Mad, Mad World

by J. D. Sloane

  “Look, Ronan,” she said her long blond hair brushing the top of her hands as she leaned forward. “Mr. White. I know all about your reputation. And obviously you’re very attractive. I mean you know that. Obviously you know that. I bet they come to your bed like lambs to the slaughter, don’t they? All of them. All of these lonely, misguided women. But I’m not one of your groupies. And I’m not going to fuck you. Not now. Not ever.”

  Ronan bit back a slow grin as she let out a sigh, her face taking on the determined look of someone gearing up for the second part of a well-rehearsed speech. He shifted forward in his chair, his face lighting up as he flattened his palms on the table.

  “Never say never,” he said shifting forward in his chair, his wide eyes filling with a rare flash of his undivided attention. Alicia swallowed hard, refusing to be unmoored by the unexpected jolt his stare gave her, his gaze shifting over her body like the waves of like a dark, restless lake.

  “I’m serious Ronan. I’m not here for any of that. If that’s what you’re interested in maybe you should find some other reporter to tell your story to.”

  Ronan’s grin broadened and then he buried the expression as if by magic, his face dropping back into lines of polite half-interest as he leaned back in his chair.

  “Is that what you’re here for Alicia? My story?”

  “I’m here to give you an opportunity to tell your side to people, Ronan. Your version of things, in your own words. The court of public opinion can be an incredibly powerful tool. Lots of things can come from it. A commuted sentence, a retrial…”

  “Not planning on trying to turn me into a book now are you, Miss Gale?”

  Alicia bit her lower lip and reached for her purse in spite of herself, every nervous instinct in her body crying out for the simple numbing ritual of a smoke. She broke off awkwardly as she realized what she was doing and then shoved the purse away from her, brushing her hair back from her face with a short sigh.

  “That would be completely up to you, Mr. White. And kind of putting the cart way before the horse, if you know what I mean.”

  Alicia scratched the back of her neck in distraction, tucking her long bangs behind one ear with brush of her fingertips.

  “Do you smoke?” Ronan asked, clearing his throat.

  Alicia rolled her eyes in his direction and paused as she noticed how closely he was watching her, his dark eyes suddenly on high alert as his gaze shifted rapidly between her face and her purse.

  “No, not really,” Alicia said, exhaling slowly as she rolled her eyes. “You can’t really nowadays, right? I mean, not with all the science and the campaigns. ‘Smoking kills everyone.’ Blah, blah, blah.’”

  “That must be difficult for you.”

  “It is. Harder than it sounds. And you want to know the funniest part?”

  “What’s that?”

  “You never stop wanting a cigarette. I mean that’s what they never tell you in all those terrifying, late night ads. You can stop smoking for a decade and you’ll still never really be a non-smoker. You just learn to- live with the itch, you know?”

  Ronan started to smile and then brushed his knuckles over his lips, his expression politely bemused as his dark eyes ran down the length of her hair.

  “I know what you mean,” he said, cocking his head slightly as Alicia pointed to her hair with her pen.

  “And you’re right. It was red.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “My hair was red,” she said. “Or it used to be. It’s been a long time since it’s actually been that color.”

  “Ah. And your boyfriend didn’t like it. So now you’re a blond.”

  Alicia’s brow furrowed, and she looked at the tape recorder quickly before checking her watch.

  “Oh,” Ronan said smiling. “Is he actually going to listen to these tapes? What’s the matter? Doesn’t he trust you with a story this important?

  “Just because I got this story doesn’t mean that I’m fucking my boss.”

  “But you are fucking him, aren’t you? Dula certainly seems to think so. And from what I understand, he and your boyfriend go way back.”

  Alicia pressed her lips together, her eyes widening.

  “Dula told you that?”

  “He did. Good ole Dula isn’t very discreet, I’m afraid. At least not when it comes to other people’s secrets. I’d never trust him with anything too important if I were you.”

  Alicia opened her mouth as Ronan’s face lit up with malicious delight and cleared her throat in the silence as her lips thinned out into a smooth, annoyed line.

  “Tell me about that night, Ronan,” she said, her voice smooth and curt.

  “Which night are you referring to?”

  “You know exactly what night I’m referring to.”

  “Why would you want to talk about that when there are so many interesting things we could talk about?”

  “Did you kill Connor or not?”

  Ronan laughed, dragging his hands into his lap with a sharp, violent rattle.

  “We’ve covered that, haven’t we?”

  “Did you order your men to kill him?”

  “Let’s just say that I was in the general vicinity of the incident.”

  “Did your girlfriend do it? Brooke?”

  Ronan looked up at her sharply, his entire face shifting with some emotion to quick and convoluted to decipher and then became serene again as he drummed his fingers on his chair.

  “No,” he said, his voice low and clipped as Alicia met his eyes across the table.

  “She was there though, wasn’t she? That night on the boat?”

  Ronan’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head as she saw him glance back at the doorway, the shift of his gaze so controlled it was barely perceptible.

  “I take it you don’t want to talk about her.”

  “Like I said, Alicia,” he said, his low voice curling with an amused kind of contempt. “I wish I could help you. If you really want a story maybe you should do some research on our fine city out there. Because Dula isn’t the real problem, you know. He’s just the latest symptom of the disease.”

  Alicia put down the photos and then folded her hands in front of her, meeting his eyes squarely across the table.

  “They say she was killed in a warehouse, less than ten blocks away from your home.”

  Ronan mumbled something under his breath and Alicia sat forward, trying to catch his glance as he looked around the room slowly.

  “What? What was that?”

  “I said no one killed her,” He said his voice low and measured. “They’re keeping her from me.”

  “Who is? What are you talking about?”

  Ronan ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he shifted against his restraints, his face twitching across the surface of his scar.

  “You mean the photographer, don’t you? You mentioned him before. In your statement.”

  Ronan rolled his eyes back towards her slowly as Alicia shuffled through her papers again, looking for one at the bottom of the pile.

  “That’s what you told them when they brought you in, didn’t you?” She said, scanning the page as she underscored a paragraph with the tip of her finger. “The officer on duty thought you were just angling for an insanity plea. But there was no one on that motel footage, Ronan. And no witness ever claimed to see anyone fitting that description. No one but you.”

  “Well why not ask the honorable Chief Nolan about it?” Ronan said, his voice suddenly hard and cheerful. “He seemed to take a personal interest in the case. And all of the evidence.”

  “I’ve looked the footage over myself,” Alicia said, leaning over the table as the photos scattered in front of her in a sudden accordion of images. “And I know that’s what you’ve said. I know it’s what you keep saying, but there just isn’t any evidence to support it.”

  “So. They. Say.”

  Ronan’s eyes fluttered closed for a
moment and Alicia watched his eyes shift below his lids, his pale handsome face a smooth unreadable blank.

  “Look,” Alicia said, her voice softening as she pushed the photos aside. “Ronan. I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be to get closure in a situation like this. But there was…a significant amount of blood in that warehouse. So much that the coroner said it would be impossible for anyone to make it out of there alive.”

  “And what would you know about it, Alicia?” Ronan asked, his voice low and bored.

  “I know that you killed your own men looking for her,” Alicia pressed. “I know you tortured them to death trying to get information that they didn’t have. I know that your obsession with a dead woman is what landed you in here. Now if you can give me something, anything, to go on, I’ll run down your leads. I will. But not when everyone else is hearing horses but you. Not when every single cop involved with this case says that you’re the one who’s mistaken.”

  Ronan opened his eyes and then leaned forward, his dark, restless gaze darting over her features as if angling for a kiss.

  “You don’t know anything. Not about me. Not about her. Nothing. You’re a tourist. You wouldn’t even know where to point your camera without your boss handing you a mapped itinerary.”

  Alicia flinched, her eyes widening as if she’d been slapped and then reached across the table with sudden anger, palming her recording device before sweeping it into her purse.

  “But then helping people isn’t exactly your wheelhouse, is it?” Ronan asked casually, his expression darkening with a delighted sort of malice as he followed her hand across the table. “I can tell that it’s not.”

  “You’re wrong,” Alicia said, sweeping the photos into a thin pile before tucking them into her folder with a snap of her wrist. “I did come here to help. But it’s obvious to me that you have no intention whatsoever of helping yourself.”

  She tucked her folder into her bag as Ronan’s eyes narrowed and then leaned towards him as she pointed in the direction of the hallway.

  “Our station has a viewership of around a million people, Ronan, and that’s just in the tri-state area alone. My best guess? This story goes national the same day it airs. That’s an entire nation of viewers who will be tuning in to hear your side of things. When you decide that a captive audience that large has value, that what I’m offering you is worth even a fraction of your actual interest, you give me a call. Otherwise I think we’re through here.”

  “You want to know what the problem is with women like you, Alicia?” Ronan asked, his eyes twirling wildly as she leaned over to open her bag. “Hmm? Do you?”

  “Let me guess. I know what my attention is worth?”

  “You’re way too concerned about what other people might think,” he said, turning his wrist in her direction as he tapped it lightly. “And not nearly concerned enough about what other people might actually do.”

  Alicia dropped her eyes as she heard a sudden clang and felt her throat go dry as Ronan undid his right cuff in front of her, dropping his left cuff to the table as he rubbed his wrist carelessly for a moment.

  “Old parlor trick,” he said, tilting his head in her direction. Alicia felt her pulse burst into a gallop and gripped the top of the flat metal plate against her wrist as Ronan rolled his shoulders, his dark eyes beginning to dance with a sudden unhealthy light.

  “Go ahead,” Ronan said, raising his brows politely. “That thirty second response time is a little exaggerated. But I’m game if you are, Alicia. Whenever you’re ready.”

  Alicia felt her entire body go electric with fright as Ronan shot his arm out like a piston and ripped the panic button out of her fingers, snapping the elastic off her wrist as she threw her body backwards. She heard her chair screech on the tile floor as she turned without thinking and felt her stomach leap into her throat as she saw Ronan mount the table out of the corner of her eye, the movement so smooth and effortless she could barely believe she had seen it. She screamed as he clamped his hand around her wrist like a vise and felt her entire body go limp with terror as he smacked his other hand over her mouth, dragging her across the table as his entire expression twisted with rage.

  Alicia kicked at him wildly, digging her nails into the front of his arm and then felt her jaw snap shut as Ronan dragged her over to his side of the table and then dropped to one knee behind her, holding her body against him as he swung his free hand up towards the table.

  “Now, Now,” he said against her ear as Alicia threw her body forward and tried to break her grip. “This is only going to hurt if you make it. That’s it. Nice and relaxed.”

  Alicia’s eyes widened as Ronan yanked her wrist behind her and snapped his cuff around it with a smooth snap, throwing the slack around her neck until she felt it cut into her throat. She gasped as he shoved her forward, her cheek sliding against the tile floor and felt all the air leave her lungs as Ronan closed his other cuff around her left wrist, letting the slack out slightly as he reached for something behind him.

  “Help me!” Alicia screamed as she felt Ronan release her and then gasped as he yanked the chain tight, the smooth links slamming against her windpipe like piano wire.

  “Careful, Miss Gale,” Ronan said, something dark and vicious creeping into his voice as he bent over her, speaking against her neck until his words held the weight of a caress. “I thought this was a private party. Plus, we still have a lot of important ground to cover. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Alicia felt her head swim, her hands clawing the air behind her back frantically before she caught hold of the slack and yanked it hard, taking in a sudden, startled gulp of air.

  “Please!” she screamed, her voice breaking with fear and Ronan gave her a low sneer of annoyance and wound the slack around his palm, yanking it harder as her neck arched backwards.

  “That’s not very smart,” Ronan said, holding the chain tautly as she struggled to fill her lungs with air, his low voice almost patient with boredom. “Keep doing that and you won’t have any voice left. Or would you prefer Dula’s guards to bust in and find you chained on the floor at my feet? A story like that has a way of getting around, Alicia. And trust me when I say that my version won’t do anything to help your professional reputation.”

  Alicia felt her panic escalate in leaps and bounds as her head swam with blood and then felt her head drop forward as Ronan gave her some slack, her eyes rolling with terror as she took in air in quick, gulping bursts. Ronan let her breathe for a moment, his head tilting towards her as she turned her head to look at him and then pulled his chair around and sat down behind her, slapping her back lightly with the slack.

  “Now this is a more honest place to begin, isn’t it?” He asked, his voice low and controlled again as his lips tipped up in grim amusement. “And just the way to start a healthy working relationship with one of your interviewees.”

  Alicia turned her head to face him as Ronan shifted forward in his chair, his fingers drumming the air around him as they dangled over his knees. She saw him consider the tie-front of her dress, and then froze as Ronan smiled slightly, his eyes running over her face with a sudden flash of nasty understanding.

  “What do you want?” She asked, her voice clipped and hoarse as Ronan tipped his body forward, his dark eyes twirling with sudden vicious amusement.

  “Now only a Channel Six reporter could find themselves chained face down on the floor and ask a question like that.”

  Alicia felt her throat tighten as Ronan licked his bottom lip and glanced away quickly as she felt him shift the chain across her back, the movement so feather light she felt a wild rush of chills up the corridor of her spine. Her eyes darted around the floor frantically, searching for the missing panic button and then let her fingers drop away from the chain as she heard Ronan whistle behind her, her nights at the club with Matt pulsing through her mind in one quick, faceless reel of hits.

  “What do you think, Alicia? Ready to play nicely for
a while? Clocks. Ticking. Down.”

  There’s only one way to handle guys like this, she thought, rolling her shoulders slightly as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Let him think he’s in control. Pure and simple.

  “Do I have a choice?” she asked and felt her entire body stiffen as she heard Ronan slide his chair closer.

  “Oh, nothing but choices, Alicia,” he said slowly, his low voice stirring her hair as he spoke. “There are so many ways to do this. So many pleasant, easy ways. But why not distinguish yourself from the crowd, hmm? Why not be the first woman to walk through that door who didn’t have to learn everything the hard way?”

  Alicia bit her lip, her shoulders sagging as he watched her and then turned to face him on the floor, the chain around her neck turning the movement into a short, tight arc.

  “If you hurt me they’ll never let another reporter within ten feet of you,” she said, looking up at him carefully as she twitched her knees apart on the tile floor. “You’ll have to give every statement through a steel door. No one will ever help you again.”

  Ronan smirked at her and placed his boot on top of the slack with a casual turn of his foot.

  “Let’s stick with your strengths for now, shall we?” Ronan asked, something dark and cheerful creeping into his voice as he bent over her.

  “And I think we’ve already established that helping other people isn’t one of them.”

  “I couldn’t be more serious, Ronan,” Alicia said, her voice shaking. “One word to Dula about any of this and you’ll be sweating it out in solitary for….”

  Alicia felt all the air leave her lungs as Ronan brought his foot down on the slack of the chain in one hard motion, the steel groves tightening against her windpipe like a noose.

  “I can do this all hour long, Alicia,” he said, letting go all at once as he leaned away from her. “How about you?”

  He drummed his fingers across one knee as she tried to catch her breath and she looked up at him slowly as she noticed his hard cock outlined against the thin fabric of his jumpsuit, her terror ebbing slightly as he cleared his throat.

  “Fine,” she said, trying to keep her voice low and even as she slid her hand against the cool steel of her cuff. “Your game, Ronan. What do you want?”