Past, Darkly (The Dreams Book 2)

by Hunter Jones

  As if sensing his hesitation, Philancie said, “You’ll find when you have two partners, sex is no longer intimate. It becomes spiritual, a sensual pleasure instead of an act of intimacy. The bond between you and your partners will become a bond of trust unlike any other you will develop.”

  Natasha began to kiss him and he felt someone unfasten his belt. After that point, all his reserve melted away in the darkness as the three became one, beginning on the couch and tumbling onto the rug on the floor. The lips and hands were irresistible in the darkness and he wondered why he had waited for so long.

  He drifted into a dream state where he saw a young lady, tall and slender, and all alone, asleep in a room filled with diamonds.

  Bringing him to consciousness with a kiss, Natasha said, “You’re having a good time. See? We told you, didn’t we?” Then, feeling his skin, she said, “Is it possible that you’re cold? Let’s crawl into bed and get you warmed up, baby.” She took him by the hand and led him down the hallway, Philancie drunkenly following behind them. Crawling into their huge four-poster bed, Natasha motioned for him to join her under the faux fur duvet and he felt as if he were sinking into a snowdrift.

  “Are you still cold?” she asked and kissed him again, deeply this time, wrapping her sexy body around his. Her kiss was colder than ice yet hotter than fire. He felt it right down to his heart, half of which seemed like an icy lump.

  This was the biggest gamble he would ever make in his life. Yet, if it worked over the next few years, the way Natasha had explained it, it would literally pay off the remainder of his med school and he would never have to worry about money for the rest of his life. With any luck at all, Natasha’s European actor friend would pay him off and he would be free to return to Maggie. If she would have him. I really do love that girl.

  He felt as if he were dying, but only for a moment. As if thawing, he felt quite comfortable and no longer noticed the cold.

  “If you keep thinking about Maggie Pickett, you won’t get any more kisses or anything else.” Natasha giggled. “I know where you go when you get that faraway look in your eyes.”

  She was so beautiful. Natasha was smart and ambitious. When he looked into her face and listened to her plans, he could imagine all his dreams coming true. Her eyes reflected his goals and aspirations. Her family had been good to him. With their financial backing, he had made it through undergrad without any loans. Now, he would go into the future with Natasha and leave childhood dreams and HellWhole, Tennessee, as he called it, behind him. The past was over. Natasha was the future. She no longer appeared weak or transparent as she had seemed when she had beckoned to him in their youth. In his eyes, she was perfect now, and he was not at all afraid. She kept on smiling, and he began to believe everything she had ever said. She was right. He did need to stop thinking about Maggie.

  He thought about the future for a moment. Would their life together always be like this? It was a momentary illusion, soon forgotten as the girls tied him to the bed frame. Lying there on his back, Natasha kissed him once again, and he forgot the past and anything outside their bedroom. The wind began to howl outside the condo, the quiet of the night disturbed by an approaching storm. And, somewhere in the distance, the owl screeched a second time.

  From that point on, Rhett Turnquest went to school by day, and at night, he was under the spell of the musician now known only by the name Natasha.

  And now you will learn more of what happened.

  Amsterdam

  Chapter 4

  Machines buzzed and hummed with the occasional beep of the old man’s heart. James clutched himself in the doorway as he looked into the grayness of the hospital suite. The sun’s final rays filtered through the blinds, and the dust sparkled like diamonds twirling on their way to another spot in the universe. A nurse rose from a chair at the bedside and nodded to James.

  “Ben je, James?” she said.

  “Ja, but I speak English with him,” James said as he stood in the doorway.

  “Please enter,” the petite Asian nurse replied in perfect English. “He is waiting for you.” She smiled and extended her hand to him. James felt a wave of nausea overtake him and he wondered if she could see the anger and hostility he felt toward his father.

  “James...My son.” The once powerful voice of his father was now a frail, feeble whisper. Frank had told him his father was dying of cancer, and that the disease had hit suddenly and with no warning.

  That is the way he always hit me, James thought, frightened by his own resentment toward his nearest kin. He was almost afraid that he would harm the older man, but he still felt a profound sadness for this strange, lonely creature that had never truly learned to love. In a way that life teaches lessons, James had learned from this very man what not to do, so he was not afraid to give of his heart or of himself.

  A wizened hand touched that of the nurse. “Zoe, please. My son.” A finger pointed to James and he breathed deeply, then continued, “Must talk.”

  “Of course, Mr. van Lee. I’ll leave you.” He motioned for her to help him sit up, which she did by adjusting the hospital bed. Then, she gave him a sip of water.

  “Feeling better, sir?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you.” He curled his fingers and pointed to the chair. James realized he still remained glued to the doorway, as if watching someone else’s nightmare. Zoe glanced at him and gestured to the chair with a nod. “Please have a seat. Please.”

  James moved as if he were walking underwater toward the chair as bile rose in his throat. The stench of death permeated every inch of the room, yet he knew Frank was right. Hate is best met by love. This is what must be done. He had to hear what needed to be said, whether he wanted to or not.

  “James, I’m glad you came.” His father smiled weakly, never attempting to touch his son. He looked him in the eyes, paused, and continued, “I am dying and there are some things you need to know.”

  James said nothing, glancing around the room and looking at his watch. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs.

  “You hate me, and for that, I am responsible. You did not ask to be born. I created you, then I hurt you.” His voice cracked and he coughed. James was surprised at the sudden power in his voice. The older man moved his hand toward his son. “Look at me. I have lied. I have secrets. But now I tell you the truth.”

  “Why have you waited until now?”

  “Maybe you would not understand all I say until the end. That is the way of life, my son.”

  James tossed his hair over his left shoulder, tensed his neck, and said, “What lies and secrets do you hold, old man?”

  “We start from the first,” he wheezed. “Close the door and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Fantastic, he’s brought me here to kill me. James glanced around the room to ensure none of his father’s men hid in the shadows, then he stretched his long legs and moved to the door, closing it securely. Frank was only a phone call away, so that eased the tension and resentment boiling away inside him.

  The minute the door shut, his father said, “You are Russian, not Dutch.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I talk, you listen.” He glanced at James and continued, “Your grandfather was a son of Tsar Nicholas I. He escaped to Amsterdam during the Bolshevik Revolution. He changed his name to van Lee in order to fit in better among the Amsterdammers.” He pointed to the water cup on the bedside table, and James handed it to him, curious to see if he had actually lost his mind, or if there might be any truth to his story. Taking three swallows of water, he took four deep breaths and the story continued.

  “He was older when I was born in 1930,” his voice rattled. “There’s a missing Romanov diadem, a tiara. Your grandfather brought it to Amsterdam and sold the diamonds and sapphires on the black market during World War I and II. That was how he survived and how we got our money.”

  James was transfixed. Was this dementia or could this be the truth? He uncrossed his le
gs and found himself placing his hand on his father’s shoulder. Maybe physical contact will make him feel better if this is dementia.

  “You have a sweet spirit, like your mother.”

  “Thank you,” James replied.

  “You can Google all this. The missing tiara is on the internet, but the mystery continues. All that remains is the large sapphire, which was once a gift from King Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn. That sapphire was made into a ring and I gave that ring to your mother. Your grandmother said she gave it to you when you came to Amsterdam.”

  “My grandmother? Where is she? Why could you not tell me something like this?” James picked up the water cup and threw it to the floor.

  His father laughed and his weak eyes sparkled for a moment. “I knew you were my son. That too is my fault. I paid them one million dollars to move to America. They signed papers saying they would never contact you. I felt it would be the best for you.”

  “Why? They were all I knew!” James felt a tear roll down his face as he left the bedside and moved to the window.

  “It was my decision, son. They had to be made to sign the papers.” He paused. “I forced them to take the money, thinking it was best for you. I have not been a good man.”

  James placed his hands in his jeans as rage coursed through his body. So many thoughts ran through his brain that his mind snapped and quaked as if about to short circuit and blow a fuse. Finally, he said, “They are in America?”

  “Yes, but that is all I know.”

  Down the hallway, James heard voices and the ping of an elevator. The soft hush of rain enveloped the early evening when he glanced outside through the blinds. He saw the limo that waited for him and he couldn’t wait to escape the clutches of his tormentor for the final time.

  “I am a wealthy man, and I am Russian, so I know everything. I know about your men. That too is my fault. I should’ve loved you more and you wouldn’t look for tokens from others.”

  James took his left hand and closed the blinds, leaving the room in virtual darkness except for the glow of the machines that kept his father alive. He noticed the shallow breaths from across the room.

  “But you are my son, and I promise you that one day you will meet a girl and she will make you believe in magic.” His wizened eyes peered at James in the darkness, and he said, “I want you to be very careful.” He paused before continuing, “The thing you desire and love most is what will kill you.” He took four deep gulps of air, holding the oxygen tube to his nostrils. “I believe I have taught you that lesson. You have watched me chase money. Now I die alone. Hated by my own blood.”

  How long is he going to go on like this? “Is this all you need to say? I must go.” James’s voice shook as he said this and his rage surprised him. He kept his hands in his jeans in order to stop himself from hurting the old man.

  A frail hand reached for him in the darkness. “Please forgive me. I was never taught to love. I love you.” He wheezed the rattle of death and said, “You are a rich man at a young age. You have made me proud.” With that, his hand dropped to the bed and one of the machines began to flash rapidly. Zoe and another nurse bolted into the room.

  “He’s coded,” Zoe said, looking up at James.

  He looked at the ceiling as if searching for a clue, ran his hand through his hair, and said, “Do what you have to do.” With that, he walked away without looking back.

  On the way down the corridor and into the elevator, his brain raced as quickly as the monitor had a few moments ago. Why did he wait until now to tell me these secrets? The elevator door opened and he strode across the hospital lobby and into the waiting limo.

  Frank was in the back, talking on the phone, reading something that was accessed on his iPad. One look at James and he said, “I will call you tomorrow.”

  James pushed the intercom button and said to the driver, “Take us to Frank’s office, please.”

  “You don’t want to go to our place on Veltstraat? Sugar has flown in to meet us.”

  “No. I want it to be us tonight. I need space to think, Frank, not a party. He said things that don’t make sense. Right now, I don’t know if he is demented or if it was the morphine talking.” With that, James leaned his head back against the leather headrest, stretched out his legs, and closed his eyes. A warm tear slid down his cheek. Frank said nothing as they drove through the darkness of the Amsterdam night to his offices and penthouse at the Zud.

  When they arrived, the night attendants opened the limo doors for the two men and walked them into the lobby of the sleek European high rise. Frank scanned his fingerprint in order to access the elevator to his private suite that he maintained on the top two floors. Within seconds, the two men were in the main suite of the immaculate penthouse, surrounded by a perfect view of Amsterdam and the North Sea. Opening the door triggered the lights in the room to dimly glow, giving the effect of warmth and radiance to the massive suite.

  “What would you like for dinner?” Frank asked. “I can have the chef prepare something; he could be here from central city in a matter of minutes. We can make something ourselves, if you like.” Turning to face James, he placed his right arm on James’s shoulder. “Or, you can tell me what was said tonight that upset you. I will leave that to you to decide.”

  James looked at him for a moment, into those dark unfathomable eyes, yet it was as if Frank knew everything. This was one more thing that confused him. Frank was his best friend, yet they were lovers, but the relationship felt more as if it was a deep friendship. Frank had once said, “This is how men love; we don’t love the way women do.” The words pacified James, yet they didn’t give the answer he needed to know.

  “Tonight, I have to be alone, alone but with you. You take the master suite, and I will take the large guest suite, the one upstairs.”

  “Are you certain, James? You aren’t going to attempt to hurt yourself or do anything you will regret?” James saw the concern on Frank’s face.

  He took his friend’s hands for a moment, then ran his long fingers through his hair. After a while, he walked toward the refrigerated wine cellar. Opening the door, James pulled out a bottle of red. “This is one of your new French arrivals, yes? Is this the one that cost twelve thousand dollars?”

  “Yes,” said Frank.

  “I will spend tonight with this,” James replied and walked to the bar to secure the proper wine glass and bottle opener. “I will take this upstairs and drink my pain away, as the old song says, or something like that.”

  “But…”

  “But what, Frank?”

  “That’s a special reserve 2011 Romanee-Conti. It isn’t to be opened until 2017.”

  “So, what’s the problem? Your boyfriend is a rock star and he wants it now.” He looked at Frank and smiled, and Frank knew he would give him anything in the world he wanted. James stopped on the way across the room and licked the back of Frank’s neck. “See, it’s not so bad once you put everything in perspective, is it?”

  “Maybe not,” Frank said. James felt his desire for the older man growing at every touch, yet he knew instinctively that tonight he must be alone.

  “You probably have a case of this wine too? Am I correct?” James laughed for the first time in at least a day, maybe longer.

  “You are incorrigible. And you are right. Now get upstairs and start drinking. I’m going to stay down here for a while to finish some last minute contracts. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  James headed toward the elevator, turned, and decided to walk up the stairway to the top floor. Before he disappeared, Frank said, “I’ll leave my bedroom door open, should you decide you need company.”

  Once upstairs, James set the wine and its accessories down on a table close to the large bed. He had always loved this room with its gray and deep lavender hues. He found the space to be very spiritual and comforting. He removed his clothes, tossing them into the large closet. Taking a look at his body in the mirror, he glanced at himself from the front and back. He looked
like every other twenty-four-year-old guy in Amsterdam. If it weren’t for Frank, he would probably still be in that bar, hooking up with strangers. He walked into the rainforest shower and let his day wash away, down the drain and into the night. He lightly dried himself, draped the towel around his waist, and sat in the adjoining sauna to dry. He was finally regaining a sense of calm and was feeling grounded once again.

  Leaving the sauna, he dropped the towel on the bathroom floor and returned to the bedroom. He always slept nude. It was as if clothes inhibited his creativity. He sat in a chair beside the bed and his mind replayed the conversation at the hospital. So many unanswered questions remained. He took his head in his hands and simply rested them there for a few minutes, thinking. He reached for the wine bottle and opener, and it was as if he heard his father say, “Someday you will meet a girl and she will make you believe in magic.”

  “That’s what I will do,” James said aloud to no one but himself. “I will save this bottle for the magic girl, the fairy tale girl.” He stood and raised one fist in the air. “Only a weak man would drink tonight. I will save this bottle for a true celebration. That is what must be done.”

  With that, he crawled into the luxurious cotton sheets, which had already been warmed for him, and he slept like a man who had just had the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders. He suffered no nightmares, nor did he dream at all. Every breath was like a sigh of contentment. With the old man gone, his world had changed. It was as if the Devil was no longer at his door.

  In the back of his mind, Frank was afraid the stress from earlier today would trigger nightmares in James. And, selfishly, holding the younger man in his arms was one of the greatest gifts the universe had ever bestowed upon him. Frank knew that someday he would have to set him free so that James could live, love, and possibly have a real family. But he would always be there for him in case he needed him.