by Rick R. Reed
Robert sat on the couch, wanting to bury his head in his hands. Jess stood above him, breathing hard, fire flashing in her eyes. She was angry, furious, and it was part of the mothering urge she had for him. Where did that come from? Was it some vestige of Keith, now looking out for him?
“Well, I didn’t actually see him snort anything—or smoke anything, but I think the evidence was pretty conclusive. There were huge lines of white powder lined up across his dresser. I don’t think it was baking soda.” She sat down beside him and put an arm across his shoulders. “I know it’s hard, but you have to do something.”
Robert considered the food in the kitchen, waiting for him to come in and work his magic, and thought how silly he was to be thinking of food at a time like this. Why couldn’t he just be man enough to march up the stairs and confront Ethan with what Jess had told him? Why was he so afraid of conflict? Had he always been this way? Sadly, he knew he had.
He looked over at Jess, who was eyeing him with concern. “I don’t know what I should do. I’ve never had to deal with a drug addict under my roof before. There have been a few past lovers who were a little too fond of the sauce and a couple of potheads, but nothing like this. Am I expected to stage some sort of—what do they call it—inversion?”
Jess laughed. “Intervention. For one, you need to start off by talking to him.” She leaned in closer. “Although I don’t believe right now is really a good time. I suspect just as much of that white powder I saw in the room is also inside him. He’s not too coherent right now, so appealing to his sense of reason probably isn’t going to get you much of anywhere.” Jess paused. “But the kid looks bad. I mean he looks like he’s on death’s doorstep. Somebody needs to do something, before it’s too late. If it isn’t you, maybe you could get in touch with his family?”
“Oh God! That’s even worse. I’ve never even met most of them. Can you imagine what it would be like having his son’s sugar daddy show up on their doorstep with news that their son is a junkie?” Robert shook his head. “I’m not so sure they’d welcome me with open arms.” Robert sat up straighter, surveying the penthouse. All of this luxury is mine and yet my life is one big ball of misery. Why couldn’t Ethan be happy with all I could give him? Robert felt a lump forming in his throat.
Jess patted his back. “Listen. I know I just threw a lot of bad news your way. And I meant what I said: we don’t, and probably shouldn’t, do anything right now. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone up there. But, something needed to be done before you were forced to call 911 to carry an OD out of here.”
Robert nodded, miserable. “So what? We just sit down and eat our fish? Drink some wine? Have a few laughs?”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Tomorrow, in the morning, maybe you can talk to him…maybe even later tonight.” She stood. “Let me get us dinner.” She started toward the kitchen. “I know my way around a kitchen better than you might think.” She smiled. “Let me take care of you for once.”
“For once?” Robert slumped back into the couch’s leather cushions. It occurred to him that, for years, he had been the one taking care of other people. Now, he realized that no one had ever really returned the favor for him, not even Keith, even though it wasn’t his fault. This made him sad. “Go ahead. The salmon’s in the fridge. You should find everything else you need out there. Just holler if you need help finding anything.” His words came out in a monotone. He had never felt more morose, or less like eating.
* * * *
Ethan stirred. He lay still on the bed, listening. His eyes fluttered open, and for several minutes, he didn’t know where he was. He looked around the bedroom, and it all seemed new to him, as foreign and unfamiliar as a hotel room. And then he had an even more alarming revelation: he didn’t even know who he was, as if his memory had been wiped clean.
There were voices in the room with him. At first, he couldn’t make them out, because they were whispering, but gradually, words became clearer. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the voices: two men with deep voices.
“If Ethan would just go down there and get the old man out onto that balcony, all of his problems would be solved.”
“You mean, like, give him a shove? God, that’s cold.”
“Cold as shit. But drastic times call for drastic measures, dude.”
“Come on, man, think with your head. Even if the kid could do the deed, how’s he gonna pull it off with that little girl down there?”
The room went silent, and Ethan strained to hear the voices once more. He was afraid to open his eyes again for two reasons: one, because he would open them and find no one there; two, because he would open them and find someone there. He didn’t know which prospect was more terrifying.
So he stayed put, inert, on his bed, eyes shut and waiting. Little details of what had happened before he passed out began filtering back in—the girl, Jess, coming in and busting him at his little party foremost among them.
The voices started up again.
“It’s a final solution and would be the answer to all of his problems.”
“Yeah…a million bucks can solve lots of problems.”
Ethan opened his eyes and turned his head toward the direction from where the voices came. He was not surprised to find the room empty. He sighed. He had heard of people suffering from paranoia and hallucinations after having been involved with Tina for too long, but thought it could never happen to him.
He sat up slowly, testing his breathing and heart rate, wiping a slick sheen of sweat from his face with a sheet already damp from perspiration.
I need to do it.
The thought made him sad. He remembered back before he met up with this mistress called Tina. He and Robert had been somewhat happy together then. The two of them had taken trips, gone shopping together, eaten fabulous meals. The sex was never much to speak of, but Robert had always been so caring and nurturing.
How can I just kill him?
You have to. It’s the only way out. You’ve dug yourself in a hole so deep someone has to die. It’s a matter of self-preservation. One of you has to go. It might as well be the older of the two of you.
Ethan shook his head. He was feeling marginally better. His memory returned in fits and starts. At least he was breathing easier as the drug settled to a more comfortable buzz, like nerve impulses shooting through his system every few seconds. It was pleasant. Why can’t it just go on like this? Because it can’t. Because you’ll die. Ethan wished there were some other way, but as he sat up, groping on the ash and crystal meth-littered floor for his clothes, he realized there was no one to help him but himself.
He shrugged into a sweatshirt and pulled on his jeans, then sat, breathing harder and hooked a Puma sneaker with his foot and pulled it toward him. Grateful that the shoes did not require lacing and tying, he slid them on and secured the Velcro closures.
Ethan stood. The room was quiet, the TV screen still frozen on the image of interracial anal penetration. Downstairs, he heard nothing. Someone must have shut off the music. The party, he supposed, had ended for more than just himself. He couldn’t imagine the hatred Robert must feel for him now, couldn’t imagine the suffering he would endure if Robert threw him out of the only home he now had.
He walked across the room, then stepped back. Groping in the tiny baggie with his key, he allowed himself one small bump to fortify himself.
Ethan wished the agenda was written out for him, longed for knowledge of clear, decisive action that would take him from point A to point B. But all he had was an unholy desire to kill someone he cared about…and no plan for going about it, no strategy for making it as quick and painless as possible. He hoped he could live with himself after he had seen Robert, arms pinwheeling, falling through the night sky toward the concrete below.
He prayed a million dollars would be compensation enough.
Chapter 15
Jess sat across from Robert at the table. Candles in silver holders flickered, casting alternating light
and dark across his handsome, but depressed, features. Neither of them spoke. Neither had eaten any of the dinner Jess had assembled and put on plates for them. The table, with its linens, cutlery, fine china, and carefully arranged food, looked more like a setup for some home interior or gourmet magazine than it did a celebratory dinner for two.
“Should I go?” Jess asked in a small voice.
“I wish you wouldn’t. When I invited you over to spend the night, I thought it was more for your benefit, now I see it’s much more for my own.” Robert’s eyes shone in the candlelight. “Please…I can’t be alone.”
Jess nodded. “Of course. You wanna just watch a movie or something? I can clean this up tomorrow.” She gestured at the plates, cutlery, and chilling food. “It might help take our minds off what needs to be done.”
“Why delay the inevitable?” Robert started to rise. “I need to go up there and get things out in the open.” He paused. “Things can’t be any worse than they are right now.” It felt like something small gnawed at the interior of his stomach.
Jess gave him a brave smile. “That’s the way to look at things. Do you want me to come with you?”
“Oh, I do, but this is something I need to face on my own. I—”
Robert stopped talking as he heard a creak on the staircase. They both turned toward the sound. Ethan stood about halfway down the flight of stairs, staring at them. His eyes were wide, and even from across the room, Robert could see that his enlarged pupils nearly blotted out his pale brown irises. His body looked emaciated, even beneath baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. His skin was sallow and slippery with sweat.
Robert bit his lip, realizing he felt nothing for this young man before him other than pity. And pity, while an emotion that indicated involvement, was no basis for a relationship.
Robert knew this partnership, or whatever one wanted to call it, was over, completely and unquestionably. And that made what he needed to do easier. There was simply no other way out than just ending it.
He started toward Ethan. “Hey…are you feeling okay?”
Ethan descended a few steps. “Feeling great. Why do you ask?”
Robert met him at the base of the spiral staircase. “Because, to be honest, you look like hell.”
He glanced back at Jess, who was sitting silently at the table, watching. She held herself tightly, her shoulders stiff, hands clasped before her.
“Gee thanks, old man. You sure know how to make a girl feel good.”
Robert stood face-to-face with Ethan. His ex-lover smelled sour, and he wanted to hold back his head to get some relief from the acrid stench radiating off the younger man’s body. Ethan smiled—an expression looking more like a death rictus. Robert noticed even his teeth were yellow, matching his skin’s pallor.
“I need to talk to you, Ethan.”
“That’s cool. Because I need to talk to you, too.”
Robert cocked his head, questioning. He wondered what was coming.
Ethan walked across the room and perched on the edge of a chair. He looked pointedly at Jess. “Do you think we could have some privacy?”
Robert wasn’t so sure he wanted Jess gone, but then again, could he be selfish enough to put her through what he knew was going to be a painful and traumatic encounter? After all, he barely knew her, in spite of whatever spiritual connection the two of them might share.
He turned toward her. “Jess, maybe you could clear the dishes?”
She hopped up from her seat, looking a little frightened, her gaze moving back and forth between himself and Ethan. “Um, sure.” She lifted a plate and started toward the kitchen.
Ethan groped in the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out a cigarette, lit it. “That’s not good enough. I want her out of here.”
“Ethan! She’s a guest in our home.”
“We need our privacy, Daddy.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “Will you stop calling me that, please?” He looked to Jess, who stood frozen near the entrance to the kitchen, plate in hand. “Jess, maybe you could run out and get a coffee? There’s a Starbucks over on Clark.” He groped for his wallet and started to pull out some bills.
Jess set the plate back down on the table. “It’s okay. I’ve got money. Are you sure you want me to go?”
Robert was not sure at all. But Ethan was probably right, even if he were half out of his mind with drugs. This might go better if it were just the two of them. “Yeah, just give us an hour or so.”
Jess nodded slowly, moving toward the front closet where earlier she had seen Robert hang her coat. “I have my cell with me.” She paused at a little secretary desk near the front door and wrote something on a Post-It. “Just give me a buzz if you need anything.”
“Sure. But I’m certain we’ll be fine.” He glanced back at Ethan. A weird smile was playing across his sunken features. Suddenly, Robert was reminded of Keith’s sunken face during his final days. His stomach continued to churn.
“Okay, okay, then.” Jess let out a shaky breath, then looked toward Ethan and made her voice loud. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Ethan grinned. “An hour should be just fine for us.”
Robert said, “You’ll find a set of keys in the secretary, there. Why don’t you take them with you, so you won’t have to bother with the doorman when you come back.” Robert wasn’t sure why, but he wanted Ethan to know Jess could come back at any time, unannounced.
Jess grabbed the keys from the desk, backed toward the door, and reached out blindly with her hand for the knob. She pulled the door open, and in an instant, she was gone.
The silence following her exit was like a vacuum.
Robert turned to Ethan. “So…should I start?” He looked at Ethan’s smoldering cigarette. “I wish you wouldn’t—”
A smile lit up Ethan’s face so brightly, it was almost as if the old Ethan had returned, for just a second. “Why sure, Robert, I completely forgot you don’t want me to smoke inside, especially down here in the, what do you call it, common area.” He put out the cigarette in a Nambe tray on the coffee table. “But I think I’m gonna need a few ciggies to make it through our little talk.” His smile widened, and Robert wondered why it looked predatory. “So why don’t we grab our coats and head out to the balcony?”
Robert turned and looked at the darkness pressing against the glass door that led to the balcony. “But it’s cold.”
“That’s why we should grab our coats.” Ethan frowned. “Can’t you do this much for me? I’m nervous.” Ethan stood and headed toward the glass doors. “Come on.”
Standing in the cold was not how Robert had imagined their conversation taking place. But if the young man really needed to smoke…“Okay. Let me grab a fleece. I’ll be okay.”
“I’m sure you will. You know, I think this sweatshirt should be enough for me. I feel kinda hot.” He brushed the sweat dripping from his hairline and let it drop from his fingertips to the floor. “Let’s go outside,” Ethan said quietly.
Robert followed him, noticing how Ethan’s hands trembled. Probably from the drugs…
* * * *
Jess was having second thoughts. She stood, hands stuffed in her pockets to ward off the cold and looked east down the street for an approaching cab. The walk to Clark Street was a short one, but the temperature had plunged in the last hour or two, and she didn’t want to travel the short distance in an inadequate, albeit vintage, coat.
In Robert’s neighborhood, unlike her own, cabs were plentiful, and Jess knew one would be along any second now. As if to confirm her thoughts, she saw a yellow vehicle approaching a couple blocks down. She moved toward the curb, ready to raise her arm to hail the cab, and stopped. I can’t. I just can’t leave the two of them alone. There was something awry in the scene she had left. She didn’t know what it was, but there was something so off kilter between the two men it made her shiver even more than she already was from the cold. The cab approached, and Jess watched it sail by, empty.
They need th
eir privacy. Can’t you just give them an hour? This is hard for Robert. She supposed the confrontation would be difficult for Ethan, too, even as chemically numbed as he was.
In spite of this last thought, Jess turned back toward the building. She didn’t quite understand her motivation, but felt it was absolutely necessary for her to be in the condo. Icy fingers of dread caressed the base of her spine and even though she’d never felt that she possessed any kind of sixth sense, she feared something awful was about to happen. Her rational mind told her it was probably nothing more terrible than some tears, maybe some histrionics, especially on Ethan’s part, but if she didn’t go back right now, she could never forgive herself. It was as if Robert was calling her back, pulling her with an irresistible force.
She quickened her pace. It was only two blocks to Robert’s building down the winter-quiet side street. Jess looked up to see the lights shining in the penthouse. The unit occupied the entire top floor, and her view was of the back of the condo. She caught a whiff of lake air coming toward her as the wind picked up, racing across Lake Michigan and picking up the brackish scent of the cold, black waters.
She slowed as she neared the corner where she would turn and enter the lobby. Maybe I shouldn’t use the key. Maybe I should just have the doorman announce me. I can at least let them have that much warning I’m coming. Even as she thought these sensible things, she was discarding them. She picked up her pace and ran toward the lobby. Just before she got to the circular drive, she looked up, craning her neck and casting her head back as far as it would go.
Two figures stood on Robert’s balcony.
* * * *
The two men had not said much since they emerged out onto the balcony. The wind bit their faces—so intense and fierce it was painful.
Robert blew out a sigh. This is stupid. Let him finish that blasted cigarette and we go back inside. “Do you really want to be out here? It’s freezing. This is ridiculous.”
