Trapped in his End Game (Series)

The check from Vince burns my eyeballs.

Twenty thousand dollars.

I’ve been staring at it all day.

“What are you doing?” Maria stoops over my chair and makes a little gasp. “Wow.”

“I told him not to,” I say in a weak voice.

Standing up, I walk away from the check, the numbers still burning holes in my mind.

“Why?” she asks in an incredulous voice. “You need the money.”

“I don’t want to owe him anything.”

“Oh,” she says. “Yeah, don’t they, like, beat you if you don’t pay up, or something?”

I roll my eyes at her. “He’s not like that. He doesn’t even want me to pay him back. I just don’t want to be like my mom, leeching off everyone with money.”

She still calls me, begging me for money every chance she gets. I ignore her and pay her credit card’s monthly bill. It pisses me off, but what choice do I have? I don’t want her to go to jail.

With Vince and Nicky’s card games every week, I can afford it. Classes have already started and I’m struggling with juggling everything: Calculus, Advanced Statistics, Sociology, and American History. I’ve a full plate and my weekends are normally spent studying. I’m so tired that I can barely think.

“I’m going to drop a few classes. That way I won’t have to take so much from him. Want to go to a cafe? I’m tired of sitting in here.”

I cram my books in my backpack, stuffing my vibrating phone inside as well.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

“Yeah, I’ll come with you.” Maria bends down to pick up her Coach tote bag, which carries all her books. “It’s really nice of him to pay your tuition. Maybe he isn’t so bad.”

It’s overcast outside, but still warm enough to wear a t-shirt so I leave without a jacket. The straps dig into my shoulders as I descend the staircase, heading in the direction of Central Park.

The cafe is a quaint little place, thick with college students. I find a seat while Maria orders two coffees. I set my backpack on the ground with a small groan and rub my shoulders.

Maria balances two coffees on ceramic plates as she weaves in and out of tables. She drops it down on the marble table.

“Thanks.”

“I ordered some pastries, too.”

Goddamn her.

“You didn’t have to do that!” I already feel guilty enough, but Maria gives me a small shrug.

“It’s no big deal. Relax.”

My eyes widen as the staff begin delivering the pastries she ordered. A German onion bread, Hungarian rolls with poppy seeds, cabbage pirogs, little crescent shaped pastries filled with apricot jam.

“Did you buy one of everything?”

Maria shrugs again. “I felt like splurging. My mom always told me that my eyes were bigger than my stomach.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Your ass will be bigger if you eat all of that.”

She flings a flake of pasty at my head.

Eager to try everything, we forget our studies and divide all the pastries, trying bites of each one. I’m having a lot more fun than I’ve had in a long time. A man bumps into our table.

“Oops, sorry hun.”

Something in his voice makes my head jerk up.

A beefy looking man with slicked back hair, wearing a leather jacket stands in front of our table.

“Hey, you’re Cesare’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

My stomach boils as he looks down at me with a predatory smile. “Yes.”

His eyes narrow and he stoops down, blocking Maria as he towers over me. This man, whoever he is, is in my space. My chair scrapes as I push back, and his finger flicks over my mouth.

What the fuck?

“You have some cream on your face, sweetie. I’d like to add to it.”

I suck in my breath as several emotions blast through me in quick succession: rage, disgust, and fear.

“What do you want?”

His voice lowers into a growl. “You tell Vinny I came here. That he better stay in line, or some other fat fuck might shove their cock right up your ass.”

My hand grips my coffee mug and I’m close to throwing it in his face. He laughs and straightens himself, tugging his jacket around him.

Maria’s white face stares at me as he brushes past and leaves.

“Adriana, what the fuck was that?”

A sick feeling grips my guts and I suddenly feel like sprinting to the bathroom to vomit. “I-I’m going to go!”

“No, what if he’s waiting out there?” She grabs my arm.

“I need to get out of here.”

Grabbing my backpack, I leave a bewildered Maria behind and burst outside.

He just threatened to rape me.

I run as fast as I can in the other direction as I try to find somewhere-anywhere, to hide. My legs scream as I sprint across the street, a car screeching to a halt in front of me. I dive into the stairwell leading into the metro. The machine eats my MetroCard and I sprint into the first train taking me downtown.

The train is filled with Columbia students heading downtown for a drink. The doors hiss shut.

I collapse into a plastic chair, my heart still digging into my chest like a jackhammer. Leaving after a few stops, I vault up the stairs, no longer feeling safe in the metro. I feel like a sitting duck in that cave. Who was he?

I can see his face perfectly in my mind. Whoever he was, he didn’t care if I could recognize him. He knew I wouldn’t go the cops. Would I?

Never have I felt so violated in my life. For a second, I imagine him pinning me against the wall, stripping my clothes. It’s like I’m ten years old again. I crumple in the stairwell, sobbing.

“Hey, are you all right?”

I shake my head, ignoring the people who stop on their way down. I need to hide, but nowhere is safe. Safety. What a fucking joke.

Getting out of the subway is hard, but I feel safer in a crowd. What should I do? Should I stay still or keep walking? He could still be following me. Every face walking towards me could be a rapist. Around the corner is a scaffolding sidewalk and I freeze. I don’t know where to go.

Vincent.

He’ll keep me safe. I’m only a few blocks away. Walking down the street, I take out my phone and see a hundred phone calls and texts from Maria.

I’m safe. Are you OK?

Where are you?

CALL ME BACK.

I text her back: I’m OK. I went on the subway.

She responds almost immediately: Text me when you leave.

My breath catches in my throat as I read her text. I’m gasping as I enter his apartment building, waiting until there’s an empty elevator. I run inside one and mash the button. There are other people coming.

God, my chest. It hurts.

The doors shut and I mash the 12th floor. His apartment is right down the hall, but my heart rebels in my chest. I slam my fist on his door.

Hurry up. Please hurry. Please be here.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Open the door!”

Vince rips open the door. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a tank top. “You don’t have to beat down my door, you know.” He grabs my white, shaking face and his voice turns. “What’s wrong?”

My head buries into his chest as I nearly tackle him trying to get into the apartment. I turn around in his arms and then I slam the door shut, my hands shaking as I lock it.

“Jesus, what happened?”

I slump against the door as Vince’s whitened face stares at me in alarm. “A man came in the cafe. He said I had cream on my face and that he wanted to add to it.”

“What?” he says in a deadly voice. “He said what?”

“He knew who I was, Vince. He knew I was your girlfriend and he wanted me to tell you that he came to see me. That if you didn’t back down, he would shove his cock up my ass.”

Somehow, I’m unable to look at him. Tears drop on the floor as I curl my arms around myself. He bends down and takes me in his arms. He digs his fingers into my scalp and my lungs feel like they’re going to burst. One arm holds me as the other holds a cell phone.

I’m safe.