by Maggie Thom
"Hello?" He reached for the remote and flipped off the sound to the six o'clock news.
"She met with a guy in the park today. He gave her something. A picture or something." Payme drew in a deep breath, then rolled the mixture of snot and spit in his throat before spitting a large loogie on the ground.
"You have to get that photo from her." Fear clawed its way up his throat and clung there, fluttering like a cave full of bats. He'd never actually seen the picture but he knew in detail what it contained. After all he had a starring role, though not one he wanted publicized. Someone else seeing that photo after all this time made him sick to his stomach. He'd gotten greedy, too high on himself. Thought he was really above it all. After all, he was the son-in-law of the filthy rich, the Filmores. That made him pause as he realized that embarrassing his rich in-laws might have been a stronger motivator than he'd thought. There had been a part of him that had wanted them to find it, to be humiliated beyond belief. But now he knew he'd be the only one to pay, to lose everything. They'd see to that. The only saving grace for hiring Payme had been that he could have him put away for a very long time and he knew that. And since the guy had a few enemies in prison, the odds of him living longer than a few days, was highly unlikely. He would be loyal.
"Do it now. I want it today."
This has got to end. Twenty-nine years of this. I make the rules. No one is going to change that due to one miscalculation.
He'd liked being in charge of the game. Now, however, someone had changed the rules. "Do not harm her." He had plans for using her. There was so much she didn't know about her mother but she might know enough to help him make money in the future. "I don't think she knows anything about what her mother was doing. Or be able to recognize who's in the photo. Get it."
After hanging up the phone and he collapsed back on his leather sofa. He knew that if anyone saw that photo he was finished. He'd no longer be the middle class kid who'd made it into the filthy rich club. He'd be finished. Worse, he'd be a joke. One that could go to jail.
The thought of being sent to prison where he had helped send many that he was supposed to have defended was not something he could stomach. Bile rose in his throat. He jerked forward and ran out of the room, barely making it to the bathroom sink across the hall.
He splashed cold water on his face and rinsed his mouth, ignoring the mess he'd made. It would be good if his wife Betty thought he was ill, then maybe she'd take care of him like she had in their early years together. Knowing that was highly unlikely, he braced himself on his arms. It had never really occurred to him what people would think if they knew about him. He'd never planned on it coming to light. The worst part would be what his dear father-in-law would do; he still held all the purse strings.
There was no way he was going to lose it all. He lifted his head and stared at the wall three feet away. He'd worked too hard to gain the prestige he now had. The game had taken a twist he'd never really believed would come. A twist that almost had him wishing he'd never helped Donna escape her husband. He should have cut his losses a long time ago. But they provided me with so many people to screw over.
The thrill the game had given him had been so exhilarating. He'd played them both like pawns in a chess match. Shuddering, he realized he was being called into check. This is my game. I'll be the one calling checkmate.
He hated this new feeling of fear, of no longer being in control. It was so foreign to him now. And had been for a very long time. There was one thing he knew that would make him feel better. The one thing that had been caught in a photograph. The one thing that would bring him down.
Clearing his throat, he lowered his voice making it sound like a heavy smoker's, as he picked up the phone and dialed a number he knew well. I will not be beaten at the game I invented!