Tommy

Prologue

"Are you ready to order?"

Cynthia teased her long, tan fingers through soft, thick, vermillion curls, biting her parted lips, each painted a seductive red. From beneath heavy, mascara layered lashes; she meticulously scrutinized the open space of the restaurant, her intermediary setting giving her an advantage. Her attempts were proven barren when she helplessly realized she was not sure what she was looking for. Pulling on the hem of the ivory, lace dress for the nth time she sighed and turned to the waiter with a small closed lip smile. "I am afraid not as my company has yet to arrive, though I could use a glass of red wine, perhaps Cabernet Sauvignon." "Yes, right away." The waiter answered with a nod of his head.

While she awaited the waiter's return with her drink, a man who looked to be in his late twenties was fast approaching her table with an apologetic grin on his face. Dressed in a midnight blue suit and his brunet hair slicked back, he was effortlessly becoming the cynosure of the restaurant with his comeliness and undeniable allure. Standing before her, a vision of unadulterated beauty he bowed to take her hand and tenderly kissed her palm; his lips, slightly rough, ever slowly left her skin as he stood upright taking a seat in front of her. Lips, which were just on her warming skin, parted. "Did I keep you waiting long, Ms. Black?" Shaking her head in negation, she turned to the waiter who set a wine glass before her and poured a bit, taking a sip, she nodded as he continued to pour more in her glass. "Cabernet?" He asked, but before she could answer he was already mentioning for the waiter to serve him some. "Indeed, it's my favorite." She answered.

"You must be wondering why I called for you precipitously, Ms. Black."

"Cynthia, you can call me Cynthia, and I cannot say it hasn't been on my mind."

"Well Ms. Black," he paused, swirling his wine round the glass circumspect about spilling, then he took a long sip. "I am aware that you have applied for an internship at our faculty and have been rejected, correct?" She simply nodded and waited for him to continue. "I have come to you today with an irresistible offer, but above everything, I need to know that you have a complete understanding of what we do," he paused once again, seemingly trying to collect his words. "You see Ms. Black we rehabilitate criminals, refurbish them into productive citizens and that is no easy feat."

"I am well aware of what you do Mr. O'Brien, this is what I studied for. Excuse me if I come off as brash, but I did not rack up sixty grand of student loans for nothing." Matthew chuckled softly and mentioned for the waiter to approach, dropping his menu he looked her in the eye and said, "I'm glad you understand what you are getting yourself into. Now for my offer, I have an opening available right now and you seem to be just the girl for it." He sipped his wine, his eyes taking in her voluptuous body. "No, you seem to be the woman for it."

Turning to the waiter with a forced smile, she gave her order as she glanced at Matthew vigilantly, bracing herself for what might come. "An opening you say?" She queried. "Yes, in one of the Quarters." She looked at him peculiarly, her eyebrows drawn together in befuddlement. "I beg your pardon? I am not following you Mr. O'Brien, what's a Quarter?" Matthew chuckled again. "All in good time Ms. Black, all in good time." "Excuse me," the waiter said, serving them their orders and with a bow, he walked away. "Dig in;" Matthew said with a smile. "We will talk later."

》

Both of Ian's hands trembled as he fumbled with the set of keys fluctuating constantly in his grip, the tray's contents', which was resting on his left palm, were threatening to spill from the continuous vigorous shaking. His eyes, a light shade of blue, were darting around the dull hall. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his erratic heartbeat, then he raised his head heavenward; and with his right hand crossed himself, lingering a second longer on his right shoulder, sending a little prayer. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

Softly prying the heavy lids open, he shoved the rusty key in the lock and pushed open the heavy metal door. His eyes took a minute to adjust to the flickering light of the light bulb in the cell, holding to whatever shreds of courage Ian had left, he walked to the center of the room and set the silver tray on the floor. "Forty One, dinner is served! You have fifteen minutes before my next round." Ian hollered. The sound of the heavy chains shackling the blond man to the wall rang in Ian's ears; the movement causing the fulgurating light to reflect on the chains. Ian held his breath, clutching the cross hanging off his slim neck, he sent another prayer to the heavens as sweat started to accumulate on his now feverish pale skin. Releasing his clutch on the cross, he turned around and retired the depressingly empty room with counterfeit tranquility. Without lingering, he hurriedly returned to the main building's kitchen.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Whitmore." Ian turned to his coworker, Albert Hying, with wide, frightened eyes.

"A ghost?" he held his cross. "No mate, not even close to a ghost, that ungodly aura is straight out satanic. I bet my arm and leg that Forty One guy has some demonic possession shit going on."

"Possession? My, my, that guy did quite the number on you." Albert chuckled.

"Think about it Albert, that guy is in Quarter Four man, not One, not Two, and not even Three God damn it, Four! There must be something seriously off about him if he's in there." Ian insisted.

"I'll ride your ship then; yes it freaked me a bit hearing there is someone down at Four, but whatever it is, fretting will not do a God damn thing. You know how tightlipped they are up there." Albert grabbed the cart and walked to towards the door and said over his shoulder. "How about I'll do this round and you rest."

Ian nodded and turned around to the locker room his heart heavy. Opening his locker he clutched the bible he kept there at all times and kneeled. Averting his gaze to the tiled floor, he held his cross in his hands as he started praying, crossing himself he rose to his full height. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen." Still, even after a prayer his soul was still agitated and troubled. "Something is wrong," he whispered. "Something is definitely wrong." Ian just sighed as he bandied his uniform for his sweatpants and shirt; fingering his unruly mass of hair, he headed to the dormitory he shared with Albert. Tomorrow, he thought, I will visit church and everything will be okay again.

》

Cynthia gently wiped her mouth, careful not to smear her lipstick, but sighing when she saw the faint shadow of red covering the white napkin. "Exquisite meal, was it not?" Matthew said with a small smile on his face. "Indeed," Cynthia agreed. "Now let's discuss business, shall we?" Matthew just slips a piece of paper to her and calmly dropped a few notes on the table as he stood up. "Rule number one; never dissertate business in a restaurant. I expect you to be at the address by eight o'clock sharp; don't keep me waiting Ms. Black. You will understand everything tomorrow."

"Insufferable bastard, what was the damn use of this dinner!" She whispered under her breath as soon as he was out of earshot.

》

"How did it go Richards?" Asked Lucas Grey, his blue eyes staring at the young man blurred by puffs of smoke from his cigar, standing at the entrance of the dimly lit basement, a glass of whiskey firmly gripped by his hand. "O'Brien is with her as we speak, Sir." He replied muddy brown eyes taking in the aging gentlemen huddled over the poker table, each with a drink in hand. "There are no rooms for silly blunders or snafus, this girl is a done deal for us, we need her." Warned Marc Jackson, his eyes trained on his cards with a mischievous look. "Of course, Sir, I understand." Abel Richards retaliated. "Ah, just in time." Abel said as his phone started ringing. "O'Brien." He acknowledged. "Richards. She's meeting me at the office tomorrow morning." And with that Matthew hung up. "It's done." Abel said. "Excellent," Lucas replied, his gaze lingering on Marc.

"Well gentlemen,"Marc said as he dropped his cards. "I think I can congratulate myself for this round." The three men grumbled under their breath as Abel took his last swing of whiskey before exiting the basement.