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Except I know I’m lying to myself. I can still taste his mouth on mine and feel his hands on my body. No matter how many times I remind myself that I find Carmine repulsive, that he’s exactly the kind of man I hate and the idea of marrying him makes me want to vomit and cry and throw myself off a cliff, not necessarily in that order, there’s still a sick physical part of me that wants to experience his rough touch and his low, melodious voice whispering all the filthy and depraves things I’ve always wanted to experience in some deep, dark parts of my brain.
It’s totally twisted and doesn’t feel good but it’s there, simmering under my surface.
Cassidy sighs and snuggles tighter against me. “I’m really going to miss you,” she says, and I choke back a response, because if I talk right now, I’m going to break down into tears. She has no clue what living with her has meant to me—being Cassidy’s roommate has been a freedom so few women in my family ever get to experience. Rowes are too proper to ever slum it like this, except somehow, I was given a pass by my father and got to live like a normal person for years, to the point where I’ve gotten used to this life and don’t want to give it up even if I knew this wasn’t going to be forever. And now it’s coming to an end.
Without warning, a loud bang at the door makes us both jump.
I yelp and spill some of my wine on my lap and jump to my feet. “Ah, shit!” I start dabbing at the wet mark when more banging echoes from the hallway, a massive and insistent pounding. “What the hell is that?”
“Sounds like someone is trying to break the freaking door in.” Cassidy gets up, much more graceful than I am, and puts her wine glass down before grabbing me a towel from the kitchen. I use it to dry off the best I can, but all through this, someone keeps slamming at the door, banging over and over, the most insistent and insane knock imaginable like they can’t decide if they want to break the door down or not.
“Can you please stop!” I shout at the top of my lungs. “Who the hell is out there?” I’m seething mad now. This is absolutely ridiculous. Who knocks like that? Nobody should be at our door right now at five in the evening.
My shout makes the knocking pause. A man’s voice calls out, “I’m looking for Brice Rowe.” He sounds pissed and I feel my blood pool in my feet.
“Brice isn’t here,” Cassidy says loudly before I can reply and gives me a serious expression. I know what it means:keep your mouth shut.
“I don’t believe you,” the man says and pounds on the door a few more times. “Open the fuck up. Miss Brice Rowe owes my family money and I’m here to collect.”
I feel a sick chill run into my spine. Cassidy’s recording with her phone now, taking a video of the door. “I don’t know who the hell you are or what you want, but please go away. If you keep knocking, I’m going to call the police.”
“Tell Brice that Stephen Panagos wants to have a word with her about her father’s recent activities. Remind her that just because her old man is in prison doesn’t mean that his debts went to prison with him.”
“Who the hell is Stephen Panagos? And why are you talking about her father like she has anything to do with what he did? Actually, I don’t care, just get out of here.”
“Tell her,” the man snarls. “I’ll be back soon and when I return, I want to speak with Brice. I want to make it very clear that she has certain responsibilities relating to the very shady fucking shit her father pulled. Stephen Panagos is a forgiving man, so long as he is made whole very quickly. Tell her to get in fucking touch.”
With that, the voice disappears, and the knocking stops.
I stand there, trembling. Cassidy keeps recording for another second before ending the video and sending it to me. My phone buzzes over near the couch and I go to it woodenly, my brain running in circles, fear chased by horror chased by dread chased by embarrassment, all of it attacking me at once. I can’t make sense of what just happened, but the image of my father sitting in jail comes back to me, over and over again.
“Deep breaths,” Cassidy says as I sit there trembling. “It’s okay, honey, it’s okay.”
“They’re going to kill me,” I whisper, staring at the floor. “My daddy stole all their money and they’re going to kill me.”
“Who the hell are they?”
“I don’t know, but you heard him. Some guy named Panagos. He thinks I owe them money but I don’t have any money, Grandpa controls everything now, and what the heck am I going to do?”
“It’s okay, it’s okay, they aren’t going to hurt you. They know you have nothing to do with what your father did, there’s nothing you can do about it. They’re just mad and trying to scare you, it’s okay.”
But it doesn’t feel okay. I grab my phone, stand, and walk away, hands shaking. I make a call, not thinking too deeply about it, just reacting on instinct. I reach out to the only person I think might be able to keep me safe right now, even if it feels wrong, so fucking wrong, but Carmine answers on the second ring.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he croons softly. “I didn’t expect a call from my future wife.”
“Carmine. Someone just came to my apartment and banged on the door and threatened to hurt me if I didn’t pay him back all the money my father stole from him, and I don’t know what to do.” I can feel the panic rising up into my throat. I’ve never had to deal with something like this before and now I’m terrified more people are going to show up at my door, hundreds of them, thousands, all the people my father ripped off. “I’m afraid they’re going to hurt me, and I’m freaking out.”
“Wait, slow down. Who showed up?”
“Panagos. He said he works for a guy named Stephen Panagos.”
There’s a short silence. Then: “Deadbolt your door. Don’t fucking move until I get there.”
“Carmine? Who the hell is Panagos?”
“Don’t. Fucking. Move. Do you understand me, Brice? Deadbolt your goddamn door. I’ll be there soon. Your father is a real piece of shit.”
He hangs up. I stare at the phone. I’m too bewildered to know what the hell to make of that, but Carmine’s on his way and a strange sense of relief floods through my body. Cassidy comes over and rubs my back, and I stay there staring at the door until I work up the nerve to click the deadbolt into place. I expect that guy to start banging and yelling again, but when I look out the peephole, the hallway is empty.
