Top Knot steps onto the stage confidently, widening his stance and crossing his arms in a dare for anyone to challenge his reputation. Plenty of women around us sigh dramatically, clearly familiar with him and Sharon smirks knowingly.
“Ahh, Seamus. Now here is a young man no one can dispute against. He has a perfect track record for satisfaction, always goes the extra mile and is especially well equipped, if I do say so myself. Since it’s been a slow evening, we will start the bidding at $50,000.” Every head in front of us spins around sharply, waiting for approval to bid. So many pairs of eyes are pleading for me to give the all-clear, but it’s not me that responds to their questioning stares.
“Oh yeah, sure. Best night of my life,” Avery says, much to the delight of every woman around us. Their shoulders sag and they share relieved smiles. “Until he asked to do 69 without telling me about his rectal condition. I’ve never been able to get the overriding warmth of shit to leave the back of my throat.” An uproar of cries and gagging gives us the perfect cover to duck out, Avery grabs my hand and drags me through the masses. We don’t stop running until we spill into our room, slamming the door closed and rushing to change back into our pyjamas in case Sharon comes looking for a culprit.
Collapsing on the bed, we roll around in complete hysterics, tears streaming from our ears and my wide smile beginning to hurt my cheeks. At one point, I think the infectious laughter will never end as one of us begins to stop, the other starts back up again. If screwing with Sharon wasn’t enough, seeing Avery full of life and happiness is everything. Eventually, we relax until only a few chuckles escape us now and again. Avery excuses herself to the bathroom, her grin still firmly in place as she slips out of the door.
My eyes fall to the discarded suit jacket I left on the floor, something poking out of the pocket which has me rising from the bed to investigate. Pinching the sharp corner, I pull a cream envelope free with a frown. ‘Avery Hughes’ is scribbled across the front in an old scripted style of writing with ‘R.P’ printed over the seal on the back. I only take a second to consider if I should hand the letter over to Avery before deciding I need to know what it says first. I can’t risk her keeping information to herself that affects all of us, especially now I know she’s capable of stealing my car in the night and leaving without a word. I quickly tear the back open and yank out the letter inside.
For the immediate attention of Miss Hughes,
Seeing as you have been smart enough to evade my men on various occasions, I have come to the conclusion you are a clever girl. As such, I believe you will take the offer I am presenting you with this once. Your father stole my daughter from me, a crime which I vowed to see him equally punished for. However, I am nothing if not a fair man and seeing as Nixon has been blessed with two daughters, this is the choice I am giving to you now. Hand yourself over and I will ensure you and your twin a swift and painless death together. However, if you decide to remain hidden, Meg will suffer on both of your behalf’s and you will ultimately be free to continue your life. The choice is yours. You have until Monday evening to make yourself known at The Harbour Bridge Casino in Chicago or I will accept you have taken the selfish option.
Yours Sincerely, Raymond Perelli.
The door swinging open has me spinning around, hiding the letter behind my back until I can process what I’ve just read. Avery smiles at me sweetly, flicking the light off so we are plunged into darkness as she climbs into bed. I shift forward on numb feet, lowering myself into my makeshift bed on the floor and tuck the letter beneath my pillow.
“Thanks for tonight Hux, I really needed that.” Avery breathes, rolling over to curl up on her side.
“Sweet dreams angel,” I reply automatically. My mind is reeling at a hundred miles an hour, but one truth is blatantly clear. I cannot let Avery see this letter.
Meg
I remain curled on top of my sleeping bag, staring at the initials S.P etched into the stone wall, despite the continuous badgering from Nixon in the opposite cell. I have nothing to say, the fact he’s here is insult enough. Perelli is one step closer to fulfilling his master plan now. All I can do is lie here and hope Avery doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it through. Surely there will come a time when he calls off the hunt and decides to put Nixon and I out of our misery, however long that may be. A week, a month, a year? It already feels like I’ve been trapped in this stone cell for an eternity, and after my failed escape attempt landed me in even more trouble, it’s inevitable I’ll only be leaving this place in a wooden box. As if I would be given such a curtesy, I imagine ground up and fed to the pigs would be more Perelli’s style.
At least I know, regardless of my body being recovered, Avery will mourn me. She’ll most likely plant me a shrine capsule next to our mom in her back yard, if it’s ever safe enough for
