Chapter Six #2
Except sometimes I get in my feelings, break that deal, and have to act fast before the symptoms kick in, especially when I forget to take my pre-workout albuterol. Like I’m doing right now.
Noticing a scar above his left pec, I lean in and brush my thumb over it. “What happened here?”
“Stab wound. A deal went bad.” He lifts his left arm, revealing another raised scar woven into his ink. “Got clipped here, too.”
“Battle scars. A proven survivor.” I run my fingers over that one as well. “But I’m still going to be the last one standing after the apocalypse.”
He laughs.
“Gio!” Stefano barks from across the gym. “Come spot me.”
I glance over to see him glaring.
“Is it me he hates?” I whisper to Gio. “Or does he just not like sharing his friends?”
Gio chuckles and gives me the universal so-so hand gesture. “Hey, I’m going to be without a workout partner next week while he’s traveling, so hit me up if you need a spotter...or just company.”
“I’m not always lifting,” I say. “What if I want us to go running? Or play tennis?”
He spreads his arms, walking backward. “Call me. I’ll be more than happy to be active with you.”
I flash him a smile. Breast men are so easy.
With a wink, he turns and heads toward his moody boss.
But said moody boss continues glaring at me.
Throwing my hands up in surrender, I grab my things, and leave.
~
BACK AT THE Pink House, I’m ambling down the long hallway to my room, Stefano’s rejection still a dull sting under my skin, when someone calls, “Raya? Is that you?”
I stop and glance over my shoulder to see a dolled-up woman hurrying toward me. Only as she gets closer do I recognize her. Louisa. The gabby Latina I roomed with back at Vivienne’s.
“Dios mio, it is you!” She throws her arms around me like we’re longtime friends. “They went back for you? When did you get in?”
Although I’ve been here for over two weeks now, this is the first time we’ve crossed paths. Most of the girls work nights, well into dawn, which means they sleep through the day. When they’re up and about, I’m usually at Black Gold with Lorenzo. By the time I get back, they’re already gone.
“It’s so good to see you, Louisa! I was wondering when I’d run into you.” I return her hug, slipping effortlessly into the heavily accented, girly-girl persona she met back at Vivienne’s. “You look amazing. Magnifique!”
Louisa is so glowed-up she’s almost unrecognizable. Heavy make-up. Fresh blowout and extensions. Long manicured nails. Designer clothes. Most importantly, she looks happy. A far cry from the hopeless girl who spent her nights bawling her eyes out.
“Si, dios mio, it’s so good here! Everything. Muy bien. They take good care of us.” She hooks her arm through mine. “But tell me. What happened? I didn’t even know you were here! Where are you assigned?”
Despite my protests that I’m sweaty and need a shower, she drags me down the opposite hall to her room, gabbing nonstop. Barely giving me a chance to answer all the questions she’s firing off.
Eventually, I give up trying to escape and just let her. She’s deliriously happy, and that’s all that matters.
I’ll never fully understand the sense of reprieve these women feel being here. Or what this place truly means to them. Because I’m not one of them. Not here for anything even remotely the same reason.
Louisa prattles on until a chime echoes throughout the house, followed by an intercom announcement:
All on schedule for tonight’s shift, be downstairs in fifteen minutes for the shuttle.
She bolts up from the bed. “Oh, mierda, I have to get ready!”
We agree to hang out again soon, and I head to my room. Luca is still MIA, so I take the opportunity to fish out my waterproof packet from its hiding place inside the toilet tank and pull out my burner phone.
Luca’s constant babysitting has kept me from checking in with my team all week.
I power on the phone and call Wren.
He answers on the first ring. “Hey, Ray.”
“You sound like shit.”
He laughs, but it’s strained. “Feel like it, too.”
A familiar beeping hums in the background. “Wait… are you in med care?”
He groans. “Something like that.”
“What happened?”
His silence stretches on too long. “Don’t make me ask again, Wren.”
He exhales heavily. “Your dad. He found us. Beat the shit out of me.”
Shit. Too soon.
“How long do I have?” I ask. “Let’s put the Sevyn plan in motion. Buy some time, get him to back off.”
“No need. He’s not coming for you.”
It takes a beat for that to register. “What do you mean?”
“There was an emergency scare with your mom. She collapsed.”
My pulse quickens.
“She’s fine now,” he quickly adds. “On bed rest.”
A slow breath leaves me. “Thanks, Wren.”
“Before he left, he said he’d give you time to do what you need to do and come home. But with one rule: you can point, but you can’t show. Break that rule, and he will die.”
“Wow, I…did not expect that.”
“Well, you know how he is about your mom. Nothing comes above her.”
Oh, I know all too well.
Wren exhales. “He also made it clear that if anything happens to you in there, we’re all dead.” He pauses. “They are all dead.”
“No one delivers a threat quite like dear old Dad.”
Wren’s voice tightens. “This is serious, Ray. Please be careful with them. I know how you get when your emotions run high, so just…please.”
“I will.” Easier said than done. “I promise.”
~
LATER THAT NIGHT, I’m lounging on the bedroom balcony, staring out at the vast nothingness of the desert, when a knock sounds at the door.
At first, I think it’s Luca, but he never knocks. Just barges in.
I pad across the room and swing it open. A kitchen staff member stands at the threshold with a dome-covered silver tray.
“I think you have the wrong room,” I say. “I didn’t request anything.”
“Mr. Castello did.”
Oh. “Uh…” I take the tray. “Thanks.”
He nods and leaves.
I knee the door shut then carry the tray out to the balcony, setting it down on the round wicker table. When I lift the lid, a laugh flies out of me.
Mystery solved.
“How do you want to die, little girl?”
“Over a dish of sickly-sweet blueberry bread pudding. With a shot of Beluga vodka on the side.”
That’s exactly what’s on the tray. A dish of mouthwatering blueberry bread pudding, with a shot glass of clear liquor on the side.
I pick up the shot glass and pass it under my nose.
Clean. Crisp. Neat. A faint hint of sweetness.
Yep. Beluga.
I pick up my phone and snap a picture, then attach it to a text for Lorenzo.
Me: Is this my last supper?
Almost ten minutes pass before he responds.
Lorenzo: I left you alone for one day. What happened?
Me: I breathed your brother’s air, I guess.
A voice note comes through. I press play.
Lorenzo (voice note): “Look, just stay put for the rest of the night, yeah? We’ve been tied up with a situation all day, so keeping you alive is on the back burner right now.
Me: Anything I can help with?
Lorenzo (voice note): “No. Just stay out of Stefano’s way. Unless you want that to be your last meal.”
Me: *thumbs up emoji*
Laughing to myself, I knock back the vodka, then take my time savoring the bread pudding. My dad makes the best blueberry bread pudding, but this? This is so damn scrumptious, I want to meet the chef.
Once I’ve lapped up every last crumb, I snap a picture of the empty dish and scroll down to the number that came preprogrammed in my phone…
Stefano Castello (EMERGENCIES ONLY)
A blatant threat on my life qualifies as an emergency…right?
I attach the photo and type out a text.
Me: It was delicious. Thanks.
Five minutes pass. No response.
Me: When is the main event?
Wishful thinking to believe he would actually entertain me.
But nearly half an hour later…he does.
Stefano: I see you have no respect for rules.
Me: You wouldn’t consider a ‘last supper’ gift an open threat on your life? That’s an emergency.
Stefano: Sleep well, rule breaker.
Me: Should I? Or should I try to escape?
Stefano: Consider me a sated cat for now. I’ll hunt when I’m hungry. [attached: 019824_img.jpg]
I tap the attached image.
A dish of half-eaten blueberry bread pudding, a full shot glass of vodka untouched beside it.
Wait. He’s having my ‘last supper,’ too?
Why is my twisted brain wanting to recognize this as…a date?
If the patio set in the background is any indication, he’s also on a balcony somewhere.
I glance out into the darkness, but the view from this side of the house offers nothing but the rear grounds and the wilderness beyond.
Me: I’ll sleep well then. I appreciate the mercy.
And when I finally climb into bed an hour later, a delusional grin on my face…
I do sleep well.
Really well.