Page 9 of In You

Things We Notice

Caleb

Game Night

Walking into the foyer I can feel the oppression and teeth clenching bid for normalcy draped all over this upper class house.

It's dressed up in fancy furniture and African masks littered throughout the walls, but it lacks something pivotal.

Something real. I sniff, feeling my stomach rumble.

It admittedly smells good in here, like meat and soft bread. Jazz music plays in the background.

Though it seems quant and comforting, a strange trickle of unease fills me at the innocent bouquet of pale pink and white flowers presented on the foyer table between two dimly lit lamps which fight, but fail, to give the house a welcoming feel. It's not welcoming.

It's all smoke and mirrors.

The well-dressed woman half-hiding in the doorway of the kitchen is witness enough to that.

"Calvin, it's good to see you, my friend," I lie in a fake jovial tone, keeping my eyes on his as he takes my hand in a grip that's obviously too tight.

Though I'm irritated, I don't squeeze back.

There's simply no need to assert my dominance as the night of justice is here.

I take a breath, my nose pricking at the slightly overpowering scent of his cologne.

It's pleasant, but so out of place on someone who's as disgusting as he is on the inside.

"Thank you for inviting me to your home.

" I lay the fake English accent on, hoping it's not too thick.

"Well," he chuckles, stepping back a foot and sizing me up with an interestingly warm assessment, "welcome.

I hope you brought your money because Joe here says you are a master at poker, and I plan on winning enough money off the two of you to take my beautiful fiancé to see the Eiffel tower this upcoming spring. "

A bright smile crosses his face as he leans forward to slap Joseph on his bicep, and they share a friendly laugh. Just based off a physical stance, I can see why he's so appealing, to women especially.

He's handsome, irritatingly and eerily so. The perfect predator.

"Hey!" I laugh. In my peripheral I see the aforementioned woman step out of sight.

"You won enough money off me at the races last month, there's no way in hell I'm letting you leave with even a penny tonight.

You owe me, brother." I cut my eyes to him, lowering my voice.

"Take her to Italy. It's much more beautiful there than Paris, trust me. "

Joseph and Calvin laugh.

“Is that so,” Calvin asks.

“Just tell him you’ve been to Italy so many times you don’t want to go back, Cal,” Joseph says with an eye roll.

Joseph, who's already three drinks in, is annoying the ever-loving shit out of me. Thank God for his intoxication because it's one less astute pair of eyes I need to worry about. No. I just need to worry about Calvin, and the woman in the kitchen who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

She's beautiful.

Sexy, actually. What I can see of her, anyway. That button nose of hers is adorable.

All deep, medium-brown skin flushed with a light overtone of pink. Dark, wavy hair is pinned up in a messy mass atop her head with her face done up beautifully. She's gorgeous and I bet she could get anyone she wants. Why is she with this fuck up?

My interest piques, because there has to be a story there. I briefly wonder if they met modeling or something. In my experience good looking wealthy people tend to run in the same circles.

I rub my hands together, pinging a pointed look between the two men.

So ready to get out of here and be done with this assignment that I could cry.

I have a meatloaf at home with my name on it, and I hate that I have to eat a little first before I can get to it.

My stomach rumbles again uncomfortably. Back in the day when I was a new killer, I'd be so nervous that I couldn't even think to eat much less be hungry.

But the years have worn down at my humanity, leaving all that anxious energy as a thing of the past.

"So, I don't know about you two, but I'm starving to the point I think I could eat a horse. What's for dinner?"

Calvin's eyes crinkle at the corner when he smiles. He turns, placing an arm around my shoulder and gripping hard, leading me forward to the kitchen. I hear the refrigerator close and then the bare padding of her footsteps fade as the woman slips into another room just as we enter the kitchen.

It's fucking odd she hasn't introduced herself, or even odder, he hasn't introduced her. It's rude at best.

"What's your maid's name?" I ask casually as he pulls from me to head around the island to the double ovens set in the wall. One is lit up, showing what looks to be a roast.

His steps falter just a tad as he half turns to look at me over his shoulder. "Who?"

"Your maid," I say, flicking my eyes curiously to the door she must have slipped through. "The woman I just saw in here. What's her name? I'd like to thank her for arranging dinner for us." I grin at Joseph, who laughs and then leans his hips against the counter.

An amused look clouds Calvin's features, however his cadence is telling. "That's not my maid, Lance," he corrects me in a slightly irritated tone, using my fake moniker. "That's my fiancé."

I let my eyes go wide and my face show embarrassment, though I'm not. I just want to rub it in that I see he's being an asshole. "Oh…you didn't introduce her, so I just assumed." I make a face, averting my eyes. "I apologize for my faux pas."

He hums a little disapproving sound in his throat that scratches the wrong nerve in my brain. My finger twitches, wanting to prematurely reach for my gun, but I force myself to exercise patience.

"No worries," he replies in a flippant tone. "What she should have done was come into the foyer to greet you, but," he takes a mouthwatering rack of lamb out of the bottom oven and places it on a wooden trivet on the island, "she's been out of sorts with how long her hand is taking to heal."

"Yikes. That sounds like no fun at all. How long has it been broken?"

"She's been in a cast for about two months, or so. So she's not really talkative lately."

"Ah, understandable." I nod. "Yeah, I've broken a hand or two, and my nose. I didn't talk to anyone either." I grin at Joseph who laughs quietly as I step towards Calvin, reaching towards the discard potholders on the counter. "Here, let me help with that."

Calvin throws me a grateful look but shakes his head as he digs in a drawer, producing a long serrated knife and a tined serving fork that he places alongside the lamb.

"No need, I'll bring it into the dining room.

Let's eat so we can get started on our game.

" He arches a brow. "You two promised me a good time, and I'm anxious to win some money. "

"Lose," I correct him with a shit eating grin, leaning forward and clapping him on the shoulder. "You mean you're anxious to lose some money."

More like lose his life, but he'll find that out soon enough.

He grunts, picking the lamb back up and jerking his head towards the same door the beautiful woman disappeared through. "Her name is Camilla, by the way."

I nod, taking the lead and pushing the door open so he can go through first.

My heart damn near stops as my eyes lock with hers, and I can't help the shiver that rolls up my spine at the sight of her big brown eyes.

They're near dead, almost lifeless. Even so, she's quite ethereal in her melancholy state.

She looks like she should be in an oil painting in a museum, depicted with diamonds dripping from her ears and pearls hanging from her throat.

So exquisite and elegant is her demeanor, that even that clunky cast and sling doesn't dim her aura.

She's pouring a glass of water at a table set for three, which means she won't be joining us. I don't let the disappointment fester, because I'm not here for her. I'm here for him. The pedophile.

And once I find Cunty, she'll be dead too.

"Camilla, say hello. This is Lance," Calvin nods to me as I settle in a hard backed chair, "and this is Joseph."

"Hi, thank you for coming to dinner," she says in a sweet voice that takes me aback. "I hope you enjoy it."

I pick up the water, and tilt it towards her as if in a toast, taking a drink. "Hello, it's good to meet you. Thank you for making dinner."

She blinks rather blankly at me as Joseph mumbles something back, but a sudden flash draws my eyes back towards Calvin, focusing tightly on the butcher knife that he's currently sliding into the rack of lamb. I wonder if she's drugged.

"Joe, have you heard from Michael or Aaron today?" Calvin asks, cutting his eyes to Joseph while he slices.

I tense at the mention of two of the men I'd murdered last night, but I just take a sip of my water, acting interested in their conversation.

My eyes slide back to Camilla, noticing she's also tense.

She stands next to Calvin like a dutiful housewife, her eyes wide and tight on his every movement, looking at the rack of lamb like it might jump out and bite her.

That weird, oppressive feeling comes back, and I watch entranced as he gets the first rib free.

She sucks in a quick breath, and her eyes dilate, fixated on the lamb.

His eyes freeze on the piece of meat as it falls over, and then ever so slowly he turns his face to look at Camilla in obvious displeasure.

Her face visibly balks, and it's my second clue that something is really wrong with their dynamic.

They stare at each other for barely half a second, but it's enough to validate my suspicions that Camilla is a victim, so I take back my comment about her dying. I won't kill her. I glance down at the meat, seeing it's slightly more overcooked than how lamb is normally served.

I clear my throat.