Blood Money
toi je ne t'oublierai pas
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
This is the first thing Ruby Ranson ever says to me as I gain consciousness for the second time that day. She is almost reprimanding me, as if I’m a child disobeying her. Go sit in time-out until you’re dead.
Two heads cover the blinding lights above me, and I squint my eyes, peering at them closely.
There’s a man; the one who spoke before I hit the ground. His skin is white as a sheet and his hair is short and powdery. I think he’s albino. An abnormally shaped bump sits in between his light blue eyes, forming the bridge of his nose. I absentmindedly wonder if he got it broken in a fist fight.
“What’s wrong with your face?” is (regrettably) the first thing that comes out of my mouth like a raspy chain smoker.
This is a bad first impression on my part.
He glares at me angrily, obviously offended, and looks to his right at the second person within my line of vision. His deep voice breaks the air again.
“We should’ve killed her when we had the chance.”
This is when Ruby Ranson graces us with her presence, with her gorgeous, dark bronzed skin, black, demanding eyes, and short buzz cut platinum hair. She’s a dream. She looks like she could eat me alive. Immediately, I’m fascinated by her.
“Jasper, don’t be thick,” she scolds him, and then turns her gaze down to me again, clarifying, “For the record, we don’t kill people. We only deal with the recently deceased.”
This is enough information to confuse the hell out of me, but to add to my current state of paranoia, I suddenly realize I’m on the same metal table that that horrifying meat creature was lying on before. I shudder, rapidly sitting up and climbing off, brushing my hands all over my body as if I might have picked up some sort of dirtiness from just being in the same place as its disgusting body.
I look down, realizing they at least had the decency to cover up my nakedness. I’m adorning a mauve oversized, button-down men’s dress shirt. No pants.
“Sorry, it was the only thing Chu had in his closet,” she speaks again, walking around the table and crossing her arms, “You’d think for an experienced embalmer, he’d have a greater selection of clothes for his subjects, but I guess not.”
The perplexity only builds in my mind.
“I can see you’re confused,” she continues bemusedly, “Chu is a family friend of mine. We’re blackmailing him.”
“Ruby, stop encouraging her,” the man called Jasper rolls his eyes, “We shouldn’t be telling her this.”
As he reproaches her, I acquire the courage to get some answers from them.
“Who are you?” I question, trying to make sense out of all of this.
“Why, darlin’,” she grins impishly, suddenly changing her voice to sound like a sweet Southern belle, “I’m Gemma Bird, and this here is—”
“Her name is Ruby Ranson,” Jasper cuts her off, appearing as though he’s used to this routine, “Don’t listen to her.”
“Oh, Jas-pah Malachite,” she enunciates his name and turns to me, “He’s always talkin’ about this Ruby Ranson; Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, and I don’t have the slightest idea who she is, do you?”
None of this is helping me. If anything, I’m even more confused than before.
“What am I doing here?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Why, didn’t you hear me, darlin’?” This Gemma-Ruby, whatever her name is, saunters up to me, “You’re supposed to be dead.”
Anger and impatience flares up within me.
“What the fuck is going on?!” I shout, becoming irritated. Gemma-Ruby recoils, eyebrows arched in innocent surprise.
“My, my,” she backs away, giving a sly look to Jasper, “It seems we got a firecracker on our hands.”
Angry tears burn my eyes, threatening to spill out.
“I don’t even know who I am.”
My voice is thick with despondency. Ruby-Gemma watches me with pity and goes into a drawer, taking out a small stack of what appear to be driver’s licenses.
“Let’s see here,” she fingers through them, examining each one as she steps closer to me. She stops and stares at one in particular, cocking her head to the right, squinting at it as she holds it up, looking between me and whoever’s face is on the laminate ID.
“This one kinda looks like her, don’t it, Jaspah?” She asks her male counterpart, beckoning him over.
He scoffs, almost laughing. “Maybe in another thirty years.”
Ruby-Gemma gives him a disapproving look and flips the license around to show me the woman pictured: “Opal Cazmont”, apparently, from Louisiana, who has graying hair and was born in 1957. I’m taking Jasper’s side on this one.
Just the fact alone that they have no inkling of who I am is extremely disconcerting. I stare at the two of them incredulously, completely speechless in my crippling fear.
“See?” Gemma-Ruby turns back to Jasper, “She agrees with me.” She then looks back at the license and reads aloud, “Opal Cazmont. That’s who you are, dear.”
“How…the hell…” I growl, putting my foot down, “…did I get here?”
“Oh my, you’re just as dim as Jaspah, aren’t you?” Gemma-Ruby crosses her arms, shaking her head at me, “Darlin’, I’ve said it twice already. You’re supposed to be—”
“Dead,” I finish for her scathingly, “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Let me help you out,” Jasper thankfully cuts in, stepping towards me, “You were in a six car pileup on the highway. Everyone in it was killed. We thought you were dead, too.”
The immensity of this explanation hits me in full force, knocking the wind out of my body, but still, none of it rings a bell. I half expect the memory of the incident to come flooding back to me, but it doesn’t. My mind is still blank. I look down at the shiny, sterile floor, letting this news mull over in my mind. I almost feel like I would’ve been better off not knowing what happened now that the truth has set in.
“Guess she was just takin’ a nap,” Ruby-Gemma pipes up, seemingly unaffected by this information underneath her chirping Southern accent.
“Christ…” I mutter under my breath, “So, what? You were planning a funeral for me?”
The two share a mutual glance of secrecy, and I can’t help but detect a hint of a smirk on each of their faces. Jasper turns back to me, his deep voice glazed with shrewdness.
“Something like that.”
Ruby-Gemma is spacing out, staring right past me. I don’t know what to think of any of this. Suddenly, she shakes her head and blinks, looking between Jasper and I.
“Why, hello,” she greets me, appearing surprised that I’m standing before them. Her Southern accent has disappeared. “Welcome to the Red Market. We’re The Vultures. What’s your name?”
This is the first thing Ruby Ranson ever says to me as I gain consciousness for the second time that day. She is almost reprimanding me, as if I’m a child disobeying her. Go sit in time-out until you’re dead.
Two heads cover the blinding lights above me, and I squint my eyes, peering at them closely.
There’s a man; the one who spoke before I hit the ground. His skin is white as a sheet and his hair is short and powdery. I think he’s albino. An abnormally shaped bump sits in between his light blue eyes, forming the bridge of his nose. I absentmindedly wonder if he got it broken in a fist fight.
“What’s wrong with your face?” is (regrettably) the first thing that comes out of my mouth like a raspy chain smoker.
This is a bad first impression on my part.
He glares at me angrily, obviously offended, and looks to his right at the second person within my line of vision. His deep voice breaks the air again.
“We should’ve killed her when we had the chance.”
This is when Ruby Ranson graces us with her presence, with her gorgeous, dark bronzed skin, black, demanding eyes, and short buzz cut platinum hair. She’s a dream. She looks like she could eat me alive. Immediately, I’m fascinated by her.
“Jasper, don’t be thick,” she scolds him, and then turns her gaze down to me again, clarifying, “For the record, we don’t kill people. We only deal with the recently deceased.”
This is enough information to confuse the hell out of me, but to add to my current state of paranoia, I suddenly realize I’m on the same metal table that that horrifying meat creature was lying on before. I shudder, rapidly sitting up and climbing off, brushing my hands all over my body as if I might have picked up some sort of dirtiness from just being in the same place as its disgusting body.
I look down, realizing they at least had the decency to cover up my nakedness. I’m adorning a mauve oversized, button-down men’s dress shirt. No pants.
“Sorry, it was the only thing Chu had in his closet,” she speaks again, walking around the table and crossing her arms, “You’d think for an experienced embalmer, he’d have a greater selection of clothes for his subjects, but I guess not.”
The perplexity only builds in my mind.
“I can see you’re confused,” she continues bemusedly, “Chu is a family friend of mine. We’re blackmailing him.”
“Ruby, stop encouraging her,” the man called Jasper rolls his eyes, “We shouldn’t be telling her this.”
As he reproaches her, I acquire the courage to get some answers from them.
“Who are you?” I question, trying to make sense out of all of this.
“Why, darlin’,” she grins impishly, suddenly changing her voice to sound like a sweet Southern belle, “I’m Gemma Bird, and this here is—”
“Her name is Ruby Ranson,” Jasper cuts her off, appearing as though he’s used to this routine, “Don’t listen to her.”
“Oh, Jas-pah Malachite,” she enunciates his name and turns to me, “He’s always talkin’ about this Ruby Ranson; Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, and I don’t have the slightest idea who she is, do you?”
None of this is helping me. If anything, I’m even more confused than before.
“What am I doing here?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Why, didn’t you hear me, darlin’?” This Gemma-Ruby, whatever her name is, saunters up to me, “You’re supposed to be dead.”
Anger and impatience flares up within me.
“What the fuck is going on?!” I shout, becoming irritated. Gemma-Ruby recoils, eyebrows arched in innocent surprise.
“My, my,” she backs away, giving a sly look to Jasper, “It seems we got a firecracker on our hands.”
Angry tears burn my eyes, threatening to spill out.
“I don’t even know who I am.”
My voice is thick with despondency. Ruby-Gemma watches me with pity and goes into a drawer, taking out a small stack of what appear to be driver’s licenses.
“Let’s see here,” she fingers through them, examining each one as she steps closer to me. She stops and stares at one in particular, cocking her head to the right, squinting at it as she holds it up, looking between me and whoever’s face is on the laminate ID.
“This one kinda looks like her, don’t it, Jaspah?” She asks her male counterpart, beckoning him over.
He scoffs, almost laughing. “Maybe in another thirty years.”
Ruby-Gemma gives him a disapproving look and flips the license around to show me the woman pictured: “Opal Cazmont”, apparently, from Louisiana, who has graying hair and was born in 1957. I’m taking Jasper’s side on this one.
Just the fact alone that they have no inkling of who I am is extremely disconcerting. I stare at the two of them incredulously, completely speechless in my crippling fear.
“See?” Gemma-Ruby turns back to Jasper, “She agrees with me.” She then looks back at the license and reads aloud, “Opal Cazmont. That’s who you are, dear.”
“How…the hell…” I growl, putting my foot down, “…did I get here?”
“Oh my, you’re just as dim as Jaspah, aren’t you?” Gemma-Ruby crosses her arms, shaking her head at me, “Darlin’, I’ve said it twice already. You’re supposed to be—”
“Dead,” I finish for her scathingly, “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Let me help you out,” Jasper thankfully cuts in, stepping towards me, “You were in a six car pileup on the highway. Everyone in it was killed. We thought you were dead, too.”
The immensity of this explanation hits me in full force, knocking the wind out of my body, but still, none of it rings a bell. I half expect the memory of the incident to come flooding back to me, but it doesn’t. My mind is still blank. I look down at the shiny, sterile floor, letting this news mull over in my mind. I almost feel like I would’ve been better off not knowing what happened now that the truth has set in.
“Guess she was just takin’ a nap,” Ruby-Gemma pipes up, seemingly unaffected by this information underneath her chirping Southern accent.
“Christ…” I mutter under my breath, “So, what? You were planning a funeral for me?”
The two share a mutual glance of secrecy, and I can’t help but detect a hint of a smirk on each of their faces. Jasper turns back to me, his deep voice glazed with shrewdness.
“Something like that.”
Ruby-Gemma is spacing out, staring right past me. I don’t know what to think of any of this. Suddenly, she shakes her head and blinks, looking between Jasper and I.
“Why, hello,” she greets me, appearing surprised that I’m standing before them. Her Southern accent has disappeared. “Welcome to the Red Market. We’re The Vultures. What’s your name?”