by Matt Rass
“Oh, yeah,” Angelique said. “I forgot about that.”
“Well,” Dominique said, “it was gross.”
Ray watched Dominique watch Angelique head for the bathroom. Dominique was masculine, but it was hard for Ray to get a proper read on her due to the plastic surgery. Women that looked like this, he thought, were almost like clones. Androgynous females. Sex machines? Maybe he was just being prejudiced because “sex” was their job.
“So, you wanna know what happened to Sam?” she asked, painting the zig-zag with the black oil.
“You know what happened to him?”
“No, sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Sorry I don’t know what happened to him. He was here one moment and gone the next, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“What time was that?”
“I’m not a hundred percent, but close to midnight.”
“Can you tell me how you met him? The first time, I mean.”
“I’m a dancer and he was the DJ. He sold me some shit when I first got to town, then introduced me to the parties they got goin’ on around here so I could make some money.”
“Sex parties?”
Dominique filled the zig-zag with weed and focused as she began rolling. “I guess some of the girls had sex with the guests, yeah. Me and Angel just did our thing like you saw tonight. We were supposed to continue down to Las Vegas.”
“Who were the parties for?”
“Rich old white guys. Who else?”
“Know any of their names?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You’re not real lesbians, though?”
“Is that a policeman or a personal question?”
“Personal, I guess. Sorry.”
She tightened up the joint and licked the glue. “Does it matter?”
“Not to me. People should be able to do what they want as long as it doesn’t hurt no one else. Where you from?”
“Minneapolis.”
Angelique returned to the kitchen, dragging a brush through her thick blonde hair. She went to the bottle of gin on the counter and complained, “You didn’t wash the glasses.”
“I was rolling a joint.”
“What’s that?” Angelique asked, pointing at the vial.
“Some hash oil I get from a lawyer friend.”
“Is it good?”
“I wouldn’t smoke it if it was bad,” she said, and to Ray she said, “You’re not gonna arrest me for this, right?”
Ray shook his head. “I trust it’s for medical reasons.”
Dominique laughed, short and clipped as if it hurt her lips to laugh. She tried sucking them in. Perhaps shy about their size. Perhaps not.
“Y’all want your gin neat, on ice, or with juice?” Angelique asked.
“Neat,” Ray and Dom said in unison.
“You didn’t know Sam very well, did you?” Dominique asked.
“No,” Ray said.
“He told me you went to Detroit to get away from your family.”
“There wasn’t much of a family left,” he said.
Dominique lit the joint, puffed twice, and handed it to Ray. He didn’t hesitate in taking it. Build trust, he thought.
“Sam gave the best massages,” Angelique said matter-of-factly, delivering the coffee cups with gin to the small table. Ray looked at her breasts and then to her hands—both tattooed with butterflies, one red and the other blue. Ray’s cup read Fuck Mondays. He handed the joint to Angelique. She didn’t toke from it, but passed it to Dominique to shotgun it for her. Ray watched as the smoke blew from one woman’s lips to the other’s.
“They say Sam met with someone in the parking lot,” Ray said.
Dom removed the joint from inside her mouth and dragged on it. “I think he took off,” she said.
Ray looked to Angelique and she shrugged and broke eye contact.
“Why would he do that?”
“’Cos that’s what I would do,” Dom said. “They say he stole some money from the parties. Like a big payout of some kind. Seventy-five large.”
Ray watched a glistening wet spot appear on her lip as she flicked it with her tongue saying the word large. She moistened her lips further.
“Who says he stole money?” Ray asked.
“People,” Dom said. “It’s just what I heard.”
“From who?”
“I shouldn’t say.”
“I can keep a secret,” Ray said. “I’m not gonna tell anybody about the smoke.”
“Sorry, officer, but I’ve only told you this much because of Sam.” She handed the joint back to Ray. “Plus, you’re smoking it, too.”
“Then tell me how does a brother like Sam get close enough to seventy-five large to steal it?” Ray hit the joint.
“How does anyone steal anything? They see it and they take it.”
“You ever see Sam handle money like that before? From the parties?”
“Nothing like that, no. A couple thousand at most I guess, to pay the local girls and such. But then again, I wasn’t his partner or anything.”
“So he would recruit all the girls and pay them?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know long these parties have been going on now?”
“Like when they first started?”
“Yeah.” Ray handed the joint up to Angelique.
“Prolly four or five years ago. Why?”
“Tells me if someone got lazy holding the money.”
“I guess things were kinda loose near the end.”
“That bar you were at with Sam doesn’t seem your style,” Ray said. “Why hang out there?”
“It’s an easy place to get rid of some pills a doctor friend gives me.”
“Dom?” Angel said, passing her the joint. “What’re you doing?”
“Sounds like you got some well-connected friends,” Ray commented. “Lawyers, doctors...”
“You really shouldn’t be telling him this,” Angel said. “He’s a friggin’ cop for cryin’ out loud.”
“You’re not a cop tonight though. Right, Ray?” Dom asked, dabbing more oil onto the joint.
“I only care about finding Sam,” he assured her. “Tell me more about the night Sam went missing.”
“One sec,” Dom said and pressed a button on her phone. Sade’s “Smooth Operator” came over the speakers next. “Love this song,” Dominique said as she casually smoked and continued to talk. “Sam works for Tony as a DJ, right. But these parties are something else entirely. Tony doesn’t have anything to do with that...”
“Dom!” Angelique interrupted her.
“It’s okay, this is Sam’s brother, he should know as much as we do…”
“You’re gonna get yourself in deep shit if you tell him anymore,” Angel warned her, her big boobs jiggling as she became over-excited.
Ray took the joint from Dominique. “Chill,” he said. “We’re just smokin’ and talkin’. Take a seat.”
“Don’t tell me to take a seat,” Angel said. “You take a drink. I made it for you.”
“Sure thing, baby,” Ray said and took a drink of his gin. “Can she finish the story now?”
“You finish your drink, first,” Angel said.
Ray picked his cup back up. “Cheers”—he clinked coffee cups with the two women and drained his drink—“now can I hear the rest?”
Angel took the joint from him and half-filled his cup. “Okay,” she said. “You can continue.”
Dominique dipped the end of a bobby pin into the vial of oil and held it over the flame of her lighter, inhaling the smoke. She coughed and continued: “Tony’s brother is a big to-do in this town, right.”
“I don’t know,” Ray said. “Is he?”
“Well, he’s a senator or a congressman, or something. He works in Washington for the president.”
Ray laughed at the absurdity. “For the president? What’s his name?”
“Frank Silver.”
Ray dug out his cell phone a
nd googled the name. He read the result to the girls: “Frank Silver, born December 21, 1949. Sixty-nine years old, is a former judge and mayor of the city of Benson Bridge. He is currently the United States Representative for Michigan's second congressional district. He is a Republican.”
“Well,” Dominique continued, taking the joint back from Angelique. “He’s the one they have these parties for. He invites his rich buddies and they pay a lot of money to be there.”
“Do drugs?” Ray asked.
“Whatever they want.”
“Where do they have these parties and who’s the main person puts them together?” Ray asked. “It can’t be just Sam?”
“I dunno,” she answered. “I dunno who puts it together or where it is.”
“They blindfold us,” Angelique said and filled Ray’s cup with more gin.
“And you don’t know who Sam met in the parking lot at the Welcome?”
“He took a call on his cell”—Dominique painted more oil on the joint and handed it to Ray—“He said someone was waiting for him in the parking lot and he’d be right back.”
“And he never said who it was?”
“Nope.”
“And he didn’t come back?”
She shook her head.
“Did you see anyone out of the ordinary that night, before or after?”
“No one. Could’ve been an Uber for all I know. Like I said, I think he took off on his own.”
Ray wasn’t convinced. He pulled on the joint. It was warm in his lungs. He hadn’t really smoked since the Army, and then only one time once he was back on home soil. The medicinal cannabis had always interested him, though. His anxiety was like unwanted electricity, fight or flight, and the anti-depressants he was prescribed to manage his anger had only left him in a fog of emotionlessness. The joint had really turned on the lights for him, however. The room had brightened considerably. Was it the oil? He was lit. He handed what was left of the joint up to Angelique and she held it as if holding a fly by its wings. “He tried to get us to stop going,” she said.
“To the parties?” Ray asked.
“Uh-huh,” she nodded.
“But the money was too good,” Dominique said.
“Dwight said the girls were young,” Ray said.
“They were young, yeah.”
“Oh my god,” Angel said. “Super young.”
“And money talks?”
“Money makes sure no one talks,” Dominique said, then: “Finish your drink. It’ll level you off. You look like you haven’t smoked in a while.”
Ray tipped his cup and swallowed. Beyond his cup, he saw something pass between the two girls—a look he interpreted to mean they knew something he didn’t. He felt the energy of the room pull away from him. He was tripping. But then Dominique smiled at him. She enjoyed talking. Probably why she liked to be in Sam’s company. Sam was always the cerebral one. As a kid he used big words even adults didn’t know the meanings of.
Ray hit the last of his drink in one big gulp and felt all the buttons keeping him tight finally pop. He stared at the bottom of the empty cup. His head began to swirl and the room began to tilt. The girls’ faces seemed to glow. He wanted to speak but felt as though he had a lock on his tongue. Best to ride this thing out. And then he felt his face become heavy, as if he had to get his hands ready to catch it, but he couldn’t lift his hands from the table.
“What was in that joint?” he heard himself say.
It was as though he was observing himself from outside his body. But this feeling wasn’t from the joint. It’d been something in the drink. He’d smoked his share of weed and had never felt this way. He could drink a fifth of bourbon by himself and still walk a straight line. He was too loose. Too flimsy. Like Jell-O. He watched Dominique drink and it was as if she was moving in slow motion. He could see her mouth open wide and her tongue glisten, her big fake lips laughing, but he was deaf to the sound. She stood up and her and Angelique began kissing in the middle of the kitchen. The light above them was like a scorching sun. Ray watched as they caressed each other and tongued each other’s mouths. He turned to look at the exit and it appeared as if it was a black hole. He turned again, this time at the touch of Angelique at his side. Her hands were long and white and the red and blue butterfly on each seemed to pulse.
“What?” he asked.
He couldn’t hear what she was saying. Dominique reached past his vision and pressed the button again on her phone. This time he heard her when she said, “Phil Collins.”
“Phil fucking Collins?” Ray instinctively said.
“Something in the Air Tonight,” she said and he saw her mouth the words in slow-motion: “I love it.”
Ray was back in his body, but he was still sluggish and slow. Angelique was telling him to go sit on the couch. He felt himself stand before he willed himself to walk. His feet were heavy and he felt as though he was moving through water. Dominique put her arm around him, and it almost seemed as if the couch had come to them. Now he was sitting. Dominique’s face crossed his, the fingers of one hand touching his lips as her other hand pulled at the belt around his waist. She whispered in his ear. Her breath was hot and stank of weed. His belt came loose.
“It’s too big for you,” he said.
“What?” She laughed.
“It’s too big for you,” he said again.
“We can handle anything,” Dominique said.
“You shouldn’t try,” he said. “It’s gonna be too big.”
She laughed again, “You said that already.”
He felt his lips moving and he wanted to warn them that he was too big, but he couldn’t remember if he had said that already.
Angelique stood naked as night in front of him. But where was Dominique? “Where are you?” Ray asked.
“I’m right here, hon,” she said from behind him. “But I’m just gonna watch this time.”
Then the blonde was on top of him. Dominique traced her hands over his chest, and she whispered in his ear, “I want to feel you fuck her.”
Angelique pulled Ray out of his pants and gasped. She looked up at Dominique and pleaded, “I can’t fit this inside me.”
But Dominique told her to take it. “Use the lube,” she said.
Ray watched Angelique’s hand slowly cross his body and reach for a half-empty, gallon jug of lube. Then he felt the flash of cold jelly touch his pecker. She put the top inside her, and Ray watched her face contort. It was like a fist butting up against a belly button.
She groaned.
Dominique pawed at Ray’s chest and pushed her breasts against the back of his head. Angelique sucked at his lips and he kissed her, their tongues whisking in each other’s mouths. He grabbed her between the legs and held her cunt like a handshake. She spun her leg over the top of his head and planted her hands on the floor beyond his feet. Ray held her by the hips and Dominique pushed his head down and dunked his face into her best friend’s ass. The hidden cameras captured everything.
THE HANGOVER
Early morning light crept around the hotel’s closed curtains as Ray stood before the bathroom mirror and sawed at his tongue with his toothbrush. He then held his mouth under the tap and rinsed, wetted the toothbrush, applied more toothpaste, and sawed at his tongue some more.
He turned to look at the reflections of the scratches on his back and shook his head. “Damn,” he said. Beside the sink, his phone chirped with an incoming message. It was from his wife. He swiped it open and read it: WE ARE OFFICIALLY OVER. GOOD LUCK IN YOUR SMALL TOWN ASSHOLE. HYPOCRITE!
All capitals like that. He spit again, rinsed his mouth once more, turned off the tap, and threw the toothbrush in the trash. What in the hell was his wife on him for? She was the one who was caught cheating.
He felt way too hungover for the little bit he drank and smoked last night. Was it something in the weed? The oil? His head was aching. What if they put something in his drink?
He went to his bed and opened up his suitcase an
d took a clean shirt from inside. As he pulled it on he saw the light on his room phone blinking red.
“No more, Lord, please,” he begged, lifting the receiver. He pressed the message button, and listened as Dwight explained he had dropped DC off at her room. “Shit,” Rays said. He’d almost forgot about that.
It was 9:00 a.m.
A short while later, Ray rapped on DC’s door. He had finally stopped beating himself up about last night and decided to play it simply as a fool’s return home. He had fucked around last night like a teenager and there wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about. He was single now.
DC opened the door after Ray’s third knock. A part of him—the selfish side—had hoped she had cut out. But, just as his dad had known when Ray was sleeping in to ditch school back when they lived in the Welcome Hotel, he knew she would still be in bed.
She answered the door wearing a bathrobe and smoking reefer.
“This is a non-smoking room,” he said, pointing to the sign on the door.
“It ain’t tobacco,” she replied.
“It’s worse, girl. It’s gonna stink up the place.”
“Nigga, I was smokin out the window ’fore you interrupted me.”
“Well, can I come in or what?”
“What, you a vampire? You need my permission?”
Ray shook his head as he stepped into the room. “Do you have coffee in here? Mine only came with decaf.”
“Lemme check,” she said, and walked into the bathroom where the coffeemaker was.
“Dwight drop you off safely last night?”
“I’m here, ain’t I?”
“Just making conversation.”
DC came out of the bathroom and asked, “You wanna know how long he stayed for?”
“None of my business, and I don’t care. What about that coffee?”
“I guess they got the real coffee. It just says “coffee” onnit.”
“That’ll work.”
DC returned to the bathroom and filled the coffee pot with water and set about making it as Ray’s mind went to his drink from last night. It was drugged, he was sure of it. What he wasn’t sure about was why would they want to drug him in the first place. Cosby-ed him like that.
“You need help getting your clothes from your pimp’s, or whatever-his-name-is’, place?” Ray asked.
