“Laugh again and I’m punching lower,” Aria warns. She stands next to me and watches as my father dips Bexley back, and says something to her when he does and a smile lights her face, making her laugh. “I would never wear this for anyone else,” Aria mutters next to me.
“I would never marry anyone else,” I mutter back to her.
“Yeah, she’s something special, isn’t she? Can I have her?” she jokes, well at least I think she’s kidding.
“She is,” I reply and Bexley stands and kisses my father’s cheek. She spots us and makes her way over. Before she gets to us a man steps in front of her, she looks back to me then to the man and nods her head to him. Aria grabs my arm and stops me from walking.
“Chill man, you just put a ring on it,” she says holding my arm.
“Don’t you have anyone else to bother?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
“Psst, you’re it. It’s so much fun, you’re like a child,” she goads.
“I’m walking away now, Aria,” I tell her stepping to where Tragger just took my wife to the dance floor. “Go all macho man on her ass,” she yells behind me.
I tap Tragger on the shoulder and he steps back and gives me my wife. She smiles up at me grabbing my red tie and straightening it.
“Miss me?” she asks placing her hands around my neck. My hands circle around her waist, hanging onto her ass.
“Always,” I say kissing her head.
“I want us to do something,” I say and she looks up at me and smiles.
“Yeah, what?”
“I want us to write notes to each other, seal them, and open them in two years’ time.”
“Oh, you’re pretty sure of yourself,” she says smacking my chest.
“Pixie, there’s no leaving me. You do realize that?” I warn her.
“I know, you would hunt me down and keep me locked up forever,” she teases.
“I would,” I say to her smiling.
I never want another woman in my life. You’re it. You will always be it.
Love me, when I’m old.
You better still be putting out, I will always want that pussy.
Tell me every day, how much you love me.
Never underestimate my love for you. It knows no bounds.
I have loved you from the moment I saw you.
My one rule, my one rule is never to stop showing you my love.
This story is not one of rainbows and happily ever after’s, so if you’re looking for that, stop reading. My story is fucked and deluded, just like the person telling it.
You see, I’m a trafficker. I traffic gorgeous young men for my clients, the lonely old women whose husbands are more than likely off cheating on them.
You’re not going to like me, I’m not going to lie.
I’m a bitch, a manipulator, the type of girl your mother warned you about.
I want to tell you a story, a story about some fucked up people. I am one of those fucked up people, among many. I was a woman who didn’t take no for an answer, I got what I wanted and I was good at what I did. My job wasn’t something ordinary people could do; you had to have no heart. Be cold as the cement beneath your feet, and that’s who I was, well I thought I was.
My job was hard, but I was good at it. I thought I would always be good at it. I was a fucked up person filling other people's fucked up realities, and that’s not even the worst of it. You may hate me by the end of this story, but I don’t really give a fuck. I don’t strive for people to love me or even like me.
So to tell you my complicated story, and how I came to where I am today. I have to take you back, back to the beginning.
I’d like to tell you about my childhood, and that it was so fucked up and it’s the reason I do what I do, but that would be a lie. My childhood was much like most people’s childhoods. I had a mother and father, who love me greatly. I have a brother and a sister, and though they get on my nerves, we love each other just as much.
No, my upbringing had nothing to do with the person I am today. That came from a night out with my brother and his new girlfriend. My brother is my twin. We do look a lot alike, with our dark hair and tanned skin. Both with the same hazel eyes, though unlike him, my body is covered in ink. Which, of course, my parents aren’t a big fan of, but the ink is my way to express my differences. I yearn to be different; I don’t want a mundane life.
So, anyway where was I?
Oh yes, my brother. Sometimes he knows me so well, that he knows what I’m thinking without saying it. It can be useful at times and some, not so much. Our baby sister who’s only one year younger than us could pass as our twin as well. We all look alike though our personalities differ considerably.
Jagger is my twin, and male whore working his way through lawyer school. Jessa is my baby sister, and I’m pretty sure wants to be a Goth. Me, well, I’m lost. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Nothing interests me, and I feel that time is ticking away. I’m almost twenty-five and still live at home with my parents. I work at a café that I absolutely hate. It’s full of rich and snobby people. My name is Aria, the lost person who has no idea what I want to do. There’s no way in hell I plan to work the rest of my life waitressing but as I said, I’m fussy and have no idea what I want to do.
Though as I was saying, that changed one night with Jagger’s girlfriend. Celcia was her name, she was already a lawyer. I’d known her for a few years though we never talked much. I knew she knew all about me from my brother, and as much of a whore that he is, he also has a bigger mouth than a girl that’s drunk. Celcia had one too many drinks and decided to tell me about her sex life. I wasn’t interested until she told me how she came about her sexual partners. I thought she was lying to start off with, I thought that doesn’t happen in the real world, only in movies or books. She asked for my number and told me they wanted someone new, someone who could get the job done. Whatever the job was? I brushed her off and thought nothing of it. That was until one night at work.
I never gave a second thought to what Celcia told me that night. I assumed she was drunk and making shit up. She wasn’t. I should have listened carefully, taken in all that she was rambling about. But I didn’t, so the following week when a gentleman came up to me and asked for me by my name, I was surprised. And then when he asked to talk to me in private, I was even more surprised. Then he asked me how many times I’ve been in love and had sexual partners, I was ready to punch him. He laughed at me, his name was Dominic. He wouldn’t tell me much at first; he wanted to get to know me, to see what I was capable of. He was in his early thirties I’m guessing. Very attractive, dressed in a suit. Short dark hair, mysterious was what he was.
“Celcia said you’re what I’m looking for. She said you would be able to handle what needed to be done. I’m not quite sure, you seem too young, too good.”
I wanted to yell at him, to scream at him. The way he said “good,” was like I was a schoolgirl, who did no wrong. So I answered all his questions that day, even the ones I didn’t want to. I needed to know more about what he was offering, even if that meant telling him things I didn’t want to.