The Room of Rouge
Author's Note - I worked on this story over a course of a few months, but it was left to rot on a floppy for the longest time. I figured I'd pull it out and post it to tide you over as I put the finishing touchs on Floppy Disk 5.
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Everyone has a story to tell. We all have a story to tell. I've had my little story I've told people from time to time. You know, those drunks that stay behind and hunch over the bar to drink their problems away. I'm the martyr and a mediator, willingly or not, in some people's lives. I listen to their woes. I listen to their dead hopes and dreams and I try to provide what little comfort I can. I'm a bartender you see. I listen and learn much, probably more than I should. But sometimes I get asked about my life story and how I became a bartender. I don't remember too much of the beginning, but I do remember the person who pushed me down my path and how we met. In fact, they come by from time to time and we've been bed mates a time or two but its mostly just to catch up upon old times.
I was the spoiled brat of a local mafia. Of course I didn't exactly do much for them. I had been brought under their wing by simply cutting cigars, mixing drinks (at the ripe ol' age of 13 thank you), and occasionally stored a few of their "goods" in the least suspected place a cop would ever look. They were a very important part of my life and I believe they shaped me the way I am today. Like all stories, there's always a beginning. My beginning starts in a bedroom of rouge at the age of 12.
HER bedroom.
...
...
My eyes shot open suddenly. Pain. It was the first thing I felt as I tried to raise myself up, hand at my side to cushion a sharp pain that made itself known. My eyes caught something on my arm, causing my eyes to shift at it. Red. Lots of red. The red had spread across my body in the form of....a bathrobe? I felt it, finding it quite soft and knew it couldn't have been cheap to make. My eyes traveled elsewhere, looking around where I was. Red was the obvious dominate color of the room. Electric lamps held at a low dim kept the mood and atmosphere slightly mysterious. I shifted off the bed, holding my side and looked around a little more. It was probably a guest bedroom, what with the lack of clothing or any personal effects. I attempted to adjust the lighting on the nearby switch when I heard the soft click of the door open followed by, "'ey boss! That kid is up!" I had turned around, and saw the head of a Doberman looking at me. His brow formed into that of a scowl it seemed, watching me as he sized me up. He spoke, "Ya better get back on the bed, kid. And don't try anything funny. The boss is comin'." Given the situation, I had little choice but to keep quiet and obey. I wanted to ask a question, but felt asking would simply lead to getting hurt. Again. And he seemed the type to not care about age before beating the crap out of someone.
What had happened again? My hand found its way to my forehead as I made my way to the bed. I remember it being a bad day. Missed the school bus, lost my homework, and got chased by a dog. Sitting down felt harder than standing up it seemed, gripping my side firmly to comfort the pain that made itself known once my rear had found a place amongst the soft bed. I took the time I had to assess the situation. I was in a room, most likely a guest bedroom, wearing a bathrobe that obviously wasn't cheaply made. There was a faint smell of cigars in the air, along with what sounded like jazz music. My ears picked up voices, amongst the music on the other side of the door. The Doberman, and someone that sounded feminine. The door clicked softly before opening, bringing in the smell of cigars and jazz along with it. And.....her.
The small figure of a vixen started to approach me. My eyes traveled up and down her form out of mere habit, eyes mostly upon her eyepatch. It was the first time I'd seen someone with a real eyepatch which was kinda cool. Her motions were slow, but carefully placed. She held a refine grace with each careful step, fitting for one who ran a business or was someone of great importance. She paused a few steps before me as I lowered my head submissively in shame. A soft click signaled the door was closed followed by the Doberman standing at her side in silence. "Welcome to my home you little shit." She woman spat bitterly, her feet taking a few steps forward. My ears lowered. In a sudden burst of movement, her sharpened claws had gripped the collar of the generously provided bathrobe and forced me onto my back on the bed and slightly into the mattress. The force of the collision knocked the wind out of me. Pain had shot up my spine once again causing me to grunt. Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain that flowered through my form. I whimpered submissively as she spoke "Listen here boy..." She emphasized on the word 'boy'. She had spat in my face unknowingly as she continued, "You're lucky I was in a good mood, good enough mood to have you cleaned and treated after what you pulled," she mysed out, baring her teeth in an unvixen-like snarl as she let go of me. "Don't sit. Stand up. Now." She commanded, which I was quick to obey in spite of the pain, sniffling once.
She began to pace, never allowing her eye to leave me as she circled the bed and back again slowly. "But look here boy, you're not getting off like that. You see, I did you a favor kid, and in my line of work, we don't take something like that for granted. So here is how it's going to work. You're going to do ME a favor. Don't worry, it is nothing to sweat about, but, you're going to work, and I'm fairly sure you're not going to enjoy it. I'll fill you in on the details later, but for now, get yourself dressed. I don't want to see your scrawny body in any state of undress. Once you are dressed, you are to talk to my friend over here." Her head gestured to the Doberman briefly before continuing, "He will see that you are escorted out safely, and you best get to know him, as he'll also be the one picking you up tomorrow. If anyone asks, you're going out with friends. Understand?" I just nodded my head, against my wishes. "Good, you don't want to know what happens to those who cross me." No I do not. I looked around for my clothing and blinked, asking where my things were.
The vixen sighed and turned away from me, not worrying about answering my question until she was to the door of the room. Though, if one were to inspect her face, they could see an obvious grin forming, most likely from my compliance and respectful words. "I know I didn't touch a single strip of your clothing. You'll have to ask Davidson there, as he is the one that took care of you, I'm simply the one who gives the orders in these parts. Now if you're done asking your stupid questions, I'd like to sit down and enjoy my drink. In fact, I'm done answering your questions even if you have them, so just hurry along. If I see your face again I'll likely not be so kind, so you'd be wise to make a very active effort in getting out of here," she stated snidely, smirking devilishly before making her way out, parting with only a single, "Farewell." Before I could even reply, she was well out of sight. I just stood there, until she was out of earshot and sighed. I leaned against the bed and looked down. "I'll go get your clothes kid. Wait here." I just gave a small nod while I waited. He was back with my clothing in no time, giving me privacy by closing the door.I let out another heavy sigh, wiping away my tears. I felt sick to my stomach, entirely out of fear. My hands undid the bathrobe, which hide my nudity underneath. At that time it didn't cross my mind that Davidson, or anyone else saw me nude. More pressing matters had invaded my mind.
The door opened a few minutes later, "Kid, ya done yet?" The Doberman poked his head in. I nodded. I was lead through what appeared to be an underground bar. There was the bar, a few tables, the smell of cigars, and a few guys at one table playing cards. I had little time to look around as Davidson had rushed me through the place and closed the door after I was outside. I was about to make my way up the stairs when I heard a soft click of something sliding and a voice speaking out. It was Davidson again. "Kid, you'd better do as the Boss says. Or else. Okay? You don't want bad things to happen." I just stared at him then worked my way up the stairs out onto the sidewalk. It was pretty late, but I had no watch so judging from the time and the fact the lights were on, I'd say I was out a few hours. The pain in my side made itself known with every single step I took but I had to play it cool to keep it under wraps, or else people would ask questions. To this day I have no idea why I didn't go straight to the cops and report what happened. Maybe her words forced me into some sort of submission, or maybe she rubbed me in such a way that she wouldn't hesitate to do more than just grab me by the neck and throw me against a bed.
I went straight home, facing the wrath of both my parents who were obviously worried sick. I wanted to tell'em what really happened, but the threats of Ms. vixen made me bite my tongue and tell them the lie that they cooked up for me. I had checked the clock to see that I had been conked out for about 5 hours, which really threw me off in a sense. Hunger had roused itself within, causing me to go into the kitchen. But, there was a problem. There in front of me was a perfectly good peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk, yet I just couldn't eat it. Sure I had the empty stomach, but for some reason I just had no desire to eat at all. I stored it for later and headed up to take a shower, hoping it would make me feel better in some way. As I stood naked while being bathed in hot water, the events played out again in my head. Every word in that event echoed in my head. The pain in my side had become a dull ache, which I was grateful for. A thought had rang in my head as I was drying off. She said I had been patched up, but I saw no evidence of bandages, or....anything. Was it a lie? I checked my side where the pain had been, finding only a bruise. A sigh escaped as I continued drying my form off then just went to bed with an empty stomach and that vixen in my thoughts once more.....
The next day, things were uneventful as school. But the ever growing dread of the upcoming events after school filled my mind. I remember I was so nervous I couldn't even eat lunch save for a few bites. Before I knew it, the final bell had rang. Right on queue, a suave-looking limo had pulled up and a door opened before me. The vixen poked her head out and waved a hand at me, most likely to appear friendly, should anyone notice us. A small thought entered my mind, telling me to run. But that bitter voice of hers echoed in my mind about bad things happening if I disobeyed. Little did I know it would be a turning point in my life.
The vixen crawled back into the limo once she saw me approaching, not exactly exuberant to see my compliance, but she was at least pleased. Chasing down a boy in such a public environment would be....tricky, though certainly not beyond her. It was just easier that way, and thus not a single complaint was voiced from either of them. In fact, not a single word was voiced from the vixen once I was in a seat, she reached across me and shut the door forcefully. Not idling in her awkward reach across my waist, she quickly returned to her position and looked up to her driver, silently commanding him to go. My eyes had traveled across the place inside the limo. It was very nicely furnished. It also dawned on me that I was inside a limo, giving me quite a prideful thrill in my body. My eyes had looked out the window for a time, unsure of where we were, or where we were going. The limo would drive for some time before she said anything, leaving the two in the back trapped in an unsettling silence. "So," she finally chirped, swiveling her head to face my own, "Give me your bag." That was it, an order, no hello, no questions about my day, just an unrefusable command and a dainty hand thrust in my direction.
My eyes looked down at her hand, then up to at her eye. What would she do with it? I wormed it off my back and handed it to her. Normally I would speak up and say no, but I was in her own vehicle, plus I could've sworn that driver had locked the doors. The vixen snatched the bag away when my hand presented it to her. She swiftly yanked the zipper away and turned it upside down, dumping all my books, pencils, and other junk onto the floor. My eyebrows raised and was about to protest when a cold hard look made me silent again. Damn she was good at that. All of my things were on the floor, prompting me to give it a cleaning when she wasn't around. It was somewhat unsettling, also making me a little angry when all of my things were on the floor, dumped out carelessly. It made me want to rise up, tell her "No!", and leave. Then go to the cops and have'em busted.
But the idea poofed when she produced a package. Whatever it was, was left to imagination. It was a cardboard box. Nothing special about it. Just a plain cardboard box. Then she dropped it into my bag and started to put everything she had dumped out into my bag. "When you get home, boy, you are to take that package out of your bag and hide it. Do you understand? You are not to touch it until then, and you will most definitely not open it," she belted out once again, not giving me the chance to voice an opinion - I probably didn't have one anyway. My mouth opened regardless, ready to protest when a calculated finger pressed itself against my nose. "Don't speak," she quickly snapped, "We'll be arriving at someplace special very soon." That promptly caused me to look outside, wondering where the heck we were, and where the heck we were going. My eyes darted around, trying to find some sign, or landmark I recognized. Not a single one. I sat back down on the seat with a sigh, holding my bag against my form quietly.
The limo came to a slow and steady stop, prompting me to look out the window. I saw just a bunch of old buildings dotting either side of the street followed by a vast emptiness on another side. "Follow me boy, and keep your eyes to yourself." She warned before opening the door and stepping outside. The smell of rotting wood, the sea, and salt air hit my nose promptly but I had little time to look around, maybe a place where I could run too and call the cops. If memory served well, we were on the harbor, or close to it, about a 20 minute drive from my home. I gripped my backpack and stepped out as well, following her. I minded her instructions to the letter, following her and looking straight ahead at her back, falling behind a few steps. We approached a door, which was opened promptly followed by us going down a pair of stairs, then another. "I understand boy, that you must have many questions," She began clearing the air of the silence as we continued another set of stairs, "but I will answer only one question and one question only." Right on queue we had approached a metal door, much like the one Davidson talked through to me yesterday. I felt a sense of foreboding as she crossed her arms while leaning against the door, her eye upon me. "Well you little shit, what's your question?" I had quite a few questions but I could only ask one? I asked the only the most basic one. "Who are you?"
"I am Rouge, a Mafia Lord of this town and most of this area. That is all you need to know, boy. Now come, its time you paid off your debt." She banged on the door twice and pulled away from it quickly, turning around. "Its me, open up." She called. The door opened automatically. A rat came into view looking over her shoulder down at me, "Who's the kid?" "Paying a debt, Anderson. He is not to be harmed. Understand?" The Male Rat was quick to nod, "Yes ma'am." The smell of cigars had finally hit my nose as I gripped my backpack a little harder while walking into the room behind her. We walked through tables filled with people playing cards like before. Rouge was walking the same way when she approached me yesterday. So calculated, so....precise. She approached a chair that looked slightly different from others, sitting down in it. My ears heard whispers, asking who I was or where I came from one even joked if I was lost. Davidson was at her side, as always. How'd he get down here so fast anyway?
"Alright boy. Let's get you to work." Rouge spoke up, eye upon me. "You see that bar? You're going to mix drinks and my boys do like their drinks, dontcha boys?" Her head turned at the guys at the tables, each raising a shot glass and hooping and hollered. She pointed at the bar and said, "Hop to it. Make me a martini and don't screw up." I was shoved forward by someone behind me, catching myself with my feet as I made my way behind the bar, setting my backpack down behind it. She hadn't mentioned there was a recipe chart back here, probably didn't know either. I looked at the ingredients and looked around at all the labeled stuff. With a wine glass in my hand, set it atop the bar followed by grabbing the ingredients and mixed it in a shaker. With all the contents in the shaker, began to shake it. The whole time, Ms. Rouge was eyeing me, probably finding some fault in what I was doing. I shook for a moment or two before pouring the contents into the martini, followed by an olive spear (olive speared with a toothpick for those who didn't know). She took the glass and drank the whole thing, swirling it around in her mouth before swallowing. It was, probably, the first time I'd ever seen her smile. "Well boy, you surprise me. Perhaps there's hope for you yet. Mix a round for my boys here."
The one table I remember was the same Rat who greeted us at the door. He took a sip and reached into his pocket and gave me a $20. I blinked, asking what it was for. "Its for making a damn good drink kid, keep it up." A swelling of pride welled up inside of me. I wasn't so embarrassed anymore, or scared either. I noticed Rouge in the background watching me, probably watching me make a mistake or something. But she never spoke, and if this was what I had to do, then I would do it with a smile even if the thought of calling the cops on them still seemed like the right thing to do. It felt good doing this, and I don't know why. By the end of the day, at least by the clocks time, Davidson had approached me from behind as I was collecting empty glasses. "Alright kid, that was a good first day for you. I'm glad you didn't stay in that shell for long, but its time to go and your parents might get worried sick." I just nodded, pocketing $120 in tips I had made over the day.
We got into the limo and he continued to speak, giving me more detailed instructions of my duties and also telling me that the boss would probably request other drinks and I would be required to know them on the fly. I asked him only one question while I was in the limo. "How do you know I won't go to the cops?" I saw Davidson smirk on the rear view mirror. "'Cause kid, you wouldn't do it after today. Also, you forgot your bag, its in the trunk." The limo came to a stop as he finished. I opened the door and stepped outside, getting my backpack from the trunk then approached Davidson at the front, "Don't forget that package kid, keep it hidden and keep it safe. And remember that you don't open it, okay?" I just nodded my head before he drove off and went into my home. My Dad was home, but my Mom wasn't. She always worked late on Wednesdays. I walked up to my room as my Dad was coming out of the bathroom, "Whoa, hey son. Didn't hear ya come in? Have a good time at your friends....do I smell cigar smoke?" I just nodded, "Uhm....yeah. My friends dad had a party, sorta over at his place." It was all he needed to carry on before I went into my room, opening my bag and looking at the package.
It was a pretty ordinary package. Like before, it just seemed....plain. I shook it a few times, feeling something heavy shift around somewhat. What was in this thing anyway? And where would I hide ? Remember that I'm just 13 years old, and well, not very imaginative on where exactly to put it. But this obviously needed to be hidden, whatever it was. Closet? Nah, too obvious. Bed? Still too obvious. Drawers? Hmm....no. That pretty much cleared out my whole room. My eyes darted around again, just curious where the hell I could put it. An idea popped in my head as I looked for a few things I meant to put up in the attic. Didn't seem suspicious, and I could keep it safe and hidden from everyone. I poked at my Dad who was down stairs to open the attic, and then brought a few things I had, plus the package, and sat them into a corner. As I held the package in my hand, the tickling thought of opening it came to mind. No one would see me, I thought. No one would know, ....until after they saw it. Maybe just a peek? I knew it would bother me unless I got a look inside, or at least a peek, but how could I do that?
But I feel the rest of this story is best to be saved for another time.
Why?
'Cause its closing time.