Collateral Cat
1063 Words
ARABELLA
After Maximillian left, I rush to the shower.
Letting the water wash me clean—my sticky thighs, my swollen breasts.
But as the water flows over me, I feel his hands everywhere. My tears start falling, mixing with the water. I am beyond ashamed.
What was I thinking? I let that psychopath touch me. Liam would never forgive me.
By the time I get out of the shower, I have decided: I will beat him at his game. Make him pay for everything he did to me and made me do.
I will get stronger—for Liam's sake.
For my mom.
My dad.
So what if my parents hurt him first?
I have done nothing.
But he treats me like this.
I will swallow my pride if I have to.
I will beg if I have to.
But when the right time comes, I will dig a knife straight into his heart.
I towel myself dry—my hair, my body.
Sit on the bed. Pick up the barbecue.
It's now warm. I take a piece of the fish into my mouth.
It's spicy, peppery, melting in my mouth.
Reminding me of my late grandma.
For a second I almost forget that I am locked up by a psycho who wants my father crazy and my mom dead.
I am surprised when I find the foil empty. I ate it all.
What was he trying to do by getting me barbecue? Touching me all over?
I pinch my breast through the silk clothes until I feel the pain.
Don't you know you are only supposed to respond to Liam? I say, like it is supposed to respond.
I won't let him drive me crazy.
I am busy with my thoughts for the rest of the day. No one comes until night time.
Sofia brings dinner and leaves without a word.
I am not in the mood to talk to her either.
She should apologize for trying to strangle me and for hitting me.
I laugh at the thought.
Of course she won't.
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MAXIMILLIAN
The bar is dark. Only sparkles of light everywhere. Loud music overshadowing conversations.
Maximillian sits in a corner booth, a glass of wine in front of him. Half empty. He's been here for about twenty minutes, waiting for Jason.
A red-haired girl in a short black dress approaches him.
"Hey handsome, can I buy you another drink?" she asks.
Maximillian raises his glass and shakes his head. "Thank you."
"What about you take me home tonight?" She bites her lip.
"Married."
She doesn't give up. She moves to sit on his lap. "We could use a hotel."
He whispers something in her ear.
She jumps off him immediately and walks off without looking back.
He smirks.
A simple phrase. It works every time.
The door opens. Jason steps in, scanning the bar. Their eyes meet. Jason crosses to the booth, sliding into the seat opposite him.
"You're early," Jason says, signaling the waiter.
"You're late," Max responds.
The waiter appears. Jason orders a scotch. When the glass arrives, he takes a long sip before setting it down.
"I was held up by something."
Maximillian turns his glass in his hands. Doesn't drink.
"You are to take Arabella to Spain in two days."
Jason lifts an eyebrow. "Two days? Isn't that too fast? What are you trying to do?"
"The shipment is ready. Why wait?"
Jason sets his glass down slowly, then leans back.
"Okay. Okay. What's the plan?"
Maximillian leans forward.
"When you get to Spain, you give her the details."
Jason's eyes narrow.
"She's going to meet with Victor's allies. The ones who run his European operations. She's going to get them to trust her."
Jason laughs in disbelief. What his cousin is saying makes no sense.
"You want Victor Garcia's daughter to walk into a room full of drug lords and arms dealers and convince them she is sent by her father?"
"Yes."
"That's insane. She is just a sheltered princess, Max."
Maximillian's expression doesn't change. "No. A sheltered cat."
"You believe she can pull it off?"
"Of course she can pull anything off with a little push."
Jason stares at him for one long minute, trying to understand his thinking process.
"I still think dragging Arabella into this is a terrible idea."
"He killed my father. He destroyed my mother. His daughter is caught in the middle."
Jason doesn't argue. He's known Maximillian too long to argue.
"Okay. It's up to you."
Maximillian pulls a folded paper from his jacket. Slides it across the table.
Jason unfolds it. A list of names. Addresses. Notes about each one.
"Victor has three main contacts in Spain. Fuente. Hidalgo. Castillo. They handle distribution, money laundering, and supply routes. If we can get her inside their operations—get her to see how things work, what documents they keep, where they move money—we can cripple Victor's European network in one blow."
Jason studies the paper. "You think these men will trust her if she just says Victor sent her?"
"That's where you come in. You should be able to come up with something."
Jason folds the paper. Tucks it into his jacket. "I am escorting her?"
"Exactly."
"You… Never mind. I will think of something." He takes a long gulp of his scotch.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Max. If Victor finds out you are using his daughter against him…"
"He won't find out."
"And if she turns on you? If she decides to warn her father instead of helping you?"
Maximillian's eyes go dark.
"She won't."
"You sound very sure."
"I am."
Jason studies him. That look again. The one that is always so self-assured.
Maximillian drains his wine. Sets the empty glass down.
"Be ready in two days."
He slides out of the booth. Pulls his jacket back on.
"Max. One question."
Maximillian stops.
"When this is over, you achieve your goal, what happens to her?"
Maximillian doesn't answer immediately.
"Isn't she part of Victor's family?"
He walks out of the bar.
Jason sits alone in the booth, staring at the empty glass, thinking about the girl he's only met twice. About the look in his cousin's eyes when he said her name.
He's seen that look before.
On men who were about to destroy their own life.
He orders another scotch.
- Writer
