by L Neil
“Why weren’t you invited to the reception?” I ask him. I know I’m being rude but I want answers.
His smile grows and his white teeth glisten in the warm lighting. He is not going to tell me.
“Okay, what about this one – is it true, the rumours about you?”
His grin remains but his eyes seem to warn me not to speak of this now. Is it because Eddie is here? Would he tell me otherwise?
“And what do you do with yourself, Eddie?” Samuel asks.
Fine. I suppose I should just stop trying.
“I’m an electrician,” Eddie replies, still focused on the other man.
“He’s helping us with the apartment,” I tell Sam.
“What do you do?” Eddie asks him, curiously.
I squint at him, trying to determine if I had the wrong idea about Eddie all along. Could he be attracted to men? That could be a good thing – Frank surely can’t object to me having a gay friend, could he? Still, I would rather he stay away from Sam.
I don’t know what it is but there is something about Eddie that makes me want to protect him. Perhaps because I don’t know a lot of truly innocent people and he seems to be one of the few good guys I know.
Sam tells Eddie about how he owns a fashion label, “You may have heard of it. SM?”
Umm, who hasn’t heard of it? The fact that his initials are S and M is a convenient coincidence. His line of clothing consists of bondage style outfits and accessories that are only just acceptable enough to wear in public.
Eddie’s eyebrows climb and it appears that he is about to comment on it but then his phone rings and he excuses himself.
As he takes the call, heading for the exit, I jump back in. “So, you can answer my question now.”
One side of Samuel's mouth twists up in a grin that’s more like a snarl. “Are you sure you don’t have any questions about your husband instead? You do know what they call him, right?”
I tip back my drink and then meet him in the eyes to confess, “I grew up surrounded by this life, as you know. It takes a lot to bother me.”
I lean in and whisper, “If anything, the thought of Frank “conducting business” is rather exciting.”
What worries me is that I am not entirely certain that I am bluffing. Could I really be turned on by the idea of him “hurting fellas”? I might save that thought for later.
Anyway, maybe now Sam will feel safe enough to answer me.
He does look at me differently, smile wavering.
I tilt my chin up - so tell me, then. Tell your bad-ass stepmother about all those missing guys and gals.
He considers it a bit longer and I worry that Eddie will return before he finally confesses. But then he says, “People go missing all the time. I may know where some of them are,” he admits, “But there’s one that particularly concerns me.”
I raise a brow.
“When you get a chance, perhaps you could find out what your husband did to him. The name was Josh - he was one of Frank’s informants and the best lay I ever had. Frank must have discovered our affair and had him ...removed.”
“Why?” I breathe. Surely, Frank isn’t that homophobic.
“Secrets,” he whispers in reply. “I believe Frank wasn’t too pleased with Josh sharing intel with his wayward, and most handsome son.”
He snickers and then takes a swig of his drink. “Josh knew all sorts of sensitive things.” He looks sideways at me and it seems he has something further to say, something interesting.
“Like what?” I prompt him.
He turns in the stool and faces the bar again. I join him.
“His main job was to spy on you. He took all of those photographs of you,” - all of those photographs? - “and he was good at extracting information from your colleagues, your friends and your...past lovers about you.”
My mouth is suddenly dry. I haven’t the slightest clue how to react to that. Hadn’t I already decided that I wouldn’t allow this to bother me? Can I change my mind about my marriage at this stage or is it too late?
I wipe my sweaty palms on the dress at my thighs and say, “Go on.”
“He disappeared about a week after you arrived in New Orleans.” He seems genuinely upset about this. “Just...poof! Gone.”
The bar tender is back and Sam orders us both another drink. When we are alone again, he says, “I guess my father didn’t want any loose ends. He didn’t want you to find out how deeply disturbing his obsession with you was – and probably still is, mind you.”
I clear my throat and tell him, “I am aware that Frank has followed me over the years. He told me so himself. And... I’m fine with it.”
Sort of. Maybe. I mean, I thought I was…
He smiles and salutes me with his glass. “Touché.” He takes a deep gulp and smacks the empty glass onto the counter. “Though, when Luke left you suddenly, weren’t you even a little bit curious? I mean, you had never been dumped before, had you?”
The mention of my last serious ex quickens my pulse.
I met Luke after a gig I performed in London four years ago. Our relationship became rocky a few months before it ended, so it wasn’t surprising that we didn’t last.
But yes, it was the first time that I was ever dumped. Usually, I would be the one to end things. And I don’t need a therapist to tell me that it’s because I am afraid to get too close to someone and have to lie to them about who I am.
Il mio piccolo piro.
I’m fairly certain that’s the whole reason I am willing to let Frank’s indiscretions slide so easily. Who else can I be honest with about my past? Who else would accept it?
Luke had started to use illicit drugs more frequently and at first, it was fine. Whatever, what’s a couple of pills here and there?
Over time, however, I noticed the change in his behaviour and knew that he was becoming dependent on it.
It was the longest relationship I had ever had, at thirteen months long. And I guess I stuck around to try and help him. But I had no clue what I was doing, and he ended up leaving me for another user.
It only hurt because I felt like I failed him. I’ve written a song or two about it.
“What are you implying?” I ask, dazed. Surely, Frank wasn’t involved.
He leans into me and says, so seriously, “I’m not implying...or even suggesting anything this time. I’m telling you.”
He spins the empty tumbler with hand. “If you do investigate it and Frank finds out, you must promise that you will not tell him that I tipped you off.”
“I promise,” I reply, still unsteady.
The last thing he told me turned out to be untrue, but I would be a fool not to at least look into it, wouldn’t I?
Eddie returns and tells us urgently, “Your husband’s making his way back inside. Just thought you should know.”
I stand, shimmy my dress and collect my purse. I tell them, “I’ll catch up to him. I'm ready to go home now anyway.”
Not wanting to leave Eddie with Sam but also not wanting Frank to see us all together, I don’t have much choice but to walk away.
After some serious lovemaking, Frank and I lay in bed. He is perched on one elbow and runs his fingertips along my body, creating goose bumps in their wake.
He asks me why I am so distant. I thought I was hiding it better than that, but I guess not.
Should I just outright ask him about Sam? About Josh? And I keep unintentionally running into Eddie, too. At what point will he start calling us BFFs? If I become friends with a male after getting married, when do I need to inform my husband about it? And most importantly, how would he react?
I’m yet to learn how Frank handles the little green monster. I think about the different possible outcomes – most of them involving a scalpel – and decide that I should just try to avoid Eddie from now on.
Finally, I reply to him. “You said you had a collection of items dedicated to me. Was that true?”
He slides his hand under mine and brings i
t to his lips for a soft kiss. Cautiously, he replies, “It is. You’ll find that I have not lied to you about anything.”
It’s probably true but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t keep things from me. It’s just about asking the right questions with this man.
“Would you like me to show you?” He asks, gently.
I search his eyes and find that he is unflinching. He is not ashamed about stalking me, only worried about my reaction. And I doubt that he would let me run from him, no matter how badly I might want to.
I nod and softly reply, “Yeah.”
We climb out of bed and cover our naked bodies with thick, plush robes. Mine is white and Frank’s is royal blue.
It’s the beginning of December now so our wardrobe is filled with warmer clothing. But we didn’t think to put slippers or socks on, so the floorboards are freezing as we walk down the hall to a room I haven’t seen before.
Behind the wooden door is a very masculine, contemporary office. The walls are a dark grey and the wall with the door that we came through has built-in shelving with a sparkling granite rock backdrop.
My hands gingerly brush the leather spines of the random clusters of books. The mini plant pot has a live stumpy cactus in it. It’s the only plant I’ve seen inside the entire house.
The surface of his wooden desk is bare, and the entire office is tidy and minimalistic. There is a fireplace on the wall to the right. It’s modern and simple, in a light grey blue - a nice contrast to the dark wall behind it.
Frank pushes a panel above the fireplace - which I had assumed was a part of the chimney - and reveals a black safe that is about two feet wide and three feet tall.
He turns the dial this way and that in such a quick succession that it seems he either uses the safe a lot or all his safes may have the same combination. I’m only assuming a man like him would have more than one.
Inside of the safe is a tall stack of files and half a dozen slim DVD cases. He moves aside so that I can peruse the contents.
Amazingly, my hands don’t shake as I reach for the top file. He watches with a blank face as I open the file and scan the documents inside. The label on the file reads: Out and About, New Orleans – October to _____.
There are photos of me at my apartment, at lunch with Manny, on stage at Medusa, at the bar with Sebastian and Rob, out shopping...
I exhale shakily. It’s a lot to take in and it’s only the smallest and most recent file.
Frank hasn’t moved. He will let me continue and process this however I may.
There is a report inside the file for the week commencing on the seventh of October. The week I arrived back in town.
I stretch my neck up to read the labels on some more of the files in the safe. The others are much thicker.
Friends and Family (New Orleans)
London
Friends and Family (London)
And so on.
The bottom file is the oldest: School and extracurricular awards and reports.
Using my fingertips, I push the first DVD aside to read the title on the cover. PERFORMANCES. The next title is OUT AND ABOUT.
Chills creep up my spine. But I can be just as cool and calm as he. Pretending I am not affected at all, I flip through the first file that is still in my hand.
Joshua Hardwick's name is in the footer of the report.
I look at my husband who is as still as I have ever seen him and ask him casually, “Who is Joshua Hardwick?”
He wets his bottom lip and glances at the paperwork. When he speaks, it’s deep and low and my treacherous body reacts to it. “He used to work for me but not anymore. Rest assured, no one is filming or photographing you anymore. If I’m not with you, then Dominic and Marty will be there to keep you safe.”
Ok, so I’m not any closer to finding out what happened to Josh. I could ask and he would probably tell me the truth. But then he might catch on that Sam had spoken to me about it and I cannot allow that to happen. A promise is a promise.
“Was he the only one who followed me?”
He watches me closely as he replies, “No. I had a small team on rotation.”
If the next answer is yes, then I think I would finally throw in the towel. “Did Dominic follow me?”
He shakes his head “no” – oh, relief – and says, “Max did. As did Tony P – you haven’t met him yet.”
So, if he didn’t make Max and Tony P disappear, then what was so special with Josh, to get rid of him? I suppose it would be because he was seeing Sam and leaking information. Or did he actually have a problem with their sexual relationship? Either way, I cannot help but feel bad for Sam. I know I shouldn’t but there it is.
I put the file back and my curiosity seeks out the bottom, larger file. I slide it out, amazingly not messing up the files atop it.
It contains photocopies of merit awards from school that I had forgotten about – for mathematics and music and other random things like the debate team. Going deeper into the file, I find copies of old report cards and photos.
I smile at the photo of me at my graduation, in a three-way hug with my closest friends at the time, Jordan and Becky.
There’s one of me in senior, playing basketball in a mini skirt. The photo is a bit creepy because mid-shot, my skirt had lifted to reveal some of my black panties beneath.
Frank must notice my hesitation because he tells me, “I backhanded Max for that one. Damn near split his face open.”
I fight to keep my face neutral. He still kept the photo, didn’t he?
There’s a slim burgundy coloured folder behind the pile of DVDs. While I’m curious about its contents, I decide against looking at it. What more could there possibly be? Yeah, I definitely don’t want to know, not right now.
When I’m satisfied that I no longer need evidence that Frank has been fixated on me for more most of my life, I put the file away. I could easily return it to the bottom of the pile, but I choose to put it on top. I know how meticulous he is, and I hope that it drives him a little mad. Maybe I am pissed about all of this. I honestly don’t know how I feel about it all.
I close the safe door, not giving him a chance to correct it. Such a small, petty thing to do, I know.
And it didn’t go unnoticed.
I hold his gaze, daring him to do something about it. But then his eyes drop to the top of my robe, to the opening that reveals only a part of my chest. My stomach flutters. He really is insatiable.
He takes me on his desk and it’s frantic, animalistic. With his hard grip on my body and his powerful thrusts, it doesn’t take long for me to come.
If this is my punishment, I should push his buttons more often.
CHAPTER 11
The Taxidermist
The next morning is cold and gloomy – in other words, perfect. They say there is a big storm coming in the next day or two, so the dark grey clouds and spouts of spontaneous rain are quietly ominous.
Today’s outfit, courtesy of Wendy, is a wine coloured, Victorian-style blouse, long black skinny jeans and black flats. The blouse has a high, frilled neck, fabric buttons that cover the décolletage and sheer three-quarter length sleeves. It seems she also selected clothing to match my tastes, not just my size.
I’m back at the apartment with Marty and Dominic and I’m amazed at how much work Tony’s guys have done.
Most of the kitchen is completed with sleek, black modular cabinets that cover the brick wall from the floor to the ceiling. The open spaces in the cabinets have warm lights inside of them which will highlight whatever items I decide to put inside of them. There is also a hidden dishwasher and a bin inside the cabinets.
The bench tops are yet to arrive, but I had chosen a walnut design and the sink will be made of black granite with a matching sink mixer. The island counter will double as a bar with a built-in wine rack and a little bar fridge.
Matching bookshelves have been set up on the wall to the other side of the apartment – the wall that the bedroom and bathroom ar
e behind.
I smile and think of Eddie when I look at all the lighting above and on the walls. He did an excellent job. The black pendants in the kitchen area are simply perfect.
And speak of the devil - he trails in now, behind Tony, who is here to finalise the rest of our plan.
Tony asks if I’m happy with the work so far and I tell him that I’m super impressed. He says that he has secured the bathtub that I wanted and that they are going to install it along with the vanity and mirror later today.
