Page 80 of Scarred King

“A ceasefire is all about the war, not about taking over an abandoned business.” Unfortunately, I get the same exact answer, and I lay my head down on the counter, exhausted.

“Will they all come together?” I cringe as I remember what I read about the gangs in the city.

“Not exactly.” He wrinkles his forehead. “If they come together, they’ll all kill each other. They decided on some kind of order at the last organization heads’ meeting. It changes all the time.” He is silent for a moment and then he laughs bitterly. “It’s our turn to go first—”

“Then I have to get out of here.” I sit up and feel dizzy. “The Italians want to kill me. They’ll do terrible things to me.”

“You can’t really run.” Charlie says dryly. “You’d better stay here and keep praying that Ralph shows up.”

“Pray?” I shout. “I’m no good at praying. I need to understand things; I need to deal with reality and try to fix it.”

“It’s all in the German’s hands now,” he declares sadly, and I see Johanna making her way inside. I jump up and run over to her.

“What a mess,” she mumbles and hugs me, my eyes fill with tears.

“It’s a real mess, Johanna,” I say as I tighten my arms around the only ray of light I see right now.

“I was arrested,” she says nervously. “I explained who I am, but they found the white powder and left me in that filthy place for hours.”

“You poor thing,” I stroke her golden hair. “And it’s much worse than you think.” I pull her over to sit with me at the bar and look at the time fearfully. a half hour passed. I tell Johanna about everything that happened and what's going to happen, and she looks as confused as I feel.

“Charlie, what will happen to all the people who work here when there are new owners?” I ask and groan.

“We’ll continue working here,” he shrugs and pours himself a drink. “I don’t know exactly what’ll happen and I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“Everyone will continue like nothing happened?” I ask and Johanna looks at me in a panic. She sets out a line on the countertop, rolls up a dollar bill and sniffs the powder over my protests. “Johanna,” I scold, “I need you focused.”

“That’s why I fixed myself up with the magic powder,” she replies calmly and rubs her nose.

I close my eyes and pull up the information I filed inside my head this morning. All the information about the rival groups is running through my head and I shiver. I re-file it and beg my brain to take charge. Suddenly, the new information that Charlie gave me is set in a chart.

“I’ll take over.” I sit up straight and can't believe what just came out of my mouth.

Charlie bursts out laughing and even Johanna chuckles, but she stops when she looks at my face.

“Stop laughing,” I raise my voice. “They’ll come here, kill me and take over, and you’ll have to work for a bunch of sadists, rapists and cruel criminals.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He pours himself another drink. “Maybe after all you should try and run away.”

“Where?” I ask, without expecting an answer. “They’ll find me. I haven’t got enough money to leave the country.”

“They might show mercy,” he tries to encourage me.

I laugh bitterly. “We both know that’s not going to happen.” When he doesn’t respond I sit up straight again, and this time I’m determined to make him listen to me. I quickly go through all the information in my brain. “The Pole’s girlfriend took over his business when he went away for three months.”

“She’s his wife, and anyway, she’s crazier than he is.” He looks at the bottle of alcohol, debating whether to pour himself another shot.

“She wasn’t his wife,” I insist. “She lived with him, but they were never married.”

“Elena,” Charlie is losing his patience. “Everyone knows that the war broke out over you and that you’re Liam’s woman, but look at you.” He points at me disdainfully. “Your beauty is not going to help us here. You look like a little lost girl who can’t even control herself.”

“So what?” I won't let go. “I have the right to take over my boyfriend’s place, just like the Pole’s woman did.”

“But she’s crazy,” he raises his voice angrily, “crazier than her husband. And the first one who tried to mess with her….” He grows quiet and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I get it,” I say quietly, and challenge my brain to come up with new thinking patterns. I’ve never been sharper. “So, it all starts and ends with image. I can be crazy. I have no choice but be crazy. I’m not ready to die today. I’m not a professor yet.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” he looks at me in shock.

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