Deal Making

Elizabeth

The journey there was a long and complicated one. It was a road riddled in poor choices, bad timing, and though none were through any fault of my own, I still found myself withstanding the worst of the consequences to those actions.

It had started with my father’s gambling, and then escalated at my mother’s death. By the time I realized how bad things were, truly saw how far things had sunk… well. All my mother’s possessions had been pawned to pay off my father’s unbreakable debts, and even then, he had the Lorenzo’s lackeys knocking on his door, demanding his money. When he couldn’t give it, his car had been busted up. The second time?

It was his knee cap.

So, where was here? Where was this place that I’d come, the beginning of the end, the apex of a hellish mass of worrying and suffering my family had been made to endure? Of all places, a biker bar. The last place that I ever wanted to be, but it was the only place I could imagine I could get what I needed and save my father before a busted knee cap turned into a busted skull.

Ray’s, the place was called, and it was seedy as all hell. Pulling in in my beat-up Dodge, I cringed at the thought of setting foot into that bar. It was a haven for the depraved, the desperate and the destitute. You could get anything you wanted in there – booze, drugs, women, men. The biker gang that ran it wasn’t too picky; if it could be bought, they sold it, if they wanted it they took it. They were the second most powerful crime organization in the city, next to the Lorenzo’s, and that was only because the Lorenzo blood ran so deep through the city that they had their hands in everything that the bikers of Ray’s hadn’t touched.

I stepped out onto the gravel, heels sinking between the rocks. I felt my stomach sink, too, the anxiety grip me at my core. I breathed in the air and tasted lingering hints of tobacco smoke. It almost made me crave the drag of a menthol, though my choice to quit years ago left me without. Perhaps it’d have calmed my nerves, settled the jitters that worked their way from my stomach, into my throat.

The place was crowded. Bodies were packed tight within, and the haze of smoke and flickering yellow lights didn’t help much. I ended up pressed against people, body sliding uncomfortably against strangers. The firm grip of a hand squeezed my rear; a whistle pierced through the sound of thumping rock music. These were all things I ignored, things I let slip to the back of my mind and away.

I had a singular purpose. I made my way to the back of the bar, avoiding the calls of men who noticed me. A quick glance to my phone told me that I was just a few minutes early; my promptness only made me feel more jittery. I didn’t want to have to wait much longer. The men outside the back room didn’t make it much easier on me, either. They were huge, stood a head and a half taller than me, at least. They looked down at me, smirks on their faces. Their eyes roved, though I stood straight.

“I’m Elizabeth Love,” I told them. “I’m here to see Mr. Adams?”

“You can wait until he’s done,” the man on the right said. He continued to look at me, and I felt as though I should be standing before him naked. I shifted.

“I’ll wait, then.” I didn’t want to cause any more trouble than need be. My stomach felt knotted enough as it was; I didn’t have it in me to cause a true commotion.

“Pretty thing, ain’t she, Johnny?” The one on the right spoke up. When I glanced at him, his smirk was a toothy grin.

“True thing, true thing. You doing anything tonight, sugar?”

“I’m speaking with Mr. Adams, and then I’m leaving,” I said, firm.

“Sure you don’t want to party? Sweet little thing like you. Look like you need a little breaking in –”

The reprieve of the door opening saved me. A woman stepped out, blonde, busty, beautiful. She had a dazed look to her green eyes, though, and white dusted her nose. She walked past us, wiping at her mouth. I swallowed when I saw white liquid drip from the corner of her red-smeared lips. One of the men reached out and smacked her rear. She stumbled, looked back at him, though she said nothing before going on her way. I didn’t like the implications of her state; it made me swallow nervously again.

“Have fun, cupcake,” the man on the left said to me.

I was glad that he at least didn’t touch me, too.

The doors closed behind me. I was grateful for the silence that followed. A great desk was before me, and behind that, stood a man. I barely took his features in before I looked away, my face heating. He was tucking himself back into pants that had been down at his hip. There wasn’t much guessing as to what the woman in here previously had been doing for him.

“Elizabeth Love?” The voice that greeted me was cocky sounding, as if its owner was too sure of himself for his own good. I nodded. The man laughed, and my eyes cut to him.

“Is something funny, Mr. Adams?”

He plopped himself down into his cushy chair. One of his hands ran through his sandy blonde hair; his smirk was as ever-present as the men outside. When he didn’t answer me, I stepped forward, neatly seating myself in the chair across from him. I steeled myself for the conversation at hand, for the bargain I would initiate. Too bad I didn’t possess enough steel within myself to stop my hands from trembling, clenched as they were on my lap.

“I understand that you help people,” I began, unwilling to let his amusement with me impede my purpose. “If they have something to offer in return.”

“I do,” he said simply. He lounged back, relaxed. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one with a lighter from his desk. When he offered me one, as well, I shook my head. He gave a shrug and took a drag. There was a bit of silence before he spoke again. “So what is it you need? Money? Protection? Another sort of favor? We’re generous here. For a price.” He seemed quite pleased about that. For a price. I had to fight down a grimace, and nod.

“I need money. My father is in debt –”

“And you’re being a good daughter, helping him get out of it?” His amusement seemed to mount. My jaw set.

“I’m trying.”

“I see.” He tilted his head. “So. Money. How much are we talking?”

“Eight hundred thousand dollars.” Mr. Adams let out a whistle.

“That’s a pretty price. And what are you going to do in exchange for nearly a million dollars’ worth of debt?”

Ah. Finally coming to the crux of the issue.

My heart, having beat at a steady, hard rhythm, felt like it was going to thump straight out of my body. I had made the choice, thought about it for weeks before concluding that this was what I needed to do. This, certainly, was the only way to save my father. He had nothing. I had nothing. Nothing to pawn to a broker, least, or that could be reasonably sold.

So, when I answered him, I answered with as much dignity as I could manage, and hoped the sureness with which I spoke belied the fact that I was the most afraid that I had ever been in my entire life.

“My company,” I said. “My… body. Whatever you would have of me. Whatever what you want for whatever it’s worth, for as long as it takes for my father’s debts to be erased. I just need it to be regular, so he’s paying and they see he’s paying, and they leave him alone.”

Mr. Adams regarded me for a while. I wondered if he truly needed to think about my offer – I had heard he’d take almost anything when it came to having women. And though I feared the results of him taking me up on the offer – the plea – I feared what would happen should he deny me even more. It was life and death, what rested on my shoulders. It was a heavy burden to bare and I could only hope that this man… this biker, mobster, thug of a man, would help me, even if only to see himself secure some sort of pleasure from it.

“Come here.” He beckoned me, quirking a finger over to him. I was hesitant to stand, but with no other options, what was I do to but go to him? I did so, steps hesitant. I stood before him, and he circled his fingers around, indicating that he wanted me to turn for him.

It was humiliating, but I did so. It felt like I was more a dog than a woman – an animal to be judged and appraised for its worth. When I turned back around to face him, Mr. Adams had a smirk on his face.

“You’re in luck, Elizabeth. I like what I see. Now how about a taste?”

That night was the first night that Nero Adams touched me.