An Unlikely Encounter ch.11

CHAPTER 11

I already hate where this is going.

The large presence pulled me into a big room with only one light bulb hanging directly in the of a large, wooden, circular table. The table was filled with partially bald, some over weight, well dressed men who looked like they could pose for some shoddy car salesmen. Or maybe con artists. These guys were definitely bad news.

The best-looking man at the table perked up when he spotted me, and he adjusted himself in his large chair in a way that gave him the illusion of a man holding great power.  

The man sat at the very end of the table, in the position furthest away from me. All the other appeared to be flanking him, as if they were his workers, and he was the boss.

'Oh. So he's the guy I'm dealing with,' I thought considering.

The large presence pushed me to the ground when I was far enough into the room, causing my skirt to ride up my butt, and momentarily flash everyone.

Good thing that the Joker had been solicitous enough to give me modest panties to wear. All the heads at the table whipped around  analyze my presence. A few made a move to help me up, but were halted by the hand of the man at the end of the table.

The man folded his hands, contemplating my vulnerable position for a few moments.

The man turned to the guy who tugged me into the room, and gestured him to come forward. As the mysterious figure stepped closer towards the light, I was able to catch a good glimpse of his face.

I wish I hadn't. The man looked haggard to say in the least. His face was marred by long, bright pink scars traveling vertically across his face, contrasting wrinkled, tanned skin. One of the man's eyes appeared to be an unnatural shade of pale blue, almost as if he were blind. The other was mud-colored.

The man had hair going all the way to the backs of his thighs, tied up into a low ponytail. He wore clothes with stains and rips and holes in them. All of which had a dirty brown color faded into them. His shoes were sandals, and I looked away before I could observe his disgusting yellow feet.

I discreetly wiped the arm that the man touched, hoping to remove the grime that might've been left there.

The good-looking man at the end of the table made sure that his minion didn't come to close to him, as it was evident that he was thoroughly repulsed by the haggard man as well.

"Who is this girl?" Asked the good-looking boss.

"Dunno sir," The haggard man's voice was nothing but a growl, "By er password, she's ere to deliver something to yeh."

The man sighed, "Garrett, are you absolutely sure that you got the right message? Everyone knows your little issue with your . . . shall we say . . . intelligibility . . ." The man trailed off suggestively.

"What-chu tryin to say, asshole?" Garret growled angrily, "Yeh callin' me stupid or somethin'?" He took a step towards the good-looking man.

The man put his hands up to stop Garrett from getting any closer. Most likely out of repulsion of Garrett's lack of hygiene rather then fear.

"No no no," The man backtracked, "No one's saying anything Garret, don't worry. Why don't you sit down in your chair all the way at the end of the room? You've given me the information I need. Please go now."

Garrett glared at the man for another second or two before he growled headed towards the chair at the back of the room.

Once Garret sat down, the man looked at me once again.

"Now," he pursued, raising his arms up and touching his fingertips together reflectively, "I see that you've managed to find your way to me, whoever you are. Pray tell, what is your purpose here exactly?"

I scrambled my brain for anything close to a believable response when I recalled the instructions of the Joker.

I had crumpled the paper in my hands in fear when Garret had grabbed me, and forgotten about it while the previous scene had played out before me.

I unfurled my fingers surreptitiously, and I studied the paper, trying to view the words in the dim lighting.

I think it said 3.) You're here to clean the rooms.

"I'm here to clean the rooms." I answered dutifully. In a voice I hoped to be firm and convincing.

The man looked at me incredulously.

"You're here . . . to clean . . . the rooms," He asked again slowly, as if saying it would help him comprehend better.

I checked the list again, checking to see if I had read that wrong. I read it again the same way. So I nodded.

The man didn't speak for a few heartbeats, scrutinizing my face for any signs of deception.

I began to squirm under his intense gaze, which brought his attention to the dress that I was wearing. His eyebrow rose a fraction.

"Ah,"

I tilted my head slightly. The man smirked.

"I see now. You're here to clean the rooms. All right then, I understand. Louis?" A well-dressed really skinny, pointy-faced man manifested behind me.

"Please see to it that the uh, cleaning lady makes it to the master bed room safely. Thank you." The man dismissed Louis and I with a wave of his hands.

Before I left the room though, I turned around to catch him staring at my retreating figure with a creepy grin on his face.

Louis took me through dark hallway after dark hallway. I couldn't even see my hands in front of me it was so dark. This feature would make it almost impossible to retrace my steps and escape.

My palms began to sweat a bit.

Louis threw open a door to my right and tossed me inside like I were a light backpack or something. I landed on my knees in front of the bed, and turned around just in time to see the door slam shut, and hear the lock clicking into place.

"Well then that settles that I guess," I thought sarcastically.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, and remembered my purpose.

Following the Joker's instructions, I looked at the piece of paper.

4.) Look for the wooden, mahogany clothing cabinet, and open the third drawer. Sift through all of the clothing until you get to the bottom. At the bottom, look for an IPhone 4, and enter the pin # 3657.

These instructions were way more elaborate. I didn't think to question at the moment though, how exactly the Joker would know that I'd end up here by saying what he wanted me to, because I've learned from my experience with the Joker that it's best for everyone if you kind of just go with it.

Quietly, I walked over to the only wooden cabinet in the room, and counted the drawers until I got to the third one. I pulled it open by the handle, and brushed a long strand of hair out of my face, and pulled out some clothes to reach the bottom.

And sure enough, there was the IPhone. I picked it up gingerly, afraid that some alarm might go off or something if I just snatched it up, and pressed the button on the bottom to turn on the screen.

Nothing happened, and so I entered the pin number.

I was about to look at my next task, when the door clicked open, and the good-looking man at the table entered the room.

I almost threw the phone back into the drawer, and I slammed it shut quickly.

"What are you doing?" He asked me curiously.

I froze.

My heart was beating rapidly, and my breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps. I turned around to face him. He was looking at me accusingly.

With nothing else to say, and no way to escape, I looked to the crumpled piece of paper for help.

My eyes shot open, and I felt ice sliding down my back in fear. I looked up at the man in front of me like a deer caught in headlights.

The message repeated itself in my head like an echo.          

5.) Kill him.

I began to hyperventilate, as the words kept repeating in my head over and over and over again like some sort of broken record.

"Did you hear me woman?" The man asked impatiently, "I asked you a question."

"Uh, um, I—I was, uh, polishing the cabinet! Yeah, polishing it." I spluttered out quickly. I turned around and pretended to appear to be dusting the furniture in the same position he caught me in.

The man said nothing. I could hear him shuffling behind me as I 'worked'. I took this time to stealthily look around the room a bit, and nodded my head in approval. Modern themed, It had pale blue walls, potted trees in every corner, a King-sized bed, a square lamp on the bedside table, and one cabinet.

Not the best I've seen, but still pretty nice.

"That's funny." The man said suddenly breaking me away from my thoughts, "I thought that usually cleaning ladies would see an unmade bed and do that first before anything else."

My head snapped up quickly. "Shit!" I thought aggravated, "How did I not notice the bed?" I had walked in and hadn't tried to keep up the pretense.

My eyes moved quickly, as if looking around would provide me with a plausible excuse for not doing the simplest task when it came to cleaning. I looked back at the cabinet.

"Yeah, but like, the cabinet just looked so dirty. I mean, it truly was disgusting how dusty it was. I couldn't even think to do anything else—it bothered me to no end I swear." I replied, trying my best to sound genuinely disgusted and haughty like my mom would when she was cleaning my room.

I glanced over my shoulder to see the man look thoughtful before nodding his head—accepting my response.

"Of course," he said.

I wiped the cabinet with my hand to clean it as a way of taking my mind off of my next task. The man didn't say anything, and I was too afraid to turn around for fear that he would catch me glance at him.

He cleared his throat.

"Oh wow," He exclaimed suddenly, "I just realized that I had forgotten to make the proper introductions the entire time you were here. Please excuse me, my name is Benny Portichino. Just call me Ben."

Ben sounded a little embarrassed saying this, and I heard a hint of an Italian accent when he told me his name.
"I'm Katherine," I replied hoping that I sounded friendly. Roxanne had told me in the past that I had a tendency to sound impassive and cold when I didn't really feel like talking to someone, so I put on my most cheerful voice, complete with the smile and everything.

"Nice to meet you," he said from behind me.

Silence.

I heard Ben shuffle around a bit before he took a deep breath, and said what he'd been holding back since he'd entered the room.

"You're not a cleaning lady,"

He didn't pose this as a question. It was a statement that left little room for argument. I paused my ministrations and turned to look at him questioningly.

"I'm sorry?" I asked quietly.

Ben walked towards me slowly. "You're not a cleaning lady," he repeated, "Your purpose here isn't to clean anything is what I'm saying," He kept getting closer to me, "No maid would be dressed as sexily as you are. At least . . ." Ben chuckled darkly as he backed me up into the cabinet

"Not one that actually cleans anything,"

Ben put both arms beside each side of my head, trapping me. He gazed at me with a predator-like look in his eyes; as if he were a hungry cat that had caught its first mouse . . .