The Adam & Eve Trilogy

by Paul Preston

  Cal State Assistant Football Coach Accused of Physical Abuse

  Charges were filed in civil court today accusing the popular Cal State Assistant Football Coach Joseph Buquet of physical abuse by the parents of a young boy. Attorneys for the parents put out the following statement.

  “While participating in an after school program at Safe Haven, the boys and girls club founded by Buquet, our client claims Joseph Buquet cut him with a knife and threatened to hurt him again if he told his parents. The young boy claims two incidents of physical abuse occurred, once in a back room at Safe Haven and once in an equipment room on the campus of Cal State University.” Both Safe Haven and Cal State are listed as claimants in the multimillion dollar civil suits.

  Criminal charges have yet to be filed, though a lead investigator on the case observed cut marks on the back of the young boy’s thighs. A spokesman for Athletic Director Rick Reegan said, “We have a football game to prepare for this Saturday. Coach Buquet has been a valuable member of the Cal State family for over 20 years and we stand behind him at this time.”

  Calls to Joseph Buquet’s office at Cal State and Safe Haven were not returned.

  By the time Williamson finished reading, his hands were trembling and the paper tore in his hands. Williamson stared at the small picture of Buquet above the article. He was holding a clipboard and shouting instructions at one of his players from the sidelines. His cold dead eyes made Williamson feel instantly nauseous, dizzy and enraged all at once. He touched the back of his thighs under his robe. His fingertips once again felt the thirty two year old scars on the back of his legs, from his upper thigh to his lower calf.

  I thought I had killed that mother-fucker. And the son of a bitch is still getting away with it…

  Williamson wanted to scream obscenities as loud as he could from his balcony or put his fist through a wall. Instead, he calmed his breathing and called Luman on his cell, waking him up from a dead sleep.

  “What the fuck? It’s 4:30 in the morning. Who the hell is this?” Luman grunted into his cell.

  “It’s Williamson. Sorry to wake you at this hour, but I’ve got a job for you of utmost urgency. Please call Cogworthy and meet me at the condo as soon as you can get here. I need you to monitor the movements of an individual. It’s very important.”

  “OK, boss. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  Next he made a call to Andre Firmin. He picked up after just two rings.

  “Firmin.”

  “Andre, it’s Phillipe. I need you. Get over here right away!”

  Firmin smiled to hear Phillipe’s full-throated strong voice again.

  Thank God, He’s back…

  “Phillipe. What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “He’s alive…”

  “Who’s alive?”

  “The foster father who…sliced my legs.”

  “But, I thought you told me—”

  “He must’ve survived. And he’s still hurting children.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Meet me at the condo, ASAP.”

  “I’m on my way, Phillipe.”

  Williamson walked over to his bedroom and fired up his computer. He did a Google search, found some recent photographs of Buquet and printed them out. He returned to the living room and drank another cup of coffee. As he waited for his men to arrive, he thought up a plan. It wasn’t perfect, it had plenty of flaws, but it would have to suffice.

  Williamson looked at himself in a wall mirror. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and he saw that familiar crazed look in them again.

  I’m going to take care of that fucking bastard, once and for all…

  Thirty minutes later the four men met in the dimly lit dining room and sat around the table, talking in low tones. After handing out several photographs of Buquet, Williamson set up the details of his plan. After Williamson finished speaking, the men were silent.

  “Any questions?” Williamson asked.

  Firmin cleared his throat.

  “Phillipe… When you are alone with him…what are you planning—”

  Williamson slammed his fists on the table.

  “That’s not your concern!”

  The men exchanged a look with each other as Phillipe regained his composure.

  “As far as you know, you are just escorting him to the theater to meet me about a donation. It is important that you three no nothing else of my plan. What happens in the theater is strictly between me and Buquet. I don’t want any of you implicated in this!”

  “I understand, Phillipe,” Firmin said.

  Williamson walked away from the table.

  “So are you in or out?” Williamson asked.

  “I’m in,” Luman replied.

  “So am I, Mr. Williamson,” Cogworthy said.

  “Firmin?”

  Firmin got up from the table, walked over to Williamson and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “In,” Firmin said.

  Luman immediately left the condo to monitor when Buquet arrived at the sport’s complex on the campus at State.

  Williamson asked Firmin and Cogworthy to give him some privacy while he composed a long letter to Carlotta. They stepped into the kitchen to drink coffee. Williamson debated whether to involve Carlotta in his plans, but he knew of no other way to get Buquet where he wanted him, undetected. If things went smoothly, she would be safe. Even though Cogworthy would have his eyes on her at all times, he felt deeply conflicted about involving her, but there was no one else he could trust. He lay out several sheets of crisp white stationary on the dining room table and a pen. After struggling to begin, he wrote his note.

  Dearest Carlotta, I don’t know how to begin. I can’t express how happy and lucky I feel to have you back in my life, especially after… Bella Lisa’s accident. Now I don’t know what I would do without you in my life and never want to let you go. You’ve always been dear to me, Carlotta. You’re one of my oldest friends and I’ll never be able to thank you for the way you’ve comforted me in the last two days since my release from the burn center. Despite my hideous appearance, you’ve taken me in your arms and made me feel alive again, when all I wanted to do was curl up on my bed in the darkness, or worse, throw myself off the balcony and join Bella Lisa in her cold grave. You’ve given me a reason to live and I want you to be my submissive. As long as I remain alive, I will take no other. No one else can compare to you. If you will have me as your Dom, I am yours.

  You have asked me to mark you as my one true sub. I want you to be mine from the bottom of my heart, but it’s time I explained why I am unable to mark you, and who I actually am…

  My birth name is Erik Spencer. I never knew my father. My mother didn’t want me and put me into the foster care system as a young child. I was never adopted. When I was 13, in a dark hidden cellar, I caught my sick vicious foster father, Joseph Buquet, attempting to restrain and slice the skin of a little innocent foster child, Christine. I talked him into letting Christine go and keeping me there instead. For three long days and nights Buquet kept me tied up to a table on my stomach and… he slashed the back of my legs with his knife over and over. I nearly died from dehydration, the loss of blood and the infection and fever that followed. Like the kind foster father he pretended to be, Buquet nursed me back to health, only to prepare me to be tortured again. The next time I was ready for him. When he came into my bedroom, I followed him to the door and when he turned his back to me, I cracked his skull open with a baseball bat I had hidden in my room. At the time, I thought I had killed him. They sent me to Juvie for the next two and a half years, but even though I got picked on by the older boys I felt far safer there. I survived Juvie and was transferred to the foster home of a kindly old lady, Mrs. Williamson. She… was the first person who ever took care of me, who loved me. I took the name of her son, Phillipe Williamson, who was hit by a car and killed when he was just a boy. Mrs. Williamson was the only Mother I ever had.

  Two major events have just
happened to me.

  Christine has just come back into my life. I saw her last night, selling her body on a corner near the club. She was about to be physically assaulted on the street, when I intervened to help her. Please do not feel threatened by her, Carlotta. She will never be my sub, but I do feel the desire to protect her, like an older brother would protect his sister. She is damaged, perhaps much more so than I was by Joseph Buquet. She was unable to recover from what happened to her and she’s living in poverty. I hired her as a waitress at the club and you will meet her later tonight. I’m giving her a place to live, here at the condo. I want you and I to be the family she never had. I hope you will like her, Carlotta. She is a lost soul and she needs someone who loves her. When you see her, Carlotta, I hope you’ll be able to take her into your arms, and comfort her…

  The pen shakes in my hand as I write about the other event. Joseph Buquet… is alive. After I put you to bed, I couldn’t sleep. When the morning paper came out, I noticed an article about a football coach who was accused of physical abuse by the parents of a young boy. It was Buquet, and he is still getting away with abusing children, 32 years after he robbed me of my childhood and contributed to my mental illness. I should’ve told you long before now and I’m sorry I didn’t. Only my personal physician, Andre Firmin and of course, Bella Lisa knew this. Carlotta, I am ashamed to admit… I am a diagnosed schizophrenic. I have a history of cutting myself with knives. Now you know why I can’t be near you with a knife. I cannot be trusted. Now you know my deepest shame. If you no longer wish to be my sub, I will totally understand.

  But before you go, Carlotta, I have to ask for your help one more time. I want to make sure Joseph Buquet never has another opportunity to hurt a child again. I wish I could, but I can’t think of any way to do this without your help. If we do this correctly, you will be completely safe and I will finally have my time alone again with my dear foster father. This is my plan. It involves you making a return performance on the Adam and Eve Stage at the 8:00 show, tonight. No matter how much it pains me deep inside to allow another man to touch you and to allow you to give another man pleasure, I have to release you as my sub, just for this one night. There is a scenario I wish you to perform tonight which I will write and leave on your pillow, along with this note that you should read and study, a scenario that should draw Buquet to me like a fly to honey. I will ask Firmin to recommend the best current Dom to be your partner for the show. Firmin will be seated at the most center table, directly in front of the stage, with Buquet. I want you to make eye contact with him during the show, flirt with him, as if you are doing the show just for him. After the performance, Firmin will escort Buquet to your dressing room. He will be expecting to meet me so I can drop off a large donation for his charity. Firmin will tell him I was delayed a few minutes and suggest that while waiting, you could give him a private tour of the back stage area of the theater. Use all the sex appeal you have in your arsenal Carlotta to get him to come with you. You’ll lead him past the dressing rooms and down two flights to the lowest level of the theater, to the last room on the left where we store our props. One of my security team, Cogworthy, will be close by, in the shadows, at all times, watching over you and will protect you if anything goes wrong. If you are in any immediate danger, Cogworthy will intervene and he will make sure you come to no harm. Your physical safety is the most important thing to me. When you get to the prop storage room, I will be waiting…

  No one will see you bring him to me, however employees of the theater will see you go, and Cogworthy will bring you home safely in the limo. I will rendezvous with you back at the condo an hour later. If anyone ever is to ask you about Buquet, I want you to tell them that he did visit you after the show in your dressing room, but when he tried to touch you inappropriately, you slapped him and left the theater.

  That’s it. You have every right to say no to this. If you say no, I will still be your devoted Dom, if you’ll have me, Carlotta. I pledge my love to you, regardless of your decision and I certainly will not hold it against you if you do not want to get involved with this plan. I also will not hold it against you if you do not want to be involved with me further, now that you know I am mentally unbalanced. Please, just tell Firmin by 11AM if you choose not to participate in this, so I can figure some other way to get him into the bowels of the theater without being noticed.

  I know I am asking a lot from you, too much. Whether you say yes or no, you have saved me, Carlotta, from myself. And I’ll never be able to repay you for that. I hope you choose to remain my sub. I will be away from the condo all day, preparing for my meeting with Buquet. I look forward to seeing you this evening, Carlotta. But it might be wise of you to walk away and not look back. If you choose to leave me after reading this, just remember how much I care about you, and love you, Carlotta. My Carlotta.

  Always Yours, Phillip.

  P.S.: Burn this note after reading it, my love…

  After signing the note Williamson wrote the scenario and introduction for the 8PM performance. He asked for their best male performer and Firmin recommended a young Dom who had just been hired named Armond, who happened to working as the Dom for tonight’s performance. After giving Firmin the introduction he wrote, Williamson instructed Firmin to give the submissive on the schedule the night off with full pay if he received a call from Carlotta by 11AM and she agreed to the plan. He faxed the scenario to the club to Armond’s attention. Williamson went over to Carlotta’s bedroom and dropped off his long note and the scenario for the performance on top of the pillow next to her. He quietly left without waking her. Then all three men waited impatiently at the dining table for Luman’s call. At one point, Williamson gestured to Firmin to privately join him in the corner of the room.

  “Andre, thank you.”

  “For what, Phillipe?”

  “For giving Carlotta the elevator key. At first, I was so angry I wanted to fire you. But… she helped me… begin to get over what happened… to Bella Lisa. It was the best decision you ever made.”

  “I’m glad it worked out, Phillipe.”

  As Williamson turned away to continue pacing the room, Firmin grabbed Williamson’s arm and squeezed it. Williamson turned to face his old friend.

  “Phillipe… be careful tonight. Do what you must, but be careful…”

  Williamson raised his jaw to Firmin, breathed out and nodded.

  A few minutes after 8AM the call came in from Luman that Buquet was observed entering the sport’s complex on campus. Firmin called the university and got connected to Buquet’s line and it went directly into voice mail. Firmin read word for word the message Williamson wrote out. He spoke in an animated, enthusiastic voice.

  “Coach Buquet, This is Andre Firmin, personal assistant to Phillipe Williamson, the owner and CEO of Williamson Investments and Real Estate Services. Our accountant tells us we need to make a large 2012 donation and we need to get it done ASAP. I don’t know if you know or have heard of Phillipe, but he’s a big local sports fan and a really big Cal State guy. He listens to sport’s talk radio all the time and heard you interviewed on ESPN LA a few times about Cal State Football, as well as the charity you founded, Safe Haven. He wants to pull the trigger on a donation to the two organizations, but it must be done today, for tax purposes. So please call me back when you hear this message at 310-275-8410. Mr. Williamson told me to get him out of whatever meeting he’s having so he can speak to you personally about it. Thanks, Coach Buquet. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  Firmin pressed end call on his cell and looked at Williamson.

  “Well done, Andre,” Williamson said, patting his friend’s shoulder and smiling.

  The bait is set.

  When Buquet arrived at his office, none of the staff said hello or made eye contact with him.

  I wonder if they read the article?

  It had been stressful for several weeks at the facility, as well as on the practice field. Cal State seemed snake-bitten this year. There had been
a plethora of injuries, especially to their star senior quarterback, who had been in the conversation for the Heisman earlier in the season, now the kid would be lucky to be a late round pick. Their vaulted program, a perennial top twenty school in the BCS Poll every year, had completely dropped out of contention for a bowl appearance, even a crappy one. The coach was in a shitty mood, and with the team on a three game losing streak, everyone’s jobs were on the line.

  In this business, you’re either winning, or you’re fucked.

  Now, with the distraction of the law suit against the University, not to mention the bad press on Safe Haven, Buquet fully expected a shit-storm of pissed off calls on his voice mail. At the very least, he thought he would be suspended with pay pending the results of the investigation; at the worst he’d be fired. It wasn’t fair. After his interview for 60 Minutes a few years ago, donations to the University doubled. Despite his hard work over the last twenty years and the good will generated by the charity he created, Buquet knew it was always “what have you done for me lately” in college athletics. Between the coaching job and the salary from Safe Haven, he made over 100 grand for several years and had a pension coming to him. Not as much money as he made in the real estate business before it went belly-up, but not bad. It paid his mortgage, put the kids through college and kept food on the table.

  It’s been a good run. Maybe it’s time to retire…

  He rubbed his temple around the silver pointed hairs of his buzz-cut. He felt another migraine coming on. His Neurologist told him the headaches may have been caused by the trauma from the injury he suffered as a younger man.

  That mother-fucking kid with the baseball bat…

  Now whenever Buquet felt stressed, the headaches would return. He popped a few Advil and tried to man up. He picked up the phone a retrieved his voice mails. After a few quick messages from the trainer and a doctor who cleared a linebacker who had suffered a concussion to play on Saturday and the reporter from the newspaper asking for a comment, he got the message he was waiting for from the Athletics Director, Reegan. As expected, he set up a meeting in his office to discuss the article in the LA Times. Reegan sounded annoyed, but not quite as mad as Buquet thought he would be.