Chapter 67: Chapter 67

ANGELIC...

I exit the garage and walk the few steps to the car. Before entering, I look around me. Race cars screech on the tarmac and people around are shouting and throwing drinks in the air.

Happiness. It doesn't matter if it lasts five seconds or five hours, if these people will be unhappy with their realities when the sun comes up. Now they are happy and that's all that matters. Unlike most of the people around me, these people know they will have a bit of happiness each time they gather here.

I get into the car. LeBlanc's perfume takes the place of the smell of the street in my head.

I look for the key card in the pocket of my shorts and I can't find it. I fiddle with the car; the seats, the dashboard, the console. I bend down to search the floor. I grope the floor of the car for the key, however, I end up bumping into another object. Glossy and bigger than the key card.

I withdraw my hand quickly. What is that?

I turn on the interior light to get a better view, and eventually find the map in the console itself, but now I'm curious about the other object under the seat. I start groping the ground again and touching the object to find out what it is.

It's stiff, cold, and probably metal. There is a dot, and as I touch it, I feel my heart racing. I've spent many hours avoiding looking at a gun, then I find another one here. Big day!

The gun is fixed in some kind of holder, which gives me a bit of work to free it. When I get it, I bring it before my eyes.

The gun has a grayish tint and shines as if polished. It is perfectly clean and intact, as if it had never been used. Not that I can tell the difference with the one that is used frequently. It's a small gun, barely bigger than my hand.

The more I look at her, the less scared I am. It is not about the object, but about the hands in which it is. And today, fortunately, it is in mine.

I carefully place the gun on the seat, pointing toward the door, just in case. I start the car and leave the factory area. My heart is still pounding because I'm doing something the Angelica two months ago would never do. I was so worried about the consequences that I never really experienced it for myself.

I follow the path that Dionysus taught me. I've been told never to trust anyone from the Bronx, but considering one of the biggest liars in the world is my parent, I can say I understand the bad temper.

God willing, I'm not getting killed here. I don't even have ID.

I arrive at what I hope is the warehouse. It's nothing more than a shed that takes up half the block, the paint worn and the top bricks visible. I look through the window at the dark, deserted street.

Strength. Courage.

I was angry, wasn't I? Because since he arrived, our lives have deteriorated. I was so pissed off about what happened last night that I didn't think to come. But what do I do then? What happens now?

I look sideways; where the gun is. I don't think about it a second time, because if I did, I wouldn't be here. I tucked the gun into the waistband of my shorts, feeling the cold tip make me shiver; cold or scared.

I get out of the car and the weather immediately forces me to hug the body. I feel the bottom of the door until I find the chains. That's how they usually close the doors in the Bronx. I pull on the chain and scale the gate, making a noise that echoes in the street. I look around, making sure I didn't wake anyone up.

I walk into the warehouse, so dark and quiet it scares me more than the outside. It smells of dust and mold, probably from being closed too long.

I strain my eyes to see something in the dark, and I see a concrete staircase at the end of the space. Dionisio claimed LeBlanc was here, which leads me to believe he must be upstairs.

I slowly climb the stairs. Part scared, part anxious. I start to hear voices coming from the second floor and I quicken my pace.

- It was good for a while - one of the voices of the day. A woman.

- It was ineffective - another responds.

He.

I finish climbing the stairs, then I see them. The second floor is a big space, dusty and old. There is furniture covered with a white sheet in every corner.

Leblanc is seated behind a wooden table, while the woman is seated on the table herself. How quickly he changes company!

I clear my throat to make my presence noticed. The woman turns her face towards me, and the little smile she sketched, little by little, disappears. Her dark hair and warm skin are familiar to me, but I don't really know her name.

LeBlanc is looking at me too, I know, but I ignore his gaze. I'm so pissed off about what my life has become because of him that I could shoot him in the forehead without even imagining the consequences.

"Get out," I said loudly.

I can send it, can't I? He beat Max for much less.

- Who? - the woman asks.

- Get out - I repeat. She keeps staring at me, and maybe she's ready to spend the whole night here. End of patience. I remove the gun from the waistband of my shorts and point it at her - Now.

Her eyes twinkle because she doesn't know if I can shoot, but she's dying to know.

- Am I getting kicked out of my fucking neighborhood?

I will not repeat. It doesn't matter who she is or where we are. I want her out. Indicate.

- Excuse us, Yolande. We'll talk later,” LeBlanc said, almost surprising me. I can't see it, but I can imagine the smugness in his eyes, thinking I'm doing this to get his attention. Idiot.

- It's good to escort this little girl forever from now on - Yolanda gets off the table - Because if I catch her alone, I'll rip ten fingers off her.

She walks towards me, because the stairs are the only way out. Her brown eyes locked on mine because she's not the kind of woman to back down. Neither am I anymore. Yolanda walks down the stairs, and when her footsteps fade away, I look at LeBlanc, and find her eyes on me, waiting.

Asshole. Liar.

"You are a liar," I said. Gun still in hand.

- I never said I wasn't.

He gets up from his chair and starts walking towards me. My pulse quickens. I am not afraid. I am not afraid of him. Now I know he's no good, and he's probably involved in countless illegalities in the Bronx. But still, I'm not afraid.

LeBlanc keeps walking, and I cock the gun, in the foolish hope that he'll stop her. Do not do.

- What's your name? You didn't even have the courage to tell us your true identity - I whisper.

- You know my name.

My hands ring and shake. I cocked a weapon I never got to use, and now I have to maintain my posture. I can't show that I just regretted coming here.

When his steps are too close to me, I aim for the ground and the fire. The shot emits a loud noise, which reverberates throughout the building. I could have sworn I felt the building shake. However, LeBlanc doesn't even move a finger or open his eyes. No matter what I do, he never looks surprised.

- Come on, Angelique. Aim at me - request.

He stops a few steps away, not because I fired, but simply because he wants to.

"These people in my house were after you or worked for you," I said. My voice seems less stable than when I arrived, and I hate that.

- Neither.

I look into his eyes, something I had avoided doing. Brilliant green in the dark, ready to pounce. In fact, their eyes are so keen they seem to have waited a lifetime for this moment.

LeBlanc takes another step forward and I step back. What is that ? I'm the armed person here!

My uninterrupted breathing is the only sound we produce. Him for analyzing me, me for trying to predict when he will move forward.

LeBlanc steps forward. When I think about shooting, and God knows I'd love to, he grabs my wrists and pulls the gun away from me. LeBlanc turns me around and presses my back to his chest. One of his hands is covering my mouth before I can even think of screaming, and the other, the one holding the gun, is on my stomach. I feel the hot end of the barrel too close to the skin under my pajamas.

Its smell is exactly like the car. Present and unmistakable, but very subtle.

I suck in my belly so as not to touch the gun and end up burning myself. He puts his lips to my ear and says in a threatening voice:

- If you wanted so much distance, who taught you the way to me?

I remain silent. He likes that; to tease me and give the impression that I like it, that I'm going.

- The senator was injured. That's what you wanted ! - to accuse.

He brings the gun closer to my skin again, this time cooler. His mouth falls to my shoulder and LeBlanc bites me. I have goosebumps, and if I weren't fighting so hard to look strong, I'd allow myself to shiver.

- Is that why you're here? To avenge your stepfather?

My God. What is his problem ?

I struggle, trying to free myself from his arms. LeBlanc turns me around and pushes me against the wall adjacent to the stairs. When he approaches me, to corner me, all I can think of is a way to escape. I don't want to be under your control. I know how much that intimidates me.

He gets close enough, so I bend my knee and slam him between his legs. When he doubles over, feeling something other than smug for the first time, I walk around him and run.

I run for the stairs, however, my body freezes when I hear a gunshot. My mind flashes back to yesterday afternoon when I heard that sound and a man fell dead at my feet. I slowly turn around because my feet can't move, even though I know LeBlanc isn't going to shoot me.

He shot.

- It hits well - he whispers - But now let's talk like adults. Come to me.

- No - I'm cracking up.

Never.

- Angelique.

His eyes are hard and cold, without patience. I suspect that when he's not arrogant, this man knows no bounds to cruelty.

I stay where I am. I'm the president's daughter, damn it! He can't shoot me.

LeBlanc disarms the gun and lays it at my feet, raising his hands in peace. As if that was our only downside.

I start to approach. Not because I was scared, but because I didn't like the sound of gunfire. For him, it's a power game. Whoever sends a little more wins. I stop two steps away and LeBlanc tries to close them.

- He is fine. You're angry? - question. I nod positively - Hit me. Take it on me.

As if it were possible, I become even more still. Frozen in place.

- Do you think I cheated on you? What did I use you? Who lied? - he approaches, to the point that his breath hits me in the face - Yes, I did. Prove how much it annoys you - his voice becomes a whisper - Show why you came, or didn't come.

Show why you came, or don't come...

Show why you came, or don't come...

My pulse quickens. I came for this, didn't I? To show that I would do what I had to do. Would I shoot him or be a coward? Would I hit him?

Show why you came, or don't come...

Next thing I know, my fingers are curled into a fist. Anger overwhelms me because all I wanted was stability in my life. Everything I devoted myself to just ceased to exist, and it's his fault. I squeeze my hand tighter. I gave him a powerful punch on the chin, which caused his face to turn slightly to the side.

The relief I feel is immediate. I needed this.

- Can you do better. I know you're angrier than that.

Yes.

I look at my hand. Maybe the punch hurt me more than it did him. The nodules are already starting to turn red. I bend my knee and land between her legs. It must be the universal blow capable of making a man bow.

LeBlanc faltered, leaning forward for a second. He pulls himself together faster than expected and turns to me, urging me to continue.

Show why you came, or don't come...

"Harder," he encourages me to continue, the fire starting to burn in his eyes.

I stare at him intently, watching his eyes settle on my mouth as I lick my parched lips. How far are we going?

I close my fist and punch him twice in the face. Believe me, I'm having so much fun with it, so much so that a small smile curves my lips.

LeBlanc touches his jaw, then looks at his bloody hand. I did it! He stares at me, his eyes darkening as he studies me.

"My turn," he whispers.

- Who?

I think running, however, his hands are faster. He grabs my waist, drapes me over his shoulder, and starts walking towards the table he and Yolanda were at earlier.

My amused smile dies.

Is it his turn? What does that mean?

"It's for letting Vicenzo think he could get you," he whispers. I feel a shock go through my body when his hand touches my ass - That's for letting Max think that - another slap. My skin is burning.

My chest tightens at his touch. Unexpected. I flinch, because I'm not used to someone touching me there.

- It's for later. 'Cause all the men in the fucking room were looking at you - another slap, this time harder, making me jump - That's for never obeying me - his hand hits me one last time before laying my body on Table.

I'm gasping, and even more as LeBlanc steps between my legs, moving closer. He fixes her gaze, expression hardening. Her breathing quickens and the rich scent she exudes from her body fills my mind. We are so close that the buttons of his black shirt brush against my breasts.

- I'll take you home, and from there you'll behave like a girl - His breath blows on my lips. LeBlanc slides a finger up my chin, then down. His hand closes around my neck, and I tilt my head back - Or force you to behave.

"I won't obey you, you bastard," I whisper, forcing myself not to look away.

- And even? - he asks slowly, squinting and wrapping my body around the waist, while a hand holds my neck.

I nod and his gaze hardens. I just know he felt challenged.

My chest tightens having him so close to me. I can practically taste your mouth. Mint and alcohol. I part my lips, feeling him hover above, feeling him about to bite me.

"Let's see how many slaps you can take before you learn," he whispers, looking desperate as he touches my bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. A tingle spreads across my face. However, he doesn't seem to notice.

LeBlanc is breathing hard, and I know it because I can feel the warm sighs against my skin. His hand tightens a little more on the skin of my neck before staring at me, analyzing, recognizing, registering. Then, finally, he walks away.