We Were One Once Book 1 (3 page)

San Francisco: Simon
Lamb

The buzz from the lit sign
right outside her window stops. I look at my watch in the weak
light; it’s 5:37 a.m.

Hmm. Grace didn’t come
back. I lift myself from her bed to sit with my shoes on the
stained tile floor. Hmm. She starts work at 9:00 a.m. I decide to
wait here for a few more hours.

It’s dangerous to do this
in the morning, but I’ve done it before. I prefer the cover of
night, but for Grace, I’ll make an exception.

And I’ll make her pay for
it. I smile, getting up to help myself to a bowl of
cereal.

Parking on a hill, I grab
my cap again from the passenger seat. I hate this part of the city
almost as much as I hate Chinatown. My body revolts against the
press of people. Their smells all mingle.

My anger from this morning
is increasing again with each step down the street. Grace never
showed.

At least in this area, I
don’t stand out. I do, but it’s because these fuckers think I’m one
of them. Or they hope I am. Two twinks smile at me as I pass under
the large rainbow flag. Their scrawny shoulders and high voices
resemble teenage boys, but they’re in their twenties. I growl at
them and probably just made their cocks stiff.

I slow down as I near the
storefront around the corner. It’s a small shop, full of shit
twinks would love—tiny t-shirts, porn, collars and leashes, a few
hardcore bondage pieces. There’s always a gagging display of
incense too.

I was surprised to see that
this is where she works, surprised for a lot of reasons. She’s shy
for one. I’ve not heard Grace speak to a stranger unless it’s in
this shop, and then it’s only to ask and answer as part of her job.
She barely makes eye contact. Maybe she’s a wanna-be mufflicker?
No, I don’t think so. She doesn’t act any differently around other
chicks. Everybody’s off limits with Grace.

I liked that from the
beginning. I don’t think she’s a virgin. That’d be too much to
hope. I’m not dumb enough to believe that shit in this day. She’s
young, maybe 20, but I don’t buy that she’s that innocent. She’s
never been anything but shy and quiet in the four weeks I’ve
watched her though. No men. No women. No one.

So, the fact that she works
around the sex shit was surprising enough, but then there’s the
astrology crap too. She helps out with the front sometimes, but
mostly she runs a table in the back doing astrological charting.
She’ll tell your past, present, or future using a computer. She’s
popular and apparently accurate according to the idiots that eat
that shit up.

As I open the door, I can
hear a guy complaining that he can’t get his reading for this
weekend. I have to take a deep breath against the assault of
incense burning.

“Well,
where
is she? Will she be in by
lunch?” The guy looks conventional enough; he’s clean cut, wearing
a suit and tie. I’ve seen him in here on weekends with bareass
leather chaps and a collar. Grace puts paper towels down for him,
but she never makes a face or even acts like it’s different. She
treats everyone the same—cold and distant.

No one gets past the blank
looks and unemotional eyes of my girl.

I liked that from the
beginning too. It’s what drew me to her. I want to see those dark
eyes open wide with emotion, specifically from pain and
fear.

“Sorry, Ed. She’s never
late. I don’t even have a phone number for Grace to contact her. Do
you want me to call you as soon as she comes in? I’m sure she can
have a reading ready for you pretty quickly…” The owner’s a
white-haired hippy type. He would’ve been a twink back in his day,
but now he settles for being one of the proud survivors of the
‘80’s. He and his partner act fatherly with Grace, but she never
acts like she notices. They get the same cold treatment as
everybody else.

Shit. She’s not here
either.

I don’t make eye contact,
just turn back around and walk out the door.

My anger is percolating
again. I’m going to have to decide. Stay around here in this
cesspool of too many people, all a little too interested in a guy
like me, or go back to her place.

I decide her place is the
safest bet.

Fog is just starting to
recede over the hill behind the flag as I head back up to my
car.

Grace never shows. I lost
her.

San Francisco: Simon
Lamb

“Mr. Lamb?” I turn around
and see a beautiful pair of tits, topped off with a set of puffed
up lips and cheekbones and dyed bleached blonde hair. There’s a
lingering of strong perfume in the air. She tries to smile at me,
showing off her perfect teeth. The one I broke has been fixed to
match the others nicely.

“Luanne. You look
different.” She’s uncomfortable. Her face has a slight sheen over
all the makeup. I can smell her subtle change too. Fear gives an
acidic wash over her clinging floral perfume. The panels of her
long black dress shake against the floor, and she holds a glass of
champagne with too tight a grip.

She lowers her head. “My
Master is waiting.” Luanne turns, and I watch her walk a little. I
wait for her to turn around.

The lobby isn’t crowded.
Most of the people are in the main ballroom by now, but Luanne
still attracts stares from hungry men. Troy, her Master, likes to
keep his toys in shape. He also prefers a Barbie-type and makes
over any girl that doesn’t fit this image right away. Luanne was
already close, but I can see the implants and fillers she’s gotten
since I finished her training. She’s nearing the end of her time as
one of Troy’s favorites. He keeps his girls though, never brokers
them again anyway.

I beckon her with my index
finger to come back to where I stand. Her face changes. The small
amount of fear from a moment ago is replaced by a full dose. It’s
been two years, but she hasn’t forgotten what I did to her, what
I’m capable of doing to her still. She wears a mask of seduction,
though, as she returns to face me.

“Tell Troy to come
himself.
By
himself.” As she moves to turn again, I grab her wrist with
hardly any pressure. It’s like a hot poker to her skin. She jerks
and freezes. Her mask is back in place before she looks up at me
though. I do good work. “Forget something?”

One tear moves from the
inside of her left eye down her cheek. She shakes her head slightly
before lowering it, deeper this time, and her voice shakes. “May I
go, Sir?”

“Yes, Luanne.” But I don’t
let her hand go. I bring it up to my lips and give it a soft kiss,
barely touching her. She’s not mine anymore, but I like the
saltiness of her skin. I lick my lips as she quickly walks away,
wiping her face and smoothing her dress. Her head stays down until
she reaches the doors to the ballroom.

I head into the noise of
the ballroom too while waiting for Troy. The room is busy. There’s
round tables for dining, a large dance floor in the front with a
band, side tables for wine tastings, and bars everywhere. It’s not
my sort of thing. I prefer a quiet spot for my deals.

I stay on the edge away
from people as much as possible, grabbing a glass of champagne from
a passing waiter. I feel a hand on my shoulder, slapping hard. I
turn slowly to my left to look down on Troy. Luanne is standing
several feet away with one of his men; her chin is lowered almost
to her chest.

“Simon! It’s always good to
see you, my friend. It’s like Christmas when you’re around!” Troy
is loud. Stupid. I move my champagne glass from my left hand to my
right. I grab his neck and squeeze with my free hand.

“Ya wanna be discreet,
Troy?” I apply just a bit more pressure. “My business requires
discretion, as you know…so if you can’t be…tell me,
friend
, and we’ll end our
dealings now.” I want to spit his powder smell out of my
mouth.

I know I can crush his
windpipe, even with my weaker hand. He has one moment to answer
correctly before he’s unable to do so. I’ll leave his ass choking
and coughing right here. And I’ll up my fee.

“Yes…discre…” I let go of
his throat and push him against the empty bar we’re near. He chokes
and holds his throat but manages to look like he’s adjusting his
tie instead. I grin.

“Do you want your
product?”

He looks around nervously.
“You brought her here?”

I nod. “In the car around
the corner.” I smile a little more, showing a little teeth this
time. “The valet is keeping an eye on her.”

Troy laughs. “Perfect.” He
turns to the man standing by Luanne and snaps his fingers. He
whispers in his ear but turns to me with a question. “Still driving
the same?” I grin in answer. “Go fetch and wait in my car with my
new toy,” he finishes commanding his bodyguard.

When the man leaves, Troy
reaches in his pocket for his phone. He busily pushes in a few
codes, swipes a few screens, then puts his phone away with a smug
smile. My own phone vibrates silently in my pocket. With the
transaction complete, I nod and turn to leave.

“You’re not staying for the
wine auction, Simon? My family has a special vintage I think you’d
appreciate…”

I turn back and grin again,
showing a little of the hardness I’m known for. Troy’s face drops,
and a wary pinch takes over his features. “Sure, I always like to
support a good charity.” I head to the nearest bar. Troy leads
Luanne back to his table without another glance at me.

The point to socializing
like this is lost on me. Dressing up, throwing money around to act
like a big shot—I don’t get it. I have money. I was born with it.
Generations of my family haven’t had to work for anything. I can
have whatever I want, whatever money will buy. And believe me,
that’s everything.

It’s why I do the work I
do; I like to challenge myself. I smile into my glass of wine.
That’s a lie. I do it because I fucking enjoy it.

Looking around here at all
these women dressed up, led around by pencil pricked assholes, I
know they think they own the world if they’re beautiful, young, and
even a little intelligent. They think they’re secure, tottering
around on heels and gliding overly inflated lips across teeth
overly whitened.

My first challenge was one
of these women. She was a daughter to my grandfather’s friend and
six years older than me, give or take. I was a horny sixteen year
old she thought to teach. I taught her to cry for me. I left my
scars on her, inside and out. I owned her for the rest of her
miserable little life. She killed herself before her wedding night.
I guess she didn’t think her father’s choice of mate would
appreciate seeing my initials carved into her skin.