The Goodbye Girl (Red Market Series Book 2) (16 page)

The queen was in her parlour eating bread and honey.

I know that
look in his eyes, the last time it was there my son put me in the hospital. I need to tread carefully with him. He isn’t as in control as he should be, he is unravelling and I need him in a better place than this if he is going to come home and run things. I have taken great care to make sure he won’t need to interact with people more than is absolutely needed, but he will have to. I just hope that Hugo has disposed of my son’s indiscretions and got rid of that revolting creature I saw in the bed. I imagined the woman that caused this upheaval to be beautiful. I saw this stunning lady in my head not a gutter whore with more scars than a leper. She is a hideous infection that has made my family sick and I am not even a little concerned about cutting her from our lives.

Our family business may be lined with the scum of the earth but I will be damned if I let that rot seep any further into my family than it already has. It is time for these two men to get their lives in order, the excuse of illness will no longer fly with me. Our minds can be managed, taught and most certainly fixed.

“Where is Caesar?” I ask Hugo as he returns to the office. He looks pained and almost past the tired mark; he is dead on his feet.

“Upstairs, fixing himself.” He doesn’t need to explain, I know some poor woman will be dead later or wish she was anyway. “You know that it is you, don’t you? He manages fine if he doesn’t hear you.”

“How dare you blame me for his disease! Do you need a lesson from me too? I will not have this from you. Caesar is weak. Weak!” No one has dared to tell me it's my fault. I know I make him worse, I have always made him worse. As a small boy he couldn’t bear to hear my voice; it would make him scream blue fucking murder so I spoke more, sang to him, and tried to comfort my baby. I couldn’t hold my sweet boy and tell him I loved him because my voice was killing him. I refuse to stop, I will not be silent.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than sit here and blame me for his madness? Where is Mateo? Is he alright? I need to talk with him and get this place back in order.” Hugo shakes his head before he sits forward and answers me.

“Mateo has landed us in some serious trouble with the police, Caesar has locked him up again and I think it is best he stays where he is until I can get this mess fixed up.” I feel my scowl wrinkling my forehead more than it already was. What has that boy done?

“How much trouble, Hugo? The new backup facility isn’t ready yet.” I sigh. “We are not able to up and run right now.”

“One of the girls he accepted was a politician's daughter only 12, she’s listed missing and there is a manhunt for her. She is gone, but Mateo has part of her somewhere. He is careless, he was in a bad way when Caesar left and the girl was missing.” The girl. Once again she as at the center of the mess; she must have broken his fragile fucking heart.

“Well she is gone now, so fix this fuck up. Pay whoever we need to. Just make it go away.” Hugo looks so much like his father, a reminder of my failures shoved in my face, but at least the man is normal. Well, as normal as you can be in this business. The Red Market isn’t for those with soft hearts or good souls.

“What is your plan? Even with her gone, Caesar won’t go home. He will only go home when you die. You and I both know he will not willingly be near you.” I know he is telling the truth, my son hates me.

“Caesar will do what I expect of him Hugo, don’t question me just do what needs doing.” I dismiss him and call for my driver to collect me and take me somewhere that doesn’t look quite so Third World. I am tired, jet lagged and hungry. I will return to this mess in the morning.

Before I leave, I go upstairs to see what destruction my son has caused, and I can hear his rage before I see it. One look through the gap in the door is enough for me to know his sickness is still there. He was never better, just better at hiding it.

Tell tale, tit!

Your tongue shall be slit,

And all the dogs in town 

Shall have a little bit.

As promised, upstairs
was a girl waiting for me. She was clean and standing next to a hospital bed that was lowered right down. Her dark hair pulled back in a neat braid and her eyes were on the floor, not once did she look up to me. My mother’s voice was still waging vicious war in my mind, the noise that will never be silenced. Her voice will not shut up, but right now the silence of my daughter’s death is the most offensive sound on earth. The deafening sound inside my mind drives my body and my rage. The unwanted sexual desire courses through me with every single thrumming beat of my heart. I need to release it, lift the pressure cooker lid and let the steam out. That waiting sacrifice is going to help me do just that. 

Lighting a smoke and opening and closing my fists, my burnt hand hurts with every single clench. I am going to kill her, she is so small so delicate so clean - so unlike Svetlana. My heart sinks deeper into the cavity of my chest as I think of her marked body, each scar a story of her strength. 

“Come here.” I speak loudly, making the girl jump a little and her eyes dart up to finally meet mine. Dark, just like my daughter’s, only hers are full of life. Svetlana’s eyes have been dead since she was a young girl hiding in the cabinet under my sink. She has in a way always been dead so why do I mourn her now? “Don’t make me ask you again.” The din of my mother’s voice is still bouncing around my brain, distracting me from the bitter reality that my child is dead. Most likely disposed of in the fires that licked and melted my skin when all I wanted was to leave this hell on Earth.

As I touch her, use her and feel her body hugging against mine, the silence slowly returns, but the rage is there. The anger always lasts longer. My dick can be pleased, and once I come it’s over for a while. The burning violent anger goes on until I set it free, then the mute button is finally pressed and my mind can be my own again. Exorcising my mother from the confines of my soul will set me free. Her soft sniffle as my palm connects with her cheek is enough to send me spiraling completely out of control. She has stayed silent all this time but that little sniff, a small cry, is unbearable to me and before I can think, I attack. My knuckles crunch as they connect with her small bones, shattering them. The blood seeps from her nose and ears after I smashed her head against the metal end of the bed. Her small frame buckles under the force of mine, this isn't sexual. No, we passed that quickly, this is war against my demons. 

When I finally win and the sounds that tortured me have left, I sink into the bed that is stained with her blood. Staring at the industrial roof above my head, I wish for another life where I am not afflicted with a disease that turns me into a monster. Her dead body on the floor beside me is a reminder of why I left my child. A not so subtle nudge in the ribs to tell me exactly who I am. I am The Goodbye Man and I should just stick with saying goodbye. I close my eyes and drift away, I let sleep come to be my new tormentor. I sink deep into dreams of my sweet baby as she writhed below me with pleasure and words of love poured from her and into me. She filled me, she filled me with love and I loved her. My actions were wrong, but can any action born in love truly be wrong? Time is a vortex when I am recovering from a severe episode. I lose track completely and it’s my hunger that wakes me from the replay reel in my mind.

The dead girl is gone and the floor scrubbed clean around me. The only trace of my healing is the dried blood on the bed where I sleep and on me. Crusty blood sticks my fingers together and scabs off as I move to pull myself seated. As I wipe the sleep from my eyes with bloodstained hands and adjust to the darkness that now fills the space, a deep sadness has settled inside me. There is a dull ache that is her absence and I let my head fall to my chest. I am defeated. I am lost and I am tired of the darkness within me. The rush of loss is compounded when I see Hugo sitting on a bed a few spaces away. His eyes are on me, waiting to see if I am cured for a while. I am reminded that it was him who was responsible for my child leaving this Earth. I only hope he said goodbye, that he did it right and she left swiftly and without pain. I want to kill him but my anger is gone and the dead silence keeps my heart beat even and my head still.

“I want to kill you, Hugo. You should leave,” I tell him, my throat dry, making my voice crackle through the stillness of the room. “I hope for your sake you did it right. That you said goodbye and that she didn’t feel it, because you will feel everything she felt.” I sit forward so I can slide off the edge of the bed and stand to confront him. Feeling for my gun, it's missing. I let out a growl because I am no longer a physical match for Hugo, maybe for my nephew but not him. 

“You won’t kill me, Caesar. We both know that you couldn’t even if you tried right now. Also I am the only buffer between you and your crazy mother right now. You
need
me.” He walks towards me, and his hulking body seems sluggish with fatigue. “Don’t judge me and my actions, Caesar, unless you know exactly what they are and why I have chosen them.” 

He is standing a foot away from me now and I have to look up to see the melancholy of his soul bared to me in those eyes. 

“You and Mateo and even your mother, have walked all over me my whole fucking life. I am done hiding the truths, keeping the secrets and playing the damn games. We are blood, Caesar, your mother may have hidden it our whole lives but you and me, we aren’t so different. We are brothers. Your father is my father; through his indiscretions I was born. So don’t dare judge me, you are not my executioner.” His tone gets softer, just a hair above trigger volume for me. As I look at him I am faced with the truth, I know he isn’t lying and I know my mother made him stay silent. “Your child is safe, she is alive and safe and away from here until the fucking witch dies or goes home. Personally, I am hoping she dies here.” The anger leaves and relief fills me down to my bones at his words, my child lives.
My love is alive
. 

“I sent her to the transplant clinic by ambulance and she will be cared for there until we are ready for her to come home. You, my brother, need to decide where home will be and what to do with your madre and Mateo. They will kill her. It’s her or them. You can no longer hide.” His hand rests on my shoulder and he looks into my eyes, searching for the soul I am sure I don’t have. “I am not going to be silent Caesar, I won’t stay quiet to keep them safe, I will whisper their deaths into your soul.” Dropping his arm, he turns around and leaves me, relieved, confused, torn and most of all in love.
I fell in love with my child, but her voice turns my love to lust. It is in my lust however that she finds my love. I am a deplorable human, a revolting father and an incestuous savage. I have many goodbyes to say.

Clarity. It is
amazing the clarity that finds you when you stop fighting things within yourself and accept them. The reality is I love my child and I will love her any way she needs me to. I will do anything to erase the past I helped create. If that means she needs me to touch her then I will. 

“Your madre wants us at her hotel for lunch, I suggest you have a shower and I will bring some clothes up for you to change.” Hugo is calm and unmoved by his recent confession; as I look in his eyes I wonder how I never saw it before? 

“Fine.” I turn to go and wash my latest sin away. There is silence in my head so the water isn’t therapy for my mind, but my stiff sore body is crying for it. I need to massage my scars and cover them with fresh silicone ointment. They are uncomfortable, unsightly and hinder my movement in my affected leg. When I look at them I wish that death had claimed me rather than spat me back out for more punishment. Keeping the water temperature lukewarm, because any extreme hot or cold is unbearable on my scars, I stand in the open prison style showers that were for factory workers in years gone by. I wash the scaly dried blood off my hands and face. My melted leg and torso taunt me with visions of fire and licking flames. The constant care that my burns need has been neglected since my arrival in Mexico and know I need to take better care, there are still risks. 

“Your stuff is out here when you done.” Hugo’s coarse loud voice tears through the quiet that the water created around me. He is always loud so his voice rarely causes my mind to collapse. I shut off the water and step out. I stand there a while letting myself dry off as much as I can in the air. I will have to wipe my scars dry to apply the cream they desperately need, just the thought has my skin crawling. As a boy my mother would dry me after bath time, the big white fluffy towel wrapped around me like a vice as she sang. She would sing and I would go mad as she dried me before beating the madness into submission and tucking me into bed. It isn’t just the germs in towels that I hate, the feeling on my skin sends me reeling right back to my boyhood and the beginning of my mental instability. Dabbing my discolored skin dry with paper towels is as much as I can deal with. The clear jelly like cream is sticky and it lubricates the damaged skin, easing the tightness and making movement easier. My usual jeans have are replaced with softer linen pants that I am sure my mother approves of far more. My stomach growls and I can feel my weak body failing me. The warm cup of black coffee on the metal bedside table smells like heaven on Earth. I button up the pretentious shirt my mother no doubt chose and grab the warm resuscitation that my body so desperately needs right now, gulping the entire cup down in two long sips. Bending my leg to put on socks and shoes is the most difficult task since my burns, it takes enormous effort and causes me great pain. After the third attempt I get them on. I look like a businessman. I look nothing like the tarnished soul that lives within me, I am the polished silver trophy my mother dreamed of. Now I am summoned to her side. I go downstairs to find Hugo and my errant nephew if he has survived the beating I gave him.

“Where is that cunt?” I bite my lip waiting on an answer from Hugo, who has appeared behind me like a silent shadow.

“The Old Lady took him to the hotel; thought it would keep him away from trouble. Speaking of which, the landlord is here to see you before we go.” I snarl at the mere thought of dealing with another human at this point in time, but trudge towards the office where he waits for me.

The dirty runt of a man, littered with filthy street tattoos and the ingrained dirt that comes from being the bottom feeder for years, is sitting on the chair with a shit eating grin on his face. The smug fucker doesn't know me, I am not my pushover nephew and he’d best learn that quickly if he wants to continue working with us. 

“What do you want? I am busy.” I kick the leg of the chair he is rocking on so he falls hard to the floor as I take a seat behind my desk. Shaking off the knock to the head and looking Hugo up and down, he starts to stutter out words in street Spanish, half mixed with English that I can barely decipher it at all. 

“Despacio chingada madre, una palabra a la vez,; loud or you might die before you get it all out.” My fist slams the metal desk that looks like a seventies relic. He sputters out his little song and dance, it is simple really. The police came to see him, they were looking for the missing girl
they
sold to my idiot nephew. They happened to find her frozen heart in Mateo’s freezer. The careless cunt, I should just kill him. My enterprising landlord told some half-truths but wants money to stay so unhelpful. He thinks he can blackmail me. I contemplate the small minded criminal in front of me, before I answer him.

“Tu quédate callado, come back after lunch I will go get your money. When you come back bring any of your little rats that know anything too. I want to talk with them before I pay you. You are only as good as the stupidest member of your team.” I wink so he gets what I mean and then wave my hand dismissing him from my space. Hugo escorts him out of the door and then the building. I follow a long way behind him. The dread of seeing my mother is already building into a crescendo in my mind. Why would that stupid shit keep her heart? This mess is becoming a bigger problem than I care to deal with, we are going to have to pay to make this go away. The landlord however will not be the one with the greased palm. No, I have another plan for him and his goons. I need organs and they are wasting theirs, the oxygen thieving, drug pushing scum. 

Hugo is sitting in the front of the blacked out SUV waiting for me, more obvious than the vans we left in Hunts Point, but the bullet proof vans are a necessity here. This isn’t anything like the place we called home before, this city looks and feels like a war zone. There is tension in the air that makes it thick and hard to breathe, every set of eyes on you is a threat and no one is your friend. The raucous noise in my mind builds with every turn we take closer to my mother's hotel. Our impending meeting with her and my disloyal little shit nephew that I am going to kill if I get my hands on, has me stressed already. Mateo has let me down, I should be burning with anger and rage but instead I sting with bitter disappointment at his betrayal and foolishness. I taught him better than this, but he has tasted power and now he doesn’t have the willpower to wash his mouth out.