“No, Athena. You aren’t gonna make a scene, you aren’t gonna to do anything but what I’ve said. Understand?” I took her hand and put it under my arm and around the waistband of my pants so she could feel the butt of the gun I had back there.
She choked on a sob. I took her hand into mine and walked, fast. She struggled to keep up with me. She had tears in her eyes but she held it together and we headed to my car.
When we got in and the doors were closed, she let out a big breath.
“I don’t want to go to your parents’ house. Just take me back to your house and get the beating over with.”
I laughed, “The beating? You think that’s all that’s gonna happen?” She stared at me wide-eyed.
I leaned toward her, “How ‘bout I burn the Crenshaw house down, put your douchebag of a father in the ground, castrate that punk you used to date, and pick one of your little girlfriends to be shipped off to a whorehouse in Mexico? How’s that for a start?”
She cowered against the door. I grabbed her chin and made her look at me, “You’ve really fucked up. Not only did you take off but your actions have my sister thinking that things aren’t cool with you and me, and what’s with you and me is nobody’s fucking business. You broke two rules. Now I’ve had a good chunk of busy people involved in trying to find you and that means a lot of people know that my fiancée took off from me. Talk about an absolute cluster fuck!”
The tires on my car squealed out of the parking lot, “We’re going to my father’s house and you’ll behave yourself or you’ll be sorry. Very fucking sorry. So much for this morning, huh? Conniving little bitch.”
Tia
I couldn’t catch my breath, I was hyperventilating. I couldn’t settle down. I was gasping and I was going to throw up. Until now I knew Tommy Ferrano was scary, crazy scary, but I had no idea he was this horrifying.
“Pull over; I’m gonna puke.” I always threw up when I got super stressed.
He pushed his foot down and the car started moving even faster. I put my head in my hands, leaned forward and took a succession of slow and deep breaths, but it was no use, whatever was in my stomach was coming up,
“Pull over!” I hollered, and started to wretch, the puke came up into my throat and I managed to stop it from going projectile all over the windshield. I yanked off my seatbelt. He squealed the tires, slamming on the brakes, jerking me forward, making me bump my head on the dashboard. I shoved open the door and he reached for my arm but I shrugged him off and got my head out and threw up all over the road.
After a minute, after I was sure there was nothing else coming up, I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes. I wish I’d had the nerve and the strength to run but he had a gun. A gun.
Fuck my life…
He sat for a minute and in my peripheral vision I could see his chest was heaving. Finally, he let go of the hem of my dress, which I hadn’t realized he had in his grasp. Then he picked up his phone and dialed a number, then put it to his ear, opening the glove box with his free hand and flinging a stack of napkins in my direction.
“Dare? Yeah. Tell Pop I can’t make dinner. No. Yeah. Yup. Right, bye.”
Then he dialed again, “Earl? You there yet? Yeah, I’ve got her. We’re on our way there. See you in 15. You have back-up? Still? Whatever, just keep a watchful eye. I’ll see you soon.”
He started the car and then leaned over me. I flinched but he just fastened my seatbelt and then we were back on the road. I was relieved to not have to meet his family and sit at a table with them, pretending nothing was wrong.
What I was not relieved about was getting to the master bedroom, the place that had become my torture chamber. Because even when he wasn’t torturing my body he was torturing my brain.
The ride was quiet but the air was thick with tension. Tommy’s face was stone cold and he was white-knuckled all the way back to his house. I was petrified and wished I could just disappear into thin air or that we’d get pulled over and get a speeding ticket so that I could beg the cop to rescue me from this maniac.
The gate at his place opened and the car squealed to a halt. I saw Earl with a frown on his face. He looked at Tommy, then me, and I swear I saw what looked like pity. Tommy and I both got out of the car and just as I was about to round the front of the car I saw Earl approach me from the side. His hand came up over my mouth and I was being pulled backwards. I caught Tommy’s expression and the look on his face was utterly murderous.
I heard a loud bang. Oh God, that
was Earl shooting at Tommy! Tommy hit the ground, half way behind his car, produced his gun, and fired it in our direction. Earl fired back at Tommy and Tommy’s gun hit the ground. I saw a man come up from around the back of the house and Earl shot him. A dark red hole formed on that guy’s forehead and the man fell face first onto the ground. I was dragged backwards past the gate and tossed into the back seat of a big older car out on the street. I heard a few more shots.
There were two men in the car with Earl and me. What on earth? Earl had a gunshot wound in his shoulder. Were they rescuing me? I looked at Earl, confused. He leaned over in the back seat of the car, wincing. There was another man on my left side, a slim black man with a mustache, and there was a man in the front seat driving who sort of looked like the Machete movie actor, Danny something or another. Tall, Mexican, long ponytail. But younger.
“Are you rescuing me?” I asked.
The driver spoke, “Be quiet, miss. All will be revealed.”
They drove to the airport. The airport? Then we drove into a hangar and there was a lot going on. People rushing everywhere, forklifts, it was mayhem. I was ushered into a big white plane with no lettering. There were only a few seats in the back; the rest of it was wide open with just a few skids that were shrink-wrapped on it.
“Are you rescuing me, Earl?” I asked again. The slim black guy ripped earl’s shirt sleeve off and was inspecting the wound on his shoulder.
“Good, there’s an exit wound.” He reported and pulled out a first aid kit.