“I would hate for a fine business like yours to fail at paying its dues, Katy,” he resumes a facade of professionalism, stepping back and peering out the window. “If you aren’t able to pay the debts all the other hardworking business owners can pay responsibly, well, you know I can’t guarantee the safety of your business.”
I know it’s a threat, and I know better than to derail his machismo. “Of course, Oskar, that won’t be a problem.”
“Won’t it?” He casts a sidelong glare at me that is almost as terrifying as Konrad’s subtle groping.
Oskar lets out a deep sigh, turning to face me with a sudden longing in his eyes that chills me to the bone.
“My girls, Katy, they were so dedicated. They often left the men who visited my little establishment wanting so much more, you know? And who am I to deny paying customers?”
He moves closer to the couch, looming over me with a deadly serious face.
“All the paying men of the city really want from such lovely women is satisfaction, Katy. They can’t control their desires. And if talented women tease such men who can’t control themselves, are they not to blame when such men throw money at me to help them satisfy these cravings of theirs?”
Konrad is breathing heavily next to me, and I want more than anything else to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. To just tear away from these men and flee, to Natalie’s house, to the nearest train station, anywhere but here!
Oskar crouches down, and I can see the quiet hunger in his eyes. “Do you ever leave your patrons with such lingering cravings, Katy? Do you ever suppose some of them might pay to slake such a thirst?” He tilts his head to the side. “Four thousand a month, maybe?”
“More than that,” Konrad rasps practically into my ear, and now he slides his cold hand up my arm and to my shoulder where it stops to play with my hair, and I hear him lick his lips even though I deny him the satisfaction of looking him in the eyes while he plays with my helplessness.
Oskar laughs with cruelty. “Ah, see? You could have your first customer, you pretty little minx. Konrad here has had such an arrangement on his mind for quite a while, you know. He’d be a fine regular for you. Maybe even Nic would like a turn with such a lovely thing as you?” He turns to the door, and Nic is only staring a cold, dead stare at us.
“But you wouldn’t have to worry, dear,” Oskar resumes, running a hand through my hair after brushing Konrad aside, “with someone like me watching over you, you’d be safe as you are now. Safe and secure.”
The lust in his voice is palpable.
I say nothing, not because I’m restraining myself, but because I’m speechless, staring at Oskar aghast, wanting nothing more than to shove him out the window and face whatever retribution would come from Nic and Konrad afterwards.
The thug shrugs lightly, standing up as though he’d been having light conversation with me all this time. “Something to think about before tomorrow, no?”
He gives a nod to Konrad, who gives a rueful look and hesitates before withdrawing his groping hands and standing up, taking his place at Oskar’s side.
“Sleep well tonight, Katy,” Oskar says after finishing off the beer, tossing it into the box of baseball stuff. It lands on an autographed photo, and the frame cracks loudly. “We’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. It’s a big day for you, I think!”
I nod numbly. The thugs don’t wait for a response. They never wanted one: they’ve done what they came to do.
Nic opens the door as Oskar mutters something to him in Russian, and I can hear the three of them chattering to each other as they exit, slamming the door behind them so hard it rattles the windows.
Before I realize it’s over, I’m curled up into a ball on the couch, staring at the door after them. When the sounds finally die off, a sob bursts out of me, unable to be held back any longer. I bring my sleeves up to my face and cry into them, utterly shaken by how easily they invaded my home and touched me, just barely held back by their boss’s orders.
They can’t do this. They can’t do this. They can’t threaten me like this, why are they doing this to me? Why me?!
I don’t know how long I’m on the couch crying, but by the time I withdraw my sleeves, they’re soaked in my tears, and my chest feels sore. I suddenly feel ashamed of myself.
What, some goons come in and try to scare you, and you’re just gonna let them have the satisfaction of succeeding? My shaking hands ball into fists, and my jaw clenches as my eyes look to the box of Dad’s stuff. I stand up and pad over to it, picking up the beer bottle and staring at the broken glass from the shattered frame.