by Dan Taylor
I turn around to see she’s holding the pistol in the regular manner. It looks ridiculous.
I say, “Okay, let’s get this over and done with. I promise not to scream, fully understanding you’ll shoot me if I do. And I promise not to look at you during. To be honest, I’m not big on eye contact either, especially given the circumstances.” I start unbuckling my belt, and then say, “And I hope you’ve got a pill, because, well, promise not to shoot me on the spot, but I don’t find you nearly attractive enough to get one while in a public place with you—”
“What are you talking about and why are you unbuckling your belt?”
“This isn’t…” My voice trails off.
“This isn’t what?”
Oh, so it’s not that. I’m confused.
I think fast. “This isn’t the place you wanted me to make sure my belt wasn’t too tight? My bad.” I buckle it up again. “There we go, just right. That’s now my regular hole. This is turning out to be a fun learning experience.”
She looks at me like she’s just caught me taking a dump in her kitty litter box. “Oh, you didn’t think I wanted to…” She looks nauseous.
I shrug. “It crossed my mind.”
So, she isn’t looking to rape me, though I’d be quite the rapist’s catch.
I take out my wallet and hold it out to her.
She glances at it, clearly disgusted by what the act is implying. “And I don’t want your money. I was sincere when I said I’m wearing Gebacci.”
I put it away. “And I’m sincere when I say I don’t have a clue who that is and why that would mean you don’t want the two thou—dred… two hundred dollars in my wallet.”
“I don’t need your money. These shoes cost more than your apartment.”
“I doubt that, but can we just get on to why you’ve taken me outside at gunpoint.”
“I want you to make a phone call.”
9.
ENOUGH CRAZY SHIT happens to you in a day and at some point, some of it, if not all of it, starts to make sense. Like the time I put on a pair of pants with a rip in the ass seam. I had no idea what all the pointing and laughing was about as I walked down Hollywood Boulevard, to one of my favorite breakfast joints, until a kind old lady came up to me in the diner and said, “You’re showing your ass to all and sundry, you jackass. There’s a tear in your pants.”
As I look at Michelle Trueheart, holding out a cell phone to me, I’m not at the old-lady-pointing-out-the-tear-in-the-seat-of-my-pants part of this story just yet. In fact, this is just one more crazy thing happening to me today that seemingly doesn’t relate to all of the other crazy things.
I say, “You took me outside to force me to make a phone call?”
“I did.”
“Okay…”
I take the phone from her. “Who do you want me to dial? Is it takeout or drugs or both?”
“Speed dial eleven.”
“And that is?”
“You’ll find out.”
I look at the phone. “I don’t speed dial. How do you do that, exactly?”
“In this case, you press one once for a regular length of time, and then press it again but holding it longer.”
I recite it back to her: “One short, one long?”
“You got it.”
“And you can put the gun away. If you’d have just asked me nicely, I’d have phoned whoever it is I’m phoning.”
Which is who, exactly?
After I’ve speed dialed whoever eleven is and placed the phone to my ear, I glance at Michelle Trueheart, seeing if I can remember her. Have I slept with this woman? Her boyfriend answers, takes his anger out on my eardrum? Tiny, ridiculous pistol aside, it’s clear who wears the pants in this relationship.
After five rings, a guy answers. And he might as well be an old lady telling me I’m showing my ass to all and sundry.
10.
“JAKE HANCOCK, HOW are you?”
It’s Cole Baxter. I’d recognize that nerd’s voice anywhere.
“I’m a little confused, Cole. If you wanted to keep in touch, I prefer Gmail to having some crazy bitch point a tiny pistol at my balls with her foot, threatening me into phoning you.”
“She’s impressive, right?”
“The foot thing? I suppose a certain niche group of guys might find it impressive, but I’m more of an ass man.”
“How’s Hollywood?”
The last time I saw Cole he was in Oslo, Norway, letting everyone think he was dead, including his wife and kids, as he was planning a life with a foxy little Norwegian recruitment agent. Real hero, Cole Baxter.
I say, “It mourns the loss of its favorite son every day, but we struggle on without you. I take it I wasn’t forced into phoning you at gunpoint because you wanted to shoot the breeze with me.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
“So what’s this about, Cole?”
“You can call me Brian.”
“For any particular reason?”
“Cannon.”
“What?”
“Brian Cannon. That’s the name I go by now. I wanted a name that’s beautiful in terms of phonaesthetics, like cellar door.”
“Okay, Brian Cannon. It rolls off the tongue. Now what’s this all about?”
“I have a confession. It isn’t just me I wanted to force you to speak with, but someone else. She’s in the bathroom right now.”
The nerd sounds excited.
“Do you have a new girlfriend, Brian?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. And there are a couple rules you need to know before you’re allowed to speak to her. The first one is you can only refer to me as Brian.”
“Okay.”
“Two, you’re not to distress her in any way. She’s mildly sedated, so I don’t expect her to get violent if you say something that relates to rule three. But still, I’d like to take her to dinner tonight without my being in the dog house.”
“Okay.”
“And rule number three—” I hear a sound in the background. And then Cole, sorry, Brian says, “She’s just flushed the toilet. She’s coming now. This is exciting. Anyway, rule three, Jake, is that if you let her know she’s been in a sense kidnapped, you’ll never see her again.”
11.
“HONEY, JAKE’S ON THE phone. Do you want to come and speak to him?” Brian says.
“Oh goodie. Does he sound well?” a female voice says.
The voice sounds a short distance away, but I recognize it nonetheless, despite the word choice and the airy, creepy tone to her voice.
A second later she speaks into the phone: “Jake, how are you?”
“Megan? Is that you?”
“Yeah. Sorry my voice sounds a little funny. Brian says it’s the coastal air that’s made me feel funny these last couple days. Isn’t he great?”
“Brian? He’s a hell of a guy. Are you okay, Megan?”
“Never been better. I’ve met the man of my dreams and he’s giving me loads of spending money while we’re on vacation together. Sure, he wore a tie on our first date, but I came around.” She laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever said.
This sounds bad.
I say, “Megan, whisper your response to my next question.”
“Why?”
“Just do it, will you?”
“Okay.”
“Where are you two on vacation?”
“It’s Disney World, I think. Though I haven’t seen Goofy yet. He’s my favorite.”
“Have you seen Mickey or Minnie?” I think a second, wracking my brain for cartoon characters. “Or Donald Duck or Pluto?”
“I’ve seen the whole gang. They come out to play after Brian and I drink cocktails.”
“Don’t drink them, Megan, you hear me—”
I don’t get to finish, as it sounds like the phone gets snatched away from her. Then I hear Brian say, “Okay, honey. That’s enough of speaking with Uncle Jake for now. You go and enjoy a cocktail on the balcony of our hotel room in s
ome nondescript warm foreign place.”
“You’re funny, Brian. What cocktail is it this time?” Megan asks.
“I want it to be a surprise. Go and see! And make sure you close the patio door. Uncle Jake and I have something to talk about.”
I hear what sounds like Megan skipping off and then the sound of the patio door closing.
A second later Brian comes back on the line.
He says, “Yeah, she’s going to like that cocktail. She’ll be out like a light for the next few hours.”
“You sick fuck. And did you just refer to me as Uncle Jake?”
He laughs. “I think she’s starting to believe that you are her uncle, she’s so out of it. If you get her back—which you might, if you play ball—she’ll never see you as a sexual object ever again, she’ll be so mentally scarred.”
That’s the weirdest compliment I’ve ever received. But there are more pressing matters.
Like why Cole has kidnapped Megan.
I say, “Why are you doing this, Cole?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know who Cole is. Maybe you’ve got the wrong number.”
“Okay, Brian. Why are you doing this?”
“Guess.”
I think a second. “It’s not because I had sex with your girlfriend when we were in Oslo, is it?”
It’s true. But believe me when I say that woman gave me little choice in the matter.
“That whore? I couldn’t care less about her,” Brian says.
“Are you sure? You sound a little upset about it.”
“I dumped her faster than the previous night’s phal.”
“I don’t follow.”
“A phal is a notoriously hot curry. And when people eat really spicy food, it tends to come out of the other end quicker than—”
“Not that. I don’t get why you’re so pissed at me that you’ve kidnapped Megan.”
“A couple months ago, you went on a date and had sex with a woman named Julie Fox.”
“So?”
“And you never got back in contact with her when she said she had kids.”
I remember her. I was down with her having kids, but Julie Fox was crazier than a clown college frat party. She invited me over for a second date, and into her bedroom right after dinner.
When I stepped through her bedroom door, the conversation went like this:
“Jake, do you want to see my collection of ornamental elephant babies?”
“Uh, yeah, okay.”
“Maybe after. I’ve got something else I want to show you first.”
“Like what?”
“These.”
She reached into her bra and pulled out a collection of Pokémon cards.
I said, “That’s quite the set.”
“It is. It’s nearly complete.” She put them on her dresser and looked at me seductively. Then out of nowhere, she lifted up her skirt and showed me the dense triangle of hair between her thighs.
What she said next came right out of left field. “Do you want to adopt John and Joe?”
I remember thinking, What she said would’ve made more sense if she’d have taken off her bra. Not much more sense, but a little. I asked, “Who are John and Joe?”
“My kids.”
I did what any respectful man would do in a situation like that. I had sex with her, got the hell out of Dodge, and let her down gently the next day. Probably ambiguously, now that I think about it.
Back to the conversation with Cole.
“What about her?” I say.
“I’ll give you a clue. Fox is her maiden name.”
The penny drops. “So she was your wife? And John and Joe are your kids?”
“Ew, no! Julie Fox is my adopted sister, and John and Joe are my nephews.”
“Then why was it a clue that Fox is her maiden name?”
“Never mind that. Let’s get on to what really matters.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You really hurt my sister, Jake. God knows why, but she fell in love with you on that second date.”
The L word. I bust out my default response. “Thanks!”
“It’s not me you should be thanking, but something tells me you’ll get your opportunity to tell that to the right person.”
“Brian, where are you going with this?”
“All I’ve ever wanted was my sister to be happy, Hancock. Well, it’s maybe not all I’ve ever wanted, but it’s certainly high on the list.”
“Okay.”
“And it’s unfortunate, for both you and me, I’m sure, but what would make Julie happy right now is—”
“The Charizard Pokémon card?”
“No, you, Hancock. What would make Julie happy is having you, to cherish and hold.”
“Oh, boy.”
12.
“OH, BOY, INDEED. The only way you get Megan back is by—”
“Going on a third date with Julie?”
“You wish it were that simple, but no. You have to marry her and adopt John and Joe.”
A wave of nausea hits.
“I’d make a terrible husband and father. You know that. Surely there’s something else I can do to get Megan back?”
“No can do. Anyway, I’ve always thought Julie and the boys should have a male figure in their family with a first name that begins with J.”
I think about it a second. Julie, John, Joe, and Jake. We’d make quite the creepy matching family.
I say, “That sounds like a terrible criterion to base your choice for your sister’s husband on. And the fact that you have interest in who she marries tells me you’re not well, Brian. You need help.”
“Probably. I haven’t felt completely right since I took that hallucinogen as part of an Amazonian tribe ritual. But none of that matters. Julie says she wants you and little brother’s going to deliver for her.”
“This won’t be happiness for her, Brian. Sure, I’m a bit of a catch, but I don’t love her.”
“You need to convince her otherwise. And don’t even think about marrying her then getting the marriage annulled. I have a contingency plan to guard against that.”
“What’s that?”
Brian doesn’t reply. Three seconds later, there’s an intense burning in my chest.
13.
IT’S A FAMILIAR FEELING. That souped-up pacemaker The Agency put in my chest? It produces the same feeling. I get two seconds of it before it stops.
Then Brian says, “You divorce Julie and you get ten seconds. Do you know what happens after ten seconds?”
“My heart explodes?”
“Not literally, but yeah, you’ll be dead. It’s the only way I can make sure you’ll honor your wedding vows. And don’t even think about getting headaches at night, excusing yourself from your marital duties. I have cameras set up in Julie’s home, including the bedroom.”
“Brian, you sick fuck. You have cameras in your sister’s bedroom?” I think a second. “How did you get the device that activates the pacemaker?”
“I found out about it when I was accidentally CC’d in an email from Andre to Gerry. Good timing, as I’d just found out, after listening to a phone call conversation between my sister and her friend, about how you’d mistreated Sis. The rest you can thank Michelle Trueheart for.”
“You’ve tapped her phone, too? And Michelle Trueheart stole it from Andre?”
“Like you, Andre succumbed to Michelle’s advances. And then it was simply a matter of drugging him and searching The Agency mansion.”
Andre is The Agency boss, who, up until Michelle taking it, was the owner of the device that controls the pacemaker in my heart. I told that son of a bitch not to let it get into the wrongs hands.
Now some sick maniac has control over my life, just like when I was married.
But for some reason, I’m more worried about Brian thinking I was wooed by Michelle, red lipstick smear on her teeth and all.
I reiterate, “FYI, Michelle had to force me outside at gunpoint to phone
you.”
Brian/Cole ignores me, says we should exchange numbers, so that I can keep him in the loop. I couldn’t agree more. Next time I speak to Cole I don’t want to have to be threatened into it by Michelle Trueheart.
“Anyway, it’s been fun chatting. Megan’s just become unconscious and now it’s playtime,” Cole says.
“Don’t you touch her, Brian! She’s way out of your league.”
“Relax, Hancock. I’ll probably just fondle her boobs a little. And maybe look in her panties, but I wouldn’t feel right about touching what’s inside. Bye for now… Oh, and Hancock?”
“Yeah?”
“No police.”
14.
BRIAN HANGS UP and I hand the phone back to Michelle Trueheart.
Dryly, she says, “Congratulations.”
“What’s in this for you?”
“Money.”
I shrug. “That’s as good a reason as any. So what now?”
“Now you phone Julie and kiss and make up.”
I sigh.
I take out my phone, thinking about what I’m going to say. In my experience, even with ladies of Julie’s generous nature, a guy can’t just screw over a girl and expect to come back, saying he misses her, he made a huge mistake, and expect the girl, even if she obviously likes the guy, to just accept him back into her life. Especially when there are kids involved. Granted, I never got to meet John and Joe, but I still think it will factor into her decision when she hears I’ve changed my mind. Even a mom who flashes her love triangle while asking if the guy she flashed it to would like to adopt her children is sensible enough to recognize she might not want the type of guy who would come in and out of her life as frequently as a pizza boy to be around her children.
It’s a delicate situation. Who knows how all this turns out if Julie rejects me.
Michelle Trueheart says, “What’s taking so long?”
“Relax, I’m just thinking of what to say.”
“Do you need some pointers?”
“Thanks, I got it.”
I scroll through my contacts list and don’t find her number. I must’ve deleted it. So I go to the messages folder and find an old message.
I press the button to dial her number.
