Unraveled Control

Chapter 2 A New Identity

Arlo

My mother calls me to a meeting at her house. I live in one of the safe houses not too far away. I moved out when I was 18. The safe house is perfect for me—it's a large home for myself and my guards. We mainly party, but it also has a torture dungeon that’s been used a lot to get information for The Order. I get into my Lamborghini; it’s black with gold-tinted windows and gold accents. It was my 28th birthday gift from my parents. I start driving to their house in the country, about 30 minutes away. I prefer the city life, while they prefer the country.

I walk into my parents' house, and one of my mother’s guards says she’s in her office waiting for me. I walk into the office and see my mother, father, and my little sister Blair. My mother, with her piercing blue eyes and fiery red hair, looks at me with a mixture of annoyance and determination. My father, with his dark red hair and sharp green eyes, stands beside her with a stern expression. Blair, a carbon copy of our mother with the same striking blue eyes and red hair, sits smugly.

I laugh, “Is this an intervention or something? I swear I don’t drink or smoke weed that much.”

My mother glares at me. “Arlo, this is not some damn intervention but a talk.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh great, a f*****g talk.” I then sit down on her leather couch. “What did I do this time, mother?”

She says nothing, just staring daggers at me. “That’s the problem. I need you to be more assertive and mature. Look at your little sister—she’s already married and has a baby on the way.”

Blair smirks at me. I sneer back, “Yeah, and she also married a tight-ass prick.”

Blair yells, “Patrick is a good man, and you know it, Arlo!”

My father then looks at me and puts a piece of paper in front of me. “Your mother and I have been thinking more and more about you settling down. We’ve arranged for you to marry Ella.”

I push the paper away. “Oh hell no! I am not marrying that f*****g airhead. She’s f*****g stupid and has literally slept with the entire college rugby team.”

Blair laughs, “You have no room to judge. Didn’t you sleep with the entire college volleyball team?”

I glare at Blair. My father says, “We tried to be patient, but we really think Ella will straighten you out.”

“Dad, I can’t marry her. First off, I can’t stand being in the same room with that girl—I’d f*****g snap. She’s all about her damn followers. Don’t you think she’d want to share The Order’s secrets?”

My father then says, “She is smarter than that, and she is beautiful. Don’t tell me you think she’s ugly.”

“Father, she’s pretty, but all she’d be good for is a one-night stand, not a marriage.”

My mother slaps me across the face. “Arlo, be nice and don’t talk about women like they’re pieces of meat.”

I’m so mad my fists are turning white. I try to breathe. My mother says, “Arlo, we need you to be more responsible, so marrying is the best way.”

I laugh, “Fine, then I’ll get married, but not to that f*****g w***e. Give me time to find my own woman—someone who actually has a f*****g brain.”

My mother says, “Fine, you have one month, but if you do not find someone, then you’re marrying Ella, and there is no f*****g divorce. If you do not go through with this, then I will pass my chair to Blair instead of you.”

Blair smiles big and looks at me. I glare at her. “Anything else, mother?”

“Yes, I actually have a job for you. The Taggart family is having an auction tonight; it’s 25k to get in.” She then hands me the money. “Samuel Taggart is auctioning women tonight.”

I look at her, “So what? Mafia houses can sell women if they want to.”

“Arlo, do you think I’m stupid and don’t know the laws?” I shut up. “The Order has heard rumors of the auction having underage girls. If any of those women are under 18, his house is going to be killed. We need you to go and film the auction.” She then hands me a pair of glasses. “Wear these glasses; they will film everything. Also, listen to people’s conversations. You need to try to look different—dye your hair or something. I will have Lisa, my makeup girl, help you. Do you accept this job?”

“Yes, mother, I will do this job.”

“Good, it will help prove you are mature.”

My mother calls for Lisa, who appears with the smell of cigarettes clinging to her. Lisa looks like she could kick anyone's ass in a boxing ring—not a girly girl, but she's loyal to my mother and pretty good with makeup.

"Yes, Lady MacKay, how may I assist you?" Lisa asks.

"I need you to make Arlo look less like himself. He's going undercover. Make him different," my mother orders.

Lisa smiles. "Yes, my lady."

I get up and start following Lisa, turning around to see Blair smirking as big as possible. I know she hopes I fail. I do love my sister, but she can be a real b***h too. Lisa takes me to my mother’s makeup room. I sit down, feeling awkward as hell.

"This is so f*****g awkward," I mutter.

Lisa looks at me with a smirk. "We'll use some temporary dye on your hair. The red hair of your family is pretty well known, and we don’t want them to think you’re part of this family." She then pulls out some hair dye. Also we got to shave this red facial hair. "Get ready to not recognize yourself anymore," she laughs, turning me around and starting her work while smoking a cigarette. I light up a joint—f**k it.

After a few hours, she turns me around, and I don't even look like myself anymore. My hair is now dark brown, and she put brown contacts in my eyes, covering my heterochromia— my blue and green eyes, my favorite feature. My freckles are gone under layers of makeup.

"Wow, Lisa, I look like a different man," I say, impressed.

She smiles. "Yes, you do, sir."

I get up and head to the dining room, where my family is eating. They all drop their jaws when they see me.

My mother says, "You don’t even look like my boy anymore. I don’t like it."

I laugh. "I don’t think they’ll realize who I am now." I then put on the glasses.

She nods. "That is perfect, Arlo. You also need to come up with a different name."

Blair interjects with a smirk, "I have a suggestion: how about Ass Hat? Or Sir Tiny Pecker?"

I give her a cold stare. My dad steps in, "No, no, stop it, Blair. Just make your name John. That’s a good name and generic enough. Say you’re John Smith from the southern part of Scotland."

My mother hands me the coordinates. "Make sure you have the 25k to get in, and here’s another 10k for anything you might need. You might bid on a woman. Just so they don’t suspect you."

Blair laughs, "Watch he will come home with a s*x slave."

I glare at her, then look at my parents. "Alright, I’ll do it. John Smith from the southern part of Scotland, ready to go."

My mother nods approvingly. "Good. This will help prove you are mature enough for greater responsibilities."