by Aven Jayce
“At least he doesn’t whip us with a garden hose, like Roxanne.”
“What about your dad?” Jack interrupts.
“He left a long time ago.”
“Did your mom have a boyfriend?”
“Why are you asking about her?”
“I’m gathering info about the killer, not her. People who escape crimes like murder are sacred to me. It’s why I think the two of you have potential... which leads me to the reason I let you stay.” He snaps open a crisp white napkin and tucks it under his collar as he eats. “I like you guys. You remind me of my aunt and uncle. They’re a couple of asshats.”
It’s obvious by Quinn’s tapping fork that he’s irritated again. “You don’t give a shit about anything or anyone, do you?”
“Asshats.” Jack smirks, swinging his knife at us. “Take it as a compliment. I happen to like a good asshat in my life. My dad’s one, too, so don’t be so sensitive about one fucking word.” He continues waving the knife the same way he handles his gun. “Come on now, eat some food while we discuss your future.”
I cut a piece of pancake, my taste buds exploding when it touches my tongue. A real meal—actual food in my stomach, I’ve needed this for days.
“This is business...” His chin lifts in my direction. “To answer your question from earlier, my dad fronted me the money to start Afterglow.” He raises his hands, looking back at the retreat. “Hotels and porn are in my blood, so I decided to mix the two and tweak the combo into an even better business than what my family had done before.”
“Sorry? Did you say hotels and porn?” I laugh, regretting my reaction when his mouth twists.
“Why is that funny?”
“I guess I didn’t expect to hear you say it. Porn is in your blood? What? Like you enjoy watching it?”
“Don’t joke, my family’s past isn’t amusing. My granddad was a Vegas porn king and my dad owns a luxury hotel in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Jamesons are businessmen and we’re fucking stellar at what we do. Just look at this place. The other two I own are the same. A big success.”
“Phweet,” Trent whistles, motioning for Quinn to come over.
Jack glances over his shoulder as he continues talking. “I chose the perfect location for each one. The mountains give protection. The higher up and the more secluded, the better. It’s like surrounding yourself with a moat, and for a company like Afterglow... well, enough said.”
“Phweeeeet!”
“Hey, loser, just walk your lazy ass over here,” Jack shouts, his clenched knuckles turning white. “Anyway,” he looks back at us, “it took a while to convince my dad, but once I explained... goddammit!” He grabs his ringing cell and gripes at the caller, another interruption. “What? I’m in a meeting.”
Quinn looks at our wrinkled tees and shorts, saying jokingly, “I’m not dressed for a meeting.”
“... No, I didn’t fire her... yeah, I’ll tell you... hell, I can do this... back off!” He hangs up and takes a huge, syrupy bite of pancake. “Speak of the devil.” He chews. “My dad’s a nosy bastard. If he could plant a tracking device on me, he would.”
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Twenty-two.”
“Jesus.” Quinn chokes on his coffee. “That’s only a year older than me. Your dad must be cool to start this up for you.”
“It took convincing.”
“Phweeet!”
“What the fuck do you want?” He grips his gun and points it back at Trent. “Either shut the fuck up, or get over here.”
“Roxanne wants us to get to work!”
“Well go!”
“All of us!”
“Tell the bitch to talk to me if she’s got a problem with them sitting here!” He gestures for Trent to leave before getting back to us. “So... my dad. He agreed to front me the money after I told him I’d be helping the homeless—getting them off the streets and into warm beds. That type of shit is what’s closest to his heart... his wife was homeless when they first met, he did the same for her.” He spins the gun on his finger, acting like a ‘50s Hollywood gunslinger. “I’m quick like that. Once I figure out an event that changed a person’s life, I can use it to get my way... so why don’t you tell me why you killed your mom?”
“You fucker.” My lip twitches in anger. “I’ll throw this plate at your head if you don’t back off.” I straighten my arm across Quinn’s chest, stopping him from another attack.
“Hey, I’m just kidding. I get it, you didn’t mean to kill her.”
“I didn’t!”
“You know, everything comes full circle... you could be next.”
“Next for what? Full circle for what? Is that a threat?” I pick up my syrupy knife, making him laugh. “You don’t know me. Stop trying to mess with my head.”
“Does anyone know you? Does Quinn know you? Your family? Who knows you? Maybe I know you better than you know yourself.”
“You’re a dick!”
“That’s right, keep going. I want to see RAGE build inside of you. How mad can you get? Angry enough to kill?” He nods at the knife. “Was it self-defense at the river? Is that true?”
“Yes.” I put the knife down. “I’m not falling for this. You’re trying to make me come apart.”
“I don’t think I have to try.”
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Quinn asks. “Stop being a dick or my knife’s gonna end up in your eye.”
Jack’s totally stoned and amused Quinn’s defending me. “Right on, that’ll be an awesome kill. Make sure you go deep enough. Make it quick.”
“We’re leaving.” Quinn stands, helping me out of my chair.
“Where to?” he asks, positioning his feet back on the table and sliding the gun across to us.
Quinn stares at the weapon, his fingers itching to pick it up.
“Go ‘head. Take it. Use it if you want.”
I glare at Jack, an easy target with his hands behind his back and his chest fully exposed. He’s arrogant, egotistical, and a pig-headed brat.
“You two are good fun. Like I said, you remind me of my aunt and uncle. They’re just as easy to taunt. I love ‘em though. So listen, I’m gonna keep you two safe, and you’re gonna do shit for me, and the three of us are gonna drink, and fuck, and have a great time together.”
“What do you want?” Quinn asks with a guarded demeanor, his voice steady and slow. “Besides sex.”
“There isn’t much else. That fuck I heard coming through the wall of the suite last night was better than the animal grunts leaving Roxanne’s room. My cock was throbbing thinking about you two.”
“You heard us?” I scrunch my nose. “You listened?”
“I heard... and I listened. Damn impressive, considering how worn out you two looked when you got here. I wanna know what you’re like after a full day’s rest.”
“That’s private,” Quinn says.
“This is a fantasy retreat. People come here to fuck. It’s not private.”
“It is with us.”
“No,” he sighs, “it really isn’t.” He jerks his feet, attempting to get our attention as we stare at the gun.
I doubt grabbing it would do any good, it’s not like we’re gonna shoot him, and I can tell Quinn’s thinking the same. It’s exactly why Jack left it there. It’s proof he’s in control. We’re weak. We’re his servants. And he’s the king.
“I’m adding you to my menu for anyone interested in a ménage à trois. You guys are the perfect pair for both the male and female guests.”
“I won’t,” I state.
“Well... I’d never force a woman to fuck. I’m not a rapist. But I’m also not worried. I’m sure you’ll give in on your own. Now, sit down so we can finish our friendly discussion.”
I hear the door to the retreat swing open, seeing Trent stomping toward us in full fight mode, his hair moussed into short spikes, no shirt, muscles flexed, and his jaw tight.
“Hold up.” Jack raises his hand. “Who the hell do you think you are, interrupting my meeting? Go bitch at somebody else.” He leans forward and puts the gun back in his holster, giving us a wink. “This must be Trent. By his busted face, I’d say he lost the fight down by the river.”
“Why do you give a fuck who I am?”
Jack rises, slowly placing his hands in his front pockets, keeping a steady gaze on us as he rocks on his heels, listening to Trent rant.
“Roxanne told me about you... said your dad babies you. Gives you money. Buys you cars. What a fucking douche. Does daddy still wipe the snot from your nose and clean the shit off your ass? What about jerking you off? Bet he beats your meat for ya, too. Right, cocksucker?” Trent lets out a loud cackle that echoes throughout the property, bouncing off the walls of the retreat and ringing in our ears.
Typical Trent.
Jack nods, his eyes closing. He’s composed and starting to hum... it’s that same song from last night.
“That’s what I thought. You’re nothing but a pussy. A real man would’ve swung by now,” Trent says. “Yo, what are you doing? Humming? What is that, like a way to ignore me or something?”
“I wouldn’t mess with him,” Quinn warns.
“Fuck you. I told you not to come here. You’re gonna ruin it for Dylan and me. Roxanne’s already in a bitchy mood.”
“You don’t have to feel threatened by every man in the room.”
“He’s not a man.” Trent laughs. “He looks like that ‘80s cartoon character, Richie Rich.” He flicks the back of Jack’s mutilated ear, triggering a rapid slash to his throat.
“Shit!” I shriek. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Quinn jumps in front of me so I’m protected from the blade. I didn’t even see it come out. And the blood! So much blood!
“Oh my God!” I scream.
Trent clutches his neck, wide-eyed with labored breaths, while an enormous smile grows on Jack’s face. With his hand on Trent’s chest, he shoves him along the stone path, toward the side of the retreat, through the garden, and over to the parking lot. He sings the entire time, thrusting him backward with the knife against his neck.
There iiiiis a maaaaaaan
In the coooold dark night
They call hiiiim the Riiiiiising Son
His low voice draws out the words, steady and powerful under the shade of the towering pines. A car beeps and a trunk opens, seconds later Trent’s punched in the face and forced into the back, his feet kicking and arms swinging as Jack stabs him multiple times.
“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t speak, don’t do anything.” Quinn frantically guards me. “Hold still. Let him know he can trust us. Don’t give him any reason to come after us. Just stay still.”
I set my head on his back, embracing him as I listen to Trent’s groans and feet hitting the trunk of the car. The sounds wane and eventually stop... dead... just like that, a man was killed in front of me in less than three minutes.
My breakfast climbs out of my stomach, reaching the top of my throat before I swallow it back down. The trunk slams shut and the singing ends.
Jack’s feet drag through the stone path, moving closer, becoming louder, stopping when he reaches us. I peek around Quinn, sighting an expression of nirvana and complete satisfaction.
“So tell me, Quinn... what are your dreams?” Jack asks.
“M-my dreams? What? Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah, you know. What do you want out of life?” He closes the knife and hits his car lock, making the classic, tricked out Ford Mustang beep and the taillights flash. “Addie’s easy to read. She lost her mom, a person who kept her on track, now she’s looking for a replacement. She thought her aunt might be the answer, but that didn’t work out. Her dreams are all about security and stability, shelter and protection. That’s what’s missing from her life. And it’s only getting worse for her... except you, you never had that stuff to begin with, you’re harder to pinpoint. What are your desires? What are your dreams?”
“I can’t believe you killed him,” he says. “Not only killed, but tortured. You’ve had the gun in our faces all morning. Why not just shoot him?”
“Shoot him? It’s too loud this early in the morning and he wasn’t worth a bullet. And why do you care?” Jack snorts. “Because he was a good guy? Because the two of you were best buds? That dick? Because he had so much to offer this world? Because no way in hell would he beat or try to fuck your woman if he had the chance? I know the type. That motherfucker had no value, a completely worthless piece of shit. And he had the audacity to touch my ear. I don’t think so. Fuck him. Now answer me. I want to know your dreams. What are they?”
He swallows hard, hesitant, but answers... “To survive.”
“No, not good enough. Everyone wants to survive. That’s basic. What else?” He puts his foot on the chair and rests his elbow on his knee, lurching forward as he speaks. “I can tell you’ve been on the streets for a while. Must’ve come from an abusive family, an alcoholic mom and dad, poor... a product of a wretched environment... so what do you want? Nice clothes? A car? What about my Mustang with a dead asshole in the trunk?” He laughs. “No, seriously... that’s boring to a guy like you.” He cocks his head and scans my body, appearing pleased that he may have an answer. “A sweet woman wearing expensive silk panties? A tight, wet pussy you can sink your cock into? A big house and a giant bed to fuck in?”
“A studio apartment is plenty. I’m not greedy,” he answers. “And if my girl can’t afford panties, that’s fine too. No car. I’ve got two legs. I don’t need much... those are my dreams.”
“Love’s the answer?” He walks around Quinn, standing a foot away from me. There’s blood on his shirt, arms, and hands, even a spot on his cheek. “Your boyfriend’s a momma’s boy. He’s searching for her replacement. The two of you are so much alike.”
I’m horrified when two fingers slide down the middle of my face and come to rest over my lips. I can feel a trail of warm blood on my forehead, can smell it on the tip of nose, and can taste it on my lips. I’ve been marked. Painted like a soldier with Trent’s blood as an initiation into Jack’s army.
He lifts my chin, knowing we’re too spooked to move.
“A tragic event can haunt a person forever. It’s like terminal cancer eating away at your body until you’re nothing but a mere skeleton of your former self,” he says in a measured and sinister tone. “People don’t realize when they’re responsible for a tragedy, that some day their life will end the same way...” He looks back at his car and down at me.
“Everything comes full circle, Addie. Remember that. Prepare for it. It’s coming.”
Chapter Fourteen
TACTICAL RETREAT
“ADDIE, WAIT!”
I storm out of the suite with my duffle bag over my shoulder, hurrying down the hall to the front lobby.
Quinn’s heavy footfalls follow close behind, his desperate pleas for me to stay are making this so much harder.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I just can’t do this.”
“Where the hell are you going? Wait... wait!” He grabs my shoulder and spins me around.
“Look, I spent a full day washing the windows of the retreat, side-by-side with a guy my age who smelled like smoked ham and couldn’t hold a conversation. It—”
“We won’t always be together while we’re here. Especially when we’ve got work to do. I just couldn’t do anything about it.”
“No, let me finish. That wasn’t the problem. The problem is I spent hours in silence and it gave me way too much time to think. All I did was second-guess being at Afterglow. And staring at the trunk of Jack’s Mustang made me rethink being here even more. The terror in
Trent’s eyes is ingrained in my head. The shock on his face when he was cut and the way his jaw dropped as he felt the slice in his neck... then his legs kicking the car to get away... Jack made it loud and clear—don’t fuck with him. No thank you. I’ll take my chances back in Albany.”
“Fuck that.”
“Oh, and Roxanne. What’s with her? I only had five minutes alone with you today to try to discuss how I was feeling before she threatened us to get back to work with that stupid hose in her hand.”
“We belong to her when we’re here. I told you that.”
“Well, she’s furious I got to stay, and as usual, she’s taking her frustrations out on you. You heard her. She sat by the pool while we worked, complaining non-stop about you ‘boning’ me in her retreat. I’m glad you ignored the bitch, but I could tell she was making you restless. Me too.”
I continue down the corridor, being pursued and having my shirt tugged along the way.
“And the last hour was the worst. I started sweating and was queasy from anxiety, wondering if anything was gonna work out. I get it. I get that I’m no longer floating. I’m not floating, Quinn!” I scream and toss my arms in the air like I’ve lost my shit. “For the past year I’ve been able to glide. I haven’t been swimming or climbing out of the water, just drifting along... now there’s a weight tied around my ankle. Sooner or later I’m gonna end up like the woman in the Hudson. Go ahead, everyone in this world, drag me further into an endless hole in the darkness of the water!” I say to the ceiling. “I’m defeated. Absolutely one hundred percent defeated.”
I rush into the two-story lobby, eyeing the open front door. It should be a sign of freedom, but today it only leads to an uncertain end—a gateway to self-doubt and love lost. What are my choices? I can hide in a room in the middle of nowhere with a guy like Jack Jameson within striking distance. Beg Brian and Nadine to offer protection and lie for me. Or say fuck everything and go to the cops. These aren’t choices. There’s more out there for me. But right now, what I know for sure is I can’t be here after what I saw. I just can’t.
