64 Little sister

**Date = 30 June**
**Place = San Francisco (Inferno)**

**POV - Enrique**

At the door, Tina almost runs into one of my bouncers.

“Eh, Boss, you’ve got a … kid,” he says.

“A what?” I’m not ready to be a fake daddy to another scam.

The bouncer tilts his head. A small figure stands behind him, arms crossed, chin up like she owns the joint — or is about to burn it down.

She can’t be more than nine. But she has the posture of someone who can do ollies and kickturns, and probably stashes a switchblade. Denim jacket over a black hoodie with some demon-looking cartoon character on the front. Beanie jammed onto a head with long golden hair. A band-aid on one cheek. With one hand, she clenches a skateboard against her tiny frame, and the other holds onto the strap of her oversized backpack that’s casually slung over one puny shoulder.

I blink.

What the fuck is a kid doing in my club? I can lose my license.

She moves past the bouncer’s legs, shaking her head while she mumbles. “Good help is so hard to find these days.”

She stomps up to the bar with her black boots like she’s seen it done in movies. “You Jackson?”

Her head tilts dramatically back as she ogles up at me. I gasp at her angelic appearance ― huge teal eyes under long black lashes, rose button lips, and a perfect little nose. She’s a breathtakingly beautiful kid. Like those little cherubs painted on the ceilings of catholic churches.

“Uh … no.” I wipe my hands. “You lost, Shortstuff?” I pick up another lemon.

Her eyes narrow like I’ve insulted her ancestors.

“I’m not lost, I’m looking for Jackson,” she scolds. “But you’ll do.”

“I — what?”

“You must be the not-as-hot twin?” I drop the lemon. The bouncer chuckles softly. I give him a dismissive glare and watch him leave.

Releasing her backpack strap, the girl holds out that hand. For a moment, her smile seems brashly familiar, but I can’t place it.

“Name’s River.” I lean over the bar and take her outstretched hand.

“Enrique.”

“I know … the actor,” she snarls. “I’ve googled you guys on the bus. It was a loooonggg drive. Do you know what it’s like to sleep next to a man named Phil who brushes his teeth with soda?”

“… No?” I say uncertainly.

“Exactly.” She nods solemnly. “It changes a person.”

Why is she out by herself at this hour of the night? She should be in bed … not roaming the streets. My eyes dart around in the hopes of spotting some grown-up she might belong to, but I don’t find one. I’m about to ask her when she wrinkles her nose.

“No offense, but I find your movies a touch dull.” Her audacity takes me by surprise, and for a beat, I’m at a loss for words.

That’s it. I’m taking her little ass to the police. They can deal with this shit.

I walk around and I grab her arm to pull her with me, downstairs, so someone can take her to the station.

Never in a million years did I expect the lengthy, high-pitched screech to escape from that dinky little mouth. Neither did I foresee the kick that landed on my shin. A hard one.

I hop around like a drunk rabbit to take the edge off. The imp fucking laughs her cheeky little ass off. Skimpy minx!

“You know,” the unhappily-married general says, “They’re taking pictures. Better to get this kid out of here. I don’t want to lose my watering hole.” I look around. He’s right. To get my drunken-ass-flirting sessions out there, I’ve let some journalists knowingly slip into this space. And now it might bite me in the ass.

That’s it. I’ve had it with this sassy whippersnapper. She’s creating a dire scene I truly am not in the mood for.

I pick the holy terror up, skateboard, backpack, and all, and toss the wriggling little urchin over my shoulder, walking with large, angry strides to my office. I keep my head down, hoping that my foolish plan does not backfire on me, but knowing that it already has.

Shit. This is gonna be great. Enrique Blackburn. Pervert. Child-kidnapper.

Fuck.

The idea was for them to report me flirting with the opposite sex, not stating that I’m a sick monster abusing little girls in my nightclub.

Fantastic.

Dean is gonna crack up even more. He’s already walking around like a bear with blue balls — his biggest clients are either missing or messing up.

The jackanapes keeps hitting my back with tiny fiery fists that sting more than they should. And the feisty little creature has the lung capacity of a blue whale, judging by the uninterrupted screaming in my ears.

The office door creaks open. Axel is on the couch, passed out in those dirty clothes — boots off, feet up, one arm over his face. There is an energy drink on the floor and a half-eaten granola bar, still in the wrapper, on his chest.

I drop the girl, and she immediately gasps. “Is he dead?”

“No, he’s recovering.”

She pulls a silly face, kinda cute, kinda not. “From what? An IQ drop?”

She wrinkles her nose. “He stinks.” Then she sticks a finger in his ribs. Hard.

Axel shoots up like someone tasered him. “Fuck … what —?!”

“You’re alive! Great,” River says. “Then you can help, too. You look like you have upper-body strength. That might come in handy,” she rambles. “And it’s not nice to swear.”

Axel blinks at me like I’ve brought home a talking cat.

“Why is there a child?” he croaks. I shrug. River lets out a riled, disdainful snort.

“She’s cute,” Axel sniggers.

She pulls in a sharp breath, then levels him with a look of withering scorn.

“Oh, so you think I’m cute when I’m angry … well, get ready, dipship, because I’m about to be adorable!” She moves with lightning-fast reflexes, and before I can even digest her words, she fists Axel in the stomach. Twice. While kicking my shin. Again.

I do some more bunny jumps, biting my tongue from stringing out foul language not meant for little ears. Axel glances at me, still winded, looking for some explanation. I put my hands in the air.

“I’ve got nothing, bro. She could be on drugs … or rabid.”

“Is she related to your twin?” He’s teasing, but it could very well be.

“Great,” she mutters, using big hand gestures. “I come looking for the devil and end up with two fools.”

Before I can collect myself, she points a little finger at my chin and continues, “I’m looking for Lee. Can. You. Help?” She spells out as if I’m daft or something.

“Lee?” I’m having slight mental difficulty understanding what the hell is going on. Wasn’t she looking for Jackson?

“My si … eh, I’m the sister. Doesn’t answer my calls.”

“You’re Lee’s sister?” Still figuring it out here.

“Are you slow or just stupid?” Axel’s brows shoot up, cracking the mud and blood on his dirty face. He picks up the energy drink and takes a sip.

“Isn’t that like kinda the same?” he asks. He gets a look. A cold, piercing teal glint.

“Look, I took a bus here from Portland. Sixteen hours, crappy wi-fi, three questionable snacks, and a lady who looks like she could be the witch from a Grimm folktale,” she snaps. “So, can you please just try to help?” She boldly eyeballs me, her teal eyes like melted sea glass ― see-through and enigmatic and so intense that it knocks the sense right out of me.

“Or at least feed me. I’m starving.” She melts us with her bizarre gaze.

She took a bus ride from Portland to San Francisco all by herself. I stop and examine her petite frame. I’m fucking impressed, but shudder to think of all the really bad things that could have happened to her.

Axel hands her the leftover cereal bar. A peace offering.

She inspects it like a customs officer. “What is this? Compost?”

“Eat it,” I say.

She takes a bite and gags. “I need some real food. Haven’t eaten since Portland. The lady at the bus station there gave me weird chicken nuggets. I think one was a toe.”

I look into the eyes of a shocked, confused Axel, pleading silently with him to help me out here. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stills and laughs.

“I can do with a bloody burger, bro,” he then whines.

“Triple cheese … with chips and a milkshake,” River chirps, already in a better mood.

I hold up my hands in submission. It’s not as if I can strangle the kid. So instead, I order some triple cheeseburgers, fries, and milkshakes, because judging by her size and her attitude, she needs calories and a sedative.

“Let’s start over.” I sit on the chair opposite her and extend my hand, “Truce?”

She looks at it as if she might chew off my fingers. I’m prepared for anything, expecting the unexpected. She dips her head, then takes my hand hesitantly.

“Fine.” She tilts her chin out and eyeballs me. “But I’m not doing a ritual to join your cult.” Then she draws her hand from mine and stares at Axel. “And you are?” Her voice is all potty.

“Axel.”

“Oh, the hot fire fighter. Pleasure,” she nods and hugs her board against her as if seeking solace from it. A ping of some or other feeling stings my heart. “You don’t look so hot. And you reek … badly … you know that?” Axel pulls a lopsided sneer. He’s enjoying this way too much.

I lower my voice.

“Okay, River. Why are you looking for my brother?” I try to sound comforting and reassuring. Someone she can trust. I’m truly not up for another round of shin-kicking.

She conveys a mix of surprise, excitement, happiness, and optimism. Her sea-glass eyes shine like stars instead of the prior, irked gazes. I nod my head.

“My sis … eh … Lee told me to find him if anything happened. At this place.” She swings her hand around in the air. “Sk … Lee is not answering the phone. It’s been a week now, and I’m worried.”

Axel and I exchange a glance ― a what-the-hell one.

“And mom’s been getting the devil, the lover, the fool, the skull, and the wheel of fortune every time now. That’s not good, you know.” She moves forward, eyes dead serious, and almost pokes a finger up my nostril.

I’m not sure what she’s blabbing about. Maybe she’s not totally right up there. Lee, for sure as hell, is not normal. Could be a family thing.

“The devil, the lover, the fool … ” Axel must also be lost. “Eh, are you describing the Blackburns?” he chuckles.

Dimwit.

River throws her hands in the air and gives us a look that makes it quite apparent that she thinks we’re more than a little daft. She sighs the way you do when you need to explain something trivial to a simpleton. I know that sigh. My sister uses it a lot.

“My mom reads tarot cards. And other cards. And palms. She’s mostly WAAAYYYY off with her predictions.” Again with the huge hand gestures. She’s an energetic talker. “But occasionally she hits one right. And according to what Sk … eh Lee told me, Jackson is the devil card. Or the skull. Or both. I don’t always listen when people speak.”

“Sounds like my brother.” I get a scruffy look for interrupting.

“At first, Mom drew the lovers … meaning … they must be destined. But now … the skull … it represents death.” Her eyes enlarge and I swear it’s filling with tears. Shit.

“You know, I heard Lee talking to a friend … saying that Jackson devoured every inch of some pussy —” She squints. “We had a cat named Mr. Sprinkles. He’s been missing for a while. And I think your twin ate him.”

Axel freezes mid-sip of his energy drink. He coughs. Twice. Possibly into another dimension.

“I don’t think he ate your cat,” I say slowly, trying not to laugh.

“Well, maybe your brother ate … Lee …” I look up at the ceiling, holding it together. Granted, with Jackson, anything is possible … but I’m pretty sure he’s no Hannibal Lecter.

“Jackson is, in fact, the kind of guy who might nibble on girls,” I tease.

River looks alarmed. “Nibble?!”

“Nibble, yes. Chomp. Maybe even snack.” I nod. “But he does NOT eat people. Or cats. He definitely doesn’t eat kids. And boys are boring to him. Trust me — I’ve had this face for decades and he’s never once tried to bite me.” I’m pretty sure he’s more into sucking on some titties than balls. Or at least I was sure … until Lee showed up.

River narrows her eyes and folds her arms. “Okay. But if I end up in his tummy, you’re the first person I haunt.”

“Deal.” I laugh and hold out my pinky. “You haunt me, I’ll avenge you.”

We pinky swear.

The burgers come, and she examines them like a greedy scientist. “Now that looks like a mean burger.” She takes a huge bite and hums compliantly. “Acceptable.”

“Mom …” she says with her mouth still full. “Mm … Mom can’t cook for shit.” She chomps down two more bites.

“Ain’t your parents worried?” Axel asks, gobbling up his own burger. I wonder when he last ate.

“Nope … Gypsies,” River says, licking her fingers. “Dad has one leg and no filter. Mom reads tarot cards and smokes weed.”

“Do they know where you are?” I ask. She slurps milkshake through her straw.

“Yeah. I left a note.” She left a message. Fantastic. Either I’m going down as a pedophile or a kiddie kidnapper. She stops slurping, and her face turns sad. “They must be worried about Lee, too,” she sniffs. Axel encircles an arm around her petite shoulders. Miraculously, she lets him, without maiming him.

“So, get the devil so we can find my … Lee,” she pleads softly.

“Can we?” I ask sarcastically, looking at my twin’s bestie. I don’t know where Jackson is.

“We’ll find him. He always shows up for a dramatic entrance,” Axel scoffs.

That he does.

“So, Enrique, my boy,” River tweets, “Where am I gonna crash?”

Not in the club … that’s for sure.