“Yeah, OK,” I grumbled, slowly nodding my head. We’d done all this many times before. What was it this time that bothered me so much? Patrick wasn’t all that different than Lenny in Dallas or Mitch in Stamford. They were all the same kinds of ambitious scumbags. The ones that crossed us on the way out we were forced to put in the ground. It was really that simple.
It was Sarah. She was the wrench in the plans here, fucking up this whole routine operation. It was easy to see and difficult to accept. What happened to her after all this was over?
Dunk patted me on the back, breaking me out of my deep thoughts, and went back to the couch with Dreamer to continue planning out our next moves on how to take down Billy Bones and the rest of his new blood mafia.
This was the job. None of us could hack it in the real world so this was the only life left for us. It got shitty sometimes, and paid out big in other times. And it was probably going to get us all killed one day eventually. Until then Dunk was right. Settle in, finish the job and then move on.
As for that hobby…
I slid a beaten up paperback book out of my back pocket and walked over to my bunk. I passed a bookstore on my ride home and decided to stop in to see if they had something specific. Turned out I was in luck.
I sat down, kicked off my boots and got comfortable as I cracked open The Beginner’s Guide to American Sign Language.
12
Jezebel
Sleeping last night was virtually impossible. All I could think about was my last night with Wreck and the texture of his fingertips as they made their way across my body. It was so different with him. While working for Patrick most of the men that drifted in and out of my life were cold, day-old fast food where Wreck was a hot, gourmet meal at a Michelin three-star restaurant.
I intentionally bit the corner of my lip when I thought of him so I could hide my smile. It was dangerous to wear a touch of happiness out in the open. The last thing I wanted was for Patrick to somehow use that as another weapon against me.
My restlessness mixed with the dawn light warming my sparse room and forcing me out of bed. I could have stayed there all morning just thinking, but last night Patrick told me to meet him downstairs in the laundromat this morning at eight and to come dressed to go out. I had no idea what he had in store for me, but it didn’t matter. It never mattered. It wasn’t like I ever had a say in anything he decided. There was only one real decision I could ever make. Stay or leave. And with no actual security preventing me from walking out the doors it was the most difficult decision in my life. It was also the easiest. If I left there was no telling what he’d do to my mom and brother.
So I stayed despite whatever he made me do.
After making a cup of instant coffee and getting dressed I made my way down the stairs. The weather had warmed up and was looking like it was going to be a beautifully sunny day. Despite everything a warm day always tickled a sense of optimism in me. It made me feel like there was more to the world than my own personal hell. Maybe, just maybe, someday I’d even be able to experience it.
Catching my reflection in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs dulled that comforting feeling. I rewrapped my drooping purple scarf so as to hide the marks and scars around my neck then apprehensively waited for Patrick’s arrival.
Was he going to have me listen in on a shady business meeting so I could find a way for him to destroy them later, or was he going to offer me up like some prize pig for slaughter to secure a new partnership? I could never begin to even guess what was in store so I tried not to think about it at all, instead letting my thoughts drift back to Wreck’s dark eyes and strong arms.
It was the closest thing to a happy place I had had in a long, long time.
The door was unlocked and thrust open. Patrick stormed in texting something furiously on his phone, probably some business deal gone wrong. Whatever it was, the anger was written all over his face. His bad mood didn’t bode well for me. He set down a laptop case and typed on, not bothering to acknowledge my presence in any way. He didn’t have to check to see if I’d be there waiting when he already knew that I would. I’d only ever openly disobeyed him once, then never again.
“Give me your scarf,” Patrick said without looking up.
I froze.
When he finally looked at me I started quickly signing questions and excuses. It was him that gave it to me originally and told me never to take it off so as not to disturb the clients. He’d never asked for it before. Why did he want it now?
Instead of answering he pulled his gun out of the back of his pants and laid it on the washing machines next to him. His expectations were clear. He wasn’t going to ask again.
My worried gaze drifted to the floor as I began to unwrap the fabric. The air nipped at my
