Swan Song by Tracey Ward

doing it. It’s better, more exciting.
    Scarier.
    “Adrian,” he growls, warning me not to ignore him.
    “What?” I breathe, trying to focus.
    “Answer me. Do you like how I make you feel?”
    I watch him in amazement, noticing for the first time how his demeanor changes in moments like this. How different he is when he’s alone with me compared to how he is with his boys. The way his speech shifts, becoming more eloquent.
    Some part of Tommy is an act. I just don’t know which one.
    “Yes.”
    He nods. “Do you want to feel even better?”
    “Yes,” I whisper.
    “Ask me.”
    “More.”
    “No,” he scolds. He withdraws his hand, leaving me feeling cold. Unfulfilled. “I didn’t say tell me, I said ask me.”
    I glare at him, and I hate the look I see on his face.
    Power. Control. Dominance. This is what it’s always like with him, with all the mobsters. They want control over everything they see and I refuse to play that game. I don’t care how unsatisfied I am. I’d rather have my pride than a moment of bliss that will leave me with nothing.
    I shove his hand aside and slip off the desk, smoothing my skirt and erasing the feel of his fingers from my skin.
    “No, thanks,” I tell him.
    “Really?” he asks, obviously amused by my act. “You sure you feel alright?”
    I turn to smile at him with my brighter-than-the-city-lights stage smile that’s so much whiskey I feel drunk off it. “I’m swell.”
    I slam the door behind me as I leave, staggering slightly down the hall and cursing myself with every step.
    Whatever has gotten into me, it needs to get out. Otherwise, I’m a goner.
     
     
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    As much as I don’t care for the holidays, I’m grateful when Ralph gives me an extra night off at the start of December as an early Christmas present. It comes out of nowhere, and I think it might be in part because Tommy knows I’m not feeling right. Even if that’s the truth, I need the break from the club.  A break from the booze, the bright lights, and most of all from Tommy himself.
    We went too far the other day. In hind sight, I can’t believe I let him touch me like that. I also can’t believe how badly I want him to do it again. How much farther I’m dying to go with him, though I know I’d rather it was someone else. Someone who told me to take a hike, a reality that stings every time I think about it, and that sting is making me weak.
    “How are you feelin’, Aid?” Rosaline calls from the kitchen.
    “Better, thanks. No headaches, no dizziness.”
    “You must be on the mend,” Lucy says happily. “I’m glad none of us caught whatever bug you had.”
    Alice snorts. “Speak for yourself! I had a killer headache yesterday. I even threw up.”
    “But you’re better today?” I ask her, frowning. I didn’t know she had felt sick.
    “I feel great now.”
    “Well, I’m happy most of us didn’t get sick,” Lucy says, bumping hips with Rosaline. “Are you guys ready to eat?”
    We all reply at once, talking over each other and hurrying toward the food.
    “Always!”
    “I’m starved.”
    “Finally!”
    We pile in around our tiny kitchen table that’s loaded dangerously with mounds of food, all of it discounted Thanksgiving leftovers we sweet talked from the grocer on the corner. Mashed potatoes, a meager turkey that will happily feed us all, gravy, biscuits, and some kind of pie that Lucy made. I don’t care what it is, I’ll eat it if she made it.
    “Should we say grace?” Lucy asks, offering her hand to Rosaline and I on either side of her.
    I hear Alice snort but I ignore her, along with everyone else. “Yeah, Luce. You head it up, alright?”
    We bow our heads and close our eyes as Lucy clears her throat. “Dear, Heavenly Father, we thank you for the bounty that we are about to receive. May you bless it to our bodies and give us strength. Strength in our bodies and in our spirits. And we ask you to be with those less fortunate