Page 16 of Charity's Torment

Max mumbled something under his breath, but I couldn’t understand, then nodded. “You come right out if something doesn’t feel right. If I have to go in guns blazing, Luca will have my hide, and then I’ll have yours.”

“Promises. Promises,” I teased, repeating his words.

I moved to step out of the car, and he grabbed my arm. “I’m serious, Charity.” Worry slithered across his features then promptly faded.

I sat back into my seat, completely dumbfounded. “Yesterday, I played hooker and went into a motel room alone to kill a man… where was your concern then?”

“I was out of my mind with it. Trust me.”

Placing my hand on his cheek, I leaned in close to him, taking in his scent. “I do trust you, Max. Now do the same for me and let me do what I’m good at.” I wink.

Max sat silently, mulling over my words, and I left him to it, shutting the door behind me.

Jose’s house was a worn-down brick home with a chain-link fence surrounding dead grass. A junk vehicle sat in front, up on blocks, waiting for the municipality to care and tow it. I flipped the latch on the gate and walked through, then knocked on the door. Dingy places like these made me grateful for the life I grew up with, even if I turned out to be a killer for the mob.

I glanced back at Max sitting in his car and looked back in time to see the man crack the door. “Who are you?” said a gruff voice.

I hunch my shoulders and put my arms around my waist to resemble a nervous teen. “Um… I was told by Josh that I could get something here,” I said while glancing around.

His eyes trailed up and down my body, and I thanked God I still looked horrid. I even had a little dirt on my knees from climbing out of the hatch. The part was mine, and I played it well. He closed the door, pulled the chain from the slide, then opened it back up. The stink of body odor caused me to recoil swiftly. Dingy mattresses were across the living room floor with various degrees of stains covering them. A woman sat in the darkened corner, eyes bugged out from her high, staring at me. I curled my upper lip in disgust. I never understood why people would continue to live like this. Not the addict, she has a mental issue; I’m talking Jose and the doorman. They have to be disgusted with the living situation here. I fixed my visibly judgmental attitude and slipped back into a scared teen.

I had a love-hate relationship with playing a weak woman. No one expected a meek and mild woman to utterly annihilate a fully grown man. But I hated that men tried to take advantage of women like that. Those women weren’t as strong as me, and their fates were in the hands of depraved men.

I followed the man up the stairs and into the first room on the right. Jose and the girl from the school sat cozied up on the discolored couch, smoking a bowl.

“What do you need?” Jose croaked out while holding the smoke in his lungs.

“Got a little Cocoa Puffs?”

Cocoa Puffs was a slang term my brother taught me. It meant Cocaine mixed with other drugs, especially hallucinogens. It was his favorite.

“Yeah. How much do you want?”

I studied the brown-haired teenager draped around him. Her oversized sweater covered her hands, and her baggy jeans flowed over her dirty socks. What her life must be like if hanging out with him in this dingy ass house is better than being at home. “A gram?” I pulled out the bill that dead Tom gave me and tossed it on his lap. “Have you seen Josh around? He was supposed to split this with me.”

He looked at me from the corner of his eye. He was suspicious. “I know him, but I haven’t seen him.”

Strike one.

“When was the last time you did? He’s kind of ghosting me right now.”

Jose stood from his seat and pulled a baggy out from the lockbox sitting on the coffee table before him. Thank you, Jose, for confirming you are, in fact, still dealing drugs. This had other implications, though, I knew Luca would want to hear about it. I snatched the bag from his hand and put it in my pocket.

“It’s been a few years. I heard he got sober. I’m surprised he’d split with you.”

Strike two.

Did I believe him? No, I didn’t. Trust no one. Everyone has their own agenda they are working for.

“Hey, you go to my school, East High, right?” I asked the girl sitting next to him.

“Yeah.”

“You’re a sophomore… in my third period, right?” I asked fishing for details.

“No, I’m a senior. I haven’t seen you in my class.”

People have a tendency to correct you when you say something wrong about them, especially if they find it insulting. It’s an urge that gnaws at them until they have to straighten out the facts. I like to encourage the desire to be correct to get what I want.

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