She had always hated Christopher. He was an arrogant back streets Boston boy, who had aspired to the delusions of grandeur that a bit of luck and successful risks had encouraged. It had been his appearance that had begun the chain reaction of outbursts from Julia that had ultimately driven them apart. Casey wasn’t sure precisely what had happened, but her then- lover and friend had become nearly alcoholic and turned abusive, holding Casey’s allegiance only through financial dependence. In retrospect, the end of their relationship had been a godsend. It had given Casey the strength to pull away from her family and venture out into the world by herself. Then there was Magali-- had she never left…they would have never met. Still, the fact that Julia had then married the son-of-a-bitch threw Casey’s perception of the whole scenario into such confusion that she didn’t even want to think about it. Water under the bridge.
Julia had passed out shortly after their arrival at the townhouse, mumbling something about Christopher’s arrival. Supporting the weight of the taller woman, Casey had just about managed to push her onto the bed, before she too fell. Whether Julia was drunk or not, her strength held Casey pinned as the woman used her as a pillow. Luckily they were both fully clothed, or Christopher would have gotten an eye full of glory when he unceremoniously walked in on them.
"Nice, Julia. Just like you to set up something like this for me to come home to," he sniped from the doorway.
Casey couldn’t argue that he was handsome, but she’d sooner spit in his face than talk to him. When she began to move away from Julia, the woman came fully awake and grabbed onto her.
"You don’t like women, Christopher. So please don’t try to feign some sort of jealousy now, dear, it’s unbecoming to you."
Christopher sucked his teeth and stalked away, calling over his shoulder, "Nice to see you again, Casey."
"Fuck off," Casey spat under her breath, and rubbed Julia’s back. "I need to go, Julia. You can take me up to Bedford Hills another day," she suggested, too tired to try to keep disappointment from her voice.
"No, Casey. I promised you I would get you in to see your ‘friend’, and I will. Just give me a few minutes with Chris, alright?" Funny, she seems a little more upset then she should be over just an acquaintance. Casey nodded as Julia sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
She could tell the alcohol had stayed with her when she pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled a deep breath before getting up. . Her head was pounding, and she saw, as she walked out into the living room, that Christopher held out a remedy for it in his hand. She took the glass containing the concocted hangover cure she had patented in college from his hand and slumped onto the Italian renaissance couch she favored. Her husband, sensitive as he was, was swirling the ice in his own glass, producing the sort of chiming sounds that were great for a headache.
"Christopher, please, don’t be deliberately annoying. I’m not in the mood."
"Oh, poor baby…you mean you’re not happy to see me?" he pouted, thinking that his boyish looks made him nearly irresistible. That morning he had chosen a casual look for his homecoming: khaki Dockers and a button-down shirt in a soft blue, with the top button open. His short, black hair was brushed straight back, and he sported a day old beard.
"Cut the crap, Chris. You’re here so we can make a few public appearances, shake a few hands, balance the checkbook and then schedule our next rendezvous. I’ll ask you for a divorce, you’ll refuse…then I’ll go on with life, while you go visit your boyfriend. Isn’t that how it works, ‘dear’?"
Christopher smiled, his perfect teeth brilliantly white against his tanned skin. "You are quite the darling, Julia. A man couldn’t get any luckier than having a woman like you for a wife. So brilliant, such ideas…such a fine grasp of reality"
Julia swallowed her hangover cure in one gulp and shook her head. "No Christopher, I’m a conniving bitch…just like you." He grimaced and moved toward her threateningly; Julia smiled and held up a hand. "Ah ah, dear," she said gesturing towards the bedroom with her thumb. "Witness." He turned away from her, casually dropping his open hand to run his fingers through his hair, instead. "I have something for you…something you just might give me that divorce for," she said coolly.
He paused in his walk towards the door and faced her. "Really? Now what would that be?"
"What if I told you, that I have a contact for you…someone who could make your ‘campaign’ fund raising much simpler."
"I’m listening."
"I know who the Gauntlet’s ‘warlord’ is." She smiled as she said it.
"Who? Who is he? How—"
"Easy Chris, you’re liable to have a coronary," she soothed. "The papers, Chris, signed and delivered…then, you get your prize not before. Now, if you’ll leave me to my company, I have numerous things to do today."
Christopher scowled. He had been searching for years for a way to circumvent his dealings with the "blue" section of the Gauntlet-- the corrupt police officers who dealt directly with the underworld source of the organization’s money. But the structuring of the organization was such that only a few members knew one another’s identity at a time, jealously guarding that information and the edge it gave them. It was their system of checks and balances. He would give anything to bring that system down, to be able to get closer to that source of money, himself. It was the reason he had started the "charitable" programs in the prison system. Putting Julia in charge of them increased the chances that he would eventually come across some piece of information he needed; but he had never dreamed of finding the very fountainhead. "Very well, Julia. But if this is a ruse, some sort of game you have orchestrated…riding accidents do happen." He had the spectacular talent of changing tone in the blink of an eye, showing his own brutish roots in one single phrase and then refinement in the next. His Bostonian elite accent faded then. "This is the plan. Tomorrow, I will show you your divorce papers, then we will go down to the bank and open a safe deposit box in your name. There, we’ll store the papers, and when I have my ‘warlord’, then you’ll have your key. Deal?"
"Deal."
They shook hands, as all married couples do, and Christopher pulled on a jacket to leave. He had opened the door when Julia’s seductive voice drifted to him, dripping with menace; it was the voice she used to bring men down to their knees.
"Just remember, Christopher…riding accidents do happen, especially to novices."
The door slammed, and she massaged her temple; the blend of tomato juice, Tobasco sauce and pepper, along with the other essential ingredients, had begun to work. She wished it would work faster. A shower will help. She thought of Casey waiting for her, and all the beautiful things she could do to her in a warm stream of water; but her brief contact with Christopher left her with only the desire to be alone. She would have to face him again later at their usual dinner party routine.
Casey heard the door slam after Julia’s thinly veiled threat to Christopher, and finally let out the breath she had been holding as she ducked back into the bedroom from her viewing vantage point. She was well acquainted with all of the angles of the townhouse and had known just where she could stand unseen. The sound of flowing water, and the lack of Julia’s reappearance, gave her a gauge by which to assess the woman’s mood. It would be sour for the rest of the day and, judging from what she had overheard, she didn’t blame her. She knew her hatred of Christopher had some basis, but it had never been so clear. He wanted to hit her. The thought made her wonder whether the circumstances under which she had lived with the woman during the last throes of their relationship had been a simple case of the victim becoming a victimizer. Julia might enjoy swinging the flail, but abuse was abuse.
A soft click as the front door opened and shut announced the arrival of the maid. She was a short, plump woman with curly salt and pepper hair, and she gave Casey a meek smile and a nod before rushing off for the kitchen. Casey wandered off to the bay window looking out onto the street from the living room. A short while later, as she stared at the passing of cars in the early morning, the maid brought her a tall glass of orange juice. Then, without a word, shuffled off to mop up the wet trail Julia left marking her passage from the bathroom to the bedroom. Except for the sounds of Julia dressing, and the faint rushing noises of the street, there was a still silence. Casey sipped at her juice. At the smack of a hand violently meeting flesh and a small cry, she closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head as she bowed it. Somethings never change; they just get worse.
Julia had donned a dark skirt suit and gestured for Casey to follow her out. She gave the driver directions for the morning and then nodded at Casey’s request to be taken home first to change. The Julia of the night before had disappeared with the dawning sun, replaced by the cold, manipulating woman sitting wordlessly by Casey’s side, staring impassively out the car window.
"Don’t be long." Julia ordered as the Lincoln Town Car stopped in front of the building Casey tentatively called home. She still had to explain Julia to Magali.
She knew better than to make the tall blonde wait and hurried through a shower. The phone rang as she was pulling on a pair of jeans, and she nearly tripped trying to get to it. Devi licked her face.
"Good morning, Casey. Busy night?" It was Daly and his usual know-it-all tone.
"I’m in a hurry right now, Daly. What do you want?"
"Will you be seeing Zero any time soon?"
"You could say that." I hope, she thought, rummaging through a drawer for a long sleeved T-shirt.
"Good. Then give her this message for me. Tell her to get to the hospital as soon as she can, get me records, and then mail them to you. I’m sure you know which ones I’m talking about?"
"Prenatal, right?" She found the shirt and put her arms into it.
"Good girl. I’ll talk to you again…soon." Click.
"I hate his phone calls." She looked for her favorite, purple, hooded sweatshirt-- the one that brought out the blue in Magali’s eyes-- and threw it on. By now Julia would definitely be impatient. She was; and after making a remark as to how big the sweatshirt was on Casey, Julia gruffly demanded that the driver get on with his job and get her to her destination.
It didn’t surprise Casey when they rode past the visitors’ parking lot and through the gates of the prison. Not even the thick leather of Magali’s jacket shielded her from the icy intensity of the concrete and steel; the immensity of the place gave Casey the shivers. Unconsciously she wrung her hands. The guards knew Julia; Casey could tell from their sidelong glances that she was no stranger to them. What did catch her off guard was the relative ease with which they walked through the principal gates and straight into the offices of the institution’s administrative branch. Leaving Casey out of ear shot, Julia paused by a desk and engaged in a short conversation with a woman who furiously punched away at a computer keyboard and shook her head. Although spared the cutting sharpness of Julia’s tongue, it was plain to Casey that she was demanding something unusual. Julia had a way of using her body that spoke volumes. The small, seemingly frightened woman dialed nervously at a phone and then, after muttering a few words into the receiver, passed it over to Julia, who smiled pretentiously as she spoke. Not a minute later she was returning the handset back to the secretary and holding out her hand for a notepad. With it in hand, she walked complacently back towards Casey.
"Here," she said, pushing the notepad into her hands. "Seems your ‘friend’ has gotten herself in a bit of trouble again. I’ve arranged with the warden to have my assistant finish the interview I started. It seems that they are preoccupied with my safety around here, so I’ve agreed to let you go in my stead. Not to worry, Casey dear. You’ll be perfectly safe; the warden’s just a bit overprotective of me."
"Wait, I don’t get it. Where am I going that you can’t go? And what’s with the safety issue?"
"Oh…she’s back in solitary. They’ll give you sometime with her alone. Be careful, Casey, I understand she’s a bit unstable now, and dangerous to say the least. I doubt she would do anything to you, though…after all she is your lover…isn’t she?"
Casey’s mouth dropped open, and she struggled for a denial. None was forthcoming and, too late, she caught on to Julia’s ruse.
"I guessed as much. Really, Casey, how long did you think you could hide it from me?" Julia murmured, running the tip of her finger down Casey’s cheek and neck, stopping just at her collar. "Nevertheless, please give her my regards and do warn her-- if she gets into trouble once more, the warden has sworn to press charges. That would mean a longer stay for her, and I doubt you want that." And I don’t want that either; not when I can use her to get rid of Christopher for good, she thought. "I would have my driver take you home afterwards, Casey, but I have need of him. There’s a bus that will take you to the metro-north; I’m sure you can find your way home from there. Adieu, Cher. I’ll call."
Casey stared at Julia’s back until she was out of sight and then mouthed a ‘thank you.’ A tap on the shoulder from a guard brought her back to reality, and she began the long awaited walk to her Black Velvet. Her legs felt like gelatin, unsteady and numb. She wasn’t sure, how, if at all, she could manage the task of putting one foot in front of the other, when the steady beating of her pulse threatened to throw her off balance. Her insides quivered, and she had to take conscious control of her breathing to quiet the nervous tingling running through her body.
Deeper into the bowels of the prison they went, the static calls coming through the guard’s radio preceding her. She followed him through the dreary corridors that angled forever downward in slants and sharp turnings, the weight of the building becoming more oppressive around her as they walked. The clanging of metal against metal and the obnoxious scent of ammonia were everywhere. When she had awakened that morning, she hadn’t imagined a walk through the prison as part of her itinerary, and especially not a visit to a solitary block. It was just one long hall-- dark enough to hide its gloomy end, but with enough light that she could make out one other tier of solid doors. Just above her, a narrow walkway of grated metal loomed, the silence stifling. Fear, she realized, could be tasted, made solid.
"The doors are soundproof, Miss. There’s a small speaker in each cell-- we can hear in, but they can’t hear out. You’ll see a small red button on the speaker by the door; it’s there for emergencies, though they press it all the time just to bug us. If you get into trouble, use this," he said holding out a small black spray canister, "and press the button. We’ll be in faster than you can scream," "I would stand guard outside, but I have other tasks to take care of, and the shift is nearly over. You understand?" He pointed to the walk above and down towards the end of the hall. "See those guys? They’re constantly walking around, so don’t worry."
Casey nodded, and took the can of Mace. "Thank you, officer. I’m sure I’ll be fine."
"Well, I don’t know…she’s one of those," he said waggling his hand. "Good looking woman like you…could get into trouble locked in a room with the likes of her. Beats me why you would waste your time on her anyway."
She could have said a thousand different things, but prudence being the watchword of the day, she kept quiet. It had been four months since she had last seen her Black Velvet, and there was nothing, being so close, that she would do to jeopardize her chance to be alone with her, if only for one minute. Casey took in the shadowy corners and thick walls that closed in her lover and had leeched her humanity when she was barely more than a child. She couldn’t imagine spending more than a day within its confines; her Black Velvet had spent years-- putting an edge on her skills and her hatred. So lost was she in her thoughts, that she nearly trampled the guard when he stopped suddenly at a door. It was no different than any of the others-- a solid gray slab of steel with a long, narrow opening just under a knobbed, dense, square flap. The flap emitted a soft squeal as he opened it and pointed inside.
Through the exposed, scratched pane, she could see the entirety of the room. The small window was cut in a descending angle so as to make it easy to scan the room from the outside, while limiting the view of whomever was inside. The light was dim, and she could just make out the extreme confinement of space and the plain white walls. Off in a corner a round shape looked to be a steel toilet, while a block of concrete, topped with a thin mattress, took up most of the limited area. Her lover sat on the mattress; with her back slightly towards the door she faced the wall, her arms resting on drawn up knees. Below the hem of her jeans her feet were bare and, in an A-shirt, Casey could only think of how cold she must be. Raven hair fell to hide her face, as she laid her head on her arms and rocked back and forth, her feet pushing the rhythm of her body. A long dark bruise fell from her shoulder towards the middle of her back and, squinting, Casey could make out smaller ones on her arms. She suppressed the cry in her throat to keep it from being voiced, and hugged the notepad to her chest.
"What happened to her?" It was tasking to hide her anger.
"She had to be restrained," he said matter-of-factly. "She’s a strong one. Took seven of us to get her in there."
Casey chewed on her bottom lip, wishing she could slug the guard for his smug rendition of what probably was more than restraint. Next to the door, just as he had described, was a speaker. He flicked a switch on its corner and brought his mouth close to the plain box.
"0329, Guerrerro, you have someone here to see you. Play nice. Remember, one more fuck up and you face the judge." He let go of the switch and closed the flap, pulling out his club in one easy move while he jangled a set of keys in the other. "Excuse my language, Miss. Sometimes its all these animals will pay attention to. Ready?"
Casey nodded, unwilling to open her mouth and let loose the anger that was boiling just under the surface. As the door swung open, she heard the last of Magali’s response to his warning.
"—I don’t give a fuck," she was mumbling into her lap.
Casey waited standing stock still until she was sure the guard couldn’t hear her. "Magali Guerrerro, don’t you dare get more time," she begged, as the door shut tightly behind her with a thud.
She was on fire, her lungs pulling nothing but stale air into her body, her mind torturing her with the sweet melody of her Saint’s voice. Her Saint, somewhere, was in peril because of her. Placed in harm’s way because she was a part of her life: a vital, life-sustaining necessity she couldn’t bear to keep close, and yet would kill, and die, to hold by her side. If she could only stay where she was, away from her, with no excuse to run headlong to where-ever she was, then her Saint would be free to go on without her, safe from the taint she put on everything she touched.
"Gali?" Casey whispered gently, taking the last small step to close the distance between her and her Black Velvet. She’s unstable, Julia had said. Magali reminded her of an abused child cowering in a corner waiting for the next barrage of blows. She couldn’t imagine what could have put her stalwart, stoic lover into that type of condition, but it couldn’t have been whatever had caused the bruises-- she had seen worse. The sight was tearing her to pieces. Cautiously Casey extended her hand towards her, the heat rising from the woman’s body brushing the tips of her fingers.
Magali felt the tender touch close to the searing pain left behind by a well-placed strike. She didn’t want to look up and find a stranger where she needed more than anything to see her Saint. Impossible, her mind echoed. This hand touching you is just another taunt, a spit in your face.
Casey’s chest tightened at the continued rocking of Magali’s body. It seemed her touch did little more than further aggravate her, and she began to think there was more to the bruises and the fact that her lover was caged in like some maniac. She caught a flash of white as Magali rocked; the top half of an envelope protruded from her back pocket. She reached for it cautiously, hoping –perhaps-- it would give her some clue as to her Black Velvet’s condition. It wasn’t her wisest choice. There was no mistaking the intent of the abrupt hand closing on her wrist, and Casey prayed, with the Mace still in hand, that she would not have to use it.
"Gali," she pleaded, the pressure on her wrist becoming painful.
The name burned her, contemptuous to her, coming from a voice so like, so…
Mace and notepad fell to the floor as the tall, dark woman rose abruptly to her feet and brutally grabbed Casey’s arms, pinning them to her sides. There in the cerulean profundity of her lover’s eyes, brimming wet with tears of anger, Casey could see the beast prowling. In a flash, recognition and disbelief battled for domination and, when her Black Velvet crashed and crumpled against her, Casey knew her lover had won. Carefully her dark lover’s hesitant hand came up, strong fingers tenderly touching a reddish wave of hair that fell along Casey’s cheek. Relieved that her vision was real, Magali wrapped long arms around her Saint, hugging Casey tightly against her chest, giving her neck and face desperate kisses.
"It’s you, right? Not something my mind made up? Please let it be you," Magali rasped franticly into her collar, and captured her Saint’s lips with her own as if they were the sustenance she needed to survive. Salty tears flavored Magali’s lips, and the strength with which she held Casey was crushing; but there wasn’t a force on earth that could have detached her from the embrace. Casey cherished the scent of her Black Velvet, finally real and near to her and not some remnant left behind on cloth for her to hold at night. She parted her lips for the hungry tongue her Black Velvet was sliding past her teeth, exploring her mouth and taking in her breath. Strong hands roamed to feel every inch of her, memorizing each curve and dip of her body with the urgency of a starving lover. The walls became unimportant; they faded into obscurity with the feel of her Saint safe in her arms.
"Nothing but me," Casey affirmed. She could feel it building, the need to satiate the growing longing, to devour and be devoured, and scream in pure bliss to the heavens.
At that moment, water in the toilet decided to trickle noisily. It reminded Magali, as much as she wanted to ignore it, of where they were. She straightened and locked her eyes on the green that had drifted through her sleep and her every waking hour of discontent. Magali stuck her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and threw her head back to stare at the ceiling. She took a deep breath and one step back to sit down on the concrete block and leaned her elbows on her knees, with head bowed and face somber. "How’d you get in here, Casey?" she asked, pressing her lips together and clenching her jaw, the tense muscles showing in her face.
Casey felt the blood leave her face. A storm cloud loomed, threatening to change Magali’s perception of her forever; there were explanations that were owed, and deep wounds to expose. Much had happened in a relatively short time and, considering their last exchange and her lover’s temperament, Casey was unsure of where to start. She knew she would have to explain her reactions on Christmas, and that would lead to Julia. How would the dark woman who demanded so much of herself and so little from her, take her latest transgression? Licking her lips, she began. "You always put yourself in the darkest light, Gali. You first think of the worst case scenario, and drench everyone in a wave of suspicion. I understand, it’s kept you alive." Casey turned away from her and faced the stark walls that were her lover’s only companion. "But you don’t do that with me…and you should." She wanted very much to feel her Black Velvet’s touch, but not a rustle of movement came from her lover, and she knew Magali was giving her the distance prescribed for letting go. "You’ve met Julia, haven’t you?"
"Yeah…what the fuck is goin’ on, Casey?" she asked, in a voice carefully stripped of emotion; she looked off into a corner. First your letter telling me you have shit to explain. Then Daly…then that fuckin’ picture. Then you get in here. Who the fuck ever gets in here? "She told me you two were friends at school." Was the bitch lying to me, and you didn’t know each other at school or somethin? Did Daly get you in contact with her? Are you part of the Gauntlet? Are you in it with Daly? Now you’re telling me not to trust you? Shit, Baby, if I can’t trust you... Magali shook her head to clear it of the clamoring voices and thought of the look on Casey’s face before she turned away. Madre de Dios, she looked as if she had to shoot her dog.
Casey bit her lip; the serrated truth was creeping closer. "We were, in high school, for a while at least. But…we became, for several years, lovers…and more than lovers," she uttered, with the fatalistic pang of the condemned accepting their fate--saddened yet resolute.
"More than lovers?" she asked, confused, and dreading the explanation that could send her reeling down into the black abyss of her rage. Don’t even think of the possibilities, Zee. Let her tell you…even if it kills you right here.
"I was her…willing submissive for a time. Do you know what that is?"
I’ve had those, and some not so willing…like Greenie could have turned out to be. She nodded, then realizing that her Saint couldn’t see her acknowledgement, forced out a guilt laden, "Yes".
Surprised, but glad that she didn’t have to explain, Casey continued. "I gave myself to her freely, as a gift…how it should have been, because she gave me an escape. When I wrote you," she said, holding up the letter in her hand, "I told you how we used each other? I was just a kid, Gali, with the responsibility of an entire household and three kids on my shoulders. All I wanted was to go to the movies, or maybe a party…Julia made it so I could have another life, and I thought I loved her for it."
Magali sat on the mattress, and leaned against the wall. Visions of what had transpired between Casey and Julia filled her mind’s eye, and she was caught between rage and the arousal of it. Her own dealings with women carried a sadistic strain of their own, though nothing as elaborate as she had seen in live performances. Those exhibitions had left her seething with want, enough for her to feel the power of it all. Picturing Casey in those positions was ripping her apart; it was what she had seen on Julia’s face in the picture Daly had shown her. "You said you thought you loved her. Do you still?" Magali picked at the cuticle of her thumb; her Saint wasn’t watching.
"No. Julia began changing, I doubt her feelings for me did, but her behavior went off a deep ravine somewhere. At the time, I didn’t know why. I think I do now." Casey crossed her arms over her chest. Regardless of how the woman had treated her, she couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for her.
I think I know too…the Gauntlet happened. "What did she do to you?"
"She became abusive…it sounds funny considering our relationship, but there’s a huge difference. When I threatened to leave, she reminded me why I couldn’t. I was…my whole family was, dependant on her money. One day we had an argument, and Russell came to my defense. She had a riding crop—"
"Christmas…that’s why…"
Casey finally faced her and, with her eyes downcast, nodded. It was enough. Her Saint was baring her soul and laying out her deeds as if they were unforgivable crimes. In comparison, they paled in the light of what Magali knew she had done, and was capable of doing, with little regret. Magali rose to embrace her, knowing in her own way what it was like to use one’s body in return for a ‘benefit’. It was how she had come to bear Alejandra. Furious at what Casey had gone through, she contented herself with knowing that the throat of the woman responsible would soon be within arm’s reach. Casey stopped Magali’s approach with a tender palm laid against the tall woman’s chest and a soft shake of her head.
"There’s more," she gasped, fighting back the tears that were rising in response to how readily Magali had accepted everything she had told her. The dark woman let her arms fall to her sides. "When I came to visit you a couple of months ago, I bumped into her at the visitors’ center." Seeing Magai’s intent stare, she hastened to add, "It’s the first time I had seen her since I left her." She got a slight nod of acknowledgement, and it encouraged her to continue. "Daly saw us together…he thought I could help you get to her husband. So I—"
"I’m gonna kill ‘im! He’s done." Casey waved her hands, motioning for her to keep her voice down and pointing at the door. Magali ignored her. "Who the fuck does he think he is, getting you involved?" She was past furious; it showed in the clenching and unclenching of her fists, and the sudden, deadly calm of her face.
"It worked, didn’t it?
"That doesn’t make it right. I’m still gonna kill ‘im."
"Stop, Gali. From you…that’s not speaking figuratively."
"You don’t understand, Casey. He likes to fuck with people…he…he brought me a picture of you with Julia. You were leaving a bar or something…she was putting you in a car. It kinda looked like—"
"I went home with her that night? I…did." She was barely able to get the admission out before her own throat closed in and stopped her breath-- choking off her words, and searing her chest with the gravity of what she was saying, and what it could mean. There it is. Be bright, Honey. Catch what I’m telling you here. Don’t make me draw a picture of it for you; I don’t want to have to hurt you any more than I already have.
"Yeah, that’s exactly what it— You went ‘home’ with her?" She was tempted to look down at her stomach, sure she would find the handle of a knife sticking out of her belly. Magali couldn’t remember anything that had hurt as much. What did you expect, stupid? You’re in here. Fuck this, what’s mine has always been mine, and no one else can have it. I demand what I want, and take what I need. And…she drew a mental breath. That’s what makes her different, stupid…you don’t have to take or demand, she just gives…just because. She needs me now…right now. Don’t be a fool, Zee, don’t let her down.
Silence, ominous and heart wrenching; she had expected it, and worse. "If you never want to see me again, I’ll understand. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you trapped in here. Daly made it seem like it would help you get out sooner, and I needed Julia to trust me…with her there’s only one way for me—"
"Shh." Magali pressed the tip of a finger to Casey’s lips, halting the rapid flow of words that she realized were hurting Casey as much as her. "I don’t care what you did…whatever it was, you did it for me." How can I be angry with you? When I fucked three women just because I was pissed at you…pissed at myself. "Casey, I…" Magali gathered her Saint and brought her close. "I can’t…be without you. You’re more important to me than anything you’ve done. It doesn’t matter…only you matter."
Casey slumped onto the thin mattress, emptied and overwhelmed. "She figured out who you are to me. Took her long enough, I suck at lying, and she knows when I am."
"You have to stay away from her, Baby." Magali demanded, almost pleading, as she began to pace the small space of floor allowed her. "You don’t know what you’re in the middle of."
Casey watched her move back and forth, turning sharply after every two steps to take another two steps in the opposite direction. It was like watching a caged tiger at the zoo, and she dared to take the animal by the hand and stop its treading, bringing it face to face with her. "Gali, all I care about is…having you. And I’m not as blind as you think I am. I know about the Gauntlet. I don’t know what it is for sure, but I know it has to do with you, and that tattoo on your wrist, and Julia, and…Webster. I know Daly is trying to help you. Okay, maybe not in the best of ways, but it’s the lesser of two evils, right? I won’t stand by and do nothing."
"You don’t understand, Baby. These are bad people, who will stop at nothing to get what they want…and that includes Daly. The price is mine to pay, and I refuse to have you put yourself in danger for me." She tried to reason with her Saint, cupping a cheek with a tender hand, but the turmoil in green eyes told her it would be a hard won victory if her Saint gave in.
"You refuse?" she spat, pulling her face away from Magali’s hand. "Gali, I’ve been in danger since the minute I was born. In danger of dying alone, unwanted, and unneeded, in danger of being ordinary, of never finding love. And if you think I’m going to risk losing the one thing that makes my life uncommon, that gives it meaning…and sets me free, then you are the one who’s in ‘danger’, Magali Guerrerro. And ‘you’ are the biggest fool I’ve ever met." Casey poked at her chest as she spoke the last words, hoping she hadn’t gone too far.
She didn’t have long to wait for her Black Velvet’s reaction. "I would give up anything, before I would lose you…you make me more than what I am. You are worth more than me, and should anything ever happen to you…I could never forgive it." Magali fixed her with her eyes, hoping Casey could see beyond her simple words.
"Impossible," Casey deadpanned.
"Huh?" Magali questioned, knitting her brow.
"That anything would happen to me," she clarified, stepping forward into Magali’s arms.
Magali raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure that?"
"Because you would never allow it." Casey whispered into her chest.
"Baby, not too long ago you were…"
Casey knew exactly where she was going; she was thinking of Webster. It was unacceptable. "I make my own decisions, Gali. You can’t take the blame for everything."
"No one has ever risked anything for me…no one." Magali snuggled into the golden hair of her Saint, breathing in her fragrance and filling herself with it. "Eres, dueña de mi alma-- You own my soul."
"That’s good…because I gave you mine a long time ago."
"If you’re gonna follow me through hell, then we walk it together."
"Now that I like…I think."
"You’re crazy…absolutely crazy, and I love every insane inch of you." She hugged the smaller woman to her, wanting to keep her there as long as possible, to shelter her with flesh and bone, with all that she had. Magali’s voice, sweet and low rumbled in her chest and into Casey’s hearing. "You have something of mine." Casey looked into the cerulean eyes for the answer to what she could possibly have. They directed her to the crumpled envelope she clutched in her hand and, smiling, she returned it to Magali, taking a firm grasp of the solid body she yearned for every night.
They stood wrapped in each other in comforting silence. Time was fleeting, and there was much left unsaid, but the contact spoke words unuttered in a way that sounds could never relay.
Black Velvet’s voice broke the quiet. "You should go, Baby."
"Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Never," She spoke in a hushed tone, leaning in close to Casey’s ear and nipping her neck. She felt the sharp intake of her Saint’s breathing, as she brushed her breast with a teasing stroke of her hand, letting her thumb trail behind. Casey couldn’t help but arch into her when Magali’s hand caressed her back, snaking its way down to cup her ass and pull her closer. A muscled thigh spread her legs open and pushed upwards. A thrill of sensation coursed through her. Heated lips fed off of her own, scorching her with her lover’s need. She was lost in the closeness.
"I’ve missed you, Baby," Magali said, pulling away from Casey. If she continued she would not be able to stop.
"I don’t want to leave you here," Casey grieved.
Magali shook her head-- the level of distress was growing, and she hated to see her Saint cry. "You don’t know what this has meant to me, but this place…it’s not where I want to see you. Bad enough for you to see me here."
Casey nodded; she understood the subtle shame Magali was hiding behind her speech. "One more thing, Daly gave me a message for you." Casey tore a page from her notepad and scribbled a few hasty lines on the paper, then handed it to her. She stepped toward the door and reached for the red button on the speaker; Magali’s hand stopped her finger from pressing it.
"I love you, vida mia." Magali voiced, bending as she did to take her Saint’s lips one last time. My life. She savored them, not breaking the contact until she pressed the intercom button herself. "Guard! You sonofabitch, I know you can hear me. This lady’s done with me." Madre de Dios, I hope that’s never true. "I’ll see you when I get out."
Casey gave her a weak smile, too close to tears to speak. Magali’s message was clear-- she didn’t want her visiting again; it was too hard, on both of them. For Casey to see her caged, and for Magali to let her go.
"Step back, Guerrerro," the speaker scratched, and Magali moved away from the door, her eyes locking on Casey’s.
Casey turned and walked out, clutching the blank notepad to her chest. Magali swallowed, hard. The sealing of the door was a knife cutting through her, severing her lifeline, and she ran to the window to catch one final look. The flap was shut, and there was only darkness.
***********************************************************
Free time…again. Just three more days…three-more-fuckin’ days. Magali glanced at the clock on the wall, and shot a look at Smoke, who gave her a brief covert nod. Greenie was braiding her hair with an inadequate comb that bent through Smoke’s tight curls, and currently she was pulling on a rather stubborn snag. Smoke had decided not to cut it when Greenie mentioned her love of longer hair. Well, at least I don’t have to worry about her; she can stay with Smoke…hopefully. Magali moved up in line and leaned against the wall impatiently. Each prisoner had a time limit of twelve minutes, but with two phones for a hundred women there was always the chance free time would end before everyone had their turn. More fights had been caused over phone time and line skipping than over anything else.
Somehow Magali had managed to keep out of solitary for the extraordinary length of three weeks; most of her sentence had been done while in it. With the work time she had done while out, she had finally accumulated enough credits to use the phone again. One to go…god damn it, hurry the fuck up. Shit, alright relax, Zee. If you start some shit now…Damn, I curse a lot don’t I? Gotta stop that shit. Shit!…aw, fuck it. She wiped her forearm across her forehead, her shirt stuck to her, a wet V staining her chest. The woman ahead of her stepped up, yelled a few angry words into the phone and then slammed the handset back into its silver holder.
"Sonofabitch won’t bring my goddamn kids…again!" she yelled to no one in particular and stomped away.
Magali shrugged and took her place in front of the battered black box. Hastily she dialed a number and tapped her foot while it rang on the other end. One, two, three…pick the fuck up!
"Yeah?" Eddie barked.
"Havin’ a good time without me?" she joked; it was encouraging to hear his voice.
"Zee! Now you fuckin’ call, Jesus fu—"
"Shut up Eddie, and listen carefully. I’m in the Hills, I get out in three days, that’s Friday. Come get me."
"Yeah, alright, Zee. You know it’s about fuckin’ time you—"
"See you then, peace," she snapped and hung up, quickly dialing another number, her hand slightly shaking.
"Hello?" Casey answered sleepily.
"Hey, Baby."
There was a moment of silence, and Magali could hear the rustling of the sheets on which she lay. "Gali…God it’s good to hear your voice."
"Not half as good as it is to hear yours. Hot enough out there for you?"
"I wouldn’t know. I have the air on."
"Ours broke; feels like an oven in here."
"Then…you must be really sweaty."
"Hmm? Yeah…looks like I just got out of the shower."
"I love it when you sweat," Casey hissed.
That did it, I think my heart just stopped. "Yeah?" Magali looked around, and cupped her hand over the mouthpiece. "How much?"
"Enough that I want you sweating over me right now."
"Umm, Baby? You’re not being nice."
"I don’t think you’d say that if you were here."
"Why?" she asked, gulping down hot air.
"Because I think you would love to see what my hand is doing," she whispered, a soft moan trailing her words.
Oh, yeah. Magali turned her back to the women that walked and breathed behind her, and gripped onto the corner of the phone. "What’s that?"
"It’s just where I need you to be…licking me, kissing me. Biting me." Another moan.
Her knuckles went white and she kicked at the wall with the tip of her boot. "God I need you, Baby."
"Mmmm, and I need you…inside me."
Magali’s heart threatened to break out of her chest, she could imagine her Saint wrapped in clean sheets, writhing. "Ba—"
"Maybe…I should just do it for you."
There was a gasp, followed by small moans that grew in intensity. She’s gonna kill me, right here. I’m gonna drop dead, and no one will know why.
"Oh, God, Gali…I need you…God, I need you. Right here, fucking me…hard."
She listened to the susurration of sheets, the groans, and cries as she pictured her Saint thrusting her fingers into herself, deeper with every passing second; Casey’s taste haunting her lips.
"Please, Gali, tell me, tell me to…"
"Come for me." Magali murmured bewitchingly. The sounds that followed gripped at her, and she squeezed her thighs together; it wasn’t enough.
"I love you , Gali," Casey uttered seductively.
"I—" The phone went dead; her time was up, and in turn she too slammed the receiver down, gritting her teeth. Shit. Okay, damn, breathe, you gotta get your head straight. She looked at the clock, fifteen minutes left; it was perfect.
Magali hadn’t taken two steps when the fighting broke out behind her. Bodies were piling into the fray, the heat giving fuel to the perpetual anger of the place. She watched an inmate get up and reach into her pocket; everything slowed. Keep your head, keep your head… With just three days left to go, the last thing any short timer would be willing to risk was more time, and she was among those on the threshold of freedom. Magali swallowed the thought down as pain sliced through her, chilling her to the bone and leaving her without breath. The ache spoke to her, telling her the assailant had done her job well. She fell to the ground, Smoke kneeling by her side, clutching the corner of Magali’s shirt screaming, "She’s hurt. Guards! She’s hurt! Somebody stabbed Zero!"
A few, including Greenie, screamed their heads off, others continued fighting until the riot squad arrived and put them to sleep. Throw a little blood onto a concrete floor in a room full of a hundred convicts sitting and fighting in a room at 101-degrees, and there’s drama. It wasn’t as bad as everyone made it seem. None knew the gash was nothing more than pierced skin, though it was made to look like a serious abdominal wound. She’d take a few stitches and a day in bed and then walk it off. It had to be convincing; the pain was real enough, she hoped the wound would be as well. Magali had clutched her side; pulling the excess skin from her waist was like holding on to a slippery reptile. With a wink she had waited, pinching the skin and pulling just as Smoke took her final step and plunged the jagged makeshift knife into her. The searing pain as the blade came out made her buckle, and she clutched the bleeding wound whispering, "Good job, Smoke. I’ll send ya what I promised." Smoke had given her a secret smile and, as she screamed out the danger of the wound, had wiped the bloody handle off on the "victim’s" shirt. I should have been an actress, Magali thought as they brought in the stretcher and wheeled her out. Shit, this hurts. Fuck you, Daly. Fuck you big time.
The nurse sliced through the waist of her jeans and cut her shirt off, wiping the blood away with a clump of gauze bandages. Was that necessary you witch? A doctor rushed in, at least someone who was pretending to be a doctor, and clucked over the wound then settled in for his sewing job. He began it before the anesthesia was working. Sonofabitch. Popping through, the hook-like needle punctured the first layer of skin, reappearing in the spongy seam of the wound and looping back in. The pulling of the gut as it went through burned, and she gritted her teeth against it, refusing to make any sound, or flinch. Every stinging bite of the needle brought her closer to strangling the doctor and doing it herself; a guard watched her for any movement, his hand idly on the handle of his gun. As the suturing neared completion, the numbness finally kicked in; a tear of sweat ran down her cheek.
When it was done, the doctor pulled a sheet over her and dumped two aspirins in her hand. The nurse came back with a small cup of water and, wincing, Magali sat up and drank it all down. She would wait for the lights to be turned down low to play out the rest of her plan. So far, so good. At least Smoke didn’t hit any organs, but hey, it’ll make a nice scar. Maybe I’ll get a tat there. She was left alone feeling like a product on a factory conveyor belt, zip, zap, plunge, you’re done. The medical staff returned to their files and coffee; she kept an eye on them. Gotta see where they keep those files.
Magali shut her eyes. It was quiet in the infirmary and somehow the air conditioning was working just fine in that section of the prison. She thought of Casey, of her conversation with her, and scowled knowing she wouldn’t have the chance to take care of the burning need left from the call. Soon…real soon. Casey’s visit weeks before, although agonizingly short, had been enough to maintain her sanity. Until today, she hadn’t had any communication with her since then, but hearing her voice and knowing she was safe gave her a measure of undeserved peace.
When she opened her eyes again, it was dark; her side was sore, and her throat was an endless desert. The air was off, and a trickle of sweat was stinging at her stitches. Figures, the staff is gone. Sitting alone in his chair was the night guard. The infirmary only ever used one under the supposition that the sick of the prison were in no condition to do much, other than lie still. They hadn’t restrained her; it was a fortunate detail she had hoped for. An open window above her head let in the night air, warm across her bare body. They hadn’t bothered to clothe her either. She sat up and flung her long legs over the side of the bed. Let’s tease the guard. She crossed her arms in front of her naked chest and walked to the window separating her from the guard. She wore nothing other than her blood stained jeans and the bandage covering her wound; it was all she needed to get his attention.
"I need your help," she husked in a silky voice.
"Wha..what, do you need?" he responded, gawking at her.
"Water…just have to wet my lips."
"That’s all? I can…do that."
"Ah ah, pain killers, I need some more of those, too." Purposefully she dropped one hand to touch her bandage, and the guard got a peek at what she had been concealing.
"Ummm, I don’t know where they are. The doctor…he …didn’t leave me a note about you or anything." He was fumbling, nearly knocking over the cup of coffee on his desk.
"I can show you, I know…where you need to get into, and make me feel all better." You stupid fuck.
He looked her over, leering as he did. "And why would I want to do anything to help you?
She let her gaze drop to his crotch; then looking him in the eye and baring both breasts, teasingly uttered "Because helping others can bring you such deep satisfaction."
He smiled, and got up straightening his belt, then reached over to open the door for her. Her long legs carried her into the room in two easy steps, right up to inches away from him. She could smell the coffee on his breath.
"So what is it you want me to do, again?" he queried with a lustful sneer, his hands resting on her waist.
"I..want…you…to-- go to sleep," she growled head butting him hard enough to knock him out. He fell hard to the floor at her feet, and she shrugged. "Minute man."
Everything was locked, and she had to use a paper clip to unlock the cabinet with the files. She leafed through the folders until she found the one she was looking for. Magali took a quick look out into the infirmary to make sure no one was coming and turned on the Xerox machine. It took forever to heat up; when it did she loaded the papers onto it quickly, making a single copy of each. She made twenty different facsimiles of prenatal records, each for a different inmate, and then shut off the machine. On the desk she found a stack of manila envelopes, scratched her address onto the surface of one with the guard’s pen, then shoved the copies into it. The prison was old, and a slot in the wall sent all out-going mail through a chute down into the mailroom. There the envelope would be stamped and sent off. She was about to walk out when the idea of playing a cruel joke on the guard occurred to her. She stooped, hooked her arms under his and, popping a stitch, slung him back onto his chair. Conveniently, his head hit the desk and he looked as if he were asleep on the job. Carefully she did away with any evidence of her ever having been in the room and re-entered the restraint area, closing the door behind her. The white of the bandage was turning red, but not enough for her to worry about, and as is, she returned to her bed, chuckling. He’ll never admit to what happened.
Morning filled the infirmary with noisy staff who teased the sleeping guard. "Hey, Ted. You’re lucky she didn’t kill you in your sleep! New guys, you just don’t get it. Think these women are harmless just cause they’re women?" Magali gave him a wink and turned over; he glowered at her and stomped out. "Idiot!" a nurse called after him. Magali snickered under the sheets and went back to sleep.
Her first breath took in the scents of freshly cut grass and damp earth after the night’s rains. A cloudless sky allowed the beaming sun’s rays to beat down on the dark fabric of the suit she wore. It was made of a heavy winter material, best suited for the arctic-like weather she had left behind with her freedom for six months of captivity. An envelope in her hand held two hundred dollars, the "gate money" all prisoners received when released. In all there were ten women who were tasting liberty that day, and they lined up to file out of the gates of hell and into purgatory. Most would climb a bus that would take them to the nearest train station. From there they would make their way back to the city or where ever else they had come from. Back to dealers and junkie friends, abusive boyfriends and children dispersed by social services into the arms of foster families. Magali was lucky; her family waited intact just outside the gates.
In one raucous wave of sound, ten Ninja cycles, parked in one neat row, gunned their engines as she walked out past the gates. At the front, its soft-top on, was her Jeep with a grinning Eddie sitting on the hood. He slid off with a neat bounce and strolled towards her, holding an open box in his hand.
"Welcome back, boss. Here." He held the box in front of her and she gave him a leering smirk. In it were her necklace, ring and the silver stud she wore in her tongue. She didn’t waste any time, donning them right away, replacing the clear plastic plug in her tongue with the real thing.
"Good to be back, Eddie. But please tell me you bought me some clothes, man. I’m gonna suffocate in this monkey suit."
"They’re in the Jeep with—" he began when he was interrupted by a flying mass of tanned skin and brown hair.
Callie, wearing little else but a pair of skimpy leather shorts, thigh high boots and a tank top with no bra, wrapped her arms around Magali’s neck. Her hardened nipples showed through the thin fabric, and she hugged Magali with all her strength, giving her a fast heated kiss on her lips. Callie scowled as Magali pushed her away and a door slammed shut with a loud thud. Blue eyes turned towards the direction of the noise to take in the sight of one angry blonde standing next to the Jeep.
Long tresses of golden hair, tinged with red, flowed from under a neatly folded and tied bandana. The glower Casey projected was cutting, even behind the dark lenses of the shades she wore. Magali swallowed at the sight of her Saint. Shoulders and sculpted midriff bare, the curve of her breasts alluring over the yellow cut of a string bikini top. Baggy jeans fell midway down her hips, exposing the thin strips of a yellow thong, and bunching on the tops of suede Timberland boots. Glimmering from her navel, on a silver hoop, was the gold letter Z that usually hung off the rearview mirror of the jeep.
"—with Casey." Eddie finally finished, glaring at Callie.
With the back of her hand Magali pushed Callie to the side and sauntered towards her Saint. Damn. She must have left her lungs somewhere, because somehow, breathing was forgotten as she placed her hands on the warm skin of Casey’s waist and drew her near.
"Hi, Honey," Casey uttered seductively, licking Magali’s lips, sure the brown-haired menace was watching.
"Mmmm, not that I’m complaining. But why are you dressed like this?"
"The weather channel said it would get hot today sometime after noon, and here you are…afternoon. Let’s get you out of these clothes," she murmured, opening the Jeep door and climbing in as she pulled Magali inside with her.
Without a word, her Saint’s hands were stripping her; her lips coating her skin with wet, hot kisses; her tongue licking the deep lines of her shoulder muscles and abs. Casey reached into the back seat and produced a clean black T-shirt and light, pleated rayon dress pants. She pulled them over her, completing her Black Velvet’s ensemble with a golden buckled belt and her favorite boots. The sleeves of the shirt were snug over her biceps, pumped as they were through the highly nutritious food of the prison and the innumerable pushups Magali had forced on herself. The golden chain and medallion around her neck shone against her chest, and she kept the crucifix of her rosary safely under the fabric and close to her skin. Casey reached up and undid the straps of the soft-top, throwing it back to dissect the Jeep and expose them to the sky and sun. Eddie was waiting, her knife in his hand held out to her. Stealing a look towards the prison, she quickly tookit, and stuffed it into her boot.
Casey climbed onto her lap and ground into her once then slipped into the passenger seat, whispering in her ear as she did "Let’s get out of here." Eddie climbed into the back seat and Magali stood up, waving to the riders and taking her seat behind the steering wheel. It was good to be free.
They took off, the wind cool and sweet, as the bikes hummed from behind. A few, Callie at their head, raced in front to form a multi-colored escort for the mistress of the underworld. As she passed, Callie blew Magali a kiss, and raising her ass high in the air—showing off the perfect curved-T rearview of her shorts—swerved into the lane. Casey growled from her seat, and Eddie shook his head.
The feel of the road under her and the warmth of the sun on her shoulders broke small cracks into the fortress walls with which she guarded herself. They melted through the steel web of indifference that cloaked her, and she couldn’t help but smile. Casey’s hand on her knee began to roam towards her inner thigh, rubbing her skin through the airy material of her pants. Blood rushed to all the right places. Up ahead, Callie continued to perform, swerving in and out of the highway lanes, while the others maintained their quasi-military ranks. She pulled up the back of her tank-top and exposed the newly inked design at the curve of her back. Swirling waves of rainbow colors knotted around one thick, scripted letter "Z". She slowed, bringing herself up next to Magali on the driver’s side.
"Like it? Something for you to look at, Zee…when you ride." Callie yelled with a growl and an evil grin over the roaring of the engine between her thighs.
Casey’s hand left her leg and opened the glove compartment; Magali’s hands froze to the wheel.
"Do it, Casey!" Eddie barked enthusiastically from the back seat, as Casey sneered.
Glimmering streaks of sunlight shone from the weapon in Casey’s grip, and Callie raced off. Magali’s hands refused to let go of the wheel, her foot, as if controlled by another force, increased its pressure on the gas pedal. Casey stood up holding onto the edge of the windshield and extended her arm.
"No, Casey, no!" Magali cried into the gushing air.
Sparks flew with the sounds of short thunder, and Magali cringed as a splattering of bone and gore hit the windshield and sprinkled her face and arms. Casey sat back down, a satisfied smirk on her face. She leaned close to Magali, replacing her hand, still holding the gun, on the dark woman’s thigh. Magali could feel the burn of the weapon’s heat.
"What’s the matter, Honey? Don’t you like me like this? It’s what you’ve made of me, what you’ve taught me," she sneered. "I’m a part of your life now…a part of you," Casey husked lustily, giving Magali’s neck a lick from collar to jaw.
Casey’s dark laughter echoed and twisted, growing fainter until she opened her eyes to the sight of a smiling nurse. The sheets were damp with her sweat.
"Well…he hasn’t been back in two nights. Must have requested another station…since we caught him sleeping that morning," she finished as she caught the blue of Magali’s open eyes. "Good morning, it’s a beautiful day, Guerrerro. You’re leaving us in just a few hours…for good I hope."
"Not just yet, Lilly. She’s got a visitor." A guard interrupted, holding a long set of manacles in his hands.
"You can’t put those on her, she has an injury at her waist," the nurse protested.
"The hell if I care…these go on whether they hurt or not. No way am I endangering Christopher Winslow himself."
"I can refuse visitors, you know?" Magali sneered from her bed as she sat up.
"Not this one, you can’t. Up on your feet, 0329, hands behind your head," he demanded, tapping his billy club against his leg.
Grudgingly she got up and did as she was told. Last day..last time, last bid, I swear it.
Christopher Winslow waited for her alone; unlike his wife, he made no requests to have her chains loosed. Captive, she bored into him with unblinking eyes that, if they could have, would have struck him dead, unflinchingly. It was the same room in which she had met with both Julia and Daly; the view was the same through the window, though she doubted any room made a difference. Third time’s a charm, she thought as she assessed him. His chin was of the strong sort, dented subtly with a crooked cleft, and clean-shaven. His clothes were expensive and austere, the kind a politician wore when he was preaching about family values while having a torrid affair with his aide. Christopher’s dark hair was slicked back, and the green of his eyes gave him an otherworldly appearance. But his hands betrayed him. As manicured as they were, his were hands that had seen hard times; and the light scar nearly hidden by his eyebrow marked him in her eyes as one of her own. You can hide it, but I see the rough-neck in you. He made a point of playing with his watch, furtively giving her a look at the tattoo on the inside of his wrist. While hers was of a closed fist, his was an open hand; the officers Magali dealt with had theirs with only the pinky and ring fingers closed.
"It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Magali Guerrerro…Bajo Zero," he said, bowing his head slightly.
"I’d say the same…Christopher Winslow. But I take my pleasures at my own leisure, not on demand."
He smiled then and gave the guards a nod. They promptly left the room. Magali didn’t take her eyes off of him.
"You plan on making this difficult?" he hissed arrogantly. "I can destroy you with a word."
"Not before I could squeeze the life out of you," she said nonchalantly, raising her eyebrow and pressing down on the booted foot she had placed at his crotch, unseen under the table. "I’m tall…they have to use longer chains on me. Somehow when I sit, I have much more room to move." She shrugged. "Threats with me will get you nothing but a shorter life span."
"Mmmm, yes I forget. How stupid of me. You kill children for sport, don’t you? Or is that only when they’re related to you? Hmmm?"
She had known it was coming when he mentioned children, and had prepared for it. "There’s nothing you can do to me, Winslow, that hasn’t already been done. You want me on your side? This ‘I’m the big man on campus’ routine is old. Try to remember who you’re talking to. In here," she pointed to the walls, "you might have some sway, but out there?" she smiled gazing at the window. "I have hundreds like you who depend on my largesse for their…endeavors. To them, you’re a little fish swimming where you shouldn’t. You have to get through them to get to me. I, on the other hand…I’m the shark," she finished, narrowing her eyes.
"Well, spoken…shark. Please pardon the expression, but I do have another card to throw on the table...before you go biting my leg off or something." he said, brushing his pants leg with his hand.
She decided she didn’t like his smile at all, it was akin to a hyena looking over a carcass, and it widened as he crooked a finger motioning to the door behind him. It opened painfully slowly, the sounds of the office just beyond its frame filtering into the room. The man who walked in brought the bile taste of her rage floating to the surface. If it weren’t for the brown of his eyes and the angle of his nose, he would have been the spitting image of her. Regal in his dark-blue suit, and with the same confident gait that came naturally to her bloodline, he floated in.
"You know my new assistant, don’t you? He has a brilliant legal career ahead of him…and enough goods on you to put you, and your whole posse in here for life…or death." He shrugged, then narrowing his eyes spat out the rest. "That includes your little bitch, Casey."
"Efrain." She sat back, clutching the chains at her waist, and lifting her chin. A mountain was crumbling above her, smothering her every route of escape. He was her older brother, arrogant and educated thanks to the blood she had shed, some hers and some not. Efrain had watched her snap the neck of their younger brother, Jorge when, in the throes of withdrawal, he had chased his elder brother to the roof of their apartment’s building. He had never forgiven her for it, and because of that, she had agreed to her father’s proposal that the young man be educated. "Move the family ahead…like the Kennedys," her father had said. She hadn’t cared about that at all, just getting the boy --and the looks he gave her-- as far away as possible was enough of a motive. Not a day passed that looking at him didn’t conjure up the dead stare on Jorge’s face when she was done with him.
"Anthony, Zee."
"Anthony? Last I checked it was Antonio..you givin’ that up too…bro’?" she asked, cocking her head.
"Pay attention, Zee. This is important. Mister Winslow is giving you one hell of an opportunity."
"You mean he’s giving you an opportunity." She didn’t want to look at him, but the steel of her eyes had the effect she desired on her brother and he wavered momentarily.
"No. He’s giving our family a chance to get out of the mud and it all starts with me, Zee. The American dream. Look at you…look at the chains around you, Magali. You’re a necessary evil, nothing more. You’re not going to live long, and you know it. It comes with the territory. You, Eddie, Callie…all of you are living on borrowed time. The future is here. Now you either let what’s left of our family stop wallowing in the shit you put us in, or…"
"What family, Efrain? There’s only you, you sonofabitch. Haven’t you gotten enough?" she yelled, the frayed ends of her tattered and bloody memories of what "family" meant rubbing her raw.
Anthony leaned in close to her ear, pausing for a breath before he spoke. "Eddie and Mariana won’t be able to take care of her forever, Magali. Eddie will inevitably die by your side in one of your ‘excursions.’ Mariana will blame you, and then…How long do you think Mariana will stand looking at the image of her husband’s killer, before she gets rid of her?"
She held onto the air in her lungs, a hot poker gutting her. "What do you want, Winslow?"
Again she was favored with his smile. "I think you and I…are gonna make a shit load of money. But more about that in…a more suitable location." His accent slipped.