Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (46 page)

Committing a crime sounds difficult, right? I witness at least fifty of them per day just gazing out the window while I do the dishes. It’s starting to look exciting. Around midnight, Stan and I started a ritual. We go on the
roof with a drink- Stan a beer, me a Coke- and we play spot the crime with the telescope. The smart criminals get a visit from Stan and the dumb ones get an eye roll. When our drinks are gone and Stan is relaxed, we just spy on Roman for shits-and-giggles. That kid never leaves the ally entrance. I want to run down there and give him a foot rub because my feet ache out of sympathy.

Stan won’t let me talk to Roman. Roman is now rule number five: No Roman until he is Grant’s enforcer. I don’t want the
guy or anything. I’m just so fucking bored and lonely. This leads to rule number six: no leaving the building unescorted. I tried to skip across the street and ‘accidentally’ meet Roman… and Stanton called me a ninja, that dude materialized out of nowhere, and I didn’t get halfway across the street before I was flung over his shoulder and shoved back into the building. Stanton chewed my ass out in front of every person within a five floor radius- the restaurant and bar, too. My punishment was cleaning every toilet in the building- all seventeen of them, with Stan looming over me, bitching that I was causing him to lose valuable time that he needed for work. I spent the midnight hour scrubbing the bar’s restrooms. I will never, ever, try to chat with Roman again. Lesson learned!

I want to be angry at Stanton, but just twelve hours without the man
, and I insanely miss him. Seven of those twelve I was asleep. The rest I have scrubbed the apartment, and even freshened up Bianca’s room. Stan left yesterday to visit his family. I wanted to go to, but he said I couldn’t. I’d feared that Stanton was embarrassed by me and didn’t want his nice family influenced by the tattooed and pierced teenage freak. My expression must have given me away, because he told me that he thought Bianca and my introduction should be a private moment, not witnessed by seven people.

Me, Syn, I primped. I primped like I used to when I was a pink-skinned, blue-eyed blonde. I’m nervous as all hell. I want Bianca to like me and no
t be frightened by me. I want the sister I never had in Fate. I want to be the big sister I never got. I’m wearing light colored clothing- gray- that covers most of my tattoos. I painted my nails and even styled my hair. As I sit here staring at the clock, waiting for the elevator to make a rumbling sound, I pick at my freshly painted nails- defeating the whole purpose of the manicure.

The elevator lift makes that metal on metal sound that at first was annoying, but now is so familiar
and promises to end the loneliness. I stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down. I do this while rubbing my sweaty palms on my pant legs. Knowing that Boyd and Whitt were my long-lost brothers wasn’t a big deal. I’d known Boyd since I started at Hillbrook and Whitt since he was a toddler. This is different. Bianca and I both know we are sisters, even though we’ve never met before, we’re going to live as a family.

My breath catches in my throat when the elevator doors open and a skittish girl steps out. Our eyes lock. I see nothing of Bianca but huge brown eyes the color of chocolate. Her eyes are like mine, they take up her entire face. It’s the first thing you see when you look at us- all of us except for Fate. It’s a Gwen thing.

“Hi,” I calmly say, but my heart is trying to fly out of my chest. I’m barely breathing.

“Hi,” she chirps back, a very girly voice- the voice I used to have before all this shit happened. I make a vow as I look at my sister for the very first time- she will remain innocent and she won’t ever lose her daddy to anything other than natural causes. I don’t want her to be like me- broken.

Stanton walks out of the elevator so the doors can close. He pats the girl on the head and walks into the kitchen, carrying a few grocery bags. He ignores us, but I can feel his interest.

Bianca slowly walks a few feet at a time. “You’re my sister,” she says. A few feet closer. “I have another sister and two brothers
, too.”

“A coincidence, I’m sure. But so do I,” I snarkily say. Stan’
s snort is loud, and Bianca looks at me with a confused little face. My God, she looks just like I did back then. “What are their names? Maybe I know ‘em.”

Bianca thinks it over- already having trust issues, which makes me hate that cunt of a mother of ours even more. My momma wa
s a bad mother. My birth mom definitely is a horrid mother… but I had Aunt Amelia. I hope Bianca’s grammy is a good woman. A girl needs a role model.

Bianca delicately steps a few feet closer. The way she carries her tiny body, I can see that she is a dancer. Every step is placed wit
h deliberate thought. The seven-year-old can’t weight more than forty pounds. She’s the height of a five-year-old, at best. But her body is shaped really cute, like a little woman. I know that when she is a grown woman, we will be identical. Fate and I share a lot of similarities to our mother. I am the clone of Gwen, and Bianca will be the brown-eyed, brown-haired version of me and Gwen.

“My oldest sister’s name is Fate. Do you know her?” Bianca excitedly asks. “Do you know what she looks like?” A few feet closer, but still too far away to touch.

“Ah, I have a sister named Fate, too. Must be a coincidence,” I say, amused. “If you can imagine what I’d look like with blue-eyes and blonde hair, then you’d have Fate.” She looks me over, squinting her big eyes. “I have a big brother named Boyd. Do you? He’s not very tall. Boyd has brown curly hair and huge blue eyes. He looks just like me, too.”

“Really?” Bianca excitedly exclaims as she walks closer. I feel like I’m offering food in the palm of my hand to a wild animal. “I have a brother named Boyd.”

“I bet you have another brother named Daniel, too. I bet he is nine and looks just like us,” I lure her closer. “Princess, we’re sisters, so my siblings are your siblings,” I sadly say.

“Oh,” she says, bashfully staring at her tiny patent leather shoes. “I’ve never m
et them. Daddy said we share a mommy. I’ve never met her, either. Have you?”

“Um…
a few times,” I hesitate, and she hears it. I don’t want to bad mouth our mother. It could give her a complex just like mine. “She’s really pretty,” is the nicest thing I can think to say. “Bianca, can I have a hug? I know I’m scary looking, but I will never hurt you- ever,” I vehemently promise.

Bianca prances closer, carefully placing her feet. “Ballet?” I ask when she stands in front of me. Bianca smiles brightly, showing off a few missing front teeth. I can’t help but smile back at her. Stanton is giving me a gift. I didn’t grow up with Fate. I missed out on the bonding. I may know Boyd and Daniel, but we weren’t raised as siblings. I
will
know Bianca, inside and out. I smile up at Stanton as he gazes at us with glistening eyes.

“Yeah,” Bianca shyly admits. “And lyrical and jazz.”

“I bet you’re really good,” I praise.

“Do you dance?” Bianca’s tiny fingertip traces the dime-sized tattoo of a dollar sign on the back of my hand. I wish I could hide my shame from her. I don’t want her to see my marked skin. I modified my body so that I wouldn’t look like Gwen, not realizing Gwen was inside me, not outside of me. I regret it
, and now it’s too late. Now when I look at my body, it is a reminder of who and what I am and why I did it. I want my sister to be proud to call me sister, not be embarrassed by me.

“No,” I softly whisper. “We didn’t have enough money growing up for me to take any lessons in anything, but Fate- she took lessons from the time she could walk. She’s a beautiful dancer. Momma and Daddy would have her perform at parties. Someday, maybe you guys could dance together.” I may feverishly hate Fate, but I won’t deny Bianca her sister. Maybe Bianca is someone Fate could love.

“What do you do?” Her question throws me. I don’t do anything. I don’t go to school. I don’t have a talent or hobby. I’ve never played a sport or used art or excelled at anything. I run a cash register and sweep the floor of a tattoo parlor as I hide from my enemies.

“Princess, just use me as an example of what not to do,” I say in mortification. “
I’m just a bad girl.” I stare down at the tattoo on my hand in shame.

The dollar sign holds so much significance. It was greed that killed Daddy. I
t was greed that caused Lara to kill Daddy. It was greed that put our family and all of our descendants in this heinous game. It was greed that made Fate the entitled bitch that she is. It was a different type of greed that ruined my mother. I hate her and I understand her… and that makes me hate myself. Because Gwen and I… cut us and we bleed the same- inside and out.

A splat hits the tattoo and I flinch in surprise. Bianca wiggles into my arms and gives me a sweet hug, not liking that I’m sad.
I squeeze Bianca in my arms. She is me- the little girl that I could have been… would have been... should have been. Stanton is doing his damnedest to keep her safe and loved. I’m going to make sure the game has no impact on her fragile life.

“There’s no such thing as a bad girl,” Bianca’s sweet voice purrs words that are way beyond her years. She extracts herself from my arms and runs off to her daddy asking for a snack- little kids and their two minute attention spans.

I hope she is too blind to see the truth… because I’m as bad as they come.

~Chapter Thirty-Six~

“I’m starting to worry about you, kid,” Rex’s deep growl of a voice eclipses the tattoo gun. “You don’t even flinch at the corner of your eyes anymore.”

“There’s worse pain than the physical,” I murmur, completely unaffected by the tattoo process. Rex told me people get a type of euphoria from the pain, and a high from getting new ink. I feel nothing, but I’ve seen the glassy-eyed customers stagger out our door. My high is from watching their pain, knowing they are getting off on it- I’m a sick bitch.

“Explain this tat
t to me,” Rex drawls. “I never understand why you get what you get. But this is by far the strangest request I’ve ever gotten,” he says in awe.

I think about lying. I can do it without a blip in my heart. I can hold Rex’s eyes and lie right to his face and he won’t be the wiser. Hell, Stan even
buys my shit now, and I can tell Bianca that the grass is really blue and she’d believe me.

I stare down at my forearm and smirk. “The night I found out my father died, I beat the shit out of the guy who took my virginity. I was trying to put pressure on his windpipe, so he bit me,” I honestly answer, amusement in my voice.

“Fine,” Rex sighs. The big burly man looks perturbed. “Don’t tell me.”

“Rex, I showed up at your shop a few days after I turned sixteen. Your boss is my guardian. You’re tattooing around teeth marks in my forearm. Doesn’t that story actually sound plausible? If I’d have lied, I would have prettied it up and said a werewolf bit me or some shit.”

His soft huff is filled with amusement- Rex still doesn’t believe me. In all fairness, I lie constantly. It’s so much easier than telling the painful truth. I talk less and less; it’s easier than the lying- less guilt.

My mind wanders as Rex outlines my scar. I guess this is what I look for in the tattoo process- clarity of mind. Six weeks: life at Stanton’s has turned into a routine. I take care of my sister when she is home and Stanton is working- he’s always working. She cleans, I cook. I help her with homework, wash her hair, play games, and help her practice. I could say I take her to school and dance practice, but Julio is the one that takes us both. Julio also takes me to work and picks me up afterwards. I have no freedom, but I have constant structure. I can’
t even workout without a bodyguard- and that is exactly what Julio is- my bodyguard. He’s great at spotting me with free weights, though.

Six weeks: they said they’d call or visit- fucking liars. I knew it would be difficult for Ezra to see me. I had no expectations. Grant, he said he would call me every day. He said he’d visit. He said he’d be there for me. Grant talks to Stanton. I found out a few nights ago he played cards with Frankie, Julio, and Stanton
while I was pretending to watch Bianca dance on the rooftop, but I was actually spying with the telescope. No more rooftop
spot the criminal
with Stanton. I’m lonely and my friend was playing with my guardian. Grant was in the same building at the same time as me and never came to see me. I could lie, but I cried when I found out. I love my sister. I have an easy relationship with Julio, and Rex is filled with stories. But they aren’t my age. I feel like a mom whose husband is off living a life without her. The sadness I felt over Grant made me realize I am too dependent on him and Stanton. Stanton is putting a roof over my head and food in my belly. He’s keeping me safe. My payment is also a reward: I take care of Bianca so he doesn’t have to. So he can be the daddy and have time to play with her instead of worrying about the little things. I don’t think I’m repaying him enough.

“All done, even if you won’t tell me the truth,” Rex gravelly says, ointmenting me up.
I roll my eyes- the bastard!