The Gates of Gabriel

by Marie-France Leger

  And what a mistake that was. The air between us grew heavy, and Beau’s shoulders tensed up. He remained silent, though I could tell he was biting back words. Great job Maya, you struck a nerve. Can this night get any worse?

  I swallowed down my embarrassment and quickly put it back in its place. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  My body practically shoved me out of the car, my hand hovering over the door handle ready to click it open. But before I did, my mouth decided it wasn’t done humiliating me.

  “Thank you for tonight.” I spluttered, red-faced. “You didn’t need to help me, but you did. So, thank you.”

  He let out a soft chuckle. “What are friends for,” he replied.

  I forced a smile and stepped out of his Porsche, watching him pull out of my driveway and drive off into the dusky morning.

  I stood at my front door for a few moments, staring at the parking spot where he was only a few seconds ago. I replayed all the events of tonight in my head, wondering why his last remark stung more than it should have.

  “Friends.” I whispered under my breath.

  Just friends.

  Chapter 12

  Kleaton’s Gate, June 24th

  Braum was out drinking at a local pub the night of Maya’s birthday. Of course, Maya and Braum had very different ways of celebrating their night. After Mags put a restraining order against Braum, his father beat him senseless every night for a week. His father was a drunk and worked at a gas station, spending most of his earnings on booze and cigarettes. Braum’s mother had passed away due to cancer when he was a boy and his sister had emancipated herself years ago. He had to obey court-ordered volunteer work at a soup kitchen on top of working at a convenience store, hoping to save enough money to move away.

  He crashed at Tommy’s place a few nights a week, and another few at Ky’s. They couldn’t let him stay though; their parents weren’t too keen on the fact Braum now had a criminal record.

  Braum decided that he had enough of his personal pity party and wanted to let loose. “C’mon boys, let’s just go!”

  Tommy and Ky were playing video games in Tommy’s basement, ignoring Braum’s senseless invitation. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to go; they just saw what he was becoming and wanted to protect him from it.

  “Ky you got me covered?” Tommy asked, playing Call of Duty. “Braum, man, I’m not feeling Pinkie’s tonight.”

  Pinkie’s Up was the only strip club in Kleaton’s Gate. It wasn’t posh, but it wasn’t dingy either. Some professionals would go there, but reserve a back room so no one would see them. The young and dumb who turned the legal age would also have little celebrations there as well. Then of course, the regulars who practically lived on their doorstep.

  “It’s half-priced drinks tonight, Tommy. When’d you get so boring?” Braum scoffed, taking a huge gulp of beer.

  “I’m with Tommy on this one, dude. Just chill here, we got enough beer for nine weeks.” Ky added. “Tommy… acquiring target!”

  The following moments were silent while the boys concentrated on the game. Concentration, concentration…

  A collective scream followed by a high five. “Yes! Target acquired!” Tommy cheered, crushing his beer can.

  Braum bit the insides of his cheeks and marched in front of the TV, unplugging the console with force. He ran his fingers through his tangled blonde hair and watched the boys, agitated.

  “The hell?” Ky swore, throwing his arms up in protest.

  “Dude?” Tommy questioned.

  Braum didn’t say anything. He dragged his legs over to the mini fridge and pulled out two beers, sliding them over to his friends.

  “I’m not drinking by myself while you guys play video games. There’s tits and booze calling my fuckin’ name.” Braum took another huge swig of his brew. “Now, will you quit being boys and grow some fuckin’ chest hair, will ya?”

  Tommy and Ky both looked at each other in bewilderment, confused and concerned. Neither one of them moved; neither one of them touched the alcohol. The silence weighed heavy in the air while Braum stood, jittery and annoyed.

  It was Tommy who decided to break the tension, standing up to grab the beer bottle from Braum’s hand. “Buddy, you need to sit down.”

  Braum moved away quickly, flailing his arms. “Don’t touch my fuckin’ beer!”

  The boys stared at him.

  “Now I’m goin’ to Pinkie’s, and if you guys don’t want to come so be it. I’m out of here.” Braum waved his hand in the air and snagged another beer bottle on the way out, slamming the door.

  Pinkie’s was about a half hour walk from Tommy’s place, but Braum knew a shortcut. He got there in under twenty. The pink neon entrance flashed through the darkness, inviting him in.

  Braum took one last sip of his brew before throwing it to the side, and pushing open the doors. “Home sweet home.” He grimaced.

  ◆◆◆

  Low, sensual music boomed over two enormous speakers. Crowds of men sat in groups at metal tables, placing dollar bills into the thong straps of the strippers.

  Braum passed a dark haired woman who sported a bright blue bikini bottom and orange pasties. He whistled and winked, making his way to the luminescent bar.

  He pulled out a twenty dollar bill and slammed it down aggressively. “Two rum and cokes, double the rum.”

  The bartender was a young blonde in her early twenties, wearing a small white tank and a padded pink bra. She made the drink quickly and handed it to him with a smile. “Here you go.”

  “Mm,” Braum spoke hoarsely, gawking at her cleavage. “You got that bra in red, too?”

  The bartender rolled her eyes and grabbed the twenty, shoving it in her bra cup.

  “Whore,” Braum snarled, walking towards a vacant leather couch.

  He ogled salaciously at the strippers on stage, tossing whatever loose change he found in his pockets onto the ground beneath them.

  And he drank – more, and more, until his pockets were dry.

  The night passed in a blur. A few women took interest in Braum, sizing him up and complimenting him. He’d engage for a few moments, but the women quickly realized he had no money to give. Their initial lap dances quickly turned to angry bartering.

  “Bitches! All women are bitches!” he raged, taking a huge swig of his drink.

  No one paid attention to Braum, even though he desperately craved it. If a woman hadn’t given him her time for more than fifteen minutes, he would throw ice cubes at the wall like a spastic infant. He wanted to feel something, anything. Braum was aware that his life fell apart as a young boy, but thought to turn it all around as he got older. When he finally accepted the position he was in, it ate away at him. The excessive drinking was just one of his many coping mechanisms.

  “Easy there, tiger.” A red-haired woman approached Braum, the first one in a couple of hours.

  The mystery girl was tall and slim, all legs. Her wavy red hair swooped down just over her chest, soft like silk. She wore a tight green dress and fishnets, accompanied by yellow stilettos.

  “Mind if I sit?” the redhead asked, plopping down right on his lap. She smiled at him, brushing away strands of his sweaty blonde hair.

  Braum grew fidgety, nervous. He’d never met a girl who exuded this much confidence… a woman, rather. He didn’t know where to place his hands, so they settled on the curve of her spine. “Do you uh –” he choked.

  She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck. She traced a finger over his jaw, then his chin, then his lips.

  Braum wanted to say something, anything, but all the words died in his throat. After a few moments, he managed to ask, “Do you work here?”

  She shook her head and glanced around the room, grimacing at all the strippers grinding on titillated customers. “I’m too good for a place like this. Or maybe,” she grabbed the drink from Braum’s free hand, “too bad.” She smirked, licking the rim of the glass.

  Braum shifted in his seat, subtly trying to hide the
growing erection in his pants. He wanted this woman, every inch of her, right now. Just barely touching her, she’d already satiated his every fantasy. Sleeping with girls was one of his many hobbies, but that’s all girls were to him, hobbies. He hadn’t really been interested in anyone since Mags, but this woman… this woman changed the game. He wanted to know her. He needed more.

  The mystery woman climbed to the other side of Braum, stretching over him seductively. She got to her feet and extended a hand out. “How about you take me home and I can show you just how bad I can be?”

  Braum nodded slowly, his lips dry, waiting to kiss hers. Everything about her was enticing, captivating, desirable.

  He wore an intoxicated expression as she led him outside, but not from the alcohol. “Can I get a name at least?” he flirted.

  The woman smirked and curled her fingers around Braum’s, looking ahead. “Marina.”

  Chapter 13

  Kleaton’s Gate, Present Day

  Mags and I hadn’t talked for a few days after Beau and I visited her mom’s house. She told me she would text me but to my surprise, she hadn’t. I called her numerous times just to hear her direct me to voicemail.

  “Hey this is Mags, say you love me and I might just call you back. Mwah.”

  “Are you serious?” I muttered, tossing my phone onto the bed.

  I found comfort underneath my blankets, burying my face, and problems into my pillow. It was hard for me to believe that everything was fine, especially after the near abduction that could have been, at Arc Royale. At least Mags was okay… Keep telling yourself that, Maya. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.

  I closed my eyes, shutting out the world. “What is my life.” I murmured against the silk casing.

  I must have dozed off because when I looked out my window, the mid-day clouds turned into a fading sunset. I rubbed my eyes and checked the time: 7:32pm.

  “Maya?” my dad asked, knocking on my door.

  “Come in,” I said, forcing myself to consciousness.

  My dad stared at me, confused. “Since when do you nap?”

  I shrugged my shoulders, placing my pillow back on top of the others. I noticed a wet line of drool on the silk. Okay, yuck.

  I quickly shook my head and turned my attention back to my dad. “Since today I guess.”

  He chuckled and opened my door a little wider. “Mags is downstairs. She said you girls had dinner plans?”

  I practically flew off of my bed in shock. My eyes grew wide with bewilderment, wondering if I’d heard my dad correctly. “Mags? Mags is downstairs? Right now?” I asked, utterly perplexed.

  My dad nodded slowly, puzzled. “What’s wrong? Did you not have plans tonight?”

  I knew that if I said no, my dad would bombard me with more questions. I hadn’t explained to him what was going on the past few days and the fact we hadn’t spoken. It’s not that I didn’t want some moral support, but I myself, had no idea why she wasn’t talking to me. Though if Mags really was downstairs, I could finally get some answers.

  I scrambled for my purse. “No, yes. I mean, yes we have plans. The nap made me woozy,” I said, hurrying past him. “See, this is why I don’t nap.”

  I didn’t wait for his response as I bolted down the stairs. Only, I wish that I hadn’t bolted. I wished that I stayed in the comfort of my blankets, huddled underneath its protection. Because who was standing in my kitchen, staring at me with piercing blue eyes, was far from who I expected.

  “Mags?” I shivered, slowing down as I reached the bottom step.

  A heavy weight balled in my stomach, anchoring me down in place. A girl who looked like Mags, yet not at all, turned to me with a poisonous smile that halted my movements. I held my breath, looking at someone who I thought… I thought I knew. Her eyes were icy, beady and bloodshot. Everything in me told me to run away, to send her out and never invite her back in my home. But… why?

  She faced me, slicing her stare into mine like pointed blades. “I’ve missed you,” she smirked.

  ◆◆◆

  The tension in Mags’ car could have shattered a window. I shifted in my seat a handful of times, attempting to relax, but I couldn’t. Panic loomed over me, feeding my fear.

  “So…” she broke the silence, clicking her tongue. “How’ve you been?”

  She kept her eyes on the road while I quickly stole a glance. Her makeup was done differently. She had dark eyeliner smudged underneath her waterline and scarlet lipstick. Mags loved playing with makeup but never the dark shades; she said it contrasted against her skin and blonde hair. A nude lip and mascara was her staple. This, however, was the complete opposite. Her blonde hair had two dark brown streaks cascading down both sides of her face, bristly and dry.

  “You uh –” I stuttered. “You changed your hair.”

  “Mhm,” she smiled. “You like it? I thought it was edgy. Blonde Mags was getting a little too boring.”

  I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to jump out of the moving vehicle. If I were to die, it would be a kindness compared to the harrowing feeling I felt around her. She was not the same girl that she was a few days ago, she wasn’t Mags. The thought of her ever going dark never crossed my mind; she wouldn’t have even considered it for a billion dollars. One time she wore a brown wig for her Halloween costume and took it off in the middle of the night because she said it gave her food poisoning. Food. Poisoning. And now… now I’m supposed to believe she changed her appearance to this, willingly? Absolutely not.

  “It’s different.” I responded quietly.

  We hadn’t exchange many words the entire ride into town. I didn’t know what to talk about, or how to ask questions. The air remained heavy, intoxicating. Everything that I thought to say slipped my head and fell into a dark abyss. Each glance I stole, the grim feeling resurfaced. It tugged and prodded at my psyche, repeating over and over again. Something is wrong. Get out of the car.

  After a torturous half hour, Mags pulled into one of the fanciest restaurants in Kleaton’s Gate, one that I could never afford unless I was splitting with three or more people.

  I wiggled my brows in confusion. “What are we doing at Fondos?”

  She shut off the ignition and turned to me. Her blue eyes narrowed, darkening. “Eating, what else?” she laughed, grabbing her purse then slamming the car door shut.

  I followed after her as she marched up to the glass entrance. “Mags, I can’t afford to eat here.”

  Mags and I only ate at fast food joints or local diners. We weren’t a fan of the elite community, especially at Kleaton’s Gate. Fondos was beside Swan Lake’s golf course which held the top tier millionaires and their bratty partners. Needless to say, I was baffled that Mags even considered bringing us here.

  She turned around quickly and held up her hand, tapping together her black acrylic nails. “Your mom saved thousands of dollars for you in a trust fund before she died. Now she’s dead, and you can use it.”

  My jaw dropped.

  Her words cut me like a knife, hacking at my heart. I fought every urge inside of me to slap her across the face, shocked that she would ever mention my mom in such a distasteful light. She watched me with a smile, as if she was waiting for a reaction.

  My teeth chattered as I held back tears. I wanted to hurl myself in front of a car, or jump off a cliff… whichever was most painful. Mags would never say anything about my mom unless it was in good faith, never. We would rarely even talk about her because she knew how sensitive a topic it was for me.

  “How dare –” It took everything in me to stop myself.

  I knew that I had to control my anger to get answers. At this point, that was all I wanted. Something happened that night with Siles, and I needed to know what. I bit my tongue and trailed behind her. What happened to you…

  I always judged the upper class lifestyle, but there was no denying its opulence. The ambiance of the restaurant was absolutely breath-taking. A waterfall with a koi pond was directly behind the host stand and gl
ass chandeliers hung from the baroque ceilings. A white linen banner hung to my left reading:

  Welcome to Fondos! We specialize in the world’s finest Italian cuisine!

  Yeah, if you can afford it.

  The man behind the host stand was very handsome, wearing an all white ensemble with gold hemming. I glanced around the room to find that everyone working was quite good-looking as well. I expected that much.

  “Table for two.” Mags said, flatly.

  I was sure she would have hit on him. She flirted with everyone if they were attractive enough for her, and this guy seemed to be very much her type. Tall, muscular, charming smile… but she didn’t even bat an eyelash.

  He led the way to a table near the balcony, overlooking the lake. “Here you are ladies, can I start you off with some water?” he asked.

  Before I could speak, Mags took the reigns. “Gin and tonic, light ice.”

  The host looked taken aback by her attitude but kept his composure all the same, looking to Mags then to me. “I’ll tell your server right away. Yourself?”

  I forced a smile, hiding my discomfort. “Water’s fine,” I said, taking a seat. He left.

  “Since when do you drink gin?” I questioned, glancing over the menu in horror. The only thing I could afford were garlic sticks for twenty-three dollars. What a scam.

  “I like to try new things, you know that.” She said, folding her arms over the table.

  Hm. “Do I?”

  A moment of silence passed when our server returned with our drinks. She was a very pretty, curvy brunette. “Hi ladies, my name is Sam and I’ll be your server for tonight. Have you decided what you’ll be having?”

  Mags pointed her finger at the menu. “I’ll have the steak and potatoes.”

  “And how would you like your steak done ma’am?” Sam asked, writing on her notepad.

  Mags closed the menu and handed it to her. “Rare.”

  I swallowed down my words. Mags never ordered steak because she said red meat interfered with her diet plan and she was extra peculiar about raw meat. All my life I watched Mags avoid steak at family barbecues, practically convulsing at the sight of a pork-chop.