Untangling the Black Web

by T. F. Jacobs

  This isn’t good. My mind isn’t processing the situation as fast as it needs to.

  I need an excuse.

  “Senator, okay. I just want to freshen up in the restroom.”

  He studies me. All sense of the jolly and charismatic guy I met at dinner is gone. His mask has slipped—the real senator is a threatening, sick man used to getting what he wants.

  “Okay. Make it quick. I suppose I could freshen up myself.”

  Not good. I scan the room. Was there a second bathroom?

  We both stand, and Rachel leans back into the couch, batting her eyes as she does.

  “I think I’m getting a good sense of what lobbyists do,” she says.

  I ignore her and book it to the restroom.

  I notice the senator making his way across the other side of the living room to another door.

  Thank God.

  I lock the door behind me, then stare into the mirror.

  The man I see is almost unfamiliar.

  My blond hair is slicked to the side, but it’s longer than Lexi liked it. My stubble is fuller. My face is slightly thinner and far redder.

  I breathe in deep, trying to get a grip on what is happening.

  I need to get the hell out of here.

  I reach for my burner phone.

  Dial the number.

  It rings.

  “Come on,” I whisper to myself.

  Another ring.

  A familiar slow and deep voice responds. “The leak was necessary. Stop calling.”

  “Wait,” I snap before they can hang up.

  Silence.

  “I’m in New York with Senator Ford. I need help.”

  A crackling on the other end makes me pull the phone from my ear. “Senator Ford? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I tried. You didn’t answer.”

  The voice pauses. “What do you need?”

  “The senator is in my hotel room. I need an escape.”

  Another crackling on the other end.

  “Why?” it breathes.

  “I think he wants me to have a threesome with him and his intern. I’m a married man, for Christ’s sake.” My words are fast. I glance back at the door to make sure no one is listening in.

  “Were.”

  I don’t understand.

  “What?”

  “You were a married man. You are a widower now.” A pause. My blood boils at the comment. “Has he agreed to American True Care’s proposition?”

  “Yes.”

  Another pause. “You have to do it. And you have to get it on film. If you truly care about your wife, you will do this.”

  “Excuse me?” I snap. “Are you out of your mind? If I filmed it, I would expose myself.”

  “You said you would do whatever you had to do in order to bring American True Care down. If you get a potential vice president threatening you into performing sexual favors in order to get in bed with American True Care, do you have any idea of the impact that would cause?”

  I can’t believe my ears. Is she for real? She wants me to go through with it!

  “No way. My wife just fucking died.”

  “Just close your eyes. Pretend it’s her. You probably need it anyway,” the slow, ciphered voice responds.

  I slam my fist into the counter.

  “Fuck you.”

  “It has to be done.”

  The line goes dead.

  I slam the phone shut and chuck it against the ground.

  I stare into the mirror. My vision spins slightly as I look back at the man who is becoming more unrecognizable by the day.

  I brush my teeth, then wash my face.

  I have to be dreaming. How did I get here?

  I think about what will happen if I tell the senator no. Will I have any chance of getting him to go through with the deal?

  I know the answer, but don’t want to admit it. My recording from dinner won’t do me any good unless he goes through with the bill.

  Otherwise I have nothing.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I think of Lexi. Of the first time we made love, after I turned the corner and found her standing naked in my room. How great it felt.

  We weren’t into kinky stuff. We certainly never had threesomes.

  I’ve never even had casual sex.

  This can’t happen. I’m a married man. I could never do that to Lexi.

  And I sure as hell didn’t bring a condom.

  Lexi had always been on the pill.

  I think about what Brit said. I’m a widower. But what does that mean? Am I just supposed to forget about Lexi? Betray her?

  And what does the senator even have in mind? I know some men are into other men, but I certainly am not one of those people.

  Fuck!

  “David,” the senator calls from the living room.

  I stare into the mirror another few seconds. My intense glare is completely unwelcoming.

  If I leave the hotel room, this deal is done. And I will surely be fired by American True Care. This is the type of thing we’ve been waiting for. Proof that corruption and shady deals happen at the highest levels of government. But if I go through with it, I won’t be able to live with myself for betraying Lexi.

  The line between right and wrong is gone. There is no right—only wrong.

  I take a long, harsh breath, then pull my phone out of my pocket.

  I slide my finger across the screen and turn on the camera. My finger trembles over the record button and then presses hard. It’s go time.

  I open the door.

  The senator gives me a half grin when he sees me. He’s standing in front of the couch, and Rachel is still sitting. She turns her head to look at me. Eyes on mine.

  “Another drink?” I call.

  “Oh yeah.” He’s practically singing with glee.

  He’s lit.

  I pour three more hefty portions of brandy, nearly emptying the bottle.

  I study my options and settle on one. I set my phone between two of the bottles and angle it toward the couch.

  I take one last glance at it to ensure it isn’t noticeable, then turn.

  Here we go.

  I bring the glasses over to the couch. Hand one to the senator, then the other to Rachel.

  “Cheers,” he says.

  We raise our glasses.

  This is it.

  I take a look at the door. My chest hammers. I think of Lexi.

  “Senator, I want to thank you for a fruitful relationship with American True Care.”

  He turns to me before bringing the glass to his lips.

  I continue. This is my shot at getting everything I need in one video. A video that will bring this sick fuck down. “Whether it be today with this bill to bring tax credits to citizens in exchange for insurance—American True Care being one of the options of course—or whether it be into your Vice Presidency and the many deals we will do into the future.”

  My words are coherent, but sloppy.

  I raise my glass again.

  He stares at me for a moment. Surely suspicious because of how straightforward I’m being.

  But the surprised look quickly fades into another grin.

  “My man.” He raises his glass. “Here’s to a very good relationship.”

  We clink glasses, then drink.

  I put it back instantly, letting the stinging burn trickle down my throat. He does too.

  Rachel sets her glass on the table, eyes focused on the congressman.

  My head buzzes, and my vision spins again. The forty percent alcohol content is rushing straight to my brain. Numbing my nerves. My anger.

  I sit back into the couch dizzily.

  The senator sits next to me.

  Everything is hazy.

  “Where were we?” he says. He turns to Rachel and kisses her. Again she kisses him back, and this time, she wraps her hands around his head. Runs her fingers through his hair.

  I look away. Letting my eyes go in and out of focus and my che
st fill with heat.

  After a long minute, he pulls away.

  Sits back and catches his breath.

  Rachel’s eyes are narrow, and now they are focused on me. She runs her tongue slowly along her lips.

  The senator turns to me, eyes beaming. Grabs my hand. Again with forceful strength.

  I can’t pull away even if I wanted to.

  He deliberately lets my fingers brush against his legs, as my hand crosses over him and onto Rachel’s lap again.

  I meet her eyes.

  She slips her hand underneath mine, while the senator’s sits atop it. My head is heavy.

  Then Rachel’s fingers interlock with mine.

  Something stirs inside me.

  The senator sits back between us against the couch, and Rachel moves her head closer. The senator brings his left hand to my back and pulls me toward them.

  I resist, and he pulls harder. Rachel’s face is just a foot away, hovering in front of the senator. Waiting for me.

  He runs his hand up my back toward my neck, then pulls. My head follows, and the next second Rachel’s face is next to mine.

  Her beady eyes are fixed on mine, eyelashes long and dark. Her hot breath is on my face, sending shivers through my body.

  And then it happens.

  Her lips are at mine, and my eyes close. They are warm and full, sending shockwaves along my skin. Her tongue teases at my lips, then pulls away. And suddenly I find myself kissing back. Her hand runs through my hair, and we move closer together. Her lips move fast and hard, clenching to mine. My tongue meets hers, and my breath is taken away. My heart hammers with longing. My body giving way to the feeling.

  And then I picture Lexi.

  I pull back.

  “My turn,” Ford says.

  Rachel turns to face him, and they kiss.

  I stare. World spinning around me. They’re breathing loudly, as one, and they’re getting closer to each other.

  Another image of Lexi. Naked on our honeymoon in Paris. Lying on the bed waiting for me. Running her hands along her body.

  I push it away.

  But she’s fighting to stay.

  I gaze down at the glass on the coffee table, then I down what’s left of Rachel’s brandy.

  Another wave of heat soars through my body. The numbness envelops me whole.

  I turn back to the camera to make sure it’s still there, then look back at the duo in front of me. Their hands sliding along each other’s bodies. The senator at her neck as her head lifts in pleasure.

  Rachel’s eyes open and notice me. She moves her neck slightly, causing the senator to look up.

  He smiles.

  Then he loosens his tie and rips it off.

  Unbuttons his shirt.

  Peels it off, revealing a chiseled body. Six pack and all.

  He reaches for my tie. Pulls me in close.

  My head spins, the alcohol blurring everything.

  He rips my tie off, then unbuttons my white button-down.

  Slides it off my shoulders.

  I look down at my stomach. At my abs. The muscular definition I had before Lexi’s death now fading. Rachel watches as she lies back against the couch, biting her lip.

  The senator runs his hand along my stomach, eyes focused on mine. Watching my reaction.

  I don’t move. I want to cringe. If I am going through with this, it can’t be for him. Instead, I turn to Rachel. To her lips.

  The senator grabs my hand again and brings it toward Rachel’s lap. This time, his hand directs mine to the crevice of the coat. And then it happens.

  Our hands pull at both ends to open it from the middle.

  She giggles. “I took off my clothes while you were in the bathroom.”

  She’s already naked.

  She stands slowly, then finishes what we started. The coat falls to the floor, revealing the curves of her body as it does.

  For a moment I think it’s Lexi.

  But it’s not.

  Rachel’s breasts are fuller. Her belly more toned. Legs long and thick in all the right ways.

  I stare, suppressing the rage inside me.

  She leans over me, then brings her lips to mine. And we kiss. Her naked body brushes against me. Her breasts slide against my stomach. Her tongue against my lips.

  Then, before I know what is happening, she’s unbuckling my belt. Pulling at my pants.

  I’m exposed.

  Part of me hopes she will be disappointed. That I won’t be aroused. But I know that isn’t what she will find.

  She groans, then brings her lips down my neck.

  To my abs.

  Lower.

  Her eyes look up to mine, then she begins.

  Instinctively, I shudder.

  The sensation is almost foreign. The warmth slides up and down. Lips tight and tongue teasing along the way.

  Every logical thought in my head slips away, and all I can focus on is her. Her full breasts jiggling as she moves her head up and down.

  My body quivers and my head throbs, but I can’t stop it.

  The senator stands and takes off his pants. Rachel doesn’t stop.

  Instead she reaches her hand to him, grabs his erect penis, and pulls him toward her backside.

  A moment later, her mouth leaves me, waking me from my temporary daze.

  She screams in pleasure as the senator slides inside her from behind.

  I look up at the naked, mocha-skinned man with muscles oozing out of his body. His eyes meet mine, and he smirks.

  “Mmh,” he groans.

  Then he moves in and out, and Rachel’s eyes look back at mine. They close in ecstasy. Then she curls her lips around me, and slides up and down.

  . . .

  I’m alone.

  I feel broken.

  Ashamed.

  Rachel is lying naked in my bed in the other room, and the senator is gone. Probably at home reading a bedtime story to his daughters before he slips into bed with his wife. Sadistic fuck.

  I want him to burn for what he made me do. For what he’s done to Lexi. He’s part of the reason she died in the first place. In bed with American True Care and who knows what other special interests. Smiling that welcoming grin in front of the camera, while someone else pulls his strings. Meanwhile the bills he puts forward screw over innocent Americans looking to get insurance, who instead find themselves paying astronomical fees for not only the insurance but also the treatments that end up killing them.

  It’s a black fucking web. Millions of interconnected pieces, politicians, lobbyists, special interests, doctors, pharmacists, and pharmaceuticals, all working together to take our money and trap us in their lairs. First we need insurance, then a doctor’s visit, then another visit, then medicine, then medical equipment, then more doctor’s visits and more medicine, while they slowly strangle us and tighten their grip. And before we know it they have us just where they want us before they kill us. We’ve given them everything we’ve got because we think maybe, just maybe, if we keep giving, maybe they will let us live. But they don’t. When they’ve got it all, they kill us and feed our remnants to another industry oozing with money: the deathcare industry.

  I look into the mirror. Staring back is a man I don’t know anymore. The man I thought I knew would never do what I just did. The man I am staring at drinks, because he likes the numbness it brings. The man I am staring at takes sleeping pills because it shuts out the pain. The man I am staring at works for the company he hates most, and helps them go round. The man I am staring at lies every fucking minute of every fucking day. He blackmails his boss, blackmails congressmen, and bribes senators. The man I am staring at fucks random women two weeks after his wife’s funeral. He has a threesome, for Christ’s sake.

  And yet the man I am staring at is me. And somewhere inside, this man thinks he is doing the right thing. If there is even a right thing anymore. The question is: when does doing the right thing go too far and become the wrong thing?

  I am disgusted w
ith myself.

  I look down at the empty glass sitting on the counter.

  I clutch it in my hands.

  And then I scream. My insides tear apart with rage and let out everything left inside. I squeeze the glass as tight as my strength allows, and it shatters.

  The shards clatter against the floor, flying all over.

  And then I stop and look down. My hand is bloody and my throat burns.

  I’m naked and weak.

  I collapse to the floor, and tears rush to my eyes.

  I curl up in pain, both physical and emotional.

  And I cry.

  The emotions are uncontrollable. My body is convulsing from the intensity.

  It pours out of me. Everything I have. Everything I’ve been bottling up since her death. Everything I’ve numbed myself against. Everything I tried to shut out.

  I see Lexi’s face, still and ghost white on that hospital bed. The fear in her eyes before she was wheeled away. All bits of the confident Lexi I met and fell in love with gone.

  I can’t stop.

  I should have stopped her that day. Told her to stop the treatments. Told her it would be okay.

  But I didn’t, because I was selfish. Because I wanted her back to the way she was before the cancer. Back to the woman I fell in love with. The confident say-anything, do-anything Lexi.

  I thought if I encouraged the treatments and procedures, that one day maybe that Lexi would come back. I clung to the false hope that they fed me. I ate it up.

  The tears are warm and overpowering. I open my eyes but am blinded. The water gushes out. My whole body tingles. The numbness is gone.

  It’s the first time I’ve actually felt something real: sadness, loneliness, anger, and rage.

  I want to wake up and be back on that train in South Pasadena. I want to wake her from her nap and watch as she rolls her eyes. I want to do it all over again. Again and again.

  I open my eyes. Finally a calm settles over me, and the tears fade. I feel the pain in my hand from the shattered glass, and my heart is tired. I stare around me and realize I’m present. All of those feelings are gone. And what I am doing is right. I remember my words at the funeral. They are the reason I followed the instructions from the burner phone. The reason I handed Stan the envelope.

  The reason is justice.

  “David? What’s going on?” a female voice calls from behind me.

  I turn.

  Rachel stands naked at the door. My eyes trail up her body.