Taken and Misused.

[Stephen’s Point Of View]

I sat in my townhouse, smoking a cigarette out on the balcony of it and watching the people pass under me on the sidewalk. Business men, delivery people, a woman walking her dog, all these people leading nice, normal lives. They had no clue how good they had it, how wonderful their normal lives were, how jealous I was of them. I crushed my cigarette into the small ash tray on a little table I had out on the balcony. My breath made small puffs of white clouds without the help of my smoking habit. Winter was coming and the cold bite of it on my exposed chest felt good. The weather man said it was supposed to snow lightly but it would melt before it had the chance to touch the ground. I had woken up and so far all I’ve done was sit on the balcony and smoke cigarettes and watch people. And think of course.

I kept drifting back to how much I dreaded the gala event for my father’s new “business partner.” In all truthfulness my father had intimidated, threatened, kidnapped, and tortured the man until he agreed to give my father half of his business. So I wouldn’t call it a partnership but no one dared question his tactics, reasons, anything. If my father did it, it was alright. And if you questioned him or violated his rules, well, you wouldn’t stay alive very long. I was disgusted to be involved in celebrating his handiwork. But no one ever turned down an invitation to a party from my father. For some reason I could not understand everyone wanted to be a part of his screwed up life. I deduced it was probably the money my father had, his fame in the underworld of New York, or maybe it was the fact that becoming friend with my father made your chances of getting killed by him a lot smaller.

I walked back into the living room of my home and stretched my arms up, cracking my back then slipping my nearly empty pack of smokes into the pocket of my pajama pants. Once again, my morning has not been very productive. I opened my fridge to find something to eat since my stomach was protesting the lack of a breakfast. All I was running on was cigarette smoke and a shot of vodka.

A soft click alerted me that someone was trying to quietly open my front door. I reached for one of the butcher knives slipped into their wooden slots on the counter. I slid it out and stepped around the corner that separated the kitchen and living room. Standing in front of the front door was Aleksander, I sighed, glaring at the man and lowering the knife I had raised. He just stood there with that damn grin on his face.

“What’s with the paranoia Stephen?” Aleksander asked, following me into the kitchen where I returned the knife to its proper place. “Daddy’s warning got you nervous?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but as usual he didn’t acknowledge my annoyance. “If you were me, wouldn’t you get nervous about someone trying to sneak into your home?” I retorted, deciding I’d just have coffee. Aleksander always made me lose my appetite, thinking about what he did for my father, how many times he had gotten his hands bloody for him. I didn’t like housing a killer.

“If I were you I would use the power that being his son comes with, you don’t even try to get involved in the business Stephen, all you want to do is be a ballerina. It’s disappointing” Aleksander said, taking an apple from my fridge and biting into it. He grinned at me, Aleksander always teased me about taking dance so seriously.

“At least I know my karma is a hell of a lot better than yours” I retorted, taking a long drink of my black coffee. “What’s disappointing is you always coming to me for help when you can’t finish one of your missions on your own, and you’d rather come to me than ask my father for more help” I added, knowing that he only came here when he needed help. Last time he had visited me it was so I could act as a distraction while he broke into a private air travel business and steal their flight plans to see what and where they were shipping their merchandise. I had been late to dance practice because of that, Elisabeth hadn’t let me off the hook for it the whole practice.

Aleksander immediately looked like the tough guy who’d just gotten insulted, chest puffed out, eyes narrowed. The whole nine yards as they say it. “I’m not afraid of your father” he muttered. I looked at him with wide eyes, a grin on my lips as I cocked up an eyebrow.

“How about I tell him how fearless you are? He’s coming over for dinner tonight you know” I said, taking another drink of my coffee. I leaned against the counter and watched Aleksander prepare to eat his words.

“You’re really going to play the ‘I’ll tell daddy’ card?” Aleksander snorted, but I could tell it made him nervous.

“If it will get you out of my hair, yes” I answered, crossing my arms over my bare chest. I glanced at Aleksander’s suit jacket and noticed two very unnoticeable bulges where his guns hung in their holsters. The man was always armed.

“Well I didn’t come here for your help, I came here to tell you that I heard your dad talking about whether you can be trusted to be at the gala event tomorrow night and I was wondering why they’d be talking about that?” Aleksander asked, leaning forward like an eager gossiper ready to get the rest of the story. I breathed a soft laugh at his question.

“Do you always eavesdrop on my father?”

“Only after they let someone they were planning to kill go.”

My dark brown eyes snapped to him, confusion and surprise swimming in them. It was rare that anyone that was taken into his office with a death sentence ever got out unscathed. “Do you know who it was?” I asked, and I saw Aleksander’s eyes light up like a kid who had just gotten his parents to take him to the candy store. He had dropped a piece of bait in front of me and I had taken it just like that.

“Someone you knew in Las Vegas, Michael told me his name is Vaughn Hart” he said, Michael was someone who worked for my father, but that didn’t catch my attention. I groaned and slumped against the kitchen counter, one of my hands sitting palm down on the granite top and the other tugging through my dark hair. Vaughn had gotten himself in trouble. Again. Thank God it wasn’t to the same boss, but if the one in Las Vegas got wind of this trouble and told my dad Vaughn wouldn’t have the chance to pack up his buddies and make a break for it.

I muttered a curse word under my breath, “so they think that because me and Vaughn attended the same dance school in Las Vegas that I’ll try to protect him? And why would they worry about me at the gala event? I’ve agreed to be the perfect son” I said, letting a humorless chuckle slip from my lips at the last words.

“That’s what I came to ask you” Aleksander said, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re such a wonderful eavesdropper Alek” I muttered, pulling out my cigarettes again. This news update had gotten my stress level soaring. Not just because a deep part of me respected Vaughn. A very, very deep part. But also because he was always with Elisabeth, he would always pick her up after practice, drop her off before, I’d even overheard her talking to her new dance friend Tabytha about Vaughn’s dog. It sounded like the two were very obviously together even though when I asked, Elisabeth had vehemently corrected me. But to someone like my father I knew he would see a connection and he’d use it if Vaughn tried to run. I swore again, making Aleksander tilt his head in curiosity.

“They stopped talking about it after that, don’t blame me” he reasoned, holding his hands up with his palms facing me.

“This doesn’t make any sense” I muttered, more to myself than him. The tip of my cigarette lit up when I took a long drag off of it.