Everything Sinister

Thirty-Five

I still hear the screaming at nights.

~

I wonder how death tastes like.

~LA

~

I don't know the details about the transactions. I knew where the papers are hidden. I know that Shaw used a chain of outlaws to communicate with his clients. I know that the contracts first came in as restaurant orders.

Food is the way how you kill, a number is the date and the drink is how we should conceal it, if at all.

Her order was spagetti with extra sauce number 1711 with water. I knew from the moment I looked on the order... on the contract... she was meaningless. The contract was just a threat those little ginger waves had nothing to do with. Yet I still burnt my copy and started packing.

I told you about those three businesses Shaw ran. At the time I knew this: Money from drugs was easy to conceal because it was all cash. Of course it had many complications which was one of the reasons why the boss of the drug ring never lasted for long.

But money from assassinations was a bit more complicated. Shaw recieved orders from all around the world. Even though FBI calls Sincity the city of untouchables, the wolf had to be very careful not to slip.

That is where Virgin's Doom came into picture. I said earlier, that club was Shaw's main income. It was. But it wasn't because it was a popular nightclub. Shaw earned thousands of dollars from that club because it was used for money laundering.

Reservations, drinks that never made it to the table, credit cards that somehow lost an owner... it was all Virgin's Doom.

And I knew that. Demont knew it too.

But we underestimated Shaw and how fucked up the guy really was.

~

~

I still hear the screaming at nights. Even yesterday I remember that nightmare. I remember those waves. Ginger, brown, ginger, brown, ginger, brown and red. So much red. So much blood.

I wonder how death tastes like. Because for her parents it sure tasted sweet. But I don't think they appreciated it.

It was very hard to sleep the night I went home. It was very hard to just lie down in the bed, knowing she is going to lay in the same soft covers. But I did it anyways because I was fucking exhausted.

Sheila was probably somewhere enjoying her newfound freedom, Dayton was somewhere trying to come up with yet another way to torture Elora and I was kind of hoping Demont was somewhere fucking some chick. I think I kind of hoped he had let go of that fascination and I had let go of mine because every passing day I saw more light around his head.

~

"Good one, Sheila!" I yelled with laughter.

Sheila snickered when Bell fell over when she punched him in the unprotected shoulder. Bell's shocked face made me laugh harder because I knew what was going to happen next.

"Oh god! Sheila! Are you okay? Didn't you punch too hard?" he said hysterically. Sheila narrowed her eyes at him with annoyance.

"Shut up, Bell. I'll punch you until your shoulder falls off." she grumbled. Bell laughed and hunched over when Sheila kicked him when she passed him. A glove was thrown my way and I laughed even harder, fist bumping with bell.

"Am I the only adult here?" Sheila threw her hands in the air.

"No. But you are the only grandma here." Bell pointed out.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Laugh all you want." Sheila mumbled under her bretath.

"Wow. It's so cheerful here."

I turned around. He had a way with dramatic entrances. He looked pissed and I think it turned me on. Just a bit. Demont flexed his arms under his shirt and I raised my eyebrow. His jaw was clenched and his golden eyes were narrowed.

"Oh. Hey. Demont." an awkward voice said. I turned to Sheila, her serious gaze, again crumbling her face.

"Hey miss Shelliana." he winked at her.

Bell looked from Sheila to Demont with confusion and then at me with raised eyebrows and an amused expression. Demont looked at Bell suspiciously and I rolled my eyes.

I jumped off of the rink, putting my arm on his shoulder.

"Bell is harmless, Demont."

To be straightforward, now that I look back it was pretty obvious that a handsome, dark skinned man with beautiful curly hair that every girl dreamed off was looking at me. But I think some psychologist would say, I was... what was the expression... righ! In the fucking denial.

~

No shit, love.

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~