Chapter 83: Chapter 83

THE WHITE...

Perfectly tailored white shirt, symmetrical tie, all the buttons of the waistcoat closed, well-ironed jacket and shiny shoes. I didn't need to prepare for this event, but I insisted.

I look across the street where the Parker Mansion was built. My feet tingle, I wait impatiently for the moment when I enter the house. However, I have to wait. The party isn't over yet.

The sun has already set for a few minutes, and a fine drizzle – a prelude to the rain – begins to fall. I hold the umbrella above me because I don't want to get my suit wet. Today, indeed, the devil wears Prada.

When I work, I can usually freeze my emotions. I don't feel good because I'm not a psychopath. However, I don't feel bad either. I do not do it. The result of my work is my clients' problem, not mine.

However, exceptionally today, I feel a certain emotion while waiting for the end of the small party organized by Skyla. Because today I'm not doing a favor, I'm having a whim.

Angelic ran away from me, ran away from my apartment building, and disappeared all over the fucking town. She made me look everywhere, threaten the taxi driver and wake Jason from his precious sleep.

If there's one thing she's gonna do tonight, it's make up for the time I lost.

The first people begin to exit through the iron gates, leaving it open. Of course, it would be very naive to expect a certain sense of responsibility from these drunkards.

I take the first step home.

How many days of hell are there before reaching heaven?

I ask this because I cannot believe that a worthy and honest man like me has to go through so much.

Yes, damn, I bought it. And what does that imply?

The other option was for her to stay in Elliot's evil crosshairs, or for Margot to get someone else to do the job that I didn't do.

I did well, believe Angelic or not. And this is new to me. Couldn't she look at my act with a little more gratitude? Was the only option really to run away from me, forcing me to put every cop in town on his heels?

I walk through the doors and enter the Parker residence. I've already checked that all the security cameras are off. In fact, I already made sure of everything. I might as well have someone come over here and pull Angelic by the hair. But who will have the honor to do that, it's me. I make a remark.

I push open the door, close the umbrella and leave it in the hallway. I enter the first room of the house. Skyla's dad didn't play when he built this mansion, after all all he wanted was to get rid of the dirty diapers. Loud music echoes off the walls, then I head to the recreation area. In the distance, I see people in the pool, probably because they don't have the strength to get out.

I look around, looking for blond hair. I can not find.

The overcast weather has forced most people out, so many of them are sprawled out on couches in the overcast area. There are plenty of bottles and glasses on the floor.

None of the drunks and drug addicts notice me, they're too busy hallucinating in their own heads.

I look again at all the faces, then I find his.

Angelic is next to Tyler Donovan, his childhood classmate. When I said I knew all about Angelic Donneli, I wasn't kidding. I know all about your past and your present, and I dare say I know your future as well. His head rests on Donovan's shoulder and they are both unconscious.

I approach. Now, the intention is not to pull her by the hair, but to find out what happened in my absence. Why is she wearing a tiny bikini? Why is Tyler Donovan here? And the fuck, why is she brunette?

I kick Donovan and he starts to wake up, half drunk, half dazed. He looks around, looking for a memory, then his narrowed eyes fix on me, trying to recognize me.

- Hi guy? - he yawns. Angelique snuggled up next to her.

I ended up at a teenage party, only because this woman couldn't stop for five minutes and listen to me.

Honestly, I've been in a better position in my life.

- What happened? I ask, even though I know he can barely say his own name.

I'm studying Angelic, and despite her dark hair, she looks exactly the same as the last time I saw her. There are no missing pieces, other than the notion.

– She drank too much – Tyler tries to sit up, but his limp body prevents him – Is that your girlfriend? - he asks.

I take a long breath. He wants to know what Angelique means to me, so he has an idea of the problems he has. In this case, I answer:

- Yeah.

I don't bother to prolong our dialogue. I bend down, pull Angelic onto my lap and throw his body over my shoulder. She complains, but makes no move to wake up. Your body is sticky and smells of alcohol.

"Man, they even offered me money to leave her," Tyler mutters. "Imagine what they would do to your girlfriend if I wasn't there.

I could – and, I admit, I would – punch your princess face, but I don't think it's right to punch a drunken man. So I'll make a point of coming back when he's sober.

- What did they give him? I ask, because it's impossible for a woman in her condition to have just been drinking.

He closes his eyes, slowly feeling the aftermath of all the booze he's been drinking.

- All.

My fists automatically clench, and I force myself to count the sheep, lest I cause the next carnage that will be covered in the newspapers. The discomfort I feel thinking about the possibilities becomes physical.

But. What. Hell.

- Which are? - I control my voice so as not to shout at the wrong person.

– I don't know – Tyler looks around – This guy is one of them – he points – But I don't remember the others.

I look down in the direction of his finger, staring at a young man stepping out of the pool. He looks upset, but I'm sure he's not mad. Quite the contrary. The accused shakes his hair, slides his hands to remove excess water. So I know you're not drunk. This one can take a beating today.

Without more words, I walk with Angelique on my shoulder towards the exit of the house. I can't find Skyla, so she must be in worse shape. I take the umbrella at the entrance, open it and go out. Now the drizzle has turned into a heavy drizzle. I hold the umbrella with one hand, while the other holds Angelic's legs.

I walk over to the car parked across the street, open the passenger side door and lay Angelic's body down on the seat. She mumbles something indecipherable as she snuggles against the padding. I fasten my seat belt and close the door.

I don't understand the anger running through my veins right now. When I walked into the house, I had a goal and was focused on it. But then I saw her, vulnerable and helpless because I had paid her not to stay. I'm angry at all the motherfuckers who took advantage of his fragility. I'm mad at her for putting herself in this situation.

And I... no, I'm not mad at myself. I have always been right.

As I head to the driver's side, I notice someone exiting through the doors of the Parker mansion. I watch the man walk towards his car parked at the side of the driveway. I analyze his every step, like an eagle, and I soon remember the face.

I open the car door again. I open the glove box and pull out a pair of black leather gloves. I don't want to leave my fingerprints on what I'm about to do. I slam the door and walk across the street while pulling on my gloves.

Every emotion that I have ever felt in my services, I feel it now. I want to punch a hole in that bastard's head with my bare hands so badly that I can't help myself. I don't want a gun, it has to be my hands.

Every human being has two versions of himself. The cordial version, who wakes up every morning, interacts with society and pretends to be peaceful. The other version, the one that has to stay in a cage, only appears when it needs to do damage.

And God have mercy on this man, because I don't mean to.

When I approach, the offender sees me. He nods, then opens the door of his truck.

- What's new? - salute.

In the silent street, there is only me, him and the rain. When I'm close enough, I grab her head and throw her to the side, banging her against the car window, causing the alarm to go off. The sound of his skull hitting the bodywork is music to my ears. I release him, giving him a chance to defend himself.

I want him to defend himself.

- What is that? - he screams.

The man staggers back, holding his head in his hands. There is a cut on the side, which is slowly oozing blood and smearing his face. He screams, curls up and tries to get away.

"Do you remember the drunk girl inside?" I ask. I take a step towards him – She looked so vulnerable, so easy… – those words aren't meant for him, they're meant to make me angry.

I grab his head and slam it against the car again. He screams, trying to pull away and control the pain at the same time. Then I grab his wet shirt and pull him up. The little woman-taker is almost my height.

- Guess what. There's someone really mad at the guys who tried to take advantage of her - I throw her body over the side of the truck still holding it - You wanna tell me who the sons of bitches were?

He squeals, grabs my hands and tries to free himself.

I do not see it. All I see are images of Angelic being drunk, stoned, and god knows what else.

- I say! I say, fuck!

I admit, now I'm disappointed. I thought our banter was going to last a few more minutes. He was even thinking of burning down his house later.

I free the man. He collapses to the ground as if gravity is at its maximum around us. I take a step back, fighting the urge to kick him, just so I don't miss the adrenaline rush.

- There are three guys in the second floor playroom. Dylan, Marco and Chris. They were in the pool with her – he admits.

Dylan, Marco and Chris... then.