by C. S Luis
Later that day…
* * *
The rental Bryce had secured for me was a furnished, one-floor, two-bedroom house in the River Oaks area, just a short drive from downtown Houston and the infamous Montrose area, a hip and popular area filled with culture and mischief; too much mischief was a bad place for me to be.
After leaving Milton, I headed back to run some errands; I guess that’s what you called them. Bryce said I should act normal, like a single man that works in a school as a principal. I wondered exactly how to do that. He gave me a list of activities normal people do during their time on any given day. I followed it because I had no idea what else to do.
And I had to act the part, and when I meant act the part, I meant taking my own clothes down to the Laundromat to wash them. Who the fuck does that?
I certainly didn’t, never had to. I never had the need to. I always had a maid and dropped off any cleaning at a private business that handled those affairs for me.
I ruined a few good shirts the first time around, mixing the colors in with my neat dress shirts, and I had to buy all new shirts. My pants were dry cleaning only, but I didn’t understand the difference between washing them in cold water until it was too late.
I was also told I had to get my own groceries, another task better left for the maid I hired. It was strange to walk into the store, watching how normal people performed these tasks. Here was John Slater walking into the store, wearing a long, blue dress shirt and dark slacks. I had the sleeves of the shirt rolled up just a tiny bit because I didn’t want to get stared at because of the tattoos that flashed up and down my arms, especially the cross bones emblem of the ADA and the number of kills I had acquired marking the side of the skull’s head.
That’s always a conversation starter, especially for the hunted, if we have time. I couldn’t help but brag. The skillful acrobat and fire starter didn’t find it impressive, even after a quick injection to secure them, and they dropped. It was clear to see in their eyes they knew they would soon be part of the tattoo. With every successful hunt, it grew.
I wandered the aisles picking up things I might like. Coffee. Nothing like a good cup of Joe in the morning, correct? What kind did I like? I wasn’t even sure. I grabbed anything but Folgers; what the hell was French roast? My coffee usually already came in the mug with little or no sugar. I’d never had to make my own coffee; did I need instant or ground roast? Heck, did I even own a coffee maker?
I guess I needed bread and lots of fruit, especially mangoes, oranges, and bananas. I got some tomatoes and lettuce in case I needed to make a sandwich. In that case, I also needed cheese and mayo, perhaps even slices of turkey and ham. I wandered for a while in the store like a lost puppy and tried my best to appear casual. I didn’t know where any of these items were. I had never shopped before. I found the milk and eggs close to where the slices of turkey and cheese were. I reached for a carton of eggs, and a woman’s hand touched mine.
“Oh, excuse me,” she politely said.
“No, go ahead. After you,” I graciously said. She blushed, and I grinned.
“Well, thank you.” She took the carton and moved over to her shopping cart; she smiled, and her eyes wouldn’t leave mine. She was a brunette with shoulder length hair, a pretty housewife type.
I grabbed another carton of eggs and moved on to the cereal, but our eyes met a few more times, and we met again in the next aisle while looking for the cereal.
She wanted me to ask her something; it’s as if they sensed it. Slater was a flirt. Slater was a lady’s man. She was next to me at the checkout line, and our eyes met again briefly. I had to stop this game. But it wasn’t my fault; it was the game. It wanted me, and it always found me, no matter what.
I could see her reflection through the cooler in front of me, and it seemed she wanted to come up to me. But she hesitated instead, putting her groceries onto the checkout belt.
After paying for my groceries, I turned, dead set on inviting her back to my place so we could fuck of course; there was no doubt she was already mine. She looked over at me while she paid for her groceries and suddenly, my phone rang.
“No social activity whatsoever,” the voice at the other end said. “You breathe and live Milton High now, John. Walk out of the store, put your groceries in the car, and go home. You have work tomorrow,” The Man in White’s voice softly said, and then the line went dead.
Dammit!
I hissed and walked out of the door, rolling the cart out towards my car. I put the groceries into the car and jumped into the baby blue Shelby Mustang before I changed my mind. The mom, I assumed, came out with her head looking each way. She was looking for me, and I gritted my teeth as I sped away.
By the time I got home, it was just after seven in the evening, and the laundry and the groceries were done. What else was there to do? I had done my part as a normal individual.
After putting the groceries away, I settled down on the couch with a glass of red wine; it was a reward. I could have a single cup, couldn’t I? The phone hadn’t rung to tell me otherwise, at least not yet. So I drank deep, and the red wine was rich; it never betrayed me, never abandoned me. I always enjoyed it, and I never got lost in the intoxication. I always knew where I was despite being aroused by the flavor.
I enjoyed it so much that I emptied the bottle before midnight. My favorite was Concannon, a brand I had picked up just by accident. I had other favorites; it was one of many, but it was the one I usually chose on quiet evenings. And this evening, it was intoxicating as I felt it kiss my lips, and its smooth texture rolled down my throat.
I was at peace at least for that moment.
9
Being Dr. John Black
It was bright and early when I arrived; the sunlight wasn’t even out yet when I turned off the car and opened the laptop. I sat in my car for a few minutes, staring at the cursor on the screen: no words, no messages, and no file from Bryce. In front of me sat the school; the building looked deserted. The yellow buses were lined up all along the side of the building getting ready to leave the parking lot and make their routes.
I couldn’t even remember my first day of school because I had never gone to a normal school. I recalled the academy: men in suits and sometimes men in training uniforms, and my gym teacher, Master Chung who trained me in Chun Kuk Do, Jeet Kune Do, Jiu-Jitsu, and many other forms of martial arts. My school studies consisted of a variety of languages. I was fluent in several, Spanish being my favorite. My upbringing was anything but normal; I had teachers that trained me in disassembling and assembling weapons, and I was taught what chemicals, when mixed, would go boom. I could go on, but the only thing on my mind was getting the file that had failed to appear on my laptop.
So, there I sat until it was time to go in and pretend to be someone else. I had to become the respected principal that Bryce had scolded me to become. The whorehouses and social activity of any kind were out of the picture. I couldn’t even go to a nightclub if I wanted to pick up a girl of my choice. I had to be a good boy for now.
Closing the laptop, I lifted it and opened the car door. I felt my shoes on the parking lot gravel. Had they not even the funds to pave the parking lot? I walked up to the building and looked up at the entrance before I entered. It was just half-past six in the morning.
“So, here we go,” I whispered underneath my breath as I took a step forward up the steps in front of me. Behind me, the school buses were now moving, all leaving the side of the building as I entered the metal doorway.
The day had just begun; it was quiet, and the empty halls were dark, dreadful, and depressing, not to mention in desperate need of repairs in some places. The paint looked worn out in some areas. If these walls could talk, I feared what they would say. I hoped to find the location of my intended target quickly so I could get the fuck out of here. Some of the lights flickered and others barely held on or were completely out. I immediately realized and understood Michael’s confused and curious expression when
first meeting me. I certainly didn’t belong here, not among all this chaos.
At the entrance, there was a stairwell to my left, and as I continued, I noticed the side door of the cafeteria; the doors were wide open, and inside I could see long colorful folded cafeteria tables. Some were already set down and ready for today’s lunch periods. The cafeteria wasn’t too large, and to the very back I could see the entrance to the lunch line that led to the other end where the students, I assumed, paid for their meals at the register.
It might seem that I knew what I was looking at; well, it did help to have the maps of the school at hand. It was required so I knew where I was going, but I had to give the impression that perhaps I didn’t know too well.
The ideal thing to do was to enter through the front of the school, even though it made sense to enter through the side door since that’s where the parking lot was located and where I had come through. Who really entered through the front?
As I walked on, I saw Coke machines to my left. And I thought they had done away with all the sugary beverages, nothing like teenagers and sugar for a mixture of chaos.
The sudden sounds of a bell startled me, and I felt foolish for suddenly looking up, ready to strike someone. I composed myself and hurried forward; the hall was long and it seemed to have no end. I passed a few offices to my left and right. J. Claypool and R. Vasquez, Assistant Principals, the doors read. I had passed these on my last visit, and like before, paid them no attention. I had no intention of stepping in to say hello, no intention of making friends.
I passed the buffalo by the entrance and the trophy shelves that had greeted me on my first visit. To my right, there was a library and I had finally reached the desired office doorway, and taking a breath, I reached for the doorknob. It was time to play my role and to do my best.
I could already taste the rewards, the success it would bring me afterwards. I can’t say why, but I suddenly had a nervous feeling, and I turned towards the glass walls of the library that sat behind me. As I slowly moved, I almost felt a sickening feeling, like I was being watched or perhaps being summoned. I couldn’t explain it. I finally gazed at the glass into the library with its many shelves and books sitting on them. There was a quiet peace in me.
A girl sat at a table in the library, and I could see the long strands of brown hair falling from her shoulder and her slender fingers were gripping the book. I could see her slim, bronzed arms resting on the table. Her head barely came poking out from the top of the large book, making me desperate. The words my girl keep finding their way into my mind, along with the phase nameless face.
Was that her? Was she real, or was someone playing an ugly game with me?
I stared until the door from the other end of the office opened, and I spun my head around to find Michael standing in the doorway; he had been waiting for me in Dr. Edwards’ office. I looked back, but the image I thought I had seen was now gone. The book was there sitting on the table, but she, if she had been real, was now gone. My heart was rapidly beating and I tried to regain control of my emotions. I was desperate and excited, and I could hardly contain myself, but I had to because it was show time. I was Dr. John Black, and it was time to prove it.
“I thought you had changed your mind,” Michael jokingly said as he allowed me to pass him.
He looked nervous and he was surprised by my confidence as I quickly tried to regain it. But, of course, I had confidence. I didn’t fear anything, especially not him. My normal jobs consisted of exotic places, strange characters, traveling to beautiful locations, and avoiding getting killed. And I liked every minute of it, and at the end of the day, I curled up with a glass of red wine and a million more in the bank, and if I so chose, an attractive lady by my side for that evening.
We entered the office interior, and he led me into the office entrance. Inside, I found myself in the company of Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez. I already felt like I knew them. There was a pile of boxes; the shelves were now empty, and I could see Michael had successfully cleared out most of the items. The desk, which was facing the office entrance, was cleaned and had been polished nicely. The only thing left to do was clear out the boxes that had been stacked near the entrance against the walls.
“Dr. John Black, please let me introduce you to a few members of my staff,” Michael politely said as we walked in.
“This is Mr. James Claypool, he’s our underclassmen assistant principal.” Mr. Claypool smiled as I reached over to shake his hand. He looked surprised, and I couldn’t tell if it was my appearance that made him blush or my stature and strong handshake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. We’re delighted to have you join us,” he said, looking a little nervous, very much so like Michael. Mr. Claypool had on a pale blue suit, and his tie had ugly blue stripes. He was balding on the top of his head, and the color of his hair reminded me of The Man in White. He was so pale that even the little hair on his head was not quite visible. His eyes were a clear blue, as pale as those of The Man in White, and although they resembled a little in appearance, Bryce was a much better dresser with a full head of blond hair.
Mr. Claypool, for some strange reason, reminded me a bit of the actor, Ed Harris. I wondered if he had ever been told that. Other than his appearance being slightly off, he seemed to be a very nice, polite and humble man. It wasn’t something I was used to.
There was also the tall fellow who seemed lanky standing alongside Mr. Claypool. He looked Hispanic from what I could tell, with white features, light curls of hair on his head, a thick mustache, and large hazel eyes. He wore a mossy colored suit with a black tie. The men were equally tall to me; even Michael seemed quite tall despite his slouching. I wasn’t sure if it was simply age that was making him do so, or if he didn’t know good posture. Of course, when I was around, it seemed he tried hard to stand up straight, and strange enough, I felt that they were all trying to please Dr. John Black. This didn’t surprise me.
“And this is Mr. Richard Vasquez. He’s in charge of the upperclassmen.” The man smiled and his lip disappeared behind that thick mustache when he did. I didn’t want to laugh, but he looked silly, more of a clown than a man.
“Welcome to Milton High, sir,” he simply said. A bell rang somewhere in the distance, and I tried as hard as I could not to let it startle me as it had before.
As the sound of the bell faded, Michael said, “The movers should be here shortly, and then we’ll have all these things cleared out by the time you get settled. While we wait, I thought that perhaps we could take that tour I promised you, and you can meet some of the teachers.”
Perhaps Michael had noticed the look on my face as my eyes had wandered around the room looking at the mess in the office. And perhaps he wondered why it hadn’t been ready for me.
He once again looked nervous. This was too easy. These people feared me way too easily.
“Sounds like a great idea, Michael. Please lead the way. Gentlemen,” I said to the two men standing around like two shy teenage boys looking on at the adults.
I walked into the interior and noticed Michael speaking with Mr. Claypool. I overheard him saying, “I need you and Mr. Vasquez here when the movers come. Make sure they know to take the items we’ve discussed back to Neil’s house. And for God’s sake, make sure Claudia doesn’t see you guys.”
Then he stepped out of the office as I patiently waited for him.
“Sir, you’re welcome to leave your briefcase in the office,” Michael offered. “Mrs. Wallace can keep it for you behind her desk. It should be fine there,” Michael added.
I pressed a locking switch that not even the best of us could open. And if they did somehow manage to get it open, it would immediately wipe the files and destroy any evidence.
“Mrs. Wallace,” Michael said as the woman with the cotton hair appeared from the other end of the office; she walked from around the pigeonholes, poking her head out and looking at us from behind her large glasses.
I hadn’t noticed her when
we had first come in. Was she that stealthy?
“This is Mrs. Alice Wallace, my secretary,” Michael offered as the woman reached to take my hand. I immediately put the briefcase on the desk and grabbed hold of her arm in the same manner.
“I don’t think we were properly introduced the last time, Mrs. Wallace. I’m Dr. John Black. It’s a pleasure.”
She blushed as I kindly smirked; the half-smile went up; the John Slater smile.
“Mrs. Wallace, can you keep this safe for Dr. Black while we’re out? I don’t want it to get mistaken for an item from Dr. Edwards’ office,” Michael said as I slowly released her hand and arm.
She seemed to snap back into place when Michael glared over at her, and she blinked, merely nodding like a bobble head doll. She then took the briefcase and put it in one of the long, bottom drawers of her desk. It fit perfectly.
“Thank you, Alice,” I politely said, and she almost lost it, clumsily tipping over a container holding a group of pencils that scattered and rolled off the side of her desk. By then, Michael and I were by the door. Michael was opening the door, and I was entering the hallway when I caught him looking back at her. He seemed to be rolling his eyes.
I tried to pretend I hadn’t seen anything, looking straight into the library windows. I found it quite empty as Michael came into the hallway with me. As he stood behind me, I turned, desperate to find the bronzed and slender hands of the girl that had held the book when I first came to Milton, and then the thought entered my mind.
“I think it would be proper if I introduced myself to Dr. Edwards’ granddaughter. Wouldn’t you agree, Michael?”
He suddenly gazed up at me, perhaps surprised at the request or impressed by my concern. I wanted to get to know her. Curiosity had stalked me, had made me desperate to find out why Bryce had failed to follow procedure. This was his project, not mine. You’d think he would want me to have all the necessary information.
