Chapter Five-Buddha #2
“You see, Dior pigs are nasty mothafuckas. Personally, I have no idea why people even consume pork. Shit is beyond fucking disgusting to me. Do you know why?” This may have sounded like a question, but it really wasn’t.
“It’s because pigs eat anything,” as I said that, I tossed Jamieson’s hand inside the pig pen. Those fat bastards didn’t waste any time; they waddled their fat asses over and began gnawing at their late-night snack.
“Oh, my God, Buddha,” Dior said with disgust, covering her mouth as she looked away.
I enjoyed her reaction. I liked the way her face paled and the way she looked like she was about to throw up. I bent again, this time picking up one of Jamieson’s legs and tossed that bad boy in there also.
“These fuckers leave nothing behind, not even bone; they eat all that shit,” I elaborated as I watched the animals in fascination as they tore into the human limbs. The sound of Dior vomiting shifted my attention from the pigs. She leaned over the wooden barriers and threw up again and again.
One of the pigs strolled over and began eating her vomit. Yeah, I had no clue why people ate pork. Realizing that Dior got the point, I walked over and grabbed her arm.
“Look at me, Dior,” I demanded. With her tear-soaked brown eyes, she lifted them at me.
“Now, tell me. Are you going to try that shit again? Are you going to try to run away in the middle of the night again, disturbing my sleep?” I asked, using my knuckles to brush away a tear from her cheek.
“No.”
“I’m sorry, what’s that?”
“No, Buddha.”
“That’s my good girl. Now let’s go,” I reached for her hand so that I could lead her out of the pig farm. First thing in the morning, I would be back to finish feeding Jamieson to the pigs. The walk back to my house was quiet. Mostly because Dior was in shock by what she saw. She was numb.
As we walked into the house, Lotus began barking at her. She knew what Dior did, and she knew it was wrong; she barked to let me know.
“Enough, Lotus. Go lie down,” she hesitantly did as she was told and walked over to her bed. Taking Dior into the bathroom, I removed the chair she used to help her escape. When I got rid of the clothing in the garbage bag, I would burn this chair right along with it.
“Go shower,” I told her, standing in the room waiting for her to do as she was told.
Dior’s movements were robotic as she stripped off the t-shirt I gave her.
For once, she didn’t try to hide from me.
She took off her clothes and got in the shower, doing as she was asked.
I ignored the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“Come on, let’s go,” I said after five minutes of her showering. Silently, she turned off the water, and I handed her a towel. Drying herself in my presence, she waited for her next instruction.
“The clothes I brought you this morning. There’s a sweatsuit in there, go put it on,” Dior remained quiet as she walked into the bedroom and opened the drawer where the clothing given to her was neatly folded.
After finding the sweatsuit I requested, she got a pair of panties, put them on, and slipped into the baby-pink sweatsuit.
Never once did I look away as she dressed.
Dior had the sexiest physique, I swear, I’d ever seen.
She had the cutest birthmark on her right ass cheek.
“Get your shoes on and let’s go.” Taking a black t-shirt from my drawer, I put it on, irritated that I had to be dealing with this bull-shit at this time of night. Grabbing the key fob for my Bugatti, I began making my way to the front door. I stopped to put a pair of sneakers on my feet.
“Where are you taking me?” Dior found her voice again as we made our way to the car. I said nothing as I opened the door for her to get in. Getting behind the wheel, I sighed heavily as I started the engine.
“Where are you taking me?” Dior asked for the second time.
“La stanza buia, (the dark room),” I answered her question purposely in Italian. Dior got a look that said she was trying to remember where she had heard that name before.
“I’ve heard you say that before. Where is that?”
“That’s because you’ve been there before,” I said, taking my phone so I could call Lorenzo. I had a job for him.
“Are you seriously going to leave me in here?” Dior said after we got to the main house, and I led her to the dark room, placing her on the chair.
“Was there any time I wasn’t serious?” I asked her as I got ready to leave.
“Buddha, I said I was sorry. You can’t lock me away in here,” Dior begged, grabbing at my t-shirt as she tried following me. I quickly turned to face her.
“Where did I just put you? Go sit to fuck down. You wanted to play stupid games, right? You know what they say, play stupid games, and win stupid prizes. Lorenzo will be behind that door at all times. He’ll see about your needs, and just in case you try some stupid shit again.
He has full instructions to put a bullet in your head, I could give a fuck.
I’ll be back to get you on the day of our wedding. ”
Saying nothing else, I walked out of the room and closed the door. I nodded at Lorenzo, who nodded back at me.
“Buddha! You can’t fucking leave me in here!” Dior yelled as she pounded her fists against the metal door, which automatically locked from the outside once it was closed. “I’ll never fucking marry! You hear me, you half-Italian asshole…never!”
I looked at Lorenzo as he tried to suppress his laughter. He bent his head, pinching between his eyes before looking at me.
“Just in case you need a reminder. You’ve got a petardo, (firecracker), my friend,” Lorenzo said, giving me a sympathetic pat on my shoulder.
“Tell me about it,” I said, walking away so I could take my ass to sleep. This night had been long as fuck. Snow was right, I did meet my match.
*****
“How else will we know if the wedding dress fits, Phillipe?” I looked at my mother, holding the Balenciaga gown, and wanted to scream so fucking badly. I grabbed my forehead, aggravated that I had to have this stupid ass conversation with my mother.
“Because I just know it will,” I answered her dumb ass question, rubbing my temples.
I had to marry Dior tomorrow, and I’ve never felt so stressed in all my fucking life. After Dior’s escape stunt, I had to let my father know what she did and that she was now banished to the dark room. My father told me I did what was best and that he trusted my judgment.
My mother wasn’t too keen on me locking Dior away; she told me there were other ways I could have dealt with it.
It was safe to say that Dior had somehow won my mother over.
She didn’t push too much because she knew to let Ricci men do what was needed.
Now that the wedding was almost here, all my mother had been doing was planning for the bull-shit.
“I think you should bring her up and have her try it on so I can be the judge,” my head snapped back at what my mother said. She must have lost her mind. I looked over at my father as we sat in the living room of the main house.
“Can you talk to your wife, please?” I suggested taking a sip of the bourbon I had in my hand. My father turned to my mother and gave her a look. She immediately threw her hands up in defeat.
“Fine, have that girl looking crazy on the biggest day of her life,” my mother pushed the wedding dress to the side as if she was truly offended. I frowned at her disappointed face.
“You do know that this wedding isn’t real and Dior and I aren’t really in love…right?” I asked her just to be sure she remembered why this was happening.
“Phillipe, there will be our business partners in attendance. A farce wedding or not, everything needs to look legit.” My mother looked at her manicured nails as she spoke.
“Victoria’s right, Buddha. At least take the dress down to Dior and have her try it on. There’s nowhere for her to run in the dark room,” I looked at my father, not at all surprised. He sided with my mother. My father would agree if my mother said the sky was green and the grass was blue.
Knowing that I was defeated, I tilted my head back as I threw the remainder of alcohol down my throat. Getting up, I poured myself another drink before I walked to my mother. Saying absolutely nothing, I took up the Balenciaga gown protected in the bridal bag and began walking away.
“Thank you, dear, snap a picture of her so I can see if the dress needs adjusting,” I snorted at the back of my throat. I didn’t care if this dress fitted Dior like a mothafucking parachute. I was about to tell my mother it fit like a dream.
With the dress draped over my left arm and my glass of bourbon in my right hand.
I made my way to where Dior was being kept.
I low-key couldn’t wait to see her. I hadn’t checked in on her since putting her in the room.
I would contact Lorenzo to ask how she was doing.
He would come to my house, and I gave him clothes for her to wear, but that was it.
I cut all contact with her, until now. There was a toilet and something resembling a shower in the dark room, where she could attend to her personal hygiene.
Descending the stairs, I walked until I saw Lorenzo seated in front of the door. He stood up when he saw me, confused at what I was doing there.
“How is she?” I asked unenthusiastically.
“She’s not too bad today. She only threatened me twice.” Hearing Lorenzo say that, I couldn’t help but laugh. Dior sure was fiery.
“I guess it was a good day then. Why don’t you take a twenty-minute break? I got it for now,” I patted his shoulder before I grabbed the door handle and opened it. Lorenzo nodded, wasting no time to excuse himself.
Making my way inside, my eyes found Dior, who was lying on a makeshift bed, curled up in a fetal position. She looked up when she heard me enter the dimly lit room. She sat up slowly when she realized it was me and not Lorenzo.