“Shit!” I exclaimed loudly, realising the utter helplessness of my position. “There’s nothing I can do about this and that’s what so damn frustrating,” I screamed into the nothingness. No answers came back. It was deathly still and silent. Regathering my thoughts, I began to wonder just what in the hell Becky was doing getting tied up with Jake’s Lucy. She wasn’t even in the same circles as Lucy. Becky was a respectable girl, whereas Lucy... well, we all know what Lucy was... a cheap, twenty-pound a blowjob, drug-using whore. So, why on earth would they be together now?
If it had been physically possible, I would have said my brain was hurting with all this contemplation and introspection. There had to be a logical explanation for their tie-up, but what was it? And then it hit me, like a twenty-ton runaway locomotive. The four of us, Lucy, Becky, Jake and I, had just one thing in common. We hated and despised, with a passion, a little bitch by the name of Molly Sampson. God, that was it, we were all tied to each other in our desire to destroy my wife.
I smiled softly to myself. “Well... well... well...” I mused aloud, “with a dedicated team such as ours, how can we fail?” If we can just all work together, that arrogant, self-serving, little minx hasn’t got a chance, I thought. I began to chuckle.
The key was that we all had to work together. I began to formulate a plan, one that would ultimately see Molly’s sanity tested to the point where, if we were very lucky, she’d do something incredibly silly, or even find herself confined to a mental hospital after an inevitable breakdown. Oh yeah, Molly darling, it’s payback time. By the time I’d fleshed out the details, in my head, I knew I had some visiting and some spooking to do. Molly was first on my list.
***
I found Molly exactly where I’d expected her to be, sitting in front of her computer in the cubicle she occupied at the Sun-Star Daily. She’d clearly had some bad news as she was livid. She was sitting at her workstation banging her keyboard. At first, I thought she was actually hitting it, but as I peered over her shoulder, I realised she was typing an email, but she was hitting each key with enough force to break the damn thing. Wow, something bad has crawled up her nose and died, was my immediate thought. Leaning over her shoulder I started to read what she had written.
Dear Simon,
Your unwillingness to publish my brilliant piece of journalism is a clear reflection of your lack of imagination and your unwillingness to back your reporters. You have obviously spent far too long with your fat arse in that leather chair of yours and have forgotten what it is like to actually be a reporter.
As a Chief Editor, frankly Sir, you are a fucking joke and the butt of every piece of smutty humour that is thrown around out here, where the real people work.
You have put me in an untenable position and I have no option but to resign and take my “award winning story” (for that is what it surely will be) across the road to The Evening News, where I have little doubt my talents will be recognised and appreciated.
I would like to finish by saying what an enormous pleasure it has been to work with you, but sadly I can’t. You are a washed-up has-been whose time is long past. My only regret is I didn’t tell you earlier, to GET FUCKED! Now that I have, I feel so much better.
Yours disrespectfully,
Melissa Sampson
She stopped banging the keyboard like a demented baboon and put her head down on the desk, resting on her folded arms, her body wracked with sobs. Eventually, she lifted her head up and re-read her email to Simon and a large grin creased her face. “Ahhhh...” she breathed out audibly, “I needed that vent.”
Shaking her head softly, she added, “God, it felt good to get that out of my system, but I’d better not fucking send it. Jesus, even I’m not that bloody stupid.” She began to move her mouse across toward the ‘Cancel’ key on the screen.
Before she knew what had happened, I’d reached over her shoulder, grabbed the mouse from her hand and clicked the ‘Send’ key. I smiled as I noticed she had copied the email to the “all employee email list” for the Sun-Star Daily. I laughed to myself, thinking, she’s not getting out of this one, as the deadly missile sped out into the ether, aiming directly for Simon Reynold’s heart and ultimately Molly Sampson’s mind.
I left Molly to it then, hoping she could hear my laughter roaring in the background as I departed. Certainly, I could hear her, clear as a bell, screaming; “NO! FUCK! NO! OH MY FUCKING GOD! NOOOOOOOOOO!”
Phase one of my little plan was underway. Now, time to pay a visit to my little Jakey.
***
Jake was also exactly where I’d expected him to be. This was all getting to be too easy. There he was, sitting in his chair on our balcony, feet up on the table, a Famous Grouse in hand, looking very contented with himself. I stood there for several minutes just staring at him in profile - his strong jaw line, his beautiful, wavy hair, the way his aquiline nose swept down from his forehead and gave his whole face that classical beauty one only sees, these days, in Greek statues. My God, I thought, he really is one hell of a beautiful man. Taking a sip of his glass, he let out a contented sigh, a tiny grin playing across his lips and I noticed that beloved twinkle had returned to his eyes.
I’m not sure where the idea came from, but I found myself with this overwhelming urge to be inside of this man, to truly unite with my soulmate. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean in a physical sense, or do I? I mean, we’d already been about as close as two men can ever be, physically, without actually being lovers. But staring at him in repose, I had this incredible desire to be part of him, to actually be Jake, or perhaps more correctly to be Janiel or perhaps Dake. I laughed at the absurdity of the made up names, but, in a way, that best described what I was feeling.
Looking at him, I couldn’t help but notice things had changed. Gone was the sloppiness, the unkempt hair, the bristled chin. Jake had sharpened himself up again, he was back to his old self. It filled me with great pleasure to see that my darling Jakey was back. Still, though, I was possessed by this crazy idea of the pair of us being one, of finally joining the two halves of my soul together.
I knew I had some incredible powers, as a spirit, but I’d never really tested them fully until now. I moved to the front of Jake and flung his feet off the table. He didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised by the action. He just looked up at me and smiled, his eyes dancing merrily, with excitement, almost as if he’d been waiting for this moment all his life.
I took a deep breath, mouthed the words, “I love you,” and slowly walked into him. A big part of me expected to just come out the other side, the way I do when I walk through a door, but I didn’t. I actually entered Jake and stayed there.
I’m not sure if mere words can do justice to the feelings coursing through me at that moment. It was sublime and it was ridiculous, but most of all it was ecstatic. I felt Jake tremble as I settled inside of him and I could feel his nerves, his sinews and his muscles stretching and enfolding me in their loving embrace. The feeling was, I guess, like a massive orgasm, just ten-fold, or a hundred-fold, maybe even a thousand-fold. Colour exploded through my mind, every sense was heightened beyond belief. I could hear, feel and touch Jake’s heartbeat. As I explored deeper, I could wrap myself in his very soul. This was more than I could deal with. I had found nirvana and knew, if I didn’t let go soon, I never would. I didn’t want to leave him, I wanted this immense peace and joy to last forever, but there were still things that needed doing, bitch’s to fuck with and plans to put in motion.
Reluctantly, I withdrew slowly from his loving embrace, knowing this would be far from the last time we would experience this bliss. From deep in the recesses of my mind came this startling conclusion. “One day Jake, this will be permanent. One day we will be together and nothing will ever break us apart.”
Finally, I stood before him, breathless, and looked anxiously to see how the experience had affected him His eyes were closed, but I could tell from the slight sheen of perspiration on his forehead, his ragged
breathing and the massive erection tenting his trousers, that he had enjoyed it. He opened his eyes and looked directly into mine. “Thank you, Danny,” he whispered. “Thank you, mon ami .”
I grinned at him. “The first of many, my friend, the first of many.”
Reluctantly, I turned away and took my leave. The next person on my list of co-conspirators to visit was Becky.
***
I found Becky at home, in the end, sitting at the kitchen table and chatting on the phone. Damien was seated in his high chair, drinking from his special sippy-cup. I smiled at my little man and as I expected he smiled right back at me. I knew now that children always had that ability to see me. They hadn’t yet had their innocence or beliefs shaped by society’s strict rules. Damien held out his cup for me to have a sip from and I gleefully accepted his invitation. The pain of knowing I would not watch this young man grow up felt like a dumbbell was laying on top of my chest. I half choked with emotion as I turned my attention to his mother, Becky.
Becky’s conversation was animated and she was throwing her arms around as she spoke. “What do you mean he knows?” she shouted into the phone. Sitting there listening for a while, the response from the other end seemed to calm Becky down somewhat. She half-smiled and throwing her head back, laughed at something her caller had said. “Yes!” she said, “yes, Luce, we can still make that bitch pay.” She looked down at her cup of tea and I noticed, with a heavy heart, that a few tears ran down Becky’s face and into her tea. Finally, she looked back up and spoke forcefully into the phone. “Look, Luce, I don’t give a fuck what we do to Molly, you got it! I want her dead, end of story!” Becky wiped her tears away from her face with the underside of her blouse sleeve.
When she spoke, this time, her voice was softer, almost a whisper. “She stopped me, Damien, and Daniel from being a real family Lucy. Daniel was going to leave her and marry me... don’t you understand? Damien was going to have a real father.” The effort was too much for her and she put the receiver down before breaking down again in wracking sobs, her body shaking with every gasp.
My heart went out to her. Yes, it was true, I didn’t love her, but I would have married her just for the opportunity to be a part of Damien’s life. I reached out my hand and gently stroked her long hair... and she felt it. She sat bolt upright looking around anxiously to see what was happening. Unlike young Damien, who was chortling away in his chair, she clearly couldn’t see me and the fear and confusion were written all over her face. I could hear Lucy’s voice shouting down the phone receiver. “Becky... Becky... Becky... are you still there?” Finally, it seemed to get through to Becky and she slowly picked up the phone, her eyes still wide and darting in horror.
“L-Luce, s-s-something’s come up. I’ll call you back!” she managed to stutter out, and she quickly hung up the receiver, looking around the room, clearly very frightened.
I knew then what I had to do. Walking over to the bench in the kitchen, I picked up the Sharpie pen lying there and wrote a short message in indelible ink on the Formica benchtop. Checking what I’d written and satisfied with it, I looked back at Becky. Her mouth had hung open as she’d watched the magical pen fly into the air and write something on her bench. In a zombie-like state, she rose to her feet and walked the few steps to her counter top. Bending down she slowly read my missive.
As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but chuckle when I saw a slight grin begin to cross Becky’s face. She looked frantically around the kitchen, before whispering, “Daniel... Daniel... Daniel... are you here?” She took another look at the words I had written and then ran to Damien, gripping him in a tight hug as she started to laugh. “It’s going to be okay baby... Daddy’s going to sort out everything. “
***
Chapter 22 – Molly
“Fuck!” I said under my breath for the hundredth time. That email just sent on its own! I had to think quick. Recall it! Panic was setting in. Yes, just perhaps I had time… I quickly clicked on my sent items and like lightning clicked on the recall button, so the email would be deleted. I only hoped I had been fast enough to stop it hitting Simon’s attention.
My inbox filled rapidly with success notifications. Luckily most of the office were out on assignment. Then the one name in my inbox came up with “Recall Failure” that I really didn’t want to see, Simon Reynolds. Shit!
“Okay Molly, you can do this,” I told myself under my breath. Calmly I stood up from my desk and walked, with my head held high, towards Simon’s office. As I reached the door, I gave it one firm knock.
“Yes?” I could tell he was not in a good mood.
Here goes, I thought, as I entered his office and closed the door behind me. I looked at Simon seriously, as he peered up at me. His eyes widened, as he clearly hadn’t expected me to walk in, following that email.
“What the hell kind of game are you playing Molly?” He was angry, but I could tell he was also confused by the tone and manner of my email. I knew it was completely out of character for me, after all, it wasn’t meant to be sent, but I had to run with this.
“I could say the same to you,” I retorted tartly. “I spent hours on that article only for you to sideline it! I admit I was upset, perhaps I shouldn’t have sent the email, but what’s done is done. I suppose you’ll just have to fire me, for it?” I added bitingly, raising my eyebrow, daring him to say it.
“I told you why we couldn’t publish it. Jake said there were too many risks.” I didn’t miss that he had avoided my open invitation to walk me out the office. All was not lost, I thought.
“Jake is the most risk averse person in this entire company. He’s worse than your accountant!” I threw back at him. “That’s why I’m in the field, getting the real stories and he edits. If it were up to him your paper would be full of feel-good stories about the homeless and the elderly. You know that Simon…” I said, teasingly, moving around his large oak desk so I was standing right beside him. “Plus, you know he’s too close to all this… we both know he had a thing for my husband… how could he possibly be objective here?”
Simon nodded as he considered my argument. I crossed my legs seductively and watched his eyes travel up them to where my short skirt stopped, just below my panties. Simon could never resist my legs. I smirked, as I sat on the desk in front of him and let my bare legs graze against his trousers.
“Molly, not here, anyone could walk in,” he said in a hushed breath, that sounded like he was about to lose control.
“I’m just saying... are you going to let your sub-editor dictate your paper, Simon?” I asked coyly.
“We will print it, Molly, just give me a week or so to let the dust settle on your husband’s grave, yes?” Little beads of sweat were forming on his forehead as I leant in towards him, to look him straight in the eyes. But his eyes didn’t meet mine, they lowered to where my top brazenly opened exposing the lace bra that pushed my cleavage towards him.
“You know I could send it to any other paper and they would print it immediately…” I was being defiant.
“A week Molly,” he bargained. “But, for now, we need to address this email,” he said seriously. “For any employee, that would have to be considered as gross misconduct,” he lectured me.
“Easy, just say I was hacked?” I shrugged nonchalantly. “I have enough enemies out there, so we can swing it. Just get your technology guys to send an email out from one or two other accounts, if it makes you feel better.” I eyed him up and down and watched him consider my idea.
“Okay, leave it with me. In the meantime, just keep your bloody head down will you?” he warned cheekily. When I grinned wickedly, he laughed out loud. “Not like that, although, if you’re free after work?” he added hopefully.
“My article published first,” I bargained, knowing he’d want more than a head job for that, but I was willing to oblige if it meant keeping my job and having Simon Reynolds over-rule Jake’s petty arguments about the article going live. “Oh... and one more thing…
” I knew I was really pushing my luck now.“From now on, I send all my articles to you directly. You know I like and respect Jake, but I feel he is stifling my work.”
“Yes, you’re probably right Molly,” he agreed cautiously, “and he is too close to you to be objective. As it stands I had already made the decision to change you two around, so it may as well be me,” he grinned. I smiled, as I hopped off his desk and leant over him to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just long enough to give him a taste for more.
“Thanks, Simon, I’ll head home for the day if that’s ok?” I heard him pick up the phone to the technology department as I left his office. I could always play Simon like a violin and regardless of how that email was sent, I was now in the clear!
Tortured Minds Page 14
