Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (44 page)

“I understand, sir. I really do. I don’t want to be found and I want us to be safe.” I pause for a moment. “Who is you
r enforcer?”

Stanton gives me a p
roud smile. “You know how the elder, heir, and enforcer are exempt from the game plays. Most use enforcers that were passed down the generations- fathers to sons, uncle to nephew, brother-to-brother.”

“Like Jon, JJ, and Wil or Ray Hunter and Cortez?”

“Exactly,” Stanton says. “My family is small. Only the ones with Green blood can be played. I have other siblings from my mother’s second marriage, but they are safe. It’s just me, Bianca, and Caleb. Bianca is my heir and Caleb is my enforcer. We are virtually unplayable.”

“That’s the military…” I trail off.

“Part of it,” he admits. “It was in Caleb’s best interests. He didn’t want to be tamed, so I turned him into something that could be controlled. Right now I don’t need an enforcer, as Grant doesn’t. But within a few years, we will be playing ruthlessly to win. It’s three-to-four, our side for the loss. With Zeitler and Regal joining us in a decade, it’s time to get down to business.” Stanton folds his hands on the tabletop and stares me down.

“Rule three: you are a child. You may feel like an adult. You may think l
ike an adult, for the most part,” he pointedly adds. “But you are a child, and you will behave as such. You will ask permission. You will only do as permission grants. You break the rules, you will be punished,” Stanton coldly says.

“Okay,” I whimper, knowing I will be a huge disappointment. “Yes, sir.”

“Faith,” Stanton says to regain my attention. My eyes had dropped to my breakfast plate. “Love, affection, caring, trust, and friendship can’t be bought or sold. If you fuck up, you will be punished. That is all. I won’t judge. I won’t hold it over your head. I won’t forget, but I will forgive. You are a kid, and as a kid, you are bound to fuck up. Adults do as well. It’s the only way to learn and grow as a human being,” Stanton quietly says, hand reaching across the table to clasp my hands. His large palm covers both of my hands.

“Okay,” I sniffle. “I can’t… there is nothing about me that is perfect. I just want you to know that I will mess up,” I mumble.

“Of that I have little doubt. I have a daughter and a brother I raise. I have four other little shits running around upstate at my parents’ house. I know how kids act. I basically just want you to be a kid. I expect you to fuck it up. I look forward to teaching you why it was wrong.”

“That sounded kinda creepy, Stanton,” I snort.

“You and I are destined to butt heads,” Stanton says in a way that sounds like he looks forward to it. “I will tell you about myself, and then I will tell you what I expect from you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“My father was the original Green Elder. We have him to thank for being in this business and the game. My father was a brutal bastard, so brutal that my mother fled for her life when she found out she was pregnant with Caleb. My mom lived with my grandparents for a long time. I chose to stay with my father because he would allow nothing less. When Caleb was three and I was fifteen, my father fought for custody of his sons and won. My mother is now remarried with four kids. My siblings were born one right after the other- they are eleven, nine, eight, and seven. Bianca visits often. I want her to feel her aunts and uncles are her siblings. I’ve raised Caleb and Bianca as brother and sister. I didn’t want Caleb taking charge because he was her uncle.”

Stanton smoothly flows from his seat and starts to pick up the table. “My mother has the nuclear family she always wanted. My father is dead from a heart attack, which is also a blessing. Caleb no longer tries to run my business, and Bianca is a sweet, happy child. Life is good,” Stanton says with a satisfied smile, but I hear the underlying
don’t fuck it up
.

I help Stanton clear the table and search for plastic wrap to save the leftovers. Stanton makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat when I fill the basin with water to wash the dishes.

“Do you have a girlfriend or a mistress?” I ask, knowing it’s inappropriate, but I need to know if random women will show up in the apartment.

“No, I don’t. Bianca is my priority… and now you, too. I don’t have time for women. I’m a workaholic
, and all of my spare time is for my family.” Stanton rummages around the freezer, pulling out a roast to defrost for dinner.

“What do you…” I trail off.

“Faith, don’t go there,” he warns. “That is very private.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, turning the water pressure up, hoping to drown out this uncomfortable conversation.

“I understand why you would think it was okay to ask that because of how the past few months have played out. Just know that I take care of business in private- away from my family. Okay?” Stanton kindly says. He refuses to end the uncomfortable conversation until it’s resolved.

“Okay,” I bashfully agree.

“Duties,” Stanton says, shutting off the tap so I have to listen. “Bianca has chores: beds, bathrooms, dusting, and garbage. I do the dishes and cooking. But now that you are here, I’d rather use that time to spend it with you girls. So your domain is the kitchen and making sure Bianca does her chores. While Bianca is at school, you will be at the Black Death.”

“Really,” I excitedly gasp. “I… can… I can still work there,” I say in shock.

“One of my people will escort you to work after you drop Bianca at school. They will pick you up and take you to get Bianca after school. Chores and homework are to follow. Then I will be home, and we will do what normal people do. You have to find a hobby for the weekends or you will go insane- study something or exercise, preferably both. You need to mentally and physically exercise your body. It will center you and help you deal with stress.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything you suggest. I’m just so happy that I can still go to work,” I say in a daze.

Stanton chuckles. “Rex is one of mine, and that’s the only reason I feel safe sending you to work.”

“Oh,” I grumble, feeling momentarily defeated.

“Get your shoes. I’ll give you a tour of where you and Bianca are allowed within this building and where you are absolutely not allowed to bring your sister,” Stanton stresses.

I was happy to see that there are stairs that connect the ground floor to our apartment to the roof. No other floors open into the stairwell, though. It’s very secure.

Stanton shows me his, Bianca’s, and Caleb’s bedrooms. Stanton’s is very masculine, decorated in burgundy. Bianca’s is like a princess’ chamber filled with a rainbow of color. Caleb’s is gray and very organized- like a barracks. A corkboard is filled with mementos of days gone by. A picture of Ezra and Caleb, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, dressed in soccer uniforms has me gasping in surprise. They have to be ten or twelve. Ez looks happy and at ease. It must have been before his manic break. Cort is in the picture too, refusing to join in the hug. He’s glaring at Caleb, a glare I know well.

The apartment is basically the open room and our bedrooms and bathrooms- nothing else. Stanton shows me the roof. It has an enclosed wall that is four feet high so that we can’t fall to our deaths. A seating area and play area is set up in the center of the roof. A telescope is pointed, not at the sky, but at the building across the street- peep, much? I can tell they spend a lot of time up here since there is no yard to play in or no park
nearby. From the roof, I can see the place Grant spoke about last night- Transcend. No wonder Regina thought she owned the place. It’s a block from where she lived.

Stanton takes me around the building, pointing and saying yes and no.
Yes, you can be here. No, Bianca cannot
. There are an awfully lot of noes spoken. He shows me everywhere and everything. I, however, don’t get any noes. I can go anywhere in the building as long as Stanton or Caleb is with me. I’m not allowed to go into the
no Bianca zones
unless I’m with one of the Green brothers. Those areas are for business only.

We walk down the halls on the second, third, and forth floor- apartments for his employees. This is a
no Faith zone.
Stanton doesn’t trust me to be alone with anyone. I’m to act my age, and young women don’t have sex. I almost pissed my pants when he said no sex. If he catches me with one of his employees, he will punish me and the employee, and fire the guy. He stressed that it would be
my
fault, and I would have to shoulder the blame of ruining some guy’s future.

When I tested him by saying Caleb was
close to my age, could I fuck him, I thought Stanton was going to have a stroke. After a few minutes of difficulty breathing, Stanton said that as long as we used protection and it was before Caleb turned eighteen, he wouldn’t kill us. Stanton wasn’t joking, I could see it in his eyes- he’d actually kill us… and I was just yanking his chain. I only know what a twelve-year-old Caleb looks like- stocky, light brown hair and clear blue eyes. Twelve isn’t my type. My slut of a body is interested in knowing what that kid grew up into, though.

As Stanton gave me the tour, I found out he is real big on the sex thing. I’m not allowed to have a boyfriend until I’m eighteen, and since I will be here until I’m eighteen… no boyfriends and no sex. He growls when he talks about sex between a minor and an adult. I was informed that even if it’s seconds before my bell tolls adulthood, he will beat the shit out of me if it’s a dude eighteen and over. I hear Grant saying sexual hangups and wonder what he told Stanton, but I don’t have the balls to ask the intimidating man. I’ll ask Grant next time I see him.

The last stop on our tour is the sofa. Stanton sits down next to me, turning to the side to face me. He has an intense expression on his face and it makes me worry. The large, warm hand enveloping mine propels me into panic mode.

“I spoke with your sister this morning. We can’t find Lara
, so she is out. Fate said the decision should be up to you,” Stanton softly says, emotions thick in his voice.

“What decision,” I whisper, knowing what will come next.

“Thomas’ arrangements, Faith, what would you like to do?”

“I don’t want my name anymore,” I quickly say to change the subject. I just can’t talk about that right now. It’s too soon and not soon enough. “You’re a criminal mastermind, get me a new identity,” I demand.

“Fine,” Stanton dramatically sighs, as if I’m being impossible. “Be that way,” he grumps. “A new name for a decision,” he negotiates.

“That’s fair,” I agree, liking how Stanton operates.

“What name shall you be?” He sounds put out and annoyed.

“I want named after my grammy,” I emotionally say
, and Stanton looks shocked and pleased. “Faith no more. I’m Cynthia Brooks and everyone can call me Syn.”

~Chapter Thirty-Four~

I did my daddy proud.

Standing upon a hillock in West Virginia is the cemetery where my kin are laid to rest. It’s exactly what daddy would want- he would want to come home.

It’s one of those bizarre days in Early March, where the hope of Spring is evident, but you know tomorrow will bring more Winter. It’s sixty-five degrees with a slight breeze whispering words of comfort. The sky is endless blue with fluffy white clouds paying their respects. The Sun is a huge orb in the sky, casting rays of hope on our weary crowd- hope of change- hope of a brighter future.

Most daddies’
girls think their fathers hang the moon, right now I believe that Thomas Simpson is glowing from the Sun. I feel he is at rest. I believe he is in Heaven with Grammy, and they are looking after me with smiles radiating from their loving faces. It is childish, a fairytale, and it screams of a faith I thought I was incapable of feeling. But today I am Faith Gwendolyn Simpson
and
Cynthia Brooks. I hold my family in my soul, and nothing can extract them or take the memories away.

A minister officiates the ceremony. Daddy
may have made his girls go to a Catholic school, but he was a Protestant, through and through. I believe in God, but praying to a Saint and chanting Hail Mary hasn’t ever helped me none.

There was no wake or viewing. I don’t believe we should see Daddy’s dead body. It feels vulgar and disrespectful. We need to remember the living, breathing Thomas Simpson. People always stare at and touch the dead- the dead that have no way of saying no. If I were a spirit looking down at my lifeless form as people cried, touched, and stared, I’d feel violated.

There were no speeches or songs. I feel that no matter how well-meaning, the song becomes about the singer and the speech about the speaker. I allowed prayer from the Minister and silence from the mourners. This moment is all about Daddy.

My enemies and allies, who are a mixture of friends and family, stand in a circle around the plot. The minister has since walked down the hill to give us our privacy. This was a closed ceremony, only those
I personally invited attended.

I stand at the foot of my daddy’s grave, dry-eyed and calm- at peace. I look around the circle, nodding at each mourner out of respect
. Starting from my right and working around the circle, I hold the eyes of the members of the game, and what I receive in return surprises me: respect.