Page 22 of Scarred King

“Never would have happened?” I repeat mockingly. “It already did. You already had one foot out the door.” I punch him on the shoulder and shoot a venomous glance at Ralph, who just snickered. Ralph’s face turns serious and he looks me over, head to toe. “You let them treat me like a whore,” I’m talking to Scarface again. “Actually, you turned me into a whore.” I punch him on the shoulder again and he catches my hand and keeps hold of it.

“Keep your hands to yourself and stop talking crap,” he says, and pulls me down next to him.

“Crap?” I’m still screaming angrily, and I stand back up. “He touched me. He rubbed against me. He…”

“He shoved his tool inside you?” Tommy cuts me off and asks curiously.

“No!” I say disgusted.

“And did he pay you for rubbing up against you?” Mike joins in and scratches his head.

“Of course not.” I shake myself as if I’m trying to get rid of a trail of ants attacking me.

“Then you’re not a whore yet,” Ralph sums it up for them and snickers again. “But you do look amazing and I must ask you again to come upstairs with me.” He takes some dollar bills out of his pocket and puts them on the table. No more than thirty dollars.

“Wow,” I say exhausted. “Are you going to give me all that in one go, or do you want to pay in installments?”

He laughs at my cynicism, pulls another wad of bills out of his pocket and puts it down on the table. I count three hundred dollars.

“Idiot". I mumble quietly. "I already told you, maybe if you add two zeros. But you’ve already got two zeros sitting down next to you.” I narrow my eyes in anger at Tommy and Mike and they burst out laughing, which makes me even angrier.

“Did you ever once think that maybe, just maybe,” I put my face close to Ralph’s, “if you asked me out on a date like a normal person, and I would find out that you aren’t as screwed up as you seem, I might have agreed to go to bed with you eventually?” He scrunches up his forehead and thinks about what I’ve just said, and I shake my head in disappointment.

“Elena,” Scarface is talking to me again, “you were amazing today.” He’s smiling and totally ignoring my emotional turmoil. I feel like slapping him really hard. “Join us for a drink. Of course, I’ll pay you for your excellent acting.” He takes out a wad of bills and puts them down on the table in front of me. My eyes move nervously between the pile of money that he put down and the pile that Ralph put down, the filth that I feel on the inside spreads all over. I raise my head and let out a shout.

“You’re all completely fucked up in the head,” I yell. “I don’t want your filthy money.” I throw Ralph’s dollar bills at him. “And I certainly don’t want your stinking money.” I throw Scarface’s money back at him. “You’re all psychopaths!” I shout, run to the counter, grab my bag and run out of there.

A cab stops for me and I get in and tell the driver to go. I’ve got to get out of this place. I have to get away from them, have to forget the ordeal I went through tonight.

The cab driver looks at me through his rear-view mirror and I remember what I look like and I know exactly what he’s thinking. I don’t have the strength or the will to explain. He’s not the first tonight to think that I’m a whore, but he has to be the last.

The cab stops and I get out. I hear the noise of a motorcycle behind me, and Scarface pulls up next to me.

“Leave me alone,” I raise my hands defensively and march towards my building. He gets off the motorcycle, walks around me and blocks the entrance.

“What do you want from me?” I ask tiredly.

“I don’t want anything.” He leans against the doorway and looks at me. “I just came to make sure you arrived safely.”

“You were afraid that I might bump into a whore, a pimp or a drug dealer?” I sneer meanly. “Oh, no, that’s where I came from. So what could possibly be so dangerous here?”

“I understand you’re angry,” he says quietly, “but I need you to believe me when I say that there’s no way that I would have let them hurt you. And there’s no way I’d have left you there and gone. You’ll see that we take care of our own.”

“Take care?” I take a step back. “Of our own?” I take another step back. “I don’t want to reach the point where someone like you takes care of me and I don’t want to be part of the group you call ‘our own’.” I turn sideways and lean back against the brick wall. “I’ve never been through anything as horrifying as that before.” I say painfully.

He turns around and looks at me.

“When he touched me, I was sure you’d say something. Do something. But nothing. You put me in a situation where I couldn’t defend myself, where I was totally dependent on you, and you used me like a tool. Like a whore.” I shudder and he comes closer and stands right in front of me.

“You don’t know me yet,” he says, and I think I hear a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Believe me when I say that it wasn’t easy for me to put on that act, especially with you.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and I shake it off. “It would have been much easier if I could have taken a real working girl with me. I wouldn’t have been that nervous all evening.” He brings his hand towards my shoulder again but before he touches me, he lets it fall. "I went there prepared.” He raises his jeans a little and pulls a small black pistol out of his sock. Strangely, this doesn’t shock me. On the contrary. “I hoped that I wouldn’t have to use it, but if that Frenchie hadn’t backed off exactly when he did, I would have used it.” He puts the pistol back in his sock and arranges his jeans over it. “I warned you, many times, you can’t deny it. But as soon as you started working for me, you're one of us, even if you don’t like it.” He puts his hand on the wall besides my head and groans. “This is our world. It’s not as pretty and pure as yours, but you chose to join it.”

“I’ll never be able to do something like that again.” I say decisively.

“I understand.” His upper body gets closer and I have to raise my head to look at him. “When he touched you,” his voice is becoming soft and caressing, “I wanted to smash his face.” His finger slides over my arm, trailing upwards. I hold my breath. “I really felt that I had dibs on you and wanted to take advantage of that.” His finger is reaching my neck, and the rest of his fingers join and close around it. My chest is heaving with nerves and anticipation and he keeps looking straight at me. “It’s strange,” he says thoughtfully, as if to himself. His palm opens and glides over the skin under my neck, my chest is still heaving rhythmically. I’m flooded with mixed emotions, but surprisingly my body yearns for his touch. “You’re the most annoying, irritating and arrogant girl I’ve ever met.” He smiles and I’m blinded by his angelic face. “And yet, there’s something about you that drives me crazy.” He lowers his head and I take a deep breath. My brain takes charge and I shake my head.

“And you…” I lean back and press against the wall behind me until the rough bricks almost tear my skin. “You are the most repulsive, sick guy I have ever met.” He’s still smiling, his eyes are half-closed. “And you will never, ever,” I stress each word, “have any rights to my body. You will never do anything with me.” I lower my head, escaping his smile, but he grasps my chin in his hand and forces me to look back up at him.

“As soon as I'd want it to happen, you won’t be able to resist me.” His face turns serious and my stomach clenches. “You’re a smart girl. You should understand by now that I always get what I want.” His hand releases my chin and moves to my cheek. I want to answer back, I’m trying to think of a clever response to his narcissistic statement but his head is coming down slowly toward mine. His lips flutter over my cheek and I close my eyes, giving in to his masculine smell and his gentle touch. My body is responding in spite of my brain’s warning signals and I can’t control my anticipation for the moment his lips will meet mine. He kisses me gently on the cheek, and the clenching in my stomach is so strong that I double over. He moves away suddenly. “Elena, don’t come back tomorrow.” He winks and walks off toward his motorcycle. Within seconds I’m alone at the entrance of my building, panting heavily. My body burns with passion for the most disgusting creature I’ve ever met.

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