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I send for an Uber then wait outside the bar another five minutes before I’m finally seated in a car and heading toward home.
“I’ve never seen that bar so packed during the week,” the driver comments. He looks to be a little younger than me, early twenties maybe, and has light brown hair and soft eyes.
“It’s a special occasion. You know that hotel with the lion and tiger shows?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, today it got shut down.”
“The hotel?”
“No, the shows. A couple of months ago one of the tigers was burned during one of theacts,” I sneer the word. “And today they got taken to a new home. Everyone who protested the shows is celebrating.”
His brow furrows, and he glances at me with eyes slightly narrowed. “Oh… cool.”
My pride fizzles some from his judgmental tone, but I don’t try to defend myself. I’ve been here before, and I know well enough that not everyone agrees with me. People like flashy, extravagant things, here and everywhere else. They don’t necessarily give a shit about the animals or even the people negatively impacted.
“I took my girlfriend to see one of their shows on our first date.”
“I guess you’ll have to see a movie now,” I comment, my tone flat.
We don’t utter another word the rest of the drive, and when he drops me off in front of my building, I resentfully pull out a five for a tip and hand it over.
I relax as the car pulls away and I’m left alone.
Jeremy, my building’s door man, holds the door open for me as I approach.
“Good evening, Ms. Norwood.”
“Good evening, Jeremy.”
I smile and nod as I pass through.
“I heard the news. You must be thrilled.”
I smile wider at the kindness in his tone and flip around as I walk backward to the stairwell. “Oh, you bet. Nothing can stop me now.”
I chuckle and have forgotten about the Uber driver’s bad attitude by the time I’m taking the stairs to my apartment. I kind of feel that way, unstoppable. Those casino owners are the wealthiest around, so itdidtake more than money to win this one. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe hard work can pay off. It feels like it has, regardless of the upper hand I happened to have.
I’m still smiling when I open the door to my home and click it shut behind me. I flip on the light and kick off my shoes, letting them land haphazardly by the door. I toss my purse and phone on the counter and am about to open the fridge for my bedtime snack, but do a double take at the bottle of wine on the kitchen island.
A cork rests on the counter next to the open bottle.
“Are you really twenty-five?”
I whip around toward the voice and back into the fridge. A man appears from the shadows in the dining room and props himself against the kitchen entryway. A wine glass filled a quarter of the way with cabernet I picked up this afternoon rests lazily in his hand. A second man walks up on his right and stands with his arms crossed.
“Because you have very good taste in wine for a twenty-five-year-old.”
“W-who are you?” I stumble out, my eyes flicking to my phone and then the door. My heart is beating so fast I can feel my pulse in my fingertips.
“Victor.”
“Would you stop playing with your food?” the other man growls, turning his glare on his partner. “You’re as bad as Lorenzo.”
“What do you want?” I snap, trying to make my voice sound authoritative, but it comes out as a squeak.
Both men turn to me, but I don’t wait for them to answer. I dart toward the door but am met on the other side of the island by Victor and I jump back. He smiles and puts the wine glass to his lips before setting it down. I don’t even notice that the other man has come up behind me, I’m too focused on the man with the insidious gaze, so when I open my mouth to scream, the angry one presses a hand over it. My muffled screams fill the air, but they aren’t loud enough for anyone outside the apartment to hear. I try to fight the man off, but his vice grip around my midsection is too strong, and I can't move more than a centimeter in any direction, even giving it my all.
Victor watches with a sick sort of pleasure.
“Hey, fuckstick, little bit of help?” the angry one asks.
Victor blinks and gives his head a shake. “Oh, right. Sorry.”
Tears stream down my face, and my vocal cords burn as I push out the loudest scream my body will manage when Victor pulls a needle from his pocket and comes toward me. He holds it in front of my face as he takes the cap off and spurts some of the liquid into the air.
“Don’t worry.” He winks and brings the needle to my neck. “This will only hurt a little.”
A pinch stings my neck, and the fight drains from me. My eyes shut, and I feel pressure as my body slumps into the angry man’s arms. I try to open my mouth to scream, but nothing happens.
