Vice(69)
“Dios mio,” someone mutters. “This girl, she is stunning. We should have her, my love.” I glance around, trying to see who spoke, but the crush of Fernando’s guests is pure chaos. I see who they’re talking about, though: Natalia is walking hesitantly down the staircase, her hands pressed flat against her sides, and she looks like she wants to about-face and run back to her room. She’s so incredibly beautiful. Instead of being dressed in white or black, she’s wearing a sheer green silk dress that hits the floor, cut low so that her breasts are almost on display. It’s backless, and hugs her slender figure, accentuating her curves. Her hair has been curled and shimmers as she moves, caramel shot through with spun gold. Her lips are a shock of crimson, complimenting the tan of her skin perfectly. She is the only splash of color in a monochrome world, and she is breathtaking. Men stop what they’re doing as she descends the stairs. Women, too. Her arrival is enough to bring the party to a screeching halt.
“My beautiful daughter, everybody,” Fernando says loudly, making sure everyone hears him. “Natalia, come and stand with me, child. I have someone I would like you to meet.”
Her eyes flicker to me as she passes me by, and I see how uncomfortable she is. I want to reach out and take her hand, to try and reassure her, but with so many people watching her it’s just not possible. She crosses the room, weaving her way through the mass of bodies, until she reaches her father. Fernando laces an arm around her waist, turning back to talk to the tall, slightly overweight man beside him.
I have had enough. Tolerating this bullshit before was difficult, but now that Natalia is here, it’s just unbearable. I have to act, and now. Scanning the room, I search for Harrison. He’s by the front door, talking to a beautiful red headed woman who just so happens to be naked. With his back turned, this is the perfect opportunity for me to slip away. Quickly, before anyone can notice, I head for the kitchen entrance, and toward my target. I place my hand to my ear, making a show of frowning as I pretend to listen to something in the earpiece. When I arrive in front of Art, Harrison’s guard, I tap the device, shrugging at him.
“Fuck. Harrison’s super pissed at you, man. Damn, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now.”
His eyes grow wide. “Why? I’m doing what he asked me to do.”
“He’s been trying to get you on the radio for the last ten minutes. Someone’s snooping around near Fernando’s office. He wants you to go check it out, make sure it’s nothing we should be worried about. Says he’s going to report you to Fernando if you don’t get a handle on the situation right now.”
Art looks panicked. “Shit. I swear no one’s passed through this way. I’ve been here the whole time.”
“I’m only telling you what he said, man. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“My headset must be broken. Can I borrow yours for a second?”
This clown must have a really short f*cking memory. He must have forgotten all about the night he busted down my bedroom door, and grabbed me when I was wearing nothing more than a towel. I give him a sickly-sweet smile, pushing the kitchen door open behind him.
“Yeah dude. In the kitchen, though. My radio’s on the fritz as well. Can hardly hear a thing.”
Art doesn’t even look worried. He goes ahead of me, disappearing into the hallway that leads to the kitchen, and I’m filled with a sense of euphoria. A little premature, I’ll admit, but it’s about f*cking time I let loose on these *s. Now the time has come and the moment is upon me, I almost don’t want it to end. The anticipation is addictive, but it’s nothing to what I’m about to feel.
The hallway is deserted. It won’t be for long, though. I grab the guy by the back of the collar, spinning him around, and I smash my fist into his face, sending him crashing to the ground. Blood splatters up the wall, and the guy yelps, surprise transforming his face. He scrambles, trying to get hold of his gun, but it’s too f*cking late because I already have it in my hand, and I’m ripping it from his belt.
“What the hell?” he yells. “You’re insane!”
I can’t count how many times I’ve been told this recently. Natalia’s told me enough times to make me think it might actually be true. Whether I’m sane or not isn’t something I have time to ponder right now, though. I spin the gun around in my hand and bring the butt down on Art’s head, and his eyes roll back into their sockets. A weird, gurgling noise comes out of his mouth, and his body starts to shake. Ooops. Maybe I hit him too hard. Head wounds can easily kill, depending on where you land them. I didn’t necessarily want the guy dead, per se, but I’m hardly going to hang around and make sure he doesn’t swallow his own tongue or anything. He forfeited any right he might have to my sympathy the moment he decided a paycheck was more important to him than common human decency or morals.
I grab him by the ankles and drag him down the hallway, leaving a long streak of blood on the tiles behind us. Not very subtle, but screw it. The whole world is about to come crashing down around these motherf*ckers. They’re not going to be paying attention to a blood streak in a hallway. The kitchen is far from empty. A chef stands at the cook top, focusing on the pans in front of him, and three waiters and a sous chef stand to one side, talking. They look at me when I enter, their mouths falling open, though none of them say a word as I drag the unconscious guy into the room and drop his limp body onto the ground. Slowly, I raise my finger to my lips—ssssshhh.