Sold To My Enemy

I sat in the dimly lit restaurant, waiting for my blind date, butterflies in my stomach. This guy might just work out, and finally, I can get married and leave this life of crime behind. I noticed I was tapping my foot nervously, and I stopped myself. Then I glanced at my phone. He was not here yet, and it was getting late. I unlocked my phone and opened my text messages. There was no unusual message indicating that my partner wouldn't be available. I scrolled through my recent call list, but nothing came up. I pocketed my phone and waited. Suddenly, the door to the restaurant swung open, and a person I didn't expect to see strode in, his head held high, like he was in control of the world, his long dark hair sleek and well combed, not a single strand out of place. As he walked in, he placed the phone he held to his ear, and I felt my phone vibrating in my purse. The world seemed to slow down as he walked, headed towards my table, and then waltzed past. I picked up my phone and placed it on my ear. “Hello?” “Where are you?” I glanced back just as he spun around, and our eyes met, glaring at each other. Soon, we were sitting at the same table facing each other, strong drinks in glasses before us. “What an interesting way to meet you again, Freda.” He finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “I wouldn’t call it interesting, if it were me.” I took a sip of my drink, then trailed my finger along the top of the glass. “I see you’ve not gotten over me yet.” His voice was crisp and confident. “Seriously! You’re the one to talk now, right? You deceived me! You never told me your father led a gang. The same gang that killed my brother.” “Listen Freda, let’s just say it’s tit-for-tat, alright? I mean, you didn’t tell me your family were gangsters too.” “At least I gave you a heads-up. When you begged to take things to the next level, I explained to you that I led a dangerous life. I didn’t want you to get involved.” “And did you realize how heartbroken I was that day?” He shot back. “How I couldn’t express my feelings to the girl I love because she led a dangerous life?” “Oh really? Do you really want to talk about wounds now? Fine! How did it feel when you found out that your parents shed my brother's blood? Satisfying, right?" I was on the brink of tears, but I held back. After we separated ten years ago, I vowed not to cry again about him or the pain he caused me. I would move on and permanently erase him from my life. And here he is, sitting as my partner for this blind date. “Which is why I said we should see it as t**s for tats.” "t**s for tats?" I snapped. “There is nothing equal about us. You did more!” “Nah. Your family just got what was coming for them.” “Really!” I shook my head to shake off strands of hair from my face. “I like to think we were never fated to meet.” “We still got together anyway.” His voice was cold now. I was angry at his unusual calm. “Zero remorse. And you had the guts to talk about your feelings?” I scoffed, then rose to my feet. “Why am I even stressing this conversation with you? Good luck finding other ladies, Mike.” I headed to the entrance, and with a gesture of my hand, armed men reappeared from where they hid in the restaurant and flanked me. I strode confidently out of the restaurant and into my car. The men entered their cars, and soon enough, we were racing down to my residence, as I struggled to forget everything about him, tears welling up in my eyes. Michael and I used to be very good friends in college, but we didn’t know about our deadly criminal background until I lost my brother in a bloodbath. I had hired a private investigator, and when I found out and confronted him, it happened to be the day he wanted to confess his feelings to me. I rejected him outright. It didn’t occur to me that I’d run into him again. I sighed, dabbing away tears and sniffing as the car stopped. Looking out the window, I realized that we were home. I was so carried away by my thoughts that I didn't even realize it. A man pulled the door open, and I slid out, walking past him like he never existed. Getting into the lounge, I mumbled greetings to my parents, who appeared to be burrowed in the chart they were looking at. Relieved that they didn't have to stop me as usual, I raced up the stairs until my mum's voice froze me in place. "Freda, where are you coming from?" I whirled around as my gaze met my mum's from where I stood in the gallery. In considering whether I should answer her or not, she spoke again. “Well, since that mouth of yours can’t open, I’m going to have to open them myself. I’m quite busy today and tomorrow, and I’d need your help.” “It was a blind date.” I blurted out. I had to. My mum had learnt to send me as her representative to boring events whenever she had urgent, shady deals to attend to, anytime she wanted to discipline me. She joined these associations to look good as a woman so nobody would have to suspect her for anything. “Too late.” She continued. “You lost your chance. You’ll be representing me at the State of the Act art gallery. You get to clear your name that way.” “State of the Act art gallery?” I raised a brow. “Your mission is to make the highest bid and get me the Cleopatra painting without fail. I’ll get you my bidding card in a moment.” And that was how I began attending art auction events.