Very Wicked Things
Page 32
“You look like me, Katerina,” he murmured.
“I look like me,” I said, determined to not be lulled into dropping my guard with him.
He examined me, like a scientist would an insect, making me fidget and fix my skirt.
And as his cold eyes broke me down bit by bit, I remembered the nights Mama would wait for him to come, and he never showed. Because he went to see his other girlfriends, she told me, the ones without kids. Those words had wounded me, and for a long time, I’d blamed myself for her unhappiness. But now I knew the truth, of course. She’d lashed out at me because I was the only one there.
“It appears Sarah owes me money,” he stated.
Reminiscing was over.
“I find it hard to believe. Show me the proof.” Bluff, bluff, bluff.
He chuckled. “She came in a few months ago and asked for twenty thousand. She signed her name, saying she’d repay within a month. The proof is me. I do not lie about money. It would not be good for my reputation.” He held his finger up. “Since she is your guardian, I let the interest slide. It was…a gift. But she has taken advantage of my generosity. Three months overdue with her payment is not good.”
My mouth opened. “A gift? You let a sick woman borrow money.”
His brow creased. “Sick?”
“Early onset Alzheimer’s.”
“That is unfortunate. She seemed fine when I saw her.” He spread his hands wide.
She’s not, I wanted to shout.
“Our building is for sale. When it sells, I’ll pay you.” Of course, those funds were earmarked to get us out of Ratcliffe and pay for Sarah’s care in the years to come—or now.
He wagged his finger. “You are a bright girl. Smart to sell the house. But, the note is overdue, and I am not a patient man.”
Oh, I know. I could clearly remember all the times he’d lost his temper with Mama.
“We don’t have the money,” I said, my voice betraying me with its unsteadiness.
He stood and walked behind my chair where he rested his hands on my shoulders. “Katarina, tell me why people pay me back the money I loan them?” He lifted a strand of my hair and twirled it around his finger.
I eased forward in my seat as far from him as I could, but he tugged me back, pressing me into the back of the chair.
I swallowed. “Because you’ll hurt them if they don’t.”
“It’s amazingly simple.” I heard the smile in his voice. “If people believed I’d give them more time, they’d think me weak. I despise weakness. Are you weak, Katerina?”
I shook my head. But I was weak. I’d never stood up for my mama; I’d never jumped in to save her.
I wasn’t brave or strong like Joan of Arc.
He came around to face me, and I smelled his aftershave, something mossy and dark. Revulsion coursed through me at our proximity.
“A business like mine is not established over-night. It takes time to teach the neighborhood what you’re capable of. It’s like training a dog to sit. You can tell the dog to sit, but he won’t get it until the choke chain is tightened. Because he needs the proper amount of pain to understand the master means business. If he thinks the command to sit might not bring pain, he might test me and resist the command.”
He sighed. “And, I hate disobedience. Our neighborhood was trained long ago that disobedience means swift pain. This makes my business easier and more pleasant. You understand?”
Yes.
The room seemed to shrink, and I gripped the edge of my seat, feeling as if my own choke chain was being tightened. I licked my dry lips. “Look, I want to give you your money now, but I don’t have it.” I held up a finger. “But once the house sells, I can throw in extra, perhaps the interest you didn’t charge?” I met his gaze, trying to read him, but it was impossible. “The market isn’t good for Ratcliffe right now, but I know it will sell. We just need the right buyer. It’s in a fair location for a business. And with the apartments upstairs—”
He tsked, interrupting me. “There is payment or there is pain. This is the only way it can be. No negotiation.”
The room grew quiet as I contemplated his words and he contemplated me, perhaps deciding if I was a predator like him or prey like my mother.
It’s hard to accept when a parent doesn’t love you, but it’s even more difficult when they simply feel nothing. I really didn’t matter to him except as a means to an end. I mean, I’ve always known he didn’t care, but he had brought me food a few times when I was at the end of my rope. Why had he done it? Perhaps he’d still have a smidge of feeling for my mama. Perhaps his conscience couldn’t allow an innocent child to die from neglect. Or perhaps more chillingly, he’d wanted to assess me, study me while she was gone. Had he ever considered hurting me too? Had he entertained the thought of ramming his fists into my flesh…or worse? I cringed, thinking back to the past, wondering about those times he’d come to the apartment, if he’d been a hair-trigger away from devouring me.
I swallowed. “We don’t have the money. We simply don’t. I could sell my car, and everything else we own, but there’s no way I can get anywhere close to twenty thousand. We don’t even have good credit at the bank, but once we sell the house—”
“Be quiet,” he barked, making me jump. I shrank back in my seat as far as I could.
He turned to a brown duffle that had been sitting on his desk. He unzipped it.
“I look like me,” I said, determined to not be lulled into dropping my guard with him.
He examined me, like a scientist would an insect, making me fidget and fix my skirt.
And as his cold eyes broke me down bit by bit, I remembered the nights Mama would wait for him to come, and he never showed. Because he went to see his other girlfriends, she told me, the ones without kids. Those words had wounded me, and for a long time, I’d blamed myself for her unhappiness. But now I knew the truth, of course. She’d lashed out at me because I was the only one there.
“It appears Sarah owes me money,” he stated.
Reminiscing was over.
“I find it hard to believe. Show me the proof.” Bluff, bluff, bluff.
He chuckled. “She came in a few months ago and asked for twenty thousand. She signed her name, saying she’d repay within a month. The proof is me. I do not lie about money. It would not be good for my reputation.” He held his finger up. “Since she is your guardian, I let the interest slide. It was…a gift. But she has taken advantage of my generosity. Three months overdue with her payment is not good.”
My mouth opened. “A gift? You let a sick woman borrow money.”
His brow creased. “Sick?”
“Early onset Alzheimer’s.”
“That is unfortunate. She seemed fine when I saw her.” He spread his hands wide.
She’s not, I wanted to shout.
“Our building is for sale. When it sells, I’ll pay you.” Of course, those funds were earmarked to get us out of Ratcliffe and pay for Sarah’s care in the years to come—or now.
He wagged his finger. “You are a bright girl. Smart to sell the house. But, the note is overdue, and I am not a patient man.”
Oh, I know. I could clearly remember all the times he’d lost his temper with Mama.
“We don’t have the money,” I said, my voice betraying me with its unsteadiness.
He stood and walked behind my chair where he rested his hands on my shoulders. “Katarina, tell me why people pay me back the money I loan them?” He lifted a strand of my hair and twirled it around his finger.
I eased forward in my seat as far from him as I could, but he tugged me back, pressing me into the back of the chair.
I swallowed. “Because you’ll hurt them if they don’t.”
“It’s amazingly simple.” I heard the smile in his voice. “If people believed I’d give them more time, they’d think me weak. I despise weakness. Are you weak, Katerina?”
I shook my head. But I was weak. I’d never stood up for my mama; I’d never jumped in to save her.
I wasn’t brave or strong like Joan of Arc.
He came around to face me, and I smelled his aftershave, something mossy and dark. Revulsion coursed through me at our proximity.
“A business like mine is not established over-night. It takes time to teach the neighborhood what you’re capable of. It’s like training a dog to sit. You can tell the dog to sit, but he won’t get it until the choke chain is tightened. Because he needs the proper amount of pain to understand the master means business. If he thinks the command to sit might not bring pain, he might test me and resist the command.”
He sighed. “And, I hate disobedience. Our neighborhood was trained long ago that disobedience means swift pain. This makes my business easier and more pleasant. You understand?”
Yes.
The room seemed to shrink, and I gripped the edge of my seat, feeling as if my own choke chain was being tightened. I licked my dry lips. “Look, I want to give you your money now, but I don’t have it.” I held up a finger. “But once the house sells, I can throw in extra, perhaps the interest you didn’t charge?” I met his gaze, trying to read him, but it was impossible. “The market isn’t good for Ratcliffe right now, but I know it will sell. We just need the right buyer. It’s in a fair location for a business. And with the apartments upstairs—”
He tsked, interrupting me. “There is payment or there is pain. This is the only way it can be. No negotiation.”
The room grew quiet as I contemplated his words and he contemplated me, perhaps deciding if I was a predator like him or prey like my mother.
It’s hard to accept when a parent doesn’t love you, but it’s even more difficult when they simply feel nothing. I really didn’t matter to him except as a means to an end. I mean, I’ve always known he didn’t care, but he had brought me food a few times when I was at the end of my rope. Why had he done it? Perhaps he’d still have a smidge of feeling for my mama. Perhaps his conscience couldn’t allow an innocent child to die from neglect. Or perhaps more chillingly, he’d wanted to assess me, study me while she was gone. Had he ever considered hurting me too? Had he entertained the thought of ramming his fists into my flesh…or worse? I cringed, thinking back to the past, wondering about those times he’d come to the apartment, if he’d been a hair-trigger away from devouring me.
I swallowed. “We don’t have the money. We simply don’t. I could sell my car, and everything else we own, but there’s no way I can get anywhere close to twenty thousand. We don’t even have good credit at the bank, but once we sell the house—”
“Be quiet,” he barked, making me jump. I shrank back in my seat as far as I could.
He turned to a brown duffle that had been sitting on his desk. He unzipped it.
