Vicious Minds: Part 2 (Children of Vice 5)

“A street thug and a paid killer are professionals, beasts of prey…who have dissociated themselves from the rest of humanity and can now see human beings in the same way that trout fishermen see trout.”

~ Willard Gaylin

ETHAN

“Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to get in?” she nearly yelled as she pulled up in front of the house in my car, the sound of the wheels screeching to a halt in front of the steps where I stood still echoing in my ear.

Of all the cars in our garage…she chose this one? I said nothing and got in on the passenger’s side and leaned back in the seat.

“Seatbelt please,” she said politely, and I just stared, so she stared back, not moving until I did what she had asked. She was insufferable sometimes.

However, I wore the damn seatbelt, and not even a second later, she stomped on the accelerator like a NASCAR driver. She sped out of the driveway so quickly that I felt the pressure through my back. I did not think the gates would have time to open all the way, but she managed to get through. Part of me worried that there may be some paint chipped off the sides.

“You are aware this is a three-million-dollar car, correct?” I asked her as she overtook the car in front of her and sped down the back streets.

She was already pushing eighty miles per hour. “Nope, I just thought it matched my outfit.” She glanced over at me with a smile.

“Any other black car wouldn’t fit your outfit?”

“But none of them were custom Bugattis,” she replied, pressing her foot down even farther, taking us to ninety. “Don’t worry, I’ll return your precious car back to you in one piece,” she said as she passed another car, barely beating a red light before turning sharply onto the interstate.

I shook my head, trying to let it go. But I had a bad feeling, especially with her being so polite all of a sudden. Bad things happened when Calliope was nice. It meant she was bottling up her rage, holding back, saving her energy…for what? I still did not know.

“Do you want to tell me this plan of yours anytime soon?”

“Step one, get Ethan and take him out on a date,” she replied.

I looked at her, and she was luckily watching the road. “A date?”

“Yes, a date. You know that thing where two people who like each other go out and spend time together in public.”

“You are not a fan of dates.”

“No, Calliope Orsini was not a fan of dates. Calliope Callahan is.”

“Calliope Orsini and Calliope Callahan are one and the same, aren’t they?”

She glanced at me seriously. “No. Both are very different people.”

“One would think you were bipolar the way you try to separate yourself.”

“I do not care what one thinks…I care what you think.”

“I think this not a good time for a date.”

“Nonsense. This is a perfect time for a date. I’ve been waiting for you to take me out, but you are too busy choking me and leaving me to deal with your family.”

“I am—”

“I reserved us tables at le Morceau D'ambre,” she replied, cutting me off as if I were not speaking. “I heard they have the best breakfast in the city. I am very interested in their pancakes. I heard the chef layers them with lobster, caviar and truffles, and finishes with Dom Perignon Rose hollandaise sauce—this fucker!” She honked loudly at the minivan in front of her.

And as if our lives were a comedy and not a Machiavellian opera, the old woman in the van happened to be a nun, carrying other nuns. I looked at Calliope, whose face bunched up as she was also not expecting that. She slowed down as they looked at the car disapprovingly. They couldn’t see inside since the windows were tinted, but from Calliope’s expression, you would have thought they’d singled her out. I couldn’t help it…I snickered a bit.

“Shut up,” she snapped.

“I did not say anything.”

“Yes, but I can feel you thinking it.”