Tarantino's Son

Evanescence

In the mere dawn, I walked back to Caine's apartment. My head was drawn low to the cobblestones, tucked underneath my hoodie as I pulled it tight around me. The streets were silent, the produce vendors not yet arrived and the drunks still lounging in the bars clutching their deep bottles of perpetual gin. Through the ajar windows, I watched them silently as I passed by, though careful not to catch their vacant gazes. Bedraggled and pale, they reminded me of ghosts, men who had long ago surrendered their own fates. I shivered, ducking into an alley. My lungs felt tight and hollow as I fell back against the brick, closing my eyes. Wild black hair falling back against hollow cheekbones, his lips rough against mine pushing me deeper and deeper beneath him. I blinked, my lips gasping for air as I scraped the brick layers with my nails. Mikhail. I slid down the brick, my body landing in a clump as I brought my knees to my stomach.

The alley stunk of rotten fish mixed with the faint tinge of whiskey and I hurriedly gulped back the vomit that threatened to coat my lips. My hands trembled beneath my knees, desperate for a cigarette to calm my nerves. I needed one, bad. But I had none left. Not even one. I closed my eyes again as exhaustion crept over me, yet opened them again as another image of Mikhail relentlessly flitted across my vision. His hands softly inking circles around my shoulder as searing lips left blistering imprints up and down my collarbones. Gingerly I sat up, grasping the brick wall for balance as I pushed Mikhail out of my head. I needed to forget about him, I already regretted last night, why was I punishing myself for thinking about him? Slowly I eased myself up off the wall, feeling the soreness in my legs as I trudged towards Caine's apartment.

Finally after reaching his apartment through a series of long alleys, I now stood at his door with mixed feelings. I could imagine his tense expression, his chartreuse eyes apprehensive and worried as though I might disappear before his very eyes. I tapped my foot against the door nervously. He had always been the worrier even when we were kids, on the nights when I would come home hours past curfew and I had to sneak through his window in order for the guards not to hear me. He would lecture me outlining the dangers had I been kidnapped, raped, or shot in a drive by shooting. We both knew Cali was dangerous at night, I had my fair share of taboo encounters but Dante's influence had protected us, though more than once had also highlighted us as potential targets for his enemies. Six months before I had turned sixteen a turf war broke out between Los Sangres and Nieuta, the biggest heroin cartel in Medellin. For weeks we hadn't been allowed to leave the compound, locked in our rooms side by side, flanked by armed guards. Yet after three weeks of confinement, one night I couldn't resist any longer and had snuck out through my window into the veiled courtyard and over the fence. Vines had entangled the fence obscuring the guard's vision as he made his rounds barely missing me as I crouched a mere three feet away.

I met Andos at the old farm house, a fifteen minute walk away from the farm house. He was Caine's friend and his dad worked for Dante. He was only a few years older with coiffed blonde hair and brandy eyes. Despite his good looks, he was notoriously famous for always having something in his system whether it be weed, whiskey which he specifically favoured above all, or painkillers. I had never minded, he wasn't himself without the affect of it all or rather them all, as he was usually simultaneously intoxicated by all three. That night he had brought a bottle of distastefully bitter Pinot gris and we had taken turns drinking out of it, divulging the details of our shitty week. After, we fooled around a bit sneaking kisses in the loft and eventually succumbing to drunken slumbers. I had woken up a few hours later before daybreak, and after picking up my clothes had snuck back to the compound. Caine had a fit when he discovered me sneaking back through his window at 4am threatening to tell Dante, which of course he hadn't or else I probably would be dead or rather locked in a jail cell somewhere below ground.

I bit my lip, still tapping my foot against the door nervously. Gathering all my strength and integrity, I knocked on the door.

I had barely removed my knuckle before the door slammed open--revealing a very wet Caine with only a towel tied around his waist. I gulped, taking in his furious expression.

"Where the hell were you? I was worried!" His blue eyes narrowed as they took in my disheveled demeanour. I could tell by his expression what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry, I uh--." The espresso machine squealed in the background.

"Sorry means shit, you tell me where you're going next time." He said, his face a mounting storm as he hurried to turn off the stove.

My face turned to stone as I clutched the doorknob. "Since when are you my father Caine, I can go wherever the hell I want to and I certainly don't you to keep tabs on me all the time. I've been fucking taking care of myself since I was twelve years old!"

"Your father? Are you so oblivious to the fact that people actually care what happens to you Lana?" His hand shook as he poured the coffee." That we actually fucking care if one night you don't come home." He cursed under his breath as a sliver of brown liquid hit his bare chest. "Fuck."

"You know what." He said, his back to me. I could see the ridges of his tan muscles as he hovered over the espresso cups. "Forget I asked, forget I fucking cared."

I bit my lip, holding back the accusations that threatened to consume me. Fuck you Caine, I wanted to yell but I held it back on the account of that a) the argument would go nowhere and b) there was no way in hell that I was wining it.

I stepped into the kitchen where he was busy putting bread in the toaster. I wrapped my arms around his torso burying my face against his bare back. He smelled faintly like sandalwood and clean soap.

"I couldn't sleep last night." I whispered as everything came rushing back to me. Caine tensed then suddenly I could feel his expression softening.

"Where were you?" He asked quietly.

"Out and around, just wandering a bit." I lied. "I needed to clear my head."

He nodded silently, hastily accepting my half hearted apology despite my appearance.

His eyes fell to the cordless lying facedown on the counter and suddenly went wide eyed.

"Shit right, Dante called just to check in, you know. He's in Neiva doing some business."

My arms fell from his torso. "Ya and what did you two talk about?"

He turned back to the counter refusing to meet my eyes. "I might have mentioned Tarantino."

The toaster beeped in the background, inducing a cloud of smoke in it's wake. The toasts surely now resembled gravel pancakes.

"Why the hell would you do that? We don't need his help, I'm going after Tarantino myself."

"Why are you so bloody naïve? It's as if you think you can just walk in there, no Dante's been on his estate. It's about two hours away from here , through I could probably get you there one. But it's patrolled, all twenty acres of it by trained soldiers carrying Berettas. It would be miraculous if you even got in the place let alone find Tarantino. The estate's huge, Dante said there's probably about five floors and not to mention some kind of wine warehouse in the back though I doubt it's a wine warehouse considering he's the biggest coca field cultivator in the country. There's only one way Dante thinks we can get in there."

"Which is?"

"We have to drive on some back road, bit of some bush there not exactly ideal road conditions but it'll get us past most of the guerillas patrolling the place. On that side it's a bit of a rocky region there, think mountains, lots of bush, probably a lot of snakes which I'm not too crazy about. Dante says at the edge of the south ide of the property its a bit rundown, meaning that our boy Tarantino is desperately in need of a new electric fence. Lucky for us he hasn't had the time to install it yet, which will give us our gateway in."

I popped a piece of burnt in my mouth. "So what time do we leave?"

"At eight so we'll be ready when the guards change their posts at eleven."