Like how as a soldier, he gets paid by the contract.
“Soon, you won’t have to worry about a thing,” he once promised me. “I’m going to take care of you.”
Liar.
Even before I learned about the soldier stuff, I knew something was off with Devil because of Dad. Sometimes he’d come home looking normal, just a bit worn down from a day’s drudgery. Those days he’d quickly get out of his tired state when he saw me, making us one of our favorite meals, fish tacos or spaghetti and meatballs, or meatloaf. Other times he’d come home looking frazzled and smelling of bleach, completely closed-off to me. But regardless of how he looked, he always had time to play catch with me on the front lawn.
Not that I wanted to play catch. There’s not a sport I’ve met that I enjoy. But I always enjoyed everything I did with Dad.
Anyway, I’ve always known something was going on at Devil.
Damien, Everest, Vale, Igor and Logan. They’re the founders of the most powerful business in the state. But from the way I’ve overheard Bob Nelson talk about it, I’ve come to understand that it’s also the biggest criminal organization on the East Coast.
Bigger even than the mafia. They fucking destroyed the mafia, and took its place.
I wonder if Quill’s killed anyone yet. If he had the money to throw away on a hotel suite, that means he’s gotten to be filthy rich. Which means hehaskilled people. Probably a lot of people.
Does it make me weird that the thought freaks me out, but also kind of turns me on?
I guess that’s par for the course for a girl who masturbates to the memory of a monster appearing in front of her in the night, and then, when he returns the next night, decides to have sex with him instead of calling the police.
I’m all kinds of fucked up.
I also know about the sub-sub basement level, but not from Quill. I feel pretty queasy as the elevator takes us down. I’m wondering what the hell is wrong with me for going back down here, but I would do a lot worse to find the answers to my parents’ death.
I swallow nervously as we reach the floor that serves as the Devil soldiers’ headquarters, feeling like I’m about to walk out of the elevator into the literal depths of hell.
But then the doors ding open, and I scrunch up my nose.
Oh.
Things have definitely changed since the last time I was here. Then again, it was dark, and I couldn’t see much.
Now, in the bright fluorescent lights, hell looks like a waiting room you might see at a dentist’s office, with plasticy blue chairs, a musty green carpet and shitty flower paintings on the walls.
I don’t even have time to think twice about where we’ve ended up, though, because Josh waltzes right out.
“What’s all this?” he asks, looking around in surprise. “Is this where Bob Nelson has his office?”
I don’t have time to answer before there’s the sudden shuffling of feet. I crouch behind a row of chairs, yanking Josh down by the collar. Then I wait with baited breath, wondering if the people coming are soldiers.
If so, I really hope they don’t see us behind the chairs, or we’re fucked.
But how could they not? The chairs don’t exactly hide us. One glance in our direction would be all it takes to notice us.
My worry is overtaken by disgust as, crouching on the carpeted floor, I take in the scent that rises from it.
This is definitely not your typical dentist’s carpet.
This carpet smells like pure bleach.
I remember that smell coming from Dad. The bleach stench on his clothes accompanied by the closed-off look on his face because he’d clearly seen things.
Regardless, he didn’t have a choice but to go back to work for Devil. If he quit his job, or lost it, then we’d really have nothing.
Unless we did the sane thing and moved back to California. But Mom didn’t want to, and now, as I think back to what Jonestold me, a massive lump rises in my throat.
Bleach and parents are suddenly wiped from my mind as the shuffling feet draw near. I recognize the two guys they belong to.
