The Midnight Society: Penumbra Part 27

"Your G-spot?"

"f.u.c.k," I gasped. "I want to do to you what you just did to me."

He shook his head. "I don't think you want to go digging for my G-spot," he replied.

"Then let me make you c.u.m the way you did for me."

This time, Lincoln allowed me to reach down for his belt but just as I undid the clasp, the cell phone buried in his right pocket-next to his protruding erection-rang.

"f.u.c.k me," he cursed.

"Ignore it," I said.

He pulled out the phone and looked at it. From the look on his face, I knew who it was.

It had to be Shadow.

I felt guilty all of a sudden.

But did I really need to? It was Shadow who had abandoned me, left me feeling worse about myself when I was already wading through s.h.i.+t. I could read between the lines-we had already separated, despite the lack of confirmation on his part.

What I did here was not cheating.

So why did I feel like I was?

Lincoln answered the call. "h.e.l.lo...yes by tomorrow hopefully we'll have three million cash on hand...believe it or not, Aria will be the one making the final play for it...she's-" there was noticeable pause as he swallowed, "-doing good."

I took a deep breath, and suddenly felt ashamed that my panties were around my ankles while Lincoln spoke on the phone to Shadow. I pulled them up and got my a.s.s off the piano, but not before my right b.u.t.t cheek grazed a few of the notes.

"Yes, that was her playing," Lincoln said as he looked at me, regret painted across his face. "You want to speak to her?" he said it more as a surprise than as a question.

Shadow wanted to talk to me? No, I couldn't. Not after what had just happened between Lincoln and me. I bit my lip and shook my head.

"She's not up for it," Lincoln replied. "...well can you blame her? You treated her like s.h.i.+t for the past few weeks." Suddenly his voice took on a tone of anger. "You're too stubborn and pigheaded to realize that you're losing a girl that's one-in-a-million...there is no reasons for treating someone so lovely so poorly...fine..." Lincoln closed his eyes and exhaled. "I'll tell her."

He hung up the phone and turned to me.

"Tell me what?" I asked.

Lincoln opened his eyes again and pursed his lips. He looked tired-like a man who had shoved yet another ugly skeleton into the already overstuffed closet of his. "He wanted you to know that he'll speak to you when we all returned home. In the meantime, be careful."

I walked over to the table and grabbed the bottle-perhaps the catalyst for that moment of intense pleasure which now turned into overwhelming guilt. What did Shadow want to say to me when we got back?

That we were finished? To get the f.u.c.k out of his life?

"How did he say it?" I asked as I poured myself another drink. "What was his tone like? Please tell me the truth."

Lincoln didn't answer right away, and for a moment it looked as if he were debating what to say. I didn't think I could take another lie from anyone at this moment.

I needed to know the true intent behind Shadow's words.

"Hold the silver watch while you say it," I said. "Hold the totem of truth."

He looked surprised by the suggestion, but nodded and pulled it out of his pocket. Lincoln took a deep breath and said, "Shadow said it like he missed you," Lincoln replied, "Like he loves you."

I stared at the gla.s.s of whiskey in my hand and set it down. I began crying-stupid weak me. It was an ugly cry that was caused by Shadow squeezing at my heart.

I buried my head into my hands, hiding my face from Lincoln.

"We can just forget this ever happened," he said, though there was a noticeable pain hidden behind his words.

"Please," I said in between sobs, my hand still concealing my face. "I just want to be left alone for a while." I couldn't look at him at the moment.

Lincoln said nothing as he left the flat, allowing me to wallow in my misery and guilt. His footsteps were slow-a departure from the usual quickness to his step-and I couldn't help but picture the last walk of a man, heading towards the gallows.

I fell asleep at the table, my head resting on my arms. For the first time, I didn't dream about Justin burning alive. Instead, I dreamt about Shadow.

He was drowning in a black, endless ocean.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Shadow "You know what one of the highlights of Hong Kong is?" Cairo asked as he grabbed a Chinese pork bun and walked over to the cash register of the 7-11.

"What?" I replied, only half-paying attention to him. I took a deep breath and shoved my cellphone back into my pocket.

I couldn't shake the feeling that we were walking into a trap. There was a strong possibility that this was going to be my last night on earth.

If that was true, then my final wish was to hear Aria's voice one last time; her voice that was as sweet as music.

It's funny how the prospect of dying changed your views on everything-including being an insensitive p.r.i.c.k.

I wanted to make amends.

I wanted tell her that I was sorry for pus.h.i.+ng her away-that I just couldn't trust myself around her. I wouldn't have been able to protect her.

I couldn't be the man she wanted.

However she didn't want to speak to me, which was fair. I had been a d.i.c.k.

I was also worried about how deep she had gone into the seedy underbelly of the Midnight Society.

Aria will be making the final play for it, Lincoln had said. I feared what dangers that potentially involved. I wanted to tell her to be careful, that I wanted to see her unharmed when we all returned. That we should have a talk between us, the one that she deserved. That I still cared for her and loved her.

But we didn't talk.

Perhaps it was best this way.

"Are you still listening to me?" Cairo asked. I s.h.i.+fted my focus to the entrance of the Bamboo Lily restaurant across the street. We were waiting for Elena and her men to arrive. Nathan was already inside with his crew.

"What do you like best about Hong Kong?" I asked, feigning interest just to please Cairo.

"It's the fact that they allow you to drink on the streets," he said. "I remember one night, after a fight, I stopped by a 7-11 and decided that I needed a beer. I picked up a Heinnekin, wandered out into the street and drank it just like that. I kept walking until I found another 7-11, grabbed another beer and went back outside. I almost made it a game, trying to find 7-11s on my way home, grabbing beers and chugging them."

I looked at Cairo and raised a brow. "Do you know how pathetic that sounds?"

"Why is that pathetic?"

"I'm not going to bother telling you," I said, shaking my head. "But maybe if you laid off the post-fight convenience store beer crawls, you would have won our fight."

"a.s.shole," Cairo snarled, as he popped the entire pork bun in his mouth and devoured it in five chews. He s.h.i.+fted the conversation to more pressing matters. "Elena arrived yet?"

I peered out the gla.s.s window and shook my head.

What I did see was a white man, with the cylindrical physique of a barrel, crossing the street while holding the hand of a little girl who I pegged to be around five years old.

He was an odd looking guy who stuck out like a middle finger. His hair was greasy and matted to his head, and he had on the thickest pair of square gla.s.ses I'd ever seen. He wore a collared plaid s.h.i.+rt, b.u.t.ton all the way up to his neck, and baggy track pants. His face displayed a permanent scowl.

The little girl, on the other hand, was very cute, with round chubby cheeks and a wide smile. She wore her strawberry blonde hair in pigtails.

If this guy was the father, the girl must have definitely taken on her mother's looks.

The man entered into the 7-11 with the girl, who was clinging onto his arm and jumping up and down.

"Twizzlers?" she asked, all excited. The man with gla.s.ses looked at me with tiny eyes through thick lenses, and then nodded. I had no idea if the nod was directed at me or in response to the little girl's question.

Suddenly a silver Mercedes Benz SUV pulled up in front of the restaurant. The driver and two thick men in suits exited the car. One of them opened the right side door of the back seat and out stepped Elena, wearing a modest black dress that hugged her curvy body tightly. I had to admit, she looked stunning, especially with her delicate Asian features.

"s.h.i.+t man, that's her?" Cairo asked. "That's Elena?"

I nodded.

"Wow."

"You know that stupid ritual where they forced me to choose a bride?"

Cairo nodded.

"She was there. I turned her down."

"Holy s.h.i.+t. I can only imagine how stunning the girl you chose must have been if you turned down that fine piece over there."

I imagined Aria, sitting in front of the piano, absorbed in her music. G.o.d, she was so beautiful.

I shrugged off the image. I needed to focus.

"Ready to go?" I asked.

Cairo shrugged. "Are you still confident that Nathan won't stab you in the back and then hand you over to Elena?"

"No," I replied, truthfully.

"Great," Cairo muttered. "Do you have a plan B?"

"No."

"f.u.c.k. Are you going to get me killed?"

"Stop being a pansy," I replied. "Come on."

I was worried though. As we crossed the street to the Bamboo Lily, the only thought in my mind was "Nathan, if you double cross me, I'll rip your throat out."

We walked around the back of the restaurant, through the alleyways, where two of Nathan's men waited for us, by the door of the back entrance. One of them was Tsung.

"Everything should be in place now," he said.

"Good," I replied, but just as I was about to open the door, Tsung extended his hand out, blocking the way.

"We'll need this to look realistic," he said, drawing a gun out from his jacket. "We don't want her thinking that something was amiss."

I looked at Tsung skeptically. "No, we wouldn't want that," I said sarcastically. He pressed the gun behind my back while the other guard pointed his semi-automatic in Cairo's direction.

This was beginning to look like the set up I was expecting.

I wondered what kind of offer Nathan could have received from Elena that could have matched mine. Maybe she was giving him something extra on the side-something I definitely couldn't give him: Her body.

That f.u.c.king dog.

"Inside," Tsung said.

I did as instructed, opening the door and entering into the large kitchen of the restaurant. There were cooks inside, scrubbing pots and pans, and from the looks of the steaming plates of rich foods on the steel countertops, they had just finished cooking.

"Hungry?" Tsung asked, noticing my eyes glancing over the plates of steamed fish, roasted duck, sweet and sour pork, and shark finned soup.

"No," I replied.

"Too bad. The cooks spent a lot of time preparing this food."

I shrugged. "They can eat it then."