Betrayal

by Dwayne S. Joseph

  He gave the bartender a smile. She reciprocated, revealing deep dimples. Zeke took a look down at her ring finger, saw that it was naked, and thought about coming back after the dust settled. He said, “Bring me two more, please.”

  The bartender showed her deep dimples again, and said, “No problem.”

  “Bad day?”

  Zeke looked to his right. Two stools down, an attractive brunette, her hair pinned up, was looking in his direction. Zeke stared at her. She was casually sexy in a red sweater that slouched at the neck and hugged a slender torso, accentuating a pair of full breasts, and a pair of dark blue jeans that fit like a second layer of skin. Black stilettos on her feet set her look off.

  Zeke nodded. “Frustrating day.”

  The brunette smiled. “Those are worse than bad days.”

  “How so?”

  “A bad day is just bad. It can’t really be fixed. You just suffer through it and wait for the next day to come. When a day’s frustrating, it means there are opportunities to set things right, but for whatever reason, something goes wrong to keep that from happening. Frustrating is peaks and valleys. You fall downhill and then climb back up a few feet, before you fall again. Bad is just falling down the hill until you mercifully hit the bottom and break your crown.”

  Zeke raised an eyebrow. “I never looked at it that way. I just always thought they were one and the same.”

  “Most people don’t.”

  Zeke nodded again and then looked the brunette up and down. She was Kate Hudson attractive, but with the three Jack and Cokes in his system, each one stronger than the next, she was looking more like Scarlett Johansson. The bartender brought his two additional glasses. He asked, “Drinking alone?”

  “I am. Are you?”

  “If you slide down one stool then no, I’m not.”

  The brunette smiled seductively, then got up and moved down.

  Zeke offered his hand. “Zeke.”

  The brunette took it. “Leah.”

  “Nice to meet you, Leah.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Zeke.”

  “Hadn’t noticed you over there. Thought I was alone.”

  “I came fifteen minutes after you. You were deep in thought. The building could have been on fire and I don’t think you would have noticed.”

  Zeke shrugged. “Very frustrating day,” he said.

  “Hope it’s getting better.”

  “It is.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Zeke smiled. “So what are you drinking?”

  “Sex on the beach.”

  “Beach is closed isn’t it?”

  “You can still have sex, though.”

  Zeke laughed.

  Leah did too.

  The sexual energy was high.

  Zeke ordered Leah’s drink.

  “So why are you here, Zeke?” Leah asked.

  “Business. And you?”

  “Visiting a friend.”

  “And where is your friend now?”

  “Working. He’s a doctor. Got called in to surgery. He’ll be there until tomorrow.”

  Zeke nodded, swallowed one of the drinks and picked up the other. As he did, his cell phone vibrated. He looked down at it.

  Sapphire.

  Still.

  He clenched his jaws.

  “Bad call?” Leah asked.

  “Very bad call.”

  Rita Moreno’s lookalike brought Leah’s drink. Leah thanked her, took a sip, then said, “Wife?”

  Zeke passed his thumb over his wedding band. He wanted to take it off, but he had to be patient. He said, “Wife.”

  “Turning your frustrating day into a bad one?”

  “Very much so.”

  His phone vibrated again.

  Sapphire.

  Again.

  He put his phone on silent and slid it into his pocket.

  “Seems like you could really use a stress relief,” Leah said easily.

  Zeke chuckled. “A neck and back massage.”

  “What about the rest of you?”

  Zeke looked at Leah. She was staring back at him, her eyes lustful. She licked her lips.

  Zeke said, “That, too.”

  “I give one hell of a fabulous full-body massage.”

  Zeke closed his eyes a bit. “Free of charge?”

  “I’m not a prostitute if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Was wondering.”

  “You’re an attractive man, Zeke.”

  “You’re very sexy, Leah.”

  “My friend is attractive, too, but he’s not here.”

  “His loss.”

  “We’re adults, are we not, Zeke?”

  Zeke gave her a nod. “We are.”

  “I’m not looking for anything.”

  “Neither am I.”

  “But sex on the beach would be nice.”

  “Too cold for the beach.”

  “Your room would do.”

  Zeke stared at her, the alcohol and Sapphire’s constant calling making him warm inside. He pulled out his wallet, placed three twenties on the bar counter, stood up and held out his hand for Leah to take.

  Ten minutes later, Leah was straddled on top of Zeke. Her back was facing him, the way Sapphire’s back had been facing her headless lover.

  Zeke thrust upward, the way the headless man had.

  Leah moaned, pushed down, and ground her hips.

  Zeke imagined her biting down on her lip. Like Sapphire. He said, “Grab your breasts. Squeeze your nipples. Lick them.”

  Leah let out a soft moan. “Let me turn around so you can see.”

  “No. Stay just the way you are.”

  He didn’t need to see.

  “I have pictures.”

  “Pictures?”

  “In my mind. I can see. Just do it.”

  Zeke drove himself deep.

  Leah moaned and did as she’d been ordered.

  Zeke watched her, seeing not her, but his wife. Sucking on her breasts, running her tongue around her erect nipple.

  Leah’s arm became Sapphire’s. Her white skin changed to a dark honey hue. Her brown hair became black.

  Zeke’s upper body morphed. Became younger, hairless, more sculpted.

  He was a voyeur, watching the scene unfold.

  Hearing it happen.

  Smelling the sweaty odor of sex.

  Sapphire pushed down, took her lover in as deeply as she could. She cursed, called out her lover’s name. Told him not to stop. To give it to her. To release his stress.

  Zeke’s heart thudded as the sex took place.

  He wanted to feel his fingers wrap themselves around Sapphire’s neck, fuck and squeeze at the same time.

  He watched. Ground his teeth together. Sweated. Struggled to breathe.

  “That’s right,” Sapphire said. “Choke me, baby. Choke me. Give me that dick and squeeze! Oh yes!”

  Zeke watched.

  Felt it.

  Smelled it.

  Sapphire’s body.

  Sapphire’s scent.

  Without a head, the headless man growled. He was nearing the point, about to explode. He thrust his dick deeper, Sapphire’s wetness making bumps rise from his skin.

  With each moment of Sapphire’s betrayal, Zeke’s heart broke more and more. He hated her. He wanted her out of his life. He wanted her to stop calling.

  The headless man’s torso morphed back into his own. Leah stopped impersonating Sapphire. His hands around Leah’s throat, he came. Hard. A tidal wave of semen spilled into his condom.

  Leah leaned her head back and let out a cry as she erupted. When her orgasm passed, she turned her head and looked at Zeke over her shoulder. She smiled, and then without saying anything, climbed off of him, gathered her clothes, and went into the bathroom. She showered and came out a few minutes later, looking as though she’d never left the bar.

  “I know I said I wasn’t looking for anything, but is there any chance of seeing you again?”

  On hi
s back, staring up at the ceiling, Zeke said, “No.”

  Leah nodded, and without saying good-bye, left the room.

  Zeke remained on the bed, unmoving, as his mind relived the sex Sapphire and her lover had had.

  “I hate you,” he said softly. “I hate you.”

  The display on his cell phone lit up suddenly. He’d put it on the night table beside him. He reached over, picked it up, and looked at the screen.

  Sapphire.

  He put down the phone. The alcohol and sex had him tired. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

  He fell asleep hoping that would be the last time she called.

  Chapter 30

  Jewell pulled into her parents’ driveway, cut the engine, opened the car door quickly, doubled over, and dry heaved. She’d been fighting the nausea the whole way. Through her neighborhood and its silent, barely lit homes. On the highway, past broken-down cars in the grass in the median and cars pulled over by state troopers on the right. Past the vast homes with large windows and driveways large enough for Greyhound buses in her parents’ development. She drove, her mouth watering, her stomach queasy. Somehow she managed to make it.

  But now that she had . . .

  Jewell gagged and dry heaved. She’d thrown up whatever food she’d had in her stomach already. Now all she had left was acid and phlegm. She dry heaved again and threw up nothing. She wanted to be in bed so badly, but something in the pit of her stomach, something other than the queasiness, was telling her that something was wrong.

  She wiped her mouth with a napkin from her glove compartment. Ginger ale, bed, and darkness called. She grabbed her cell and called Sam again. She’d tried calling him, but he never answered and that worried her. Again she wondered about what it was that Sam said she had done. What had brought about such tension, anger, anxiety, and fear in his voice and eyes? What had she done that made him run out of the house? Made him ignore her calls?

  What the fuck have you done?

  Sam’s words shook her, rocked her at her core. Something bad was happening, was going to happen, or had happened already.

  Sam’s voice mail picked up. “Sam . . . where are you? Why won’t you pick up? Please call me back and tell me what’s wrong. What did I do? Why did you run out the house like that? Sam . . . please call me back.”

  Jewell snapped her phone shut and slid it in her purse. She walked up to her parents’ front door. Lights were on inside. Someone was home.

  She rang the bell. Seconds went by without an answer. She rang the bell again and waited. Still no answer.

  She grabbed her phone, called the house; nothing but the answering machine. She tried her mother’s cell. When there was no answer, she tried her father’s.

  “Where are you?”

  She peeked through the frosted glass on the side of the door, looking for any movement inside. She rang the bell again and knocked on the door.

  “Mom! Dad!”

  Something was wrong. She went through the keys on her keychain. Her father had given her a spare when they’d moved in. He wanted her to always know that she had somewhere to come home to. She’d never used the key before, never had to.

  She rang the bell, knocked on the door again, and called out for her parents one last time. Same answer as before. She sighed and slid the key into the door.

  Her hand shook and her heart beat heavily as she turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

  She stood at the threshold. “Hello? Mom? Dad?”

  Silence responded.

  She stepped into the marbled foyer, and closed the door behind her.

  “Mom? Dad? Are you here?”

  She walked slowly, softly, her body tense, and went to her father’s study off to the right. She put her hand on the knob, and briefly thought of horror movies and the actors and actresses who always opened doors or went searching in darkness only to meet their untimely and gruesome demises. She’d always said that could never happen to her. That she’d wait for sunlight or for the lights to come on, or she would forego the search altogether.

  But, of course, those were just movies. The actors had scripts to follow. The axes, machetes, butcher knives, pitchforks, and gloved hands with razor-sharp claws were all made of rubber or plastic. The blood they shed was ketchup or syrup. Their screams were rehearsed.

  Jewell took a breath and wished she could forego pushing the door open, and wait for daylight to break, but she couldn’t. She exhaled, opened the door, and pushed it open.

  Darkness met her.

  She walked inside slowly and reached for the light switch on the wall to the right of the door. She flipped the switch and her heart skipped a beat. “Dad?”

  She looked around. Nothing but an empty, mahogany desk, bookshelves lined with books, and an empty leather loveseat with a lamp beside it, greeted her.

  She took another breath, said, “Damn,” and then stepped out of the room.

  She called out for her parents again and continued to search through the lower level of the house, going to the kitchen next. From the kitchen she went to the sunroom, and then the family room, where lights had been left on. She grabbed her cell and made calls to Sam, her father, and mother again. All went unanswered.

  She left no messages, closed her phone, went to the stairs, and ascended cautiously. Not right, she thought. Something isn’t right.

  Upstairs she went through the smaller bedrooms first, checking closets and under spare beds, before going to the master bedroom, only to have the same result. No one was home.

  Jewell sat down on her parents’ bed. Her stomach was twisting in knots again. Had started to when she was in the kitchen. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the ill feeling. When it finally subsided, she opened her cell to call Sam and her parents again, but before she could, she heard a noise coming from downstairs.

  She stood up.

  “Mom?”

  She walked out of the bedroom and went to the stairs. She called out for her mother again. Silence still her only response. She thought about the horror movies again and then descended slowly,wishing for scripted scene.

  When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she saw something that made her pause.

  The front door was open.

  She opened her cell, pressed the numbers 9-1-1, and was about to hit the talk button when someone appeared in the doorway.

  Ty’s other man, G. Dressed in all black. Black ski mask covering his face. Gun in his hand.

  Jewell opened her mouth to scream, but before she could, G squeezed the trigger twice, sending two bullets ripping into Jewell’s abdomen.

  All of the air rushed from Jewell’s lungs as she crumpled to the ground. Face down, she gasped as G hurried past her and ran up the stairs. His instructions were to make it look like a robbery. He went in search of jewelry and whatever other random items he could grab.

  On the ground, Jewell tried to crawl to her cell phone, which lay several feet in front of her. She moved an inch, maybe two, and then lay still. She struggled to catch a breath as tears fell from her eyes. She tried to will herself to move again, but she couldn’t, the pain too great.

  She cried and felt her blood flow and pool beneath her. Her body felt warm from the blood, yet cold at the same time. Everything around her spun as she looked toward her cell phone through blurred vision.

  Move.

  That’s all she had to do.

  Move.

  Reach out.

  Grab it.

  Call Sam.

  He would answer this time.

  Pain seared through her abdomen. Jewell cried. As she did, G came rushing down the stairs. He paused momentarily and looked down at her, and regretted not having his way with her before he’d shot her. She was sexy.

  Damn shame someone wanted her dead. He shrugged, stomped down on her cell phone, shattering it, and then left quickly.

  Jewell watched the soles of his shoes disappear through the door. “S . . . Sa . . . Sam . . .” she struggled.

/>   Her eyes closed.

  Then opened.

  Then closed again.

  She felt light.

  “Sam . . .”

  Pain seared through her belly again. She tried to take a deep breath but couldn’t. She shivered, her blood beneath her no longer keeping her warm.

  “Sam . . .”

  Somewhere in the distance, she heard him call her name. It was far away at first, then closer.

  Her eyes opened again as Sam’s voice grew louder, almost sounding as though he were right beside her.

  “S . . . Sa . . .”

  Her eyes closed again.

  Pain flooded through her body as she was suddenly manhandled like a rag doll.

  “Jewell!”

  It sounded like Sam’s voice.

  “Jewell! Oh God! No! No!”

  Jewell opened her eyes. Her vision blurred, tear-filled and spotted, she looked at her husband.

  “Jewell! Hold on, baby! Hold on!”

  He cradled her and rocked her slowly.

  “S . . . Sam . . .”

  Sam held her tight. Kissed her on her forehead. “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here.”

  Jewell wanted to move. Wanted to reach up and caress his cheek. She couldn’t. She whispered his name again.

  “I’m right here,” Sam said. “I’m right here.”

  Jewell shivered, took another look at her husband and then closed her eyes. As she faded into unconsciousness, she heard Sam on the phone, calling 9-1-1.

  Chapter 31

  “No! No, baby! No!” Sam held Jewell in his arms tightly. He caressed her face. Kissed her forehead. Screamed her name again.

  “No!”

  He rocked her. Touched her cheek again. Her skin was clammy. She was sweating profusely. He kissed her on her forehead again, then her lips.

  Blood.

  There was so much blood.

  Sam wiped tears from his eyes. Touched Jewell’s face again. She was still alive. Barely. But still alive.

  “Where the fuck is the ambulance!”

  He clenched his jaws and pulled Jewell closer to him as though he could somehow keep her essence from sighing away.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he demanded. “Jewell, baby . . . you’re not going anywhere! You’re not leaving me. Do you hear me? You’re not going to leave me!”