7: Rupert

The night was supposed to be perfect.

Tasha had spent an hour getting ready. She pressed her hair, made sure her makeup was flawless, and her tight burgundy dress was hugging her figure in all the right places.

It was their two-year anniversary, and Rupert had promised to take her to a fancy dinner. But now they were far from anything romantic, parked on a dangerous street outside a shady club in the worst part of town. Parts where no police or soldiers would dare go.

He had told her they just needed to make a quick stop.

It had been fifteen minutes since he left her inside the vehicle alone.

"Jesus Christ! Rupert," she whispered to herself, gripping the edge of her seat as a group of men leaned against a fence nearby, guns slung casually over their shoulders.

They watched the car like it was a snack, and her, the main course. One of them licked his lips and yelled, "Browning, yuh look good fi deh inna di car alone! Come here, baby. Come let mi put yuh on a backshot!" (Nice Girl, you look too good to be in that car alone. Come here, baby. Come and let me give you some doggy style.)

She ignored him, fingers trembling as she dialed Rupert's number again. Ringing. Then voicemail. Again.

"Where the hell are you?" she muttered, teeth clenched.

The club door opened, and a burst of noise and smoke escaped. Rupert had vanished into that building like it was a normal Tuesday. He hadn't even looked back.

She tapped her phone angrily, switching to messages.

Tasha: Rupert. I'm getting scared out here. Call me.

Tasha: Why would you bring me here on our anniversary?

Tasha: You said dinner.

She watched as the last message sat unread. Three gray checkmarks, no blue.

Her breath came in shallow gasps. She glanced at the glove compartment, half-expecting something useful like pepper spray, a knife, anything. But all that was in there was a pack of gum, his insurance card. And condoms?

But they weren't having sex. Anyway, she shook it off, too focused on the horror around her.

Inside the club, Rupert sat like a man in control. The room was a haze of ganja smoke, dancehall bass, and bad intentions. He leaned back against a velvet booth, expensive chains glinting under the low lights. Across from him, two men nursed rum and lit spliffs, their laughter edged with menace.

"Ay, Rupert," the darker one called, flicking ash on the floor. "Mi cyaah believe yuh still nah fuck di girl yet. Two years and no pussy? Mi woulda done breed dat and lef." (I can't believe you still haven't fucked that girl yet. Two years and no pussy? I would have gotten her pregnant and made her a single mother.)

Rupert chuckled, licking his lips. "Mi soon marry har, man. Then mi aguh shove mi cock dung har throat mek she lose har breath. Gal look innocent but mi know she love big tings." (I'll marry her soon. Then I'm gonna shove my cock so far down her throat, she'll be gasping for air. She may look innocent, but I know she loves big things.)

The men exploded in laughter.

"Bomboclaat dawg, yuh a real savage," one of them choked between drags of smoke. "Yuh need fi put her pon camera, mek we see wah gwaan." (Fuck, Dawg, you're a real savage. You need to fuck her on camera so we can see what’s up.)

"Mi might do dat," Rupert grinned. "She too damn proper, but mi aguh break her in. Once mi get the ring on, she's mine. Forever." (I might just do that. She's too damn proper, but I’ll break her in. Once she wears my ring, she's mine. Forever.)

Outside, Tasha's stomach turned. She couldn't hear him, but she felt it; something wasn't right. The place reeked of danger, of secrets. The heat inside the car grew suffocating.

She cracked the window just a bit, but the same man called out again.

"Yow, sweetheart! Yuh ready for this?" he asked, thrusting his crotch at her. "I know you want di long bamboo."

Her heart pounded. She locked the doors. Again.

That was it. She wasn't waiting anymore.

She dialed her cousin.

"Hello?" Debby's voice was laced with curiosity and alarm.

"Debs," Tasha said, her voice shaking. "I need you to come get me. Please."

"Wait! What happen? Weh yuh deh?" (Where are you?)

Tasha rattled off the name of the club and the street, trying not to cry.

"Girl, yuh mad? What yuh doing down there?! That place full of bad man and crackhead! Who yuh there wid?" (Are you mad girl? What are you doing down there? That place is filled with bad men and crackheads! Who are you there with?”

"Rupert."

Debby went silent for a beat. "Yuh sure him not selling drugs?"

"I—I don't know what he's doing, Debby. He said we were going to dinner. Then he brought me here. He's inside some club and won't answer his phone. The men out here got guns. They keep looking at me."

"Don't move. Mi coming right now."

"Debby—"

Click.

Debby was already gone.

Since Debby didn't have a car, she rushed over to the villa where Chris was staying and begged him to come with her. Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys.

Tasha stared at the phone, a small relief flooding her chest, but it did nothing to ease the weight of dread settling deeper into her gut. Her fingers clenched in her lap. She hated this. Hated feeling small, disposable, scared.

Inside the club, Rupert's voice got louder, more boastful. "Mi not even love her like dat. But she got this look... like she never been touched by nobody. Mi love corrupt the likkle innocent gyal dem." (I don't even love her like that. But she got this look... like she has never been touched before and you all know I just love to corrupt these little innocent gals.)

"Bwoy, you a real monster," the light-skinned one laughed. "Mi respect it. Just mek sure she don't find out, or yuh going sleep inna yuh car fi weeks." (Boy, you're a real monster. I respect it. Just make sure she doesn't find out what you're up to, or you'll be sleeping in your car for weeks.)

"Nah man," Rupert grinned. "Me run tings. She sweet and dumb. Easy fi control."

Back in the car, Tasha's phone buzzed.

It was a voice note from Debby.

She clicked it.

"Mi deh pon mi way. Yuh betta stay put, and if any man touch dat door, scream like yuh mother dead. And if Rupert come back, don't say nothing." (I'm on my way. Stay put and if any of those men touch your door, scream like your mother has died. And if Rupert comes back, don't say anything.)

Tasha exhaled a shaky breath. She leaned her head against the window, the cool glass grounding her just a little.

The music inside the club thumped through the walls like a monster heartbeat. She watched the front door, willing Rupert to come back out, but now she didn't want him to. She didn't want to see his face.

A shadow shifted outside her window. Her heart leapt.

But it wasn't one of the gunmen.

It was Chris's car screeching to a stop across the street, Debby in the passenger seat like a one-woman rescue squad.

Tasha flung the door open, ignoring the catcalls, and ran. Debby threw her door open.

"Tasha! GET YOUR ASS IN!"

Tasha jumped in, slammed the door shut, and only then allowed herself to cry.

Chris peeled off with a squeal of tires, and Debby stuck her middle finger out the window to the men on the block.

They didn't even chase. Just laughed.

"Tell me everything," Debby said as they turned the corner and left the nightmare behind.

Tasha wiped her eyes. "I think Rupert's... not who I thought he was."

"Babes," Debby said, jaw tight. "After tonight, I think Rupert is a whole demon in a man's suit."

They drove in silence for a moment. The night air cooled her skin, but her heart was still burning.

Somewhere behind them, in that club, Rupert was laughing with men who talked about women like meat, saying things about her that made her skin crawl.

But he didn't know yet.

He didn't know that tonight, everything had changed.