by Mike Faricy
He learned her name was Nikki Devereaux. Nikki Devereaux, it figured, a woman looking like that had to have a name that matched. Even the act of pronouncing her name had a sexual connotation, repeating it slowly, his bottom lip brushing against his upper teeth, almost a sexual suggestion ending in a kiss. Nikki Devereaux. He was smitten.
He had caught a glimpse of her on four separate occasions, but nothing that might suggest a pattern or a work schedule. Just her casual coming and going, and never with that wrinkled old prune, Torsten. His dislike for Torsten increased exponentially, once he had discovered Nikki’s name.
Meanwhile, he had formulated the beginnings of a plan. Dressed in painter’s whites, he had followed cars into the underground ramp, getting the lay of things in the exclusive building. He’d found an unlocked utility closet in the far corner of the parking area and began to fine tune his plan, much of which was based on dumb luck. And that was just what arrived at his doorstep late one afternoon, absolute dumb luck, dressed in a small cream-colored top, wide gold belt, extremely short cream colored skirt, patterned hosiery and stiletto heels.
The sexy clicking of spiked heels were what first attracted Mickey. He heard them long before he actually saw them. Heard her walking through the parking ramp, shopping bags in tow, clicking those heels in sexy little steps across the floor, the sound echoing off the white concrete walls.
He was in the process of storing a red, collapsible, two wheeled dolly, a large empty appliance box, a roll of duct tape and surgical gloves in the utility closet. Nikki Devereaux was walking toward the elevator, shopping bags in both hands. He glanced up at the sound of her walking and there she was.
He rolled the dolly and box in her direction, calling to her to please hold the elevator door for him, a wheel on the dolly squeaked as he approached. A moment later they were in the elevator together. She had pushed twenty-six, his new lucky number, pushed the number with perfectly manicured Ferrari red nails.
“Floor?” she said.
He pulled a piece of paper from a pocket and pretended to read it. “Twenty-six, please.”
“What’s that?” she said and nodded in the direction of the large box.
“Stove,” he replied, half surprised at the question since there were pictures of a stove on all four sides of the box beneath the word STOVE. “And it’s taken a lot longer to install than we expected. It happens, you know, what can you do? We’re just about finished, just want to make sure everything is working right before we leave.”
“I’m sure they would appreciate that,” she said, watching the floor numbers light up over the door, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen . . .
Chapter 45
They arrived on the twenty-sixth floor with Mickey enveloped in a heavenly cloud of sexy Nikki Devereaux perfume. Once the door opened she said, “You go ahead, darling, let me hold the door for you.”
He rolled the dolly into the hall and turned left, slowly squeaking down the longer length of the hall, thinking there was an unspoken magic between the two of them. She didn’t bother to give him a second look, but stepped out of the elevator and headed in the opposite direction.
He turned around and followed her, closing the gap with what was going to have to pass as clever conversation. “Gee, I don’t know what it is about this side of the building, but I always go the wrong way.”
She didn’t seem to rush, but he sensed a barely perceptible increase in her pace. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do next, but knew that whatever it was he would need his roll of tape. He stood in front of the door next to hers and smiled. He thought maybe he could just dash in before she closed the door, grab her in the privacy of her own unit. Her abduction would become a private little affair, just between the two of them, something they would share laughingly in calmer, quieter times, over a glass of her favorite wine.
She bobbled and dropped her keys, looked up at him at just that moment and he knew she knew. He saw the change, an animal look in those beautiful brown eyes. She was suddenly fumbling a little too much with her keys, concentrating first on him, then the keys, and that’s when she dropped them. He moved toward her, quickly.
He was just reaching, ready to grab sweet, sexy Nikki, spin her around, gently tape those luscious lips so they wouldn’t cry out and ruin the moment. He was close enough to smell her perfume again. She would realize there was absolutely no point in fighting her own urges, coyly surrendering to this muscular hero who was . . . Wham!
With the explosion Mickey saw stars. Literally. Bright light, jagged, white stars. The left side of his head exploded, leaving him just barely conscious enough to discern her sharp elbow drilling directly into his solar plexus. Bull’s Eye. He felt the wind hammered out of his chest cavity in one massive, sledge hammer blow. He was only vaguely aware of the new pain when she grabbed him forcefully by the ears, scraping and digging her manicured Ferrari red nails in deep, digging them into the sides of his neck then yanking his head down in the direction of her midsection.
His first thought, which turned out to be way off base, was what a strange way to initiate coitus, only to see her delicious, fantastically firm Nikki thigh bring her cute dimpled little Nikki knee smashing up directly into his nose.
His head bounced up on impact. His scraped and shredded ears were torn from her grip by the sheer force of the blow, and rocketed his head backward. He gasped for air as he staggered back against the wall. His hands reflexively grasped his splattered, bleeding nose. He gasped, staggered a step or two, defenseless, beaten, and coughing blood down his chest.
She suddenly dropped her fist from its cocked position, set to deliver the final blow. Only now did she recognize him standing in front of her holding what remained of his nose with both hands. “I know you, you’re that moron who rear ended us. The guy with that dreadful shirt.”
It was all the chance he needed, the only chance he had left, and he took it, cold cocking her with a right hook. He hit her as hard as he could in a final desperate attempt to save his own worthless self. She collapsed on the floor down and out, cold.
“Huh, glass jaw, I knew it” he said, only it came out “Glasth jaw, I knew ith.” He quickly grabbed her keys, opened the door and dragged her inside, where he collapsed in a heap on the floor just as the door closed behind him. He drifted in and out of consciousness, for how long he never knew, coming to only moments before Nikki began stirring. Fear of another beating at her hands propelled him into action. He moved as quickly as the intense pain would allow. Gasping through his mouth, since his splattered nose had been reduced to a mere cosmetic appendage.
He had a throbbing knot on the left side of his head where the eyebrow used to end. His ears felt like they had been twirled in a blender and his nose, well his nose was non-functioning and smashed out in the general direction of both cheekbones. He managed to tape her wrists behind her back, and tape her ankles together. Then, just to be on the safe side, he wound the tape round and round her, like a mummy.
Finally satisfied she couldn’t get to him, he got a towel, made an ice pack and pressed it against his throbbing head.
He sat there in the dark, on the floor, with his back against the wall. He got up three or four times for more ice in an unsuccessful attempt to keep the pain and swelling down. Each time he rose to retrieve more ice, he groaned, using the wall to help him stagger to his feet.
He eventually regained enough strength to go out into the hallway and retrieve the appliance box and dolly.
“Okay,” he said, talking with an ice filled, blood-soaked towel held over his nose, coughing up a little blood as he worked to get the words out. “Please, believe me. I won’t hurt you. But you’re going in this box. Now you can do it carefully, or I can hit you over the head and dump you in there. I don’t particularly care right now, it’s your choice. I’m going to try and move you. Carefully. I get the idea you’re fighting me, I’ll drop you.”
He set the bloodied ice pack on her off white carpet, lowered the box on
its side then cautiously wiggled her inside the box. His head throbbed and pounded with every heartbeat as he gasped and grunted. Somehow, he got her into the box, set the box upright, and taped the top closed. Then, he collapsed on the floor again.
He was out for a bit longer than twenty or thirty minutes, and it was well after midnight when he eventually regained enough strength to attempt to wheel Nikki into the elevator, down to the parking level and the safety of his car.
Miraculously, he somehow made it to his car undetected. He popped the lid of the cavernous trunk, grabbed either side of the box, and wrenched it up. The box easily rose until he realized he had never secured the bottom and he watched as a wrapped and taped Nikki bounced and half-rolled across the floor.
He stood over her debating for a half moment, wondering if it was even worth it, before picking her up and half rolling, half dumping her into the trunk. He slammed the trunk closed and quickly drove out of the ramp leaving the box and dolly behind.
Chapter 46
During the transportation phase of earlier projects, Mickey had always driven a roundabout route to Dell’s. Tonight, he took the most direct route he knew, praying he would remain lucid enough to complete the twenty-five-minute drive without ending up in the ditch.
He eventually made it to Dell’s, although there had been two or three times he felt himself losing it and had to press a finger firmly against the knot on the side of his head. The searing pain had refocused his attention and now he was finally skidding into Dell’s driveway, narrowly missing the mail box, tossing gravel against the wheel wells, anxiously pressing the automatic garage door opener.
He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to do it, but they had finally arrived, and he unceremoniously dumped his former heart throb, Nikki Devereaux, onto the bed. He cautiously removed the tape undoing her hands and wrists just before running out of the room and making doubly sure the door was locked behind him.
“Mick, Mickey, hey you okay? Mickey?” It was an intrusion, a soft familiar voice. “Mick, hey buddy, what the hell happened to you?”
He found himself starring into Dell’s bleary eyes and unshaved face and he was suddenly aware he had trouble breathing.
“Ahh, man,” he groaned.
“Take it easy, pal. Man, what happened? Who did this to you? I think you might need a doctor.”
“She’s downstairs,” Mickey whispered, and limply pointed in the general direction of the staircase before dropping his head back on the couch and closing his eyes.
Dell turned to the stairs, looked back at Mickey for a nano-second before dashing down the steps. “Are you crazy?” he screamed, charging back up the stairs a moment later.
Mickey lay on the couch feeling more dead than alive, thinking he just might know the answer to that question.
Chapter 47
Torsten Theisen was in the mood to celebrate. Everyone had caved in. He sat in his office, rubbing his hands with pure anticipation, but not for the legislative package he’d just rammed through. Good lord, jobs for two nitwit nephews and the extension of state park land abutting his lake property all wedged between the lines of an education bill, big deal. Those things were all well and good, but nothing when compared to the personal attention he knew was about to be heaped upon him this very evening by one voter in particular, Nikki Devereaux.
The best little bit of legislation he had ever engineered had been a year ago getting that little lady a cushy state job updating the Parks Resources Board to the tune of six figures per year. The board had ceased to exist a full year before he created the position so there really was nothing to update. She didn’t even have to go to the office, what with the beauty of direct deposit and lap-tops nowadays. It was all too easy, and Nikki had shown herself to be a very appreciative member of the voting public. Nikki Devereaux a park resource.
He rubbed his hands gleefully, listening on speaker phone as her phone rang. He stopped when her message kicked in. “Hey, this is Nikki . . .”
It was unadvisable to leave a message, he’d have to call her later, he thought looking at his desk clock. Right now, he had a press conference to attend.
* * *
What a bunch of idiot’s Torsten thought to himself, still in a major huff after finding out the press conference would be carried live. He was standing next to the governor, the two of them behind a wood grained Formica podium sporting a cardboard state seal, looking out at the assembled press corps. He thought he should be telling Nikki what little get-up he wanted her to wear while she was cooking dinner and instead he was wasting his time with this collection of buffoons.
“Representative Theisen? The ramifications, sir, of this special session and the package you were able to pass?”
“I heard you,” Torsten snapped, removing his hands from the pockets of his brown polyester suit coat, not at all happy about being pulled away from time with Nikki.
“It’s a complex issue. But, guided by parents and the dedicated teachers, we’ll lay the foundation of what happens in this state long after I’m gone.”
“Are you planning to go anywhere Representative Theisen?” someone shouted from the back row.
“I’m planning to get some much deserved relaxation.” He attempted a smile that he didn’t quite accomplish. “After which, I plan to return to my home in Glacial Springs.”
“Does that mean you don’t relax at home?”
He shot a steely glance in the general direction, but couldn’t ascertain who had made the comment.
“No, it means that at home we do god’s work, idle hands being the devil’s workshop. Something we should all keep in mind, before wasting anyone’s time.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you. I’ll be happy to entertain any specific questions you may have for as long as it takes,” the press secretary interjected.
“Torsten, take it easy out there, partner,” the governor said. They were walking in the direction of the office wing, just a few paces ahead of the Governor’s aides. “You would think you had a hot date lined up for tonight.”
“I’m not inclined to waste a lot of time on press conference foolishness.”
“Live press conferences, Torsten, are never foolish, dangerous maybe, but never foolish. You can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”
* * *
“So, unable to relax at home, are we!” said Arliss, Mrs. Torsten Theisen. She slammed the oven door as she listened to the kitchen television. “We’ll just see about that.”
Chapter 48
Nikki’s knee and elbow hurt, her jaw was awfully sore, but didn’t appear to be broken. She could move it, although it felt like the whole left side of her molars, top and bottom didn’t quite line up properly. She had gingerly pulled the sticky grey tape off, fortunately she had worn stockings, so the tape hadn’t peeled her skin. That’s all she’d need, work on a tan just to have some sex fiend ruin it in one night. The dreadful tape had completely destroyed her outfit, peeled most of the sequins off her belt and ruined the creamy colored snakeskin on her heels. She examined her hands and counted three broken nails. This was shaping up to be the most dreadful day ever.
He had followed her down the hall, tried to grab her, which was when she recognized him. She hadn’t been sure of it until she saw him grabbing his nose in the hallway, it was the way he held it, hands over his face, head tilted back slightly, and bleeding, that it all came back to her.
Chapter 49
Mickey was feeling a little bit better after napping past noon, followed by a three hour visit to urgent care where they cleaned and bandaged his nose. More importantly, he got a prescription for some very strong pain killers.
“The bottom line is we have to go through with it,” he said.
“Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn,” Dell whined, pacing back and forth.
“I heard you the first time,” Mickey groaned from the couch. He pressed what remained of his ice pack against the knot on the side of his head.
“No, don’t,
just don’t say another thing, Mick. Does the term ‘press our luck’ have any connotations? Here’s the good news. If the cops come and arrest us, we’re saved from the animals who attacked you. How do you get me into these things? I hate violence. I don’t want to wind up looking like you. I mean look what they did to you, although, I gotta say, it serves you right.”
“No guys did this. That woman downstairs did it all.”
“What?”
Mickey squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed, willed himself not to wretch as he half-propped himself up with his elbow. “She did this to me.”
“That little girl down there did that to you?”
Mickey signaled Dell the okay sign.
“Oh, that’s great. Absolutely beautiful. I oughta give that little thing a medal. Well, you know what? You deserve every bit of it. I’m glad she did it, Mick. Maybe this time you’ll learn your lesson. I’m here to tell you, I’m not going to get involved in this one, don’t count on me for anything.”
By evening his voice was beginning to improve, not as much of a monotone. The blood collecting in the back of his throat, although not completely stopped, had minimized considerably and the soup he was cautiously spooning into his mouth was helping to revive him.
“Well, I guess you’re right, Mick. I’m just sort of screwed on the deal, aren’t I? Just by having her here and feeding the poor little thing I’ve become guilty, again, of aiding and abetting you in another idiotic plot.”
Mickey blew on his soup spoon.
“I don’t know, you tell me, Genius, now what do we do?”
