They moved forward, joining the words she uttered from the ground, stopping with the tips of their toes touching her. Eli’s brow furrowed, wondering what they were doing. The man on the end turned, eyes closed, facing the building. To be sure the man didn’t see him, Eli took a half step back into the gloom along the wall. The man’s cock saluted the sky, and his twisted face gave the impression he held back an orgasm. The other men stroked their cocks, never missing a word in their chant.
The one who had turned around, squatted over the woman. A spurting sound erupted, then he spun back to face east. Excrement trailed down his slim thighs. Eli wrinkled his nose in disgust.
The man began working his manhood as the others continued their manipulations. The remaining acolytes took turns, turning away from the woman on the ground, squatting to release their bowels, then facing her again; feces ran down their bare legs same as the first. When the last had finished his deed, they stroked themselves faster. A groan erupted from them simultaneously, and they quivered, out of breath, heads tilted to the heavens. Eli’s jaw dropped, disbelieving what he had witnessed.
Standing, she turned, facing east with the others. They silently shaped a single file line with her closest to the stump, and the center acolyte closest the building. In rehearsed steps, they walked backward to the house, gazing at the jar. The candles remained flickering on the ground.
Eli’s stomach churned, but not loud enough to draw their attention. He was relieved he couldn’t see her from his angle, but he imagined her covered in the acolytes’ shit. The door clicked shut, and Eli peeked around the corner; the door was solid without a peep-hole. He dashed across the yard, careful not to disturb the candles or step in anything, and took the jar, continuing his run to the alley at the back of the yard.
He turned right, without slowing his pace. Briefly, he glanced side to side when he approached the highway. No cars rumbled in the distance. He continued running in the night until he reached his vehicle parked behind the restaurant. Panting, he leaned against it, staring at the jar. He didn’t know what was inside the jar—the contents were dark with a filmy liquid covering the surface—but he had a good idea. Looking toward the alley with his ears alert for the slightest sound, he unscrewed the lid.
“Are you kidding me!?” he yelled, replacing the lid to keep the vile stench inside. “A jar of shit? Really?”
He carefully put the jar into the Dumpster near the back door of the restaurant. He heard their merriment inside, making his heart lighten knowing they were enjoying themselves. They’d be hurting when they woke in the morning, but they didn’t care, they were having a grand time.
The sun brought awkward peace, it was Saturday, and oddly, nothing was done then. For a moment, he considered joining the small party, though he needed to get home and clear his mind. Finally deciding he wasn’t going to be the best company with the events of the last few hours whirring in his mind, he sat behind the wheel of his car.
His father had warned him to stay as far away as possible; too bad his curiosity got the better of him tonight, he’d seen things, he wished he hadn’t. He jumped into his car and drove away.
Belphegor stood near the open wall of the theater glaring at Eli, arms crossed on his chest. How dare he take his gift? The devoted had left it for him, no one else. The chef was turning out to be a liability, like his father, Ezra—keeping the block closed was the least of his sins against him. He meddled in everything, spouting his knowledge. He had been blessed with insight and had passed everything he knew to his son.
He shook his head. Maybe, he’d read too much into tonight. The man might have stumbled upon the celebration by mistake. His brow furrowed. “No, he hadn’t been there by chance,” he muttered.
Either way, it didn’t matter, Eli was the least of his problems and the easiest to take care of by sending the best chef in the State back to his father’s ranch where he belonged before he tried anything more.
“Oh, Eli, you won’t stop me,” he whispered, approaching the Dumpster. He wrinkled his nose, removing the jar from the debris inside. Brushing it off, he continued, “Your father never did, and you definitely won’t stop me.”
He vanished into the shadows of the theater. The stairs leading to the basement had been removed, but their absence was no obstacle. He stepped on the void without a thought, and as though the stairs remained he took a step at a time until he reached the rubble-strewn floor below.
The blue fire burned through the darkness, illuminating his way. The apparitions stayed a respectful distance from him as he made his way through the maze of rooms and hallways filled with forgotten furniture and clothing. He wished to have access to the tunnel, but Eli’s father had sealed it many years ago; the only time the man had set foot on the property.
It was only a matter of time before Tyler found it, and made sure it stayed open. Reaching his destination (the abandoned coal hold below the sidewalk hugging the northern wall of the hotel), he opened the door. The room was darker than any other in the lower quarters of his domain—the perfect place to store his gifts.
His gaze blazed around the vestibule filled with jars of all sizes stacked to the ceiling. The contents of some had been meager, while others had been filled to the rim; it didn’t matter the quantity, it was the thought which counted.
The gifts had come less frequently in the past decades. Still he was satisfied there were still those who remembered him and wished to please him.
Of course, he returned their adoration with gifts of his own; secrets of opulence. Too bad most failed as they had tried to rush through the steps. The few who had succeeded had reached unfathomable limits, and when they perished, returned to him, waiting to continue their service.
He placed the jar on a stack, which had reached the ceiling, then turned toward the window in his room. After Cody woke tomorrow, he would divulge all to him. Something a few had been privy, and hopefully, the last to know. The others hadn’t been strong enough. But he knew in his heart, Cody was the one.
Chapter Twenty-Four
And cover not their iniquity, and let not their sin be blotted out from before thee: for they have provoked thee to anger before the builders.
Nehemiah 4:5, KJV
Tyler sat up. The French doors were slid wide open to the living room, blasting light through his skull. He squeezed his eyelids shut in defense, then wearily opened them to a squint. Jen snored softly next to him.
The longer he sat, the more his head throbbed. He wasn’t sure what woke him, but it wasn’t a good time to be awake. Laying back, he heard the floor in the living room squeak near the door leading to the lobby. He wondered whether someone knocking at the door had awoken him.
Carefully, not to disturb Jen, he slid out of bed, stumbled through the wad of his clothes on the floor to stop at the threshold. He peered toward the front door. With relief, he saw it was closed. His gaze dropped to the space under the door but saw no shadow on the polished floor. Jen turned in bed. He glanced back at her still asleep.
His head began to spin when he turned from the door toward the bathroom. Bracing himself on the wall, he slowly made his way through the dressing room to the bathroom. Knowing he wasn’t going to make aim, he sat on the cold, porcelain seat. From the hallway beyond the closed door came creaking. He forced his head up, glaring at the door.
It occurred to him Cody must be up as well, and he said, “One sec, bro, almost done.”
No answer came from the other side of the door. He stood from the toilet and took the few steps to the door. Grasping the cold, brass knob, he pulled the door open. No one there and Cody’s door stood open.
He snuck down the hall. Cody lay face down on the bed, still clothed, with one foot over the edge of the mattress, but no one else was there. Turning, the light from the kitchen windows attempted to blind him. He forced his way in with a puckered face.
The cyan numbers displayed on the microwave told him it was 1:30 PM. He grunted, wishing he hadn’t seen the time.
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The banging in his head had softened since he woke. Coffee was in order. Forgetting the creaking, he poured the water into the machine, then waited, leaning against the counter without considering returning to the bedroom to dress. The machine gurgled the last of the water through the coffee grounds.
Pouring coffee, a giggle from the hallway shook him. The hot liquid splattered on the counter, splashing tiny hot drops on his skin.
Almost dropping the pot, he looked over his shoulder at a jubilant girl staring at him. The glass carafe fell from his hand, landing on the counter. The lid popped off and the coffee sloshed over the brim, stinging his hand and abdomen, but not farther down where a burn could be uncomfortable. And it didn’t break.
Swinging around, not caring about Cody and Jen still sleeping, he yelled, “What are you doing in here?”
Her smile enlarged, stepping into the kitchen. She didn’t look him in the eye but stared at his nakedness. He snatched the towel lying on the counter to cover his genitals. His broad shoulders and biceps quivered with the quick movement.
“He must be more impressive when you’re playing.” She looked him in the eye. “He wants you to go upstairs.” She pointed to the ceiling.
“What? Why?” He looked to where she pointed.
“Dunno. He gave me a note to give you, but I wanted to see the apartment, so I came in. I haven’t been in here forever. The mean old lady never let me come in. You haven’t changed anything.”
He stared at her, the shock of her presence disappearing. His heart slowed. The redness on his face and neck faded. His eyebrows raised, and he asked, “Where is it?”
She shrugged. “It didn’t say anything else. You shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
She turned on her heel and pushed through the swinging door to the dining room. He rubbed his face with the towel, wondering what Mr. Bel wanted to discuss with him on a Saturday.
Heart thumping, he bolted toward the swinging door. He still wanted to know how she got into the apartment; he’d seen the deadbolt’s knob had been turned to the locked position. In the few seconds, he had stood in the kitchen, she had already left the apartment, which was strange because he hadn’t heard the front door. He glanced around the dining room, poked his head into the hallway; she wasn’t there.
Returning to the kitchen, he took a sip of coffee, shaking his head at what had spilled on the counter. He didn’t bother cleaning it up; he needed to dress for his meeting with Mr. Bel.
Quietly, he made his way down the hall, looking to see whether the excitement had disturbed Cody.
Dressed in what he’d worn the night before, he went upstairs. Shadows rushed toward him from beneath the door, pooling around his bare feet. He swallowed, then rapped on the door three times. The door swung in. Mr. Bel stood sentry at the window.
Tyler entered, and Mr. Bel turned his head when the door had closed. He wasn’t his usual smiles and happy to see him; he seemed upset. Tyler’s skin itched, waiting for the man to tell him why he’d requested to see him.
After an extended pause, he spoke. “It seems I’ve made a mistake.”
“I don’t—”
“Hold on. Let me finish.” His poise was stiff. “I entrusted you with a lot, I know. Maybe too much.”
“No, not at all.”
He glared at Tyler for the second interruption. “You are doing a marvelous job rehabilitating the buildings, in which you have far exceeded my expectations. And I know in weeks, my theater will be ready.” He motioned for Tyler to sit, who without hesitating sat in the chair closest to the man.
“Don’t think I’m not pleased,” Belphegor continued. “What I’m concerned about, is your ability to hire the correct staff.” Tyler’s brow scrunched together, and his head tilted. “The chef was discourteous to you. Which leads me to think, hiring should be left up to me.”
“I don’t understand,” Tyler started, hoping it wasn’t an error to speak. Seeing it wasn’t, he continued, “I don’t think Eli was discourteous at all.”
“No?” He cocked his brow. “Oh, maybe, I misjudged what I saw.”
“What you saw?” Tyler didn’t remember many details from the night before.
“Normally, I don’t mind flirtations, but he was disrespectful to you and Jen.”
“I’m sorry.” Tyler blushed. “I thought he was completely professional. I don’t know what you mean.”
“You didn’t notice the way he was acting toward her? It was vulgar, and I lost my appetite. His actions made me so aggravated I had to leave.” Tyler stared at him. “In order to keep your relationship with Jen, I think you should terminate his employment immediately.”
Tyler was at a loss. He didn’t remember Eli looking at any of them for more than a second while he served dinner. Had he drunk so much he hadn’t seen another man making a move on his girlfriend?
He wasn’t concerned if it happened, they’d only been together for a short time, and they weren’t in an exclusive relationship. He wasn’t confident losing the best chef in the State was best for rebuilding the town. His mind went to sharing Jen with Eli as he had thought of with Cody.
“I’ll speak with him.”
Belphegor shook his head. “You’ll speak with him? Are you willing to lose Jen without a fight?”
“I don’t think I’ll lose her. But, if it’s not meant to be...” He shrugged.
“I see,” Belphegor said, not expecting Tyler’s relaxed view of what he had been told. Forcing the matter ultimately led to questions which he didn’t wish to answer. Telling Tyler about Eli sneaking down the street to watch the Rite dedicated to him wasn’t an option. Nor the theft of his gift. The only thing he could do was keep an eye on Eli to ensure he didn’t stick his nose into his affairs more than he already had. He returned to the window without another word.
Tyler began to feel uncomfortable sitting in the room.
Maybe, the hangover was causing the way he felt with the way the man had regarded him. He stood, glancing at him, then turned to the door.
As he stepped into the hallway, Belphegor said, “Have Cody come up after seven.”
He nodded, closing the door.
“I don’t think anyone’s told him no before,” the girl said as Tyler reached the sitting area. “And you’re still alive.”
“Seriously, were you eavesdropping?” he asked. “Who are you anyway?”
“Becki.”
Finally, he had met the girl Jen had told him liked to spend time in the hotel.
“Do your parents know you’re here?” She shrugged her response. “It’s Saturday. You should be outside playing with your friends?”
Tears threatened to fall. “I don’t have any. They’ve all gone away.”
She stamped her foot on the floor, then took off running down the stairs.
“Ok?”
Jen lay tangled in the sheets when he returned to the apartment. He wanted nothing more than to remove his clothes and join her, but heard clattering in the kitchen.
Pushing the door open, he growled, “I swear, Becki, you can only come in when we invite you.”
“Who’s Becki?” Cody asked, wearing the clothes from the night before. His hair stood haphazardly on his head.
“One of your pieces on the side?”
“Very funny. She’s this little girl who likes hanging out here.”
Cody laughed. “Whatever you say.”
“Say what?” Jen asked, entering the kitchen from the hall.
“I thought Cody was Becki. She was in here earlier. To give me a summons from Mr. Bel.”
“What did he want?” Cody asked, sipping coffee.
“He wanted me to fire Eli like I’m going to cut the best chef in town.”
“What? Why?” Jen asked. Tyler saw the light blush rising on her cheeks.
“He thought Eli was flirting with you too much. He thinks he was discourteous.” The color in Jen’s face rushed out, but Tyler had gone to the counter for his cup of cold coffee and didn’t see
. Turning back to her, he asked, “Does he make you feel uncomfortable? Be honest, because if he does, I will get rid of him as Mr. Bel suggested.”
"No,” she said, hiding her face in the cupboard. Forcing a smirk as she turned, she continued, “If he was flirting, I didn’t notice.” Then with her best Bette Davis voice said, “I never notice the help unless they spill my martini.”
When they’d finished laughing, Tyler told Cody about his summons to appear before Mr. Bel. After taking turns bathing, they sat in the living room watching reruns on TV. As the afternoon faded, Cody’s stomach tied into a knot with the anticipation of his meeting. He’d been surprised Hector hadn’t shown up.
Chapter Twenty-Five
But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed.
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