by Aven Jayce
“I knew it,” I say. “So why didn’t you keep Daxton and ask for a ransom if all you wanted was money?”
She looks at the side of my face and over my shoulder then down my chest, ignoring my question.
“Did Dayne cut you?”
“He did,” I lie.
“But he doesn’t use knives.”
“He grabbed mine.”
She swims in front of me with hopeful eyes, touching the knick over my heart with a gentle hand. “It looks fresh... is he still alive? This can’t be more than a day old.”
I don’t respond.
“What did you do to him?”
“He’s dead,” is all I say.
Her hands fall in disappointment. Like all people who are missing someone from their lives, the hope that they could be out in the world lingers on until you see a body. The body is what makes death real. I didn’t believe my father was dead until I saw him laid out in the morgue. Most of his face and head were blown apart, but his one eye was still intact. I’ll never forget my father’s eyes. No doubt, it was him.
“I can’t kill a child,” she whispers.
“Not many people can, but I would’ve given you money to get him back. That was fucked up on your part not to ask for it.”
“You would’ve killed me and taken your money back anyway. Now that I didn’t get anything from you, I’m safe.”
I laugh with a hand on each of her shoulders, squeezing firmly. “You’re stuck in a dream if that’s what you believe. Christ’s sake, I know a lot more about you than you think.”
She shakes her head in disbelief.
“Alright bitch.” My nose is against hers as I whisper with a clenched jaw. “You fucked with my sister, my father, and now my nephew. With this fog around us I could hold you underwater until your lungs fill with water and the cops would call it an accidental drowning.”
“No asshat, you can’t. My name is associated with Dayne and your father. You’d be fucked if my body were found in your pool. They’d ask about Dayne and wonder where he was and what I was doing here.” She’s an inch from my lips, about to bite. “You’d be fucked,” she says. “F-U-C-K-E-D. And just like I can’t kill a child, I bet you can’t kill a woman. If I were afraid of you, I wouldn’t be in this pool.”
I release her, about to detonate. “Then I won’t be leaving any trace of your body, just like Dayne’s. The two of you will disappear from the face of this earth forever, never to be seen or heard from again.”
With a headshake, she says faintly, “Bullshit. I keep thinking he’s in your room or somewhere in this hotel.” She turns, gazing at the glowing windows and the men standing around the pool. Looking up and around then back. “You’re a murderer. I knew it the moment Dayne didn’t return. I wanted to punish you, however, there’s a chance you’re lying, right?”
So she did show up to see if he was still alive.
“I don’t lie,” I lie.
Death can certainly throw people into a state of confusion and disbelief. But just as quickly, someone like Mera snaps out of it and focuses on other shit.
“So this is all a facade?” She looks back at my remarkable architectural feat. Massive dark logs with hefty fieldstone emphasize the fireplaces, windows, and balconies, and warm lights from every room light the grounds. It’s a sensational retreat at night. “Your hotel is supposedly elegant. I saw online that you have fresh Mariposa Lilies in every room and a grand restaurant. You’ve built your own haven in the mountains, isolating yourself from everyone and everything... hiding out from the rest of the world.” Her eyes gaze at my suite and then to the opposite end where my sister stayed. “You’ve tried to rebuild your life by creating your own world, but just because you built this place doesn’t mean you’ve changed. You’re still a shithead. If people knew the true you they’d call this place the Jameson Asylum.” She turns with a grin. “How is your mother, by the way? She still alive?”
I grab her arm and pull her closer. “Don’t say a fucking word about my family. And why the hell would I ever want to change? I’m quite fond of myself.”
“Oh, that’s right, I forgot you’re vain, arrogant, egotistical... what a guy. I bet you’re getting a lot of muff out here too... you must be the cream of the crop.” She studies the men around the pool. “Yep, Marcus Wild, son of Paul and Elizabeth, brother of Sophia, and a piece of shit to all who cross your path, you’re the big star in South Lake Tahoe,” she laughs. “Did you think your life in Vegas wouldn’t follow you out here? Who are you hiding from anyway?”
“I’m not hiding from anyone. Just think about the name of my hotel.”
“Not hiding?” She doubts. “Only from yourself. And I’m not surprised you used your own name for your hotel, fucking narcissist.” She swallows another gulp of beer then examines the contents of the bottle, swirling the liquid high in the air. “You probably drugged this, right?”
“Should’ve.”
“Are you sure you didn’t?”
“Sounds like you wanted me too. Are you looking for a date rape or something sick like that?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She shrugs.
God, I despise her. My hands twitch in anger as I chug the rest of my beer. “Your comment disgusts me and, unlike you, I don’t drug people to overpower them. I have other ways of doing it. Men who drug women are cowards.”
My head shifts quickly to a guy expelling a catcall toward someone walking into the pool. Jules is back. She wades in and snubs the whistling fool.
“Nice ass,” he says.
My fists clench, but I hold back.
“Hey, baby. What’s your name?”
“Sarah,” she says.
What the fuck is she doing?
“Saaarah!” the guy sings. “Saaarah, come back and show me your titters!”
“Knock it off!” I call out.
“Whoa, tough guy. Mind your own freakin’ business while I’m doing my thing with the ladies.”
“A real man would beat the shit out of that guy,” Mera says.
“I’m not placing a hand on any of my guests and getting sued. When the time comes, I’ll have him removed. I’ve got a business here and a reputation to uphold. I’m not smacking the guy around.”
“Sarah, wait!” He steps into the pool, glass held high above the water while walking toward her. She gives him the finger only to get a grin in response.
“Sarah, baby. You telling me you wanna finger fuck? Let’s go up to my room.”
“Hey!” I shout. “One more time and your ass will be down your throat.”
“Fuck off. I’m busy, shithead.”
Mera snickers. “I thought you had a reputation to uphold. Dumbass. Hey, Sarah,” she calls out. “Come over here and hang with us. We’ll protect you from Howdy Doody.”
“Clever,” he says. “Like I haven’t been called that before.”
That’s the perfect name for this guy; he looks just like the redheaded puppet.
Jules smiles and swims closer. “Hi,” she says. “I guess that guy’s just like the rest of us out here tonight - drunk off our asses,” she laughs. “Hope he doesn’t cause a fight.” She starts to swim away, but Mera tugs her back.
“Stay here for awhile. I’m Mera and this is Mark.”
“Sarah.” She nods as Mera offers her some beer. “Thanks, I’ll have a few sips.”
I’m fascinated with the show she’s putting on and curious if she has a plan or if she’s just along for the ride. I told her I’d take care of Mera, but a united kill could be the next step in our relationship. Like she said, we both have the power. We’re one. It’s why I asked her down here in the first place, not to kill, but to be a part of it. It would be like taking the plunge into a joint bank account.
“You here alone?” Mera asks.
“Yeah, traveling from California to Vegas. You?”
“I’m going to Vegas too... so what’s your plan when you get there?”
Julia drinks and I can tell she
’s trying to think of a response. “I got a job at Peek’s Lounge,” she finally says.
“The strip joint?” Mera gasps. “That place pays well.” She’s intrigued, moving closer to Jules, placing a hand on her leg and smiling pretty at her new friend. And Jules is fucking working her better than I ever could. Shit, leave it to a woman to school another woman. But, how the fuck does she know about...
“Have you been to Peek’s Lounge?” I ask.
Jules takes another long drink before responding. “Yes, for an event called One Night Stained. Lots of cock on stage that night.”
“Sounds like total stud action!” Mera becomes a wide-eyed kid. “Peek’s makes a bundle off their women, but I never knew they had men there too.”
“Yah.” She nods and I can tell she’s making this shit up, and doing a damn good job of it. She’s lucky Mera doesn’t catch on.
“Are they still hiring?” Mera asks.
She nods, placing the beer on the concrete behind us “You can follow me there in the morning if you’d like. I could use the company on the road, especially when I stop for gas and lunch.”
“It’s a date.”
“Good, I love dates.” She smiles, gaining Mera’s trust in less than five minutes, which confirms how lonesome Mera truly is.
“Saaarah!” The drunken shit returns. “Swim over here, baby. Let’s talk about that finger of yours.”
“Busy,” Jules says. I pull her next to me and she wraps her legs around mine while Mera does the same on my opposite side.
“Hey shithead, is that your daughter?” the drunk sneers. “Let her go so she can be with someone her own age, unless you enjoy molesting your kid.”
“You fuck.” I rush forward.
The guy tosses his drink poolside and hurries out, running behind a lounger, yeah, like a wood chair’s gonna protect him. That’s what I thought, pussy. Who’s the tough guy, now?
“Thanks,” Jules says.
“I’ll be right back.” Mera swims off. “Need to pee.”
Jules takes the beer and follows her. “I’m coming too.”
“Wait,” I whisper, hoping she has her Berti. Mera’s a fucking moron, but it’s possible she’s playing right along with our game and knows Jules and I are together.
My eyes are glued on her as she walks through the water with the raised bottle, her head turned, giving me a reassuring smile. Come back to me.
“Be careful,” I say.
“There’s safety in numbers!” Mera calls out as she turns her nose up at the drunken asshole and walks into my hotel.
I know Jules understands my reference is to Mera and not the drunk.
“Sarah, your tits rock. Come hang... hang with my long schlong and me. Maybe I can squeeze it between ‘em.”
That bastard. If he takes one more step...
“What do you say? Can I get a titty sandwich? I’ll pay ya. Ten bucks.”
“Get your hand off me.” Jules frowns, glaring at his firm grip on her arm. She clenches a fist in preparation to strike.
“Don’t hit him,” I yell, calling security on my watch as I’m speeding through the water. “Pool area, now,” I order. “If two of you are here tonight, I need you both out here.”
“I’ve got a king suite and a king schlong that needs some lovin’. Let’s party, baby.” He starts to draw her inside, yanking her arm and gripping her neck. She pulls back, struggling to get away.
“Fucker! You’re dead!” I shout.
A group of men by the door cheer, spurring him on. “Remember to follow the law!” one laughs. “Use a condom even if she says no.”
I’m finally out and Joe, my security guard, is also on the scene, arriving a moment before I pound the shit out of the prick.
Jules is released and the drunk immediately raises his hands, denying anything’s wrong. She takes her sweatshirt and runs inside, heading toward the women’s restroom.
“Hey, I’m just having a little fun, that’s all.”
Joe nods and looks at me. “What’s the problem, Mr. Jameson?”
“Escort this idiot to his room so he can get his bags then lead him to the front desk to check out. I want him removed immediately. Write in the report that he was drunk, acting in an disorderly manner, touched a woman inappropriately, and is being obnoxious to guests.”
“Shit, you own this place? Hey, bro, I didn’t mean any harm. Seriously. I’ll chill.”
I ignore his request and slip into my robe, watching security escort him inside while the other guys around the pool scatter.
My nostrils flare. My walk is quick. My face peeved, knuckles white, blood pumping, breath rapid... the knife from my pocket in hand, maddened by this little shit. This isn’t over.
I call security again. “Joe, tell me when he’s checking out. I want to know as soon as he’s off my premises.”
“Will do, sir.”
Damn it.
I pound my door on the way inside my suite. “Piece of shit asscock,” I fume, taking a shot of whiskey before I dress in a pair of jeans and my hoodie. “Don’t fuck with me... don’t fuck with my woman.”
I call Jules. No answer. Text her. No answer. I pace.
“Jesus, princess. What are you doing? Be safe.”
My heart tells me she’s okay. Maybe she’ll go back to the pool with Mera. Or she’ll take her to the bar and get her drunk. It’s okay. It’s all good. I have to keep telling myself that while I deal with this fucker, I need to believe we’re a hell of a lot more dangerous to Mera than she is to us.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I grab my truck keys and race to my garage, starting the engine and pulling onto my private drive where I wait. I’m not letting this asshole go just so he can screw with some other women tomorrow or the next day.
A call comes in from security. “Mr. Jameson, he’s at the desk now.”
“Is it just him?”
“Yeah. He seems to be here alone, hold on.”
I hear a conversation in the background, one-sided... sounds like the guy is talking on his cell. Joe gets back on the line and informs me he’s talking to someone about driving to Reno for the night then heading to Vegas tomorrow afternoon.
“He’s going off about having to drive when he’s drunk,” Joe says.
“Well, he’s not staying here.”
“I don’t blame you. Is the woman okay?”
“He didn’t hurt her, but he could’ve.”
“Alright, he’s headed out your front door now. Good riddance.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
It’s always better to handle things on your own so the cops don’t have to be called to chaperon the unruly guests away.
I drive to the main road and turn around, parked on the side and at the very end of my long hotel drive, waiting for his lights to shine in the darkness.
Oh, fuck yes... a text from Jules. She’s okay.
I love our life together.
“Me too,” I whisper.
Don’t be Super Woman tonight. I text her back.
Wonder Woman. She replies.
Wonder Woman, Super Woman, whatever.
Here he comes. I toss my phone on the passenger seat, start the truck, and watch him swerve. He’s driving like a ninety-year-old, blind man with no arms who’s having a heart attack. He’d probably kill innocent people if I let him out on the road. Once again, I’m doing society a favor, in more ways than one.
Fifty feet. Inching along. Fuck, I can’t wait to tear him from limb to limb. He’s much smaller than me in height and weight. I’ll crush him. Thirty feet. I think he’s in a Suzuki Jimny. Made for women... what they would call ‘cute’... a pussy vehicle.
“That car fits you, buddy.”
Twenty feet away and I pull out, blocking the end of my drive. He brakes then flashes his headlights.
“Hey asshole,” he rolls down his window and shouts, “move out of the way.”
I step out of the truck and walk calmly to the driver’s side. He lo
cks his door and rushes to roll up his window, leaving it open just a crack to talk.
“Hey,” I say, leaning close to him with my hand on top of his car.
“Look, man. I’m sorry. I don’t want any trouble. You mind backing up so I can get through? I’ll leave peacefully. Just don’t call the cops. I can’t get arrested again.” His voice shakes.
I’m silent.
He’s nervous.
His trembling fingers rub the steering wheel. That’s right, my friend. Get your blood flowing one last time.
“What do you want from me?” he asks.
Staring into his frightened eyes, my fingertips over the top of the window and inside his car, I say, “You owe my wife an apology.”
“Oh, shit,” he laughs. “Your wife? Oh, man, I’m so sorry. I had no fucking idea she was your wife. Yeah, I can do that. Shit.” He shakes his head with a grin. “Just my luck.”
Yeah, just his luck. “Head down that private drive,” I point, “to our garage. I’ll bring her out.”
He nods and turns his feminine, powder blue vehicle around.
I tail him the distance to my garage, opening one of the two doors with my remote. It’s like driving into a cavern - dark and isolated. There’re no rooms or guest windows overlooking this area, nothing, just him, my blade, and me. I pull behind him while he parks in front of the opened door and gets out of his car.
“Dude. I’m sorry, man,” he says, walking up to me as I step out of my truck. “I thought she was just gonna be some easy drunken lay. One, two, fuck her and toss her.”
My fist strikes his jaw, taking him down in one swing.
“No,” he groans, rising slowly, rolling to his knees then swaying to his feet. He holds his jaw and places his hand in the air for me to stop. “Look, I deserved that, but shit, it’s just pussy.”
I smirk. “I’ll roll you and I’ll fold you in a big foldy roll.”
“What the fuck, man. Is there something wrong with you?”
“I’m a troll,” I whisper, taking the blade in my hand.
“A what? A troll? What the fuck does that mean?”
“And I’ll eat you up for supper,” I sing, rushing the blade into his gut in one swift thrust.
“Uh!”