying spices to the rows of chicken breasts on the counter. Since she can’t see me, I take a second to look over her body. I feel bad because Lacey tries so hard to cover it most of the time, but I can’t help myself.

  I still don’t know Lacey’s whole story. Rose won’t tell me, but I do know she was held captive by a rival mafia gang, and apparently her husband as well, both of whom tortured the shit out of her. Her skin is dented, wrinkled, and lined with red indentions. It’s more scars than skin, to be honest. I find myself drawing comparisons between her and my man.

  Well, not my man. Ew. Her boxing coach, you know. No idea where that came from.

  Although they share the similarity of having scars covering most of their body, his are so different from hers. His are red, long, and deep. They primarily cover his face and, I imagine, his torso. I haven’t really noticed them on his limbs. Lacey, on the other hand, is covered entirely with white scars and burnt skin, but not on her face. Her face is clear. That’s one mercy Cut never got.

  “Maria?”

  I realize Lacey is staring at me and I’ve been transfixed by the floor for the past thirty seconds.

  “What are you doing here? Rose isn’t here.” She pauses for a second. “Neither is Cut.”

  “I came to see you!” I perk up, forcing a high-pitched, enthusiastic voice.

  “Uh, really?”

  Aww, I’m awful. “Yes, babe. Of course.”

  I still make her nervous. Lord knows why.

  She wipes her hands on her apron. “Okay, um… well… Look, I’m not used to people coming to see me here. Other than Rose or Nix. I don’t really know what to do.”

  She looks so sheepish. “Well, I got ya covered. Let’s go to your room.”

  “Eh, bad idea. I share it with my husband.”

  She gives me a pointed look, like do you really want to go in the mafia Boss’s bedroom? Yeah, no.

  “Good call. Got any suggestions? Let’s chat. Grab snacks.”

  “Alright.”

  She turns to the pantry, then back over her shoulder once, like she’s not sure I’m serious. Now I feel like the shittiest human ever. She’ll never get rid of me. She’ll be sick of friends by the time I’m done. I’m finding her more friends. Bottom line.

  When she realizes I’m serious, she grabs bags full of stuff and turns back to me with an innocent expression.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Alright, cutie. Show me where to go.”

  She walks ahead of me and leads me to a small room with a couch and a TV. We take a seat across from each other.

  “I’ve never really been in this room. Ruston told me I should use it more, and I guess, well, this is a first.”

  “It’s cute.”

  “I like it,” she confirms with a hesitant smile. “Anyway, why are you here? Are you taking me up on my offer? What’s going on with you?”

  “Woah, Jesus. What’s with the third degree?”

  She blushes. “Sorry, I just figured that’s why you were here. ‘Cause of what I said about being willing to listen if you needed to talk.”

  “No, your husband got that covered,” I grumble.

  “Oh, no!” She covers her face with her hands on a groan before rolling her neck and glancing up at me. “What’d he do?”

  “Psh, don’t worry about it. I got him.”

  She smiles at her shoes. “You’re crazy. Please tell me what he said.”

  “Okay, but before I do, I have a question. Do you obey him like a puppy, or are you cool with rebelling once in a while?”

  Her eyes widen slightly. “Uh, maybe a mix of both? I trust him, and he’s my partner so I listen, but I believe what I believe. That won’t change for anyone, not even him.”

  I smile. “Okay, great. He wanted to know some details on what happened with Frances. I told him, then asked him for tickets to Albany ‘cause his capo’s a dick. That warrants a favor, don’t you think? Well, in true bossman fashion he said yes, but gave me ‘conditions’. Apparently, he’s incapable of not being a bossy asshole.”

  Lacey shakes her head, trying to process all this. Then her eyebrows furrow and her eyes harden. “What really happened with Frances?”

  I shrug. “We fucked. He freaked. Broke my hand. Threatened me a bit, blah blah blah. It all worked out.”

  “He did that?” She points to my hand, shaking with rage. “I figured, but I… wasn’t sure.”

  I take my good hand and place it over hers. “Hey, now, I’m fine. He’ll get his ass handed to him. Don’t you worry about it.”

  “Hmm.” She’s clearly displeased. Oh shit, is Frances gonna regret ever fucking with me. “Why did you ask me if I was obedient to my husband?”

  “Okay, right. So, your husband tried to one up me when I asked him to get me a ticket to Albany by making me bring someone with me.”

  “Uh… okay, that’s weird. Why Albany, by the way?”

  “My dad lives there. Anyway, I was thinking you could come. It’d be fun, and he’d freak out. It’d be like a big ‘fuck you’ to him.”

  A laugh bursts out of her. “Oh, uh, wow. He really would freak out if I said I wanted to go.”

  “I mean, hey, I’d love if you could come! I’d show you a good time.”

  “Oh… no. Thanks. I, just, well, I’m not really good at traveling.”

  “I get it,” I say softly, remembering Lacey’s slight agoraphobia.

  “Was he a total jerk about getting you the ticket?”<
br />
  “Yes! Total jerk. I just want to see my dad, geez! He didn’t need to go all mafia Boss on me.”

  “Look, I may not really want to go to Albany, but if you want, I’ll pretend to want to go.”

  “You’d do that for me, babe?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she shrugs. “He needs to be knocked back a bit. You’re my friend now, so he needs to remember how I like them to be treated.”

  Her eyes glimmer with defiance. Ooh, this is the Lacey I just loveeee… and fear slightly. Not gonna lie.

  Soon after our chat, Lacey took my hand and led me through the house. She quietly tapped on an oversized oak door. She kept calling it the main room, but it wasn’t missed by me how she stiffened and didn’t step foot in there. She wouldn’t even open the door herself.

  “Lacey?” Her husband asks, surprise evident in his tone. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

  His eyes flicker to me. There is a definite hardness there. I smirk. Don’t try to outshine me, asshole.

  “Can we talk for a second?”

  He nods tersely and quietly shuts the door behind him. “What do you need?”

  “So, you know how you need someone to go with Maria to Albany?”

  “Yes,” he clips.

  “I wanna go. Is that okay?”

  “You wanna go to Albany?” His face blanks as his fists clench by his sides.

  “It’ll be good for me to have a trip. I’ve never done it before. I really think I can.”

  He laughs incredulously. “She put you up to this!” He points his thumb at me. “You’re not going to fucking Albany! Are you kidding me right now?”

  She looks at him with the best doe eyes I’ve ever seen. It’s almost like she’s comprehending his words, but there’s so much steel in her that she clearly doesn’t get why he thinks he can deny her.

  “It’d be good for me,” she whispers.

  Shit, she has me believing this act. He blinks at her several times, blank faced, before letting his hand run wildly through his hair.

  “Fuck!” He hisses. “I mean, what am I gonna tell you, no?”

  “But you’re not happy?”

  “No, I’m not happy, Lacey. She shouldn’t have...” He glares hard at me. I want to shrink back, but I don’t. Lacey’s here. I’m untouchable. Which is why he’s so pissed.

  “I guess we’ll have to work out the details.”

  The stress on his face makes me burst out laughing. Lacey’s innocent act drops. He looks between the two of us, then directly at his wife.

  “You’re fucking with me?”

  She raises an eyebrow. Shock crosses his features.

  “You’re really fucking with me.”

  “Yes. Now your lesson is learned: don’t be mean to my friends.”

  Lacey turns to me and gives me a warm smile. “Do you mind if I tell Rose this story?”

  I hear Adam groan in the background. “Not at all, chica. Gossip your heart out.”

  “Thank you.”

  She glares at Adam, then sprints out of the room, leaving me with him. Damn, she must really trust that lesson she just imparted on him. I turn to face him, and by some miracle, manage not to look nauseatingly nervous.

  “Wow, that made your whole speech worth it.”

  “Don’t use my wife as leverage to protect your ego,” he snaps, fuming.

  “Hey, I didn’t force her like you did me! I asked; she volunteered.”

  His eyes flare. “You want a fucking ticket, find someone who will go with you or you’re shit out of luck. But I doubt you can. ‘Cause, you know, the only two friends you have have lives.”

  I keep my composure, but I’m pissed.

  “I’ll find someone.”

  “Does your dad even remember you?” He asks coolly, glancing at his nails.

  I freeze. “You looked into my dad?”

  My voice is like air.

  “Vietnam vet. Four years as a Marine. High ranks. Sorry, I’m not good with titles. Strict. Had a daughter with a woman who left him the second she found out. Never got over—”

  “Stop!” I shriek, backing up. “Leave it.”

  I run out of there. Bastard.

  I need a drink or a club. I keep saying I’ll go, but tonight is my night. I get my cast off, then I’m gone. I know just the bar, too.

  “Shot! Shot!”

  I stand on the chair and hold up my shot glass.

  “Ready? Who wants me to do it?”

  An array of cheers and raised beers fill the room. This is a great bar. I sigh. This is great. Great bar.

  I throw the drink back. Everyone cheers for me. I smile and sit back down, adjusting my strappy black corset dress.

  “Give me a rum and coke,” I shout at the bartender.

  “Woah, there, doll face. Slow your roll.”

  I turn to see a shorter, dark-haired man with a tight, lean physique leaning over the bar.

  “Oh, fuck off, dickwad. I’m drinking here.”

  “Hun, you’re plastered. I wouldn’t be a responsible bar owner if I let you keep drinking.”

  “Of course you’re the bar owner,” I grumble. He doesn’t smile, but I can tell he wants to. Glad I fucking amuse him.

  “What’s got you all wound up? Hell, what’s your name?”

  “Maria. Unless you are trying to get in my pants or will let me keep drinking, stay out of my way.”

  Sorry not sorry, I’m PMSing, lonely, and grumpy.

  “I’m Blade. Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?”

  “Yeah, I’m real a shot of Fireball. I’m going somewhere else.”

  I stumble out of my seat and slip forward, laughing at a highly indecent volume. Not that I care at the moment. A hand wraps around my upper arm, keeping me from face planting on the hardwood.

  “Yo, Cut, come here.”

  No. No. No. That name swirls around in my alcohol-fogged brain. Please, if there’s a God, no.

  “Blade.”

  WHY. ME.

  “Can you call this lady an Uber?”

  “You can’t?”

  “I’m watching her.”

  “She’s that drunk?”

  Blade pulls me up. I’m spun around and, boom, I feel his eyes on me. His shock. There’s a really long silence that follows.

  “I’ll handle her.”

  Blade’s eyebrows raise.

  “She yours?”

  “I’m no one’s,” I slur. “Nope. Just me. All alone. Ughh, I feel so shitty.”

  “No, she’s a friend of one of my clients.”

  Of course that’s all I am.

  “Alright, you sure, Cut? I don’t mind.”

  “Yes. I’ll handle it.”

  “Okay.” Blade turns to me. “I’m gonna hand you over. He’ll get ya home. If you need anything, stop by during the day. See ya around, doll face.”

  Then I’m gently handed off to Cut. His large hands wrap around my wrist. I groan. Too much moving me around!

  “What the hell are you thinking?” He growls.

  “I’m never gonna get to go to Albany.”

  “Albany? Your dad?”

  He’s ushering me across the crowded bar. I should probably be a little worried that we aren’t going outside.

  “No one will go with me.”

  I try to slump back to the ground, but his hand tightens and pulls me up.

  “Walk,” he commands.

  “I wanna go home.”

  “I bet.”

  “Men are jerks.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why don’t you talk to me?”

  He sighs. “What do you want me to say, Maria? You’re drunk off your ass right now.”

  A door clicks open. He flips on a dim light and helps me inside. I nearly cry when I see a cushy couch.

  “Oh, let me sit! Please.”

  I try to pull away from him, but my attempts are pathetic. He takes me the whole way and sets me down, placing a pillow in my lap.

  “I’m sure you’ll want to cuddle that
.”

  I do. Did he just say cuddle? How does he know that?

  I’m so drunk, and I’m a loose lip drunk. I have absolutely no filter. This is bad. I grab the pillow and pull it into me. Cut sits on the opposite edge of the couch and just watches me.

  “Just go to Albany on your own,” Cut finally says, breaking the silence.

  “I can’t. Bossman said I had to bring someone.”

  “Who cares what he says? You don’t work for him.”

  “He’s buying my ticket. My condition is that I have to bring someone.”

  Anger flashes in his eyes. “Then buy your own ticket. He’s dicking you around. He knows no one will go with you.”

  Ow. I rub my heart. Cut watches my hand with intrigue.

  “That bothered you.”

  “No,” I lie as I rest my head on the cushion, two inches from his thigh. He scoots back.

  “You want someone to come with you?”

  “No. I just want to be able to go.”

  “If I buy you a ticket to Albany, will you be happy?”

  Will I?

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like you would. Or like I would take your money anyway.”

  “Why? You had no problem taking his.”

  “His employee nearly raped me. He owes me. You don’t owe me; I owe you.”

  I roll over and look up at him. His jaw is glued tight, teeth gritted.

  “You don’t owe me,” he spits, sounding furious.

  “You should have let that guy hurt me and not betrayed Lacey’s trust. She’s good. Good girl. I’m not a good girl.”

  “Maria, are you okay?”

  His eyebrows pull in tight. His hand very hesitantly creeps out and touches my hair. I whimper and scoot forward. Please keep doing that.

  Cut looks at me and nails me to the spot with the intensity of his gaze.

  “You like this?” It’s a genuine question.

  “Uhhh, what woman doesn’t want their hair rubbed when they’re drunk, sad and alone?”

  “Most do,” he confirms. “But not by me.”

  His tone is completely neutral. Nothing’s changed, but his words have my eyes snapping open. I’m not good at words or feelings, but I’m good at action. I push forward and plant my head on his lap.

  “My head hurts.”

  “Take Advil,” he mutters.

  “Mmm-kay,” I sigh. “Just keep rubbing.”