C9 When this is not the time

“I went to this one club to literally drink myself to death, I heard that was possible.” She clarifies. “But after a few drinks, I overheard some guys in light blue suits talking. That was actually weird they were all dressed in the same ugly blue, cheap if you ask me, suits, they even wore the same fake leather shoes and their hair. Please don’t get me started on their…” She dwells from the subject, again. Did this woman have an active brain cell or were they all just blabbering through her thoughts.

“What were they talking about?” I intervened with my patience wearing thin.

“The one guy told the others that the Casa resort was finally opening soon and that there was lots of business coming in. He said that the owner is in town from Italy and probably staying at the Resort tonight so I just thought that maybe I could come to see for myself. Maybe I could apply for a vacancy, you know? Anything would be better than nothing. I thought that maybe tonight was my lucky night. That I would bump into the owner and talk to him, but instead I ended up running into you guys.” She shrug.

“Us guys, right.” Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. I ignore her further gander. If Roberto’s guys were throwing around information like that I can bet that we will have more company soon and they will not be here for a job interview. My mind drifted to Achille. I needed to find him.

“Wait.” She suddenly jumps up from the couch catching me offguard. “Where is she?” My eyes dart directly to the empty bed in the back of the room. Fuck she is gone. That must be why Achille’s is taking so long. He will find her, but I needed to get rid of Mia, before he returns. She didn’t see anything, yet. She can still get out of this without ever needing to know more. So I pointed a gun at her? It was registered, I have the legal permits. She was on private property. I didn’t shoot her, maybe I should just shoot her and get it over with.

“Who?” I play dumb watching her walk across the room. She couldn’t have seen Madelaine, could she? Maybe she saw her passing her as she ran away. Achille is probably bringing her back here as we speak. Think Ben!

“I saw you guys carrying her in here. There were two of you.” She accuses letting her head turn viciously around looking for either Madelaine or Achille or both. Fuck! Now the only option was to kill her. "I heard you talking about what you were going to do with her and I wanted to help… help her.” She clarifies as she removes her head from under the bed where apparently people like us hide unconscious girls nowadays.

“She isn’t dead is she?” She questions, her eyes turning dark as she near me. She was getting brave. I could almost feel the heat radiating from her body once she reaches me. I was pointing a gun at her and she was worried about someone she didn’t even know or did her little clumsy mind just conveniently forget?

“Sit down,” I order her but instead of following a simple instruction she takes a step closer, closing the distance between her and the gun. I needed space to breathe. For some reason, it felt like she was smothering me. I needed her to move back before I show any weakness. “I said sit the fuck down!” This time she listened taking a step back and slowly planting her little ass on the couch she sat on before. It must be the New York air that was messing with my nervous system. It was the only conclusion that I could come to that made sense.

“Then answer me!” She yelled back. “Is. She. dead?” She questioned me in phrases like a fucking school teacher. I really wanted to tape her mouth shut by now, but that would require me to put away my gun and with her unstable personality I wasn’t sure that was such a good idea.

“I am fine.” Madelaine’s voice burst through the room as she enters from the bathroom. Her face was washed clean and her hand covered the side of her head where she was hit. Blood stained her blonde hair. “Can you guys just keep it down? My head fucking hurts.” She complains as she walks over and comfortlessly takes a seat next to Miss Emerald. Teenage girls weren’t supposed to talk like that.

What the fuck was happening? This is why I don’t traffic whores and the exact reason I don’t date. Women never know their place. They do as they please and when they don’t get their way they throw a fit. I might actually get why they get shot all the time. “And the crowd grows.” Madelaine acknowledge the second woman’s existence, before she takes a seat across her on the matching chair.

“How old are you?” Miss Talkative creases her eyes together as her words leave her mouth, directed at Madelaine. Everyone could see that she was a child. Was Roberto really that stupid or did he just not care?

“Eighteen and you?”

“Bullshit.”

“I know… the blood makes me look older, right?”

“Did he do this to you?” She points her finger in my direction, but I wasn’t planning on intervening. Whatever these two were up to could not faze me in the slightest. If they were talking to each other they weren’t talking to me.

“Him?” A smile crosses her face. “No, this was done by another dickless fuck.” She shakes her head. “You can either believe me or not when I tell you that the one that hit me over the head with the back of his gun was actually the gentleman between the two.” She scoffs. “This one almost killed me.” She says matter-of-factly.

“You know for such a young girl you have a big mouth.” I warn her, but I couldn’t disagree with her statement. She was right and I couldn’t make her out to be the liar when in fact I did almost get her killed. She could have just gone over it with a softer attitude.

“How long will we be here and will we be smuggled in containers or drugged and flown across the sea?” Madelaine’s question confused me. How did she know we were leaving America?

“Smuggled? Drugged?” Fear finally struck again in those beautiful green eyes as she repeats the terrifying words that Madelaine sprouted so easily.

My eyes move from her to Madelaine again as my mouth opens to question her, but snap-close, again. She was a smart girl.

“I told you. I know guys like you.” She answers the unspoken question before I could form the right words. She turns towards emerald. “I have been here before. Just do as they say and you might make it out alive or at least your body will survive. Your mind will never be the same, but if you are strong enough you can heal. Most importantly never run.” That explains why she was still here. She probably had much more experience in the outcome of running before, except for her run into Achille's earlier. “Make peace with it now rather than later. You do not have a say anymore, you are now a possession…”

I watch closely as Madelaine tries to inform her of what to expect. Sharing a little about herself with the newest addition to our so-called kidnapping party.

She was eleven when she was finally sold to Roberto by one of her mother’s boyfriends, but she knew abuse long before that. Her father died of an overdose earlier on in her life, she can’t recall any memories of him and her mother shared her body with strange men from early on in exchange for heroin. She was ruined even before her life started.

I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened to her if someone like me has heard about her earlier. She might have had a chance in life. I would have made sure of that. “That is me in a nutshell.” Her voice was a little friendlier now.

I couldn’t listen to her going on any further about what to expect in the coming days, listening to Madelaine telling her that she might get dosed with narcotics or abused over and over again, before getting sold off to the highest bidder. What was this? Taken? “Maybe if you are lucky you get bought by a real nice pimp who takes good care of you.” She adds. The first thing I am doing when we get back is get Madelaine to a therapist.

“…What is your name?” She questions and my hearing immediately sharpens. Atlast something I would also want to know.

“Mia.” She sobs. Everything about her shouted Italian except for everything didn’t say Italian at all. She was as loud and overpowering, but also as fragile and dependent.

“Well isn’t this a party?” Achille growls from behind me and the girl’s eyes shoot up from their intense chatter.