by Aven Jayce
“You made love to me,” she says softly.
I shiver.
“You made love to me, Mark. It was beautiful.”
My fingers rest over my eyes and I suddenly feel unsettled. I need to get out of here without being too much of a prick.
“It was good.” I pat her leg and get my ass dressed.
“Where are you going?”
“I forgot I have work to do.”
“Crap. That was incredible for a second, but now I just feel used.”
“Don’t. I didn’t use you. Seriously. I told you, it was nice, but I thought of some things that need to be done and they can’t wait until tomorrow.”
“The first thing you thought about after sex was work? That sucks. No, you suck.”
“Sorry.” I grab my gun, kiss her cheek, and walk out.
“Good night!” she yells, bitingly.
This woman has mangled my brain.
I enter my suite and slump onto the sofa. Shit. I did exactly what I wanted, so why am I so goddamn ashamed? I’m coming unhinged over making love?
A woman who owns your heart is the devil, and the only way to kill the devil is to fuck it in the ass, cut its throat and bury it deep.
That’s what my father used to say.
I’m surprised my mother’s still alive after dealing with his bullshit. And my sister and I are poles apart whenever we discuss our childhood memories of him. He was nice to her, but hated me with a passion. Maybe she blocked it all out.
Asinine fucker.
I kick the coffee table and an echoing crash fills the room. It’s dismal in here and I need a shot to calm my nerves.
No, forget the liquor tonight. I need some weed. Luckily, I’ve got a few joints left in my bedroom and getting high might help me figure out what the fuck’s going on in my head.
I smoke when I’m under stress and need to unwind, and usually it’s a solitary experience. I don’t enjoy people yacking in my ear when I’m stoned.
I take a black metal case from my dresser and turn on my favorite music to smoke to, In the Pines, a folk song from the 1800s. It’s something that brings me peace.
After a long drag I close my eyes, sensing a massaging hand codling my brain. The pot soothes my muscles and alleviates my anxiety. I grin, literally, a dopey grin; then take another hit before heading to my bedroom deck to marvel at the mountain pines.
Hell, this woman’s turning me into a clod, forcing me into a world that I’m completely unschooled in. And to hell if my father didn’t also turn me into a clod, forcing me into his world that I was completely unschooled in. Shit. I’m just too marred to escape either one.
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun never shines
I shivered the whole night through
The melancholy voice lingers in the brisk night, seeping between the trees and down to the empty pool. The lights from the inhabited hotel rooms ignite the back property where the ash trees exhibit a few remaining leaves on their branches. It’s all rather sensational, especially the smell of the decaying leaves.
I love my property. Leaving the overpopulated city of Vegas and living in isolation was a dream I had for years, long before I ever got a divorce. I hated the smell of that dusty, polluted desert city. My father loved it. He was addicted to the twenty-four hour rush, his mansion full of people and his bed full of whores... bright lights, loud music, gambling, booze, and sex.
I tired of it after a decade. The money I was bringing in was incredible, yet I had very little time to enjoy any of it. Not the way I wanted to. The parties were demanding and I felt suffocated by the company. I was overwhelmed by the stress to keep Jameson Industries number one and I hated being compared to my father by all the other porn company kings. The competition was fierce. Plus, my dad had the Rosen twins, Dayne and Doron, and their father, David Rosen, working by his side. They were a team of four. I had no one.
But that’s my own damn fault. I wanted all the power. I couldn’t stand having a partner. Still can’t. I need complete control of everything and everyone. I’d rather be a big fish in a little pond, then...
Where will you go
I’m going where the cold wind blows
“What the...?” I whisper as a tiny flashing light bounces along the railing next to my hand then travels up my arm. I know its source; it’s coming from the opposite side of my hotel, the dark suite. This isn’t the first time the figure is standing outside on the deck off the master bedroom, using the light to say hello. I point to go back inside but the fucker won’t obey.
I tap my watch and bring up the walkie-talkie App we use to communicate. “Get inside, now.” There’s no reply, only a continual light on my body. I look down at it and shake my head. “Get the fuck inside so I know you’re safe,” I speak into my watch again. “I’m not up for games tonight or Morse code with the flashlights. Maybe another time.”
The light vanishes, only to be replaced by another. This time, a small red light coming from the woods that gleams when it strikes my watch then quickly races up my stomach to my chest... it’s a laser sight.
“Duck!” The voice from the other suite calls out. But I’m already down, just a split second before a shot from the pines thuds into my exterior wall.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I crawl inside and pull the gun from my holster. “Fuck!”
“Get the fuck inside!” I yell into my watch.
Recess is over. How the hell did that bastard, Dayne, get a gun? He’s not doing this shit to me. I’m coming for him. No one takes a shot at Mark Jameson and lives.
I run down my stairs and out my front door, slowing to a hurried pace in the hall and setting my gun back in its holster, not wanting to raise any suspicions from the guests.
“Mr. Jameson?” The voice of one of my security guards comes through my watch.
“It’s okay,” I answer.
“Did you hear that?”
“Let the guests know it’s okay,” I repeat. “It was a kid setting off a firecracker out back.”
I’m so not amused, Dayne. If you had shot at the figure holding the flashlight from the dark suite instead of me... fuck, I can’t even go there in my head.
I turn a corner and pound twice on the dark suite’s door, waiting impatiently. Two knocks means an emergency and this door better open.
“What?” I hear a voice through the steel.
“What the fuck do you mean, what? Open the freakin’ door,” I say as calmly and discreetly as possible. At least I think I did. Everything sounds twenty times louder because I’m stoned. Plus my eyes are wavy and my heart’s racing. I’m feeling paranoid. “Did you see what Dayne did? That’s like shooting a man in the back. It was a cheap shot.” I kick the door in an unreasonable state. I’m not chill and I know it won’t be opened when I’m like this. No one wants to deal with a pissed off madman.
“I heard the shot. Do you think he’s coming inside?”
“Keep this suite dark at all times and lock the back door. No one, you hear me, no one should be coming in or out on that deck. Listen to me and you’ll be fine.”
“I’m worried.”
“Don’t, the fucker will be dead soon.”
There’s a faint sigh. “I don’t want to hear that you’re a murderer.”
“Fine, then a Jameson will be dead soon.”
“Jesus, Mark.”
“One or the other. I can’t be a savior without being a killer.” I look around the corner and down the quiet hall where two guests are walking at a distance. “Open the door.”
“Is it necessary?”
“I’m itching to slap someone upside the head. There shouldn’t be anyone on that back deck playing around with a flashlight while Dayne’s in the area!”
“You know you’d get your ass kicked as soon as you raised your hand. The flashlight got your attention and probably saved your life. Just be gracious and don’t think about slapping anyone.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Give me
the code so I can open your door in case there’s another emergency.”
“Fuck no. You said it was safer for you not to have it. No!”
“Just a test,” I whisper. “Remember to keep the lights out and the doors and windows shut. Don’t do anything stupid, either, like ordering take-out. You should have plenty of food.” I look down the hall again and see it’s empty. “It shouldn’t take much longer,” I mumble. “If I could figure out where he’s staying it’d already be over and done with.”
“Who’s the woman?”
“What woman?”
“The one by the pool who you looked heartbroken over.”
“No one.”
“Bullshit.”
“This door-side conversation has already lasted too long.”
“You trust her?”
“What?”
“Mark. Do. You. Trust. Her? It’s a simple question.”
“I don’t have any reason not to.”
“I’ve never heard you say such an asinine thing. You know full well those are the ones who’ll put a knife in your back. ‘I don’t have any reason not to?’ Seriously? Why aren’t you thinking straight?”
“Fuck off.”
“Yep, fuck off and goodnight.”
I exhale and linger back to the opposite end of the hotel. Everything seems to be in need of repair when I’m stoned. And I mean my life and this hotel. It’s not something I notice unless I leave the peaceful solitude and dim lights of my suite.
I squint at the traditional damask patterned carpet that could use replacing, and the walls in need of a fresh coat of paint. I’m sure in the morning it’ll all look brand spanking new, but right now I feel like I’m in a decrepit hell hole. I think I need more weed after a gunshot and a dazed discussion, but I also know I’m still high and shouldn’t over do it when Dayne’s around.
Fuck, I can’t believe he took a shot from that distance. He’s more of the type to shoot a man in the face at point blank range. What gives?
I stop at Julia’s room and knock, still apprehensive of her control, but unable to stand the fact that she’s in this room alone, not after what just happened.
“Don’t expect to fuck me and just take off again,” she says before the door is even open. “Next time you leave I’ll follow you out and knee you in the nuts.”
I smile, pulling her from her room, lifting her over my shoulder, and kidnapping her for the night.
“I want you in my place while I work, not to fuck, but so I can keep an eye on you. I warned you I’d get possessive once you arrived. Now no more fucking tonight. You can sleep while I track someone down on my laptop.”
“Make love to, not fuck” she says playfully while kicking her feet on the way to my bedroom. “Admit it, you made love to me.”
“Fine.” I fling her onto the bed, lock my bedroom door that leads to the deck, and close my blinds. “You’re the lucky winner of a mentally-ill, controlling cocksucker. Now stay in that bed and don’t move your ass unless I tell you it’s okay. That includes getting up to use the bathroom.”
My bed is positioned away from the windows and door so I’m not too worried about a second shot, and considering the height of the suite, a bullet would never make this angle anyway, not unless Dayne climbed forty feet into one of those pines. But, I’m still being overly cautious. The bastard caught me in the perfect spot, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been out there all day, waiting for that moment.
I’m going to figure out where the fuck he’s hiding out.
“Have you ever done that before? Sucked cock?” She smiles, in a playful mood.
“That’s not a conversation I want to get into when I’m about to work. Shut your eyes and try to get some sleep.”
“Wow. So you have?”
“I didn’t say that,” I reply, sitting in a leather chair with my computer in my lap and my feet on the bed.
“You didn’t say no. When? Recently?”
“Nope. Many years ago.”
“Was it someone special?” She lies on her stomach with her hands under her chin and her legs waving in the air like a teenage girl.
“You’re not tired, are you?”
“No.” She rolls over and stares at the ceiling.
“You’re fidgety.”
“Can you use the computer and talk to me at the same time? And why does it smell like dope in here? Did you take off to get high and not invite me along? What’s that all about? You slug.”
“Will you calm the fuck down if I give you some? It’s like you ate a bag of sugar after I left.”
“I don’t need any, I’m high on my orgasm.” She rolls back over and kicks her feet once more. “Now I know why you have that dumbass grin on your face... so tell me about the cock. How old were you? Are you bi? Is that why you enjoy that cock mask you own?”
“Jules, shut it.”
She’s silent for a moment then asks the same questions over again.
In a huff, I take a joint out of the drawer and toss it on the bed. “Inhale, deeply, or I’m gonna put a pillow over your face.”
“Geez. What if I don’t smoke?”
I give her a look of disbelief as I settle back into the chair.
“Fine.”
“Remind me never to make love to you again.”
“Ha! You said it!”
“The lighter’s next to the bed, smoke it,” I request while checking my email, bank accounts, and the system for the names of my guests. It’s possible someone’s here with Dayne and wouldn’t I be the fool if his sidekick’s staying in my hotel. I also need to search through some of my security cam footage to see what kind of car Dayne drives and the direction he took off in yesterday. I’ll need to check the back property footage and live cams as well. I’m going hunting for this dickhead.
“You’re gawking,” I say, keeping my face in my computer. “I can feel your eyes burning a hole in my head.”
“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this happy. Will you talk to me now?”
“I can talk as I run through some video.”
Her feet rub against mine, causing my pulse to accelerate.
“Are you bi?” she asks in a mellower voice.
“Does it matter?”
“No, I’m just curious.”
“No.”
“So it’s something you did for your dad’s porn company then?”
I nod.
“Was it enjoyable?”
“Just with one.”
I continue viewing footage and she sits quietly, still staring and waiting patiently for me to reveal more without her constant questioning. A few minutes pass before she eagerly nudges my feet.
“What?” I ask softly.
“Why only one? What made him different from all the rest?”
I exhale and decide to pay attention until her questions fade. Giving her what she desires, no matter how disturbing the answer. Eventually, she’ll realize she doesn’t want to hear anything about my past.
“My father was in love with him and I was jealous of that relationship. I was smitten because he was young and handsome, easy to control, and in need of saving.”
“Did you?”
“What, save him?”
She nods.
“No. I fucked him when I was told and then he disappeared for a while. I think the reason I was drawn to the guy was because I wished I could be him, but only based on my father’s interest. I’m convinced my father wanted him as a son instead of me.”
“That’s sick, Mark.”
“You asked.”
“You still talk to him?”
“I don’t have much choice since he married my sister.”
“What?” She sits up unexpectedly with wide, red eyes.
“They didn’t meet until a few years after I was with him. So it’s not like I was screwing my brother-in-law. And I doubt my sister is even aware of all the details. The less she knows, the better.”
“Holy fuck.” She falls back on the bed
. “You were with your sister’s husband?”
“I already said it wasn’t like that.”
“Am I high? Like, really high?”
“Yeah.” I grin.
“Are you fucking with me? You are, right?”
I laugh. Maybe this is the perfect time to tell her all the shit she wants to hear. “Sometimes, I pretend like I’m in love with him and he freaks out, cowering like a dog. It’s good fun.”
“Good fun for him too? Is it a friendly relationship?”
“No, he gets pissed at me, and he hasn’t a clue I adore him in a little brother kind of way. And he’s got a few problems, like when he drinks, he’s a jackass.”
She covers her eyes with her forearm to block the bedroom light.
“Ohh, why did I ask?” she sighs. “Okay, new subject. Do you remember any of your dreams from when you were a kid?”
“What sort of dreams, you mean what I wanted to be when I grew up?” I question, dimming the lamp on the table next to us.
“No, actual dreams. Do you remember any of them? I always dreamt about falling. Falling off a cliff, out of hot air balloons, from trees. Falling, falling, falling. But those dreams are probably rather common.”
“Where do these random questions come from?” I ask with no response.
I think for a moment, knowing one dream that has always haunted me, but unsure if she can handle something dark after the other crap. I probe for something else but nothing comes to mind.
“Anything?” she asks. “Anything at all?”
“A nightmare I had when I was seven or eight has always stuck with me, but I don’t want you to get all freaked out if I tell you.”
“Why, is it about me?” She peers out from her arm.
“No, I said I was a kid.” I shake my head. “It was disturbing and since you’re high...”
“Go ahead. I can handle disturbing.”
“Remember, you asked.” I place my hands on the arms of the chair and lean back. “In this dream, I entered the kitchen of my childhood home and my mother was taking a pie out of the oven. She asked me if I wanted a piece and when I looked to see what kind it was, I saw my sister’s head baked inside. My mother began slicing it and I was fixed in terror, unable to run away, you know like those cartoons where the feet move but the character doesn’t get anywhere? That was me. I woke up in a sweat and crept to the kitchen to see if it had really happened. The dream was so vivid; the smells, colors, voices, temperature of the oven, it was like I had actually witnessed it. I couldn’t separate my dream from reality and became paranoid. I felt helpless and panicky for days.”