by W L Knightly
“Hey, Finn. How’s it going, man?” He put the broom down and leaned back on his work stool.
“Good. I’m just calling to tell you that the job is yours. I’ll have to call you later about exact amounts, but I got the all-clear from the moneymen. I’ll get the sketches to you, along with the dimensions, and we’ll talk about the cost as soon as possible.”
Logan already knew a ballpark amount, and it was worth celebrating. “Sounds great, man. I’m looking forward to getting started.” His chest swelled with pride for his craft and joy that someone else appreciated it. He hoped this was a sign that his dry spell was ending. He knew if he did a good job, he’d get referrals and possibly more work from Finn on other projects.
He and Finn ended the call, and he was so excited that he left the pile of shavings and went upstairs to get ready. With one call, his desire to see Lidia had changed. Not only did he want to see her, but he wanted to share his good news with her. Sure, it was mostly to show her that he still had talent and that people were interested, but he realized at that moment, that she was all he had.
He couldn’t exactly call up Bay Collins and tell him his good news, and the few other friends he partied with were long gone once Lidia came into his life. He’d given them up to be at Lidia’s beck and call.
Logan quickly showered and put on a pair of jeans and a nice button-down, both of which Lidia had bought, and then took out his favorite pair of shoes that Lidia had been trying to replace for the past three years. To him, they were broken-in and comfortable, much like she was. Reaching into the toe, he pulled out the last hundred-dollar bill and then decided to slip them on. With a last, quick glance in the mirror, he grabbed his keys and hurried out to buy some wine and flowers.
Nearly an hour later, after he’d driven all over town for a specific brand of wine, he pulled into the large gates of her neighborhood and then into the driveway in front of her large, white house.
He parked behind her car, which didn’t look like it had moved, judging by the crooked way he’d seen it parked earlier in the day. He grabbed the wine and the bouquet of flowers and walked to the door.
Letting himself in, he was surprised to find her standing in the foyer. “Dinner is almost ready. I hope you don’t mind having frozen lasagna.” She always made dinner on Wednesdays, just like she’d done for her husband, but she usually went all out.
“Frozen?” Logan followed her into the kitchen and placed the wine on the counter. He held out the flowers, which she took, giving him a peck on the cheek, and then walked around the island to find a vase.
She curled her lip. “Yes, frozen. It will go with that cheap wine you bought.”
He would have been insulted if that hadn’t been the point. “You don’t remember this?” He turned the label so she could see it. “From that first night in my old apartment? Remember, we made love all night and drank the entire bottle?”
She nodded and then let out a breath. “I remember. Thank you.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sorry. I’m just in a mood, and I’m tired, and I didn’t feel like standing at the stove.”
“It makes no difference to me if it’s frozen, but I know you. You’re not one to cut corners on Wednesday dinners.”
“I’m just tired. Is that a crime?” She snapped at him in a tone she usually reserved for her son.
He didn’t want to upset her further. He was too worried about her behavior and knew that arguing wouldn’t make things any better. “Are you well?”
“Yes, I’m well. Is that a crack about my age? Because it’s never bothered you before.”
Logan held his hands up. “No, I’m just concerned, but I don’t want to fight. In fact, I have great news.”
The oven timer went off, and she walked around to the range and grabbed a couple of pot holders. “Could you help me with this?”
He rushed around and got the pot holders. Then he reached into the hot oven to retrieve the dish. “It smells good.”
“So, what’s this wonderful news?” She cleared a space on the stove top, and Logan placed the bubbling pan on the front burner.
“A friend of mine, who I saw at the funeral, is hiring me to do a large piece for a movie production in LA. I’m waiting for more information, but I got word tonight the job is mine.”
“How nice. So, at the end of this project, you’ll be right back to being out of work?” She turned and leaned against the counter. “That’s not a job, Logan. A job is hard labor, where you roll up your sleeves and get dirty or negotiate hard deals. What you’re doing is a short-term project.”
“I’m sure I’ll break a sweat if that what you’re concerned about.”
She sighed. “What I’m concerned about is you ever making it on your own. You’re not interested in looking for a real job, and I’ve entertained this hobby of yours long enough that I can see it’s not ever going to pay off. You need something consistent. Something that is going to pay your rent every month.”
Logan couldn’t even argue with her. He hadn’t been paying his bills or his rent for a while now, but only because she’d moved him out of his affordable apartment and into the abandoned firehouse, which he renovated himself to save her money. When he was done, she told him it was his to live in as long as they were together. The donut shop was supposed to make the place self-sufficient, and for a while, it had, until she decided to start keeping the rent for herself.
“I’m hoping this leads to more work,” Logan said. “This could be a huge deal for me.”
“There is active hope, and there is idle hope. Active hope is when you’re out actively pursuing the things you hope for, and idle hope is you sitting around hoping that those things will fall into your lap. It’s counterproductive, and my husband didn’t build his fortune with idle fucking hope.” She grabbed a spatula and stabbed it into the steamy lasagna.
“You used to like me because I wasn’t like your husband, but you sure spend a lot of time comparing us.” He thought of the other women in his life who he could compare her to, but he decided that he was better off fixing his plate and sitting down to eat. At least then, it would keep his mouth too busy to say all the things he was tempted to.
They sat at the small kitchen table, instead of the formal dining room where they usually sat, and Logan wondered if she was going to make nice when dinner was over and want to fuck like usual.
“I’m sorry,” she said a moment later. He thought she was going to apologize for the way she’d been behaving, but then, she cleared her throat and took a sip of the cheap wine. “I’m afraid I’m not quite in the mood tonight. Feel free to come to bed whenever.”
He knew suggesting he just go home wasn’t going to work. She liked him sleeping over so she knew where he was. She had no reason to think he was cheating on her, but Lidia’s mood swings and controlling nature had nothing to do with reason.
Logan’s phone vibrated in his lap. He looked down and saw a notification from Hannah, and to his surprise, he was instantly turned on just by seeing her name.
“That’s fine,” he said. “I think I’ll just watch some TV in the den and come up a little later. There’s a match on tonight.” She knew he loved to watch kickboxing, and she never cared that he watched her TV as long as she didn’t have better things for him to do.
She sighed. “Fine, just keep the volume low.” She downed her glass of cheap wine and then looked at the bottle. “I remember this stuff. It isn’t all that bad.” She poured herself another glass, and when it was time for her to go to bed, she took the entire bottle.
Logan did the dishes as she went up to her room. After he was finished, he spread out on the large couch in the den and turned on the TV. Then, his phone sounded again. He opened the texts and saw that Hannah had sent a picture of a beer, along with a message: Just finishing up the last of Tad’s stash. The second message read: There are five more. Interested? Hate to drink alone.
He messaged back, wishing he could leave and go to her place. I wish I could.
Another time?
You busy?
He wasn’t sure how to answer, but he didn’t feel like explaining about Lidia. He responded, No. Early morning. In for the night.
That’s too bad. I guess I’ll have to drink them all by myself.
I love a woman who can handle beer. He wondered what kind of a drunk she was. Lidia could put away some alcohol and not even feel it. As a matter of fact, he was sure she’d finished the entire bottle of cheap wine by the time she fell asleep.
His phone pinged again. I don’t usually drink much. Feeling melon colored.
Logan tried not to laugh too loudly at the obvious typo.
She messaged again almost instantly. I mean melancholy. Do people still use that word?
Use any word you want. You’re entitled. She’d been through so much, and he couldn’t help but have a soft spot for her.
I want to forget. Is that horrible?
He knew exactly how she felt, but for a different reason. No, it’s understandable. Sometimes, I like to forget the world, too.
Hannah’s next message came through. Help me?
For some reason, those two simple words sent a lick of heat through him and got his blood pumping. His cock hardened and strained against his jeans. How would I do that?
Tell me something about yourself. Something I don’t know.
He couldn’t exactly tell her about Lidia, but he thought of other things, like his art and his new job with Finn. He told her about those things. Hannah seemed more excited about the news than Lidia, which felt nice that someone actually cared enough to listen. Before he knew it, the two were flirting, and the later it got and the more beers she put away, his need for a release grew even stronger.
You turn me on, he sent. Logan was feeling bold and wondered if he should test the waters. It wasn’t often a younger woman made him so hot.
She sent a photo, a classic selfie pose, with the camera angled down so she could see the perfect amount of cleavage. Her lips were wrapped around her beer bottle, which only put other ideas in his head. He slipped his hand down into his pants and gripped his cock to give it a squeeze. He imagined her there with him, her large breasts wrapped around his cock.
Damn, you’re hot. He let loose a long breath and slowed his pace.
You know what this means? she wrote. You owe me a picture too.
He couldn’t believe that she wanted to see a picture of him, but he raked his hands through his hair, snapped a picture, and sent it.
Hannah replied. You’re hot too. Wish you were here.
She couldn’t mean it, could she? And he couldn’t actually be sexually attracted to a woman her age, could he? It wasn’t that he didn’t find all women gorgeous, but he’d never really been with anyone remotely close to his own age. His needs were those that only a woman with experience could give satisfy. He needed a certain kind of nurturing. At least, that’s what Bay had told him when he came into the bathroom at camp and found him jerking off to a picture of a naked woman.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he’d said. “I was just coming to bust one off myself. What you got there?”
“Picture of a naked lady.” Logan went to tuck the picture into his pocket and put it away, but Bay snatched it from the back of the toilet.
“She’s a little old, but she’s hot. Mind if I borrow it?”
Logan had gotten so angry. He wasn’t about to share her with anyone. “No.” He tried to take the photo back, but Bay put out his hand and held him back.
“Easy. I just want to get a better look. I have a picture of Tits, anyway.” Bay paused. “This lady. I know her. She’s the one who dropped you off this year. That’s your mother, isn’t it?”
Logan’s cheeks had burned with shame. “Don’t tell anyone. I don’t do it because I’m into her like that.”
“Then what are you thinking?” Bay unzipped his pants. “Come on, you can tell me. This can be our secret.” He pulled out a picture of Tits, placed it on the back of the toilet, and spit in his palm.
Logan had never had anyone listen to him before, or care what he had to say without judging. “I just want to show her I’m not a little boy. I’m a man. I can do the manly things her boyfriends do.”
“So, you don’t like her fucking her boyfriends? That’s cool, man. Show that bitch who’s boss.” He took the photo and placed it next to Tits’s picture. Then, he closed his eyes and worked himself over, peeking now and then at the pictures before them. Logan got back to work, and before he knew it, he was orgasming, and Bay stepped back to let him aim for the bowl.
“You promise this is our secret?” Logan had asked afterward.
“Fuck yeah. You think I want everyone knowing we beat off together? We’re friends, man. We’re entitled to a few secrets. Besides, your anger is more natural than you think. I hate my mother, too.”
Logan shook his head. “I don’t hate her.”
“Of course, you do. You want to defile her. You’re broken, Logan. It’s okay, man. We’re all a little broken inside.”
Another ping brought his mind back to the present. Thanks for talking to me. You’re really a sweet friend.
By the time she finished her last beer and told him goodnight, he was right on the edge of orgasm. He closed his eyes and laid back, working himself over as images swirled in his mind of him thrusting between her legs, buried deep inside her slick heat. When he came, he pulled his lips in tight and tried not to make a sound.
In the silence that followed, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t broken after all.
8
Darek
Darek had spent the day filling out his final reports on the murders of Alicia David and Victor Barnes. He hated to pin the crimes on Tad, but the reports laid out a trail of breadcrumbs ending with his suicide.
When Darek got back to his motel room after work, he picked up his burner phone and checked for messages, but there weren’t any. Then again, he hadn’t really engaged with the mystery person on the other end of the phone. He decided to send a little message in the hope of seeing if the killer would bite. You won’t get away with this.
He waited to see if anything would come back, but nothing did. He had to wonder if the killer still had that number. Perhaps they didn’t.
With no new leads, he knew he had to reexamine what he already knew. Maybe there was some connection he had missed. The brands had been sold to different people, and the person who bought the Capricorn one and used it on Barnes had purchased the brand under the name Emma Johnson. Darek knew that was a fake name, so perhaps the other buyers had used fake names as well. It was worth investigating.
Darek knew that Bay had given the list to Corey, but Logan surely had another copy. Darek gave Logan a call. He tapped his pen on the bedside table, hoping to write the names on the receipt from his dinner. He heard someone pick up, and a whizzing sound, like a saw or perhaps a grinder, assaulted his ears. “Logan?”
The sound winded down. “Sorry, man. I was in the middle of work.”
“Oh, I hate to bother you, but I just wanted to see if you had another copy of that list you gave Bay. The one with the names of the buyers.”
“No, that was my only copy, but I could look it up again if I need to.”
“Do you think you could do that in the next few days?” Darek asked. “Bay gave the names to Corey, but I couldn’t reach him. I think the names are all fake, and with any luck, they’ll give me a clue of some sort. At least, I’m hoping.”
“I feel like an idiot for not recognizing that first buyer. I know you must think I’m a real asshole, but the only way I can cope with any of that is to put it out of my head. It eats at me, you know? I guess it ate at Tad, too.”
“Yeah, well, all I can do is find the person responsible for these murders and keep them from coming after the rest of us.”
“You think he’ll do that?” Logan asked. “That he’ll come for us?”
“I have no idea, but I know that there’s someone out th
ere, Logan. Someone has it out for us, and they’re not going to let Tad’s death be the end of things.” He couldn’t tell him that Logan had a target on his back, or that the killer had shown his sign to him. Not yet, anyway. “Have you noticed anything strange lately? Anyone hanging around that you’re not used to? Anyone sending you notes or leaving you messages?”
“Aside from friends, no. The only person I’ve talked to is Finn and Hannah Halston, aside from my girlfriend, of course.”
Darek sat up straighter and gripped the phone tighter. “You talked to Hannah? How’s she doing?”
“She’s okay. The funeral was nice; you should have been there.”
“Who all was there?” Darek needed to know if any of the other Zodiacs were in town for the occasion.
“Finn and me. That’s it. None of you other selfish assholes showed up.”
“I didn’t think it would be smart, man,” Darek said. “I had to go sit with my mother in the nursing home anyway.”
“You could have come on police business, like the other cops. No one would have thought a thing about it.”
Darek wasn’t so sure about that. “Were there many?”
“Just a few.”
“Well, believe it or not, I’m sorry I missed it.”
“How do you do it, Darek? How do you walk the line? Are you continuously at odds with yourself? I mean, knowing you cut up that poor girl with the rest of us, and then dumped her out behind that diner, and another man takes the blame?”
“I don’t know how I do it, but I know why I do it. It’s for you and for the others.”
Logan laughed. “Bay says you’re full of shit. That you do it for yourself. I think he’s right. I guess it helps that you do shit without remembering.”
“I suppose it does, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me.” Darek couldn’t believe the way he was talking to him. He seemed to have an ax to grind, and that was just the kind of person who would do something to get revenge. “Tell me, do you have a score to settle, Logan?”