Sex Magick

by Tom Raimbault

  Daren could see the rejection in a prospect's eyes from the moment he was introduced by the engineer. And being introduced, not the first person to speak was already a problem for Daren. Daren was second in this situation and considered less important than the engineer. And as soon as the engineer would introduce Daren, “…and this is our sales consultant…” Daren could see the look of disappointment in their eyes and noticed how all attention was given back to the engineer.

  In normal circumstances, Daren had the perfect solution to restore his confidence and gain respect from people. It was only necessary to reach into his pocket and pull out the enormous wad of money and count it before people's face. But when visiting a hospital with the intention to build clientele and hopefully a sale, what could be said of a man who flashes a bundle of money before people's faces? Would you have respect for such a salesperson? Might that person see a dollar sign over your head?

  Officials at a hospital were polite, however. They played along with Daren and invited him to an available conference room to listen to his presentations—slide shows, catalogs and mentions of lifetime warranties on all biomedical equipment. But how he hated to see people doze off while speaking! Daren was simply not appreciated in that moment. The man was born to be a leader and to be at the very center of attention, not ignored and treated as a nuisance.

  Such a day would be considered a “rough one” for Daren. Alone and on the road, it was easy for him to dress sharply, stick an enormous wad of money in his pocket and head down to the hotel bar in search of some woman who was alone for the night. His favorite sort of woman was a thirty-something blond, dressed in her business attire. If available, Daren would immediately pull out a thick wad of cash, “What are you drinking?”

  Often such a woman's pheromones would suddenly spike as the scent of fresh bills flipped in the tall, dark stranger's hand. She would sit up and tightly close her legs together, “A strawberry daiquiri!”

  Then Daren would yell out to the bar tender, “Get this lady another drink; and I'll have a martini!” Now with his foot in the door, it was easy to lay on the charm and intrigue while offering tales of traveling the globe, people met and activities experienced. Nine times out of ten, the woman of that evening would accompany Daren back to his hotel room. And that's how he repaired his bruised ego after a hard day on the road.

  This is what Daren set out to do on his first night (Monday) in Detroit. Seven o'clock in the evening, he strolled into the hotel lounge, dressed in a business suit and flipping through a wad of money. Then he glanced at the surroundings and noticed that there were no “qualified” women to spend the evening with. Outside of a pair of used up business women in their late fifties who sat at a cocktail table, drinking wine and talking of real estate and financing; the lounge was empty. That was okay. Maybe Daren needed alone time that night.

  When first dating Mary, Daren was a heavy drinker and nearly lost the woman he loved with his fits of anger and near-violent behavior. In an effort to keep Mary, he admitted that he could do without the booze in his life. But Daren wasn't about to jump on the wagon. As Daren saw it, he should still be able to enjoy a beer or some wine on occasions. Being alone without Mary, tonight, there was no reason not to drown his sorrows in a few bottles of beer. He approached the bar, dropped a ten dollar bill in the tip cup and then made his order. “Give me two MGDs.” There was no reason to purchase his beer one at a time.

  With his two bottles, Daren sat at a table in a dimly-lit corner and took a few gulps from his first beer. “Ah…” That was better. Daren needed that! How badly he wished to slam the remains of that bottle, but thought it best not to cause a scene.

  It was after taking the first swig of the second bottle that Daren suddenly spoke out mentally to Grandma Trivelli. He never knew the woman, but somehow felt connected to her from the moment he noticed her beautiful face inside the oversized Mason jar. “See what I have to go through?” he asked.

  The woman was dead; had been since the 1830s. There was no way she would answer Daren. And she certainly wouldn't be able to tell anyone of his confiding in her. Perhaps this was the sort of company that Daren needed for the evening.

  Daren continued to mentally speak out to Grandma Trivelli. “I've sometimes hinted to Mary that I had a rough trip and all. She doesn't understand. And really, I don't want to bother her with the problems of my job. A wife shouldn't have to hear that stuff.”

  By his fourth beer, Daren set down the bottle and mentioned, “I don't even know your real name! I keep calling you Grandma Trivelli, but you sure as hell don't look like a grandma! From what I see, you're gorgeous…! So what was with your husband, anyway? The guy has a beautiful wife and decides to murder her!”

  Halfway through Daren's 5th beer, an attractive woman entered the lounge, alone. While approaching the bar she took notice of Daren and casually smiled. But Daren wasn't interested. He found his woman for the night, someone who could do more than treat his bruised ego with a one night stand.

  But did Grandma Trivelli understand this?

  Daren suddenly changed the direction of conversation. “You know what gets me? I see these beautiful women come in these bars while I'm on the road—and I don't have to cover anything up to you—I have my way with them. But they don't really care who I am. All they see is a guy dressed up with pocketful of money. They don't care about my feelings or the things I think about through the day. But then you don't care about money, right? Well, you probably do care enough for me to bring home money to your granddaughter. But where you live, no one needs money. You don't find money sexy, right? You know people from the inside, right?”

  Needless to say, Daren was close to drunk with his aimless rambling. And then he quieted down after his 5th beer, mood obviously changed as he began to feel sorry for himself. No one knew Daren for who he really was. He struggled to bring home money while tolerating disrespect from hospital personnel who weren't the least bit interested in his biomedical equipment. Daren was so lonely on the road and often looked for companionship in one night stands with strange women. But they only cared of the fact that he had money; never bothered to look beyond the surface.

  Poor Daren; how badly he needed a hug! He had a beautiful wife at home who would have gladly received a late night call just to hear his voice and hear him vent the frustrations of his trip. But she didn't fully understand; at least this is how Daren believed it.

  “See what I have to put up with?” In those 45 minutes alone with Grandma Trivelli, Daren had transformed into nothing more than a pathetic drunk who took pity on himself.

  Daren could nearly feel Grandma Trivelli's comforting hand rest on his shoulder. “Why don't you go back up to your room and call it a night. You're tired, and you've had a long day.”

  * * *

  By Wednesday afternoon, Daren returned home while Mary was still at work. Rat Dog filled the peace and quiet of the Trivelli house with his ferocious barking. The dog apparently had something wrong with its memory, as it required a couple days to get used to Daren's returned presence.

  Barking and barking and barking; every time Daren stood up or walked to a different area of the house, Rat Dog would snarl and ferociously bark. And Mary wouldn't allow a de-barker collar, claiming that such a thing was cruelty to animals.

  Daren finally had enough. He picked up his shoe and whipped it at the stupid dog, probably injuring it. “Shut the hell up!”

  Rat Dog ran off and hid. It was best to wait for Momma to return home.

  That blasted dog brought the very jerk out of Daren. He was so calm at his initial return home, but the dog put him on edge. “See what I have to put with?” he asked his newfound friend.

  At least Grandma Trivelli understood.

  As Mary worked at the flower shop throughout the week, it wasn't uncommon for her to make simpler meals like Shake-n-Bake chicken on weeknights. On the Wednesday evening of Daren's return, both husband and wife enjoyed this meal with Uncle Ben's instant rice and microw
aved, frozen vegetables.

  Halfway through the meal, after all the updates of the past few days had been exchanged, Daren suddenly asked, “Hey, I was wondering; what was your Grandma Trivelli's first name?”

  It was an unusual question for Mary; but under recent events an appropriate one. “Actually, her name was Mary. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I thought it would be nice to attach a nameplate to her crypt.”

  But it wouldn't be until Saturday, Halloween night, when Daren paid a visit to the family mausoleum!

  Chapter 8

  Amber's fresh spell placed on Jim early in the week must have surely worked; for he hadn't a second thought in taking his now more-than-mistress, Amber, to the yearly Mapleview Halloween carnival on Wednesday night. Announcing another inconvenient cable outage, Jim was able to leave his wife and kids at home for a little mid-week date with Amber. He simply picked her up in his Mapleview Cable bucket truck and drove downtown to the haunted festivities. And what woman wouldn't like to go for a ride in a cable truck?

  No date at a carnival would be complete without a boat ride through the haunted tunnel of love. Sitting beside his Amber, floating in blood-red water amidst the flicker of black strobe lights, and overshadowed by shenanigans of creepy monster robots; Jim stole plenty of tongue-lashing kisses from her. A few times his fingertips grazed across Amber's cleavage.

  Detective Tom was at the Mapleview Halloween carnival that night. In fact, he was always sure to visit local attractions to case out the crowds and take note of peculiar individuals. Just as he walked past the exit of the haunted tunnel of love, he spotted Jim and Amber with beaming smiles and stepping off the boat.

  This was interesting for Detective Tom. It immediately brought his mind back to a cold, rainy day in April of that year when he pulled over to visit a small traffic accident already being investigated by two police officers. Detective Tom realized that the officers were rushing through the investigation, already deciding that the female driver simply didn't pay attention and plowed the front end of her Pontiac Grand Prix into a crossing motorists' Dodge Challenger at the intersection.

  But on that day, Detective Tom couldn't help but notice the freshly-made aggressive tire track marks near the stop sign that suggested the assaulting vehicle to have torn off and deliberately plowed into the crossing motorist. Not every botched up investigation needs the supervision of Detective Tom. He simply made mental note of the people involved for future reference.

  And there they were, the female driver of the assaulting Grand Prix and the unfortunate motorist whose beautiful Dodge Challenger had been plowed. Maybe the accident merely served as fate to bring two lovers together. But Detective Tom knows how people are. He knew that Jim wasn't supposed to be with Amber. A married man in the act of betrayal always sticks out in the crowd.

  Time froze for a split second as Jim locked eyes with the seasoned Mapleview detective. From now on, Jim and Amber had better keep their noses clean. Detective Tom was watching and taking notes.

  As far as Jim was concerned, the detective could have watched all he wanted. Jim wasn't committing a crime and certainly not about to. Plenty of men have mistresses. As-if Detective Tom never had one himself!

  Some hot chocolate to warm up and a shared bag of cotton candy, Jim and Amber walked arm in arm just like lovers do. They rode the Ferris wheel while Jim teased Amber by rocking the cart. Amber isn't really afraid of heights, but playing the frightened little girl is all part of the seduction. And then they stopped at an attraction that anyone should visit while at the carnival. Kids and parents lined up for the carousel ride with animals possessing beautifully painted and carved faces that nearly came to life.

  “Are you really going to ride the carousel?” Amber asked Jim while smiling.

  “Oh yeah! You're never too old to ride a carousel!”

  Amber laughed

  As the line continued to move forward, Jim and Amber approached closer to the carousel. It provided Jim a better opportunity for a deeper look of the situation at hand. Not only did the faces on the animals look as-if to come to life, but they appeared so frightening, nearly evil.

  A strange, old woman operated the ride. Long strands of ratted black and gray hair draped along her shoulders and back. The top of her head was terribly thinned out so that the scalp could be seen. Her dark eyes were surrounded by glassy-red pupils that could either suggest craziness or possibly drunkenness.

  And she didn't just operate the carousel. The strange, old woman played a large keyboard that was apparently wired into the speakers. But the pitch of the keyboard sounded to be deliberately off tune. Although the lively organ music matched the dance of the animals, it had an overwhelming hint of being somewhat scary. In addition to playing this disturbing music; the strange, old woman danced from side to side while swaying her long strands of black and gray hair along her back and shoulders. She was clearly out of her mind!

  If you've ever stood in line for a thrill ride such as the latest roller coaster, then surely you can recall the slight sense of anxiety before boarding. You might even laugh to yourself upon the secret reminder that there is nothing to be afraid of. Thousands of people had experienced that ride and nothing bad ever happened.

  But Jim was suddenly terrified while waiting in line. Why wouldn't he be? The children screamed and cried while going up and down on the animals. The parents who stood nearby or rode with them exhibited extreme anxiety as-if there was something wrong.

  “We're next. Are you excited?” asked Amber.

  Jim could do this! It was only a carousel ride. “Let's do it!”

  Amber straddled a midnight black horse with a dull gray saddle and stirrups. If one looked carefully enough, it would have been noticed that the horse's eyes matched the craziness of the old woman. Next to Amber, Jim sat on what appeared to be a sea dragon with golden gills on its neck, detailed scales along the body and a furious face that roared with sharp teeth and a tongue that lay out on the side.

  Going around the carousel the first two times wasn't so bad. Amber giggled at Jim as he smiled in return. Then the organ music evolved into something eerie and haunting. It might have resembled some distorted piano piece by Tchaikovsky that could provoke sweet feelings of a love once known, long forgotten; but suddenly remembered in a vague sense.

  Why would the strange, old woman create those sounds, much less distort them to be eerie and haunted? And after the third time around, Jim suddenly realized that he knew the old woman from somewhere. She lived in town and worked at one of the small businesses that Jim couldn't quite remember. She must have been volunteering for the yearly carnival.

  Apparently she noticed Jim as well! Deliberate eye contact with a stretched out face that nearly touched Jim was made by the strange, old woman each and every time he passed. It was as-if the ride was all for him! With each passing, she read him further and further; knowing that he wasn't supposed to be at the carnival and knowing that the woman with him should not have been near. Jim was the man that the crazy, old woman had been waiting for all along! After so many years, he finally arrived!

  The music returned to being gay and lively with a twist of fright and of being off tune. The children on the ride began to cry out for their mommies. Finally, Jim understood this phenomenon. Invisible things were touching him. Sometimes they felt like bites or scratches. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim could see the center of the carousel ride that was decorated with nothing more than a mirror. For only split seconds at a time, Jim could see the hellish world being reflected of hideous animals that aggressively bit the children and parents with their large, sharp teeth. The creatures stood on their hind legs and then pounced their front hoofs on the guests, nearly crushing them. The lions swiped their enormous paws across the bloody chests and backs of unfortunate riders. Camels ripped the hair out of children's heads with their nasty mouths. Dragons cocked their evil, serpent heads back and then forced rage-full flames into the faces of people to be nearly cooked aliv
e.

  It was a splendid performance by the strange, old woman; and it was all done for Jim. Wouldn't you like to ride a carousel like that?

  Chapter 9

  Keep in mind that Amber's perception of events is slightly different from what you and I see. For one, we've gotten to know the lineman technician for Mapleview Cable as Jim. But Amber doesn't refer to this man as Jim. From what she understands, his name is Matt and he's Trista's biological father.

  In Amber's mind, it was that woman who now lives with Jim who took Trista's father away so many years ago. She looks to be so friendly and such a good person. But looks can be deceiving. Never trust your fellow women! As Amber learned so many years ago, any one of them might see it fit to steal your man in a vulnerable moment of the relationship.

  As far as Amber was concerned, Jim belonged to her! He was to live in Amber's house with her and Trista, finally get married and be the proper husband and father as originally hoped. He just didn't belong in that house down the street with those other people who Amber could have cared less about.

  Next to Amber, the most important person in Jim's life should have been Trista. And on the night of the first high school orchestra concert of the year, Amber might have played a small part in ensuring that Trista looked her best. Now a junior in high school, sixteen-year-old Trista played the violin so exquisitely. That other daughter of Jim's who lived down the street played in the freshman orchestra. Again, Amber didn't care about her! It was Trista who was to come first.

  “Why don't you let me put a little curl in your hair for tonight.” suggested Amber to her daughter.

  “It's only the first concert of the year, Mother!”

  “Trista, you're a junior now. Take some pride in your appearance and stand out.” Amber made sure that Trista's hair was done up so fine. And what was wrong with just a little extra makeup to help pull out some maturity in Trista's face? By next year, Trista would be a senior, soon to graduate high school and then off to college. All the years that Jim missed on account of his absence; seeing Trista so sophisticated and beautiful would surely coax his return to the family.