The House that Jack Built

by Malcolm James

  “Yeah?” I replied as I leaned over the bar and tried to get a bartender’s attention. “Great. I’ll bet they all want you, too.” My words were dry and without pretense of humor, and he knew it. But he couldn’t care less. He preferred it that way.

  Winking, he took another drink of his beer. I finally caught the attention of a bartender and pointed to my empty MGD bottle through the blaring of thick backbeats and booming vocals. My lips said ‘MGD,’ but my eyes said ‘another, and please hurry!’

  Sitting back on the stool, I decided to voice my objection about the seating arrangements.

  “Why don’t we get a table? It’ll be easier to talk to them.” It’ll be easier for me to talk to them.

  He shrugged, because he knew what I meant. He had no interest in changing the seating arrangements if there was nothing in it for him, and I knew it wasn’t about to happen without my active intervention. Even in my alcohol-heightened state, I knew he’d resist it. I felt like a dog sitting pathetically at the edge of a table, waiting for any scraps that may – or may not – come my way. Pavlov’s bitch.

  Fortunately, they must have been talking about the same thing in the bathroom. When they came back, the appointed leader, I suppose – a tall leggy blonde with a rack that made this eunuch blush – suggested we grab a table.

  Of course, Jack had no recourse and was peeved by the minor defeat. I nodded voraciously and smiled at him as I stood up. I didn’t win many victories over him and I relished each one, as if it was my last meal.

  We found a table, off in the corner and away from the sound system. Now that they were no longer an obstructed view by virtue of the back of Jack’s head, I noticed the redhead. It was hard not to, because she was obviously taking note of me. I’d seen all three of them when they sat down, but my disinterest had been feeding off plentiful helpings of Jack ego. It was just a passing, drunken leer before I was forced to leer at the back of his well-coiffed head. Now that I saw her, I sobered up – a little.

  She told me her name, but it faltered under the pounding beats of Tupac Shakur. I smiled and nodded when she told me, and told myself it didn’t matter. Or so I thought. Perhaps I would have done things differently, if I was listening instead of drinking.

  We huddled closely and, our conversation flowed easily through rivers of liquor. We could almost hear each other over the reverberating drone of the music. Jack and I bought a couple of rounds of shooters to get them plied, greased and ready for impaling.

  It worked too, for they were laughing in drunken, girlish giggles, as if Jack and I were a rock band and they were ready to throw their panties on the stage. I don’t remember most of what Red and I spoke of, but it didn’t matter. The sexual innuendo was locked and loaded, and every time I thought my words had just jumped off a bridge, she came back with something even raunchier.

  But despite the alcohol haze, my reservations grew proportionately with the fire in my groin. What am I doing? Memories of Elizabeth’s smiling eyes washed over the inebriated ocean in my head, a tiny boat being tossed about. I was desperately trying to figure out why I had put myself in this situation when she put her hand on mine.

  “How do we get out of this?” Sheepish cuteness and the touch of her hand were all it took. I desperately wanted to kiss her glistening red lips. But I didn’t know how to respond, partly because I was drunk. But mostly because all I could think of was Elizabeth.

  I didn’t know what to do. I thought of taking a page from the Book of Jack and considered that distance was an instant license to cheat. Hell, she’s probably cheating on me. But I was lying to myself and I knew it.

  That made it even worse: that I was considering doing this made me feel like Jack, and I ought to have felt the guilt that washed her tiny boat far out to sea. It crashed in violent waves onto my conscience; but they were vain, impotent attempts that tried to make a dent on my troubled heart. I didn’t have time to think about it, though. Before I could respond to her question, Jack struck and my fate was sealed.

  “Hey. We’re heading out.” Jack stood over me – I hadn’t even noticed him getting up. Red’s friends were on each arm and his beaming face stood in the middle. Normally, I would have been insanely jealous, but under the circumstances, I was ecstatic and panicked. His departure was the perfect solution to one of my problems. If he left with just one of them, then I’d be forced to redirect my conversation to the remaining two. I’d be going home empty-handed.

  Well, not entirely empty-handed. The palm twins would take care of me, because no-one else would. But the intensity of my raging debate over Elizabeth formed rings of electricity that shocked my being. As it should have. I had no place being there. And with Jack gone, I had no-one left but myself, to blame for my actions.

  “See ya.” He winked at me and paraded off with his new set of training wheels. I looked at Red. There was a devilish gleam in her eyes, but the Devil wasn’t in her.

  He was in me.

  Chapter 14

  “So how do you feel about your friends…y’know?” I gestured toward the exit. She shrugged and sucked on a cherry before snapping it into her mouth with a loud slurp.

  “They do it all the time. Hell, I do too.” She giggled while I nodded and swayed from side to side. I thought about Elizabeth and shoved my drink away from me. I didn’t need any more.

  “So why didn’t you go with them?” She rolled her eyes for a moment, as if there was actually something going on up there and she wanted to see what it was.

  “Uhm, I’m not really in the mood?” She was making a statement, but she made it sound like a question. Sighs of relief were shoved aside by my outraged member. My integrity and faithfulness were to be intact, even if my ego wasn’t. Maybe I did need to get another. I peered at the bartenders and wondered if ordering another would be a clear sign that I needed to get drunker.

  “I’m in more of a one-on-one mood tonight.” She placed her palm on my crotch. As she stroked my erection through denim, it laughed at me and said ‘so there!’ Guess I wasn’t going to get off that easily.

  We waited the customary five minutes after they left so we wouldn’t run into them outside, and then made our way to the exit. As we stood and waited for a taxi, she crooked her arm into mine and got close.

  “It’s cold,” The tone of her voice made it sound like an excuse, but it was a lame one. While there was a breeze blowing off the Detroit River, it was unseasonably warm. Her red hair was soft and felt like tens of thousands of miniscule downy fingers stroking my skin. As we waited, my head cleared a bit and it occurred to me that I had no idea what her name was.

  I thought back. She introduced herself, but I was too busy. Too busy trying to catch her unintelligible words over the blaring music, Too busy staring at her blonde friend’s tits and draining my seventh – or tenth – MGD. Dammit.

  I froze. I wasn’t sure how to handle that one. If I was going to tell her that there was no way I was sleeping with her, it would be helpful to have a name. I suppose I could have just brought it up, but I didn’t want to ruin my chance to nail her.

  Okay, I know. I was severely conflicted. Every moment I stood there with her, I thought of Elizabeth and convinced myself that there was no way I was going to cheat on her. But in between those moments, the scent of Red’s shampoo flowed through my nostrils and the warm moisture of her breath on my chest had my penis doing chin-ups.

  You have to remember: I hadn’t had sex in months. If the person you cheat on is the last one you were faithful to, then I wasn’t cheating on Elizabeth. I was cheating on the palm twins.

  A taxi pulled up to the curb and I began to panic. Getting into the back seat of a cab with her was the sobering moment. Elizabeth was there with us. As I looked at her, she snuggled closely. The scent of her hair and perfume was overwhelming. And as her head leaned against my shoulder, I felt the sensation of teeth biting into my skin through my shirt. Okay. There’s still time to fix this.

  “Where are you going?” I whispered
it into her head as if I was saying ‘I can’t wait to see you naked.’ Alcohol and my dick were staging a coup d’etat, and all I could do was reach down and stroke her knee. Her tight jeans felt coarse and smooth at the same time. As my hand rubbed down and up from knee to thigh, she took the cue and upped the stakes.

  “Wherever you’re going, stud.” She giggled and raised her head to look at me. As her soft hair brushed against my face, a pair of alcohol-sweet lips touched mine. Her warm, moist tongue explored the inside of my mouth. She tasted like White Russians, but I like White Russians.

  “Your place.” My words struggled their way out as my hand graduated to the middle of her legs. She moaned out her address to the cabbie.

  Her place was near the WSU campus. We necked for the entire ride, but not long after our first kiss and my wayward stroking of her thighs, her hand began to stroke my dockers. While she rubbed my stiffened groin, I opened my eyes and saw the cabbie looking intermittently in the rear-view mirror. I don’t know if he was getting his jollies or leering in disapproval, but it was most uncomfortable.

  It reminded me of the way Elizabeth’s face might look.

  But it was too late to worry about that. The coup was over and I was a prisoner of war. My hand was between the tight apex that was the terminus of her legs, and the entrance to Paradise. Her legs closed in on my hand like a steel trap as I forced my fingers up and down her crotch. I felt her heat and moisture through jeans and our tongues continued to explore when we arrived at our destination.

  I pulled myself away long enough to fumble for my wallet. My hard-on was throbbing in unison with my racing heart and I wanted to get her inside. I waited in starving anticipation as she struggled with her purse to find keys. When she cautioned me about not waking her roommates, I acquiesced, and we silently skulked inside. For the last time that night, I thought about Elizabeth.

  ***

  Once we got our respective pounding of flesh, we drifted off, and after a dreamless sleep I awoke with a raging headache.

  For the first thirty seconds, I had no idea where I was. The sun shone garishly through mini-blinds, and I turned my eyes away until they looked at a poster of Jim Morrison. That black-and-white portrait of him bare-chested, arms spread wide and long hair flowing around his shoulders. It was poorly-placed next to a picture of a kitten hanging from a tree limb. ‘Hang in there baby.’

  Yeah, I’m hanging alright.

  There was a colorful unicorn print and pictures of people I didn’t know, propped on a desk and dresser. Bottles of perfume, skin cream, hairspray and a box of tampons confirmed where I was. Panicked, I looked over and saw her lying there. She was just coming to.

  Ohmigod! It wasn’t a dream!

  She wasn’t nearly as attractive as I ‘remembered’ her. Rough features were accompanied by rough skin and a small scar on her right cheek. She smiled and squinted at me with hangover eyes. At least she was miserable, too.

  She didn’t say anything. Just reached over and kissed me. Her lips were rough and dry. I could feel the flaking skin and she tasted like a night on the town. Booze, cigarettes and sex.

  I got over the morning-after blues the minute she grabbed me. Even though my big head throbbed with agony, my little one throbbed a joyful dance. Once we had sex, she got out of bed and walked toward the dresser. Her naked ass was a little wide but she had a great body. She grabbed her tampon box and winked at me.

  “I’m going to take a shower. You’re welcome to join me.” I just shook my head and mumbled something about needing to take a breather. Pointing to Tylenol on the dresser, she left the room. After getting up and chewing on three extra-strength Tylenols, I collapsed back into her pillows.

  It felt strange. Lying there in a strange bed, with strange things on the walls. I stared at the ceiling for awhile, and then realized that I still didn’t know her name. I espied her purse, and quickly sprang out of bed. After fumbling through a maze of coins, gum, condoms, birth control pills and a tampon, I finally grasped her wallet. When I flipped it open and looked at her driver’s license, I might as well have been shot dead.

  Her name was Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth Dubois. In Michigan it’s often pronounced ‘do-boys.’ She did me, alright.

  I folded up the wallet and put it back, leaving the purse as I found it. Flopping back on the bed, I pulled the covers over myself and shut my eyes.

  This isn’t happening.

  I shook my head and rolled over. Fate has a way of driving nails into your soul, slowly, over time and with great patience. What happened that night will haunt me forever.

  My guilt haunts me now, a chimera that refuses to let me sleep the dreamless nights which I so desperately crave.

  Chapter 15

  I was dressed by the time she returned from the shower. Despite her repeated protestations, I managed to escape without calling her by name, and I did it without giving her my number.

  My words were short, disjointed and muttered through a mouthful of guilty marbles. My mind swam in the middle of a storm of confusion. Seeing her name on that driver’s license was pure coincidence, but it was a message from my religion – Elizabeth. It was tearing down my giant wall of denial.

  I betrayed her. There was no undoing that. I didn’t know if I could live with my horrible sin. In bargaining mode, my mind made a deal with my heart. We would both make dead certain that she would never know about it. But I had to ask myself: How do I keep a lie like this for the rest of my miserable life?

  How can I look at her again, knowing what I know?

  I let her down. Why? Why did I do it? What possessed me to take everything that I cherish –No! adore and adulate – and dismiss it like I was Jack…?

  Like I had become Jack.

  Oh God.

  As I considered that disturbing revelation, my stomach churned and I thought I was going to toss my cookies in the cab. What have I done?

  I returned to the dorm while I formulated the ways in which I would keep this from her forever. But I forgot about all that when I walked into our room.

  Something’s wrong.

  Jack was sitting with his back to the door. He faced the window, and while it shouldn’t have, his demeanor silenced me to the core of my soul. I don’t know why, but I knew that something wasn’t right when I walked in and saw the back of his head. He was prone and unresponsive, even to my noisy entrance. I paused for a moment and peered at his silhouette while he sat quietly and ignored me.

  Frowning, I slowly walked toward him.

  “Jack? You okay?” He didn’t acknowledge my presence. But when I looked down at him, I understood why he was unresponsive. A horrendous shock ran down my spine, and my mind was disabled with the onset of ice cream brainfreeze. The feeling which occurs when one is caught off-guard by an inconceivable, unbelievable sight. The thing that changes your life forever.

  His head bobbed from side to side, then round and round. I was close enough that I could hear his slow, steady breathing. It was raspy and deliberate.

  I saw him holding something and it took me a moment to discern it. His hands loosely clasped what looked to be the Icarus amulet. He just stared at it, as if he was looking into the eyes of God. Or the Devil.

  He was still wearing the same clothes from the night before. They were tousled and unkempt. I could smell the sweet musky scent of sex that emanated from him, but another scent tried desperately to overpower it. When I saw his arms, I knew what it was before its stench registered in my brain.

  From elbows to palms, both arms and hands were black. The garish color stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t help but stare with dumfounded panic. His shirt was covered with it too. It clung to his body as if it was still wet. But it wasn’t.

  The blood was everywhere.

  At that moment his face fell back toward me and I leapt in fear and shock. It was as if his head was about to fall off of his neck. But he wasn’t dead. His eyes were wide open.

  They were black. Blacker than the blo
od, if that’s possible, and devoid of any apparent emotion or conscious thought. The blood stained his pants in large, irregular blotches. It was in his hair, on his neck, and it had been sprayed all over his face. A large streak ran across his brow, very much as if he had wiped a bloody hand on his forehead.

  “Jack!” I hissed his name and frantically looked for a towel. The panic began to set in and my actions seemed to occur at light speed. I began talking to him, in a desperate attempt to keep him conscious.

  “Jack! Stay with me, Jack! Look at me!

  “Jack, can you hear my voice?” I spun him around on the swivel chair and grabbed his arms. I looked for something to tie up his wrists, but I stopped. Suddenly, and with a most troubling confusion.

  “What…?”

  The touch of his arms and a closer inspection caused me to fall silent. Suddenly, a new horror announced itself at the entrance to my mind.

  It was dry. There was no fresh blood. I visually scoured him for wounds, but there were no apparent cuts on his body.

  I can’t remember much of what happened after that. I guess I let go of his arms and fell back, landing on the floor with all my weight. The last thing I remember was the base of my neck slamming against my bed’s metal box spring. I lost consciousness, and what happened next I cannot explain.

  Chapter 16

  The corridor was unending.

  Cowering, I peered into the darkness and wondered what that stench was. It was like ozone and charred flesh. A small corner of my soul made a makeshift haven, but I crouched and shivered as I listened to quiet undulations that might have been my breath.

  ‘Drip, drip, drip:’ it echoed as if the sound had traveled a thousand miles. I shivered and couldn’t help but notice its exponential growth with each reverberation. The fever of trepidation held onto me as if I might actually escape its spell. My heart thumped with the terror that stalked me.