Gangster chick lit

I'm glad to get out by 2am. Closing the bar and collating tips typically takes till 4am, but I've been letting the manager handle it.

 

Barra makes a big deal of the body guard thing like he always does, walking ahead of me, clearing the way with his elbows, making the most of his huge frame.

 

Sal walks next to me, handling the call to the driver. He's dying to take me through last quarters sales, and I've been avoiding because I don't quite give a fuck. Don't think I'll be able to avoid it now, his jaw seems pretty set.

 

We step out past the red carpet of the club entrance, onto the gray filthy city side walk. I would have preferred the side entrance, but the dark alley gave Barra a conniption. I'm intent on avoiding the puke and broken beer bottles - people are disgusting - so I think it's Sal grabbing my arm. Barra's howling and Sal's spluttering behind me that make me look up, into the grey green eyes of the broad who's clutching my arm.

 

"What the fuck" Barras already flung himself out from behind the car door he was holding, and grabs her arm, pushing me back but also locking us all into this three way tango. Sal gets his feet trampled behind me, swearing too.

 

"Pls. Pls help me" she rasps.

 

"For fucks sake Barra what the hell is a chick going to do to me..." I start saying, but Barra elbows me aside, without letting go of her arm.

 

He folds one of her stick like arms painfully behind her back - theatrics of that man I swear - and frisks her with the other. I'm about to smirk something out till Barra pulls out the halo tucked behind her jeans.

 

He holds it to her throat, and she stills completely.

 

He tosses her bag to Sal, who wasn't expecting it so drops it. I can almost feel Barra's eye roll. As the purse drops to the floor, the contents spew out, a lipstick rolling past the carpet near my shoe. But sure enough, the telltale butt of a gun is poking out of the bag.

 

I grab Barra's arm before he can go apeshit. It takes a minute of jostling, he's trying to body slam her into the ground, but he has a knife in his hand and he nearly slits my wrist as I stick my arm in there.

 

"What the fuck J" he's in neanderthal mode.

 

"Barra - she's just a chick. If she wanted to kill me she wouldn't be trying to talk" I manage to get that out in a reasonable tone as he's trying to put her in the ground.

 

She's still standing - I don't think she's taken a breath since B grabbed her.

 

It takes a minute, but the panic resides and order is restored. Sal picks up the bag and the contents, holding the gun and halo securely in his binder. Barra clears his head, and is still holding the chick, but no longer trying to kill her.

 

I'm about to get in the car so we can move on, but something in her eyes makes me stop.

 

"Well miss, you sure picked a shitty guy to proposition. What do you want" she's clearly been waiting, what, four hours since I went in. May as well find out.

 

-----------------

 

You fucking moron. This is me, on repeat, swearing at myself like the mother fucking moron I am. This fucking chick was a time bomb, and I should have just lobbed her to the street like the fucking grenade she was.

 

Barra looked at me bug eyed in disbelief when I told them to get her in the car. Sal, resigned, giving me a look that said he'd discuss my poor choices later. Even C, staring, mouth agape, had to be reminded to get in the drivers seat and start fucking driving.

 

She's sitting between me and Sal. He's scrunched all the way to the corner, clearly regretting his committment to presenting the quarterly variances, trying not to let the chick's jeans touch him.

 

I side eye her, noticing the layers and layers of bruises. She's wearing a thin tank under her threadbare jacket, jeans, and open toed sandals, in the middle of fucking winter. I had stripped down to my tshirt and made C turn the heater on full blast, something that made him raise his brows because he knew I hate the heat.

 

I didn't quite know what the fuck to do with her, it's not like I'm running a halfway house for domestic abuse victims. I'm taking her back to my place, and will deal with her in the morning. At the point, we all need sleep.

 

You're just a fucking bar manager. Stay in your lane. You have no goddamn business meddling with those psychotic fuckers. Just give them their cut every fucking month, and fuck off. Why the absolute fuck would you get involved. Why.

 

Barra tries to come with me, and I have to hold on to the car door from the outside to stop him from fucking getting out. One house guest is all I can handle, don't need his fat ass on my couch.

 

We go up the lift, and she hasn't made a sound. I'm guessing she didn't have much of a plan, other than escaping that murderous shit. She's probably running on fumes.

 

As we exit into my apartment, I'm flummoxed. Do I let her just run around the fucking place. What if she slits my throat in my fucking sleep? I'm not going to underestimate the desperation of someone backed into a corner with nothing to lose. I suddenly regret letting Barra go home, I could have used another person to keep an eye on her. Yeah and who's going to keep an eye on him? He'd be a zombie tomorrow - worse, a PTSD-ridden gun-toting zombie. Didn't need that shit around. He needed to sleep, I'd have to manage.

 

Best to feed her first. She's a little unsure of what to do as well. She kicks off her shoes at the entrance, following my lead.

 

I flick on the master switch, and light floods the living room. I gesture at her to sit on the kitchen stool. I pull out some pasta, throw it in the microwave, then toss in a fork and hand it to her.

 

She hasn't lifted her eyes from the counter, nor has she said a word. She silently takes the fork, and starts eating, somehow still not making a sound. I'm guessing she's had years of practice of fading out of sight so she's not noticed. Given the age and size of tits, I'm guessing she's a call girl. Caught the eye of the wrong guy, and then got embroiled in seeing too much shit, unable to get out. A frequent and old story. One that ends way too many times with death, from drugs, suicide, collateral damage, or murder.

 

"You can take a shower, and then we'll talk in the morning, ok"

 

Her eyes - now silver - flick up at me, then quickly go back down. She's trying to gauge how mad I am. Despite myself, I feel a twist of pity, what a fucking shitty world. What asshole get his rocks off on hurting people for no reason other than their sick twisted pleasure.

 

--------

 

 

She comes out of the bathroom, her face less gaunt than a few hours ago. Nothing in the world hot food and a warm shower can't help, mum always used to say. She's wearing my sweatshirt, it flops down to her thighs, comically dwarfs her arms. Her hair is wet, but she's dried her hair and her cheeks are getting some pink back instead of being ash grey.

 

 

-------

 

 

I am deep deep fucking asleep, so when I hear a click of an unfamiliar step somehing tells me to wake up, but before I can surface I feel the hand on my throat.

 

Shit. That crazy bitch led her batshit boyfriend to me and he's going to kill me. I'm moving on pure instinct, I manage to open one bleary eye and grab the arm and flip him under me before I get knifed or shot or whatever the fuck he has in mind.

 

Oh shit it's the chick. The "killer" squawks as she's flipped on the bed under my arm. She's goes down as well as a cat in a bath, she's scratching the shit out of my arms and trying to kick my balls. I'm now fully awake, and realize my mistake, but if I let go of her now she's undoubtedly going to scratch my eyes out, so I lean in as gently as I can to restrain her hell cat hands - is she a fucking octopus - and use my legs to stop her from kneeing me in the cojones.

 

"STOP! Sera. Fucking stop." I'm out of breath, because who the fuck wants to wake up like that.

 

It takes a few seconds, but she realizes what's up, and finally stills. And opens her eyes. Well shit they're emerald green today. And I realize I'm so close I can see the fascinating flecks of brown in them. I'm suddenly aware that I'm lying down on top of her. My legs have squeezed hers into submission, and my arms are holding hers above her head. Her sweatshirt - mine - jostled up to her waist so we're pretty much underwear to underwear. Let go, you moron. But my body - it's not moving. Post adrenaline slump?

 

I force my fingers to unfurl, one by one. Is she going to slash me again? No, seems not.

 

I avert my eyes and lever up on my elbows, moving my legs off her, then manage to manoeuvre off the bed without touching her any further.

 

Her eyes follow me as I stand, and for the first time she really looks at me and I see her eyes get big as she realizes I'm in only my boxers.

 

I suppress the sudden urge to explain why. It's my house for fucks sake, I'll wear what I want when I fucking sleep.

 

"What do you want" we both wince at how harshly that comes out. She's still lying there, wearing her goddamned thong in my bed, her legs miles long, pale white against my dark grey sheets.

 

"I made you breakfast. And I can't find my clothes" her voice is a little shaky, her cheeks bright pink at the manhandling, but she seems to be coming round, pulling her clothes straight and sitting up and avoiding my eyes.

 

"Errr sure. I'll be right out" I'm rubbing the back of my head to get rid of the embarrassment I've made of myself, as she scurries out of my room.

 

--------

 

I walk out respectably clad from my room, wondering what color her eyes will be, but I'm met instead with the unpleasant sight of Sal sitting in my breakfast nook. Sera is giggling at something he's said, and she's serving him some scrambled eggs, completely at ease. She seems to have found the recessed laundry room door and is wearing her tank and jeans, now clean, and I have to give it to Sal, whatever he's said to her has put a lightness to her shoulders even food and warmth hadn't managed.

 

"What the fuck Sal" Sera nearly jumps out of her skin at my expletive, and I almost feel bad.

 

"I thought this would be a good time to go through the variance reports" his flinty eyes brook steely determination. "Sera was kind enough to let me in and give me this lovely breakfast". He smiles at her as she passes him a coffee, and puts another down for herself from the other side of the kitchen counter.

 

Well nothing to be done about it. I lift my chin and glare right the fuck back at him. If he's going to chew me inside out over low sales numbers at 7AM, he'll have to wait till I've fucking eaten. I saunter over, make some coffee and noisily make my protien shake not caring that they both wince at the sound.

 

There's an awkward silence as I catch up on my emails and ignore them completely. Carter sent the closing report - good, want to shove that up Sal's ass - and the new client rep has some good ideas for the campaign which promises an 80% increase in footfall. I slowly give her my feedback, not giving a fuck that Sal is sitting back eyeballing me, and Sera is becoming jittery shuffling from one foot to another as she sips her coffee.

 

I saunter over and load the dishwasher, taking my time. Toss my laundry into the machine. Vacuum the kitchen even though I know Lourdes will be around later today to do the cleaning. And finally, when I think I can't push it any further, causally turn around and say "I'm done now let's go to the office".

 

Sal, to his credit, hasn't whined, and his face tells me he knows exactly that I'm trying to rile him and it won't work. Fine.

 

I hesitate before shutting the door - not sure if I should leave Sera unattended. She's not a fucking prisoner. It clicks shut, and the sound proofing immediately silences everything.

 

"Say what you want to say". Sal takes the wind out of my sails, I was expecting him to launch into the graphs he's holding in the ipad on his lap.

 

"I know we're down 25%, and that seems like alot, but footfall will be back up this quarter. You can tell your boss to calm the fuck down"

 

"The boss doesn't know or give a shit. I do. If you lose your footfall, your little operation becomes useless to me. When you do that, I will have the unpleasant job of arranging for your assassin, disposing your body, and even worse - finding and training some other chump to take your place.

 

"Oh just fucking kill me already. I made you an investor because I needed the capital to revamp and stay in the game. You have your pound of flesh, and I'm turning a blind eye to the assholes selling blow on my floor and moving product in my warehouse because of you. But Sal - I will not get involved in whatever the fuck is happening with the women. I am shutting this shit down right now."

 

"And how are you going to do that? You have Manual's fucking girlfriend in. your. fucking. house". Sal almost never swears, so this lapse means he's really riled. Good.

 

"Girlfriend!? Shes a fucking call girl. A goddamn concubine. He and his thugs did unspeakable shit to her. Repeatedly. Against her will. And when they murdered her friend in front of her, she's just expected to shut up and sit on her hands till it's her turn!? That may happen in your world, it does not fucking happen in mine." I wince internally at how histronic that sounds.

 

Sal calls my bluff. "You don't have any plan, other than thinking with your dick. A little like Manual may I add, keeping her alive when she could be a key murder witness. Keeping her here will make things worse - for her, when she's eventually found, and for you, for getting involved in shit above your pay grade. You're the hired help. Stay out of sight, and do your fucking job, and stay alive. It's as simple as that". Every word Sal spits put spears into me.

 

I take a deep breath, inhaling deeply because this conversation is out of control. What a fucking shitshow. I know he's right. But it's just not sitting right. But what choice do I have? I'm a fucking bar owner with an MBA. I don't know anything about this world. What the hell can I do. Turn myself over to the police? The long line of Sal's regulars include everyone from the police department foot patrol to people in mayor and prosecutors office who regularly do press on TV. I pinch my nose, hoping it will relieve the drowning I'm feeling trying to punch above my pay grade.

 

Sal sees an opportunity and pushes forward. "I can fix this for you, but you need to go over, in person, to see him. You will fucking apologize for your shitty numbers, and promise 150% sales increase over the next 3 months. With royalty. You will not breathe a word about the woman. Understood?"

 

It feels like I'm swallowing hot bile. I manage to nod, not trusting myself to speak. I may be sitting behind a desk, but Sal casually lounging on the sofa has all the fucking power and he knows it.

 

I’ll be goddamned if I let that stop me.”25% increase. One month. No fucking royalty.” And I’m pleased to see his jaw tick in annoyance. I’ll take that as a victory.

 

-------

I’ve been dragged along to kiss the ring. I’ve met Manual only once, the first time I had to make the money run. That fucker made my skin crawl, and I made Sal swear I would interact with him again. What he lacked in stature he made up in fucking psychopathy, the kind that makes your skin crawl. If Sal and I were playing chess, Manual was the thug lobbing rocks at our board. If I had known Sal came with strings attached to Manual, I would never have agreed to get into bed with his lot, no matter how desperate I was.

 

It takes us an hour’s drive to reach the estate, and a further 30 minutes just to get to the house after driving into the gate. Fucking rich assholes. I spot the helicopter first, landing behind what can only be described as a fucking castle.

 

“Oh good, Manual’s here then” Sal says cheerily “we won’t have to wait too long then.”

 

We dismount, a fucking butler opens my car door, and I’m trying not to shit my pants as I walk in and see that greasy little fucker. I don’t even notice whatever ornate shit is around, I just try not to touch anything and blend into the background so we can be done and out.

 

Sal shoots me a look to behave, as we walk in to a basement office that feels like a dungeon despite what must clearly be an obnoxiously expensive interior. He looks at the ever present iPad, no doubt telling me to stick to the numbers and fuck off. I notice he’s white knuckling the device, which is unnerving because not even Barra rattles the man.

 

It’s not a business meeting, it’s a fucking Al Capone style showdown. Manual has two beefy fuckers armed to the nines behind him, sitting like a fucking Bond villain behind the desk.

 

“Hola Uncle” Manual get up, kissing Sal’s cheeks, with a smile that doesn’t reach his beady little eyes at all. “I hope you bring me good news about this beautiful city”

 

We sit, and I can see Sal is on his guard. He angles his body so he can see Twiddledum and Twiddledee, two more guards who have come up to stand behind us.

 

“Not too bad, but getting better as your know.”

 

“Good, good.” Manual is keeping up the charade of small talk, but somethings not right, Sal is on edge and I can feel the hair at the back of my neck stand up. I see Manual gesture to a door, and yet another beefcake opens it.

 

Holy fuck, it's Carter, the bar manager. He just emailed me the report. He’s frogmarched in, with the new chick, one of the evening shift bartenders. She is ashen grey under the blue hair and tattoos. Sal next to me is unnaturally still, his hawk eyes watching everything, calculating.

 

 “I have a present for you uncle” Manual sees our expressions, and he likes that what he sees. Abject fucking terror.

“Come come, sit sit” Manual says, his hideous dead eyes crinkling in a mockery of a smile.  I’m yanked into the horror movie tea party, Carter avoiding my eye contact sweating bullets, and the chick – what is her name – cracks first. She’s blubbering, snot dribbling down her nose.

 

Manual doesn’t need a weapon, he’s terrifying as it is. He steps over, jovial, avuncular, and smiles at the girl. “Hello, little girl. Have you been naughty?” he asks like one would address a toddler. Her terrified eyes rise and fall down, her face crumples. “No no no no we haven’t I swear” she says, clutching Carter’s hand. He shifts uncomfortably – “No senor, we would never do anything we swear. We run a clean shop” and then Carter’s face crumples and he’s crying too, his breath hitching like a toddler.

“Then who the fuck has stolen my money” A gun appears in Manual’s hands, glock, nondescript, silencer muzzle on it. He taps my head with it, and I’ve had enough.

 

“Hey, I run a clean shop Manual. There isn’t any stolen money” you fucking psychopath. I manage to look him in the eye, and see only madness, no logic or reason.

 

He moves his gun to Carter’s girlfriend, who starts caterwauling. “Was it you senorita” She nearly collapses, shrieking her denials, and I know I have to do something, because it’s clear Sal isn’t.

 

I stand up, but a muscled hand shoves me down before I can rise even an inch. “Hey! Manual. I get it. This is a shakedown. You come down, show us who’s boss, and make sure we toe the line. But we run a clean shop. You have the numbers, and they don’t l----”

 

Before I can finish, Manual pulls the fucking trigger, and the bartender's brains are over the wall, the sofa, and mostly on Carter. It’s like a bomb has gone off, the sound is fucking loud, even with the silencer. Sal jumps up, protesting, I think I scream, and Carter’s mouth just gapes open as brain matter leaks down his nose into his mouth. It’s opening and closing, and words are coming out, but I can’t hear. The guards are still standing over us. Cater’s braced for the next bullet, and he’s screaming “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”.

 

I look over incredulous, and Manual lowers the gun to Carter’s forehead “How much” he says, with deadly composure. Carter is babbling about his kid, "I have a child i have a child" begging for his life, not listening, till Manual rolls his eyes and cuffs him on the head hard. “How much”

 

“A million. A million!” Carter shrieks, his hands up defense. There’s a wet patch in his pants, he’s pissed himself.

 

“How”

 

I don’t think I can breath. How did I miss this. He’s doomed us all.

 

Carter seems to get a second wind. Between the piss, snot, and tears, he straightens his spine. “We swapped the liquor. We didn’t touch the drugs, I swear. It was just me and Barbe. Troy and Sal had nothing to do with it” Oh Carter. You fool.

 

I close my eyes, as Manual shoots Carter in the face. Shit my eyes are watering. He was a good fucking kid. I should have kept a closer eye on him, goddamnit.

 

Manual looks at me, and I see my death. He raises his gun, and the black barrel comes towards me. Fuck.

“Sera! I know where Sera is.” I screech with no dignity. my knees are on the ground. I feel more than hear Sal’s sharp intake of breath. 

 

Manual’s gun doesn’t stop. It’s on my forehead, and I stop breathing. Goodbye mom. I’ll see you soon. I feel tears drip down my cheeks to my chin. I can hear the rustle of bodyguards yanking what’s left of Barbe and Carter out the door, completely unbothered by predicament. he's leaving a streak of blood and bone in their wake. My hearing goes out, and my eyes see black, and I fall to the floor because I can’t sit up anymore.

 

Someone is talking. Words. Garbled. What.

 

The guard props me up to my knees, and slaps me. I open my eyes, I’m alive. I look up, and I can see Manual’s lips moving, but I can’t hear anything.

 

“What” I manage to bumble out. He’s looming over me.

 

“What the fuck do you know about Sera” Oh.

 

I look him in the eyes, and they’re not so dead anymore. Something about Sera has made them spark. He doesn’t know what happened to her. Is it possible he didn’t order it!?

 

“Your guards gang raped her and her friend and then murdered them. Sera got away. She came to the bar.” Sal suddenly speaks up. Finally. It’s clear I’m not able to string a coherent sentence. “If we had discussed this first, instead of these… theatrics, I would have told you, just like I told you I had a plan for the lost sales.”

 

I can’t hide my rounded eyes, as I stare agape. Sal fucking knew. The thought it quickly followed by the realization of what played out here. This is why he was so fucking antsy about the quarter sales. He knew. “You knew!?”

 

Sal’s eyes laser in on me, and flick over dismissively.

 

“He’ll make it up in two months. And up your volume by 10%. And I need him to do it” Sal nods my way, dismissively.

 

 

“Make it 25%. In one month.” Manuel says and casually raises his gun again. But this time, he swings his arm and aims behind me. He lets off two shots. And I feel two thumps as the guards behind me die.

 

Sal doesn’t even blink as the blood pools near his Italian loafers.

 

And just like that, Manual walks out without a backward glance.

 

----

 

Heat

His tongue. It's inside me doing unspeakable things. 

Yes. YES. FINALLY.

After nearly a decade as dry as the sahara. Penance. Finally. YES.

His salt and pepper beard, soft, not scratchy. His hand at. Just. The. Right. Place.

There hasn't been time to talk. To explain ourselves. I haven't been interested. He was... older, but had lied on the apps. Typical. Had the right passport. And the Brit version of an Ivy league degree. And ambition, even if it was in an industry that was traditionally associated with stodgy old men. Like him actually.

He was acting like a teen in his voracious post divorce rebounding, hitting on everything vaguely female (and not, by accident). Yet a terrible boomer at the same time. And a little too proud of his conquests of girls nearly his daughter's age. Ew.

Post nut clarity apparently applies to women too. But in my defense, it seems I already knew it, but the volume had just been turned down waaayyy low because, well, mama was thirsty.

Does he even see me as anything other than a hole? God that voice in my head is annoying sometimes. Now that it's louder, I can't help but realize that it's making so much sense.

He's still enthusiastically hoovering my vagina, not having realized that I'm done, and had time to mentally pack my bags and leave.

I gently tap his head, "errmmmmm". 

Dear lord he's not letting up.

"Hey! Stop!" Oops, my parent voice leaked out.

He stops, and looks up from between my thighs, questioning, but happily clueless, and very very much still raring to go. Awkward.

"Errrr... I think I'm done" I gently scootch out before he can say anything, and start putting on my clothes. Uff asshole, had told him not to yank the lace, his ham fisted pawing at the hook has torn it a bit.

He's a little confused, still in a horny stupor, and I can see he hasn't understood.

By the time his brain catches up, I'm tucking my shirt into my pants. 

"Errr what. Wait" he's scrambling to sit up, and untangle himself from the sheets.

I'm putting my shoes on.

"Are you freaking out?"

"Nope!" Bag in hand, I do a quick check because damn I don't want to forget anything. Well maybe I am freaking out.

"Maybe I am"

His confusion clears a little bit, and it seems he's cottoning on to my mental state. 

"Ok wait. Let's talk about this" 

That fucking British accent. That's the one that got me into this trouble. No way in hell that's happening again.

"Sure! Sure! I'll call you. Actually you know, you message me once you're back in London. Have a safe flight!" Am i babbling? I'm babbling. 

"No I meant right now. Let's talk right now" he says gently, bed sheet thankfully covering nether regions, but leaving his torso mostly uncovered. Holy shit he's not fat, I'm not used to men his age without a paunch. I just manage to stop myself from asking him gym routine. Or the brand of protein supplement he's clearly using.

"NoooOoo I think that's a terrible idea, I think I'm going to go" I say as I scramble out the hotel room.

He tries to stand up, now concerned, but sees my face and pauses midfold, then sits back down.

I take that as permission to escape. I speed walk like the crazy person I am, out the door, down the hall, down the lift, past the wedding guests, and am gone gone gone gone. 

Have a horrible, horrible moment when the guard clicks closed the car door. Will they be able to smell sex on me. Of course not. I think.

I take my travel perfume and spray myself surreptitiously. And don't breathe properly till I'm back home, and have blocked and deleted his number. And blocked and deleted that damn app.

Never again.

Hot

I end my speech on time, but the organizers ask me to stay back for the acknowledgements at the end. I had told Nadia to tell them I'm on a deadline. I try to surpress my annoyance, and take deep breaths so my face doesn't reveal my inner monologue. 

Sure enough once I'm done with the closing messages and the throng of students I'm interacting with, the sun is setting in the cold winter light, and by the time I leave the campus, rush hour has started.

Fucking fuck fuckity fuck. Patience has never been my virtue. I'm gridlocked in a side lane. The tedious inching forward like nails on a blackboard. The developer must be going nuts, I told him I'd approve the last sprint an hour ago. Oh shit and the marketing team is waiting for my goahead on the final copy. Shit that means they'll have to sit late to roll out the campaign. I grab my phone to play a song, hopeful it will ease my brimming impatience. But sure enough, I open the lock screen and all the emails and messages pour through. Which is why I'm distracted, and incredibly confused when my car comes to a sudden shocking halt with a loud thud. Horns erupt around me, and I look up to see I've rear ended the guy in front of me.

Oh fucking fuck. 

I guiltily fling my phone down. My hands leave the steering wheel and are covering my gaping mouth. Oh shit this is bad. No it's good! No one's hurt. We were practically at a halt, how the hell the did car get that giant bump. Shit the repairs on this car will be fucking astronomical. Shit that poor guy I should offer to pay for his car's damage.

I'm staring in horror, mouth still agape as the man steps out of his vehicle. The motorbikes have hastily slithered away not wanting to get caught in a rush hour confrontation, giving him room to open his door. 

Oh fuck he's going to kill me. I should apologize and just offer to pay. I should keep my dad on speeddial in case he becomes abusive. How.mad does he look!?

I open my eyes and see the man unfold out of the car. Shit he's tall, he must be what over 6 feet. 

His attention is all on his back bumper, his shirt hitches up from the back revealing long lean muscles as he leans forward to check the damage. He unfolds, his jaw is clenched in incredible annoyance at what he finds, the stubble of his week old beard in dark contrast to his white tshirt. He turns, I'm met with the piercing green eyes of an extremely annoyed angry male, who finally sees me watching aghast through the windshed.

He stands for a few seconds, just looking, like he's measuring what to do. I can see his eyes go from his bumper, to mine, to me. He's just standing.

He looks pissed, but reasonable. I mentally prepping to step out and apologize and share contact details. But as I fumble for my car door, i glance over and he's still staring.

Errr ok. I hesitate a second, I was expecting him to storm over and give me an earful. I look over tentatively - what the hell is going on. 

He closes his eyes, takes a long suffering breath (ooohhh deep breathing just like  me!). His eyes open, and the green is calmer. Resigned. His shoulders drop, and before I can say or do anything he turns around and stalks back to his door.

What is he doing!? Should I get out? He turns one last time, and I have no idea why but I stop fumbling for my door, my eyes locked with this strange random handsome ass stranger.

My God he's good looking. 

He gets in the car. His brakelights turn on as he puts his car in gear, and then he inches forward the six feet the rest of the traffic has already moved ahead on.

Im left feeling strangely tingly, and I'm releived when he finally turns off the main road and I continue to limp on my way home.

Fire soul

He's sitting in on the kitchen table, sprawled over the stool as only teenagers can. Arms askew, staring at his script, porridge forgotten, a mess in the background from everything he touched to make it.

Typical teen nonsense. But I can see past it to the little boy inside  - he had really blond hair when he was a toddler, only streaks left now. And he would look up and give that smile, his brown eyes so like Sarah's I can't help feeling love tightening like a vice around my heart and throat. Maybe it's because I remember him when he was little that the snark doesn't bother me. The lasting echoes of my sister's memory.

Ulrak doesn't like him at all. I can sense the huff of disapproval as he appears at the door and takes in the mess. he thumps in, leaving his own trail of mud from his boots, followed by those bloody bears he loves. I give him a warning look to not say a word and he closes the mouth before the first word comes out.

"Good morning wife" he kisses my cheek, and the nasty beasts at his feet push repulsively past my legs, their fur wet from the early morning dew. He smells of snow and pine cones and warmth, a calming presence despite the tumult of outside he's brought in with him.

"What's your plan this morning" I settle down at the table. Balrik just shrugs, gesturing with his head towards his cabin, and I can see husband grit his teeth, but he bites his tongue and stays silent.

"I'll need to fix the fence in the woods, something got in last night, maybe wolves." Ulrak guzzles down his coffee, a man on a mission.

"I have some work also, I'll be in my workroom I'll just settle Bizil before I head out" the cabins are in a circle around the compound, and the heavy trees obscure sound even on silent snowy nights. Ulrak goes for days on his hunts, or if I get busy stocking up my potions or my meditation, I sometimes lose track of entire weeks. Till the kids came, with news of devastation and horror, drawing us to daily routines like never before.

The happy chortling of a 4 year old comes from around the corner. being the youngest, Bizil lives right here with us. Afshal her maid, follows close behind, but almost immediately starts tidying up the mess  Balrik has made. Good girl, must tell her mother she's trained her well. 

Bizil, with her blond head and joy lights up all of us. "tata chu" she calls me, as she comes towards me, but then dodges my attempt to pick her up and cage her in the chair for breakfast, and ignores Ulrak's beasts her usual favorites, and toddles over to Balrik's stool and hugs his leg "babalEE uppiEE". He good humoredly yanks her up to his lap as she squeals with joy, and then immediately upends his bowl the second she gets access to his lap. 

"Ufff" Afshal huffs, "Balreeeeek you need to be more cArful" she says, with her lilt, but she's already mopped up the mess and put the milk out of reach, bless her.

"Bring her around to my workroom at evening Afshal, I have the feathers I need to braid her hair"

  

 ----

It's twilight, and I surface from the meditative state I get into when I'm deep in my potions. I need to lower the guards because Afshal and Bizil will be coming. I've been so engrossed in my work that I haven't notice the day go by. But before I can move, I hear it. 

A creak. 

A creak from inside the cabin, when I'm alone, and it's guarded by wards so nothing can get in.

I freeze, considering my options. I could yell for Ulrak, but by the time he gets here, even if he does hear, I'd be dead. I pick up the cutting knife and tuck it into my wristband. I feel it nick me just a little, giving me an idea, but I don't have time for that. I'm still hunched over my potion like I have been for the last hour, so the intruder may not realize I know they're here. but before I can finish the thought, she emerges from the shadows. The witch. the blight that destroyed my sister. And she's brought an army. 

----

I'm panting exhausted. My circle has kept them just outside unable to kill me, but I am near defeat. i am sweating, and I know even one drop falls and touches the line, they'll come through. 

The door flings open, and for a minute I feel hope that someone has heard and is coming. but stupid stupid me, it's Bizil and Afshal. how can anyone know we are under attack. the silent snow dampens everything and my wards obscure everything else. 

The forces of darkness ripple, and the witch screams, dropping the fight and running towards the door, Bizil too much of a prize, making the witch forget me. 

and in that sliver of a second I see my only chance. I launch myself from the circle of protection. my cutting knife now unleashed. I slash my wrist, and murmur my chants of blood, runes no human should know. the witch turns, sensing danger, and I can see Afshal has picked up Bizil and is running for the horses. the witches hounds 10 feet behind.

But my focus is the witch. My jump lands me clumsily on the ground at her feet, and my only hope is to touch her with the blood curse, and bind her.

but she is too clever. 

She dances out of the way, inhuman, like a shadow to my clumsy humanity. and in that close quarters, at her mercy, she kills me. 

Or to be more specific, she pushes my soul out of my body. 

I see it crumple at her feet, as Bizil screams, a piercing piercing scream that seems to shake the trees. that poor baby. She must have seen Sarah die the same way.

But Sarah was not a witch. 

My cutting knife, iron with my blood, with my runes, is now my holding stone. The tether for my soul to this world. I had a feeling I wouldn't make it, and this was my half baked plan, thought out in feverish nights after Sarah's death. How could i save her children, if the blight ever reached us in our corner of the isolated planet.

----

I am wind. I am weightless. I am snow. I am light. I stream past the witch, out the door against my will, my lifeless body with open eyes bloody on the floor behind me. The hounds leave my corpse alone, but the witch seems to know something is up. She blows some powder at me from her belt, and seems to know I'm incorpereal. I must go and warn Ulrak. I blow past Bizil and Afshal, a flurry of snow and wind, a thought only now, love and hope and warmth to Bizil as she sobs, and an idea to Afshal- go to Balrik. Afshal seems to hear, good girl, and changes direction from Ulraks woods towards Balriks' cottage. 

God be with them now, I know Balrik will save them. they have a chance. He has defeated them before, and is more powerful than anyone I have ever known.

---

Predictably, the blasted hounds are heading towards the house, at the speed of darkness. But I am wind. I blow through, faster than their shadows, as high as the sky and as low as the snow. I can sense Ulrak, he's not in the house, still in the woods. lighting torches, he too now knows it wasn't anything ordinary that broke through. I can see that his beasts are in full armor, as is he, patrolling the trees to find the intruders. he was too far to know they were already inside. he must see me, or the squall of wind and snow I'm bringing, because he stops and turns around. away from the woods, finally looking towards the danger. I only have seconds before the beasts, they're here. so am i. i will try to help. 

His face twists with horror and worry, as he finally sees. But he screams my name as the beasts reach, his blade is up and the bears are ready, But they have a fighting chance. I carry the flames from the torches, up up above, a phoenix in the wind, and light the woods on fire, driving back the shadows of the witch. He continues to scream my name, I can sense him crying in the wind, as he fights, the light defeating the darkness.

---

The bodyguard

Dismissal bell is long and jarring, but students pour out of classrooms relieved. May's baking sun beats on her arms the second she steps out of the exit hall, the school uniform's grey skirt and short sleeved blouse doing nothing to protect her from the desert heat. 

"Hey wait up!" Eileen huffs a little pulling on her bagpack as she scrambles next to her best friend. 

Amal turns around, looking thoughtful as she surveys her friend.

"That look means nothing good for me Amal! Stop it"  

"I have an idea. I'll owe you BIG time" Amal says businesslike, as she swaps bagpacks, pulling off their hairties. 

"Wait that's my favorite hairband!" 

"Shhhh Eileen!" Amal ruthlessly scrambles her friend's hair into a lopsided ponytail, and steps back to review her handiwork with a critical eye.

"Amal! don't lose that hairband. My sister will kill me, she let me borrow it" Eileen withers under Amal's flinty stare. "Ok ok she doesn't know I took it, i HAVE to give it to her ok"

"Sure, I'll give it to you in your car. I'll be in your back seat" Amal says over her shoulder as she scuttles off to covertly duck behind some seniors exiting the gate.

Wary but used to Amal's peculiarities, Eileen shrugs and makes her way towards the gate, spotting her car and driver in the rows of chauffers and parents lined up at school dismissal time.

A straight-backed marine like young man is standing front and center, garnering a lot of attention. The older girls are giggling giving him the side eye as they pass, nudging each other. The boys surveying him just as much, rolling their eyes at the girls.

Eileen sees her car and turns to head towards it. "Nice try young lady" A gruff voice grabs Eileen's bagpack, stopping her at the gate. She turns to gape at him, and takes in his clean cut jaw, pristine ironed t-shirt (in this heat!), khaki's, and buzz-cut. He's already attracting a lot of attention from the line of people at pickup, and Eileen is too busy staring mouth agape at the gun in the holster under his shoulder.

"GUN! GUN! HELP!" she screams and thrown herself on the floor screaming, as he stares at her flabbergasted. A ripple of concerned mothers start walking towards her, along with the school chowkidar and teacher on duty. 

He throws his hands up and stands stock still, as Amal's driver runs up to explain that this was the new bodyguard. The school security guard has shuffled up and is checking his papers, and a hysterical Eileen is led away by her sister and driver who stare down the man suspiciously as they retreat to their car.

The commotion has made Eileen completely forget the last few minutes of dismissal, and she shrieks when Amal pops her mischievous head up as if nothing has happened. "Gosh, you really are dramatic, Eileen! That was AMAZING! Here's your headband." 

----

The study is dark and appropriately somber. Fadi had gotten smacked by her father's chappal so many times in that spot. She's ushered into the room with a procession of a nanny and driver like a funeral march, the stale stench of cigar smoke and AC air hitting her as she walks in. Her father is sitting autocratically behind his desk, and the bodyguard at attention, sweating on the other side.

Her father spares her the briefest of glances, disappointment, anger, resignation, and sorrow, pulling his face down into unfriendly jowls. She feels very small suddenly, shame making her drop her gaze down to her feet.

The bodyguard turns to look at her with haunted eyes, and for the first time she realizes her afternoon lark had created unintended collateral damage. 

"You couldn't tell this was the child you were supposed to guard!?" my father's voice drips with ice.

"She.. she.. they all look the same. The bagpack was the same. I'm sorry" The man's neck is corded with stress as he struggles to swallow. 

Amal wants to hide under the desk like she used to when she was little. No she wants to go back in time, to dismissal time. No she wants to go back in time even further, to before, when her family was still whole and those wooden puppets masquerading as her parents didn't exist.

"Just leave please. I'll let you know if we still need your services after today" 

"I think that's for the best" the man says as he turns and walks out. 

Her father trains his gaze on her. Amal freezes. And then suddenly, he deflates, like a balloon. His shoulders collapse, and when he raises his eyes they're old and very very tired. "I know you must have pulled this prank Amal. But honestly i cannot understand why. You KNOW we did this for your safety."

Conference in Thailand

I'm carrying my phone and charger case and rushing to catch the elevator. The hotel hallway is spacious, but there seems to be a traffic jam of people and suitcases milling in front of the elevator doors.

"Excuse me. Oops, excuse me. Sorry!" As I thread through the milleau.

I slip in along with three tall men laughing and chatting with each other, seasoned travellers from the state of their trim but well worn luggage. I stare dumbfounded at the single silver LED panel with no buttons except for G and a blank one. Which one am i supposed to press!? I thought I was on the 5th floor, why aren't there normal buttons here? I press ground and see it flashes briefly like an error sign. The elevator doesn't move.

"in ko batao kay number dalna hota hai" I turn agape to hear urdu being spoken in Thailand of all places. 

The one closest to me looks at me for a second, weighing my intellect to see if he thinks I can understand the no-doubt complicated process, then suppresses an eye roll and takes out his wallet, and pulls out a note of currency which includes bhat, rupees and a bunch of papers, and then reaches over and types out a code in the panel.

"Oh. Thank you" I mutter as I wonder how many tourists would be able to figure that out. That too with no instructions written anywhere! "Are you from Pakistan!" I turn and ask him "I am too!" 

He looks down - yes I am that much shorter - and nods and one of the other companions says "yes we work for PIA". 

"Oh cool!" I didn't know we had such tall good looking people in our airline. Good for them. Represent. Best foot forward.

We reach the ground and I come out, and the lobby is open air and has the usual milleau of people that are in hotels, cars, suitcases, people chattering in all languages, coffee tables and waiters amid the chaos.

I turn around, completely disoriented. Oh yes, the conference I was here for. It was right here in the same hotel. I walk through the mass, looking for signs that might indicate a conference hall, when I see one of those double-action doors that swings in and out as people push through it. That looks like it. 

---

It opens up to a huge outdoor auditorium. I can see the street outside, cars trundling along under the hot sunny day. I must be late because the bleachers are completely full, and it's not standing room only. I'm pretty much in the last line, but I can see the earthen stage pretty well. The show's already started it seems, but it doesn't look like it's my conference. Must be another hall, I should go back. What looks like the Thai version of a circus ring leader and a huge white beard is pointing a theatric cane at a runway. Oh it looks like an aerial show. Wow. I catch the tail of some flying contraption that's been made to look like a Chinese dragon - obviously one of those small crop dusters - is gliding out of view.  It seems too small and silent to be a plane. It must be a paraglider. The crown gasps, and I quickly look over. The Chinese dragon is looping the loop and coming back for another circle. Ok maybe a microlight, paragliders can't do that can they? It threads through an impossibly small door at the start of the runway, and the crowd aaahhhs in appreciation and claps. Then it aims perfectly for the large barn doors at the end of the runway and makes it through as the claps turn to applause.

Cute, wonder what kind of machine that is. I want to look closer - are those.. feet? But I should get back to my conference. I pass a stall, and see some yummy food items. Oh those look good. And I hear someone say my name "Nakedfeet! Is that you!" 

"OMG G! What the heck are you doing in Thailand!" my favorite bakery stall owner is standing there. I had met her at another conference in Karachi a few months ago, where she had the same line up of some of the best hummus we had ever had. 

"Oh. Thailand? I'm not sure we're in the same time" She seems puzzled and seems to be mumbling, but then shakes her head and says louder "Yeah you know me, exhibiting everywhere" She laughs dryly, but seems to be about to say something but I have to cut her off. She doesn't think she's in Thailand? How strange. 

"Hey I'm running late for something, I'll need to rush, but please let's catch up!" I turn around, and walk back through the swinging door to the hotel lobby. 

---

I see a throng of people filing into a large wooden door with "Rice Room" in neon lettering above it. That must be it.  

I walk through the coffee tables and noise, in through the doors and up the small set of carpeted stairs and am met by these two lovely women behind the counter, registration card in front. I diligently fill it out, as the lady looks on with reading glasses perched on her mid-nose. 

I file in and try to find a seat at the back. The hall seems huge, but dimly lit and pleasantly airconditioned. But before I can sit I realize I forgot my charging case, it must be at the registration desk. Shit. Curse my terrible memory.

I walk back past the late comers and stragglers. 

"Did I by any change leave my charging case here?"

The registration lady tuts "We just gave it to lost & found love, head on out back near the elevators and you'll see the gentlemen there" 

----

Yet again I'm back rushing now towards a desk that clearly has miscellaneous lost & found items on it.  

"Hi! I can see my charging case here, thank you! I just left it at the conference room registration desk" I chuckle as I pick it up. The three men in indolent postures behind the desk seem indifferent, but one is cataloguing the items and holds up a finger for me to wait.

I try not to roll my eyes, he hasn't catalogued my case. And then I realize something else. Shit! I left my phone back at the registration desk. What the hell is wrong with me!

The muggy heat seems to have made me feel like I'm swimming underwater in some dreamscape.

"Hi! I left my phone back there, should I leave this here for you to catalogue or can I just take it and run back in a bit?"

The man clearly speaks no English, but finally waves me away which I assume to mean that I'm dismissed.   

As I walk up the carpeted steps once again, I can't help but think this feels like some sort of dream. The registration lady is looking at me highly amused, but thank God hands back the phone without incident. I grab it, and check the time and realize it's already time to go and pick up R from his class.

Gosh I haven't managed to do a single thing all morning.

I rush through the double doors aiming to cut through the arena and grab a taxi so I'm not late to pick up my son.

---

Did I walk through the wrong doors? What's going on?

The arena is completely empty, and gray. The sun blocked out by grey clouds. the runaway tarmac broken and algaed, with dirty puddles. The ring leader is still there, and I'm passing through but I have to stop and ask. He seems to have a white sheep sized animal next to him. What the hell is that thing? A capybara?

"What happened, everything was just ok a few minutes ago" I can't help but shout out to him. I can't seem to see the doors that lead out to the taxi area.

"They came and destroyed the place. My beautiful in-between space. I managed to barely fend them off. I feel like I've been here a millennia" His eyes are grey and haunted, like the sky. 

I feel a chill in my spine at the words. Oh. I'm in a dream. That explains everything. Baker G must have in the same place, she had a major auto-immune that made her more spiritual than most. And those PIA guys, I realize with a chill, they were definitely angels! Not the chubby child-like ones from western mythology, the kind that dealt in souls and death as executors of God's will.

I also realize that the animal next to him must be the Chinese dragon. Of course. That explains everything. This is a dream. I should just go one and get that taxi and get my son, he must be waiting. I am about to look around for it, but can't help myself.

"Hey, you know what that means?" This is too easy, and I can't stop the wry smile from my face. He looks genuinely confused, this being from the in-between space. Time for a little human humor. "It means you beat them all and still survived"

I see the realization spark in his eyes, and go from grey to bright blue, like the Karachi sky on a hot summer morning. His grin literally lights up the sky, the clouds part, and greenery starts flowering everywhere. The Chinese dragon picks up on this, and suddenly yips and jumps in the air and the barren empty sky becomes light with a rainbow trailing behind it. He jumps into the dirty grey puddle and it becomes a beautiful blue-green swimming pool. 

The ring master is grinning, and says "Yes that's the door, go there"

I see one appear right behind me. I don't think this was there a second ago. I couldn't have made it out in time without him. "Thanks!" I call out as I push through. 

---

I instantly feel deep deep regret. I'm not longer in Thailand. I'm in what can only be the subcontinent. The unmistakable post-colonial buildings. I hear a muezzin's call to prayer - Pakistan not India then - and hear the unmistakeable clip-clop of a tonga. I'm near a school alright, but not the one where I'm supposed to pick up R.  

I hesitate for a second, in complete panic. With dreams, you never know if you can get trapped inside forever. The door is still there, and even though I can feel like I only have seconds, I have to check. I open it and poke my head through again, to find the startled ring master and his dragon look up at me. 

"This will get me back to my son, right? Right time and place?"

He nods, and it about to say something but hesitates. Oh we're running out of time. He needs me to go through immediately.

I shut the door with a resolute click, and realize I have to trust the process. 

I step out into the light.

-----

I come to. My eyes are still closed, but I know I'm in my bed. My fever seems to have broken. I reach over and fumble on the bedside table for my phone. First day of school after the break, time to start!

Something Something, part 3

Amal

I have to squint a little to see clearly at the mirror now. Did that last botox already wear off!? I can see so many damn lines! I'm trying to remember the last conversation with my sister on the latest skincare regimens it's all blurring together I wish I cared gave more of a shit about my looks.

Makeup is a 7 minute process. Clothes already done. I'm out, and relieved. It's close, so I'm driving myself, even though I swear I've suddenly started going blind when driving at night. Those fuckers who did the lasik were right, I did get nearsighted post-40. 

"O EM GEE looking so HOT babe" Sehr hugs me tight as soon as I walk in, and I can't help but laugh at how over the top she is. We all love her for it. She's wearing the fabulous new Armani, and if I still had the figure for it I would have been jealous. 

I head over to the table next to the snacks, where predictably, Fadi is sitting along with the latest arm hanger. Some things never change. "Hey old man" we hug and air kiss, and it feels good to see him again. 

"Who the hell are you and what have you done with my friend" his eyes crinkle at the corners just a bit too, and I can't help but laugh. 

"Post vacation, new earrings, new botox guy is all I need to look this good" I mock courtesy, and we both crack up.

His date is looking at me very bewildered, and I suddenly feel awkward. God she's young.

"Helloooo. You must be Fahd's bestees sister Amal! He keeps talking about you!" she says sweetly, not a guile in her sweet shiny brown eyes. God she must be at least two decades younger than that old coot. I can't help but give Fadi a WTF look at I introduce myself and hug her hello. He is unabashed and shrugs back, as if he can't help dating insanely young women, like the gross old uncles we made fun of at those Sind Club nights. What were those nights called? Aladin nights? Shazam nights? Uff to be 18 again and be able to digest all that alcohol.

She squeals loudly startling both of us. "That soooonnnnnnnggg" she screams, and a gaggle of her friends come and they all descend to the dance floor which is mercifully outside and far away enough to save our ears.

I think about not saying anything, but I have to. "Dude! What on earth is that!" I can't help but punch his arm.

"Bumble! you will not believe how many of these amazing women are on it! She's a lawyer from London!"

"That is SO unfair. All I found were some super gross married men looking for affairs. So disgusting. Oh and that asshole M"

"M!?"

I suddenly realize I hadn't mentioned M to Fadi even once for some reason. "Ohh I see Sarah calling me" and I run for it.

----

Fadi

M! M! What the actual fuck. And just like that, all the work I had done, all the therapy, just as I thought I could see a future with this crazy talented woman I met on Bumble of all fucking places, but just seeing Amal again and I've relapsed. What the fuck is wrong with me. And just like that, I feel like familiar feeling of my brain collapsing to cotton wool. Why can't I just let this shit go. Toxic circles. This. This is why I don't leave the house. How many times do I have to do this to myself!

Ok deep breaths. Breathe in. Breathe out. Count to 10. You can do this.

But it's gone. The vibe I was enjoying, gone. The drink, sour, The music, alien and jarring - who the fuck actually likes Taylor Swift. I feel this familiar cloying desperation to leave and just the fuck back home. And fall asleep on the couch doom scrolling like always. Who the fuck is M. 

I make it to the entrance, and I'm getting into the car when she comes out. 

And all those years, all those times when we've met escaping some social hell, and I've stupidly been silent, and I have no idea what happens but before I know it I'm saying "Hey. Come for a drive, let's talk"

---

Amal

I'm about the laugh and say "Trust me to find you running away" but he surprises me with that. Talk about what I want to ask, but looking at this face, I think I already know. Holy shit. A part of me is not surprised, but a part of me is as well.

"Ok" i say slowly, and we both seem surprised by that.