Hell's Kitchen by Lili St Germain, Callie Hart Page B

he does every goddamn day. Cut your hair, Sal. Turn this shitty music off, Sal. Change your ringtone, Sal . Shit. Maybe I should set the mopey bastard up with Scarlett. They could talk about their mutual hatred of my music choices while I bash their heads together.
    Or maybe they can all just suck my dick, because I’m tired and hung over as fuck, and I’m pretty sure that smell is from Katya pissing in my bed.
    “I’ve been busy,” I say calmly. The rage that burns inside my chest is punctuated by my brother’s heavy breathing, Scarlett’s insolent stare, Katya’s sexual pleadings and the moaning of two porn stars on the fifty-inch screen that hangs on my bedroom wall.
    “Are you … screwing someone right now?” Theo asks, his voice rising with each word until he’s yelling. “Are you screwing Kaitlin right now?!”
    I grind my teeth together as I raise my gun and shoot the fucking TV. It explodes in an impressive shower of sparks and glass. That’s gonna be a bitch for my cleaner to get out of the carpet.
    “No,” I say. “I’m not.”
    Katya starts moaning, tipping her head back as she widens her legs, her shaved pussy soaking wet as it contracts around the buzzing vibrator I jammed in there several hours ago.
    “I’m coming again!” Katya moans, her breathing loud and uneven as her eyes roll back in her dumb head. She looks like she’s having more fun than me right now, though. My head feels like it’s gonna fucking explode, just like the TV screen.
    “Sal …” Theo growls.
    “Hang on,” I say tightly, hitting the mute button and setting the phone down on my nightstand. I stalk into my bathroom, grabbing a hand towel from the neat pile my maid has arranged for me. Returning to the bedroom, I avoid Scarlett’s stare as I reach between Katya’s legs and pull out the vibrator. It makes a wet slurping noise as it comes out, and I grimace as I use another part of the towel to switch the thing off, tossing it in the trash basket in my bathroom.
    Katya pants heavily, looking at me through far too much mascara and smudged eyeliner. Her red lipstick is smeared across her face, and I thank Christ that I had a good long shower this morning and scrubbed the bright red rings off my cock.
    Colorstay lipstick is hot, but not when it won’t wash off your balls.
    I clear my throat awkwardly as I start undoing the ropes that secure Katya to my massive bed. She’s been spread-eagled for at least two hours, maybe more. I mean, I left her here, went to the restaurant, got the car sorted with Theo, picked up those Irish bitches, totalled the car (thanks Theo), lost the girls, found Scarlett, and carjacked a cab driver.
    And all the while, Katya was having orgasms tied to my bed. Poor thing , I think sarcastically. Wish I could switch my fucking morning with hers. Multiple orgasms doesn’t sound too shoddy right now, faced with the very real possibility that I might be dead by nightfall.
    I think of last night, of coming down Katya’s throat and all over her face, my dick a little sad that it might not never fuck again. Since, you know, I’ll be buried in Bleecker Gardens in a couple hours at the rate things are going.
    “I can’t believe you left me here,” Katya says.
    I raise my eyebrows at her. “You told me to leave you here.”
    “I thought you were running to Starbucks!” she repeats.
    “You should really get her a latte or something,” Scarlett pipes up from her spot in the corner. “Caffeine withdrawal is a bitch.”
    “Yeah,” I say, undoing the last knot on Katya’s ankle. “Almost as bad as alcohol withdrawal, right?”
    Her mouth forms a tight line, and I can tell I’ve pissed her off.
    Good.
    Dun dun dundundundun dundundun …
    Fuck! Theo’s hung up and re-dialled. I snatch the phone up, answering it again. “I’m dealing with a fucking situation here!” I yell.
    “You leave the phone now ?” Theo screeches, so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. Out of the corner