by Mike McCrary
“That’s it, Big Fun?” Justin says. “You done with the talky talk?”
“I don’t know what else to tell you.”
There’s a pause. A wall of silence from Justin’s side of the conversation.
Davis grips the phone, squeezing trying to give himself some form comfort.
Justin begins clucking his tongue, a now familiar sound Davis is learning to hate. Seconds crawl. Time seemingly stops. Justin whispers some things Davis can’t quite make out. Maybe he’s counting. Maybe he’s reciting something. Lyrics to a song. Davis can’t even tell if Justin is using words or just gibberish.
“You’re right,” Justin finally says. “We should really figure this the hell out. It’s silly really. Hate to make your life any worse than you already have.”
The coldness in his voice shakes Davis to the bone.
“Justin?”
He’s hung up.
Davis looks around the coffee shop. Everybody going about their day, moving through their lives. Some are laughing and enjoying conversations with friends. Others have their noses buried in books, phones or laptops. Davis’s envy for them burns. He possibly hates them. Wishes he were one of them. He wishes he could go back to being a guy at a coffee shop, back to being the Davis before all of this.
Before LA.
Before Justin.
Davis drives home, trying to let his conversation with Justin fade into the background. He listens to a podcast about fantasy football. Tries silence. Tries some music. None of it is working. The conversation sticks. Echoing like a hammer driving nails in a vacant house.
It was the tone Justin used more than the words. It was how he talked to Davis that has him worried. Justin wasn’t mad or nervous or anything vaguely like it. He had complete control at all times. Never once did he raise his voice or fumble over his words. It was like everything he said was carefully scripted ahead of time. Like it was curated by an expert of calm and cool, then the lines were fed to Justin so he could repeat them to Davis.
Davis walks into the house. The kids and Hattie won’t be home for a while, so Davis kicks off his shoes and flops onto the couch, still trying to get his head around the call with Justin. Normally he’d appreciate the time to himself, but not today. He’d love to have the distraction of his family right now. Justin’s words still echo in his ears.
We should really figure this the hell out.
Hate to make life any worse than you already have.
The phone buzzes. This time it is a text from Justin.
Davis lets his finger hover over his phone, not wanting to see what is waiting for him. Not after that last conversation. Not wanting to see the message that’s hanging in digital purgatory, begging to be seen. It’s going to be about money that he doesn’t have. Like the worst bill collector in history. Davis pulls his hand back, but he knows he has no choice.
He taps the screen. No words in the text.
None needed.
There’s only a single image. A picture of Davis smiling wide, holding a bottle of Knob Creek, surrounded by women. Gorgeous women. Some topless. Some in lacey bras and panties. Davis doesn’t recognize any of them. Tilley’s not there, and neither is the green-eyed beauty. He stands up, pacing the room now.
Phone buzzes. His shaking finger taps the screen faster this time.
Another pic comes through. He almost drops his phone.
It’s an image of Davis kissing Tilley. Neither is wearing clothes. Naked bodies wrapped around each other, his hand squeezing her breast.
Another text. This one does contain words.
did u have the time of your life?
20
The phone slips from his fingers, falling to the floor.
The dog sniffs at it.
Davis leans back against the wall, his face void of expression, as if it melted away. He can’t focus on a single thought as they pop like popcorn bouncing off the walls of his skull.
How can I not remember?
Not any of that?
It was like looking at someone else in those pictures. Someone else who’d stolen his face, taken over his body. That can’t be him. How could it be?
His life is ruined. He’s completely undone his place in this world in a single night. Shattered it all into a million pieces, with no hope of putting it back together. Not if those pictures get out.
Davis slides down the wall, taking a seat on the floor while staring out into the void, a place far away, deep out into the universe that only he can see. His eyes slip over to his phone on the floor where he dropped it. He feels something inside him unhinge, like the stitching that’s holding him together is tearing.
Davis dives forward, grabbing the phone. He’s now lying flat on his stomach as he frantically dials Justin. The dog licks his face. Davis pushes him aside.
The phone rings.
“Pick up,” Davis says through grinding teeth.
The rings sound one after the other.
“Come on.”
Davis stands up as the phone continues to ring and ring. He hangs up then calls Justin again. Another chorus of empty rings with no answer. Davis slams the phone down on the kitchen counter.
“I was just talking to you!” he screams.
He starts pacing like a madman, pausing only to wrap his face in his hands. Veins plump up on the sides of his neck. Another one rises up on his forehead. His skin feels hot, like he’s burning from the inside out. He hates himself for what he’s done.
The lying to Hattie.
All he’s now laid on Todd.
Davis knows now that he did do something. Before he saw those pictures, he didn’t know and he could live in the delusion that he was innocent in all this. He was safe in not knowing.
Now he does.
Hattie trusted him.
Todd is trying to help.
Davis is void of innocence. He’s dragging them both down into the muck right along with him. The speed of his pacing escalates. Manic movement back and forth, turning here and there, zigzagging across the living room with no real pattern or reason for his motions.
The dog follows him, thinking it’s a game.
Davis’s mind races, running through the things he saw in those pictures. The things he’s done that his broken mind doesn’t recall. Things he should have done differently. He should have just gone up to his room and stayed there. Left Justin and Tilley at the bar. He’s a good person. A good man. That much he knows. At least he thought he knew it. One simple misstep. Can one damn mistake undo an entire lifetime of good?
He stops cold in the middle of the living room off a sound from the kitchen. The dog stops too. The phone is buzzing. Davis races over to the kitchen, snatching it from the counter. It’s Justin.
“Sorry I missed your call, Big Fun,” Justin says to him. “I was taking a dump.”
“Why the hell are you doing this? What’s the point?” Davis asks. “I’ve already agreed to pay you—”
“I’ve upgraded your entertainment package. Your bundle has been upsized.”
Davis’s face drops.
“See, if you’d paid me in the first place, meaning not ignoring me like you did, we could’ve stayed with Package B. But because you thought silence was golden, and it’s not by the way, I’ve had to move you up to Package A.”
“Justin—”
“Hey, hey.” Justin snaps his fingers, shifting fast to a hard, cold tone. “You had a chance. My turn now, and you need to listen to the shit I have to say.”
Davis takes in a deep breath.
“Listening ears on?”
“Yes,” Davis says, barely above a whisper.
“Good. Where the hell was I? Oh yeah. Package A is actually a great value for you. It’s only a grand a week for the rest of your life.”
Davis’s eyes glaze over. The words for the rest of your life hang in the air. He doesn’t even try to do the math on that. Justin could have said a million a week, wouldn’t matter. Davis can’t pay either one. Davis’s mouth
goes dry. His head rattles as he feels words swell to the back of his tongue, unable to bring them all the way out.
Justin clucks his tongue, pauses, then starts up again.
“Now, a grand a week isn’t nearly enough for me to live on.” Justin sighs. “But I don’t need to, because each new Package A that I sell only adds to my portfolio. I don’t need to tell you about the need for multiple streams of income.”
Davis holds on to the kitchen counter for support. He thinks of his first conversation with Justin, back in LA. He told Davis about how he wouldn’t believe how many packages he sold to Hollywood, Fortune 500 companies, athletes and so on. And now he has Davis. Davis the customer. The client.
“You might want to do what past customers have done—use that financial weight to fuel you.”
Davis tries again to get out some words, but all he can manage comes out as a frail whisper of nothingness.
“Turn that new thousand a week payment need into desire, a burning desire for you to come up with a new way to make an additional thousand a week over the top of your living expenses. I want you to live, of course. How else am I going to make my money?” Justin giggles. “It’ll force you to be creative. In turn, you’ll come up with something much bigger than a grand a week. Smart kid like you? You’ll hatch a new million-dollar idea that changes everything.”
“I –" Davis finally gets out.
“Wait, wait, wait. I got it. Damn, man, this is good,” Justin says. “You’re going to dig this one. New package, just for you. A package with a one-time exit plan. A balloon payment, if you will. You ready for this, Big Fun?”
Davis sits down, letting the deafening silence swell, not wanting to say a thing. He can’t wait to hear what Justin has to say, but doesn’t want to hear what’s next.
“You kill someone of my choosing and I forget the whole goddamn enchilada.”
Davis closes his eyes. Bad went to hopeless in no time flat.
“I’m kidding. Kinda. Maybe. Not really, but think about it anyway,” Justin says, then hangs up.
21
Davis flies out the front door.
His eyelids stretch wide, tears forming in the corners. He walks slowly, clumsy and barefoot, down his neighborhood street, ignoring the heat of the concrete. The sun beats down on him. Sweat begins to bead on his forehead.
Dead man walking, he thinks.
His phone hangs from his lifeless arm. This phone, it holds all his pain and his salvation at the same time. Everything that is wrong is in this hunk of plastic. The texts. The emails. The pictures. It also contains the only hope for answers. For resolution. He lifts the phone and spins through his recent calls. Stabbing a finger, he selects a number.
“Hey—” Todd answers.
“Tell me you’ve got something.”
“Nothing good.”
“What?” Davis barks, spit flying from his lips.
“Davis, you’ve got to bring it down.”
“Are you kidding me? Did you really just say that? This is getting out of control.”
“What happened?”
Davis takes a deep breath. “He’s got pictures. Pictures, Todd.”
“Okay, that’s not great but—"
Davis’s phone buzzes.
It’s another text from Justin. Another picture. This one is worse. Hands. Mouths. Tongues twisting with several women. Another one comes in. Then another and another. The pictures are escalating. Each is the same, and yet different at the same time. Each one is a graphic image of Davis getting a blowjob, only each picture shows him with a different woman. Women Davis doesn’t recognize. One with pink hair. One blonde. One Hispanic and another Asian.
Each picture showing him a sexual past he does not recall.
A spectator to his own pornography.
“What is going on?” Davis hears Todd ask through the speaker as his eyes slip in and out of focus while staring down at the texts that keep rolling in.
“Are you still there?”
Davis thinks about throwing the phone in the gutter and just running away. Running hard and fast and continuing to run until his lungs collapse. Until his legs wilt, give out, fold underneath him. Running away until he’s so far gone that none of this matters. Hattie and the girls would be better off. Better without a man like him in their lives.
“Davis!” Todd yells.
Another text buzzes. The sound stabs like a cold blade.
none of these look like Hattie
Davis wants to throw up. It’s not only the words in Justin’s text, it’s what’s lurking behind them. He’s telling Davis things in the spaces between the words. Saying he’ll be happy to show these to Hattie. That he knows what Hattie looks like. That he knows how to reach her.
Is he following her? Watching her? Watching the house? My family?
Davis’s world stops spinning. Everything becomes very clear, very fast. He raises the phone. “This has to stop, now.”
“Okay. Take a deep damn breath—”
“The hell with that shit.” Davis stops, completely unaware there’s a world around him. “He’s going to come after my family. Hattie, the girls.”
Todd pauses. Resets. “Okay, listen. I talked to the lawyer.”
“And?”
“And it’s not great. Extortion, and now blackmail, yes, that’s all illegal, but that wouldn’t stop Justin from releasing all that anyway. And, just thinking out loud here, now we don’t know what else he has.”
Davis looks to the sky, letting the sun beat down on his sweaty face and neck.
“Davis, we need to think about something else here.”
“What?”
“We need to think about the company, too.”
A shudder rattles through Davis.
“We don’t know what that guy can do to the company. We have no idea what he has.”
“He showed me—”
“Do you know he showed you everything?”
Davis doesn’t answer.
“Do you know he doesn’t have other stuff?”
Davis breathes in deep, closing his eyes. “No.”
“If we don’t know what else he’s got, then how do we know what he can tie to the company. If he releases a bunch of sick shit and that all gets linked to our company—”
Honk!
A car is behind him.
Davis wandered into the middle of the street and is standing there like a crazy person. He waves the car around then walks over to the side of the street and takes a seat on the curb. In all of this happening to him, he didn’t even think about the company. Didn’t consider the potential damage it might cause. The possibility that he’s put Todd and the company in jeopardy. The thought that he could bring the whole thing down with his one reckless night in LA is crushing.
Davis thought selling the company would be a sign of failure. He didn’t want to do it. He let his ego cloud his judgment. If he had let Todd do that, hell, if he’d just heard the offer, maybe this would be different. If he had agreed to sell, none of this would have happened. They’d both be out, richer and not knee-deep in this disaster. It would have brought the security that Hattie has always wanted. The kind he could never give, always falling just short.
Davis feels a tremor rattle through his body as he understands what he’s done. The realization he has destroyed everything is crushing. His actions, his mistakes, his pride, his stupidity have ruined everything for everybody. Even the idea is too much to bear. He’ll never forgive himself.
“We’ve had that deal in our back pocket. I know you don’t like it, but if that gets compromised by some freaky shit, then that deal is gone in the wind.”
“I don’t want to sell, Todd. I don’t but—”
“I know you don’t. I get it, but it’s a nice parachute out if we decide we want to cash out. Right?”
“Yes.” Davis barely gets the word out.
“Davis.” Todd stops, then starts again. “The lawyer suggested something. It’s a little out there.”
>
“What?”
“A private investigator. He thinks we should bring in someone who’ll dig into this Justin guy and tell us what’s up with him. Maybe shake his tree a little bit.”
“Okay,” Davis says, willing do anything at this point. “Does he know somebody?”
“He does. I just need to give him the green light.”
Davis rubs his face. “Do it.”
“Good,” Todd says. “Why don’t you get out of town while this is going on?”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Go to that place of Hattie’s, her uncle’s place by the lake.”
“Her parents’.”
“Whatever. Take Hattie and girls out there for a while. That Justin guy won’t be able to find you out there. Then we can get the lawyer and the detective to work this thing out.”
Davis lets the idea roll around in his head.
“Tell Hattie you want to get some work done, need a change of scenery. It’s not a lie; you need to rework the security patch for next month anyway. Two birds.”
Davis knows Todd’s right.
He doesn’t know how he’s going to sell it to Hattie.
22
“Can we go to the cabin?” the girls ask, bouncing in circles around Hattie’s knees. “Please, please, please.”
Hattie looks to Davis with a grin.
How the hell is she supposed to say ‘no’ to this?
“Really?” she says, still eyeing Davis.
“Come on, it’ll be good for us. We can get out of town for a bit. I need to work on some things.”
“You can’t work here? What about my work?”
“You work from home all the time.”
“It’s not like that and you know it.”
“Just for a few days.”
“And them?” she asks, looking toward the girls.
“They’re off on Monday and Tuesday for teachers’ service days, so they’d only be really out for like a day or two.”
“Yeeessss!” the girls squeal.
Davis has boxed her into a corner and she feels it.
