| |
Jasper
The girl was a complication. One massive complication. The restaurants acted as a great cover for my less than legal businesses, and keeping my two worlds separate was imperative to both of them being successful. I couldn’t just kill one of my waitresses, especially when the last place she would have been seen was working the late shift at my restaurant.
My image had already taken a massive nosedive in recent months, and having waitresses turn up dead would certainly not help the situation. Police would investigate, and though I did well to cover my tracks, I couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t find something. The local police could occasionally surprise me by being remotely competent.
The girl looked more like a cartoon princess than a waitress – a peaches and cream complexion and bright blonde hair that tumbled around her shoulders in shampoo commercial style waves. Even in her Jasper’s Grill polo and grease-stained jeans, her curves were obvious.
She was unconscious. That’s what I needed to focus on. Not her face or her body. She’d fainted, and I now had a very limited amount of time to decide what I wanted to do with her. Letting her go felt like a non-option, even if by some miracle she didn’t immediately go to the police, she would certainly quit her job and explain to her waitress friends what happened. That gossip would spread quickly, and the police would end up on my doorstep regardless.
Likewise, killing her was a non-option for obvious reasons. What option did I have, then?
A soft moan alerted me to the fact that I no longer had any time to think or plan. The girl was waking up, eyelids fluttering, pouty lips pursing as she stretched. Her limbs retracted in and then stretched out as she finally opened her eyes and looked around. I saw the exact moment when she realized the last half hour had not been a dream, but a horrible reality. Her eyes flicked from fatigue to confusion to horror, and she was on her feet and pressed against the back wall of the small office within seconds.
“You’re all right,” I said, though I hadn’t actually determined how long that statement would be true. “You don’t need to panic.”
Her eyes were wild and trapped, but as I spoke, she looked at me, and they hardened, crystallizing into tunnels of hatred. “You’re a murderer,” she whispered.
“That seems a little harsh. Especially since, if you’ll remember, I was in my office when that man was murdered.”
“You’re a murderer,” she repeated, seemingly oblivious to what I’d just said. “You killed an innocent man.”
I held up a finger to silence her. “Now that is where you are mistaken. Innocent is not the word I’d use to describe a drug dealer and a thief. I do not kill innocent people.”
This gave her pause. Her lips fell open for a minute, her chest rising and falling in hurried movements. Then, she tightened her lips and stood straight, her eyes never leaving my face. “Are you going to kill me, too?”
The question took me by surprise. I’d suspected that she, like so many other people who had stood in the same place she was standing now, would beg for her life. That she would drop to her knees to beg for her freedom, promising not to tell anyone. Instead, she had chosen to meet me head-on, and I couldn’t help but respect her for that.
“I don’t have many other options,” I said, deciding to be honest. “Truth be told, I do not wish to kill you, but I don’t see what choice I have.”
“I’m innocent,” she said, her caramel brown eyes pinning me to my seat. “You said you don’t kill innocent people, but I’m innocent. In fact, I’m good. I’m a good person.”
“How good?”
Her mouth opened and closed several times. “What?”
“How good are you?” I asked. “You say you’re a good person, but do you have proof?”
“Uhmm...” Her feathery eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I’m not...”
“Come on,” I said, interrupting her stammering. “Tell me why you’re a good person. Make me believe it.”
An idea was hatching in the back of my head, but I wanted to give it time to form. I needed to think through the complications. If this girl really was a good person like she claimed, perhaps I could use her to solve some of my own problems. People were questioning my moral integrity, and many of my Texas patrons thought I was gay. Perhaps this girl could help with both problems. Plus, it meant I wouldn’t need to dispose of another body.
“I volunteer,” she said, finally. “I work with underprivileged youth. I help raise my siblings. I give them part of my paycheck every month. And I’m in school to become a social worker so I can help children find healthy, stable living situations.”
I paused, taking it all in. “Holy shit. You’re a great person.”
“Thank you,” she said hesitantly.
“Really, you’re amazing. This is going to work out great.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “What is?”
“Our relationship. We’re going to date.”
She shook her head twice as if she were trying to clear the cobwebs out of her brain. “Excuse me? No, we aren’t.”
I laughed. “You aren’t really in a position to argue with me,” I reminded her. “What’s your name?”
“Marin.”
“Okay, Marin, here’s the situation. My reputation has taken a real hit, and it’s affecting my businesses. You would be an amazing facelift for me. You’re a kind, selfless, beautiful young girl – everything the public loves,” I said, hoping I was making the right decision. “So, the deal is: you pretend to date me, and I won’t have you killed.”
She shook her head. “No. No way. I can’t.”
I sighed. “You’d rather die?”
“Maybe I would,” she shouted.
Tears gathered in the corners of her bright eyes, and I hated that this happened to her. I hated that she’d seen Tats and Bear kill someone and that I now had to figure out what to do with her. She had so much life ahead of her, and something like this would certainly scar her. I couldn’t do much to change it now, except offer her best shot at staying alive. I hoped she’d take it. The thought of death dulling her eyes and marring her perfect skin left a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“What about your family?”
“Are you threatening them?” A fire blazed behind her eyes.
There. Her family. That was my in.
“No,” I said. “But I can make their lives a lot easier. You said you share your paycheck with them. What if you didn’t have to? What if I helped you take care of them?”
She leaned back against the wall, and I could see the exhaustion in her face and her shoulders, the way she had begun to stoop forward. “Why would you do that?”
“It would be part of our deal. You live, and your family is taken care of – food, housing, money. In exchange, I gain your company for the foreseeable future,” I said, leaning across my desk, hands folded together. “It’s the best offer you’re going to get, and I won’t offer it more than once. I suggest you think it over carefully.”
She shook her head a few times, and I thought she’d reject the offer, but then she looked up at me, lips pursed, shoulders squared and nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“You accept?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?” she snapped.
I gritted my teeth. No one spoke to me the way she did. Even strangers treated me with a timid kind of respect. Marin, however, treated me with contempt, as though I were nothing more than a piece of gum on the bottom of her shoe. That would need to change.
“Perfect. Then we should get started,” I said, smiling at her.
Her angry mask faltered ever so slightly, and I saw how scared she was underneath it all, the fear palpable.
“Strip,” I commanded before she could say anything.
“What?” Her voice was no more than a whisper.
“Strip,” I repeated. “I want to see what we’re working with. Take off your clothes.”
“No.” For the first time, I heard a plea in her voice.
“Then the deal is off.” I had to be tough on her. I had to know I could trust her, that she would listen to me and do what I asked. This was her first test. Failure would prove lethal.
I stood up and reached for a random drawer in my desk, but by the way Marin’s eyes widened, I knew she thought I was reaching for a gun. Immediately, her hands shot to the buttons on her black Jasper’s Grill polo, undoing them one by one.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to remain calm, emotionless, though there was an annoying flutter in my chest that I couldn’t get under control.