Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

“Why were you wondering that?” Giorgio placed his hands in his lap.

Louis grinned.

“Why all the questions?” I asked.

“I like Gwen,” Giorgio said.

I eyed him. “Like as in you want to fuck her?”

“No.” Giorgio shrugged. “You said Gwen was off limits.”

“She is.”

“But she’s nice,” Giorgio added. “I don’t want you to hurt her.”

I gritted my teeth.

I did hurt women. Didn’t I? Had I not? Shalimar might’ve been alive.

It was all connected. Had I not betrayed her years ago, she might’ve been able to trust me with her life. But she couldn’t even trust me with her body and heart. I’d misused both.

I wouldn’t have come to me either.

We arrived at the party minutes later. Some of our most loyal men packed the place. Close to a hundred. All had that dapper look required—polished, tailored, and designer. Watches and cufflinks sparkling and shining. Haircuts slick. They’d put their best on to help me say goodbye and I appreciated it. Cigars in their mouth. Girlfriends or wives at their arms, pouring champagne. Wolves in sheep clothing. All killers on good behavior for the evening.

Family. It’s good to have them all around me. . .I’m not completely alone.

For the first time that week, I realized the party had been a good idea. Jean-Pierre had forced me to plan one. I knew it was his way of keeping my head busy. Surely, Louis had his men monitoring me. They probably knew that I’d been crying by Shalimar’s corpse every night.

They know, but they better keep their mouths closed.

I walked around, nodding when anyone came by and gave me a hug.

Can you see it, Shalimar? Do you like it?

I’d spared no cost—high end food and decor. Everything had been draped in sheer fabric, that gave a fairy forest effect. Shalimar had said once that she’d liked fairies. I hadn’t known much else about her. I hadn’t taken the time.

Next woman. . .if there’s a next. . .I will do better.

More regret came as I walked through the massive night club. Mirrors lined the walls. Lights covered tiny trees with no leaves, looking like glowing skeletons hovering over the guests. The scent of vanilla filled the air. I’d ordered the scent and had no idea how the party planner did it, but she’d come through.

I inhaled the space and thought of Shalimar.

There you go baby.

Waitresses strolled around. Body art covered their nudity—lots of lovely dragons snaking up thighs and legs.

Four gorgeous women tended bar. In every corner, a nude woman danced in a large white birdcage. Their breasts bounced as they swayed. There bare pussies moved in and out of the shadows of the bars.

Usually my cock would’ve gotten hard, from that sight alone. But I didn’t know when I would be back in the mood to fuck again or do anything with any woman.

I’m done with them. I’m done with. . .human contact.

Jean-Pierre used to say that, long ago before Eden. Now I understood. Sometimes life broke a person too much, where they wanted to go inside a cave or on top of a mountain and hide.

I need to find my mountain and get away.

A blues singer would begin performing later. I didn’t want too much loud music the first hour. I wasn’t even sure how long I would stay at my own party.

I scanned the space, taking in every face and wondering if Gwen was among them. I didn’t see her. Minutes later, Giorgio ended up dragging me to the second floor where the gambling always happened.

The second level was a long, narrow upstairs room, with a runway and a small circular stage fitted with a shiny pole. Two twins danced and twirled around it.

I clenched my jaw.

I told you no twins, Louis. No fucking twins!!

My cousin had done it, anyway, probably thinking it would cheer me up. Twins was the last thing I wanted to see. If anything, I never fucking wanted my gaze to fall on another set of twins again.

They smiled at me as they rubbed against themselves.

Don’t even think about it!

I glared.

One of them widened her eyes, probably unsure of why I appeared so mad.

Wicked temptresses of the devil.

I put my back to them and followed Giorgio to the table.

More people filled the room up here. Seven tables had been filled with men and women playing poker. Large stacks of money covered their surfaces. Some had their jewelry off and had slung it in the center of the table. Lots of feminine giggling, and cries of encouragement scattered the space.

I spotted our table further back. Eden laughed as she sat by Jean-Pierre. Surely, he was holding his cards and talked shit as only he would.

I hope you’re ready to lose your money.

Eden held cards too. A cigar dangled in her other hand, but it wasn’t lit. With that bandage on and wearing that lovely black dress, she looked like a gorgeous gangstress. Surely, Jean-Pierre saw the same thing. He couldn’t keep his gaze off of her.