by T L Bradford
As I look up in the mirror while I’m brushing my teeth, I can see Noah’s reflection from the bedroom. He can’t tell I’m watching him from this angle. He leans over to my pillow and grabs it to his chest like a lover; then he proceeds to smell it thoroughly, rubbing it against his nose and cheek. I swear, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen him do. I don’t want to embarrass him, so I say nothing. I take my shower, and when I get out, I go to the steamy mirror and draw a large heart that says Josh loves Noah on the inside. The next time he takes a shower, he will see the message magically appear.
It sounds so primal, but I almost didn’t want to shower because it would remove his scent from my body. I’m addicted to everything about him. It’s like I’m on sensory overload.
We have to resurface sometime, so I’m taking the reins today. In our cuddle sessions, we’ve been watching the Food Network. I’m feeling inspired to make a romantic meal for Noah since he cooks for me all the time. I’m also no fool, so I need to start early in case I need to order a backup meal to pass off as mine. It’s already past noon.
I poke my head out of the bathroom, “You’re running a couple of errands today, right?”
“Yeah, do you need something? Make a list of anything you need for tonight, and I can get it for you.”
“Thanks, baby.” He grins, dimple on full display.
Two hours later, I am deep in the midst of a risotto gone wrong. I should have just stuck to the basics. I can make tacos. That’s my jam. Anything more than that, and we’re talking about a potential visit from the fire department. I call Noah to have him pick up an extra few items while he’s out.
“I just left the store, are you sure you can’t do without it? I’m out anyway. I can pick up something to eat that’s easy. It’s not a big deal. All I want to do is crawl back into bed with you, anyway.”
“You’ll need sustenance for what I have planned tonight.”
“Josh Hill…now you have my interest. What are we talking about here?”
“You’ll see when you get here; just get your butt home.”
BANG. BANG. BANG.
I jump when I hear the loud noise coming from the front of the house. “Are you expecting anyone?” I ask Noah.
“No, it’s probably one of those damn reporters. Just yell out to them that they are on private property, and you’ll call the cops if they don’t leave.”
I take a peek at the security camera. It’s just a FedEx delivery person. “No, it’s not a reporter. It’s FedEx. Did you order something?”
“I don’t think so. It could be from my mom. You know how she’s always sending me things she makes in her pottery class.”
“It looks like a really big box, anyway, let me go answer this. See you in a little while. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up with Noah and answer the door. An older man, maybe in his late 40’s, early 50s, stands there with a clipboard in his hands. I thought it was FedEx, but it’s from a local delivery service. It strikes me that at his advancing years, he probably can’t keep doing this job for long.
“Hey there, I have a package for Noah Sinclair. Would you mind signing here, please?” He has a brilliant smile.
“Sure, no problem.” I take the clipboard. “You don’t see clipboards like this much nowadays; I’m too used to signing with my finger.”
“We’re one of the few mom and pop shops left in the area. Hey, you look familiar. I think I’ve seen you somewhere,” he stops to stare at me, so long it starts to make me slightly uncomfortable. I’m still working my way into the fame thing and being recognized on the street by strangers.
“I’m an actor, I’ve been in a few shows. You may recognize me from there.”
“Oh, yeah…hold up, wait! I got it, some show about Americans, right?” He appears to recall something that it seems he already knew.
“Yeah, you got it.”
“Doing this type of job, now and then I luck out and end up at a Hollywood star’s house. One time I got to meet Mr. Charlton Heston in person. Must have been back in `93, or was it `94?” He’s looking over my shoulder into the house as he speaks. I’m ready to wrap this up with the guy.
“Is there anything else you need from me?” I interject before he can continue.
“Nope, got your autograph here. Joshua Hill. You’re the guy in that video, aren’t you?”
“What?” I feign dumbness.
“Yep, that’s it. That Noah guy is your boyfriend, right?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I was in the middle of cooking. I need to get back and check my meal. You can leave the package here.”
“Sure, no problem. The big Hollywood star is probably busy. Take care.” He smiles widely then walks off of the property. I stay inside and wait until I see the van leave the property. That was kind of weird. People will do crazy things to see celebrities sometimes. You have to be so careful nowadays.
I drag the box inside and contemplate opening it before he gets home. Then, deciding not to pry, I set it over by the couch. It’s definitely not from his mother. It’s huge, taller than me, and heavy.
I hear an alarm go off in the kitchen. What the hell? Then I run into the kitchen to see what happened. It’s the smoke detector. I’ve burned the onions I was supposed to sauté for our meal. GRRRRR. This is why I don’t cook.
Another hour goes by, and Noah’s not home yet. I send him a text.
3:34 pm
“Where are you? I’m going to put the casserole in the oven since it’s getting a little late.”–Josh
3:40 pm
“I have a flat on the Jeep. Sorry. I’ll be there in a little while.”–Noah
5:20 pm
“It’s been almost two hours, what’s going on? Are you okay? Do you need me to come to get you?”–Josh
5:45 pm
“Waiting on AAA. Taking forever.”–Noah
5:46 pm
“I thought you had a spare?”–Josh
5:50 pm
“It’s also flat. Weird.”–Noah
5:55 pm
“Did they give you an ETA?”–Josh
6:05 pm
“I think I see them now.”–Noah
This date night has been a disaster. Since I didn’t have the rest of the ingredients, I tried to substitute. That was the worst idea I ever had. Now, the risotto is gummy and the sauce for the ravioli tastes like ketchup. I burned the French bread. My only saving grace is the casserole. I put it back in the oven since it sounds like Noah will finally be on his way home.
To calm my nerves, I set the table. I put out a nice bottle of red and assemble the salad. As I tear the lettuce apart, I catch something moving on the monitor out of the corner of my eye. It was a brief shadow, but it sets my internal alarm off. It must be one of those reporters trying to spy on us. I swear they have no respect at all for people’s privacy.
I check the monitors around the property again, and I don’t see anyone on the grounds. I guess they could be hiding just off camera in a blind spot. I move the position of the cameras around to see if I catch anything that looks off, but everything looks okay.
Noah keeps a small can of mace around in case of an emergency. I pick it up and set it out on the counter. I’m extra cautious today ever since the delivery guy dropped by.
I hear a small thump from upstairs. Then, thinking I hear a floorboard creak, I reluctantly go upstairs with my mace. Shit! Noah’s not here, and I have to make sure no one is in the house. I sneak upstairs quietly and go into each of the rooms, but I find no one.
I decide I’m being paranoid. It may have been Lola, roaming around the house. I go to the living room to see if she is there. True to form, Lola is lying in her box seat by the living room window staring at me disinterestedly. I’m on high alert, but I go back to prepping the salad and setting the table. I turn on my iPad to watch a YouTube video on food prep when I hear a sound from one of the back rooms. It sounds like a door softly shutting close
d.
“Noah? Are you back, baby?”
I check the monitors again. His Jeep is not in the driveway. I see no one. I almost turn around to go back to my video, having not found anything, but something gets my attention on one of the monitors. There is a figure in shadow on the back porch that was not there before. It’s hard to tell in the dark; it could be a potted plant or something. I look out the back window by the living room and see what caught my attention on the monitor. It’s not a potted plant. It’s a cross. It stands about 8 feet tall. What the fuck?
Panicked now, I look out the window frantically, trying to see who could be out there. It’s completely quiet. I’ve seen too many movies to know you shouldn’t run out and investigate something strange happening outside your house, so I run back to the kitchen and look for my phone to call Noah and the police. Only when I go into the kitchen, my phone is not on the counter. I know I left it there. Jesus, there’s no landline phone in the house that I know of so I cannot get a call out. I freeze when I hear noises coming from outside on the backyard patio. Actually, it’s not a noise so much, as it sounds like singing. No, not even that, chanting maybe? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! There are people outside the house! How was that even possible? Where were they hiding?
I run into the living room to grab Lola and my keys so I can run out of the house when I see several orange orbs light up on the back porch. Five people are standing out there with lanterns. They look older, in their 50s and 60s. Three men, two women. They are dressed in very simple clothes with no adornments at all on their persons.
I’m not trying to stick around and find out what they want, so I head to the front door with Lola under my arm. Before my hand makes it to the knob, I am struck on the back of my head, hard, from behind. I crash to the floor. Lola falls from my arms. I’m woozy, but still able to crawl. I make it to the back of the sofa when I see the box that was delivered earlier today. It has been torn open. In my hazy mind, I realize that the cross was what had been delivered to the house. I’d been set up.
I place my hand on the back of my head and feel warm heat on the back of my neck. It is blood running down the collar of my shirt. I’m very dizzy and not sure how much blood I have lost. I still try to stand to escape, but into my line of sight is a familiar face — the delivery man from earlier. In his hand, he holds a bloody crowbar.
“Why…why are you doing this to me?” I ask him.
“God punishes the wicked. We are his helpers.”
He raises the crowbar above his shoulder and swings again at me. I try to deflect his swing with my hands. This time the blow lands across my right side and gets my ribs. I hear a loud crack. My mind keeps trying to lose consciousness, but I’m scared of what he will do to me if I lose control.
Someone grabs my arms and starts dragging me, then someone else helps, holding my ankles. I’m being swung back and forth like a human hammock. A cool evening breeze hits my skin alerting me that I have been brought outside. I am dropped unceremoniously on the back porch in front of the cross.
I try to get up, but I am pushed back down. Someone out of my view is using something to hold me down. When I’m able to focus, I see it’s a long stick of wood — a staff.
They all make a semi-circle around me and join hands. The man holding me down with the staff addresses them directly, quoting bible references.
“If there is a man who lies with a male as those who lie with a woman, both of them have committed a detestable act.–Leviticus 20:13.”
“For this reason, God gave them over to degrading passions; for their women exchanged the natural function for that which is unnatural, and in the same way also the men abandoned the natural function of the woman and burned in their desire toward one another, men with men committing indecent acts and receiving in their own persons the due penalty of their error”. -Romans 1:26-27.”
“You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination. - Leviticus 18:22.”
“If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall be put to death; their blood is upon them. Leviticus 20:13.”
“These words are the wishes of our just Lord. It is our duty as children of God to obey,” he says.
Each of his followers says a muted amen. The delivery guy hands them each a small crude tool. A brief prayer is spoken, then they approach me. I frantically try to scurry away, using every last bit of my strength to pull myself away from these crazy zealots.
The first blow nearly does me in. I get knocked backward and laid out flat on my back. I have taken a bat to the head. I feel like I can’t move my lower- body, but my arms still move. I attempt to cover my face when I see a woman with a hammer come at me. She gets my arm. I hear a crack again. With no visible remorse on their faces whatsoever, each person rains blows down on my body. They kick me in the groin, spit on me, and batter me all over with their weapons. I am only partially conscious when I feel myself being picked up under my armpits. By this point, my body has gone numb. I no longer feel the pain and aches from their assault.
Two of the men hoist me up and bind my arms to a scratchy surface. My arms are splayed wide and my feet bound. They suspend me. My body aches under its own weight. Two silver-green orbs staring back at me are the last thing I remember. I hear the air slicing and see a glint of steel before my head explodes. I would swear I’d seen a wolf.
Chapter 45
Noah
“That will be fifty-seven dollars,” the cashier tells me. I reach back and take the card out of my wallet to pay. I’m running late, but I wanted to get something special for Josh. No handbook tells you what kind of flowers to get your boyfriend. I’d been standing there for a while trying to decide what he would like best. I went with a dozen cream-colored roses. I think he’ll get a kick out of that. He’s such a romantic.
I’m floating on cloud nine. If anyone had told me I’d be this happy after coming out, I surely would have done this sooner. The cast and crew were so supportive, giving us our time to be alone and sort it out.
Josh and I have been living in a love bubble. Just to leave the house today was a chore. I can’t bear being away from him. He plans to make me a fancy dinner, but I know better. I have a backup meal in the basket for when it doesn’t turn out right.
Candles, wine, flowers and a tiramisu cake I got from the bakery, complete our date needs. I get to the Jeep and put the cake box in the back seat. Something is off though; the Jeep looks unbalanced. Glancing down at my tires, I see they are all flat. I bend under the Jeep to check out the damage and see large holes in each of the tires. They look like they were stabbed with maybe an icepick of some sort. I look around the parking lot, trying to see if anyone is watching me. Sonofabitch. Who the hell would do this? Is this retaliation for the video? Josh is going to freak. I check my phone and see he has left me another text message from a little while ago. I tell him I have a flat but don’t mention someone maliciously slashed all my tires. The last thing I want is for him to worry.
Out of options, I call AAA to tow the Jeep. It must be a popular night for mishaps because the wait takes forever. Josh will be so disappointed I screwed this up. After a couple of hours, I see the tow truck.
I send him a message to let him know I will be late, and that I am being dropped off at the shop. I know he must be royally pissed by now. He doesn’t answer right away, so I assume he’s either burning food or in a pissy mood over my lateness. I send him another message once we arrive. No answer.
Times like this, I’m grateful for my celebrity status, it gets me bumped to the head of the line. I pay out a hefty sum to get the tires replaced. It was only a few weeks ago the Jeep was in this same shop for bodywork resulting from the accident. This place is making bank off me alone.
I check my phone again — still no message from Josh. I go outside and call him, then try to Facetime. Nothing, and as I review my past texts to him, I see that he had not viewed my last message from a while ago saying I was in the to
w truck on my way to the Jeep shop.
A feeling of dread comes over me. Someone deliberately damaged my Jeep. Maybe someone was trying to mess with us. It’s unlike Josh not to return a text, especially when he’s worried about me. I keep calling, but no answer. I try to be rational. Did he leave to get the ingredients himself?
I use my phone app to log into the security cameras. His car is still there. The lights are on in the house. I switch cameras until I get to the backyard. It’s dark so I cannot see anything clearly. What I do see is a strange looking shadow. It can’t be what I think it is though. It must be a shadow from a tree or a telephone pole outside.
The second they hand me my keys, I take off for home. I hook up my Bluetooth to keep calling Josh. No answer. I’m almost halfway home when I see my phone light up with a text message. I let out a sigh of relief. Only it doesn’t last long because the message isn’t from Josh.
“Brothers will turn against their own brothers and give them to be killed. Fathers will turn against their own children and give them to be killed. Children will fight against their own parents and find ways for their parents to be killed.”
— Mark 13:12
I don’t recognize the number, but I know exactly who it is from.
When I enter the house, I notice the acrid smell of something burning. “Josh! Where are you! Josh!” I dash frantically from room to room. I go into the kitchen and see smoke pouring out of the oven. I turn it off. It was his casserole. I’m in pure terror mode now. I run upstairs to our bedroom to see if he is there. He’s not. I bang on the bathroom door and fling it open. Nothing, he’s not there. I run back down the stairs and into the living room.
I remember I saw something outside on the porch and dash outside. It’s murkily dark. I don’t get far when my foot slips out from under me. I land, crashing on my backside. When I go to push myself up, I feel damp, sticky liquid on my hands. I look down and see blood. Only it’s not my blood. My stomach drops when I look up.
