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1.
Jagged glass and half filled shot glasses. She picked her way around the floor, over the gray carpet stains and broken bottles. Her backpack slung over her shoulder, she wended her way silently through the living room, trying desperately to reach the safety of her room. “Just ten more steps,” she told herself breathlessly. “Nine… eight…”
The door to the side of the living room creaked open. Her heart stopped. She froze at the entrance to her room, panic filling her veins.
“You back, rat? Stupid shit. You left your room a mess, stupid kid. C’mere. I gotta teach you to stop.”
She wished she could escape, fight back, run away - but she was powerless in the face of what was beyond that door. She braced herself for what was coming, clenching her shoulders and drawing up her arms. And it came.
2.
I bounce along Eden street in Narin, jumbles of bright colored shopping bags on my arms. Tora sulks beside me, his perpetual pout marring his face. No bags on those muscular arms. “I’ll come along as yer bodyguard,” he had grimaced. “But f*ck if I’m yer personal butler.” No worries. I am elated with my Christmas shopping trip: notebooks for Poppy (bright pink tiger stripes. Thank you, you’re welcome.); designer sweatpants for Tora (I had heavily considered an ‘Exploring My Feelings’ journal, but I didn’t want to get punched in the face); a gift certificate to a tech store for Gyu (I would have gotten him an actual product but he’s a snob about such things); apple pie and taco split pea chips for Jacob (Erdene still ribs him for that); and a luminescent nail polish set for Erdene along with an appointment to get our nails done together.
There’s one more person I want to buy a present for. But Cordy is such a bundle of hot wires that I am afraid to set her off. She wouldn’t want clothing- too independent and sure of her own taste. She wouldn’t want jewelry- she laughs at it. A book? I don’t think she reads. There’s only one thing I know she likes for sure…
My eyes glance up at the adult toy store up ahead. “Hey, honeyboo!” I stop dead in the middle of the street, flinging my arms out, smacking Tora in the eye. “I’m headed to the toy shop!” and I dash out madly before Tora can follow and pulverize me. He wouldn’t step foot into the shop. I hope.
Once inside, I let my eyes wander. It’s not like I haven’t been here before - it’s just that I’ve never been here to buy anything for Cordy. Cordy believes she doesn’t need any help- what she’s got is good enough, and I can’t say I disagree. Except.... I turn to a section I’ve never allowed myself to visit before. My eyes fall on a set of faux-fur lined handcuffs. They instantly zoom to the cheetah print blindfold and sleek metal pinwheel. In a hurry, before I can think too hard, I stuff all these into a shopping basket, throw in a black leather crop for good measure, and hurry up to the counter. I pay and rush out, almost bumping into Tora, who is leaning against the glass wall and actually peering intently at the display.
I follow his gaze and see it resting upon a lacy piece of pink lingerie on a busty mannequin. “I’m sure she’d love it!” I sing out. I am not fast enough to avoid his fist connecting with my forehead. He turns around quickly and stomps away, a scowl on his face. I rub my forehead, grinning. Worth it.
3.
6 year old Quincy lay on the floor of his room, his ear pressed to the crack between the door and the floor, listening in on the evening clan meeting taking place in his home. He heard words he didn’t understand, boring things about money and shops and guns. He leaned back and looked around his room. Vovo his stuffed elephant was on the bed where he had carefully arranged him, along with his two children, Reggie and Panthy. Vovo took very good care of his baby elephants and never let them out of his sight.
Suddenly, Quincy’s ears perked up. He scooched his pajama-ed behind up to the door and opened it a crack. There he was! Dad! Dad was home!
He listened some more with growing impatience to the noise he didn’t understand. He didn’t care about those grown-ups with their fancy suits and polished shoes. He just cared about Dad. Dad was almost never home and he was so excited to hear him that his heart was jumping up and down in his chest.
He opened the door and padded down the hallway quickly. He knew Dad didn’t like it when he talked to him while he was talking with other people, but he had so many things he wanted to tell him.
He bounced towards the long wooden table with a smile on his face. “Dad! Dad! Me and Tora played this really cool game today! It was *so* cool! We kicked a ball, and then we cut it open, and then we lit it on fire, and-”
“Quincy,” his dad spoke from behind his chair. Quincy couldn’t even see his face. “What did I tell you about interrupting my meetings?” Quincy didn’t miss a beat. “You said not to bother you, but Dad, this was so cool, you’re gonna love it! Cuz the ball, when we lit it on fire, it-”
“Quinceton,” his father interjected coldly. “I do not want to hear about your ball. Or the fire. I do not want to hear anything. Go back to bed.”
“But dad!” Quincy faltered. “It was so amaz-”
“Quinceton,” he heard heat rising in his father’s voice. “I’m warning you.”
“But-” He didn’t get to finish. He suddenly felt a giant boulder pummel into his face, again and again and again. He cried out, confused, and tripped back, landing on his behind. He gazed up at the impassive faces of the men around him. The new guy- Shing?- was the only one to meet his eye. He looked around from face to face, and with a sob, turned around and ran back to his room, throwing himself on his bed, grabbing Vovo and Reggie and Panthy to him and burying his stinging face in their soft cushions. “Daddy!” he choked out, trying to muffle his sounds so no one would hear him down the hall.
He had never seen his face.
4.
I look at the screen, delighted with what I see. “Erdene!” I clap my hands together. “You are a MASTER of design!”
She swivels around in her chair to face me and puts her hands up in the air. “Quincy, I know you like to go all out, and so do I!”
I am entranced by the party invitation she designed: navy with white swirls of snow, and shimmering silver letters inviting receivers to a Christmas Eve party at my house. “Girl, you are the best! Gonna send it right now!”
I download the invitation and text it to Tora, Gyu, Poppy, Jacob, and Erdene, for good measure. I hesitate a moment, my finger hovering over the phone until I quickly type ‘Cordy’ into the receiver box.
“Would be great to see you, darling. Good food, good people. You can spend the night.”
I pause.
“I have something for you.”
She responds later that night.
“Better be good. I’ll be there.”
I smile.
5.
She’d been planning for this moment for a long time.
New apartment? Check.
New job? Check.
New identity? That took some work, but check.
New muscles? Only a year of hours in the gym, spent pummeling the punching bag until sweat dripped down her face and veins stood out on her forehead.
She hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders and looked around. Small room. No windows. Faded bedspread, neat as always. All her clothes, hanging in the closet and folded in cardboard boxes because she’d never had a dresser. She didn’t want ‘em. She was getting new ones. Her one stuffed animal, the only one she’d saved from Dad’s vindictive knife, tucked safely between a pair of jeans in her backpack.
She drew in a breath and squared her shoulders. This was it.
She slammed open the bedroom door and strode out. No more slowly edging the door open. No more tiptoeing to the kitchen, hoping to find some food in the middle of the night when no one was awake. No more hiding herself, no more taking crap from anybody.
She marched into the living room. Dad was sitting on the ratty couch, springs poking through holes and worn patches trailing threads. His gaze was unfocused as his hand clasped a half full shotglass filled with whiskey, the last thing he could keep his grip on.
She towered over him, drawn up to her full height. Looked him dead in the eye.
“I’m leaving.” She announced, her voice cold and even.
“Eh?” Her father squinted at her through half lidded eyes. “Where you going?”
“Somewhere far away.” The fury began to rise within her. “Somewhere you’ll never find me. Somewhere better, where I’ll live my life!” She was shouting now. With each sentence she pulled back her fist and landed it on her father’s face.
“Where no one will beat me! No one will starve me! No one will take my money and my food and my clothes! No one will tell me I’m worthless or a piece of crud or a weakling! Where I will NEVER EVER EVER take shit from anybody EVER AGAIN!”
Her father collapsed on the couch, bleeding from his nose, eyes closed. She saw his chest rise and fall. With a grim look, she washed her hands, turned around, and strode out of the house, chin up, ready to meet the world.
6.
There was something unusual about that boy.
It had been several years since she’d left her home. Years during which she had built her life, piece by excruciating piece. She had educated herself, found herself a place in the hierarchy, sharpened her skills, impressed the right people. She wouldn’t say she was happy but she was grimly pleased. She had freedom. She had respect. She was away.
And through the years, some had tried to approach her. Some to show love, some to show concern, but all of them, she pushed away. She needed no one and no one needed her. No one was to be trusted. Everyone was rotten at the core.
But here before her was an enigma. Fresh-faced, ebullient, loud, with a grin pasted on his face like his life depended on it. Blonde, a snazzy dresser, personality a mile wide, and always cheery.
Common enough, in the right circles.
But she was at a club in clan territory and before her was the son of the mafia boss himself, Vincent Balthuman. What right did someone like him have to be so happy?
Suddenly, he stood before her. “Hello, gorgeous!” he sang out. “I haven’t seen you around! What’s your name?”
Cordy only stared at him, not bothering to disguise the scorn and surprise on her face.
“Shy now, are we?” The blonde boy opened his eyes wide in mock sympathy.
Cordy let her mouth open.
“Well, I can talk enough for the both of us! I’m Quincy! Some call me Quincess. Can’t fathom why! What’s your name?”
Utter silence.
“That’s ok!” He clapped his hands together and plopped down in the seat next to her. “I’ll give you a name!”
He turned to her suddenly, moved closer, and peered intently into her eyes, his face inches from hers. She flinched. His eyes were round and aquamarine, and though they were very bright, she read in them a sort of desperation, a neediness, a hunger. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, but betrayed no emotion.
The blonde boy leaned back, satisfied. “I shall call you Sugar Plum.”
7.
“Goodbye! Thanks for coming, honeyboos! It was LOVELY to have you here!” I show Tora and Poppy to the door. They tried, but they couldn’t keep their hands off each other during the party. “You were SOOOOO cute and I can’t wait to put you in my next novel!”
Tora shoots a death glare at me, but I’ve had years to get inured. Poppy blushes. “Thanks, Quince! It was a great party!”
“Yes, I know!” I remark absent-mindedly as I close the door. Erdene has just left, with Damien, of course, and Jacob left earlier with his girlfriend Meg. Gyu could only come for a short time; he had work. Poor boo boo. I hope the $200 I gave him will help.
I turn back to the living room excitedly. Everyone helped clean up, so there is nothing to do but enjoy my sweet munchkin-pie.
“Sugar plum?” I call out. “Where you at?”
“Under your nose, bozo,” I hear from, well, under my nose.
Cordy is lying on the couch, an amused expression on her face. I plop myself onto her, and she lets out a big “Oof!” and punches me on the back.
I don’t mind. “Darling,” I say, putting my nose on her nose. “I am SO happy you came to the Christmas party. I know you aren’t here often.”
“Well, don’t get used to it,” she teases, pulling my ear.
“Hey, honey, guess what?”
“What?” she opens her eyes in mock anticipation.
“I got you a Christmas present!” I bounce excitedly, still lying flat on Cordy, causing her to bounce too.
“Oh,” she opens her mouth. “Well, let’s see it.”
I jump off the couch, and rush to the closet, where I pull out a gift bag. Cordy sits up on the couch and I kneel on the floor beside her and hand her the bag. “It’s… well… I hope… you’ll see.” I feel anxious, and my heart beats a little faster.
Cordy pulls out the cheetah print blindfold first. It looks like an eyemask, so it doesn’t elicit any response. Next, she pulls out the fur-lined handcuffs. Her eyebrows rise. Next, the pinwheel, and last, the leather crop. A smile plays on her lips. She looks at me. I look back, nervous.
“So Quince…” she turns to me slowly, “What exactly were you planning on doing with these?”
“Well,” I lick my lips, “I was uh- I was hoping that- I was thinking- well, I assume you wouldn’t like if I used them on you, so maybe- I thought you might like to use them on me?”
She laughs, then leans her face close to mine, so close I can feel the warmth of her cheek. “So you bought this present for me, but you really bought it for you?”
I gulp. “If… if you put it that way…”
Cordy puts her mouth in my ear. “Lie down on the couch.”
I blink.
She stands up, looming over me. “I said, lie down on the couch.”
I quickly scramble up and lay myself down on my gray cloth couch. Cordy throws the blindfold at me. “Put these on.”
I pull the blindcloth on over my eyes, feeling the soft silken underside embrace my eyes. The blindfold is weighted, and between that and the darkness, I feel soothed.
Suddenly, I feel Cordy’s hands at my hips, pulling my Christmas turtleneck over my head.
“You,” she states authoritatively as she stops with my hands caught above me. “Don’t do anything. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t move unless I say so.”
I nod, and Cordy catches my chin with her hand. “Don’t move.”
I lay still. Cordy finishes pulling my ugly sweater off. I feel the air on my bare chest and the slightly scratchy couch on my back. Cordy suddenly sits on my stomach, her knee pointed into my chest. For once, she is wearing a dress, soft and velvety, so I feel the fabric on my lower stomach.
She puts my hands together. I hear a rustle in the bag, and then she traps my wrists in the handcuffs, and locks them to the legs of a side table near the couch. I try pulling, experimentally. She slaps my wrists.
“So….” she purrs. “The grand Quincess, all trapped beneath me…” She squeezes my biceps. “Can those muscles get you out now?”
She breathes her warm breath in my ear, then moves her face along my body, blowing her breath. I strain beneath her, and I can feel Cordy smiling. “Oh, this is good.”
Cordy takes her time exploring all the gifts in the bag. She seems to relish her role, and I mine. The evening passes in a mix of sharply felt sensations and emotions.
When we are done, Cordy plops down beside me and pulls my eyemask off. She wraps her arms around me and snuggles into the crook of my neck.
“So…” she croons, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “You really liked that!”
I gaze up at the tall ceiling and wonder why moisture is tickling my eyes, wondering why in all the pain I felt only safety; why in the whipping, I felt a strange kind of redemption; why as she hit me, I felt wanted. I look up and I wonder, and I look down at her looking up at me, her silver eyes smiling, and my heart constricts and I want to say “Cordy, I love you, will you be with me forever and always make me feel this way?” but I see the growing look of panic in her eyes, and I only lean my face down and kiss her temple, and say, “Merry Christmas, Cordy.”