by L. L. Soares
“Were you sleeping or something?”
“No,” he said, his voice slightly louder. “I’m up.”
He opened the door, wanting to see the face that went with the voice. Wanting to convince himself this wasn’t another dream.
The woman reminded him of Maggie on first glance. She didn’t really look like her, but she had the hard eyes of an alcoholic. Maggie had eyes like that toward the end. Picturing her in his mind’s eye, he could see them begging him for help.
“Hi,” the woman said. “I was just wondering if maybe you might have something to drink in there. Something you might like to share with somebody.”
He looked at the bed. His suitcase. “No,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m not much of a drinker.”
And then he thought of the visions he’d had, of the things he was sure he had done, and he wondered if maybe this wasn’t the time to start drinking.
“Is there a bar nearby?” he asked.
“Yeah, there’s one down the street,” the woman said. A glint of hope in her eyes.
“I know,” he said. “How about I buy you a drink? I feel like I could use one myself.”
“That would be great,” she said. “Let me get my jacket. It’s getting cold out there.”
“Sure,” Sam said and watched her go down the hall. He closed the door for a moment and went to the bed. He put the photo of Maggie and him back in the suitcase and closed the case up. He put it under the bed, disturbing more roaches. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear them.
He checked his pockets. His wallet was there. He made sure it was intact. It had some money left in it. He checked his other pockets until he found a key and locked the door to the dirty little room on the way out.
She was waiting for him in the hallway.
“Don’t you have a jacket?” she asked.
“Naw, I guess I forgot to bring one.”
“That’s too bad,” she said. “By the way, my name is Rachel.”
“Nice to meet you, Rachel.” He hesitated, wondering if he should give her his real name. “My name’s John,” he told her.
“Well, John, I really want to thank you for offering to buy a girl a drink.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he said, leading her toward the stairs. There wasn’t any sign of an elevator. “I guess I don’t feel much like drinking alone tonight.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Viv went cruising.
There was a certain stretch where prostitutes plied their wares. One of many. But Viv had been to this particular section before, and it had really worked out well in a pinch. Maybe it could again.
She drove by them slowly, listening to their catcalls, searching for just the right one. The one with the most pain in her face. Even though she wasn’t a man, the hookers were very aggressive as she drove by. She certainly wasn’t the first woman to cruise here. Some women came to find a suitable threesome for their men. Other women just wanted other kinds of kicks.
“You want me baby, you know you do,” a tall blonde shouted at her, with a faint Southern drawl as she drove by. “I’ll do whatever you want, sweetness.”
Most of them were women, but some of them were clearly transvestites and transsexuals. Some of these had a lot of pain to give, and it was very tempting, but she also knew they would be resistant to making it with someone like her. She wasn’t exactly their regular clientele. And Viv wanted someone who would be very receptive. Someone who wouldn’t put up too much of a struggle.
“Over here,” Viv said to a woman who looked a little older than the rest. Her guarded face lit a little at being picked out of the crowd.
“Get in on the passenger side,” Viv said, waving her over. The others hooted and laughed. “Mary’s gone got herself a looker.”
The hooker got in on the passenger side and smiled as she sat down beside Viv. She had on a lot of makeup to cover her age. And her hair was peroxide blonde. It looked as if it would be brittle to the touch.
“You ready to go to heaven?” Viv asked.
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” the woman asked. “There aren’t a lot of women cruising around here.” The hooker had a husky voice. Too much whiskey and cigarettes. “But I’m game. I just love a little variety.”
“Good,” Viv said and stepped on the gas pedal, taking them away from the boulevard.
“What’s your name?” Viv asked, feeling the hunger gnawing down deep inside her, but trying to maintain her composure. She didn’t want to seem too desperate after all.
“Paulina. How about you?”
“Viv.”
“What made you pick me out of the crowd, sweetheart?”
“There was something about you that just caught my eye. You looked so sad.”
“Sad? Baby, I ain’t sad.”
“Sure you’re not,” Viv said. “We’re almost there.”
“And where might that be?”
Viv parked the car in a deserted parking lot. There were only a few lampposts, and where they’d parked it was pretty dark.
“You ready for some action?” Viv asked.
“I don’t mean to talk business, but I like my money up front.”
“Sure,” Viv said, opening her purse and taking out some bills. “Is this good enough?”
Paulina smiled. “I’d say so.”
“Good. Let’s get in the back seat.”
They both got out of the car and then got in back. “How do you want to do this?” Paulina asked. “Who’s going to be on top?”
“I will,’ Viv said.
Paulina hiked up her skirt. She wasn’t wearing any panties, which came as no surprise.
Viv went down on her for a bit first, then, when Paulina was good and wet, she reached down on the floor of the car and lifted a little bag. She had a strap-on with a dildo that doubled as a vibrator. She tied it around her waist and turned it on and let it hum.
“Shit, this is going to be fun.”
Viv rubbed it against her clitoris, and then, when Paulina seemed to be really responding, she slipped the head of the vibrator into her. Pauline let out a yelp as she took it inside her, and Viv smiled. She’d picked the right one. As if the dildo wasn’t enough, Viv started probing the woman with her mind, seeking out the pleasure centers and massaging them. It didn’t take very long before the woman was moving around beneath her, breathing hard and making noise.
When Paulina reached the verge of orgasm, Viv hurried the process, increasing the strength of her sensations. And then, in the midst of it all, she searched for the part of Paulina’s mind that was damaged, shattered. Vulnerable. It didn’t take long to find. She had been right—there was so much sadness in this woman. Viv almost started crying without even realizing it. When she find the core of it, she embraced it. All the while watching Paulina with an odd fascination. No matter how many times she witnessed this, it never got old.
“Oooh,” Paulina gasped. She tried to form words but it came out as inarticulate grunts.
Viv embraced the damaged part of Paulina’s soul and drew it out, devoured it, took it into herself.
The groans got louder for a moment. Paulina sounded like she was going to explode. And then, the sounds died away. She stopped moving beneath her.
Suddenly, the woman’s bladder emptied onto the leather seat. Viv raised herself up on her arms to escape the flow.
Shit! Viv thought. I was careless. Now how am I going to get rid of this urine stink?
It was then that her orgasm began. She gritted her teeth and tried to keep from letting the urine touch her, but it was an impossible task.
When it was over, Viv stared down into the shadowy face beneath her. The glassy eyes. She could see them in the faint light from the street lamps further down the parking lot.
Viv got out of the car and slipped back behind the steering wheel. She started the car and drove across the deserted parking lot. There was a park nearby.
It was a short drive. There were a few kids sitting in their cars, dr
inking and making out. Viv drove past them, deeper into the park proper.
There was a bench at the end of the road and nobody nearby. Viv parked and got out of the car. She opened the back and slid Paulina out by her arms. Then she lifted the woman gently and put her on the bench. She brushed down the hem of her dress. Just another homeless woman sleeping on a park bench. There would be no sign of foul play.
She’d simply had a heart attack.
Viv got back into her car and drove away from the park.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand and half-wondered about disease. It wasn’t something that bothered her much. She’d resigned herself to the idea a long time ago that she was not as susceptible to diseases as other people. But the faint worry lingered in the back of her mind. If she hadn’t contracted anything by now, then she probably wasn’t going to, but you could never know for sure.
The woman had tasted vile, though. She wondered about her hygiene. Which made her aware of the urine smell, again.
Which, in turn, made Viv regret even more what she’d had to do tonight. It wasn’t like she always enjoyed these things. Sometimes they could be special, but more often than not they were just a means to an end. This time had been repulsive.
All that mattered, though, was that she satisfied the need, got rid of the ache inside her.
Now that she’d fed, the process had begun inside her. Her body would assimilate what she’d taken from the woman and replenish itself. She would need to curl into a ball soon and sleep it off.
She had just enough time to get home.
God, I hope I have time for a shower, she thought.
* * *
“When I went to see Dr. Wayne,” Colleen read aloud. “I was full of anger I didn’t understand and my temper kept getting me into scrapes. But after I saw him, the anger left me. It’s like he just drained it right out of me. But I felt so weird afterwards, that I didn’t want to go back and see him anymore. So, I just stopped going. But I swear I still see him every once in a while, like he’s following me. Something about him scares me. Like he wants to hurt me or something.”
So it was the same Dr. Wayne, Colleen thought as she closed Turney’s diary. That must have been why Turney had seemed so anxious when he’d come to ask her for a place to stay, always looking over his shoulder
So maybe it wasn’t a random act of violence that night when Dr. Wayne killed Turney right in front of her. He’d probably been hunting Turney for a while. After he took away Turney’s anger, and left him hollow.
If only I could have known. If only there was some way I could have warned Turney before that fateful night.
It was such a waste. Turney had been so young. He was just starting to turn his life around. Then she thought of how she’d been trying to get Turney to move out of her apartment just before he died. She felt guilty about that now.
She put the diary under her pillow and walked down the hall to the living room. The television was black and silent, a square sentinel in the middle of the house, waiting to be brought to life with noise and color.
At the end of the other hall, leading away from the living room, was where Viv called home. She’d been inside that room before, but never alone. She had never explored it before.
I wonder where Viv goes, Colleen wondered.
She was always so quiet when she left in the middle of the night. Sometimes she’d take her car, and sometimes she’d find another mode of transportation. The bus. A cab. It all depended on her mood. But she usually left without a word and never explained afterwards. In fact, when Viv returned from these mysterious excursions she was usually exhausted to the point of near-collapse and locked herself in her room. Sometimes not emerging for days. Maybe there are clues in there, Colleen thought. Something to tell me where she goes on these mysterious trips of hers.
She turned and looked through the sliding glass doors behind her that looked out onto the beach and its waves.
The moon was full and made the sand glow.
She turned back to face the closed door to Viv’s room. The curiosity was too much. She went to the door and turned the knob. It was open.
Colleen took a deep breath and went inside.
She had seen the inside of this room before, but, even now, the starkness of it surprised her. The minimal furniture. The mattress on the floor in the far corner of the room. So much bare floor space.
She went over and turned on the compact stereo on the floor beside the bed and pushed the “play” button. Billie Holiday began to sing the song “Strange Fruit.” Colleen had heard Billie’s voice before, back when she was a child.
There must be some kind of clue here, Colleen thought. Something to explain Viv’s behavior.
But there wasn’t. In the bureau drawers, there was nothing mixed with her clothes.
Then there was the closet. The door was in the wall opposite the mattress.
Colleen just assumed there were clothes in there, but decided now she wanted a closer look. She went over and tried the door. It was locked.
She knew ways to unlock doors. She turned and walked toward the kitchen, to get some tools. She got as far as the end of the hall before she sensed someone watching her, and turned to see someone standing outside the sliding glass doors, looking in.
It was Viv.
She pounded on the glass with her palm. Colleen ran over and opened the door. Viv seemed to have to make a great effort to pull herself inside.
“Are you okay?” Colleen asked.
“I’m fine. I just need to get to my room and sleep.”
“Let me help you.”
Viv began to protest, then let Colleen move closer and help her toward the hallway. Colleen hoped she was too tired to notice she’d left the door to Viv’s bedroom open.
They went inside the room. Billie Holiday was still singing. Now it was “God Bless the Child.” Viv didn’t seem to notice the music. Despite the fact that she was trying her best to stay awake, she was starting to become very heavy against Colleen’s side. She could barely keep her eyes open. It must have taken all her effort not to collapse.
“The bed,” Viv said, and Colleen led her to the mattress on the floor, where Viv allowed herself to drop.
Viv rolled onto her side and pulled the sheets up over her. “Please let me sleep,” she said softly to Colleen. “And close the door.”
Colleen was going to ask where she had been, but it was none of her business. She simply had to look out for Viv, as Viv had looked out for her the week before.
“Do you want me to help you get your clothes off?” Colleen asked.
“No,” Viv said. “Please. Just leave me alone.”
It wasn’t an angry tone. It was the voice of someone on the verge of unconsciousness.
Colleen shut off the music, then the overhead light and closed the door behind her.
This wasn’t the first time Viv had come home exhausted, but it was the worst instance so far.
I really want to know what’s wrong, Colleen thought. She poured herself another glass of wine in the kitchen. I’m going to ask her in the morning.
It was about then that she realized she had finally stopped her crying jag. She drained the glass of wine and poured herself another one.
* * *
He wanted to ask her so many questions, but didn’t know where to begin. And there was no guarantee she’d have any answers. As far as he knew, this was the first time they’d ever met.
“Can I ask you a really strange question?” Sam asked.
Rachel watched as the bartender placed her drink on the bar before her. Sam could tell she really wanted that drink, but she hesitated.
“Sure.”
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been here?”
“What?” she asked, clearly perplexed. She raised the glass to her lips and drank. “Don’t you know?”
“Must have been one hell of a binge I was on,” Sam said. “I don’t remember much about how I got here.”
“I thought you said you weren’t much of a drinker?”
“Look, it’s not easy to admit, okay? I was sober for a whole year and then I fell off the wagon.” He gulped his whiskey. “It doesn’t look like I’ll be getting back on that wagon anytime soon.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Rachel said. “To have stayed sober for so long. It must be heart-breaking.”
“The struggle’s over at least,” he said, trying his best to sound defeated, which wasn’t that difficult, considering his circumstances. “Did you notice me before today? Have I been here long?”
“You really don’t remember, do you?”
“It’s a blur,” he said, calling the bartender over. “Another round for me and the lady.”
The bartender nodded and took their empty glasses away.
“I heard you yesterday. And maybe the day before. But I hadn’t seen you until today. I wasn’t sure who was in that room, but I got real thirsty, you know. And I guess I was hoping you were a kindred spirit.”
“So I’ve been here at least two days?”
“That’s as much as I know. I didn’t pay much attention before that. I remember another guy, Rolph, he was in that room for a while, but I think he left about a week ago.”
“It’s worse than I thought,” Sam said. “Two days gone. Now I have an even weirder question. Where the hell are we?”
“We’re in Philadelphia,” she told him, clearly puzzled by his questions. “That must have been some bender.”
“Sure was,” Sam said as the bartender returned with their drinks. “Keep a running tab,” he told him.
He had no idea how he’d gotten here. Had he flown? He certainly didn’t remember a plane ride. Had he gotten here by some other means? There was no way of knowing.
Sam lifted his glass. “Hair of the dog, I guess.”
“You look like someone who could use a person to talk to. And I’ve got nothing but time,” Rachel said and brought her glass to her lips.
“About a month ago, my wife died. I guess my life’s been a shambles ever since.”
“That’s horrible. How did she die?”
