6. Vi
CHAPTER 6
VI
I open the motel door and hold my breath. I almost close my eyes to brace for gunshots, but nothing happens.
Three women straighten in front of me. Plastic smiles grace their expressions.
Four tattooed men in black suits stand behind them, staring at me.
I peer over my shoulder at Uncle Jay, making sure he sees this too. It’s not just the stylists. The actual yakuza are here too.
The first woman, a blonde, blinks rapidly. “Hi. Are you Vivian Petrus?”
I nod. “And you are?—”
“Please come with us.”
They drag me to the Bellagio, and it’s a whirlwind of bathing, clothes, makeup, and blow dryers. By the time I reemerge, it’s the early evening, and I’m literally a pampered doll. The blonde stylist leads me to a set of angled mirrors so I can see my entire outfit, and for the millionth time today, I gasp.
A shiny champagne dress fits my frame. The bodice is sheer, and there’s a high slit, showing off my freckled legs. The color is so close to my skin tone that if it wasn’t for the shininess of the material, I’d look naked. It’s elegant, but there’s a promiscuous quality to it too, and there’s no trace of the woman I was this morning, no hints the yakuza had kept me in a cell while they cut and beat my uncle.
I look like I belong in a fashion magazine, like I could actually be a crime boss’s wife.
I turn to the blonde stylist. “You said he picked out this outfit?”
She nods. “He picked out several outfits, but this is the one I thought would fit you best.”
I’m barely able to accept it’s me. The column silhouette is so flattering, I imagine I’m a celebrity on the red carpet. The dress is sleeveless, completely exposing my swan-like neck. A faint shimmer powder decorates my tattoo, as if my candle was touched by a mermaid. My hair is wrapped in an updo with a few loose strands around my face.
I snap a picture in the mirror, then send it to Uncle Jay.
You’re going to kill it, Vi, Uncle Jay says. Patrick says you’re hot.
It weirds me out when Patrick says stuff like that, even if we’re not that related. I guess my mom and Patrick’s mom were third cousins or something, but they’re both gone now, and it’s just us. Uncle Jay, Patrick, and me.
And yet, right now, I’m alone. I’m the only one who has to do this.
A man in a black suit waits at the corner of the mirrors.
“Miss Petrus,” he says. “I work for Mr. Watanabe. I’ll escort you to the car.” I open my mouth to question him, but he continues. “Please follow me.”
He turns so quickly I have to lift the edges of my dress and hurry to catch him. Then I notice the other black-suited men following us. On the way out of the building, I spot an exit off to the side, hidden between two stores.
I can still run.
But Uncle Jay and Patrick are counting on me, and after all they’ve done for me?
This is our last job. I have to do this.