M.M. Morgan
Chapter Six: Present
My stilettos sink into the rotting wood floor of the bar. A greasy film of sloshed beer and peanut shells covering every plank. The sound of rattling billiard balls somewhere in the smoky depths is complemented by classic rock playing over the speakers.
My spine straightens. This isn’t a place for women. That much is obvious; it’s the complete opposite of The Cameo. That annoying prickle of sobriety starts at my scalp as I realize I’m going to need to get a lot higher to get through tonight.
When I take a step away from the group, Dante’s hand immediately shoots out and snatches my elbow. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I stare daggers at his hand on me, waiting for him to remove it before I deign to respond. “The bathroom. I need to powder my nose.”
He lowers his voice so the other two men won’t hear, “If you run, I will catch you.”
I pat his chest condescendingly. “I’m shaking with fear. If you don’t trust me, then why don’t you come hold my hand while I piss? You know the buddy system is important, stranger danger is a real threat.”
He’s unamused by my joke. “You’ve got five minutes.”
“I’ll be done in three.”
I pull my coat tighter around my body as I push through the crowd toward the restroom. It’s a dimly lit communal toilet with a yellow sink and cracked mirror. The look of it doesn’t matter, I just need a moment of privacy.
As soon as the door is locked behind me, I press my back to it and dig through my clutch, searching for my contact case. Where the fuck is it? The muscles in my arms begin to twitch. “Are you kidding me? This bag isn’t that big!”
Without a second thought, I dump the contents of my bag on the dirty sticky linoleum, scarcely missing a suspicious yellow puddle by the wall. I push around the items until they’re fanned out. Apartment key, fake ID, lipstick, cash, gum, random change, a crumpled post-it note… Where is my fucking contact case?
The thunder in my chest is so powerful that my whole body begins to tremble. I crack each of my fingers before scraping them down my thighs as the clammy symptoms of withdrawal hit me harder now that I know I don’t have the means to fix it. With a furious growl, I stuff everything haphazardly back into my clutch and throw the restroom door open. Immediately, I collide into a big hard chest.
“Damn it!” I groan, stumbling back as I cradle the bridge of my nose.
Dante clicks his tongue. “That was more than five minutes.”
“You broke my nose!” I cry out in frustration. This night couldn’t possibly get worse.
“Your nose is fine,” he says with cool indifference before pulling his hand out of his pocket, shaking my white and blue contact case in front of me. The rattle of pills inside is accusingly loud. “Looking for this?” Dante turns the case over in his hand, examining it. “You dropped it when we left your apartment earlier. I was wondering when you’d notice it was gone.”
I stick out my hand. “Give it back.”
He tucks it back into his pocket. “I think I’ll hold onto it.”
I lunge for him, but he’s quicker and grabs my wrists, forcing me back into the restroom before I can make a scene. “Let go of me!”
Dante releases my wrists, and I take a shaky step back, fighting the desperation to attack him for my pills. His lip curls up, his nose scrunching in disgust. “When did this start?”
“What?” I laugh at his audacity.
“The drugs, Rose.” He spits the words like poison.
I raise my chin defiantly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He scoffs, crossing his arms until they bulge over his chest. “I know an addict when I see one.”
White splotches fill my vision, sound vacant from my perception. Too many memories flash passed and I can’t keep up with their dizzying pace. “I’m not an addict.”
“Right, and the nosebleed you got on your way home last night wasn’t from the coke you snorted.”
What. The. Fuck.
My eyes widen as it finally dawns on me. “You were the guy who followed me home last night.”
“You’re putting that together now?” He shakes his head out of disappointment. “Thought you were smarter than that, my mistake.”
“First of all, screw you. Secondly, if you want me to entertain the rat out there, then you better hand over my case.”
He stares at me, blinking slowly as if I’d asked him to move the moon. There’s a part of me that recognizes the irony of this situation, that small part is almost ashamed. The woman he used to love now sharing the same fate as his mother.
Dante stands suddenly and pulls the contact case out of his pocket. Relief washes over me as I stretch my hand out impatiently. However, that relief goes to shit, watching helplessly as he unscrews the caps and dumps the pills into the brown toilet water.
I’m too stunned to speak as I wonder how disgusting it would be to fish them out. I could probably just rinse them off in the sink—
He flushes the toilet.
A shadow casts over me as he invades my personal space. “Don’t ever ask that of me again.”
His tone is chilling, and if I wasn’t already in shell shock, any retort would have died on my tongue.
It’s like watching him on the other side of a screen as my eyes track his movement. He grabs a paper towel and wipes off my lipstick before messing up my hair. Seemingly pleased with the result, Dante steps back and partially unzips the fly of his slacks.
“Out,” he barks once the restroom doors open.
I watch the scene unfold, disconnected from my body like someone flipped the wrong light switch and couldn’t be bothered to turn it back on.
Dante made a show of rezipping his fly once we were back in the presence of the Konta brothers. The two lousy men smile like they’re in on our little secret.
Vio wraps an arm around my shoulders, shaking me. “You two were gone for a bit, huh?”
Dante gives me a warning look as he waits for my reply. I won’t give him the benefit of seeing me squirm. Tilting my head to the side, I wipe the corner of my mouth with my thumb. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting, Dante was helping me scratch an itch in my throat.” I look up at Vio as I slowly suck my thumb clean. “It was really deep.”
The rat preens under my flirtation. “Doll, I could’ve helped you with that.”
“Oh yeah?” I turn into his chest and hold back a choke as I run my fingers over the patch of chest hair popping out of his shirt. “Could you go deeper?”
“Vio!” Gianni barks, making the rat grimace. We look over at them. “You coming or what?”
I’m squeezed tighter. “Can’t you see I’m busy here? You’ve got this. Go.” Vio dismisses his brother and I watch with mild distress as Dante and Gianni walk behind the bar into the back room. Dante pauses, sparing a quick glance my way before disappearing behind the black curtain.
Great, now I’m alone with the rat.
I break away from his clutch. Smoothing out my hair, I look for a free spot at the bar. “You wanna buy me a drink?”
Beady eyes rake down my body at a far too slow pace. The gaze feels tangible like the long death chilled fingers of a skeleton. My skin crawls in repulsion, but the rat doesn’t notice, mistaking my rough breathing for arousal.
He grabs my shoulders, turning me to face the bar. “Anything for you, Doll. Drink as much as you want.”
Vio cages me into the hard wooden counter, hands gripping the bar next to mine like iron bars. Trapped. “Aye! Bartender, a drink for the lady!” he demands loudly over the music.
I fight the bile in my throat as his hips thrust forward to grind into my lower back. If I were high, I could deal, but I’ll have to get plastered instead. Otherwise, that scared weak girl inside of me will rear her ugly head, and I refuse to let anyone see her.
The bartender has a large gray beard and a shiny bald head that glistens as he walks over. He eyes Vio nervously; he knows exactly who he’s talking to. “What will it be?”
“Can I just get an obscenely large glass of vodka?” I ask without hesitation.
Vio chuckles behind me, every movement of his laughter rubbing him into me. The bartender glances at the shelf behind him then back at me. “You don’t want any soda in it—”
“No. Just enough vodka to poison someone. Thanks,” I clip dismissively as my gaze drifts to the curtain. The bartender doesn’t get the message because he’s still standing in front of me with an incredulous look.
“What?” I bark.
He tenses. “Um... Listen, you’re a small woman—”
Vio stiffens behind me and presses forward until my ribs creak painfully against the lip of the counter. “You get the lady what she asked for.”
The bartender holds his breath. “Mr. Konta, she could get sick.”
Before the rat can respond, I reach back and squeeze his balls. Finally, he gives me some room to breathe. I smile tersely at the bartender, trying to remember that he’s doing his job. “Fine. Mix it with something. Just make it strong.”
He hurries away to make my drink, putting as much distance between him and Vio as possible. The rat rubs his nose into my hair, invading my ear. “You like to play dirty don’t you, Doll.”
I turn my head away from the sickening sensation. You’d think I’d be used to men breathing down my neck like dogs in heat, but when you’re not getting paid for it… The experience is a lot more intolerable. I smile sweetly up at him; thankful I lost my sense of smell as I eye the yellow teeth behind his chapped lips. “Do you like dirty girls, Mr. Konta?”
A hand runs up the back of my thigh, pushing up my dress as he grabs a handful of my ass. “Who doesn’t love a whore?”
“You want me to be your whore?” I tease, fighting the terrified shake in my legs as his hand travels between them.
“I don’t think the Filoli’s like to share.” He laughs dryly, skimming a finger against the tail of my thong. “Still remember the mess I had to clean up last time.”
“Last time?”
“Yeah, Dante’s old man—”
The bartender chooses that moment to set my drink down in front of us. “On your tab, Mr. Konta?”
The rat pulls away from me with a scowl. “Fucking obviously.”
“Thank you,” I mouth to the bartender as I grab the tall drink and worm away from this situation. Walking toward the wall next to a broken-down jukebox, I gulp my drink like a fish.
It burns the whole way down. The taste is a mixture of isopropyl and a hint of something tropical. It’s absolutely disgusting, and I know anything left in my stomach disintegrated.
“Holy Hell, that’s strong,” I cough before gulping down the rest without coming up for air.
The rat leans next to me on the wall, watching with both humor and shock as I clean the glass. “Want another?”
I shake my head, already swimming with the aftereffects of grain liquor. “Fuck no.” My throat is raw as I continue to cough. Vio takes the glass from me before I drop it and sets it on top of the jukebox. His jacket opens as he leans across me, giving me a peak at a gun in a side holster and a plastic baggy peeking from the liner pocket.
I’m going to throw up… I need to breathe, find my feet. I’ll be fine. Placing my hand on Vio’s chest as he moves back, I stop him from going too far. “So… what kind of business do the Konta brothers get up to?”
He smiles sinisterly. “Didn’t Dante tell you it’s dangerous to ask questions like that? Or is he paying you enough to keep that pretty little mouth closed?”
I run my pointer finger over the side of his nose. “I want to know if you have fun.”
The rat places a hand above my head on the wall, pinning me in once again. “Oh, does the songbird wanna play in the snow?”
Yes… I need something, the alcohol isn’t enough. I can still think. I can still feel. I need to go numb. My grip tightens on his shirt, pulling the rat closer so I can hook my leg around his hip. My vision finally blurs enough so he doesn’t look as repulsive.
“You got any on you?”
His left hand comes up and grips my jaw. The rat lifts me, forcing my head back until my windpipe is stretched shut. My panic is dulled by the effects of liquor, but not enough to stop a thin sheet of sweat blossoming down my back. “What will you do for me? I don’t give the good stuff away for free, even to dirty girls like you.”
It’s hard to talk against his tight grip, knuckles digging into bone. “What do you want?”
He pushes his erection against my stomach. “How about you snort it off my cock? Then you lick it clean for me.”
Bile reaches my throat. “You said yourself that the Filoli’s don’t like to share.”
“What Dante doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
The idea of getting on my knees for this man just for some blow is worse than having to be relatively sober for the rest of the night. But of course, I’ve backed myself into a corner. If I turn him down now, then this charade will blow up; if I go through with it, I won’t be able to look at myself in the mirror ever again.
My eyes dart to curtain behind the bar, willing them to come back and get me out of this mess. But nothing happens and I’m forced to decide. “A little blow doesn’t cover my cost of services.”
The rat tweaks a brow. “So, you are a hooker?”
“An escort,” I lie, reaching up to pry his hand off my face. “An expensive one.”
The rat lets go of me and I drop to the floor, rolling my ankle. Pathetically, I wheeze as air resumes its unrestricted flow. “I like a woman who can be bought.”
I run a delicate hand over my irritated skin; certain I’ll be bruised by morning if I’m not already. “Mr. Filoli reserved me for the next two days, but after he leaves, I’d be more than happy to see to any of your needs, Baby.”
“I’m sorry to say, Doll, but you might not be getting paid.” The rat laughs to himself as he adjusts his suit jacket.
A loud bang comes from across the room. The commotion followed by shouts and the unmistakable sound of splintering wood. Vio jumps away from me, quickly whipping his gun from its holster. “What’s going on!?”
“Everyone out of the fucking bar!” Gianni shouts as he follows Dante out of the back room.
A man lays in the broken remains of a high-top table, struggling to stand as if he’d been thrown. The crowd of patrons don’t hesitate to get the hell out of dodge, leaving the four of us behind.
Vio waves his gun at the man on the ground. “That’s not fucking Kevin.”
“No shit, Einstein!” Gianni retorts angrily. “Kevin’s not fucking here but this cocksucker knows where he is… we gotta get it out of him.”
Vio smiles maniacally, taking a step forward. “Oh, let me have the honor.”
Dante puts his hand up, eyes never leaving the terror-stricken man who’s still struggling to stand. Wordlessly, Dante shrugs off his coat and tosses it my way as I stay glued to the wall.
We all watch in silence as Dante stalks forward like a starved reaper looking for a soul to collect.
The man crawls backward frantically, “No no no… please… Please, I don’t know! I don’t know where he is!”
Dante kicks out his leg, clipping the man under the chin. His teeth slap together with a crack. While his prey is disoriented, Dante kneels over him, fisting the collar of the man’s shirt before yanking him up. Their heads collide and blood splatters in an arc as Dante breaks the man’s nose with a headbutt.
A horrific gurgling sound comes from the man’s throat as Dante releases his shirt. The back of his head smacking against the wood floor. Dante wipes the blood off his own forehead before saying in a grim whisper, “That’s what a broken nose looks like, Pearl.”
I only ever saw a glimpse of this side of him… he always tried to keep it from me.
I don’t dare respond, the only indication I heard him is the tightening of my arms around his coat.
“Please,” the man cries as he tries to turn on his side, but Dante doesn’t let him.
The next few minutes are a blur. Fists come down, bone crunches, and blood sprays. The stench of urine is so strong that it manages to seer through my nostrils. The man begs and pleads for Dante to stop, but there is no reasoning with an animal.
When I can’t watch any longer, I cast my gaze to the two Konta brothers. Both of which look as pale as I feel. They didn’t realize what they would unleash; they didn’t believe the stories they heard. Idiots… All of them, myself included.
The man is on the brink of consciousness when he finally breaks. “I-I don’t k-know where h-he is… but he f-frequents a whore house in New Ken.”
Dante pulls his fist back to deliver another punch. Even I know that if he hits him again, he’ll go unconscious and suffocate on his own blood. The Konta brothers prove they’re cowards as they exchange a look that says the same thing I was thinking.
“Dante…” I step forward on shaking legs. His head whips to the side and those amber eyes are a dead shade of black. “You’re scaring me.”
His eyes flicker, a light somewhere deep inside turning back on. Dante grunts once, then stands up on cracking knees. The sound reminding me he’s human.
“Figure out the location,” he says to the brothers as he walks toward the bar.
They don’t argue with his demand, not while he’s still on edge. I don’t pay attention to their interrogation as I go after him.
I set his coat down on a stool before rounding the bar to find something to disinfect his cuts. Under the counter there’s a half full bottle of Everclear. I unscrew the cap as I approach him.
Dante stands at the sink, letting the water run over his swollen and split knuckles. Cautiously, I step up to his side and twirl the bottle cap. “You need to disinfect… This place is filthy.”
He releases a sharp breath, it has a hint of humor, but then he goes silent as he allows me to pour the 190 proof onto his hands.
Dante hisses in pain as the alcohol hits his open wounds. “Grab the first aid kit in the back room.”
I do as he says.
Once I’m through the curtain, I stop dead in my tracks. The back room is a disaster, confirming the altercation started here before the man was thrown into the main room. Furniture knocked over and papers thrown everywhere. I right an overturned table on my hunt for the first aid kit but only find files strewn across the floor.
That’s when I see it.
Dante’s aura of death suddenly makes sense, and I can’t seem to blame him for almost killing that man.
Mixed in with the files are photographs. Polaroids of girls, obviously underage girls. My eyes begin to twitch and an anger like I’ve never felt awakens me from my shell-shocked state.
I quickly locate the first aid kit and storm out of the back room. I toss it down on the counter next to Dante before snatching the bottle of Everclear and heading straight to sick bastard bleeding out on the ground.
“What are you doing?” Dante barks after me.
The Konta brothers are trying to get him to answer, but all he can manage to do is shake his head. I can fix that.
I dump the remainder of the bottle on his face. He screams out in agony as the alcohol seeps into every wound, every pore. The sensation like knives flaying him alive. His eyes bug open and I get in his face. “What’s the address?!”
He sputters out the alcohol flooding his mouth. “It’s the b-black house on 4th a-Ave.”
I flip the empty glass bottle and grip the neck in a vise. Shattering the base against the floor, I press the jagged edge to the soft spot under his chin. “You lying to me?”
“F-fuck, no I p-promise!” he whimpers, tilting his head away from my make-shift weapon.
“You better not be or I swear to god I won’t stop him next time.”
I throw the broken bottle neck away and don’t spare the Konta brothers another glance as I run out of the bar.
Vomit splatters the gravel in the parking lot as my head spins and I double over. Rancid liquid flooding my throat until I can’t breathe, muscles convulsing until every last drop has evacuated my body. Even then my stomach isn’t happy, still tightening and lurching in hopes of wringing me dry.
A hand claps my back, the knocking helps distract my muscles. “I remember a time where you refused to drink anything but wine… said the rest of it always made you sick.”
The dry heaving stops and with a sluggish pace, I stand. Dante looks down at me with that trademark disinterest but still hands me a plastic water bottle. I eye his bandaged knuckles as I gulp. The taste of stomach acid is still swishing around in my mouth. “Definitely not my drink of choice,” I joke half-heartedly as I pop the bottle from my lips.
He takes the empty bottle from me and tosses it into a nearby trash can. “We’re going to the whore house tomorrow. I expect you to be sober. This isn’t a time to mess around, Rose. I mean it, I will search your entire apartment and flush everything.”
My eyes narrow. “Well damn. There go my plans for taking Sunday communion tomorrow. Oxy counts as the body of Christ, right?”
Dante slugs on his coat and pretends he didn’t hear me. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”
I don’t argue as I step around the puddle of vomit and slink inside the car. The feel of cool leather against my sweaty skin makes me sigh. My eyes flutter shut as I try to regulate my breathing, keeping the dizziness at bay.
I keep them closed when Dante turns on the engine, taking me back to my apartment. All I can see behind my eyelids are the images of those young girls and the bloody sunken face of that sick bastard. All that broken bone and swollen flesh.
My stomach rolls. I suck in a large breath. “I’ve never seen you like that before. I can recall the stories I was told… but to witness the brutally…”
He’s quiet for a bit before responding with a grunt, “You were too innocent then. I wanted to protect you from it.”
“Not anymore?” I laugh dryly.
I feel a hand brush against my forehead, his skin slipping easily against mine with the layer of sweat. “I gave you exactly what you wanted, Rose.”
I scoff and turn my head away from his touch. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I let my eyes open slightly, lights blurring out the window as we pass.
Dante wipes my sweat off on his slacks. “You wanted a villain. Here I am.”
“It’s kind of fucked up that you’re doing this to me.”
He doesn’t respond. My eyes slip closed.
***
“Wake up.” A deep male voice echoes inside my head. I murmur something unintelligible and turn over.
A car door slams loudly, then a rush of air hits me as I’m suddenly falling. I screech as the side of my face collides with the ground. Flipping my hair to the side, I scowl up at Dante as he fixes the lapels of his coat. “What the hell, Dante!”
He rolls his eyes and leans down, shoving his hands under my armpits before yanking me to my feet. “Expect me by 7pm tomorrow.”
I brush the dirt off my legs. “I have work tomorrow.”
“Call off.”
“Hell no, I’m not letting you interfere with my work schedule. My life goes on after you leave, Dante. I need the money.”
He wipes a hand down his face, drilling into me with those amber eyes. “Fine. I’ll take you to work. If you run—”
“You’ll find me. Yeah, I know!” I sneer, grabbing my clutch off the floor of the car. “That’s getting kind of old, try some new material. How about, ‘you can’t escape me because I’m fucking crazy!’ That’s got a nice ring to it.”
Dante stuffs his hands into his pockets and tilts his head to the side. “Go to bed.”
I flip my middle finger up as I walk away. “Eat a dick.”
Once I’m back inside my apartment, locking the door for a false sense of security, I slug off my leather jacket and then the lace dress. I can’t even feel how cold it is. Too tired to function, I crawl under my comforter without replacing the sheets I peeled off this morning.
The rough texture of the mattress rubs against my bare skin, a grounding reminder that I’m still here… that I’m still alive… and I hate every damn second until I finally fall asleep.