| Body |
At the wedding, I looked at my boyfriend's dad and asked, "Just one more time, do you want me to marry your son, or you?"
My ideal lover would be a guy who is not in a hurry to get laid, loves literature and books, and is polite.
My sister says that such men are extinct in the 21st century.
But, Daniel has shown up.
We've been dating for a few months now after falling in love at first sight at a bookstore.
He's thoughtful and attentive and a good listener, which is often the role I play - after all, my specialty is counseling.
Today, in the bookstore where we first met, I take a sip of my cappuccino as I look over my boyfriend.
Daniel always dresses so nicely, today in perfectly-pressed grey pants, a shining silver watch at his wrist.
Wait, I bite my lip, wondering why my boyfriend has a diamond watch.
There’s movement over Daniel’s shoulder, and as I look, my eyes go wide. “Daniel, there’s…a guy over there. And he’s staring right at us.”
Daniel turns to look directly at the brawny guy, well over six feet and chorded with muscle. His professional suit does nothing to disguise the roughness of his hands, the cruel scar that runs diagonally over his face, almost splitting his nose in two.
“Oh, um,” Daniel says, shrugging. “Don’t worry about him.”
“Don’t worry about him!?” I whisper, a little scared. “Daniel, he’s looking right at –“
“No, I mean, he’s with me.” Daniel gives me an apologetic smile as my mouth falls open in shock. “That’s Parker, he’s…well. He’s kind of my body guard.”
“Oh,” I say, pulling my mouth shut into an awkward O. I stare at Daniel. He needs a bodyguard? How rich is he?
“Yeah, just ignore him,” Daniel says, giving me a cool smile. “My dad gets overprotective,” he rolls his eyes at this. “Honestly, he’s so stressed out about safety that he could use a shrink like you to give him some counseling.” Daniel laughs at this, lightening the mood.
“Anytime,” I mutter, nervously playing with my long red hair, worrying about the mismatch between Daniel’s wealth and my church-mouse status. I’ve never met anyone before who has a bodyguard.
“Can I get you anything else?” Both Daniel and I look up at the baristo who smiles down at us, a really handsome blonde-haired guy who has an apron tied around his waist.
“No thanks, Colin,” I say, giving him a big grin.
“Actually, can we both get refills?” Daniel says, giving Colin a slow smile.
“Oh, actually…“ I say, looking up at the clock and pushing my hair back behind my ears. If I don’t leave now, I’m definitely going to be late for my job doing psych evaluations at the state prison.
“She’ll take hers to go then,” Daniel says, rising from our sofa. “Here, I’ll help you.” He follows Colin back to the coffee counter.
I start to pack up my bag, intent on catching the next trolly, when I notice Daniel’s phone vibrating on the table, a call coming in.
When the number disappears, Daniel’s home screen shows a family photo. The tall man in the back is certainly his dad, the other maybe an older brother?
As I try to puzzle it out, the phone rings again – the same number. On impulse, I grab Daniel’s phone and sling my packed bag over my shoulder, heading towards the coffee counter.
“Daniel,” I say, slipping behind the counter, “you’re getting a phone call –“
But there’s no one back here. I look around, confused – I definitely just saw Colin and Daniel head this way…
I hear a noise from the storage room, a strange and muffled thump and a moan. I take two steps forward and peek around the door, maybe they both –
Oh my god. Not two feet from me, my boyfriend presses Colin up against the wall of the storage room, one fist wrapped in the fabric of his shirt – kissing him passionately -
Colin’s eyes are closed, his hands fumbling at the button of Daniel’s pants, his belt already undone, whispering his name – my boyfriend’s name –
“Are you kidding me!?” I yell, not even thinking as I hurl the phone at Daniel and his lover.
Both boys jump, leaping apart. “Fay – I – “ Daniel’s face is full of shock. Tears in my eyes, I run from the room and from the coffee shop.
“Fay!” Daniel spills out onto the street behind me. “You don’t understand!” He grabs my arm, pulling me back to him.
“I really like you,” he says, his eyes filled with apology. “You’re amazing - it’s just that my family wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t approve –“
“So what,” I asked, surprised. “You just want me to be your pretend girlfriend!? Sorry,” I rip my arm from his hand. “Not interested.”
“Please, Fay!” Daniel calls after me as I run away. “Please – I can make this right! How much do you want? One million? Three million? I can-" I see him pull the checkbook out of his pocket.
"I don't want your money!" I say, my voice mocking. Daniel blinks and I turn away. "I’ll keep your secret, you don’t need to pay me off. I just don't want to see you again."
And just like that, my fairy tale with Prince Charming was over.
I hurry down the street, my eyes filling with angry tears.
Two hours later, I’m seated at a plastic table in a cinder-block cell, my eyes dried up and my hair tied back in what I hope is a professional look.
My leg jitters with nerves and, I think, a little bit of aftershock. I still can’t believe what Daniel did to me.
But I straighten up in my seat, taking a deep breath. I have to concentrate on my job now, and I’m incredibly nervous about my next assignment.
I’ve only been assigned basic white-collar criminals thus far, but today I have to make an assessment of Kent Lippert, the man known as our city’s Mafia King.
His unmatched cruelty and the unbelievable lengths he takes to protect his power are infamous in this town.
I hear the hallway door clang open and stand up from my chair, pressing my hands against my blazer to straighten it.
This is the most nervous I’ve been since I started this gig.
The guards bring Lippert around the corner and I’m surprised – I expected Lippert to be a fat, old, balding man – the kind of greasy lowlife who belongs in our city’s underworld.
But this man is trim and tall, moving with a kind of dangerous grace. My eyes follow the way his shoulders shift beneath the fabric of his uniform, the way that the guards quail, a little, as they unlock the cuffs on his hands.
I gasp as my eyes finally fall on Lippert’s face, my mouth going dry.
His dark hair falling over his forehead, his square jaw, the deep frown lines etched over green eyes.
OH MY GOD!!
I’ve seen this man before. I saw him today, in a picture on my boyfriend’s phone –
And again, younger, etched in the features of my boyfriend’s own face.
Daniel isn’t just some rich kid. He’s the son of the Mafia King.
“My name is Fay Thompson? I’m here to do your preliminary interview for state psychological assessment?” I said.
“Hello, Fay,” he says, his voice low and hungry as he moves forward and settles into his chair. “Where do we begin?”
I hesitate, settling down in my chair across from this man, sensing that I’m the doe to his wolf.
It feels almost as if he could leap across this table at any moment and gobble me up.
I quirk my head to the side, still staring at Lippert, realizing that this is also why Daniel is hiding his sexuality.
Daniel’s father is Kent Lippert, the Mafia King of our city.
The mafia of our city are notoriously conservative, and family is everything.
Poor Daniel, he’s got to hide everything he loves.
Suddenly, I realize that the man in front of me is smiling, just slightly, his eyes moving over me as I stare at him like a deer in the headlights.
I clench my jaw, reminding myself that he is the villain.
“So,” I say, turning back to my papers, nervous. You’ve done this a thousand times, Fay! I remind myself. You could do this in your sleep! “Can you please state your name for me, and place of birth?”
“I believe,” Lippert says slowly, “That you’re already aware of my history.” He leans back, studying me.
I lift my eyes to glare at his impudence – he’s so rude. But, unfortunately, he’s right. Everyone in this city knows this information. I quickly fill out the form.
I glance up at him, struck again by his similarity to Daniel. The profile, especially, is almost exactly the same – but whereas Daniel is gentle, refined, Kent has a grim, lethal quality to his face.
I drag my gaze away from him, feeling a shiver pass through me, tapping its fingers down my spine. Somehow, I imagine that they’re Kent’s fingers…
I quickly dismiss the thought and focus.
“The rest of the questions that I ask you today will be of a personal and psychological nature,” I say, giving the canned speech I’m required to say to all inmates. “The state does require that you answer all questions fully and honestly as part of the assessment. Do you understand?”
He’s smirking at me, unblinking. “Little girl,” he says, slowly leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “what gives you the right to ask me anything about my history and my mind?”
I sit straight in my chair, unnerved by such a question. “The state has hired me to administer these examinations –“
“Do you have a degree?” he cuts in. “Some kind of…certificate?” The final word is heavy with derision.
I frown at him and reach down to rifle through my bag, producing the certified paperwork from the state which qualifies me for this position.
“Here,” I say, returning his glare. “If you’re so curious.”
I reach across the table to hand it to him.
A second before he grabs my wrist, I realize my mistake.
He snatches my hand, fully capturing it in his, pulling me forward against the table.
It doesn’t quite hurt, but, surprised, I drop the paperwork as I gasp, looking up at him, terrified as he brings my hand close to his face, and then –
Slowly, indulgently, he runs his nose across the ivory skin of my wrist.
“Camomile, lavender,” he murmurs, closing his eyes, indulging in my scent. “So fresh and clean,” he says.
Then he opens his eyes and stares into my bewildered face, wanting to see my reaction as he says, “you must be a virgin.”
My lip trembles in shock, in awe.
His eyes eat me up, savoring the tremble of my lips, my wide, terrified eyes.
A guard flies through the door “Hands off!” he yells, but Kent has already released my wrist, raising his hands over his head, perfectly calm.
“Sorry,” he says, smirking, his eyes on me. “Won’t happen again.”
I blink at him, sitting back in my chair. I straighten my shoulders, unable to take my eyes off him.
“Are you all right, miss?” the guard says, leaning forward to look me over.
“I’m fine,” I say, rubbing my wrist with my other hand. I’m not hurt – just…shocked. I clear my throat and look back down at my papers. “We will…we will proceed.” I work to steel myself, determined to regain control, to finish this interview.
I give Lippert a steady glare, raising my chin. I’m tougher than he thinks I am.
At least, I hope I am.
I pick up my pen again, grateful that my hands aren’t shaking.
“Please,” I say, focusing again on the paper. “Can you tell me about the crime for which you were imprisoned? I see,”
“Your little skirt,” he says, grinning at the fact that he’s riled me so easily, “is also very precious. You have beautiful legs, and it’s the perfect length to –“
“Please, sir,” I repeat, surprised to hear it come out in a shaky little growl. “I demand your respect in this process. Please be aware that what I report today will affect the rest of your time in prison, as well as your chances for early release. So I suggest that you take this process seriously.”
“Darling,” he says, leaning forward. “I couldn’t take you seriously if I tried. “
My mouth falls open and I blink at him, shocked, but it quickly turns to rage.
I slam my hand on the table, but he only laughs harder.
“Sir!” I say. “This is an important process!” I hit the table again for emphasis, my hand stinging.
He just watches my every movement.
“I understand, Doc,” he says. “I’m here, aren’t I? Go ahead. Assess me.” He waves a hand at his body, his powerful muscles, his unyielding gaze.
I stare into his eyes and feel overwhelmed, almost hypnotized by his glare. I dart my eyes away, staring down at the floor – anywhere but at him.
“You looked away first,” he murmurs, studying me. “On the battlefield, this means you’d have died by my hand. Weak.”
Riled, I raise my eyes again to him, determined.
“Good,” he laughs. “I like my girls with a little fight in them.”
God damnit – I feel my nipples go hard under my blazer.
His eyes move to my chest, as if he knows it, the hum in his chest deepening.
I grab my pen again, scrawling words across the paper as fast as I can.
Constantly defiant, ruthlessly sociopathic, no remorse. Recommend continued imprisonment, without parole.
“This is finished.” I say, decided, gathering my papers as fast as I can and shoving them, crinkled, into my bag. I can hear him laughing softly at me as I hurry.
I pound twice on the metal and the guard lets me out.
“Oh, Doctor,” I hear his voice echo behind me.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I turn to hear his parting words.
“I’ll see you on the outside,” he says, giving me a dark smirk. “You can count on it.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” I murmur, my voice trembling as the guard opens the door and I storm out.
My paperwork recommends his eternal imprisonment.
As far as I’m concerned, I’ll never see him again, and good riddance.
When I got home, my sister and father were eating.
I take the final steps down into the kitchen and give dad a kiss on the cheek, sitting down in the chair next to him.
“Come down to the club with me,” Janeen says, reaching out and taking my hand. “I’m not working tonight, and we can go have some fun! We’ll get free drinks and you can meet the girls!”
I look up at her, hesitating. I love Janeen, but we live in totally different worlds.
While I’ve spent my life at school and coffee shops, Janeen has been a night owl, working at various clubs as a stripper.
She’s very talented, and she makes a ton of money.
“Come onnnn” she whines. “We’ll get you more in touch with your body, get your blood flowing.” She dances in her chair, showing us some of her moves, ending with a sexy flick of her long purple hair.
I laugh. Janeen has such an effervescent personality, it’s hard not to want to go wherever she’s going. “I’ll think about it,” I say, finishing my plate. “I’ve got some work to do –“
“Work work,” she says, rolling her eyes and scooping up her plate and mine. “You work way too much. Have some fun, baby!”
I roll my eyes at her and pat dad on the shoulder as I head into the living room. He picks up his paper, eyes already on the sports section.
In the living room, I open my laptop and open a search engine.
My cheeks grow red and I find myself – bizarrely – typing Kent Lippert into the search bar.
I’m surprised by the results. The news channel that dad watches every night calls Lippert the Mafia King, always detailing his dirty deeds, but the sites I’m looking show him standing in front of a tech company in Silicon Valley, calling him the CEO.
Another site lists positive reviews of his many businesses, with employees suggesting that he’s a great boss. Still another…god, is that Brad Pitt he’s shaking hands with in that photo?
“Whatcha looking at?” Janeen says, flopping onto the couch and grabbing the laptop out of my hands.
“Hey!” I say, snatching at it. “Janeen, give it back!”
“Oooohhhh,” she says, scrolling through the photos of Kent on the page. “Now this is a hottie who could light a little fire under me, for sure,” she says, nodding appreciatively. “Who is this guy?”
“Kent Lippert,” I say, hugging my knees to my chest. “I had to interview him at the prison the other day. He was…unnerving.”
Janeen flicks her eyes to me, considering. “Did he scare you?”
I shrug. “A little.”
She narrows her eyes a bit, snapping the laptop shut. “Okay, that’s it. You’re coming out with me tonight, baby Fay,” she says, coming across the couch to give me a big hug. “You’ve had a hard week with your gay boyfriend and scary Mafia King. You’ve got to have some fun!”
I laugh, letting her wrap me up. “Okay, okay! Geeze, I’ll come.”
The music pounds in the club and, I have to admit, I’m really starting to have fun.
“You having fun, baby Fay?” she asks, giving me a wide, inviting smile. I can’t help but smile back.
“Yes,” I say, laughing. But then Janeen stiffens next to me. There’s a man standing across the VIP area, his arms crossed, staring at her. As I look, he starts to walk over.
Janeen gets quickly to her feet, reaching out her arms to wrap this big fat potato of a man in a hug.
“Dean!” she says, and I can tell her voice is falsely cheerful. “How you been, gorgeous?”
“Janeen,” he says, pushing her way from him. “We’ve got to talk.”
“Have you met my little sister, Fay?” she asks, gesturing towards me with a big smile. “Fay, this is Mike Dean, an old friend. He’s the manager of the club.”
Dean’s eyes rove over me, taking in the generous portion of my thigh exposed by this little dress. Uncomfortable, I try to tug it down lower with my fist.
“Um, hello,” I say, hesitant.
He takes Janeen by her elbow. “Come on,” he says. “We’re going to talk around back.”
“Okay,” Janeen murmurs, suddenly serious. She leans down to whisper to me. “It’s just work stuff, don’t worry.” I give her a little smile and nod.
With that, Janeen follows Dean into the back.
They’re gone for a long time.
Anxiously, I run my hand over the underwire of my bra, feeling the tiny switch blade that I’ve hidden there.
The only possession my mother left to me in her will.
Half an hour more and the door opens. Dean come out of it but my stomach drops.
Where’s my sister?
“Janeen’s sister, right?”
“Yes?”
“She got sick,” he says. “She’s just throwing up, but she’s a little green around the gills right now,” he says, gesturing towards his own neck.
I stand and turn towards the staff door, intending to go find my sister, but he stops me.
“No, listen,” he says, “she won’t want you to see her like this. Come with me, I’ll take you some place where you can wait more comfortably.” He pulls me forward.
I totter after him, confused and worried, as he pulls me quickly across the club to a black door, pushing it open.
The inside is barely lit – a dark room with mirrors on the ceiling and tiny pinpricks of light coming up from the floor.
“Wait here for a bit,” Dean says, looking beyond me. “I’ll have someone bring you a drink. Your sister will be fine soon.” Then, he walks away.
Someone does bring me a drink and I take a sip of it, but then, realizing that it might be laced with something, I push it away from me. As my eyes adjust, I look around the room and realize that I’m not alone in here.
Bodies, mostly in couples, writhe together on the black velvet seating. Some of them are dancing, but some…well, that girl is on her knees. My eyes go wide as I realize what she is doing.
I jump to my feet, blushing and heading for the door.
As soon as I reach it, though, Dean comes through it again.
“Where you going, baby?” he says, rubbing a hand up and down my arm.
Instinctually, I jerk my arm away from him.
Dean keeps moving towards me, but for every step he takes, I take one backwards. Soon, I feel myself bump into a table behind me.
He presses up against me. There’s nowhere else to go.
“You’d better be a good girl for me,” Dean whispers, his hot breath on my face. “Or else your sister’s gonna pay. She owes me a lot of money. Tonight, you’re going to work some of it off.”
I’m scared to death, a little whimper escaping my mouth.
“Do you mind?” The voice drawls from behind Dean. “That’s my psychotherapist you’re harassing there.”
|