by Ana Medeiros
“What are your expectations? Is it just sex?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“I know you’ve never been able to just fuck one woman for long. You crave diversity, I get it. Most people do. But you also have two young children who depend on you. You have to think how your actions might affect them.”
“I’m not happy,” Peter revealed, shoulders slouched.
There was fierceness in Julian’s eyes. “I don’t care. Seth and Eli have to come first.”
“Man, who are you?” Peter asked, with a mix of disbelief and anger. “You’ve avoided the boys since the day they were born. It’s like you’re afraid of them or something. They’re my kids. I know what’s best for them.”
The bright florescent lighting, mixed with the smell of fried onions and greasy bacon, was making Julian nauseous but he fought the urge to get up and go outside for fresh air. “I just want them to have the father, the family I never had. That’s all Pete,” he finally said.
“I know. Listen, I’m just having a bit of fun on the side. Nothing to be worried about, okay? My family is completely separated from it.”
“Are you planning to leave them?”
“Grace and the boys? Don’t be fucking crazy, of course not.”
“If Grace finds out you’re sleeping with another woman she’ll leave you. She was devastated the first time around. Don’t make her go through that again.”
“She won’t find out. I’m being very careful.”
“Everyone says that.”
Crumpling up the napkin he had been holding tightly in his hand, Peter threw it on top of his leftover fries. “I have to get home. Grace is working and the babysitter can’t stay late,” he said, buttoning up his jacket. “I’ll call you about tennis.”
As he got up, Julian saw him reach for his wallet. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on me. Just get home to the boys.”
Peter left angry and Julian remained seated, staring into the blank wall. Eventually the waitress came over with the bill and told him they were closing for the day. Julian glanced at his watch and realized he had been sitting there, by himself, for almost an hour.
Chapter 6
“What do we have here?” Pam asked, entering the bedroom. There were no windows in the basement apartment and because none of the light fixtures worked, they had to bring in extra lights to be able to see. Pam didn’t need to take off her jacket to know there was no heat either.
“The same fucking thing we always have,” said the young detective sipping coffee in the corner. “A dead body.” He raised his head to see past Pam. “Can someone tell the landlord to turn on the damn heat? We’re fucking freezing down here.”
“Forensics won’t let us. Something about unwanted fluctuation or some shit,” someone shouted back from the other room.
“Assholes.”
Pam got closer to the bed, her attention on what was in front of her. “Don’t be a pussy, it’s not that cold.”
“Says you who just waltzed in. I’ve been in this meat locker for over an hour.”
“That’s ’cause I have more to do than just stand around holding a spiked cup of joe.”
“Hey—”
“I don’t give a shit, Colton,” Pam said, interrupting him. “Just stop whining.”
She looked down at the naked woman on the bed. She was pretty but there was nothing memorable about her. The harsh glare from the lights made the floral sheets look faded, like they had been left in the sun for too long, and if she were to touch them, she knew how they would feel—threadbare and delicate.
“Who found her?” Pam asked.
“The landlord. She was late paying rent so he shut off the power and the heat. When that didn’t work, he came down to kick her out. The door was unlocked.”
“She hasn’t been dead long. Less than twenty-four hours.”
“Who knows? The cold might have kept her fresh.”
Pam glanced at him and the expression on her face made him put his hand up in the air. “Just saying.”
She crouched by the bed and brought her face closer to the woman’s. She put on a pair of gloves and lifted the woman’s hair from her body, revealing her breasts. Pam noticed the series of faint cuts below one of her nipples. The cuts weren’t deep and they had already started to scab. Were she still alive, they would have completely healed in a couple of weeks, leaving no scars.
“Why are we wasting our time here?” Colton asked. “This ain’t no homicide.” Pam continued to ignore him. “Fuck, Sung, I’m telling you, no hand but her own had anything to do with this chick’s death.”
An officer peeked into the bedroom, carrying a messenger bag. “Is this yours?” he asked Pam.
The ringing sound coming from inside of it made her glance at her watch. It was probably Meredith, wondering where she was. They were supposed to meet thirty-minutes ago. “Colton, can you pass me my bag?” She was removing the woman’s hair further away from her neck when the messenger bag landed by her feet and some of the folders inside of it spilled into the floor. “What the hell is your problem?” she asked, angry.
“You asked me to pass it at you.”
She reached for the folders and put them back in her bag. If she hadn’t been working she would have punched him in the face. He was just the type of detective she despised, incompetent and arrogant. Pam was about to stand up when she stopped herself. “Colton, come here.”
“Why?”
“I need you to come here.”
He walked around the bed and stood not far from her.
“Closer.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Just do it.”
Cursing under his breath, he kneeled on the carpeted floor beside Pam. He still held his coffee cup.
“Get closer to her,” Pam said, looking at the woman on the bed.
He opened his mouth, ready to say no, but after some hesitation he did as Pam asked. “What do you smell?”
“A corpse?” he answered, scowling.
“Don’t be a smartass. You’re no good at it. What do you smell?”
He tilted his head toward the woman. “Fabric softener?” He turned to Pam. “I don’t know, she smells nice. It’s her hair so maybe it’s her shampoo.”
Pam got up and, removing her gloves, reached for her bag. “I’m out of here. I want the preliminary report on my desk by end of day tomorrow. And have the coroner call me with the cause of death.”
“Why’d you want me to smell her?” he asked, watching her leave.
“I didn’t want you to smell her, Colton. I wanted you on your knees.”
Pam called Meredith back. She was upset that Pam was so late, so Pam offered to pick up some food on her way to Meredith’s place.
She was certain her stepdaughter wouldn’t be happy to hear what she had to say about Julian Reeve. For weeks now Pam had been trying to tell her to distance herself from Reeve, but headstrong and rebellious, Meredith was ignoring her.
“You look distracted,” Meredith said, watching Pam across the small kitchen table. They were done eating and now all that was left from their meal were the bottles of cold beer in their hands.
“Just work. I wish I could take a break from it all.”
“You love your job way too much to do that.”
“Only crazy people love their jobs.” Pam drank her beer. “Your job will never love you back.”
“I’m so glad that I’m past the age of having to bring you to school on Career Day.”
“Me too.”
Pam’s phone was on the table and started to ring. Both she and Meredith looked at it. “Who do you have saved on your phone as a Christmas tree?” Meredith asked. “You hate Christmas.”
Reaching for her phone, Pam stood up. “Work. I’ll be right back.”
Meredith watched her make her way into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. Pam had always made her career a priority and that’s why Meredith had shared with Pam her reason for wanting information on Jul
ian. Her investigative piece on The Raven Room was the type of journalism that would open doors for her. She wanted to succeed on her own merit, not because her father had made a call to his powerful friends. She figured Pam would respect that. But Pam had been leaving her voicemails and sending her texts, telling her to distance herself from Julian. She didn’t know why, but wasn’t naïve—something that Pam had uncovered must have concerned her; that was the reason Pam had asked to come over.
Her apartment had finally reached a painful level of cold. Meredith went to turn up the thermostat, and as she stood outside her bedroom door, she leaned in to listen to Pam.
“It’s him. He killed her.”
There was a pause and Meredith moved closer.
“I’m sure. I just came from there. She matches the profile,” Pam said to the person she was on the phone with. “No, not yet, but I bet any money the coroner’s report will come back confirming what everyone, besides you and I, thinks is the cause of death.”
Meredith couldn’t hear what she said next.
“Listen,” Pam added, speaking louder, “I got to go. We can talk tomorrow.”
As soon as Meredith heard her say that, she tiptoed back into the kitchen. When she was younger, Pam would often catch her eavesdropping and she would become furious.
“You look pissed,” Meredith said from her chair, glad Pam hadn’t caught her.
“It has been a long day. Before I got here I was at a crime scene with my new partner, Colton. I hate that I need to deal with idiots like him. He just wants to live long enough to get to enjoy his pension. He said the smell on the woman’s hair was shampoo, for Christ’s sake,” Pam continued, lost in thought.
Meredith decided it was better to remain silent.
“He acts like an asshole because I’m a woman. A non-white woman with more seniority than him, nonetheless.”
Colton might not like having a woman telling him what to do but Meredith could only imagine how hard it must be for anyone to work with Pam.
“Speaking about men…you know why I’m here, don’t you?” Pam asked.
“If it’s about me and Julian, you’re wasting your time.”
“You asked me to dig into his past. He’s not the type of man you want to be with.”
“Why? You haven’t given me any good reason. What did you dig up on him?”
“You’re using him to benefit your career but it’s not worth it, Meredith, believe me. Sleeping with a rich, older man is not the way to go.”
“You’d know.”
As soon as she spoke she saw she had hit a nerve. Meredith knew Pam and her father cared for each other, but if to shut her up she had to say what others thought, she would do so without remorse.
Pam fumbled with the contents of her messenger bag. “Fucking Colton! Because of him all of my things ended up all over the crime scene.” Eventually she passed Meredith a manila folder. “Here’s what I found on Julian Reeve. I hope that once you read it, you’ll understand why I want you to stay far away from him.”
Pam left and Meredith remained seated, holding the folder in her hands. She opened it, flipping through the stack of documents. They didn’t include any information on his life prior to being adopted and all they revealed was that at sixteen years of age, Julian had been a juvenile offender and a drug addict.
She closed the folder and rested her chin on her hand. That’s when she noticed it. It wasn’t her imagination; the scent was on her hands. Reaching for the folder she brought it close to her face. Meredith took a deep breath and images of blood red walls, amber lighting and naked bodies flooded her mind.
Chapter 7
Julian was the only one clothed. The walls, the ceiling, the floor—all were black. The scarce, tear-shaped light fixtures bathed the darkness with the hue of rubies and made the bodies around him glow, like they were burning from the inside out. It was warm and sweat pooled on his lower back.
The ice cubes inside his whiskey glass were long gone, making the drink taste less than perfect, but he didn’t care. He was happy to be drinking something. From the corner of his eye Julian saw a man approach and sit beside him. The man was clad in a three-piece suit and like Julian, the man must have felt as if he were on fire. But as he had just lit a Gurkha Black Dragon cigar, Julian wasn’t surprised that the man’s poise wasn’t giving anything away. Julian reasoned that people who casually sat back while burning over a thousand dollars in tobacco were unlikely to give others a glimpse of their discomfort.
“Was not expecting to see you up here,” the man said.
“Needed a change of scenery.”
“Don't we all?”
Julian remained silent. He had seen the man before but he didn’t know his name. Various desires motivated people to frequent The Raven Room but once there, sexual gratification was the only reason to stay. That made all of them unenthusiastic to discuss their lives outside of the club. Even when they shared their names, it was usually an alias.
“The first time I came to the club was with my wife,” the man continued, holding his cigar between his fingers. “We were regulars and there isn’t much we didn't do.” His gaze was lost in the smoke dancing in front of him. “When she passed away I was here every week. It made me feel closer to her.”
“Is that why you came upstairs? To be closer to her?”
“Yes. Only after she died did I make my way down. I changed. You?”
“I’m looking for someone but it doesn't look like tonight is my night.” The cloud of smoke reached Julian’s face and he breathed it in. The rich tobacco notes, mixed with a hint of coffee, relaxed him.
The only reason Julian was sitting up there was because he had been looking for the woman. He couldn't stop thinking about her and he wanted to see her again. If he did, Julian wasn’t sure he would speak to her or, if he went as far as approaching her, what he would say.
“Is she one of your girls?” the man asked with a knowing smile.
“She’s not.”
“Not yet,” the man added.
His words made Julian gulp almost all of his whiskey.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to look so uncomfortable,” the man said, amused. “Down there people talk. There’s no way we can keep our predilections a secret.”
Julian didn’t reply and the man turned his attention to what was happening around them.
“I always get a kick when I sit here and I watch.” The man said with a chuckle. “They call themselves hedonistic; they believe they’re so debauched merely because they come to a sex club. If they knew people like you and I were right here, among them, they would be appalled, wouldn’t they?”
“We are no different from them,” Julian replied, watching two women who were kissing.
“How can you say that when you’re sitting here, surrounded by people fucking, bored out of your mind?”
Julian saw the man summon a woman who had been lying on the floor, between two men who were more interested in each other than her. She crawled across the black hardwood floor and came to rest her hands on the man’s knees with a large smile on her face. Julian glanced at her and he noticed her dilated pupils.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” the man asked, caressing the woman’s long hair. “Imagine what we could do with her, you and I, together.”
“She’s high.”
“So?”
Julian reached toward the woman and touched a lock of her dark hair. He stared at the thick strands, rubbing them between his fingers. Not long after, he shook his head as he let go of her hair.
“Because she’s high?” the man asked.
Julian didn’t reply and he took Julian’s silence as a yes. The man burst out in a howl of laughter that made his whole frame shake. His eyes became moist with tears from laughing so hard. “But that’s half of the fun.”
The two men faced each other. He was older than Julian by more than a decade and, for a brief instant, Julian believed he was staring at his future self.
Julian st
ood up and walked out of the room. As he made his way down the hall, the vivid color of the flower arrangements made him want to stop and touch them. They stood, fragile and doomed, amongst people intoxicated with lust. Julian passed a small group who was drinking champagne and singing happy birthday to a woman who was surrounded by men only wearing large bows over their crotches. Had Julian been in a good mood he would have laughed. He entered one of the bathrooms, turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face. He was drenched in sweat. The thought of using the large communal showers on the other end of the club crossed his mind but he needed to leave. He had been coming to the club every week since seeing the woman and even though it was still early, he couldn’t spend the next four hours wandering its rooms and halls. He would be tormenting himself.
Reaching for a clean towel, Julian dried his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked old and tired. It was his belief that he only had three things going for him: his build, a head full of hair, and a large cock. At the rate he was aging, though, he wouldn’t be surprised if soon his body started to let him down and, with that, came the inability to be a good fuck. Then, his large cock would be of no use to him and he would have even less to offer.
Julian exited the bathroom and walked down the stairs. The club was filling up, cheerful voices and laughter could be heard above the full notes of the background music. Some nights the whole place would turn into one large orgy. Sighs, screams, the sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh—combined with copious amounts of alcohol, tobacco, and drugs—would incite a prolonged state of widespread euphoria. He looked around at the growing crowd and, to Julian, they were like a bunch of eager children waiting for the gates of an amusement park to open for the day. The restlessness in the air told him tonight would be one of those nights.
Among the crowd, Julian spotted the man with whom the mysterious woman had been. They locked eyes. Maybe they had passed each other before but until seeing him with the woman, Julian had never noticed him. At The Raven Room, a person’s body was more important than his face. After a moment, the man returned his attention to the people he was with. Julian stood, searching for her one last time. She wasn’t there.