Flight Ch. 01

When I had sat down for an interview with him, I had quietly told him that I couldn't give proof of anything. I just needed a job. He had looked at me with his fiery eyes and nodded. The next day I had a job and a small place to stay that sat on top of the bakery.

It had been more kindness than I had experienced in a long time and I tried to make up for it when I could.

I put a flat pan of dough in the large proofer and wiped my hands on my apron.

"Keep your unibrow on, Ricci," I called back, "If I don't finish this up, you won't have anything to bake in the morning!"

"That moron Ben will be here tomorrow morning, so it ain't looking like anything is going to get baked." Ricci said coming in the kitchen, a stained dish towel over his shoulder.

I shrugged, "I told you I would work the shift."

"Told me! I know what you told me but I ain't about to have BBB come down on me for abusing my workers. You would work non-stop if you could," He said yanking the used pans out of my hands and sticking them in the industrial dishwasher.

I couldn't help it. I hated having spare time. Spare time made me think too much. It made me brave and I could not afford to be brave.

"Yeah, well, I like to eat Ricci."

He made a sound like he didn't believe me, and I could see that he wanted to press. I had only told him what he needed to know, and I think Ricci had a history with secrets. I had been here almost two years and there had been retired mafia rumors.

It had made me laugh. Ricci the mafia boss turned pastry baker.

Despite Ricci's grumbling about me going home, I helped him clean up. When I got my stuff out of my locker I saw my phone was blinking. I checked it and saw that Alma had texted me thirty-two times and I didn't wait to scroll through them.

I said goodbye to Ricci and walked to the side of the building and up the enclosed stairwell that led to my apartment. I had found out that Ricci was undercharging me rent for the area. I had tried to talk to him about it, but he would wave me off in an Italian fit every time.

"What do you think my ma would say to me overcharging a lady in trouble? What? Do I look like a heartless jerk? Now, turn around and get your bony ass back in the kitchen, those crepes aren't going to make themselves."

There was no sense in trying to argue with him. It would save me a headache.

My apartment had exposed walls and large windows that I'd become obsessed with. It brought in a soft light that I couldn't get enough of. I was cold all the time and sometimes, when the sun was filtering in, I would sit in front of those three large windows like I was asking for forgiveness from a higher power.

The apartment wasn't much when I first got there but now as I slowly found myself again, it took on life. There were plants everywhere that reminded me of lost friends. My clutter consisted of books, neon post-it notes, and ugly throw blankets Ricci's half-blind Aunt kept knitting for me.

It was something I had finally thawed enough to love.

I grabbed a glass that labeled me 'wine queen', popped open a bottle of white wine, and shivered at the soft sounds of it gathering in the glass.

Alma thought I loved the fire of wine because I was so cold. It was an in depth assessment that I couldn't disagree with. It did bother me because I hadn't always been like this.

I picked up the bottle and poured myself more, my face already heating from drinking the first glass so fast. I walked into the bathroom and stripped out of my clothes, jumping into the shower. I turned the hot water as far as I could stand and scrubbed away the sweat and smell of flour from my skin.

The wine coupled with the steam was supposed to make me relax. To shake off the stress of smiling when I didn't want to, kneading and baking and glazing until my fingers ached. Just to relax. I didn't want to feel the dull arousal I felt between my legs.

Sometimes this would happen, no matter how much I ran myself into the ground.

I could turn on the cold water or go for a jog. I wasn't supposed to address it...that was the rule. I didn't have permission.

"Oh, for fuck sake, Mina!" I bit out wanting to punch the tiled wall.

What was I thinking? I was not there anymore. Not under anyone's scrutiny, not held accountable. I didn't have to ask him for anything. He didn't own me anymore.

I sat in the tub, the water from the shower pouring on me like fiery rain. I could do this because I owned my body and I could do whatever I wanted with it. I settled my hands on my breasts because that was the safest option. I hadn't touched myself to gain any type of self-gratification in so long. Not since I took flight.

I took my time squeezing the mounds, pinching my nipples between my fingers. The sharp pain made my breath deepen and made my arousal more demanding. I rested my hands on my stomach afraid to go lower and stupidly, I found myself looking around the room...scared that I'd get caught.

But I knew better. I parted my legs, hooking one over the edge of the bathtub, shivering as the warm water ran along my pussy. Slowly, moving my hand down, I hovered over my heat, willing myself to remember how it felt.

"He's not here, Mina." I whispered placing my fingers on the pink skin.

God, I was wet. The cream of me was slicker and thicker than the water from the shower. It was seductive and felt new. I made lazy circles, liking the sloppiness of rediscovery. My fingers brushed over my clit, swollen and sensitive and it felt so good I did it again. I massaged it gently, enjoying the pressure that made me arch my back. My hole twitched wanting to be filled and it should have been nothing to work a finger inside and thrust myself to orgasm.

But I couldn't. It would be...too much.

Instead I worked my clit faster, grinding against it in abuse. I could feel the orgasm building up but not wanting to give me what I wanted. I pushed my foot against the tub trying to move my body in any way to cum.

My hand worked my clit, moving fast, making squelching noises from my juices. It didn't matter, the orgasm wouldn't come. Wouldn't put me out of my misery.

So, I did something I would hate myself for.

I imagined his liquid black eyes watching me like a god. He would be pleased that I opened myself up for him, letting him see the pleasure that he would tell me belonged to him. He might even rest his hand on my inner thigh wanting to feel the orgasm through my skin and bones.

When I came, I couldn't keep myself from making noise. The pulsing of my pussy contracting was intense and familiar and hostile, and I needed to hear it in the air. I moved my hips with each wave, wishing that my pussy was full, sucking something off.

And then it plateaued off, taking the confidence with it. The water was getting cooler and I let guilt and shame layer over my skin like a cool mist. I kicked in the handle, shutting off the water and got out of the tub. I didn't look at myself in the mirror.

I plucked a white towel that had become scratchy from my dryer and pulled it close around me.

Sitting down on my bed, I couldn't move. How could I do that? How could I use his face?

There had been plenty of cute and even beautiful guys I had seen that I could have used.

Laying down my bed, I didn't bother getting dress or covering up. The cold was punishment. There were always punishments for not doing what I was supposed to do.

*****

I woke up to low voices in Alma's living room. For a moment, I regretted taking asylum in her apartment. I had fled after my little 'masturbation fest' that involved my former...master.

I didn't remember her saying that she had anyone coming over. I looked at the clock on her bedside table and saw that it was almost two in the afternoon. Alma had kept me up with her emotional ups and downs. I hadn't minded though. I didn't want to be in my apartment by myself. I couldn't make good decisions.

Ben had texted me asking me if he could crash in my apartment because Ricci was on his ass about not showing up on time. He figured if he could stumble down the stairs, he had a slight chance of making it to his shift this morning. It was hard for me to tell Ben no because of his boyish demeanor and misfortune of summoning Ricci's wrath. He had sent me a picture of him in my robe which had made me laugh and Alma suspicious.

I slipped on her house shoes and as I walked into her living room, I felt a brush of air and saw the back of her walking out the front door.

"Alma—" I called but she didn't turn around.

"She's going to be right back." A low voice said from the couch. I froze.

Derrick was sprawled out as if he lived there and he looked ten times cleaner than the last time I saw him.

I swallowed and hugged my arms to me, "Why are you here?"

Derrick shrugged. I walked into the galley kitchen and turned on the coffee maker. It was probably too late for coffee but after living with rules and schedules I wanted to do whatever I wanted.

"Mina?" He said making me jump, "I need to talk to you."

"Why? If it's something Alma has done, I'm not interested."

He came up beside me taking the filter out of my hands and putting it into the holder.

"I'm out of the dealer shit." He said quietly, and I felt surprise.

"That's.... great I guess."

"Yeah, um, I had to help take care of my siblings."

There was always a reason. Usually tragic, usually there wasn't a good ending. It was prison or death. Except for the lucky ones or the ones too immortal to be caught.

Derrick took a deep breath and shook his head as he poured the water in. When he finished he said something to himself under his breath and looked at me.

"I'm really not a good person, Mina, but there is nothing I wouldn't do for those little guys. They need me."

I felt uneasy and I took a step back, "I get that, Derrick. Shit happens."

His blue eyes were glossy, "No. You don't. I'm sorry, Mina."

"For what?"

He looked away from me, "I told him...I told him where you were."

The sound in my ears dropped, "What?" I whispered but I heard him the first time...prayed I hadn't.

"That tattoo, I'd seen it stamped on some stuff I'd gotten. There had been some whispers about you...but --"

"But nothing!" I screamed at him, my whole body shaking.

"I'm sorry—" he tried to say but I was backing away. He gave me back...

"You sold me out! I've never done anything to you, Derrick! You have no idea what you've done!" I turned away, racing to find my things. I had to get out of here, I had to get out of this town. If God was listening to me, he would give me a head start.

My hands shook violently as I tried to throw clothes and my charger back into my bag.

"They seemed happy to have you back, Mina. I don't think you're in trouble for anything." He tried to reason. But we both knew how wrong it was. There was never a good reason for a drug cartel to be happy to get someone back. Derrick probably assumed that they were going to kill me. But my life for his brothers was a trade he'd clearly been willing to trade.

I spun on him, my anger making me hazy, "They would be, you idiot!"

"Mina, how did you get caught up with this shit? Were you a dealer?"

"No," I said standing up, not able to find my wallet, "I was a fuck toy."

Derrick flinched and I rushed him, "That's right. He plucked me out of my life and made me into a thing."

I spotted my wallet on the table by the door and scooped it up on my way out.

"But Mina, wait!"

I didn't listen to him. I flew out into the afternoon. It was clogging my lungs, suffocating me. I had liked my life here. It had been hard and inconvenient but it had been mine. I didn't live to please him, to melt into that life and not exist outside of him.

He had only come close to catching me once, but I had barely escaped through the kindness of a stranger. I could get away again...I could. I should have never been at Derrick's. It was a world that skimmed too close.

I got onto the block of my apartment and stayed to the shadows. Derrick hadn't mentioned when he had alerted him and for all I knew he could have decided that he didn't want me anymore.

I thought about my frame of mind when I escaped him and knew I was telling myself a lie.

I looked around the streets of the bakery, but I didn't see anything that I didn't see on a normal day. Ricci's signs in his windows were still crooked, Mr. Thompson's broken RAV4 was still leaking old oil onto the pavement, but it was silent because people were at work.

No monster's that I could see.

That didn't really make me feel better. Nothing would until I got out of town. I felt a sharp pain in my chest but I would not grieve until I was long gone.

I ran up the steps to my apartment, my heart pounding in my ears. I put the key in the door and when I opened it, I let out a breath.

Everything was gone.

My plants, my post-it's, my everything was gone. My apartment had been stripped back to the way it was.

I stepped in further, the shock of it breaking my heart. I had tried so hard and I loved this old place.

The smell of household cleaner was sharp.

"Mina." A voice came from the hallway, leading to my bedroom and I watched as a figure from my past stepped into the living room.

"You can't be here." My voice shook.

"Mina, it's time to come home."