Perfect Monster by B. B. Hamel
Cassie
One Month Later
I parked my bike out front of the Shiny Lobster and locked it to a meter. Sea Isle was starting to pick up again—not many tourists yet, but the bar was half filled. Winter waved as I made my way to the back to punch in. The place was dim and decorated with ocean-themed kitsch: old wooden buoys, lobster cages, oars, boat photographs, and mermaid paintings. The tables were chipped, the vinyl floors peeling, but the drinks were cheap and the music was loud, so people seemed to like it.
“Crowded for a Tuesday in March.” Mikey grinned at me and flipped his shaggy hair back.
I punched in at the computer. “Can’t complain. I could use the tips.”
“You always get good tips. Easy for a pretty girl.”
I rolled my eyes. Mikey was nice enough but he suffered from brainless-douchey-guy syndrome. “Also helps that I work the bar, whereas you’re still bussing.”
He laughed and held up his hands. “Yeah, okay, you got me. Damn Cass, no need to stab me in the chest.”
“It’s been a stressful few weeks.” I didn’t mention that I was regularly having nightmares about a girl getting murdered.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” He waved and got back to work. I watched him go, frowning, and felt guilty for snapping. Mikey really was a decent guy, the sort of person I should want to be with. He was handsome and funny when he wanted to be, dumb sexist jokes and comments aside, but he just seemed so—bland. Nothing about him interested me, nothing made me want to sit up and take notice. Nothing inspired me to get out of my comfort zone, which was admittedly pretty small these days.
I tried dating a little, but it was hard. In the summer, the guys were only around for a few months at most, and none of the locals were my type. Winter kept saying my standards were way too high, but it wasn’t just that.
None of them made me feel alive. And none of them made me feel safe.
I couldn’t make her understand that though. Winter loved dating, loved men of all shapes and sizes, and she was infinitely more outgoing than I was.
I didn’t know why she put up with me.
Right now especially, I couldn’t imagine getting close to anyone. Ever since that night, I’d been on edge. It was worse the first few nights right afterward. I didn’t sleep and kept a can of Mace on hand at all times, even when I left my apartment in the middle of the day for groceries—that stuff saved my life once and it might again one day. I didn’t return Winter’s calls, which made her flip out and she literally broke into my place one day, which scared the crap out of me and nearly got her Maced.
We talked for a while and she made me dinner and forced me it sit down and watch a movie with her and that helped. I didn’t tell her about Roman or about the dead girl and she didn’t ask about any of that. She was just there for me, and after about a week, I started sleeping again.
I still jumped at every shadow, and my dreams were full of violence and sex and a confusing mix of the two, and Roman was always there, sometimes shirtless, wearing nothing but those running shorts, sometimes wearing his slick black suit, but always staring at me, his lips slightly parted—or his hand on my hips, or his fingers digging into my thigh—but that part never lasted. Manzi always appeared, and he always killed Dia, and I always woke screaming and drenched in sweat.
Night terrors. I thought I’d gotten over them.
Apparently not.
“You look hot tonight. What’s the occasion?” Winter wiped down a glass as I joined her behind the bar.
“Nothing special.” I frowned down at myself. I wore my usual baggy black shirt and black slacks. Jennie-Mae the owner always complained that I looked like an old lady and that I should dress more like Winter—which was a nice way of saying, I should show more cleavage. But I was a good bartender and dependable, so she didn’t push too hard.
“Oh sorry, I meant you look like a little boy going to his first funeral.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that bad. Also, weird, I didn’t know that was a look.”
“It’s the same thing as Hot Topic pre-teen.”
“Now I’m just hurt. I’m not wearing enough eyeliner for that.”
“You could at least let your hair down. You know you’re hot, right?”
“I’m not really interested in getting leered at by a bunch of locals, but thanks anyway.”
“Leering leads to tipping.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Learned it at bartender school. It’s the very first lesson.”
“What was the second lesson? Wait, let me guess. More tits means more tips?”
“Oh my god, you went to Cheers University too?”
I laughed and shook my head. “Honestly, I wish I went to bartender school. Sounds like a really good use of time and money.”
Winter sighed dramatically. “I miss it. We were like a little slutty family, you know? Always getting drunk. Those were the days.”
“Right because now you’re all grown up and responsible.”
“Hey, I only drink most nights. And only wine!”
“You’re practically grown up.”
“I do yoga too. And surf. Come on, I’m fully actualized.”
“Okay, I’m not sure adults are supposed to drink wine all the time and spend most of their days doing yoga and surfing.”
“I bartend at night.”
“You’re not helping yourself here.”
“Whatever, I don’t know how you managed this turn this around on me.” He put her hands on my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “Tug that shirt down. Show off the girls.”
“You’re gross. And no.”
“So disappointing. The world’s missing out, you know. It’s like keeping the Sistine Chapel locked up behind a Hanes oversized t-shirt.”
“The world will survive.”
I bumped her with my hip and she laughed. I stretched my fingers, logged into the computer, and moved to the end of the bar to serve my first customer of the night.
I fell into the flow of things, cleaning glasses, making small talk, pouring drinks. I laughed at bad jokes and bantered with Winter. It was a pretty normal shift, all things considered.
I didn’t even notice the creepy guy until about an hour into my shift.
At first, he was nothing special. Dark hair, black polo shirt, black jeans. He had a nice face, if a little skinny, and smiled a while lot even though he was alone. The Shiny Lobster wasn’t the sort of place people went to drink by themselves but I was too busy to judge him, and besides, I’d done plenty of stupid and weird things in the name of getting out of the house for a few hours.
But as the night progressed, I caught him watching me.
I thought I was crazy at first. It was little things, like I’d turn in his direction and he’d be staring at me. I’d look away, and when I looked back, he’d be looking at his phone like nothing happened. That happened a few times, and by the fourth I found myself drifting over toward Winter.
“Did you notice the guy sitting at the end of the bar over there?”
She glanced over my shoulder. “The cute one with the dark eyes? He’s not too bad. You thinking about asking him out?”
“He keeps staring at me.”
“Even better. Fluff up the girls and go see what he wants. Actually, I’ll tell you what he wants. He’d like you spread—“
“Okay, no thanks, definitely don’t need the details.”
Winter rolled her eyes. “Don’t be gross. I was just going to say, he wants to spread eagle on his bedroom floor riding his—“
“You’re a monster,” I said, walking away before she could go into very explicit details, which she was prone to doing.
But she followed and wouldn’t let it drop. “Okay, okay, I’ll drop with the sex talk, but seriously Cass. When was the last time you got laid? Or even did some cute hand stuff?”
“I didn’t realize hand stuff is cute. Not exactly what I’d call it.”
“Oh, right, you’re still in sixth grade.”
“Gross, Winter. Sixth graders are like twelve.”
She frowned and started counting quietly to herself. “Whoops, okay, let’s say eighth grade.”
“What the hell were you doing in middle school?”
“Hand stuff. Why were you doing?”
“I don’t know, wholesome things. I was in the band.”
“Of course you were.”
“I’m not asking him out, okay? I’m not looking for that.”
She put a hand on my arm and gave me that gentle knowing smile she always gave when she wanted to explain to me the birds and the bees. I was typed to dump a beer over her head, although she might actually like that, I was never sure with her.
“You can’t lock yourself up inside that apartment forever you know. I get you’ve gone through some stuff, and I haven’t asked what because I love you and respect your privacy, but you’ve got to come out sometime.”
I wasn’t expecting that. A lecture on the proper hand job wrist technique maybe, or pointers for how to get off when a guy goes down on you, sure, definitely within her wheelhouse, but that was actually sort of sweet.
“I’m trying,” I said softly. “I promise.”
“Yeah, I know you are.” She turned away and went to serve a customer, leaving me over near the bottles.
I glanced down at the creepy guy. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. He was a little good looking at least—nice jaw, decent teeth, arms were in good shape. And he was staring at me again, and not looking away. I could walk over there and say hello, make some small talk, maybe we’d have some things in common, maybe we’d even go out to dinner and hit it off and end up dating, and I could have sex for the first time in years, and maybe it’d be good, and maybe we’d get married, and—
I took a deep breath and looked away.
None of that was going to happen to me. I couldn’t even get in a car without freaking out. My issues ran deep, way deeper than was normal, and no amount of cute guys were going to solve any of them.
Though Winter would definitely disagree with me there.
The night continued. I poured drinks, smiled at bad jokes, laughed where appropriate, and collected my tips—which were admittedly fewer than Winter’s but at least I had my dignity though boy would it be nice to have some cash too—and the whole time that guy stayed where he was, watching and smiling and waiting.
He drank exactly three beers, nice and slow, like he could barely be bothered to finish them.
Closing time came around. Winter shouted out last call and I glanced over to where my weird admirer was sitting—and found his stool empty.
I tugged on Winter’s sleeve. “Where’d he got?”
She followed my gaze. “Cutie left a few minutes ago. You missed your chance, sister girl. But Old Ted’s single these days, I think his wife divorced him.”
“Yeah because he’s got a second family over in Ohio.”
“No shit. Old Ted’s got a second family?”
“I know. He’s super gross but I guess he’s like amazing in bed or something.”
Winter cackled at that. Old Ted was a regular at the Shiny Lobster, and not exactly what anyone would call ‘fuckable.’
The place emptied out and I went through the closing routine. Mikey helped even though he got done early. Winter and him chatted away, making dirty jokes at each other in an attempt to rile me up and scoring each comment on a system based on how red my cheeks were.
“Winter, baby, when I think about you, I get hard enough to roast you like a pig on my cock.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Winter protested.
“But her cheeks are like a solid six. Look at her!”
“I hate you two.” I wiped down the bar top. “I really despise you both. There’s a special section of hell waiting to receive the two of you with open arms.”
“I’d call that more like a five at best.” Winter frowned, got closer. “Four. Definitely a four.”
“That’s bullshit. Solid six. Look at her!” Mikey joined Winter, getting way too close.
“Okay! Enough!” I pushed them both away, which only made them laugh that much harder. I sighed and pulled at my hair, but I was smiling too—even though they were annoying as hell, I couldn’t help myself, it was kind of funny.
And it made me feel normal. All the teasing, the stupid comradery, it gave me a twisted sense of having a home again.
Even though my real home was a mess and I’d never go back to that place again, this wasn’t so bad.
I could live with this.
We finished up and headed outside. Winter locked up and waited while I unlocked my bike and Mike wandered down the block toward his car, waving once over his shoulder. Winter waved back.
“Sometimes I think you have a crush on him,” I said as I pulled my bike free and got onto the seat.
“He’s not my type. Too nice, you know?”
“Uh, I’m not sure I’d use the word nice. I mean, you’ve heard the filthy things he says, right?”
“Just to rile you up. It’s adorable.” Winter gave me a quick hug, but didn’t ask if I wanted a ride. She knew better than that by now. “Have a good ride home sweetie. Stomp on the floor when you get in.”
“Will do.”
She walked off and I watched her go then rode off onto the empty, quiet streets.
Sea Isle at two in the morning in the winter was a ghost town and I loved it. I had the street to myself and I could pretend like I was in my own little world where all the houses were mine and all the people inside were my closest friends. I had these elaborate fantasies—kind of pathetic, I know, but whatever—about living on an island populated with only the people I loved the most in the world, which was admittedly not that many, so it’d be a small island.
But still, I’d love a place of my own where I felt safe and secure. Even Sea Isle with all its touristy charm and big police force made me uncomfortable. All the cars, all the people in the summer, the lights and the loud noises, the fireworks and the screams of excitement and joy, it made me jump and flash back to that night, the bump of a body under tires, the gush of blood between my fingers.
Nothing made sense. Nothing ever worked. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how far I ran or how hard I worked to put what happened behind me, something always managed to creep up.
Like Manzi and Dia. Like Roman.
Especially Roman and those ice eyes.
A car slowly slid onto the street behind me. I drifted over toward the sidewalk to let it pass, but it didn’t speed up. Its main lights were off, only the side parking lights, and that wasn’t enough for the driver to see with. I felt a sudden chill and took a quick turn down a side street, but the car followed.
It was a black sedan. The front looked old and worn. I pedaled harder, across to Central Avenue. The houses on the bayside looked newer, sleeker, more modern, but just as empty. I was suddenly very aware that there was nobody nearby.
My apartment was on 86th Street. 56th flashed past.
I went faster. The car stayed right behind me. I felt panic rise in my chest and my legs began to burn. I wished I was in better shape.
I thought back to what Roman said.
About being in danger.
But he also said he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me, and I believed him.
Maybe that was stupid.
He said it himself—he was more dangerous than a gangster.
That house was seductive. Roza was nice. His hands felt good on my body.
I let myself believe the pretty lies.
And now I was paying for it.
Dia’s skull, blown to pieces, and Manzi’s wild, crazy eyes.
I worked harder. Sweat beaded on my skin, despite the cold. A harsh wind blew in off the bay, bringing the stink of stale plant life with it.
The car stayed right behind me for ten blocks.
When I reached 68th Street and the relative dark and quiet of the empty tourist homes, the car’s headlights suddenly blazed. The high beams bathed me in brightness and I turned my handlebars in surprise, veering off to the side and bounced up over the curb. I let out a shout, rolled over a rocky front yard, and rolled down a dead end street.
The marshy grass spread out in front of me as I slammed on my handlebars, lost control of the bike, and toppled over. I screamed as I hit the pavement and smashed my shoulder on the pavement. I would’ve lost a layer of skin all down my arm if it weren’t for the thick, oversized jacket I had on.
The car rolled to a stop right in front of me, the high beams still blazing.
I groaned and pushed myself up onto my hands then scrambled into my pockets.
The car door opened and a figure stepped out. It came toward me, walking into the blaze of the headlights, and as it got closer the sharp realization made me nearly throw up.
It was the creepy guy from the bar.
The one that smiled at me. The one I imagined dating.
He stood over me and pointed a gun at my face.
“Hello, Cassie. You’re a terrible bartender.”
“Who are you? What are you doing?”
“This is nothing personal. It’s just that Giatno ordered me to kill you and even though I don’t really love shooting girls in the face, I can’t say no to my Don. So here we are.”
My heart raced wildly. I saw Dia on her knees in front of Manzi. I heard her pleading for her life—the little Spanish pet names she used for him, the seductive curl to her voice—and knew there was nothing I could do.
Almost nothing.
Once upon a time, I almost died.
A horrible man sliced me open, side to side. Back then, I saved myself by blasting him in the face with pepper spray.
They say history repeats.
It’s not supposed to repeat like this.
I ripped the can of Mace from my pocket and threw myself to the side as I pressed down on the trigger.
The creep fired his gun a split second after. I heard the bullet whizz past my face and slam into the pavement behind me. I kept spraying the Mace, screaming so loud my throat was raw.
“Oh, you fucking BITCH,” the creep shouted and fired again, missed again. I rolled sideways, sprayed more Mace. He spit and wiped at his eyes with his free hand and shot his gun a third time, the noise so loud I thought it might make my ears explode, and missed again. I tried to run but my ankle was swollen from the crash and I staggered down to my knees in a shock of pain.
Tired burned along the pavement. Another car hurtled down the street. It was a black SUV, shining and dangerous. It slammed on its brakes and stopped inches behind the creep’s car.
“What the fuck is this?” The creep retched and spit again, still pawing at his face. He raised the weapon, aiming it at nothing. “Who the fuck are you?” he shouted.
Someone stepped out from the back seat.
The creepy squinted. His eyes were swollen and bright red like he’d been stung by a hundred angry bees. I scrambled away and put the creep’s car between him and me in case he decided to start shooting again.
The man walked forward and I let out an audible shocked gasp.
It was Roman.
What the hell was Roman doing?
Another person stepped out from the driver’s side. Erick, the bodyguard. He met my gaze and walked over casually, like we were meeting at a mall. He smiled warmly and knelt down next to me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Just my ankle.”
He looked down at my leg and shook his head. “Lucky girl.”
The creep took a few steps toward Roman then stopped. His hand shook and his gun lowered slightly, though still pointed at Roman’s midsection. “What are you doing here? I thought you were back in Manhattan. Giatno said—“
“Fuck what your boss said.” Roman’s voice was like a chorus of hammers. “Put that gun away.”
The creep hesitated, but he obeyed.
I stared in complete shock. I half expected the creep to start shooting at Roman.
“I’m following orders.” The creep’s voice took on a pleading edge. “You know I don’t have a choice in any of this, right? Giatno told me—“
Roman drew a gun from his waistband. He held it out casually and aimed it at the creep’s face.
“You know who I am.” Not a question. A statement.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then you know how I deal with problems.”
“Roman, I didn’t have a choice. I was given a job, I had to—“
Roman pulled the trigger. The fourth gunshot of the night barreled through the creep’s face. He crumpled backwards and slammed down against the pavement.
Blood splattered on the hood of the car.
Roman put the gun away and frowned with a slight distasteful curl of his lip before turning toward me.
“Is she okay?”
Erick stood up and raised a hand. “She’s okay. Shaken up, but not hit.”
“That’s good.” Real relief in his voice.
I got to my feet. My knees trembled.
That was the second person I watched get shot in the face, and it hadn’t gotten easier yet.
“What’s going on?” I looked between the two men, trying to keep myself under control. “I thought I was safe. You said they wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Things changed.” Roman stared at me like he wanted to stride over, throw me over his shoulder, and carry me off to whatever cave he called home. “You need to come with me.”
I looked at the car and shook my head. “I don’t do cars.”
“It’s not an option.” He walked toward me, stepping over the creep’s body. He didn’t seem to mind if he tracked blood along behind him.
“How are you here? I thought you left.”
“I got a tip that Giatno might make a move on you soon. I had men watching, but I decided to come myself. You’re lucky I did.”
“Lucky.” The word felt like a brand on my tongue. “I don’t think any of this is lucky.”
He stopped right in front of me. Erick walked off and got back into the SUV. Roman didn’t move, only stared down into my eyes.
I looked back and almost wished I hadn’t.
Something trembled in that gaze. Something shivered.
Or maybe that was my hands and my lips.
Heat radiated off of him like a fever.
Or maybe that was just my own sickness driving me crazy.
His mouth opened slightly and his tongue rolled across his lower lip like he was hungry for something.
Hungry for me.
And I loved it, loved the way he seemed to swallow me down, wanted to digest me, bring me into his world, make me all his.
His voice was velvet and a pinch.
“I know you didn’t want to get involved, but here we are. You have a choice to make. You can come with me and live through the next few days, or you can stay here and take the risk. Things are happening and I can’t promise I’ll always be around to stop Giatno or Manzi or any of the others from silencing you. Do you understand? This is your once chance.”
I tilted my chin up. I felt my knees go weak. “I really hate cars.”
“I know. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
I closed my eyes and nodded once. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
He took my hand. I opened my eyes and looked at him, surprised at the tender way he pulled me along. His fingers were rough like he worked with his hands but his grip was soft, like I was a delicate peach and he wanted to avoid bruising my flesh.
Or like I was a prize and he didn’t want to ruin me, not yet.
I climbed into the back with him. My core started to tremble.
He buckled me in then looked at Erick. “Jersey City,” he said
Erick nodded, the car pulled out, and I felt the panic rise up and threaten to crush me into nothingness.
