Consent (The Loan Shark Duet 2)

Charlie is looking through his window, humming a song. I manage to tweak the radio enough to find a Country and Western station he likes. Checking the petrol gauge, I groan inwardly. The tank is near empty. At the first petrol station after Midrand, I fill up and use my last cash to buy a few supplies from the Quick shop, which are mostly snacks for Charlie. I don’t dare withdraw money at the ATM with my card. It will be too easy to track. I should have remembered to do that before I started out.

My gut twists and churns the farther we crawl away from Johannesburg, the city of gold that is ruled by a man as beautiful and ruined as the place itself, a man who’ll kill us if he finds us.

When the skyline of Sandton disappears from my rearview mirror, a crippling notion of loss and loneliness hits me. The emotions throw me off kilter. Shock runs through me. I miss Gabriel. That makes me twisted and sick. It must be the hormones. Yes, I’m not myself. Uninvited tears sting my eyes. Swatting at them, I force my gaze on the road ahead.

Don’t look back.

There is only Charlie, me, and my baby now.

We’ll make it. We’ll survive.

I have no idea where I’m heading until we hit the sign announcing the three-way split. If we carry on straight, we head north toward Polokwane. I don’t know the area. The only remaining options are Bloemfontein or Durban. Durban isn’t as far away as Bloemfontein, and the weather is less harsh. Without financial means, Durban is the better option. Plus, I can make it there on a tank of petrol, whereas I’ll run out of fuel in the middle of nowhere, long before I hit Bloemfontein.

The sign for the N3 appears. I change lanes and enter the interchange that takes me over the highway and east. With a flick of the indicator, I decide our destiny and future.

Gabriel

The guy I took out this afternoon was scum, but today the violence leaves a bad taste in my mouth. All I want is to go home to Valentina, crawl into her body, and melt into her bed. Things between us have changed. No matter how much I lie to myself, she’s no longer the toy I pickpocketed from her life. She’s something––someone––I want enough to break every rule in the book to keep. She’s no longer my captive. I’m hers.

My addiction has grown over the months to an all-consuming obsession. Despite the coldness inside of me, she awakens emotions I thought I didn’t have. She makes me feel things I’ve never felt before––gratitude, regret, joy, and fear––and even if these feelings scare me shitless, I want more.

When I get home, I dismiss Rhett and Quincy and go upstairs for a shower. I don’t want to face my girl covered in blood. Washing the stench of my sins away, I think about her and what I want to do to her body. The thoughts make me hard. If I wasn’t so impatient to plant my cock in her body, I would’ve made myself come first so I can last longer, but my urgency is palpable. I towel myself dry quickly and dress in slacks and a shirt.

My heartbeat speeds up as I make my way to the kitchen. At this hour, Valentina will be ironing. It irks me to see her work so hard, to see her work at all, but it’s not for much longer. The minute she falls pregnant, everything will change.

Silence greets me when I enter the kitchen. The counters are tidy and wiped down. Marie has already left for the day. An eerie emptiness presses down on the space. I don’t like it. I quicken my step, putting my head around the scullery doorframe, but there’s no one. A sickening sensation settles over my body. Every nerve ending tingles. Rushing to the maid quarters, I jerk open the door. Valentina’s bed is made. Oscar is sleeping on her pillow. My leg hurts from the force I put on it as I limp to the bathroom.

Empty.

With a growing feeling of dread, I fling the cabinets open. Everything seems to be there. The cosmetics and bath salts I bought are neatly stacked. Back in her bedroom, I do the same with her closet. The clothes, shoes, jewelry, books, and other knick-knacks I got for Valentina are there. Still, something is wrong. I know it in my gut.

Standing there, absorbing the chill from the descending night, the molecules of my body go flat and cold. An overpowering sense of abandonment fills me. Then the fear hits, hot and liquid, rippling over me in a wave. If Magda did something to Valentina… If she hurt her… I swear to God I’ll kill my mother.