That Old Devil Sin

by W E DeVore

  He turned and stepped forward to hand her the glass.

  “I don’t know. It’s just, you know, you sleep with him on and off for what, like a year? Then out of the blue, he shows up and is right there, supposedly to help you out, right when Pete gets in trouble. And gets you a gig at a party where Pete’s girl ends up dead? That doesn’t seem a little too…convenient?” Niko spoke like he knew he was walking on very thin ice. “Maybe Pete wasn’t the only guy she was seeing.”

  Q stood up and straightened her robe. “You think Ben had something to do with this?!”

  Niko put his hands out defensively. “I’m not saying that, Q. It’s just…I’ve seen Ben with Urian, a few times, and recently, like two Saturdays before Lundi gras recently. Nightclubs are a great place to sell drugs and Ben seems to be doing pretty well for himself. Girl, he handed everyone on his staff a grand on Lundi gras.”

  “Those were their bonuses. He’s generous. Fuck, Niko, not everybody is a selfish asshole, like you.”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger, Nikki Heat, I’m just telling you what I saw. You wanted to play detective…”

  “Look, Niko, Ben said Urian was hanging out at the Cove looking for Pete. And Ben does well because he’s good at his job. The Cove is always packed, you know that.”

  “I’m just…” Niko hesitated. “What if it wasn’t the Senator in that room with that girl? He had lots of time and you know how he is around women…you wouldn’t be the first to fall for the wrong man.”

  Q felt icy rage creep up her spine. “Niko, I think you should go.”

  He set his drink down on the counter and walked to the door. He paused and said, “Men don’t change that fast, Q. If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

  Niko left before she could fire back anything nasty or clever to say in response. She angrily chained the door and went to the nightstand. She picked up her phone and started to call Ben, then put the phone back down. Biting her lower lip, she began a staring contest with her phone before finally blinking and picking it up.

  “Fuck it,” she said out loud and quickly dialed his number before she changed her mind.

  “Hold on, darlin’, let me get to my office,” Ben shouted over the ambient sonic chaos of the Cove. Q waited for a minute until the background noise dropped by more than half. “It’s crazy over here tonight. Man, I miss you. You ok, Clementine?”

  Q sat down on the bed and felt tears forming in her eyes. “No…yeah. I’m fine. I just needed to hear your voice for a minute.”

  He sounded concerned. “What’s going on, Q?”

  “Nothing. I’m just being stupid. Go back to work.” She quickly wiped away the moisture on her cheeks and took a big breath. “I’m fine.”

  “Why don’t you get in a cab and come down here? I probably won’t get out of here until three, but you can crash in the studio while I close up, if you get tired.”

  She picked up Pete’s keys from where she had left them on the nightstand and fiddled with them. She looked at the Dollhouse keychain for a minute, before finally saying, “Maybe I’ll come by later. I’m going to the Dollhouse. Someone has to know how Ronnie got on that guest list.”

  “Q, it’s well after midnight. You don’t need to be on the wrong end of Bourbon by yourself this late on a Friday night. Save the Jessica Fletcher routine until tomorrow and see if Tom or Charlie will go with you.” Ben paused. “Please, darlin’. Just call a cab and come here or stay put and I’ll come to you in a couple hours.”

  Ben was right. It was too late and she'd had too much vodka to be out on her own on strip club row.

  “Ok, you win. Let me get cleaned up. I’ll be there soon,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. She faltered before saying, “Ben, I love you.”

  “Say that again.” Ben’s smile came over the cellular waves, surrounding her in warmth. She found herself suddenly grinning like an idiot.

  “You heard me. Now get back to work. We can’t both be unemployed.”

  She hung up and called a cab, racing around her apartment to get dressed. The cab honked downstairs and she grabbed both her and Pete’s keys before heading out. She stopped to pick up her timeline and left it on the floor.

  Put a pin in it, Nancy Drew.

  As she ran down the stairs, she realized she was humming ‘Pusherman’ and smiled. Niko was right. Ben was dealing something out of his club and she needed a fix.

  ~~~

  The Cove was crowded with cheerful people that made Q vaguely uncomfortable. Threading her way through the swarm of dancers, she spotted Ben turning down the hallway by the stage. She moved quickly to follow him, trying to get his attention. He briefly looked over his shoulder as he guided a blonde woman through the storage room door, his hand on the back of her red vinyl skirt. Bitter fury pooled in Q’s stomach and she pushed her way into the room. It was dark; she blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the sudden lack of light. A cord slipped around her neck and tightened.

  Ben’s gravelly voice whispered in her ear, “You’re my girl now.”

  She struggled against the cord as he dragged her out of the storage room to the back door. Q tried to scream but no sound came out of her mouth. He dragged her through the parking lot and into the back seat of an SUV in the dark back corner.

  No, no. no, not again. Please, no.

  Q’s hands were now pinned above her head and she struggled to get them free. The cord around her neck tightened. Ben’s weight on top of her made it impossible for her to move. His breath was hot in her ear. He smelled like bourbon and too many cigarettes. She turned her face away, still trying to scream, and still not making a sound. Her stomach lurched and she looked at Ben, the angel on his torso rose up and laughed manically. Q’s eyes widened as she tried to squirm backwards, the cord tightened around her neck.

  “I know you like it rough, darlin’. Don’t fight it.”

  She opened her mouth to scream, willing the sound into creation until a loud cry forced its way passed her reluctant vocal cords. “NO!!!!!!!!!!”

  Q was sitting up in bed. Ben was facing her, his hands on her face. He was saying something she couldn’t understand over the roaring in her ears.

  “I…can’t… breathe.” Q panted, gulping for air.

  Ben shook her shoulders unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Q, breathe, darlin’. Breathe. It’s ok.”

  She took a ragged breath and let it out. She felt like retching. Violently pushing his arms off of her, she slid to the back corner of the bed.

  “Don’t touch me!” she screamed and held up her hands, still gasping for air. “It was you. I saw you. It was you!”

  “Darlin’, you had a nightmare. It was just a dream.”

  Ben jumped out of bed and opened the blinds along the wall at the foot of the bed to let in the morning light. Q looked around at the sunny studio apartment. Her head was throbbing and the sheets around her were sticky with sweat. He went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and brought it back to her. She gratefully accepted it and took a long drink. Ben pulled up a chair next to the bed. He sat down looking concerned.

  “I was pinned down, there was something around my neck. It was you. You were attacking me. It was just like before,” she said, staring straight through him.

  “It was just a nightmare, darlin’. That man that hurt you is lying dead in his grave and has been for ten years,” Ben said calmly.

  She shook her head. “No. I haven’t had that dream for years. Why now? Why you? I saw you with Ronnie; you were taking her into the storage room at the Cove, I followed you. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Ben leaned forward and thought very carefully before speaking. “Clementine, you saw me with Ronnie when?”

  “Just now, before you dragged me out of the Cove, I…” Q’s voice trailed off as the vision faded and her mind started to clear.

  “Clementine, I need you to listen to me,” Ben’s voice was firm. “You had a nightmare. A bad one. But it’s not real. You did
n’t see me with anyone. I didn’t attack you. I didn’t hurt Pete’s girl. You know that.”

  She knew he was right, but there was too much adrenalin flooding her body to think logically. She shook her head. “It was so real.”

  He sat silently for several long minutes before finally speaking. “Q, baby, you found a murdered woman. Strangled with a cord around her neck less than two weeks ago. You told me about your attack less than two weeks ago. When was the last time you talked about it? To anyone? It was bound to back up on you.”

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Ben?” Her voice came out vulnerable and frightened. “I don’t know what I’d do if…”

  Ben was kneeling on the bed in front of her before she could finish the sentence. “I love you, Clementine. You don’t have to be scared. I got you. You hear me?”

  She nodded, shaking. He took the forgotten water glass from her hands and brought her to him. She relaxed into his chest and felt the sob building from the pit of her stomach before it finally burst out of her mouth. She sagged into him, grief wails pouring from her throat. He held her silently. She couldn’t stop crying, sobs coming closer to screams as they wracked her body. All the rage and hurt she had walled in to protect herself, burst through and she was helpless to stop it. She felt betrayed by her loss of self-control and struggled to keep it from flooding out, but it was too late. She couldn’t stem the rush of pain coming out of her. Everything that she'd lost and all the years of carefully controlled loneliness poured from her until she felt emptied of it. She finally drew several deep breaths and pushed her way back up, wiping her eyes with the palms of her hands.

  Ben kissed her forehead and went to the bathroom, returning with a cold washcloth. She put the cool cloth on her face and took a few uneven breaths. He sat facing her on the bed and quietly massaged the remaining tension from her shoulders.

  “I’m losing my mind,” she finally said.

  “You had a nightmare,” he stated objectively.

  She tried to smile. “Not too late to back out.”

  He put his hand on her face. “Not a chance.” She leaned in tentatively and he kissed her gently before resting his forehead on hers. “You gonna tell me what got into you last night?”

  “I must have had too much to drink.”

  Q knew exactly what had gotten into her. Niko’s insinuations had smoldered inside of her the entire duration of the long cab ride to the Cove. As soon as Ben kissed her and settled her at the bar with a drink, her righteous indignation had bubbled over and she sat at the bar fuming and furious with herself for even entertaining Niko’s suggestions. By the time she was alone with Ben, she’d had just enough liquid courage to think that best way to get rid of the nagging doubts in the back of her mind was to fuck the fear right out of her system.

  When Ben stood up to put on a pot of coffee, Q saw jagged scratches running down the length of his naked back. She looked at her habitually sheared nails and was more than a little impressed with herself. She looked over her shoulder at her own nude body and saw similar marks. He started the coffee maker and walked back to sit in the chair by the bed.

  “Not that I’m complaining, darlin’, but you were acting like you were out to prove something.”

  Q remembered being well into her third martini before leaving the Cove with Ben, like a woman possessed. He had tried to get her to go back to his house, but she’d dragged him to the studio apartment and pounced on him. Alcohol blurred her memory, making the events of the previous night indistinct and hazy. She blushed at her behavior and hoped it wasn’t as ferocious as it seemed this morning.

  “Did I rip your shirt?” she asked hesitantly.

  He nodded to the crumpled heap of discarded clothing by the door. “Just a couple of buttons. It was the way you were talking that got me.”

  Q hung her head. “Oh, God. I was hoping I hadn’t actually said any of that out loud.”

  “I shouldn’t have let it go that far, but…” He looked guilty.

  “You liked it,” she stated.

  “Some of it, yes, especially that part on the kitchen table.” Ben winked and smiled at her. “But you weren’t yourself and that, I didn’t like.”

  Q tried to remember what had happened on the kitchen table and felt the heat rising to her face. They’d bumped into the table on the way to the bed and she’d laid back on top it and put her legs straight in the air, demanding that Ben ‘fuck her now’ along with some fairly explicit instructions as to the duration, strength, and which body part went where.

  “I am losing my mind,” she reiterated and buried her face in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Nothing to be embarrassed about, darlin’.” Ben looked down and said, “I think we should probably cut the rough sex from our repertoire though, you feel me?”

  Q nodded in agreement.

  He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. He paused before saying, “I know this is a sore subject with you, but maybe we should take a little break from sex entirely, just for a few days, until you’re feeling more like yourself. A lot’s going on right now that’s bound to bring up things…I-I don’t want you to have a nightmare like that again.” Ben’s voice broke and Q realized how worried he was.

  “What happened?” she asked softly.

  “You started tossing and turning, saying shit in your sleep. I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t. Your eyes were open, but you weren’t awake, and you kept saying ‘no’ over and over. Then you acted like you couldn’t breathe, so I pulled you up and started yelling at you to breathe, trying to get you to wake up. You let out a shriek, but you still wouldn’t breathe.” He looked up at her and said helplessly, “I couldn’t get you to breathe.”

  Q crawled off the bed and straddled him on the chair. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked at him. “I’m breathing now, aren’t I?”

  He smiled and wrapped his arms around her and held her securely to his chest.

  “You scared me, darlin’. I’m not going to lie and tell you it wasn’t awful to watch.” Ben took a deep breath in and held her closer.

  She felt his heart beat against her chest and warmth spread through her body. Her skin felt like an imperceptible barrier between them. Q became aware of how very naked they both were at this moment. Somehow, some way, Ben had found a path beyond all her little brick walls and they were now alone together. She tightened her arms around his neck and brought her mouth to his, exploring it gently with her tongue.

  Q felt him harden beneath her and her own body was aroused in response. She moved her hips slightly and shivered. She rose up just far enough for him to slip inside her and settled back down. She moaned into his kiss and began to rock gradually back and forth with nearly indiscernible movement. They held each other fast and Q could no longer perceive where her body stopped and Ben’s began. She lost track of time and the world evaporated around them as she closed her eyes. A tense wave of pleasure was building leisurely inside of her and she didn’t want it to end.

  Barely moving, softly sighing, for long minutes, hours, days, years, the wave reached its pinnacle and she felt Ben explode inside her as his body started to tremble and he groaned deeply into their kiss. She continued to move only slightly, feeling him pulse inside her. The wave that had been building finally crashed over her and her own body shuddered against him. She cried out and Ben held her closer. Long minutes passed and they continued to hold each other, lips still connected, still one body.

  Slowly, Q came back to herself and their kiss came to an end. Her mind was clear and all the terror of her dream had vanished. She looked at Ben and he smiled at her.

  “There you are,” he whispered.

  She nodded and smiled back. “You found me.”

  You’re a Good Man, Charlie Bourdel

  Charlie Bourdel would not answer his phone. Q sat at Ben’s sunny kitchen table and fumed. Ben’s empty house creaked around her. Each beam alerted each wall, who to
ld the floor, who sounded the alarm to the molding, who whispered to the ceiling that there was an intruder in the house. Q didn’t believe for a nanosecond that this house was home to anyone but Ben. She also had an irritating notion that he had left her alone in his house to either tempt her into snooping or to convince her that she should move in. In either case, she refused to rise to the bait. Her head throbbed and she still had an unpleasant taste of alcohol lingering in the back of her throat.

  Where is Ben with the goddamned po’ boys?

  She fiddled with Pete’s keys, looking at the Dollhouse keychain. Something about it had been pestering the back of her mind since she had first picked them up off the floor of her apartment a week ago. She stared at the pink neon logo. ‘The Dollhouse’ was spelled out in cursive; the black profile of a nude female silhouette lay back atop the ‘ouse’ outlined in the neon glow. She flipped it over and noticed the black on black text for the first time: ‘VIP.’

  She immediately texted Charlie:

  You can be pissed or you come with me to the Dollhouse tonight and help me figure out what to do with this VIP pass of Pete’s.

  Pushing back from the table, Q finally gave in to her hangover and walked to the refrigerator in search of a beer. She opened it and was horrified at what she found. The inside of Ben’s refrigerator was full of what looked to be organic and very healthy food.

  No, not this. Anything but this.

  Q dug around, looking for a beer, finding nothing but leeks and an assortment of vegetables she could only loosely identify.

  Oh, god. It’s clean too.

  “Who the hell buys leeks?” she muttered out loud to herself.

  She went over the contents of the bachelorette wasteland that was her own refrigerator: one jar of olives, one box of baking soda, one pint of questionable yogurt, several more than questionable stains, and two tomatoes.

  “I’m dating fucking Martha Stewart.”

  “Cookin’ ain’t a crime, Clementine,” Ben’s voice said from the doorway.

  Her heart jumped and she let out a startled scream. “Holy fuck, you scared me!”