The Money Shot

by Glenn Dier

  As great as Ruffino was, Roxanne had a budget. Three bottles in the cart and no more.

  “Excellent wine, isn’t it.”

  The blush drained from Roxanne’s face; the smile dissolved. She swore she heard a rattlesnake rattle along with the familiar voice.

  “Janice,” said Roxanne, as she took down the last bottle. “What a surprise.” The word pleasant was temporarily excised from her vocabulary.

  “You’re smart to stock up now before the wedding bills arrive. I hear a wedding can cost 30,000 dollars. Have you and Sebastian considered eloping? 30,000 dollars would pay for an incredible holiday in Italy. Why drink Chianti here when you can drink it in a Tuscan villa.”

  “We haven’t decided on a honeymoon yet,” said Roxanne. Janice’s cart penned her in. Retreat offered the only escape route. She would make a strategic withdrawal before the viper could strike, but until then, ambiguity was her best defence. “I’m sure it will be some place romantic.”

  “Yes, Sebastian is all about the romance.”

  Roxanne squeezed the cart’s handlebar and forced a smile.

  “Have you picked the date yet?” asked Janice.

  “It’ll be sometime after the fall ratings. Sebastian doesn’t want it said that he left CBC in the lurch.”

  “A white gown against the autumn colours; you will look spectacular,” said Janice, using the hype of a fashion commentator. “I know this amazing bridal boutique on Bloor Street called Mariée. Tell Jean Claude that I sent you and you’ll get a discount.”

  “Actually, I’m sewing my dress.”

  Janice’s cheeriness evaporated. If Roxanne had realized that bursting Janice’s bubble would be such fun she would have done it long ago.

  “Of course you are,” said Janice. “I suppose you’re designing it too.”

  “I’m modifying a pattern. Something I can twirl in. I think making my own dress will be far more rewarding than buying something off the rack.”

  “I can’t wait to see it,” said Janice.

  Roxanne kept her distance. The snake was lying in wait.

  “We keep fluctuating between an intimate wedding with only close friends and family, and something splashier. Guest list etiquette requires more diplomacy than a UN resolution.”

  “I’m sure you’ll dazzle them, no matter how big the crowd. Don’t spare the makeup. Fake eyelashes are glamourous. Every guy in the room will swoon.”

  “I only want one guy in the room to swoon.”

  “I think all the women will swoon over that engagement ring. I’ve never seen one like it.” Roxanne spread her manicured fingers, showing off a white-gold ring with a pink, oval stone. “What is it?”

  “Rose quartz. It was my grandmother’s. Opa gave it to her before he set sail for Canada after the war. They didn’t see each other again for two years. She came to Halifax after he got settled. They married and had fifty-five years together. This ring is love.”

  “How precious,” said Janice, “and Sebastian saved a fortune.” Roxanne winced. “Any other traditions, Mrs. Hunter?”

  “Actually, I haven’t decided if I’m going to be Mrs. Hunter. I may keep my own name.”

  “Ah, the great debate.” said Janice. “What’s in a name?”

  “Just my identity."

  “I should let you go. I’m sure you’ve got a million things to do. If I could just reach past you for a bottle of Ruffino.”

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” Roxanne wheeled her cart out of the way.

  “You know,” said Janice, holding the bottle, “I introduced Sebastian to this wine. We shared a couple of glasses. He said you’d love it.”

  “When was that?” asked Roxanne as she laid the bottles flat in the cart, making sure the labels faced up.

  “It was after Garrison Hill’s funeral. Sebastian gave me a lift home. I gave him a nightcap.”

  Roxanne felt fangs puncture her heart. Pain, terrible pain. She leaned on the cart to keep her balance.

  “Next stop,” said Janice, “Bed Bath and Beyond. I need a new fitted sheet.”

  Poison flowed from the venom sacs, the way liquid squeezes through a needle. Drops pooled in the wound. Roxanne had no antidote. It was a lethal dose.

  “Bye.” Janice slithered away.

  Roxanne rooted around her purse for her to-do list. Buy Wine was the first item. Buy Fitted Sheet was the second.

  The crushed list bounced off the Ruffino bottles. She abandoned the cart.

  •

  Flags flapped overhead. Sebastian pushed up his sleeve and checked the time. 6:10. The rendezvous was scheduled for six. He decided to give him five more minutes. He scanned the network of sidewalks leading to the university’s administration building. Apart from a couple of hand-holding students, they were empty. Sebastian shifted his weight on the park bench. This one was certainly not designed for comfort.

  A Cadillac SUV turned into the circular driveway and stopped by Sebastian. The tinted window dropped.

  “Better late than never,” said Sebastian. “I was having my doubts.”

  “So was I,” said Chief Paul Bennett. “Get in.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Sebastian with a lackadaisical salute.

  Sebastian buckled his seatbelt. The SUV followed the loop out to Elizabeth Avenue. Bennett drove for a block, saying nothing.

  “It’s your dime, Chief. Why did you call?”

  “Do I have your word that nothing will be repeated?”

  “I don’t waste my time with off-the-record conversations, but I always protect my sources. I’ll verify the information with someone else before using it.”

  “I don’t like your approach.”

  “Take it or leave it. For all I know, you could be setting me up. I won’t be anybody’s patsy.”

  The chief’s eyes nervously bounced from one side of the road to the other. “I don’t want my name attached to this. Agree or get out.”

  “You’ll be Deep Throat.”

  “I have a package for you in the glove compartment.” Sebastian popped the tiny door. Inside was an envelope with a bulge.

  “Doesn’t feel like anthrax.”

  “I wish,” said Bennett. “No, it’s something you’ve been after.”

  Sebastian ripped open the envelope and tipped it. A flash drive fell into his palm. He closed a fist around it.

  “This is a very strange thing for the chief of police to do,” said Sebastian.

  “I would agree, except I’m not the chief of police anymore.” Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “I resigned yesterday. The minister of justice will make it official tomorrow.”

  Sebastian held the flash drive between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve got a pretty good idea what’s on this, do you?”

  “I thought it better not to ask. I was assured that the data was obtained legally.”

  “And you trust the people who said this?”

  “I have to. I’m going to be working with them.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “Chief…I’ll have to get used to not calling you that…Mr. Bennett, you’ve sold your soul to the devil.”

  “I don’t agree. Politics can be a noble profession…with the right people.”

  “Like you.”

  “Yes, like me. I believe in the rule of law and in helping people who need help.”

  “You’re tainted. Why do they want you?”

  “Your idea that I do an interview turned out to be brilliant.” Sebastian grimaced. “Everywhere I go people shake my hand and wish me well. People can forgive. My associates did some polling and I’m not quite the leper you think I am. They want me to run for office. I can’t be chief of police anymore, but I’m too young to retire. There are still things I want to accomplish.”

  “Am I speaking with a future minister of justice?”

  “No promises have been made.”

  “Forgive my cynicism. The rubes may buy it, but I don’t.”

  Bennett stopped at a crosswalk, letting two kids scoot across th
e road.

  “What about your drunk driving charge?” asked Sebastian.

  “I’m flying to Florida next week. I’ve made a plea bargain. I’m pleading guilty and will be fined 2000 dollars. No jail time.”

  “I can see the campaign slogan now—Vote Bennett for Good Judgment.”

  “You haven’t lost any of your sulfuric wit.” Bennett circled back to the university.

  Sebastian tossed the flash drive end over end, catching it on the fall. “This doesn’t make any sense. They could have just mailed the flash drive. Why get you to deliver it?”

  “It’s a test to see if I have the stomach for it.”

  “Being a flunky?”

  “No, dealing with reporters like you.”

  “Don’t be too sanctimonious,” warned Sebastian, hiding the flash drive in his pocket. “You’ve got yourself involved in a coup, and there will be blood.”

  “I’m sure you’ll cover it to the last drop.” The SUV parked by the bench where the drive began. Sebastian opened his door and pulled out his phone.

  “I should get to work. I hear the chief of police has resigned and is changing careers.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” said Bennett. “Best get a second source.”

  Sebastian shut the door and the SUV rolled away.

  •

  Sebastian threw his car keys in the wicker basket on the hall table.

  “Roxanne, I’m home.” The absence of a response surprised him. Her text said, ‘Come straight home. Special treat for dinner.’

  His nose told him nothing was cooking in the kitchen. His eyes confirmed it: a food-free stove and no Roxanne. The living and dining rooms were empty too. He walked down the hallway towards the closed bedroom door.

  “Roxanne?” Silence. Sebastian inspected the walls and floor. No sign of a struggle. He reached for the doorknob, bracing himself in case something unpleasant waited on the other side. His apprehension was a legacy of reporting on too many break and enters gone bad. Drug-crazed perps with no conscience, caring only about stealing enough money to feed the habit. Homeowners sometimes got hurt.

  Sebastian opened the door a crack. A hinge creaked. Roxanne had nagged him about oiling it. He saw a flickering light on the wall and used a foot to nudge the door wide, fists at the ready. Roxanne’s naked body lay on the bed, stomach down, her head nuzzled into her folded arms near the footboard. A pose so relaxing she could have been sunning herself on a beach.

  Lit candles glowed on both night tables. A tray sat on the bed holding a chocolate fondue heated by a tea light and a muffin pan filled with fruit. Pineapple chunks, strawberries, and banana slices were piled in the cups. Sebastian uncocked his arms.

  Roxanne slid her hands under her chin and opened her eyes.

  “Welcome home.”

  “Why didn’t you answer when I called out?” asked Sebastian with a tinge of annoyance. Severe vexation wouldn’t be prudent, not with a nude woman on his bed.

  Roxanne propped herself up on her elbows. Her pert breasts drooped. “I thought a little intrigue would lure you in here.” She mimed reeling in a fish.

  “I’m happy to be caught, but what’s the occasion?”

  “Blame the marriage counsellor. She asked about our sex lives. I could only think of one event that made me blush. A young woman should have more than that. Something to remember fondly when she’s old. And her man should have that same glow. This is a night to create new memories.”

  Sebastian undid his tie and lobbed it on the bed. Roxanne wrapped an end around each hand and snapped it taut.

  “I’ve got an idea,” she said, “let’s be risqué.”

  “Who are you and what have you done with Roxanne?”

  “Remember your fantasy about being tied up?” she murmured.

  “I distinctly remember that suggestion getting a cold reception.” He took a wary step closer.

  “Maybe I’ve been too much the prude.”

  “You come by it honestly.”

  “It’s just trashy fun. Toss me another tie and your wish might come true.”

  “You don’t have an ice pick underneath the bed, do you?” Sebastian made an exaggerated bend and playfully stretched his neck, trying to detect a honed point in the shadows.

  “It’s been done already,” said Roxanne.

  Sebastian whipped his least favourite tie off the rack and sent it sailing towards the damsel who offered distress. The rest of his clothes came off with frantic speed, piling up on the floor.

  Roxanne slid the food tray to her side of the bed and the bare Sebastian lay on his. He reached back over his head and grabbed the ornate scrolls of the metal headboard. Roxanne lashed each wrist to a decorative tube. She used a bowline knot, a knot she learned as a kid on her father’s boat. An easily tied knot that cannot slip.

  “Comfortable?” asked Roxanne.

  “Comfortable and hungry,” said Sebastian.

  Roxanne stabbed a strawberry with a bamboo skewer. She dipped it in the molten chocolate, coating the bottom half of the berry, making it as luscious as any in Gourmet magazine. The strawberry fluttered to Sebastian’s mouth. Roxanne teased him, refusing to lower the strawberry past his yearning lips. Sebastian lunged at the strawberry, pulling it off the skewer with his teeth.

  “Delicious,” said Sebastian. His compliment was rewarded with pieces of pineapple and banana dripping with chocolate seduction.

  “You’re not eating,” said Sebastian. “You’re going to need your strength.”

  “I wanted to make sure that you were looked after first.” Roxanne churned a finger in the dark, rich swirl. She licked it clean. “Perfect.” She picked up the pot.

  Sebastian followed the fondue with wide-eyed trepidation as it glided round his body. Roxanne suspended the flight over his chest. She tipped the pot just enough for a dollop to fall.

  Sebastian sucked in as the chocolate landed on a nipple. Roxanne’s tongue flirted around his breast.

  “Pour it,” he begged.

  “Are you ready for the flood?”

  “Yes,” he said in a hush.

  The fondue pot circled his upper chest before swerving south and stalling over his erect penis.

  “That might be a tad sensitive for a fondue,” he said.

  “You’re absolutely right.” Roxanne swung across his thighs, her legs straddling his. She sat, pegging him to the bed. Sebastian gasped.

  “They say cold water causes shrinkage,” said Roxanne, “I wonder what happens with hot chocolate.”

  Roxanne tilted the fondue like a melting pot in a steel mill. Sebastian’s inflated eyes followed a cascade of melted chocolate. The waterfall coated his penis.

  “Jesus Christ,” he shrieked, while thrashing about. Roxanne rode out the bucking. The bull couldn’t throw the rider. Sebastian’s penis shrivelled.

  “Are you trying to burn the family jewels?”

  Roxanne shrugged. “I think we’ve just redefined the term hothead.”

  “You are trying to burn the family jewels. What’s going on?”

  “Well, pouring Chianti over your genitals is passé.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I know about you and Janice.”

  “Know what about me and Janice?”

  “Flirting is one thing. Fucking is another.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong. Untie me, Roxanne. Let’s talk this out.”

  She poked his flaccid penis with a skewer. Sebastian tensed. “You let the little head do the thinking for the big head,” she said. “If I remember correctly, Lily Chin said the same thing about Ethan Tremblay. You two have more in common than I like.”

  “Roxanne, this is crazy.”

  Roxanne hopped off Sebastian. She pulled a suitcase out of the closet and laid it by the bed.

  “When did I ever cheat on you?” asked Sebastian.

  “Between burying your colleague and cuddling with me.”

  “That’s not true. Did Janice tell yo
u that?”

  “Actually, she did in her coy, reptilian way.”

  Roxanne groped underneath the bed. Sebastian strained against the ties. “Relax. I’m not after an icepick.” She retrieved a phone and dialled a number.

  “Hi Daddy.” Sebastian felt as weak as his penis. “Would you do me a favour, please? Sebastian is tied up and needs a helping hand. I’ve got an appointment.”

  “No-o-o-o,” implored Sebastian quietly.

  “He has to move some stuff out of the house. It shouldn’t take long.”

  Sebastian only heard bits of the reply, but caught the phrase “one hour.”

  “Thanks so much, Daddy. I really appreciate it and Sebastian will too. The door will be unlocked. Just come on in.” She touched End Call.

  “Roxanne, you can’t let your father see me like this.”

  “You’re right.” Roxanne used a skewer to flick his limp penis from the right thigh to the left. “That looks more natural, for a lefty.” She gripped the skewer like a dart and let it fly. It landed in the fondue. “Such a waste of good chocolate.”

  “Roxanne, we can work this out. Don’t throw our relationship away.”

  “I’m not the one who did that. I simply brought it to a head, so to speak. I’m having a shower and then I’m going out. Don’t be here when I get back. Or next time, it will be an icepick.”

  Roxanne turned her back and walked to the door. “He’ll be boring, Roxanne,” said Sebastian. His words bricked the doorway.

  “Whoever you end up with, he’ll be boring. Dull. Insipid. He won’t make you laugh. He won’t know how to make a bouillabaisse. He won’t know anything about Warren Zevon. He won’t stand in the Sistine Chapel and describe how Michelangelo painted the hand of God. He won’t make you glad that you’re with him.”

  “You think you’re the only man who knows French cuisine. You’re the only art critic. You’re the only witty guy. I don’t think so. The next man I’m with will be all of that and so much more. And he won’t break my heart.” She walked out of the bedroom with poise.

  “Come back, Roxanne,” he pleaded. Sebastian threw his head back on the pillow and tested both knots with a tug. He wasn’t going anywhere. Roxanne appeared in the doorway. His heart raced.