Maddox
When Markus knocks on the bathroom door, I climb to my feet, stretch my neck from side to side, and open and close my hands. I’ve sent Eden two texts, but I’ve had no response back. She’s probably asleep, drunk. She’ll talk to you in the morning.
“Are you alright, Boss?”
“Fine,” I say.
I go to the sink, run the cold tap, and splash the cold water on my face. When I look at myself in the mirror, I see that my eyes are bloodshot, tired. I shake my head, rub the water away with a towel, and go to the door. Markus steps back into the hallway as I open it.
“I’m sorry,” Markus mumbles.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I say. “Not you, anyway.”
“It was… her?”
“It was her,” I say. “Crazy bitch, painted a bruise on her face and grazes on her knuckles as far as I can tell. To make Eden feel guilty. Plus Eden was drunk, and that screensaver. She listened to us having…” I trail off. “But let’s get back to work, eh? This party isn’t going to guard itself.”
“You can go, Boss. I’ll take over—”
“You’re a good man, Markus,” I say. “But she won’t listen to me tonight. Maybe she’ll text me back in the morning.”
Markus and I walk down the hallway and down the stairs. The party is still in full swing, with people dancing, drinking, and laughing. Like my goddamn life hasn’t just been sabotaged, I think bitterly. Markus splits off to the opposite end of the room, and I go and stand near the door, leaning against the wall and watching the room closely. Nobody else has made trouble yet, and nobody seems to be close to making any, either. A woman with two strings of pearls around her neck, a glittery bow in her hair, and sparkling silver heels stumbles across the floor, falling into one group and now the other. But that’s the only sign of debauchery I can see. As I watch, a man takes her arm. I look at their hands: they’re wearing wedding bands. The woman smiles, and the man smiles back.
Mason Abraham waddles over to me. “Evening, Maddox,” he says.
“Evening, Mason,” I reply.
I want to warn this poor old man about Cassandra, but I can see it in his glassy eyes. He loves her. She’s hooked him, truly hooked him, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Once Cassandra puts on her act, there’s little anybody can do. Sociopathic bitch.
“Have you seen my beloved?” Mason asks.
“Afraid not,” I say.
His lips twist, and he studies me closely. “You’re a big man, aren’t you?”
I turn to him. “Something wrong, Mason?”
He looks up at me with shaking lips, his bald head shiny with sweat. “I saw you talking to her earlier,” he says.
“She came up to me,” I reply. Don’t push me, old man, not now, not after the night I’ve had. Just let me get on with my work.
“What was she saying? She looked… excited.”
“She was lecturing me about the security,” I say. “Telling me I need to station more men outside. It was dead out there, so I told her it wasn’t needed. But she insisted. Turns out she was right, ’cause that Harvard boy ran out there, didn’t he?”
“Oh.” Mason nods highhandedly, as though he’s just concluded an important piece of business. “My Cassandra is very good, isn’t she?”
“Very,” I croak.
“I trust her implicitly, you know.”
How much have you had to drink, old man?
I stay silent, and Mason goes on, “She’s got a bit of a wild streak in her, but so have I. We’re closer than I was even with my ex-wife.”
“Good for you,” I grunt.
“Oh, it’s a wonderful romance. A real blossoming romance. A real, true love.” He leans into me, and champagne and whiskey waft from between his lips, mingling with the pipe smoke. “If anyone ever hurt her, you know, there would be hell to pay.”
“I’m sure there would,” I say.
“Well, enjoy yourself, good man.” He taps me on the shoulder, and all at once I want to grab him by the wrist and twist it, break the bone, and see him wince. I stop myself, letting the anger roll inward. I’m angry with her, not her toy.
Mason waddles away, and I take my place back against the wall. I search the crowd for Cassandra, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Probably washing off that makeup. What other tricks has she got up her sleeve?
I keep thinking about Eden, about how she left the party, wondering if this is it, if she never wants to talk to me again. I wouldn’t be able to take that. It’d break me. I need Eden, I realize, shocked. I need her like I’ve never needed any other woman, like I never dreamed I’d need another woman. And she, that crazy witch lady, ruined it.
If she was a man…
If she was a man!
She’d be dead, and that’s a fact. She’d be stone cold under the earth.
Knives appears at my shoulder. “That guy is home safe,” he says. “Did I miss anything?”
“Not much,” I grunt. “Just you-know-who being crazy.”
Knives frowns. “Ah. Where’s your girl?”
“Gone, had too much to drink.”
“Everything alright? Need me to do anything?”
“Kick the shit out of me, eh? I need some distraction.”
Knives grins, all teeth. “Wouldn’t dare, Boss. Don’t fancy a spell in hospital, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Then go and check on the boys downstairs. Make sure Irish is on his best behavior.”
Knives paces through the party, away from me.
Then the candelabra lights set into the walls shimmer—and then go black.
The room fills with screams.