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We’re inside our room. Xave lets go of me and James looks madly around. Someone bangs on the door.
“Is everything okay? Open the door.”
We look to James for an escape. His eyes are wide and hold no answer. I think about jumping off the balcony, but it’s a long fall and I would have no idea where to run. There seem to be acres and acres of grounds around this house. They would catch me.
More banging on the door, more shouts.
James’s eyes alight and, in the next instant, his hand is in his pants’ pocket. He pulls out a knife, unfolds it and snatches my left arm. Without hesitation, he slides the blade across the back of my arm. My scream is muffled by James’s quick hand on my lips. Blood seeps out and runs down my fingertips, staining the carpet crimson. I feel faint from shock.
“Are you crazy?!” Xave goes for James, but the man is too quick. In an instant, he’s at the bureau, sweeping the martinis onto the carpet. The glasses fall, but don’t break. A cherry rolls under a chaise longue. The smell of alcohol impregnates the air.
I know James says he had good reasons for taking this risk with us, for bringing us here, but I think he’s simply insane! He should have never brought us here, even after he made us swear we wouldn’t scream.
Outside, the sound of keys jangling signals imminent entry.
James rushes toward the balcony. “Make the best of it,” he urges in a soft tone, then closes the sliding door behind him.
“Shit, shit,” Xave curses.
The knife is at his feet, covered in red. We look at each other, our lungs going through more oxygen than they should. When the door opens, I stare in panic. My mind reels, trying to figure out what James expects us to do.
Two large men burst in. They look like bodyguards, bouncers, and criminals all rolled into one. The first one to barge through the door is massive, tall and wide as a server rack, and has a thick, leathery face with deep grooves that should make him look old, but instead make him appear tough and impervious. A dozen more faces peer in from the door.
“What happened?” I hear James call out from the crowd. “Let me through. That’s my friend in there.”
My friend. Not my friends?
“Ma’am?” Leather Man says, looking from my arm, to me, to Xave.
I have to do something, but what? Why did James cut me? My brain goes into warp speed, as it always does when something complicated lies before me, then it comes to me. There’s no way I should know what James wants me to do, but I think I understand, and it’s horrible.
Oh, God.
I look into Xave’s eyes.
Forgive me.
“H-he went crazy,” I say, pointing at Xave.
His jaw drops.
“Marci, are you okay?” James runs in. He’s not wearing a jacket anymore and one side of his shirt hangs outside of his pants.
Everyone outside murmurs and moves closer to the door.
“He just went crazy,” I repeat hesitantly.
James whirls, charges Xave, grabs him by the neck and pushes him against the bureau.
“What are you? Some sort of psycho?” James asks, squeezing Xave’s neck.
Outside, the crowd goes quiet and shuffles out of the way. Elliot waltzes in, one hand stuffed in his jacket pocket, nose up in the air. He surveys the room with a critical eye.
“What seems to be the matter?” he pointedly asks.
James starts to speak, but when Elliot ignores him, he shuts his mouth. The creep’s golden eyes survey every millimeter of my face and trembling hands. I tell myself my tremors are normal for someone who’s just been assaulted, that there’s no way he can figure out I’m not one of them. I’m not!
Never.
“He went crazy,” I say, offering the explanation that seemed to have sufficed for everyone else so far.
One of Elliot’s perfectly trimmed eyebrows goes up. “Crazy?” he says as if he’s never heard the word.
I lose it then. “Yeah, you know, nuts, psycho, wacko.” I’m crying, hyperventilating. “He cut me, he just ... pulled out a knife and cut me.”
James manhandles Xave, shoving harder, making the bureau hit the wall. “You’ll pay for that, you little bastard. I’ve got just the thing for you.” He smashes his fist against Xave’s jaw. Xave staggers and falls to his knees.
Elliot addresses the curious crowd. “Everyone, things are under control here. I’m afraid there’s nothing noteworthy taking place. Please continue enjoying the party.”
They all leave, except the bodyguards, who look at Xave with hunger in their eyes. Leather Man closes the door. My knees finally give out and I collapse on the bed, a hand pressed to my wound.
Xave keeps his eyes on the carpet, his body tense and quaking, a volcano ready to erupt.
“We can take care of him for you,” Elliot says, as if he’s referring to a pesky rodent problem.
James acquires the same tone, same look of disinterest. “My girl’s fine,” James says. “Just a little shaken. Right, Marci?” I manage a nod.
“Nothing came of it,” James continues. “You can have him,” James says.
Elliot smiles, relaxes a bit. I’m at the edge of the bed, exchanging alarmed glances with Xave. This can’t possibly be James’s plan. I won’t allow it. My fear burns, gives birth to a pyre of anger. I stand from the bed.
“Unless ...” James gives me a meaningful glance. “Marci would prefer to take matters into her own hands?”
As I process these words, I turn my anger into something useful. “I would,” I say, voice low and gravelly. “No one cuts me, no one messes with me. Not without paying for it.”
I move forward.
Firm steps.
I’m in front of Xave, looking him in the eye.
Be convincing.
“You little piece of scum. You’ll regret this.” I grab his face with bloody fingers, squeeze his cheeks until his lips part, then push him down. Xave topples backward, breaks his fall with one arm. There’s hate in his eyes, and I hope it’s all part of the act.
“It’s good to see the new generation taking charge and fighting for themselves. Very promising,” Elliot says, pleased. Gold glints in his gaze and something in their strange color reminds me of the man in the next room, those dark irises outlined by a bright yellow rim. The eyes of an animal, a monster. I look away as I imagine tentacles sprouting from his chest. Bile rises to my throat.
Keep it together.
Elliot heads for the door and right before leaving he adds, “Whatever you do, not on my property.” He turns to the meatheads. “Help them get that vermin out of here.”