All Chapters of The Deal With The Devil: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Giovanni"What are you doing, Sienna?""Making sure you get what you paid for." She slurs the words."Is it that bad?" I ask. "This secret?"Her hands stop their work and she looks deep into my eyes, searching them, then resumes, shifting her gaze downward as she succeeds in undoing the belt, the pants."You really want the waiter who's about two floors away to see you on your knees sucking my dick when he gets here?"Her eyes fly up to mine."Didn't think so," I say, redoing the fly of my pants, my belt.On cue, the elevator doors slide open and a waiter pushes a tray inside."Sir," he says, pretending not to see a drunk Sienna stumble her way to the couch."Thank you," I tell him and hand him a fifty-dollar-bill. "Don't worry about cleaning it up tonight.""Thank you, sir," he says and a moment later, he's gone.I go to the coffee machine and make her a mug of black coffee. When it's ready, I hand it to her.She takes it and I watch her drink a sip. When I set the plated club sandwi

Giovanni"You're wearing out my patience."I step into the bedroom, note how the closet door is open, two shoe boxes having fallen over stopping it from shutting.She matches each of my steps in the opposite direction, keeping distance between us. She's flushed and out of breath and looks guilty as sin."Brian just lost his job.""I snuck out the back. It wasn't his fault."I walk toward the closet and she backs away to the foot of the bed. I open the door, look down at the toppled boxes."Actions have consequences. As does incompetence." I shove at a box. "What were you doing?""I needed something," she starts, her voice different, forced.I turn to look at her. "What did you need?" She looks guilty as sin.Her eyes search mine momentarily before she shifts her gaze to a point beyond my shoulder."A book.""You keep your books in the closet?"She wrings her hands.I step to her.She backs up again. "While I was here, I thought I'd get my yoga clothes.""Did I give you the impression

SiennaIt's so quiet here, it's almost strange. If I stop to listen, it's a sound itself, that silence. And it somehow calms me. Makes things almost manageable when I concentrate on it and that's what I do. I sleep. I listen. I sleep.And the next day when I wake up, I leave another message for Deirdre telling her I don't feel well and it's not a lie. I tell her I won't be in for the next few days and just to close the shop and leave a note in the window.By the time I have a shower the next night, he's still not back.I lock the bathroom door and strip off my clothes then turn my back to the mirror and look at myself. Look at the damage.My butt and upper thighs are bruised, the welts of the belt distinct and tender to the touch. I don't know how many strokes he gave me. I stopped counting after ten.I switch on the shower and I don't know if I'm weak from hunger or just sadness. It's hard to even move, to get myself under the flow of water. All I want to do is sleep. I just want to

Giovanni "When I turned seventeen, I left. That's all," she says, completely avoiding my question. "I was old enough to take care of myself, and I did. I came to Las Vegas and I met Mrs. Adams who owned Wrinkles in Time and worked for her until she died. She left me the shop and I'm continuing her work. And her kids wish they could evict me and make real money on the building, but they weren't able to contest the will. That's about it in a nutshell.""And you donate about fifty percent of your profits to the homeless shelter a few blocks away. That's the reason you have the low rent agreement Mrs. Adams' greedy kids aren't thrilled about.""How did you know?""I heard the woman at the shop the other day and was curious, so I looked into it.""Looked into it? Why didn't you just ask me?""You're not so forthcoming, Sienna."She looks around again, then cocks her head to the side. "You don't have any photographs of family either, by the way," she says.I remember when she found the one

SiennaI'm dozing when Giovanni's shadow falls over me."You're burnt," he says.He's like a giant, blocking out the whole of the sun."You need to put on sunscreen. Where's your sunscreen?" He crouches down to look through the straw bag I brought to the pool with me."Relax," I say, sitting up, straddling the seat. "It's here. And I did put it on." I find the tube of sunscreen under my towel and look down at my chest and he's right, I did burn. But it's not bad.He sits on the edge of the chaise and takes the tube, squeezes some on his hand and starts to rub it into my chest. He's been like this since he got back. Attentive. Sometimes overly so.And always watching me."Giovanni, stop. It's fine. It's not bad and I'm going inside anyway." I stay his hand, but he seems anxious. And I realize how totally out of place he looks up here in his suit while people are splashing around in the pool. Pop music is playing probably louder than he likes."I hate this fucking music," he says as if