by Paul Preston
Firmin took Christine by the arm and they walked out to the waiting limo. After watching the limo pull away, Firmin went back into the theater. He walked up to the stage and made an announcement into the microphone.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, due to technical difficulties, the later performance needs be cancelled. On your way out, please pick up a complimentary voucher to provide you with free admission to a future performance of the Adam and Eve Club. Please accept our deepest apologies for any inconvenience.”
The crowd began to stand up and make their way toward the exit. After the crowd had filed out, Firmin met with the head of security.
“Mr. Firmin, the lobby and parking area are all clear. I’m about to do a sweep of the interior of the—”
Firmin interrupted the security officer.
“I will finish the security sweep inside. After you finish the sweep of the outer perimeter, wait for me in the lobby. I’d like you to give Carlotta and her bodyguard an escort to their vehicle. Then I’ll rendezvous with you later and we’ll lock up the building, then leave. Also we’ve got to get those camera cables fixed tomorrow.”
“I’ll get someone over to replace them first thing tomorrow morning,” the officer said.
After Firmin left the dressing room, Carlotta sat down in front of her mirror and began removing her make-up.
“Finally, he’s gone. My God, what a bore. Andre’s been in love with me for eight years now, seen every one of my movies, but he’s too nervous and weak to do anything about it. He’s obsessed with me,” Carlotta said, primping in the mirror.
“I can see why. You’re a beautiful woman,” Buquet said.
“What a sweet thing to say…”
Buquet watched her in the reflection of the mirror as she finished removing her make-up. Carlotta picked up a bottle of skin lotion and squeezed it into her palms. She made eye contact with Buquet and rubbed her nipples under her robe with the lotion.
“I hope you don’t mind if…”
“No, not at all,” Buquet said, becoming aroused, watching her.
“It just that my… nipples… after the performance feel a little sore and this lotion helps. My… breasts… have always been a little sensitive.”
“Mmmm. What about your legs?”
“My legs?”
“Where he cut you.”
“Oh, you dear man.”
Carlotta stood up and turned her back to Buquet, showing off the back of her legs.
“My legs, as you can see, are just fine.”
“But—”
Carlotta turned away, sat back down at the mirror and rubbed more lotion onto her nipples.
“Stage blood, Joseph. Our shows at the club play out fantasies a woman or man might have, but certain things are an illusion. I can’t have my skin cut up night after night. Honey, do you mind rubbing this cream on my nipples. It always feels better when someone else does it…”
“Certainly, my dear…”
Buquet loosened the sash of her robe, squeezed the lotion into his palms and slowly rubbed her breasts with it.
“Thank you, Joseph. That feels much better. You have very warm hands…”
He rubbed and fondled Carlotta’s breasts in the silence.
“Have you ever had the fantasy of having someone… cut you like that?” Carlotta asked.
“Actually… yes. But I’ve never met a man who is strong enough, man enough, to do that for me… Have you ever…?”
“No.”
Buquet removed his hands from her robe and turned away, checking his watch. Carlotta stood up and turned to Buquet, her robe open, exposing her breasts.
“You know, Joseph, perhaps you noticed, I was looking at you from the stage tonight,” Carlotta whispered.
“I noticed…”
“I’ve always had a bit of a thing for older, well-built men. More experienced, in the right areas. Are you attracted to me? You certainly seem to be.”
“I’m married…”
With the tip of her index finger, Carlotta traced the outline of Buquet’s erection as she spoke.
“I won’t tell if you won’t…”
“Jesus, I just saw you have sex twice with that guy on the stage.”
“I guess I’m insatiable.”
Buquet grabbed Carlotta’s breast and pulled her body into him.
“God, you’re so sexy.”
“Not here, Joseph. There are cameras all over the room. The security guards will think you’re trying to rape me. I know of a room downstairs where we can have some privacy.”
“What about Williamson?”
“He’s always running late. Firmin will tell him I took you on a backstage tour. He’ll wait for us there. What I have planned for you shouldn’t take too long to accomplish.”
“Really.”
“I told you I can be quite… accommodating.”
Ok, Carlotta. Fuck yeah. Lead the way.
Carlotta dressed in her sheer lingerie and robe and led Buquet through the shadows. As Cogworthy followed close behind, he sent another text to Williamson.
On their way.
After they went down two flights of darkly lit stairs, Buquet suddenly grabbed Carlotta from behind, and pulled her robe almost off her shoulders. She could feel his erection pressing against her back side. His large sweaty palms grasped both of her breasts. He whispered into Carlotta’s ears.
“I lied to you a minute ago, Carlotta.”
“About what, Joseph?” Carlotta asked nervously, her heart racing.
“I have fantasized about cutting someone before.”
With one hand, Williamson began unzipping his pants and removing his trousers, while keeping Carlotta pressed to the cold wall. Cogworthy immediately texted Williamson.
He’s got her pinned to the wall, about to rape her. Should we abort?
Buquet began to pull down the back of Carlotta’s panties.
“But I want…” Carlotta said, her voice shaking.
“What?” Buquet said.
Cogworthy got the return text from Williamson.
Abort.
Cogworthy stepped out of the shadows and started to approach them from several feet away.
“I want you to cut me and fuck me at the same time. There’s a knife where I’m taking you and a table you can tie me down on,” Carlotta said.
“Ok. I think I could do that. Lead the way.”
Buquet let go of her panties and released her from the wall. Carlotta darted down the hall, and Buquet quickly followed her. Just a few feet away, Cogworthy leaned against the wall and sent another text.
He let her go. They’re on their way again.
Carlotta led Buquet into the prop storage room. It was pitch dark inside and Phillipe heard Buquet’s voice.
“I can’t see anything. Where’s the light?”
From a few feet away, hidden behind a tall stack of old boxes, Williamson pulled on a cord attached to a single light bulb overhead. Buquet blinked once and looked around the room, shielding his eyes. Buquet saw the swaying cord attached to the overhead light, and then saw the restraint table directly underneath the bulb. When the cord stopped swaying and came to rest, Buquet saw the small single shelf mounted on the wall near the table, with a single knife displayed on it.
“What… the… fuck?” Buquet uttered.
He took a tentative step toward the shelf and saw a label affixed to the shelf. He read it.
Joseph Buquet.
“What is…”
When Buquet turned back to Carlotta, he saw a muscular large masked man standing in front of him, wearing some kind of hat, and holding a hypodermic needle in his right hand.
“Happy Halloween, Joseph,” Williamson said.
When Williamson saw the look of confusion and fear in the man’s eyes, he injected a strong anesthetic into Buquet’s carotid artery and caught him as he lost consciousness. He lifted him up and quickly restrained Buquet by the wrist and ankle cuffs to the table, on his back. Williamson walked over t
o Carlotta, tying the sash around her robe and with a look of pain and love in his eyes, whispered in her ear.
“Thank you,” Williamson said.
Carlotta nodded and left, escorted by Cogworthy, safely out of the theater and back to the condo.
When Buquet awoke a few minutes later, he opened his eyes to darkness. He felt himself confined on a table of some kind, blindfolded, with his wrists and ankles restrained. He heard the sound of voices and listened closely, trying not to move a muscle.
“You have him where you want him. Go ahead. Do it now, before he wakes up.”
“I want him to be awake and looking into my eyes when I cut into him for the first time, just like the motherfucking pervert did to me… and Christine.”
Buquet tried to recognize the two voices. They sounded like the voices were coming from the same person, but couldn’t picture who was speaking.
“What about the body? Where are you going to dispose of the body?”
“That is not your concern, Beast.”
“But, Phillipe, my good friend. You haven’t thought this through clearly. Finish him off first, quickly and cleanly. You won’t have a struggle, there’ll be no screaming. Keep the blindfold on—”
“I told you, I want him to look me in the eye when I slice him! Sit in the corner and stay out of it! He’s mine!”
Suddenly, Buquet panicked. Summoning all the strength in his body, he violently shook himself upon the table, but the tight restraints held fast. Buquet tried to scream, but received a hard slap as soon as he opened his mouth and tasted blood on the corner of his lip.
“It seems your foster father woke up.”
“I can see that, Beast.”
“Who is it? Who are you? Let me go!” Buquet shouted out.
Williamson removed the blindfold from Buquet. Buquet squinted in the glare of the light bulb and saw the face of the masked figure above him.
“Good evening, Father…” Phillipe said.
“What? Who are you? Is this some sort of sick joke? How dare you tie me up like this! Do you know who I am?”
“I do, sir. But do you recognize me? It’s been a few years since we’ve seen each other.”
“I have no idea who you are and I’m in no mood to play games. Let me go immediately.”
“Perhaps you need a reminder.”
Williamson took his time, nonchalantly removing his Fedora and hanging it up on a hat rack in the corner of the room. He walked back to Buquet and leaned over his body, removing his mask inches away from Buquet’s face.
“Do you remember me now, Mr. Buquet?
Buquet recoiled at the sight of the man’s ruined skin. The right side of his face looked like a slab of beef a butcher had pounded beyond recognition, until all that was left of the flesh was blood, gristle and bone. His skin smelled of rot and death. The sight and smell of it nearly made him wretch. Ashamed, Buquet felt his own urine drip down his inner thigh and seep into his clothing.
“You still don’t recognize me, Mr. Buquet? Or shall I call you… Father Joseph?”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about. You’ve mistaken me for someone else. Your face is disgusting! Get away from me!”
Williamson touched his scalp above Buquet’s right ear, running the tip of his knife over a scar.
“No, I don’t think so. There’s no mistake. Here it is. This is where I split your skull, thirty two years ago, with the baseball bat I brought home from school. I gave you one nice scar for the hundred or so you gave me. Remember?”
It was him! The disturbed kid who put me in a coma. The fucked-up kid…
Williamson leaned over and whispered into Buquet’s ear.
“I thought I’d knocked some sense into you back then. This time I plan on finishing the job, and gutting you like the pig you are, Buquet…”
Williamson touched the side of Buquet’s face with the knife and moved it slowly and gently across the skin of his cheek and throat, leaving behind the faintest trace of a scratch.
“Have I jogged your memory at all Joseph? Your lovely Hermosa Beach foster home, with the built in torture chamber in the cellar and the knives you exhibited as trophies on the shelves, with the names of all the innocent children you physically abused. I know you had to move away from there after I tried to hit a triple down the third base line with your brains, but don’t worry, Joseph. I decorated this room to remind you of your old house. You even have your own shelf with the knife I plan to cut you with, just as you did—”
“I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about, but I never lived in Hermosa Beach and I never—”
Williamson snapped, screaming in his ear loud enough to burst an eardrum and holding the knife firmly at his throat.
“I have had enough of your lies, Buquet! If you don’t start acting like a man and telling me the truth I swear to you, we will continue this fucking conversation after I have cut off your cock and stuffed it down your throat! My name is Eric Spencer and I was thirteen years old when they transferred me to your foster home. On my first night there I caught you trying to physically abuse a sweet little six year old girl named Christine, you miserable old fuck! You were kind enough to let her go when I took her place. For three days and nights you kept me in that cellar and sliced me over and over with your knife. YOU FUCKED ME UP, BUQUET! Admit it, just admit it! You took the innocent children you were entrusted to protect and did vicious things to them. ADMIT IT!”
“Yes…,” Buquet whispered softly.
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU MOTHER-FUCKER!”
“Yes! It was me. It’s… true. I did those… bad things. I’m… I’m sorry, Erik.”
“Oh, Fuck You, Buquet! I don’t give a shit about your apology. It’s too fucking late.”
“My uncle was an extremely cruel man, Erik. He—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about your uncle, Buquet. Every family has a weird uncle, but not everyone ends up abusing children—”
“No, it’s true. I take full responsibilities for my actions—”
“Oh you’re so contrite now. It’s so good to see.”
“I wish you had killed me back then, Erik. I didn’t deserve to go on living.”
“The agency covered the whole thing up. No one paid for what they did to us. And you’re still doing it. I read it in the paper. You’re still abusing children.”
“No, that’s where you’re mistaken. I didn’t lay a finger on that boy, I—”
Williamson slammed the tip of the knife into the restraint table an inch from his ear and grabbed Buquet’s throat and squeezed.
“Oh, this gives me great pleasure to have a second chance to kill you, this time with my bare hands. I hate you so much. I hate you, you fucking bastard…”
Williamson’s arms and face shook as he strangled Buquet, until he saw the old man’s skin turn white.
“Do it! Do it! Kill him!” Williamson heard the Beast shout.
Williamson looked up and saw himself in a grimy mirror choking Buquet. Disgusted by his crazed reflection, Phillipe let go of his throat. Breathing deeply, Williamson staggered over to the mirror, covered his face in his hands and leaned his forehead into the glass.
“No! No! What are you doing, my friend? Why are you hesitating? Finish him off! He certainly deserves it. Make sure that no other child will suffer—”
“Quiet, Beast!”
“Phillipe… Phillipe…”
Williamson turned his ear against the mirror after he thought he heard a familiar distant voice calling to him from within the glass. The room suddenly became cold and Williamson’s breath fogged the surface of the mirror.
“Phillipe… I’m here. I’m watching…”
When Williamson wiped the dust and condensation off the mirror, he heard the voice call to him again, but much clearer. He looked into the glass and saw the outline of a luminescent being, reaching out to him.
“Phillipe, it’s me. I’m still here. Can you hear me? Phillipe?”
�
��Bella Lisa? My angel?”
“Can you see me?”
“Just barely. Come to me…”
“I want to Phillipe, but I can’t. I’m on this side now. I can’t come back. But I’m here. I see you. I want to help you. Let him go, Phillipe. Let him go.”
The angel in the mirror spoke in a soothing melodious tone and it calmed Williamson’s rage.
“I can’t let him go. I can’t. He’s abusing kids again. I’ve got to put a stop to it. He’s got to pay for what he’s done.”
“He will, Phillipe. Believe me, he will. But it’s not for you to decide when his time has come. What you want to do is not in the natural order of things. You’re not a murderer, Phillipe. You have to let him go now. Let him go, Phillipe.”
The Beast finally spoke up. Williamson turned his head to the empty chair in the corner of the room.
“Who do you think you’re talking to, Phillipe? It’s not her, she’s dead. She’s not real. Look at me. I’m here, sitting in the corner of the room. Don’t allow Buquet to get away with another crime against children,” Williamson heard the Beast say.
Phillipe turned back to the mirror.
“Bella Lisa, are you here? Are you real?”
“Yes, my love. I’m here. Don’t trust the Beast. He’s the one who wanted you to cut me, remember?”
“I remember.”
“You made a vow to me, Phillipe. You promised me you would never cut yourself, or others ever again, remember?”
“Yes, Angel, I do. I remember,” Phillipe said, tears slipping down his cheeks.
“You always kept your word to me, Phillipe.”
“But that was while she was alive. She’s dead now, my friend. She’s dead, she’s gone. You’re imagining it. There’s no one in the mirror!”
“Shut up, Beast!” Williamson shouted.
On the table, Buquet’s breath came in painful rasps.
“Water, please, water,” Buquet begged.
“If you let him go, I promise you, Phillipe, I will appear to you in your dreams tonight, as if I never left and I will watch over you until I feel you are happy and no longer sad and alone. I’m sorry, but I have to go now, Phillipe. Let him go and you’ll see me tonight in your mirror. I promise…”