The Goodbye Girl (Red Market Series Book 2) (11 page)

MY dear, do you know,

How a long time ago,

Two poor little children,

Whose names I don't know,

Were stolen away on a fine summer's day,

And left in a wood, as I've heard people say.

And when it was night,

So sad was their plight,

The sun it went down,

And the moon gave no light.

They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried,

And the poor little things, they lay down and died.

And when they were dead,

The Robins so red

Brought strawberry-leaves

And over them spread;

And all the day long

They sung them this song:

"Poor babes in the wood! Poor babes in the wood!

And don't you remember the babes in the wood?"

I had nowhere
to keep her so I emptied out a glass jar of peanut butter, the sticky sweet smell filling up the whole space. I scrubbed it until the label and all it’s glue had was removed and I could see through the clear glass. Drying it in the oven so I know it's as sterile as I can manage here. The blood that was sticky before has dried and formed a crusty shell around her. I slip my sweet little love into the jar and seal it. Holding it up to the light, I see the sacrifice she made for loving me. Not sure what I should do with her, I place her in the freezer compartment of the old fridge that stands in the corner of the kitchen. It already smells of death in there. I don’t think anyone has cleaned it once since the sixties when it was obviously made. The level of filth here plays games with my need for order, I think that's why I stayed away. It also houses the memories of Lettie loving me; I believed her. I was such a fool to think any living person could love what I am. She was just trying to hurt me, punish me for Caesar leaving or worse, trying to fill the gap he had left. She loves him and no matter how wrong it is a love like that is beautiful, you can feel it flowing from them. Even covered in shit and blood he loved her, I could never have seen through the dirt and chaos. I know that she is going to be my demise if I am not hers first. 

There is a liquor store not far from the hovel and I go to find something that will numb the pain of losing my little doll. Another person left me behind; maybe it is me that needs to die so that I can love them all again. I buy three bottles of brandy, I can’t handle the local tequila it is like battery acid and I don’t see the appeal at all. I pay premium for my drink of choice and carry the heavy bottles back to the hole I am hiding in. I am hiding, from what I do not even know, but this is hiding. I have crawled under my protective rock and I don’t want to come out. The door slams shut behind me and I collapse on the small dirty sofa - where she loved me. I immediately move as the reminder makes my stomach roll. Drinking from the bottle, I empty the first one quickly. The booze dulls my senses and the static in my mind, calming the bitter anger just enough to allow me to think about things with a new purpose.

Revenge. I don’t care about digging two graves, I am happy to die but I want her to suffer as much as I have. I want Lettie to die with me, she is killing me already.

Half way into the second bottle of free thinking, my phone rings. The screen reads an international number I don’t know but the small print below it says Spain. I pick up and slur out a hello.

“Hola, this is Mateo.” The words all bleed into each other and I stagger to the chair in the small kitchen so I am sitting up and don’t fall asleep while I talk.

“Mateo my sweet boy, how are you?” Oh god, the devil has my phone number.

“Abuela, what do you want?” I chug more of the golden courage down because I will need it talking to her.

“Where is Caesar, he isn’t answering his phone?” She is irritated. I can hear it in her voice the way her words get cut short. 

“Killing people, where else would he be?” I am too drunk for this conversation. I in fact have probably hallucinated the call in my stupor. I am still hurting over my sweet little dolly.

“Has he killed her yet?” She hisses the word
her
with a venom of hate like I haven’t heard in a while. She hates me that much, she says my name that way. I was the thing that caused the death of both her daughters and she blames me every single day. She would love for me to die, but she has enough fun punishing me for my sins.

“Killed who? He killed my sweet beautiful lover, ripped her heart out and left it for me. He is a monster, Abuela. You make such beautiful monsters.” The booze talks for me as I mumble and stumble over the words and thoughts.

“Mateo, that whore’s child needs to go. I won’t have that bastard of his inheriting this family’s hard work. You are at least from decent blood boy or I would send you the same way.” Oh, she means Lettie Doll, his child. Fuck, she would be the one to get it all. I feel a little pang of jealousy over that idea, I have worked hard to stay in the old crow’s good graces. This place is mine, I am doing so well. I can succeed.

“He fucked her, right in front of me. He
loves
her. She isn’t dead yet, almost, but not quite. When she is then I can love her too.” I let out a cackle that sounds as if I have escaped a mental facility. She will just love it that her son is fucking his daughter. She wants him to be normal more than anything and he never will be. Even better, it's all her fault he is a walking time bomb.

“Mateo, she would be perfect for you boy.
Kill her.”
The old lady hums a silly tune, waiting for me to answer her. I can’t because my head is exploding with alcohol and images of Lettie’s sweet dead body below me. “Mateo, sober up and call me back, you insane fool. Or I may just dispatch your left kidney somewhere.” I have angered the devil.

“I can help you. Give me a little time, Abuela.” She doesn’t say goodbye, she never does. I don’t think she likes the word. Unlike Caesar who has made it his mantra in life. The dial tone in my ear hurts so I set the phone on the table. I swallow down the rest of my drink before I pass out on the dirty kitchen floor and dream.

When I wake,
I am in the bed, hot, sweaty and hugging the jar containing the little heart I loved for a while. I don’t recall taking it out of the freezer or getting on the bed. I feel the cotton mouth and thumping headache of a hangover as I slowly sit up. The world spins around me, the brandy still stuck on my breath. I dreamed of Lettie and Ophelia; they were angels and I was devil chasing them to their coffins. I couldn’t catch them, they wouldn’t stop and let me have a chance to touch them, I was angry. My anger must have woken me, that or the sound of fists pounding on the door. I fight the spinning room to go and see who it is; I have no idea what day or time it is, I don’t care much either. The giant shadow cast in the dim outside light tells me that Hugo is here to make sure I am not dead. That or to actually take my kidney. He is loyal to my grandmother and only her. 

“Let me in, you idiot.” He shoves me backwards and I trip over my own feet. I let go of the jar in my hand to grab onto the door so I don’t fall and it shatters on the floor. I feel as if it is my own heart smashing into splinters, as I dive into the shards of glass to try save the innocent little piece of my love. Fuck! I want to kill him. The grave expression on his face tells me I am in a world of trouble, I pick it up and haul myself up off the floor. The anger and hurt still ripping me apart inside. Glass slices my hands and my blood coats her now dirty heart, bits of hair and dirt from the floor stick to her and I want to cry.

“What do you want Hugo?” I stare at him, trying to hold my ground as the boss and not the crazy boy he thinks I am.

“You didn’t call her back. She is angry.” Oh fuck, fuck, shit, fuck I thought I had dreamed it all. “You need to call her, and
we
need to fix this Svetlana issue. You know she will not accept it.” She isn’t an
issue
, she is love. My love, his love, the only fucking love we have had in our lives and I don’t know if I can let it all go. I also know that Abuela is the one in charge and she will never accept it, it will come down to her or us. 

“He put her to sleep. We can tell her we are waiting on a match to take her organs, you know, not wasting a good body?” My hungover brain is trying to make a plan that will work long enough for me to decide what to do with all these fucking feelings.

“Phone her and tell her that, she might accept it. She might also have
you
put to sleep.” I glare at him for a second, understanding his not so subtle threat, he is her man here and he would kill me if she told him too. “Listen, the old bat isn’t going to live long, just keep her fucking happy until she is dead. Then you two can go all out fucking crazy on your own. Until then, I have to keep things acceptable to her standards. Daughter fucking and necrophilia are not exactly things the refined woman likes. She only knows what I tell her, don’t make me regret it. Svetlana was a bad idea from day one. For both of you.” It’s the truth and I know it down to my bones; she has caused chaos and is driving us all mad.

“I will call her and try smooth it over. What's he doing?” I ask because he hasn’t even called me once.

“He is sitting beside her, she has an infection and might even die without outside help in that direction. She is hurt. Who ever had her was a sick, sick man.” He shakes his head and opens my last bottle of booze. Grabbing a dirty glass out the sink, he fills it up. “He said that she killed whoever it was, he found the man's body where they picked her up. She went feral and bit his throat out." He sits down and sighs. "Mateo, she isn’t normal. She had none of the childhood we did; ours was shitty make no mistake, but hers was hell on Earth.” I watch him swallow the whole glass in one gulp.

“I wanted to fix her, he wanted to save her and fix me, I don’t think we are worth saving anymore. She loves him you know, not the right sort of love but love. I saw it in her eyes.” I drink from the now open bottle before handing it to him to pour more.

“Just fix the mess, Mateo; people cannot be fixed.” He chugs the drink and walks out the door again. I know this was a warning for me to stay in line. My Abuela is watching me now. I am not to disappoint or I will become spare parts. I have only lived this long because my father was a wealthy businessman and not some lower class citizen. I put the heart I still cling to in the freezer again and try to pull myself back together without it. I need to go back and start to fix the mess Caesar has made; he made Lettie and she is the mess.

I need to get to her, I need to clean up this mess.