Page 4 of The Trap

A plume of smoke fills the space between us, as Carmine chuckles to himself. “Fuck, prima, you never cease to amaze me, you know that?” he pokes. “Anyway, that,” he tilts his head to the second picture poking out from beneath Brett’s, “would be Colson Cromwell.” But you won’t have to worry about him, it’s Brett that I want you to focus on,” he quips, snatching up both pictures, tucking them back in his jacket pocket.

“Ugh, why can’t I pretend to behisgirlfriend?” I whine, pouting my lips but Carmine remains utterly unfazed by my antics. I let out a sigh as I shift in my seat, taking my bent elbows off the table and instead crossing them in front of me. Since my cousin insists on assigning me to boring, not my type targets, I decide to mess with him a bit. He may be used to my sense of humor but if there is one thing he can’t stand is when I get vulgar.Which is all the more reason to do it.“I mean did you see those veins that were raised all over his hands? Fuck . I can only imagine how veiny other parts of him are. I bet that dick he’s probably swinging around is covered in them,” I laugh.

Uncomfortable by my raunchy dramatics, he clears his throat. “For that exact reason,” he points a disapproving finger my way. “He’s–”

“My type?” I interrupt.

“Yep,” Carmine deadpans, looking past me, waving to Jose´ behind the bar for another round of drinks. “Listen I don’t have all night; Sienna is waiting for me. There’s some new spot in the city she wants me to go check out with her a couple blocks away. Um, I forget the name. Masca something.”

“Mascarillas?’ I giggle, “isn’t that a sex club?”

Me and Carmine have always been close. Even though I have my older brother Alex, Carmine is closer in age to me, so I’ve always considered him to be more like a brother than a cousin. Which accredits to our banter, but it does make it challenging at times, working for him.

His eyes widen jokingly, “I hope that’s not judgment in your voice. Over here talking about veiny dicks all casual like you would talk about the Jets or the Yankees with your fucking cousin. But me mentioning going to a sex club with my wife, is crossing the line for you? Jesus Ramos, you’re more fucked up than I thought,” he jokes.

“Sorry, it’s just you’re so,” I stop to puff out my chest for emphasis, “protective over Sienna. I can’t imagine you sharing her with anyone,” I state pointing out the obvious.

“Please. It’s for research for her next book.” He waves his hand, unintentionally wafting the smoke billowing from his mouth. Carmine’s wife, Sienna, is living the dream. Mobster wife by day, horror romance author by night. And apparently that means observing at sex clubs. Shit, count me in. “Anyway, enough about that. I need you packed and ready to head to Larchmont by the morning.”

“Larchmont?” I scoff in protest.

He shoots me a stern look. “Well, technically Sleepy Hollow, that’s where Satan’s Stiletto is. You know, the strip club your brother and I opened, across from Oogie’s Ink. It’s right on the main drag and it’s where Brett hangs out every single Thursday night without fail. I assume you’ll be staying with your mom in Larchmont, since it’s close?”

I swallow thickly. I fucking hate Larchmont, Sleepy Hollow, or pretty much anywhere that I used to frequent when papa was alive. It’s amazing how your hometown can feel so foreign the moment a loss or trauma stains what you once loved. The second I could I fled to the city to be near where Alex and Carmine live and other than calling mama every once in a while, I haven’t thought much about going back.

“Do I have to stay there? I mean the train ride isn’t that long in and out of the city,” I suggest but I can tell by the way Carmine’s lips are pursed around the dwindling edge of his cigarette he’s not having a word of it.

“Raiden,” he begins in a reprimanding tone.

“Ah, fine, it’s just—” I pause when Jose´finally greets us with a freshly poured Malbec for me and a Manhattan for Carmine.

“Thank you,” Carmine mumbles to Jose´ before motioning his hand for me to continue. “It’s just what?”

“I don’t know. The house feels so weird with just mom there since papa died.” My tone drifts.

“Even more of a reason to visit,” he says encouragingly. For a fleeting moment, I see my cousin and not the harsh boss that I’m usually presented with. “I know more than anyone what it feels like to have to live, to fucking suffer, through loss, but ignoring the ones who are still here isn’t how we should cope.” I expect him to say more but he pauses, shifting in his seat as his demeanor morphs too. “Death is a part of life. Just like it’s a part of our business. That pain you feel, anchor it, use it to get this,” he stops again, this time to point back at the picture, “motherfucker where he belongs.”

“In jail with his daddy?” I interrupt. Purposely, defaulting to sarcasm. My favorite way to deflect and cope with just about anything.

Carmine scoffs, waving a hand. “Jail? Please, that'd be a vacation for him. I want him to suffer. I want him to experience pain so unfathomable that he’ll beg for death to take him only for him to be buried alive, forced to count every fucking second it takes to fade into whatever hell awaits him.”

“What about the brother?” I ask, wondering where his fine ass fits into all of this.

“Don’t worry about him. He’ll get what’s coming to him in time. But for now, it’s Brett we need first. I’ll have your brother send over the file and get you up to speed. It’s very important you schmooze Brett. Meaning that feisty attitude we all love so much needs to be tapered–”

“Fuck that.” I scowl, immediately realizing that I’m only proving Carmine’s point. “My bad, as you were.”

Without skipping a beat, he goes right back to business. “Let him think you’re the greatest fucking thing ever because the sooner you can sneak into his life, the sooner you can take what they’ve been hiding in that house since Alistair was imprisoned.”

I nod as Carmine rises.

“I trust you can decide your alias?”

Swallowing my wine, I nod again. “Yep. Sally.”

“Nice,” he grins, likely assuming it’s after Sally fromThe Nightmare Before Christmaswhich Carmine and Sienna are both obsessed with. Hence the pinstripe suits he’s always wearing and the stitched tattoo he recently opted for on his ring finger instead of a wedding band.

But I’m more of a classic horror girl. I’ve made it a point on each new assignment that requires an alias, to pick a different final girl’s name to go with. So, I figure this time I’ll go with the iconicTexas Chainsawcharacter.

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