Page 11 of Of Mercury and Mist

“All right. See you soon.” Hanging up, I tossed my new device to the bed.

Karissa hadn’t mentioned me; Andy would’ve told me. But neither did Micha when he fired her, so she had no clue it was all my fault. How was I supposed to face her, knowing? It wasn’t my fault she left her card down there, but I’d robbed her of the chance to get it back before anyone found out.

The details were unknown to me, but I knew she’d been through a lot in the past and she was the nicest person. She was the last person I wanted to see get hurt.

By the time I pulled into Vincent’s driveway and parked, I felt a little better. She would’ve called me if she was super upset and needed someone to talk to.

Slamming the door shut I held my head a little higher and walked up the sloping driveway. I’d do everything I could to help her find a new job, I determined—it was the very least I could do.

If only I’d gotten the chance to put her key card back as planned.

“Hey sunshine,” Mike greeted me, opening the door. “Where’s the funeral?”

“Black hides the blood stains,” I shot back. I was fully aware there were other colors, as so many had pointed out to me for years, but black was easy and it always looked good. “And you’re next.” He grinned, gave me a quick hug and settled on the sofa.

A quick laugh across the room revealed Vincent, his hand on the doorknob as if he’d just opened it. “You guys need to head out, company’s coming.”

Andy groaned and Mike stood back up from the couch. “Where’s Karissa?”

The second I asked the question; she popped out of the bathroom. “Did Vincent just say we have to go?” she asked.

Mike nodded. “Yep, he did.”

“I just got here. You guys want to come to our place?” I offered. “Horror movies and drinks?”

“Sure,” Karissa said. “Sounds perfect, thank you.”

The guys began gathering up their stuff. “I heard you got fired. Are you okay?” I nearly winced while asking her the question.

“Yeah, it's fine. The money was nice, but it was kinda stressful there,” she said, and then widened her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe how many people tried to get me to give them pills, get me to steal.”

This girl was killing me. “I can only imagine... I can only imagine.” I had to look away. “I can help you with references and stuff, go job hunting with you if you want company.” It was incredible how many people tried to take advantage of her sweet, quiet nature.

We were in the basement of Vincent’s house, in a sort of entertainment room or family room. I’d been upstairs once, and it was a far cry from the “party house” of the lower level where we were currently gathered.

It’d always struck me as odd, that the man had this little lair, but then again, his work wasn’t what one would call legal. He dealt in illicit substances and occasionally had some really scary people around. Not that Andy or Mike were scary to me, but I was never certain what, exactly, they had to do with Vincent since they mainly operated a chop shop, dealing with stolen cars and automotive parts. It wasn’t any of my business to ask but every once in a while, I wondered.

“Maybe we should head out. What’s the hold up?” I called over to Mike and Andy, who were arguing over something on Mike’s cellphone. “Guys?”

“Mike!” Karissa called out. He waved her off and she rolled her eyes at me. Everyone always thought Mike was her boyfriend, but he didn’t swing that way. He was her best friend, and they were practically inseparable.

“Hang on, girlie,” he finally replied.

Just then the outside door opened, and a group of men walked in. Two of them appeared to be bodyguards, or some type of employees going by their black fatigues, for the last man that walked in.

Vincent came charging down the steps and glared at each of us in turn. “I told you fucks to get out of here.”

He strode forward, holding out a hand to the main newcomer. “Sorry, Alexander, they were just leaving.”

“I think that’s our cue,” I hissed at Andy.

The man Vincent called Alexander stepped into our way, blocking the exit. “No, this is fine. Could be useful.” He reached around behind his back, and I half expected him to come back with a gun.

Instead, it was a cellphone. After some quick scrolling, he held a photo up for all of us to see. “Have you seen this woman?”

The picture was of an extremely thin girl in an evening gown. The photo was unedited, I was guessing, based on the obvious track marks running down the insides of her arms from intravenous drug use. Despite the scars, she was a pretty girl.

“Her name is Sara. There is a one-million-dollar reward for her safe retrieval or any information that brings her into my possession.”

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