Kasien
The space smells like expensive perfumes and money.
I’m standing in the meeting room next to our bodyguard while Rick and Sylvia sit at the table, sliding a suitcase of money across to another couple from the Vermilion Organization.
The conversation is muffled in my head.
I’ve gotten so numb to these meetings. They’ve been dragging me everywhere since I grew into this height, telling me it’s time for me to get into the business and making me their fucking lackey at every damn meeting. In hotels, in dark clubs, in some private meeting rooms like this one.
The last year of my life has gotten awfully dark. I don’t even remember the last time I could run around the lake with Adrien and Natalya.
There’s just no time for that anymore.
When Sylvia doesn’t drag me along to be her companion at some event, introducing me to strange people, then she makes me go to all the physical classes.
My body is almost numb to the pain since it’s so sore all the time, and I’ve learned to ignore it.
She’s even started dragging Adrien along with us. But it’s so much worse. He’s like her servant, carrying stuff and opening doors for her while she’s introducing me as her dear son, her pride and heir.
I’m fucking fifteen, for God’s sake.
At least I think I am.
I’ve never celebrated a birthday since I was adopted. They never got my birth certificate, so they actually don’t know when it is.
All I know is that it’s sometime in the beginning of winter. I remember my last birthday cake from my mom when I turned eight. It was the first snow that day.
My chest tightens with that memory. It means I could be sixteen any day now.
I cross my arms over my chest, my foot tapping on the floor as I’m losing patience. This meeting is taking forever. I don’t even care what it’s about. I’m just glad she’s not making me sit with them. I actually feel much better right here, standing next to Bryan, our main bodyguard.
As I stare at the backs of my adoptive parents’ heads, sitting there like ducks, I’m thinking about pulling out my gun and making my first official kill.
But I swallow the thought and sink my hands in my pockets instead, glancing down at myself. I’m wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans. Sylvia gave me a deadly look when she saw me earlier, since she’s always making me wear a shirt. But I feel ridiculous in a shirt, so here we are.
They finally finish and get up from their chairs, the wood screeching against the floor. I snap out of my thoughts and open the door for them, excited to go home.
I haven’t slept for two days straight. I couldn’t. Sylvia made me watch an interrogation of a man who somehow betrayed the Varners.
I vomited after that.
Adrien gave me some pills today, so I’ll finally sleep.
We walk through a dark, narrow hall, Sylvia’s heels clacking on the shiny floor.
Her perfume makes me sick.
Everything about her makes me sick.
Adrien is waiting outside by the car, already holding it open for Sylvia as we step through the huge glass doors.
He has another black eye. I’m not sure what he did this time. I’ve gotten so used to him being beaten up that I don’t ask anymore. He seems too unbothered with it anyway.
My body melts into the leather seat, while I sadly watch Adrien getting into a different car than us.
The city is alive today. Lights everywhere, bars full of people, restaurants busy. The car doesn’t take the usual route, turning right toward another valley of glassy skyscrapers.
“Are we not going home yet?” I ask, the lack of sleep obvious in my voice.
“Not yet, honey. I need you to meet someone.” Her voice is so ridiculously sweet, almost covering the rot inside her.
The car stops in a dark alley full of other shiny luxury cars and we head to some club.
I hate clubs.
I was supposed to learn about this the normal way—sneaking out of my room in the evening, meeting my friends and going clubbing with fake IDs, getting drunk, and then sneaking back to our homes in the early morning.
But no, I got to know it differently—dark private strip rooms smelling like cash, girls twice my age with huge boobs almost dripping out of their corsets, and VIP booths with lines of coke I would never touch.
We walk through the hall, descending the stairs to the VIP section as Sylvia instructs me.
“You’re finally gonna meet Lucien Devereaux and his son. He’s a bit older than you. Remember, his father is one of the highest-ranking men in Vermilion. You need to make a good impression.”
I barely hear her as we get to the VIP section and the music is banging so loud it hurts my ears. We get to a booth with three men already sitting in it.
One is quite old, blonde hair slicked backwards. Next to him is probably his son. He instantly lifts his hand and introduces himself.
“Lucien. Nice to finally meet you, you must be Kasien.”
What? He’s named Lucien too?
Jesus Christ, can this be any more ridiculous?
Even his light blond hair is slicked back the same way as his old folk’s.
He’s much bigger than me. He must be eighteen at least. I try to be as polite as possible, sitting next to them.
“So, you’re the Varner boy,” he smirks and lifts his glass. “You look younger than I expected.”
He’s pissing me off already.
“You look like you copy your father’s haircut,” I say and gesture to the girl with drinks to bring me the same he has.
Lucien lifts an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk. Sylvia gives me a short death stare, then gets back to her old friend.
“Bold,” Lucien mumbles.
“Not really, just honest.”
Lucien leans backward, relaxing on the sofa, still staring at me, while I stare at the dancers.
“So do they make you sit through the negotiations too?”
I turn to him, checking the vibe.
“Every single one,” I respond quietly, the annoyance in my voice very obvious.
Lucien lifts his drink just when the girl brings me mine.
“Cheers to being raised for shit we didn’t ask for,” he says with a weird hint of sentiment in his voice.
I hesitantly lift my glass and clink it with his, not giving him an answer.
We may have shit in common but that doesn’t mean we’re going to be friends.
He looks like a snake. Also like those popular jocks from high school teen movies.
We swap some words here and there, both of us visibly bored and wanting to be somewhere else. Rick left and didn’t come back, and Sylvia is disgustingly close with Lucien’s father.
Lucien is already by the bar, flirting with some girl who is way too old for him. I take a long sip of my second drink, the alcohol burning my lungs in a relaxing way while my eyes get stuck on the girl dancing around the pole.
Confusion runs through me as her almost naked body does nothing to me. Shouldn’t my hormones be at their peak right now? I watch porn but that’s different. Adrien already fucked someone and he couldn’t shut up about it.
I don’t really feel like doing it. I’ve never met any girls I like. My therapist keeps trying to connect it to what happened to my mom, while I just stare at the wall until the session ends, unable to talk about it.
I run a hand through my hair, not realizing how zoned out I am staring at the girl swinging around the pole.
“You need to get that virgin look off your face, Kasien. You’re supposed to be a man already,” Sylvia snaps at me when a wave of revulsion runs through my spine.
What the fuck.
Why is she talking about that?
Jesus.
That’s so fucking weird.
I give her a look of pure disgust, fighting the urge to smash her head on that table.
“No problem, let’s get it off right now,” that old motherfucker Devereaux says and laughs so hard that some of the slicked hair on his head stands up.
What the hell is he talking about?
He gestures to the dancer and takes a thick bundle of cash out of his back pocket, handing it to her.
“Take a room, honey,” he mumbles, gesturing to her.
Fuck no.
What are they doing?
My throat tightens so much I can’t talk. I give him a death stare instead.
What did he just do?
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say and look at Sylvia, wanting to rip her head off.
“Jesus, Kasien, don’t make a big deal out of it. Go,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I could kill her right here, if I just… no.
“I don’t want to,” I grit out, my voice getting deeper than I expected.
Sylvia leans into my ear so I’m the only one who can hear her.
“Stop embarrassing me or I’m sending that dog of yours on the streets.”
Adrien? Fucking hell.
She leans back to her sofa, smiling like nothing happened. I stare at her for a moment, frozen.
Then she gives me one final quick look and I just know I don’t have a choice.
I get up, and the girl patiently waiting by the sofa starts walking toward the back of the club as I follow her.
A lump rises in my throat. I’m gulping over and over and it’s not going away.
We’re walking through a dark corridor with dark red LED lights on the floor, passing doors that are quiet, then suddenly there are noises and grunting from one of them. I have to clench my fist and press it to my mouth to stop the urge to vomit.
Shit. I can do this, can I?
I fucking can’t.
She stops in front of the last door in the corridor, opening it for me.
In the room, I stand like an idiot, one hand in my pocket and the other still fisted in front of my mouth. The girl, who is definitely twice my age, has boobs almost bigger than my head. Otherwise she’s quite small, even with those seven-inch heels.
I don’t like her. I don’t think I can do this.
Jesus, I want to get out of here.
She opens some sachet, then makes two lines of coke on the small table by the bed.
“Take one,” she says, gesturing to me, and I just shake my head.
She needs to drug herself to do this?
I don’t fucking like this.
The walls of the room are getting smaller.
She comes to me and rests her hand on my chest, gently pushing me toward the bed, then pushing me more to sit down. She stands between my legs and takes off my sweatshirt together with the T-shirt under it.