Chapter one: Dealings with the Devil.
For the next six years, misery was all she knew and yet, she'd grown accustom to the dark feelings and befriended them. They were all she had left, really.
After declining an offer to return to the dangerous and demanding job, she settled for one at the local diner, scrubbing plates and serving impudent customers who had little respect for the woman's manners and her sickly-sweet plastered on smile that was used to help those who needed some positivity in their lives, but clearly, it didn't change anything. To them, she was nothing but a fly on the wall and she hated reliving the same dead end job every day. It was torture.
Then she found the true meaning of torture, and for what it was worth and the implications it would have on her mental health. Upon working her ass off, ten hour shifts every day whilst wearing a degrading uniform for all to see, her mother upped and left as though her children's lives meant nothing to her. In their trust funds, she'd stolen at least two thousand dollars and fled, taking their hard earned cash to spend it on another.
Margo was angry with her and mad at the world for losing both parents when she needed them the most, though a part of her didn't blame her mother for leaving, considering she'd lost her husband not so long ago and had to stare his remains in the eyes every day despite their efforts to keep her lavish lifestyle afloat.
And, overall else she felt towards the woman, she despised her for leaving Matthew. He needed a positive role model in his life and whilst Margo tried to fulfil the role, their mother needed to be in the picture. Now that she was gone, he had to rely on his older sister of two years and they promised to help each other during the rough times they were battling individually.
While Matthew had taken to drug use, easily disposing of the evidence and keeping a great poker face to hide his tracks, Margo wasn't so elegant in her alcohol addiction. Each night she came through the door, a bottle of liquor in her hand and she'd collapse on their legless couch and drown her sorrows.
It was hard. Almost playing both roles of mother and sister, Margo worked vigorously to make ends meet whilst Matthew had been enrolled into the local college to put himself to good use, considering he was smart and he'd dishonour his father by letting his brain cells go to waste by the drug use.
This metaphorical wall that Margo built around herself thickened. She recalled how ten years ago, she was a timid little girl who could barely lift her head, terrified of meeting the gaze of an intruder. Anxiety clung to her skin like wet clothes and pressed against her chest, causing her to breath to quicken to grasp a breath. Her appearance was rugged and to collect herself out of bed was an absolute struggle, considering school was her worst nightmare.
Now, she was the complete opposite, as though she'd won the war against herself, whether that had been for the better or worse. Whilst she still didn't talk to many people, keeping in mind through her experiences as a Special Forces officer, her paranoia got the best of her and reminded her that she couldn't trust anybody but herself and her brother, sometimes.
She'd encountered a man, not long ago. His attempts to break the barrier fell short upon recognising this woman wouldn't budge. However, with all his might, he made a self righteous leap and found himself close to gaining access. It began with sweet talk in the diner and slipping tips into her apron pocket. It was evident that this woman was on the edge of poverty and he could simply tell by looking into her bloodshot eyes and the scent of damp on her skin. He tried to help her and in the beginning, she refused the tips but after awhile, it fed her addiction and she wordlessly accepted the exchange, raising a smile of thanks but it barely reached her face.
Eventually, he trespassed against the threshold of her two bedroom apartment in the rural outskirts of the town. From there, they had secret meetings in her room as though she was a teenager again and boys were forbidden in her bedroom with the door closed. She'd hate for Matthew to find out about her risque behaviour.
Then, when the man got too close, she had to push him away as the thought of commitment scared her. She had no ties to anybody and she wanted to keep it that way, hence why she had no friends to begin with and now that someone wanted to deepen the circumstances, it was absurd. He had to be looking something, didn't he? For she was a simple woman with a complex mind, some told him, so why go through the effort of perusing a relationship with a lost cause?
Oh, he didn't take this too well. She refused to take his calls from the phone he provided for her. She pretended she wasn't home every time he knocked on the door, praying for it to be opened and reveal the mess she'd became due to his uncomfortable loss and every time he visited the diner, having memorised her shifts, she avoided him like the plague, though she felt bad for taking and not giving. So instead of compromising with her morals, she remained smug and kept the gifts. She earned them after putting up with all she did.
One thing was for certain; she was better off alone, just like she'd told herself many years prior. She was untouchable this way and the only loss that would affect her would be her brothers, but now that he was going to college most days and she worked for a living, it was a burning thought that pressed on her temple and maybe, just maybe, she'd be fine if he left for good.
Nobody knew who she was and life was easy that way. A mystery full of surprises, though her aura of cigarette smoke and the twang of alcohol on her tongue suffocated all else round her, preventing them from stepping a foot in her direction. She was strong and didn't need anybody but herself, and most days, her mind didn't correlate with her body, and so, ordinarily, she was lost.
Yet, the man rung her on this fine day and something ignited inside of her soul and told her to go forth and venture the possibilities the rich man had to offer because her rent needed paid by the end of the month and by god, would she find a way to make another end meet.
She picked up, hearing his raspy voice that held disbelief that she finally answered. She made up a lie to excuse her absence, saying that it was coming close to the memorial of her father's execution and the last thing she wanted to do was communicate with anyone. Thankfully, he believed her and proposed a deal she couldn't refuse; to meet up with him at the bar and just for her presence, he'd give her two hundred dollars.
The sex was mediocre, considering he had a wide surface area to work with. The conversations were bare minimum because he was an acquire taste but to her, he was bland and held no particular qualities to entertain her, so she didn't put any effort in at all. Why did he want her attention?
Anyhow, she slipped on a black dress which stopped at her mid thigh. Her outfit was complimented with black heels to match and her hair was pulled up in a loose pony tail. From an outsider's perspective, she looked like a hooker and she was anything but. The minute a foreign hand were to touch her skin, she'd set off like a firecracker and burn them in her awakening. She was desperate for money but not that desperate, but maybe in a way, she was, considering she took money off a man for their shared pleasure.
Soon later, she entered the bar with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Despite the anxiety that resigned in her stomach, daring to flare up in the form of acidic waste, her tanned legs made their way through the area, past the men and women who crowded in the room of smoke. To fit the image of an alcoholic, she'd already stunk of intoxicating concoctions but no matter how much she had to drink, her vision was clear, and she couldn't find the man in sight.
As she neared the bar, her heart thumped against her rip cage as a broad back with greying hair sat on a stool. From what she could see, he was alone and wore a navy baseball cap with a matching bomber jacket. She wanted to turn away, though she yearned to face the music and observe the man's features.
So she did. She manoeuvred past the bodies on the wooden floor and made her way over to the man. In suspicion, she took a stool at the edge of the table so she could see his face from where she sat. There were only a couple seats between them so the view was perfect, and the man she saw nearly made her fall off the stool.
"It's great to see you again, Vixen."
"You shouldn't be here, Pope." Margo waved the bartender over and ordered an Irish whisky on ice to match her native bloodline.
Santiago sipped his beer and eyed the woman. She hadn't changed a bit. "I'm sorry it had to be this way. Your little boyfriend was an easy target."
"He's not my boyfriend and little would be an understatement." Margo snorted. "What brings you here?"
Santiago's eyes scanned his surroundings and once the bartender was out of earshot, he said. "I need your help."
"I'm not living that life again, Pope. You know that."
"Please." Santiago pleaded. "We can't do this without you."
"And by 'we' I'm guessing the others are on board?"
Pope nervously chewed on the dead skin of his lips. "And they've only agreed to follow through with the mission if you comply."
"Cut the shit, love." Margo's soothing voice lulled him into a trap of confession.
Pope nodded his head, taking one last sip from the glass. "I've been watching you for awhile and I know you're in need of money, so how about one last trip?"
"What's in it for me?"
"Millions and millions of dollars." Pope concluded before continuing, a slight strike of victory in his system upon seeing a flash of awe cross Margo's eyes. "I know you've got your brother to look after but you're one of our strongest members and you'll come out the other side a millionaire. Are you in?"
Margo didn't hesitate. "When do we leave?"