None More Black

by Williams, Brett

  “Damn it,” Gary muttered.

  Lately he'd been busy at work applying late-night software patches and weekend hardware upgrades, and so he hadn't had much time to delve into this personal project of his, outside of writing a few shell scripts to do the work for him. And now, with some available personal time on a Thursday night, he'd decided to see what his traps had turned up.

  They'd turned up squat.

  I'm not giving up, he thought. If anything, this is a greater challenge.

  But what to do next?

  He went to the refrigerator for a can of Code Red Mountain Dew while he thought about it.

  He was slurping from the can when the smart phone in his pocket, vibrating, played a distinctively different notification than usual. Had he accidentally changed his ringtone while navigating the option menu earlier? Gary pulled the phone to find out.

  “Son of a bitch,” he said.

  Someone – the first someone ever, actually – had sent him a message using the dating app he'd installed. Someone whom he'd never messaged before. The message simply read Hi. He accessed the woman's profile to learn more.

  Nickname:GothGrrl96

  Age:20

  Location:Golden, CO

  Profession:Retail bitch

  Height:5'2”

  Education:High school

  Children:None/Undecided

  Body type:A Few Extra Pounds

  Personality:Loner

  Sign:Leo

  Religion:Other

  Marital Status:Single

  Hair color:Black

  Name:Becky

  The profile, along with other information that didn't necessarily interest Gary, stated Becky liked to read horror and urban fantasy novels, and enjoyed horror films. She had several tattoos and a few piercings, of which her profile pics (four total) displayed no tattoos and four piercings: two in one ear, one in another, and the fourth was a hoop through a nostril.

  Gary replied with a Hey and a What's up? and I like to read, too. Then he decided to add I'm into gaming, computers, technology, gadgets. He followed up the response with How deep are you into goth? I ask because you won't believe what I have access to. Hope to hear from you soon. -Gary

  P.S. You're cute, in a Mistress of Death sort of way.

  Message sent!

  Oh, god, Gary thought. I shouldn't have mentioned computers, goth stuff, or Mistress of Death. I'll never hear from her again.

  Slurping Code Red he slid behind the keyboard once again. He had an idea what to try next. He'd access the pics and vid directories and check the timestamps for recent file uploads, to confirm recent activity on the other end of the ether. There were several and he opened a few at random. These were different. They featured a young woman who appeared legal and several years older than other girls in pics he'd viewed (primarily files sent by FreddyFingers), despite her juvenile attire. The pics displayed a thirty-something year-old man enjoying her in the same girlish bedroom as a few of the other pics he'd seen. Except, of course, for the participants. Most of the other pics had featured very young or teen-aged girls who appeared drugged or beaten. This girl, however, seemed thrilled at the prospect of being an object of sex for the man who appeared old enough to be her father.

  Gary's phone alerted him, via vibration and audible notification, of a received message. A reply from Becky, a.k.a. GothGrrl96. Gary, finding the shocks of blue and purple hair enticing on the legal-aged platinum blonde, saved the pics to disk, closed those windows, and opened the reply from Becky on his phone.

  They were deep into text message conversation by the time he'd finished his Mountain Dew.

  21

  Brant sensed movement behind him and turned.

  “Katie, is that you?”

  No reply.

  He rose from the office chair at his desk in the sun room and went in search of her. She'd been playing industrial music in the great room and he expected to find her there, but didn't. He did, however, spot Brainy Witch pouring herself a drink at the wet bar. A double-chocolate chip cookie awaited her on a cocktail napkin.

  “Hi, Brainy. Is Katie around?”

  “I saw her toting a basket of laundry a moment ago.”

  “Laundry is Jenna's job,” Brant mused.

  Brainy shrugged, sipped from a wine glass.

  “Red wine and cookies?”

  Brainy flashed a grin.

  “Those spells you recommended,” Brant continued, “dark stuff. Very dark stuff.”

  Brainy grinned wider. “You have cookies.”

  “Indeed we do. Guess I should remind Katie to keep them stocked.”

  “Good idea, Mr. Wilson. This is the last one.”

  “What's this 'Mr. Wilson' business? Feel free to call me Brant.”

  “I like 'Mr. Wilson', though I suppose I could meet you halfway at Mr. B.”

  “It's only fair I have a nickname, too. Right?”

  “Exactly, Mr. B.”

  “By the way, I emailed you about some research I need, and—”

  “Got it. I'm on it.” She nudged her glasses higher.

  “You know,” Brant said, “you're not just brains. You're thin, cute, and always wear black, just like your goth friend, except, perhaps, without as much eye makeup. Any of the nicknames could easily have applied to you, except, of course, Fat Witch.”

  “Thank you, Mr. B. I prefer Brainy.”

  “I'm sure you do.” Brant started to head away but stopped to stay, “If you drink much wine, don't drive, okay?”

  “I brought an overnight bag. It's in the sub-basement.”

  “Downstairs? There are much nicer rooms available.”

  “It's okay. I like it there. Very quiet. No mirrors. I brought Post-It notes and candles and... May I bring Poder del Coven downstairs with me?”

  “Sure. Just email Katie and cc: myself. And let us know once it's been returned.”

  “Thank you, Mr. B. I'll also include information about a few spells I'd like to try.”

  “Okay, Brainy.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. B.”

  Brant didn't find Katie in the laundry room and she wasn't in the executive suite; it was prepared for its next guest, the mirror over the dresser brightly shined.

  “Hm...”

  The guest room was similarly prepared. Brant found the door to Jenna's room closed. He knocked as he said, “Jenna, may I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  Jenna stood before the dresser, twitching her nose. Brant's eyes cut to the mirror, thin metal cylinder, and razor blade resting on the dresser. Smudged powder faintly clouded parts of its surface.

  “Where's Jenna?”

  “How should I know?”

  “She's doing laundry. That's your job.”

  Jenna shrugged. “Katie said she'd do it.”

  “I don't care what Katie said. I say housekeeping is your job, not hers. It's her job to assist me, not you.”

  Before Jenna could respond, the doorbell chimed.

  “Okay, okay,” she said as she left the room to answer the door.

  Brant, assuming one of Brainy's friends had come to join her, went to the master bedroom suite to find Katie arranging pillows on a recently made bed.

  “Hi, Daddy. Wanna play?”

  “Not right now, I'm too busy. I've been looking for you.”

  “Looking for me? My phone's always with me, I'm just a text message away, silly.”

  “I know, I know. Guess I wanted to stretch my legs. But that's beside the point. I'm busy and by default that keeps you busy. You work hard and I'm proud of you.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.” Katie gave him a tight hug and kiss.

  “What I'm trying to say is you deserve downtime when you can get it. I know you help around the house on days when Jenna works at Java Joe's, but it's bullshit to do her work when she's here, snorting coke up her nose.”

  “I don't mind.”

  “But I do mind. I want it to stop.”

  “Okay, I—”

 
From downstairs came a scream. A scream of bloody murder. Brant sensed a rush of energy leave the room and followed it down the stairs, with Katie hot on his heels, to find a big black guy throttling Jenna in the foyer, just inside the front door which stood ajar.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Brant demanded.

  “Stay outta this, man,” the guy said. “This don't concern you.”

  “The hell it doesn't. This is my house. What the fuck?”

  “Bitch owes us money. Bitch lives in a fine-ass house like this oughta cough it up. Bitch says she's just the maid or some shit.”

  “Money for the shit she snorts?” Brant knew it was. “How much money?”

  “Six hunnerd. Been stretchin' us for weeks. Whoa, whoa, motherfucker.”

  “Chill. Just reaching for my wallet. Not sure I have that much on me but I'll be close.”

  “I have fifty upstairs, Daddy.”

  “Don't try nothin' stupid.” The guy spun Jenna around as a pistol appeared in his hand.

  “We're not going to try anything,” Brant assured him. “Go get your money, sweetie.”

  Brant glanced in his wallet and confirmed between the two of them they'd have enough for the man to chill.

  Brant said, “I want you to cut her off. No more cocaine, no more nothing.”

  “Yo, I can't authorize that. Habits die hard and bidness be bidness. Know what I'm sayin'?”

  “Yeah, man, I know what you're saying. Now here's what I'm saying. You're cutting her off now, but not losing any sales. You're gaining sales, so long as you work with me. You and I, we're making an executive decision here. Whatever Jenna's been buying, you're going to increase it twenty-five percent. It will be delivered to me and me only, cash on delivery, plus a small but fair convenience fee.”

  “I don't know, man.”

  “It's going to happen and I'll tell you why it's going to happen. Because I have a big party coming up, with more parties on the way, and I need a man like your boss who can hook me up. Know what I'm sayin', man?”

  “Yeah, I feel you.”

  Katie appeared at the top of the stairs holding a wad of cash. “Fifty-three dollars, Daddy.”

  Brant handed the guy his money. “Now let her go.”

  The man said, “Pleasure doin' bidness with ya,” as he left.

  “Wow,” Katie said, “that was crazy.”

  “Crazy stupid,” Brant said. “What were you thinking?”

  “I just got a little strapped,” Jenna said. “Everyone does sometimes.”

  “Not in my house they don't.”

  “It's not like I have a sweet job like Katie. I make shit at the coffeehouse.”

  “You live here rent-free, with all your meals paid for.”

  “So? Lately we're running a fricking hotel here. That's not payment enough for this shit.”

  “Luckily for you, you just got a raise.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “No, but you soon will.”

  Brant, sitting behind his desk in the library, alternated between responding to email and reviewing research Brainy had done for him. She wasn't here tonight – something about a big test tomorrow – however Skinny Witch and Fat Witch were looking things up for her. Goth Witch, who seemed to have more of a grasp on things than the others, supervised the effort in Brainy's absence. Brant hadn't seen Sassy Witch since that first weekend.

  A warm, ominous oppression filled the atmosphere which couldn’t be attributed to the small fire in the fireplace. The wiccans insisted on burning candles during their visits, though, and so Katie kept plenty of candles on hand. Brainy had emailed a list of items she wanted Katie to buy for spells they planned to perform. Brant emailed Brainy to ask which would be more convenient for her, to have Katie drive downtown to purchase the items for her. Or if a petty cash fund would work better, that way Brainy could get what she needed, since she better understood her specific needs. He suggested Katie accompany her to Ye Olde Magick Shoppe for an initial purchase of inventory sometime this weekend. That way they could use a business credit card. Subsequent trips could be handled differently. An area in the basement would be set up for everything.

  He was typing an email to Joey, giving him the go-ahead to order computer hardware since they'd settled on the location of the Austin site. Leasing the site had been a no-brainer when, during the tour, the real estate agent had, as matter of full disclosure, informed Brant and his team of the murders that had taken place there. A disgruntled software developer whose shares of stock purchased during the company's IPO had tanked immediately preceding his termination when another, larger technology company swallowed up the firm. Apparently the guy, a red-blooded Texan with a hot temper, showed up the same afternoon a with a semi-automatic weapon, an itchy trigger finger, and a hankering for the blood of the consulting team whose recommendations, in the disgruntled employee's opinion, had led to the downfall of the company. Their blood still stained the walls and floor on the first floor.

  A hand gently touched Brant's shoulder.

  “Daddy,” Katie said in a soft voice, “Jenna's not doing so well. She's shaking and clammy. We need to do something.”

  Jenna was experiencing withdrawal from cocaine

  She'd learned the hard way she'd been cut off from her dealer

  She knew, from Katie, that her dealer had delivered the drug to Brant

  She'd sent Katie down to convince Brant to provide her with a fix

  “I'll be upstairs shortly, sweetie.”

  “Sorry to bother you. Need anything?”

  “I'm fine. Wait upstairs. We'll play.”

  Brant finished the email to Joey, inquiring to confirm that he planned to stay at a hotel with the guys he'd hired for his team when the hardware arrived. He also sent a quick message to Tara, inquiring about her ongoing interviews.

  Before leaving the library he took Goth Witch aside for an update.

  “We're finishing research for Lisa, but it's looking good, very good, for what she you wanted.”

  “Great. Do you need anything from me before I go upstairs?”

  “Actually, yeah.” Goth Witch cut her eyes at the other two girls whose noses were buried in books across the room at a table. “I want to work for you, too. Like Lisa.”

  “She told you?”

  “I figured it out. She had a wad of money, said she stopped tutoring, she comes here all the time. Am I mistaken?”

  “No, you aren't mistaken.”

  “So? Can I work for you too, same deal as Lisa?”

  “You don't know what deal I have with Lisa.”

  “Good point. I could ask her.”

  “Don't. Because I'll tell you right now, you aren't getting the same deal as Lisa. At least not from the get-go. She's been here more than the rest of you, and she can read various languages fairly well and I suspect she's a speed reader. But I do like your gumption and powers of deduction. I'll offer you $150 a week cash to start. We'll see how it goes.”

  Goth Witch did the mental math. “Okay, deal.”

  “We'll settle up this weekend. Now I must be going.”

  Brant, ready for downtime after a long day, poured himself a drink and went upstairs to his bedroom. Katie, panties off and legs spread, played with a toy while on the flat screen TV mounted to the wall two well-endowed men were manhandling a young woman. Movement darting into the bathroom caught Brant’s peripheral vision.

  “Is Jenna in here?”

  “No, Daddy. Come play with me.” She tweaked a nipple.

  “In a minute, sweetie.”

  “I want your cock. Li'l girls need attention.”

  He approached his daughter, kissed her lips while briefly massaging a breast.

  “You'll have my undivided attention in just a few minutes.”

  “Goody.”

  He went to the safe he'd had installed behind a mirror on the wall and, after spinning the dial to the correct combination, opened the safe and removed what he wanted. A very small amount of coca
ine. He'd separated the drug earlier, into bagged dosages roughly equaling what he'd witnessed Jenna do in the past. The first dosage, though, was significantly less. He went to Jenna's door and rapped knuckles against it.

  The door opened quickly. Katie was right, Jenna didn't look well. Clammy and shaking, indeed.

  “Do you have it?” she asked. “I need it – I'll do anything. Just tell me.” Attempting a seductive look, she reached for Brant's crotch.

  “No,” he said.

  “Then what?”

  “Pretty please, with sugar on top, Mr. Wilson,” Brant suggested, “I'll do whatever you want.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. Pretty please with motherfucking sugar on top, just tell me what to do.”

  “That'll do.” He handed her the baggy and pulled his cell phone. As she did her drug, chopping it on the mirror first, where Brant for a moment thought he caught a reflection of a third person in the room, dialed Alex Lancaster's cell phone.

  Brant glanced around the room but saw no one else; Alex, his security officer, answered on the third ring.

  “Alex, how it going?”

  “Fine. The security system's been installed and it tests fine.”

  “Good to hear. You're staying in the suite at my place?”

  “Yeah. After a year behind bars its plenty nice for me.”

  “I bet. Speaking of life behind bars, I bet you could use a little companionship.”

  “Who couldn't?”

  “In that case, I’ll have a surprise waiting for you.”

  “Great. I'll be there in about thirty minutes.”

  Brant ended the call.

  “I need more,” Jenna said. “That's not nearly enough.”

  “Should be enough to stop your shakes. Clean yourself up, put on something cute, and wait for Alex Lancaster down in the executive suite. Be a good girl and show him a good time. Then I'll hook you up again. It's time you start earning your keep.”