Page 4

FOUR

Ashley

Using both hands, I shoved the door to my cellphone carrier’s showroom open. Micha wasn’t giving me my phone back and I couldn’t survive without one. If he took this one from me, I’d kill him. He’d dismissed me from his office after I yelled at him, and I was surprised he’d let me go.

Thirty minutes later, I had a nice new, sleek phone with a neon pink sparkly case and fresh, non-frayed charger wires. My old ones were a mess, given their age and my propensity for leaving them on the floor.

The technician was able to remotely switch over all my data—except the Ipomoea programs that were installed on my confiscated phone. He’d had some trouble connecting, if his muttering and cursing was any indication but it all went through faster than I expected. I was good to go.

It didn’t seem like Micha was going to physically hurt me. He was rough in his handling and acted like a monster, but he hadn’t actually done anything. Oh, I knew he wanted to. He probably fantasized about it round the clock. The only thing I could think of was that Josiah’s relationship with Della had stopped him. She was my best friend and that tied his hands. It was my one layer of protection as far as I could tell.

It also had me wondering—was Josiah an absolute beast to Della? I’d never seen a mark on her and when I’d watched the two of them together, he was nothing but perfect with her. She would’ve told me if there was any abuse going on. I’d have known, right? Unless she was suffering in silence.

If Josiah was a serial killer like Micha implied, the guy had impeccable manners. He must’ve been super picky and quite clean with his murder scenes. There weren’t any messes anywhere at work that I’d noticed. No screaming in the boardroom, no madmen with evil grins stomping through the halls. No crazy people running around with axes or chainsaws.

Except Micha, of course. He was definitely an evil madman. His grin was downright diabolical. But since when were homicidal maniacs so hot? Or rich. They sure dressed well. They had nice hair, too.

It was a bit different from the horror movies me and Della ate up like candy.

Whenever Micha stared me down, I swore something else was in his eyes, something behind the pure hatred. Whatever it was, it called to me, beckoned me closer. It almost seemed like sadness or longing.

But wouldn’t that be what he’d want me to see? To draw me in closer, for a cleaner kill. You needed your victim to trust you or feel something for you, so you could do the most damage.

Shaking the disordered thoughts from my head helped get me back on track. Stress could make one imagine anything, come up with flimsy excuses for another’s poor behavior. I knew my brain was reaching for a better outcome, inserting humanity and compassion into a situation where there was none. I was giving the bad guy too much credit and he was taking up too much space in my head as I drove home. It was infuriating I was so attracted to him.

When I got to the apartment, I tried calling Della. As per the usual lately, it went straight to voicemail. I shot off a quick text telling her to “CALL ME” and I scrolled through my other missed messages, suddenly remembering I was supposed to meet up with Andy, Mike, and Karissa tonight.

Karissa . Could I even look at her? I punched in Andy’s number.

“Hey, girl,” he drawled into the phone, being goofy.

“Hey. What’s up? Where are you?” I asked, rifling through my closet. Two days in the same outfit? No thank you.

Andy coughed. “Are you smoking again?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered. I heard bubbling water. He was hitting a bong.

I rolled my eyes. “Where are you?” I asked again.

“Vincent’s,” he said, between a choke and a cough.

“Ugh. Whyyy. You’re going to need a lung transplant. Is Karissa there?”

Andy cleared his throat. “She is. She’s with Mike. You hear she got fired?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “All she did was lose her key card. So glad I don’t work for those assholes.”

“What else did she say? I was supposed to pick her up.”

“She didn’t, she’s just bummed. Now she’s gotta look for another job. When are you getting here?”

Relieved, I answered, “When I get there. I gotta shower.”

“All right. See you soon.” Hanging up, I tossed my new device to the bed.

Karissa hadn’t mentioned me; Andy would’ve told me. But neither did Micha when he fired her, so she had no clue it was all my fault. How was I supposed to face her, knowing? It wasn’t my fault she left her card down there, but I’d robbed her of the chance to get it back before anyone found out.

The details were unknown to me, but I knew she’d been through a lot in the past and she was the nicest person. She was the last person I wanted to see get hurt.

By the time I pulled into Vincent’s driveway and parked, I felt a little better. She would’ve called me if she was super upset and needed someone to talk to.

Slamming the door shut I held my head a little higher and walked up the sloping driveway. I’d do everything I could to help her find a new job, I determined—it was the very least I could do.

If only I’d gotten the chance to put her key card back as planned.

“Hey sunshine,” Mike greeted me, opening the door. “Where’s the funeral?”

“Black hides the blood stains,” I shot back. I was fully aware there were other colors, as so many had pointed out to me for years, but black was easy and it always looked good. “And you’re next.” He grinned, gave me a quick hug and settled on the sofa.

A quick laugh across the room revealed Vincent, his hand on the doorknob as if he’d just opened it. “You guys need to head out, company’s coming.”

Andy groaned and Mike stood back up from the couch. “Where’s Karissa?”

The second I asked the question; she popped out of the bathroom. “Did Vincent just say we have to go?” she asked.

Mike nodded. “Yep, he did.”

“I just got here. You guys want to come to our place?” I offered. “Horror movies and drinks?”

“Sure,” Karissa said. “Sounds perfect, thank you.”

The guys began gathering up their stuff. “I heard you got fired. Are you okay?” I nearly winced while asking her the question.

“Yeah, it's fine. The money was nice, but it was kinda stressful there,” she said, and then widened her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe how many people tried to get me to give them pills, get me to steal.”

This girl was killing me. “I can only imagine... I can only imagine.” I had to look away. “I can help you with references and stuff, go job hunting with you if you want company.” It was incredible how many people tried to take advantage of her sweet, quiet nature.

We were in the basement of Vincent’s house, in a sort of entertainment room or family room. I’d been upstairs once, and it was a far cry from the “party house” of the lower level where we were currently gathered.

It’d always struck me as odd, that the man had this little lair, but then again, his work wasn’t what one would call legal. He dealt in illicit substances and occasionally had some really scary people around. Not that Andy or Mike were scary to me, but I was never certain what, exactly, they had to do with Vincent since they mainly operated a chop shop, dealing with stolen cars and automotive parts. It wasn’t any of my business to ask but every once in a while, I wondered.

“Maybe we should head out. What’s the hold up?” I called over to Mike and Andy, who were arguing over something on Mike’s cellphone. “Guys?”

“Mike!” Karissa called out. He waved her off and she rolled her eyes at me. Everyone always thought Mike was her boyfriend, but he didn’t swing that way. He was her best friend, and they were practically inseparable.

“Hang on, girlie,” he finally replied.

Just then the outside door opened, and a group of men walked in. Two of them appeared to be bodyguards, or some type of employees going by their black fatigues, for the last man that walked in.

Vincent came charging down the steps and glared at each of us in turn. “I told you fucks to get out of here.”

He strode forward, holding out a hand to the main newcomer. “Sorry, Alexander, they were just leaving.”

“I think that’s our cue,” I hissed at Andy.

The man Vincent called Alexander stepped into our way, blocking the exit. “No, this is fine. Could be useful.” He reached around behind his back, and I half expected him to come back with a gun.

Instead, it was a cellphone. After some quick scrolling, he held a photo up for all of us to see. “Have you seen this woman?”

The picture was of an extremely thin girl in an evening gown. The photo was unedited, I was guessing, based on the obvious track marks running down the insides of her arms from intravenous drug use. Despite the scars, she was a pretty girl.

“Her name is Sara. There is a one-million-dollar reward for her safe retrieval or any information that brings her into my possession.”

“Never seen her, sorry,” Mike said, quickly perusing the photograph.

“That’s rough,” Andy muttered as he looked the image over, and I smacked his shoulder with the back of my hand.

Alexander made a rumbling sound, his eyes reflecting red, probably from the neon bar sign hanging across the room. “Let Vincent know if you hear or see anything,” he ordered us.

We nodded, and Karissa mumbled, “okay,” before stepping behind me and out of the way.

Vincent tilted his head toward the stairs, indicating Alexander should follow, and the four of us quickly went outside.

“Karissa, ride with me,” I called over my shoulder, digging my keys from my pocket.

Andy and Mike climbed into a Lexxus and followed us down the driveway. “If you find this Sara girl, you get a million,” I grinned at my friend as we sped down the road.

“Ehh, I don’t want to get involved in that. I’m okay with Vincent, but some of the stuff he gets into is too serious for me.”

Couldn’t blame her. “Yeah, I get that. I grew up around this gangster crap so it's not that bad to me. I mean, I know it's bad, but I guess I’m used to it?”

Bridgeport, Connecticut was a good training ground for desensitizing a person and encouraging them to let things slide off. Unfortunately, bullets didn’t. I knew way too many people taken out by a stray, or that were now six feet under from an overdose. Funny that I'd moved away from that stuff just to find a more genteel version, here.

Karissa gave me a sympathetic look. “Sad thing to be used to but I can see how that would be with where you used to live.” She turned and stared out the window. “All I want is to live in peace.”

Her words felt weighted, and I didn’t want her to be sad. I’d always been a bit protective over her—which I was now an epic failure at, given what’d just happened at work.

“Well, we’ll have fun at my place. I think I still have some of that wine you like. We’ll just hang out, no one will bother us.”

We pulled into the parking area for my building and took the stairs up. The complex still had most of the original art deco features, with stylish light fixtures and a black and white checkered floor, low lighting. It was quiet, which I enjoyed. I felt safe, here.

The guys hadn’t come up yet and I left Karissa alone in the living room to give myself a minute. I was shocked I’d held on as long as I did after the day I’d had.

Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I didn’t look any different, but everything had changed. Della still wasn’t answering the phone, and I slapped my brand new device down on the counter.

My boss is a freaking murdering monster, and I screwed over my only other friend.

Of course, Micha could be one of those weirdos who had strange fetishes. I’d seen the videos online, of the goth people and others that gave their all to an alternative lifestyle, I knew it was a thing. They collected bones and other macabre items.

I sort of dressed the part, but I didn’t hang out in graveyards or have an overtly Gothic living space, or even crazy clothes. Plus, while Micha clearly favored the color black like I did, I wouldn’t have pegged him for a Gothic guy. He had to just be a weirdo. Some type of CEO super villain or something.

Billionaires are just like everyone else at their core, right? Probably easier to get away with being a freak if you have money. Nobody would bother you about it.

I was telling myself these things, but I didn’t really believe them.

This was not the adrenaline rush I was going for.

I tried to rip my boss’s dick from his body .

My forehead banged against the glass of my bathroom mirror as I gripped the edge of the sink. I had the death wish of all death wishes. Unable to stop it, a giggle welled up and I knocked my head against the glass a few more times before shaking my head. Could I really be all that scared of him if I’d kinda wanted to suck him off rather than tear him off?

The way he’d looked at me the night of the Onychinus release party, when he’d held his hand out to help me step from the limousine. I’d smacked him away, instantly uncomfortable. He had looked at me like I was everything to him. I’d heard what a player he was—everyone knew. The conversations had been hushed guesses, gossip, but where there’s smoke, there’s most certainly fire.

I was probably just another piece of ass for him to abuse. If Josiah wasn’t going to follow the rules, why would Micha bother?

The contracts I’d signed could use another going over. There had to be rules about coercion since I didn’t remember anything about trapping employee's underneath desks being okay. If I’d still had the software on my phone, I’d be going through it with a fine-tooth comb this very minute.

A wisp of a memory wandered into my mind, of Micha getting unreasonably angry I didn’t have my apple coffee one morning. He’d glared at my hand and demanded to know where it was. I’d chalked it up to him just being his usual, grumpy self, but I remembered the sudden and mysterious replacement of all the employees at the coffee counter. My favorite barista had been gone, along with everyone else the next morning, and I’d been bummed out. But they had my favorite flavor again when the place was restaffed.

Didn’t Della figure out Josiah had been having coffee delivered to her every morning? She’d told me about the unexpected gifts that’d started appearing on her desk before the two of them were together.

I shook my head and turned around, leaning against the sink. There was no way this was anything like that and I was an idiot begin to consider it. Wishful thinking was what it was. False hope that anything other than what was happening was what was going on. I didn’t even like Micha, and he sure as hell didn’t care for me.

He’d scared and stressed me enough that I’d started imagining things like the creepy teeth and box of toy bones. Next, I’d be visualizing he was in love with me.

“Ashley, the party’s in the living room,” Andy called to me as I snickered at myself. He started pounding on the door and forced me from my thoughts.

He opened it and glanced at me. “What are you doing in here? You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, turning back to the mirror. I finger-combed my hair back and grabbed an elastic from the counter, shoving my hair behind my head before trapping it in the elastic. Immediately, a rebellious curl sprung free and got in my eyes.

Andy scrunched his nose like he didn’t believe me. “You don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine, lay off.” I went to brush past him, but he swung an arm out. “Just stressed from work,” I told him.

He nodded. “I’m so glad I don’t work there.”

“It’d probably keep you out of jail.”

Andy barked a laugh. “I don’t know about that.”

“Whatever, inmate. Let me pass,” I said, giving him a smile. Between the drugs at Vincent’s house and the cars he and Mike worked with, I highly doubted the sustainability of his so-called chosen career. Somehow, he and his friends had never been caught—yet.

“Just gotta work for the right people.”

“I like my job,” I said. It was true, I did. Other than one particular member of management.

“I’m sure you do,” he conceded.

The rest of the evening was pleasant. My friends teased me about my love of horror movies, we ordered take-out from a sushi place, and we all had a few drinks.

Mike told us about the new guy he was seeing, a man named Michael, and we quickly dubbed the couple Mike and Mike. After a few more drinks, it turned to Mike and Ike—reminiscent of a popular candy, and I couldn’t stop laughing. My stresses were forgotten; even my guilt over Karissa’s job fell to the wayside.

After they left, it came back. Granted, it was probably the influence of alcohol, but my word vomit wouldn’t be stopped.

“Andy,” I said, unable to look him in the eye, “it's my fault Karissa got fired.” He was rinsing out beer bottles in the kitchen sink and I sat on a stool at the counter.

“How’s that?” He glanced at me and grabbed another empty while I remained silent. “Ashley?”

“I, uh, well... I forgot my stuff downstairs and went to get it, and I found her keycard?—”

“Ashley! What the fuck?”

I held my hands up as if to ward him off. “I know, I know. It was so stupid. I was going to put it back when I realized, I swear. I didn’t mean for her to get in trouble.”

Andy flung the cleaned-out bottle into a box designated for recycling. “This. This is why I didn’t want you working there. You could’ve come work with me—I told you. Just like the old days, you could’ve been jacking cars and been safe. But no, no you wanted a clean job.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I already feel like shit about it. I had no idea it was hers; it was just sitting on the counter.”

“That’s fucked up, but how is it your fault? You don’t have to be such a bleeding heart.” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “But you know what’s more fucked up? The people you’re working for.”

“How do you figure that? They’re legit, nobody’s going to jail.” It was beyond me why I was defending the assholes. Probably something to do with Della, I imagined.

“You ever wonder what really happened to Brett? Huh?”

My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” Brett was Ashley’s old boyfriend and a dickhead who’d tried to hurt her once. He disappeared one day, and no one ever saw him again.

“His parents never got to bury him. Sure, there’s a stone with his name laser-etched on it. But there’s nothing in the ground.”

“What are you implying, Andy?”

He started walking away and I jogged after him. Deep inside, I knew exactly what he was saying, without using words. “Tell me,” I said, tugging his arm. This was why I was so concerned over Karissa. These kinds of things. The unspoken implications.

A hand ruffled his hair. “You don’t fuck with those people. Look, I know you’re risk taker. You need to get your rocks off, just come to me and I’ll give you a job, a project, but don’t under any circumstances risk your life like that again.”

Andy had confirmed my innermost thoughts. I couldn’t bring myself to verbally acknowledge he knew, but as I stared at him, it was unspoken between us. A twitch of the mouth, a shadow crossing his gaze. Something was off at Ipomoea, with the people who ran it, and he was fully aware.

Something strange was afoot and this wasn’t the Circle K. More like the circle of hell, but here we were.

He pulled me into a hug, wrapping an arm around my neck. “If it makes you feel any better, Karissa is the last person that should be working there. You probably did her a favor. She’s too soft for that environment.”

I eased out of his arms and shoved an errant curl out of my eyes. “She didn’t seem that upset, at all. Like, it wasn’t a big deal to her. I just feel so bad; she’s my friend and I fucked her over. I keep thinking I should confess.”

“If it makes you feel better, I guess? Seems unnecessary.”

A deep sigh left me. “I can at least let her know I was going to try to put it away for her.”

Andy dragged a hand down his face before he shook his head. “Well, then confess if you want. Doubt she’ll give a shit. The world could explode around that girl, and she’ll just keep going about her business.”

Andy wasn’t wrong. The girl was an island. A soft, delicate, entity that seemed to just float through life unaffected.

“Ehh, probably the wine talking. I don’t know why I told you any of that, I’m just stressing. Thanks for listening. Love you.” I kissed him on the cheek and started down the hall.

“Love you too, curly.”

I lifted my middle finger in the air just to hear him laugh and close his bedroom door.