Kinnporsche, Volume 4, page 7
“Been through the hands of hundreds of men.” Vegas repeated the same verse. I saw red.
“What do you mean, ‘been through the hands of hundreds of men’? There’s only been y—” Shit! I snapped my mouth closed—I’d accidentally blurted out something I shouldn’t have. Shit, Pete! You’ve done it again! What the fuck did you say that for?
Vegas smiled widely and set his guitar down. He stood up with a satisfied smirk and threw a towel over his shoulder before turning to me.
“Okay, I believe you,” he said. “There’s only been me.”
Vegas went into the bathroom, whistling all the while. I pulled at my hair in frustration. What the hell did I just do?! I’d been under too much pressure for too long, so stressed out that I’d run my mouth without thinking. Damn it!
When Vegas came out of the bathroom, I couldn’t look him in the eye. He ordered me to put away the things he’d bought while he went to sit in his office. I saw two or three of his men come in to help him. He glanced into the bedroom every now and then, but I acted indifferent to his attention. I knew he couldn’t see anything through the one-way glass, anyway, so I found things to occupy myself with—like trying to pry open my chain.
Vegas worked through the afternoon, up until the evening. He then disappeared for several hours—my guess was that he took Macau out to dinner. As for me, Nop brought me my meal tray. No need to think about what weird European slop it was; I’d just eat and be done with it.
It was late when Vegas returned. Today, it looked like he’d been working hard on a huge pile of paperwork. He went to wash his face and immediately collapsed onto the bed.
I congratulated myself, proud that my genius strategy was still working. Vegas hadn’t done anything to me for a while now; it wouldn’t be long before he got tired of my face and told me to scram. I couldn’t wait for that day to come—I got excited just thinking about it.
I turned the bedside lights off and tossed and turned. We slept so far apart that we were basically on opposite edges of the bed, with a pillow between us. I refused to sleep on the sofa or the floor. If this was my life now, I wanted to at least be comfortable when I closed my eyes.
I couldn’t fall asleep tonight, though. Dinner had been some dumb salad, so my stomach still growled and ached. My body really wasn’t used to this “organic” crap. I couldn’t digest it—it was just too different from what I was used to. I flipped onto my side, so wrapped up in thinking about all my favorite foods that I hadn’t noticed Vegas was still awake.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his arm reaching over to hug my waist from behind. His warm hand, brushing against my body under the covers, was enough to make me jump. When had he removed the pillow between us? I whipped around to stare at him in shock, flailing and toppling off the bed.
“Ow!” I yelped.
“Ah?” Vegas poked his head over the edge to peer at me on the floor as I rubbed my back in pain. A faint light filtering in from the balcony illuminated the room enough for me to see Vegas smirk and slowly shake his head. I really have been jumpy lately. What the hell is he doing?!
“Shit… That hurt,” I cursed under my breath.
“Do you have to be so scared of me?” Vegas asked.
“You surprised me. I thought you were a ghost,” I lied. In truth, Vegas terrified me.
“Hah! What ghost? Scaredy-cat.”
Of course I’m scared! Put yourself in my shoes!
Vegas propped his chin on his hands and stared at me through the darkness. “Can’t sleep? You keep tossing and turning.”
“…I’m hungry,” I answered hesitantly.
“Again?” Vegas let out a sigh. “The food at my house never makes you full, does it?”
“Yes, again. Since I’ve been locked up here, I haven’t touched a single grain of rice. Not even boiled rice!” I complained, my stomach protesting even harder.
Vegas flopped back onto the bed and let out a long sigh.
“Get back to your side already. Move!” I grumbled, getting up from the floor and nudging Vegas back to his side of the bed. He rolled back without resistance.
No matter how scared I was of getting punished for daring to order Vegas around, I was too cranky from hunger to care.
“Damn it!” Vegas got up from the bed and slid his feet into his slippers. His hands fumbled for the light switch by the headboard. With that, he walked out of the room, grumbling under his breath.
“Where are you going?” I shouted after him. Has he finally had enough of me? Is he going to sleep somewhere else? Is he going to get the key to unlock the chain…? Hey, it could happen!
But if he’s feeling really vicious, he might be summoning his men to come beat me up.
What is he going to do?
Vegas was gone for a long time. I sat there, biting my nails, my heart hammering in anticipation. Was I going to be free sooner than expected? How should I celebrate my newfound freedom?
Before I could lose myself in my fantasies, Vegas came back into the bedroom with a bowl of instant noodles, like last time, the delicious smell filling the room. My eyes lit up, and I completely forgot what I’d been hoping for earlier.
“Come eat on the sofa,” Vegas said. He set the bowl down on the coffee table and plopped himself onto the couch.
“That’s for me?” I asked, just to be sure. I got up, following the spicy aroma.
“Who else would it be for?” Vegas said. “You’ve given me a lot of trouble.”
I sank down next to Vegas, picking up the bowl of noodles and giving it a stir. There was just the right amount of broth in the bowl this time around. I wasted no time picking up my fork and digging in. Holy shit! I’m in heaven. It’s Tom Yum Kung-flavored too! I finally get to eat something spicy!
“Don’t slurp it so fast, you’ll burn your mouth,” Vegas reprimanded me. He poured water from a pitcher into a glass and handed it over.
I took the glass from him and drank the water. I didn’t pay attention to anything else, even when I noticed that Vegas had swung his legs up onto the sofa and squeezed into my space. He put both his hands behind his head and stared at me without blinking.
I scooted over so Vegas could fully stretch out his legs and tried to focus on eating my noodles, savoring the taste. But it was awkward to have someone staring at me while I ate; I could feel the pressure and slowed down. Why the fuck is he staring at me?!
Not knowing what else to do, I held up the bowl toward him. “You want some?”
“Nah. My nanny used to say you’ll die young if you eat that kind of junk.”
I was twirling the noodles into my mouth just then, and Vegas’s words nearly made me choke. As I coughed, I saw Vegas failing to hide a smile. Bastard! It might not be the healthiest, but at least it fills my stomach!
“Slow down and eat properly,” he said evenly. I took another sip of water, trying to swallow my mouthful of noodles.
“You can go to sleep,” I told him. “I’ll spray some air freshener after.”
“Nah, I’ll wait for you to finish first,” Vegas said, smiling slightly. I nearly choked again—what was he waiting for?
“Then get back on the bed,” I said as I ate. “I can’t sit properly with you crowding me like this. And what are you looking at me for if you’re not hungry?” The atmosphere was so stifling that I had to ask.
“It’s my house, I can sit wherever I want. And they’re my eyes, so I can look at whatever I want.”
I pulled a face at Vegas and spun around with my bowl, eating with my back to him. I didn’t listen, didn’t look, didn’t pay any attention to him. I ate the whole bowl and chased it down with two more glasses of water. I wasn’t completely full—it was only one packet of instant noodles, after all—but what could I do? If I made any more of a fuss, Vegas would lose his temper.
“If you’re done, go brush your teeth,” Vegas said. He took the soup bowl and water glass outside, and I obediently went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
When I came back into the room, Vegas had already sprayed air freshener everywhere. He blocked me from lying down straight away, ordering me to sit up against the headboard for a while so I wouldn’t choke on any acid reflux. Then he turned off all the lights, burrowed under the blankets, and was fast asleep in no time.
“Fuckin’ tyrant,” I cursed under my breath. Why was Vegas being so nice these days? It was weird. This version of Vegas was better to have around, though: I wasn’t getting beat up, and I was no longer the target of his anger. Please keep this up. I’ll take it as the merit I accumulated in my past lives.
***
It was a new day of being locked up. I wondered if there was chalk or charcoal somewhere in this room so I could mark the days on the wall like a prisoner. How did Sirius Black avoid the Dementors when he escaped from Azkaban? I didn’t know what else I could say—my life was exactly the same!
Vegas went to work in his office in the late hours of the morning. In the afternoon, he was called to work at the company by his father, judging from the snippets I heard from his men. Vegas was swamped with work, and it was stressing him out.
I was pretty sure Vegas and his father were getting ready to run, or at least they must be planning a way to deny the evidence I had sent to Mr. Kinn. But what was the Major Clan doing right now? I knew that Mr. Kinn, Mr. Korn, and even P’Chan must already have had some sort of grand plan. However, for a fraction of a moment, I just wanted to know…did they ever think about me? Did they miss Pete at all?
The glass door slid open with a creak, pulling me from my thoughts. I stopped doing sit-ups and craned my neck to see what was going on.
It was Nop. “Pete, Mr. Vegas wants to talk to you,” he said, handing me a phone. I couldn’t contain my excitement. “Don’t look so pleased,” he added. “Mr. Vegas told me to stand guard. If you do anything suspicious, I’ll shoot.” He lifted his suit jacket to show me the gun at his hip. I scowled at him and held the phone up to my ear.
“What?” I said into the phone.
“What do you want to eat?” Vegas asked. It sounded like he was laughing—he’d probably heard Nop threatening to shoot me just now.
“Hmm? What was that?” I must’ve misheard, so I had to check.
“I said, what do you want to eat? So I can buy it for you.”
Was this the real Vegas? Why was he acting so out of character? I looked at the phone in confusion, but the name on the screen was correct, and so was the voice. It was him. What sort of spirit is possessing him now? It weirds me out when he’s this…nice.
“I can choose?” I asked, surprised.
“I’m too lazy to keep boiling noodles for you at night,” he said impatiently. “What do you want to eat? Tell me, and make it quick.”
“Uh…”
“I’m at a Japanese restaurant with Macau. Sushi, sashimi, you want something like that?”
“Ugh… Nah. I just want some rice and curry. The spicier, the better—especially if it’s Southern.” My brain was already dreaming up an endless stream of food.
“Where am I supposed to find that? Choose something easier.”
“What?! How hard can it be to find a khao kaeng place? Don’t you know what that is?”
“Such a pain. Fine, fine. Pass the phone back to Nop—I want to speak with him.”
I handed the phone to Nop without protest. I was in a much better mood now, even if I was still angry at Vegas, deep down. Curry is a pain to find, my ass! Curry-and-rice shops are everywhere, you dipshit!
“Yes, Mr. Vegas. Understood,” Nop said, and hung up. He turned to stare at my face, and my smile vanished. I didn’t even know when I’d started making such a gleeful expression in the first place.
“I think you’re on the right path, Pete,” said Nop. “You might just survive this. Keep it up, man.” With that, he walked out of the room.
Nop thinks I’m on the right path? I do too. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Nop. I could feel that glimmer of hope shining even brighter. It wouldn’t be long before Vegas wanted to get rid of me—he couldn’t put up with this for long! I’d just keep my head down and continue to act as uninteresting as possible. Vegas must’ve complained to Nop that I was starting to bore him. Heh.
I eagerly awaited my food. I was so engrossed in anticipation that…I. Forgot. About. Everything. Else! Why was I such a glutton?!
Instead of trying to figure out how to escape, waiting for the day Vegas would get bored and throw me out seemed more appealing. I must’ve been numb to the situation already, but I had to learn to adapt and not dwell on the same thing. If the chain wouldn’t come off, I should forget trying to pry it open—my new escape route was full of hope.
The door sliding open made me jump in my seat. I spun around, hoping to see…Vegas? Why would I want to see him?
But, to my disappointment, it was Nop. He handed the phone to me again. “Here! Mr. Vegas wants to talk to you again.”
I took it from him wearily and sighed into the receiver, “What’s up?”
“I’m at a khao kaeng place,” Vegas asked. “What do you want?”
“What do they have?”
“I don’t know what you want to eat. Just tell me.”
“What?! How am I supposed to know what to order when I don’t know what they’ve got?” Are you stupid?!
“Phi, what’s the spiciest thing you’ve got?”
I couldn’t help but smile when I overheard Vegas talking to the vendor. Has he ever eaten at one of these places in his life?
“Khua kling3…and…”
“That one, that one, that one!” I cut in when I heard my favorite food being mentioned.
“I’ll take that, Phi,” Vegas said.
“Is there sweet pork belly?” I said. “I want sweet pork belly, too.”
“Do you have sweet pork belly…? Then I’ll take that as well. Do you want anything else, Pete?”
“I want kaeng lueang4 with shrimp and coconut shoots.”
“Argh, fine! I’ll take some kaeng lueang with shrimp and coconut shoots too. You’ve got that, right? What else do you want?”
“You know what? Just get everything they have. I can get Nop to microwave it for me.”
“Fine, fucking hell,” Vegas grumbled. “Pass the phone back to Nop.”
I gave the phone back to Nop and went to sit back down on the sofa like before, grinning to myself. My beloved Southern food! At last, I was getting the chance to eat something good. I finally had something to be happy about since getting stuck in this hellhole!
I lazed around on the sofa, having found some books to pass the time with. I’d always been able to find happiness in the little things, so everyone saw me as chill and easygoing. I really was like that, though. Take what happened just now, for example—such a simple thing had erased so many days’ worth of stress. Even if I was awaiting my own execution, at least I got to eat my favorite foods as a last meal.
Just over an hour passed before Vegas came in with my food, followed by Nop, who brought plates to set on the coffee table. I was probably grinning like an idiot, but I didn’t care. I chose two dishes to eat right then, along with two portions of rice. I got Nop to put the rest in the fridge for me while I poured everything else out onto the plates.
I ate slowly, savoring my meal and letting the flavors seep into my taste buds as Vegas paced the room. He went to the balcony door and threw it open, as if afraid the smell would stink up his room. I chewed as I watched his antics, both my cheeks bulging with food.
“Aren’t you being a bit overdramatic? It’s just curry. Are you going to die from having it in your room?” Ah, shit! I don’t know where that came from! Why did I forget myself? I must’ve caught that cocky habit from Porsche.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Vegas said, setting a glass of water next to my plate as he sat down next to me on the couch.
I pulled a face and cursed under my breath. “Bratty fucking rich kid.”
Vegas threw his arm over the backrest and settled onto the couch. “Is it good? I was going to get you some Japanese food, but you didn’t want any.”
“Yes! Good! I’ve had enough of the bland stuff! This is where it’s at,” I said, exulting in the taste of the sweet pork belly and khua kling. These are the flavors of life!
Vegas looked at my face, then at my plate. “That color’s insane. Isn’t it too spicy?”
“Nope. Sweet pork belly and khua kling go great together.”
Vegas shook his head. I was afraid he wouldn’t believe me if he’d never tasted Southern food, so with my spoon, I scooped up some rice, sweet pork belly, and a little bit of khua kling to give it a kick.
I held the spoonful up to his mouth. “Have some,” I said. I did it without thinking—I was just proud of the food I grew up with.
Vegas looked at my face and froze. “I…I already ate dinner with Macau,” he said, looking stunned.
“Try it! Just try some,” I insisted, shoving the spoon at him.
“I don’t do spicy.”
“I know. That’s why I made sure you got lots of sweet pork belly. Here, come on, try it.”
Vegas hesitated before slowly opening his mouth.
I stared at him eagerly as he chewed. “How is it?” Shit! Why do I have to be so excited? It really must be as they say: Southern blood runs deep.
“It’s okay.” Vegas swallowed and immediately reached for my glass, gulping all the water down in one go.
“You’ll get addicted to it soon enough,” I said. I turned back to my plate, buzzing with joy. How long has it been since I felt this content?
“I’m already addicted. What should I do?” He said it in a whisper—but I managed to overhear him.
I moved my plate out of his reach and turned to glare at him. “Then go buy more. This is mine.” I bent down to eat faster.
Vegas chuckled. “Give me more of that sweet pork belly. I’m going to go work.”
