Page 36 of Stealing Iris

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IRIS

“Hey, Iris!” Iz, Conny’s sidekick, waves me over toward the stockroom. “Rad’s calling.”

I give Iz a thumbs-up. Both he and Conny thought the nicknames they’d come up with made them sound tough. But to me, “Conny” would always be followed by “girlie-man,” in Dad’s parody of Schwarzenegger’s accent. A smile plays at my lips as I lock the till. “Be back,” I say to Carol as I head up the aisle, past theEmployees Onlysign to the darkened area. The only light comes from the office, where Conny’s pacing, just inside the doorway. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, so I take the last few steps slowly, glancing into the dark corners with heightened awareness.

“You…” I wipe my palms on my jeans, trying to push past the knot in my throat. “You were looking for me.”

Conny stops at the edge of the desk. “Get your ass in here.” He does that hand-waving thing he likes to do, but the stiff angle of his shoulders screams for me to keep away. I take a couple of steps but stay as close to the doorway as I can.

“I know what you did,” Conny sneers, his eyes glassy, and his mouth twisting with every word.

Great, he’s high and he’s pissed. And from the sound of it, I’m the reason. Fear shoots through me like an ice storm, freezing my brain. What can I say to help settle him down? How had he found out about what happened in the motel, or the truck? Had Dante told him? I shift my weight then take a half step back, just in case. A pair of clammy hands clamps around my arms. I crane my neck around to find Ismael standing behind me. “Hey again.” He grins, jutting out his chin.

This asshole is the reason Conny’s pissed off. He probably egged him on about the big-brother crap. Not that Conny’s ever truly been any kind of brother or protector.

“Youthink,” Conny continues on his train of thought, “because Dante invited you to his place, you’re all that.” He looks me up and down, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “And I’m supposed to beyourguest. Me.” His nostrils flare. “I’m supposed to be fucking grateful you’ll take me?”

“No.” I shake my head in confusion. “I don’t.” What lies has Ismael been feeding him?

Conny blinks hard, like he is trying to focus. “Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”

“I didn’t ask to be invited,” I assure him. “You wanted to go.”

Conny’s hand shoots out, catching me across the jaw. “Stupid bitch. I don’t need you. And he…” In his current mood, words escape him. My stomach twists so hard I’m afraid I’ll puke. No matter what, this isn’t going to end well. “He don’t need no hood rat like you to suck his dick.”

“I didn’t—” His hand catches me again. Pain blankets the side of my face. Blinking back tears, I do my best to stay still because having him chase after me will only make things worse.

“Dante,” Conny spits out, jabbing his finger in the general direction of the front door, like Dante’s waiting outside, “has a house full ofputaslike you. Better than you.” He points his finger at me. “He can fuck a different one every night.”

Anger comes bubbling up from deep inside. “I’mnotaputa.” The words are out before I can bite them back.

“Puta,” he shoots back, his voice dripping with distaste.

“Anything I am,” I yell, “you made me.” What little I messed around with my boyfriends had never gone beyond light petting. I’d always thought one day Dad would walk me down the aisle, and I had to deserve to wear the white dress Mama wore. Now I’d lost both of them. The thought I’d locked tight in my heart finally broke through. Tears escape, and I let bitterness and anger spike my voice. “What you andyour miserable excuse for a motherdid to me.” Though I may later regret it, I said it because it’s true. And mostly because I know it’ll hurt him.

It did. And I enjoy the stark fury in his expression for a fraction of a second. Then he shoves his fingers into my hair and grips my scalp. Wrenching me forward, he slams me down on the desk. My teeth bite into the inside of my cheek as my face flattens against the wooden top. I howl in pain, but I have no one but myself to blame for pushing his buttons.

“Puta.”

My shoulders tighten. The coppery taste of blood coats the side of my mouth.

“You ain’t nothing to a guy like Dante.”

He leans down next to me. “If you ruin this for me…” he threatens, spittle speckling the side of my face.

“I won’t help you screw Dante over.” Regardless of how things ended, I can’t be part of what he’s trying to do to Dante.

“I don’tneedyour help. Everything I need is right here.” His hand comes down hard on my right cheek, and he squeezes until his fingers dig painfully into the curve of my bottom. “I’m going to hand you out to anypendejowilling to pay a dollar for your ass until I have the 50K I need.” Ismael is standing at the doorway, laughing out loud at Conrado’s threat.

He would probably be the first one to step up because, like Conny, he’s always looked at me in a way that made me feel dirty.

“How about a little taste of this,” he says, rubbing his hand over his crotch.

“Yo, you can have her ass, bro.” His fingers slide between my legs while I squirm to get away. “This pussy, is all mine.” He pulls on my jeans, which move down way too easily since I lost weight.

“No.” I struggle to push up, but he anchors his hand at the back of my neck.

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