by Dancer, Jack
Needless to say, those unexpected changes in vehicular direction put a quick end to what would become one of my most sensual memories, the kind that will be rewound and replayed over and over in my mind's eye. Even the sheer terror of the unconventional ending could be likened to an orgasmic rush reserved for only gods and hanged men. My mind may one day abandon me for dementia, but I will never forget what I had the privilege of witnessing today.
After some lengthy moments, hermetically sealed in a vacuum of silence, stunned and motionless in the road's center, our bliss of peace shattered with, "Holy shit, Tucker, you nearly killed us!” which my reptilian brain interpreted as "Cops! Run for your lives! And my hand shoves the Mini's shifter into first gear burning even more rubber getting us out of there. I was certain we'd sent up a plume of burning black smoke signals that'd be seen for miles.
“And what did you expect? You were killing me even before the car decided to play pinball with the safety rails. Did you think your little performance wouldn't be distracting?”
"Well, I can't say I anticipated that such a little performance, as you call it, would cause you to give up driving."
"Sorry, I misspoke. It was a lot more than a little performance. It was beautiful and it was captivating, obviously. So captivating I lost all awareness of everything else and nearly killed us. If that's not a compliment I don't know what it was."
"Stupidity?"
"That too for sure, and I'll bet this car is messed-up something awful," I say.
"But was it worth it?"
"I think so."
"You don't know?"
"Did you have an orgasm?"
"The whole time I thought my life was ending."
"Me too. Now please put those pants on."
***
“Do you want to know why you were selected, Tucker?” she asks.
“Selected?”
“Why you were selected to be the mark. You fit the parameters, to a tee.”
“You mean I had money to be looted?”
“Not just that. There's a lot more to it than just money; though, yes, money is the main requirement."
“What're the others?”
“If I tell you, what does it get me?”
“It just might save your life. If you start being honest with me, and you help me, then, I might begin to trust you enough and help you in return.”
“Keep me safe? Make me rich?”
“That was the bargain.”
“Love me?”
“That was not in the bargain was it?”
“S'pose not but do you think it can be won?” she asks.
“I don't know, but I'll tell you this much. If you do anything, and I mean anything at all, that puts Monica's rescue in jeopardy, I'll do everything I can to ruin you and everyone near you. You will pay; I promise. Now, let me ask you again. What were the parameters for selecting the mark you said I fit to a tee?”
“First of all, money.”
“Already noted.”
“Yes, but there's more to it than just money. You might think this is some sort of fly-by-night amateur operation, but it's not. We use a very exacting method.”
“Explain.”
“The mark must either fall within the top one percent of U.S. income earners or have a minimum net worth of five million dollars. We were initially led to believe you were worth twenty million, but that was from Ebba's braggadocio. Our research confirmed you had a net worth of around five to ten million and were earning in the top one percent, so you qualified economically.
The second criteria: Is for the mark to be a middle-aged male and recently divorced from a long-term marriage - twenty-plus years. You qualified on that one too.”
“Why was that important?” I ask.
“Because those are the men most likely to be out to re-capture their youth. Buying boy toys and dating but not just dating, dating a lot and probably active on online dating services. A lot of times this is our first point of contact with a mark.”
“Makes sense.”
“Yes, but even though you are an active online dater, we targeted you through Ebba.”
“You mean Ebba is involved in your scam?”
“Only in that she brought you to our attention. Not intentionally. She was a braggart, so we followed up. You were dating a flight attendant with companion pass privileges, and that made it convenient for us. We look for those. There are more qualified marks flying with their flight attendant girlfriends than you might imagine, and we've had good results working that angle.
“Great, if flying standby and getting bumped weren't enough of a downside to flying on a companion pass, now add the chance of getting scammed by your girlfriend's co-workers.”
"Double bummer, huh?"
"On hindsight, yeah. So, it's the middle-age, divorcee, dating, rich-guy you're after."
"Yes."
"What about a guy with money who's married to a flight attendant?"
"That could work except for two things."
"Which are?"
"If they've been married for a long time he might not be willing to put up the ransom as much as if he's newly in love."
"You mean he might see it as a convenient way to let her go?"
"Could be."
"And the other?"
"Guys like that don't exist because if the FA's married to a rich guy she's probably not working."
"Oh, yeah. Okay, so it's rich guy's out on the make with his FA girlfriend."
"Those are best. The ones thinking with their dick more than their head."
"What Monica calls, dick brained."
"An affliction universal to all men and easily manipulated by a pretty face," she says like a mantra.
"But now you're suggesting the FA girlfriend is in on the scam."
"No, they're usually not. More often they're the bait."
"The Spanish Prisoner."
"Right."
"Was Ebba the bait?"
"Initially, yes. At least, she was going to be. But then there was a wrinkle when you missed the flight and ended up taking the detour with Monica."
"Detour Paris, I call it."
"Right, we didn't expect that."
"But wait. Monica said you'd called her at JFK from the plane and told her to look out for me because I'd missed the flight. That wasn't a set up?"
"Not with Monica. I simply wanted to make sure you'd get to Barcelona. Ebba seemed to think that after you had to give up your seat, you were mad enough to bag the trip altogether. So, I called Monica and asked her to help you catch the Air France flight to Paris and the connection to Barcelona. I didn't expect you to do what you did. And I certainly didn't expect you to fall in love with Monica."
"So, when you set up the limo to take Ebba and Terry and Monica to the Four Cats restaurant you were intending to snag both Ebba and Monica as hostages? As insurance that I'd put up a ransom for at least one of them?"
"Or both. And, just so you know; I didn't make those arrangements. That was James' job. He's the one who hired Juan to make the grab."
"Did you know Juan?"
"No. We try to keep things isolated so those involved don't know who else is involved, unless it's necessary to make the scam work."
"That way, if one gets busted, they can't bring down the whole crew," I say.
"Exactly."
"What about the other criteria?"
“Good guys, Tucker. Faithful, committed, all the stuff women love. We look for things like fidelity to friendship, sense of moral duty, work ethic, a traditional upbringing, a conscious, morals, all that stuff.”
“And why is that important?”
“Because it's what makes the frame-ups work. It's the law abider who cares. The fear of breaking the law, or for our purposes, the fear of appearing to have broken the law, is what keeps 'em in check, keeps their mouths shut, if you will. Good guys are predictable; crazies aren't, and the success of the scam depends on predictable marks, though I have to admit you turned out to
be pretty unpredictable. But I think that's because you're smarter than the average mark. You took steps early on to protect yourself, just in case, and that's why you've been able to turn things around to your advantage. I think you figured the best approach was not to trust anyone,” she says.
“I had a lot to protect. Still do.”
“Yeah, and no one knew just how much that was.”
“I told you, all of you. No one believed me.”
“You did, and you knew perfectly well no one would believe you.”
“One person believed it.”
“You mean Drusilla?”
“Yep.”
“She's smarter than most people,” she says.
“So, if she's not your mother, then what is she to you?”
“She was my father's other wife.”
“Other?”
“My father was married to three different women at the same time.”
“You're kidding. He was a bigamist?"
"A polygamist.”
“He kept separate, secret families?”
“Three.”
“How'd he manage to do that?”
“He was an airline pilot,” she says.
“Yeah, I guess that's convenient. Is he how you got into the business?”
“Yes.”
“If he was married to your mother and Drusilla at the same time who was the other wife?”
“A woman in California.”
“Any children there?”
“A girl.”
“Wow. And you and your mother were living in Barcelona?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Awfully close to Llivia. That wasn't a problem for him?"
“S'pose you'd have to ask him.”
“So, Pau is Drusilla's daughter by your father?”
“Yes.”
“And Tiber and Drusus?”
"From Drusilla's second husband."
“What happened to the second husband?”
“He vanished,” she says.
“Just as you'd said when you were pretending to be Drusilla's daughter.”
“Just trying to be consistent.”
“Why were you pretending to be Drusilla's daughter?”
“To protect Pau.”
“And why do you have to protect her? Does she have something over you?”
“Yes. I murdered our father,” she says matter of fact.
“You what! Why?”
“He was a wretched man, Tucker. He deserved what he got. He'd been assaulting me since I was a little girl and finally, one day I learned about him and his other families. I met Pau. We became friends, well more than friends, lovers actually. When I told her what he'd been doing to me, she was going to kill him herself, but instead we made a plan to kill him together. We were going to kill both of them - our father and her mother, because her mother was evil, and Pau wanted her dead too. But it didn't work out as planned. Pau killed our father and framed me for it, and she's held it over my head ever since. So, I have no other choice than to do as she bids.”
“Is she the reason you're involved in the Spanish Prisoner scam with the airline crews?”
“Yes. It's her operation. I just carry out everything, the recruiting of the other team members and finding the marks. I mean she's involved; if there's a mastermind, she's it, I suppose, but she stays in the background so she can't be implicated.”
“Is her mother part of it?”
“No, actually Pau is doing this to prove to her mother she's worthy.”
“Worthy of what? Taking over her mother's operations someday?” I ask.
“Precisely.”
“So, how is it you know so much about the castle and have such a close relationship with Drusilla?”
“Pau and I have been friends since we were teenagers.”
“You mean lovers?”
“That too.”
“But you're not lesbians.”
“No. We both like men.”
“Lucky for us men,” I say.
“God, Tucker, you are so predictable.”
"And why we're so easily manipulated by evil women."
"By any women."
“So, what's your relationship with Drusilla?"
"None really. Pau and I have been best friends forever. I've been to her house."
"You mean castle."
"Yeah, some house, huh? And she's been to mine. We've spent a lot of time together at both places so naturally, I would know her family, and she'd know mine."
"Did you know what an evil person Drusilla is? I mean, all the stuff she's into?"
"Pretty much. Pau told me just about everything. But then, my family was no Brady Bunch either."
"What did Drusilla think of you? She didn't resent you?
"No."
"She didn't care that you, and Pau became close?"
"No. I think she liked the connection to keep tabs on my father. She also liked me keeping Pau occupied. We got along well. But I learned early on not to cross either of them. She probably figured I was as screwed up as the rest of them and therefore, part of the family. I know it's pretty sick. They're all a pretty sick bunch. A pretty sick and dangerous bunch. Powerful too. The best way to stay alive and get along with these people is to go along. They have a very long reach.”
“You realize we're going to have to let Pau and Tiber and Drusus go at some point don't you? We can't keep 'em forever," I say.
"I know."
"Once I get Monica out of there on Friday, we're going to disappear. Drusilla will be shuttled off to someplace and released. What do you think Pau, and the boys will do when we release them?”
“If they find out I've done anything to help you, they'll come after me, and they'll kill me.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Take me with you.”
"I don't do polygamy or bigamy . . . whatever."
"Might not be so bad. My father did it for a long time. Must be something to it."
"He was unhinged," I say.
"It's not nice to point fingers, Tucker. Besides, couldn't you live with a lifetime ménage à trois?"
"Hmm, now you might have something there. Okay, on second thought . . ."
***
It was her Avia's (grandmother's) deathbed confession to the sixteen-year-old Nanette that changed her life. But for the better, who knows? She didn't think it could get much worse. The one person in her life, the one she'd trusted the most and loved with all her being - her refuge - would confess she knew all about the monster she'd created - the son she'd spawned to become Nanette's sadistic father, tormentor and lover.
She told her of her son's wife, the mother who had died giving birth to Nanette and her son's other wife, the evil witch that lived in a castle in France and who turned into a raven as black as midnight to feast on the flesh of children in the local village. She also told her of the evil witch's army of flying monkeys at her command that would swarm out across the countryside in search of princesses from nearby kingdoms, kidnap them and bring them back to the evil witch who would sell them to the highest bidders.
And the evil witch had a girl child like Nanette and who suffered from the hand of her mother just as Nanette suffered from the hand of her father. But it was not their destiny to continue suffering. It was their destiny to end the suffering by uniting and killing the evil parents. The Avia said it was the only way.
Naturally, Nanette could not believe her Avia's story though it was true her father was an evil man and tormented her and stole her virginity at the first sign of blood, but that was what fathers did, wasn't it? At least, that's what he told her. No, she believed her poor Avia must be delusional, suffering from dementia as all old people do. It was only natural.
And what about the key? The one her Avia shoved into her hand just before passing; the key she said opens the hidden door in the basement behind which lies the secrets about who she is and why her life is as it is.
The basement was jammed with all
sorts of contraptions and devices designed to inflict mixtures of pleasure and pain, but most were either too heavy for Nanette to move or so well attached that any attempt to move them would leave noticeable evidence of tampering. And even though Nanette spent a good deal of time in the basement at the hand of her father and was intimately familiar with everything, her father kept the basement securely locked whenever he was off flying the world, piloting passenger jets for Iberian Air.
Nanette's curiosity about the secrets her Avia had told her was driving her crazy, but she had no way to get through the lock and discover them. Then she had an idea. She called her father and reported a leaky water pipe and if left unattended the apartment would flood. The shutoff valves were located in the basement, and her father was to be flying for a week on this particular trip so what should she do? Reluctantly, her father gave her the code to the combination lock on the basement door. He told her to shut off the water and then find a plumber to make the fix, but not, under any circumstances, allow the plumber into the basement. She assured him she'd take care of everything and not to worry.
For the next twelve hours, Nanette searched every square inch of the basement's floor, walls, and even the ceiling. Eventually, she found a crawl space leading to a small door that opened onto a room the size of a large walk-in closet. The mother lode her crazy Avia told her about.
Did it change her life? Yes. For the better? No. It was the most horrible and devastating discovery imaginable - all sorts of family albums and files documenting her father's three simultaneous marriages. He wasn't a bigamist; he was a polygamist. One wife was Drusilla Libica of Llivia, Spain; the second, Nanette's mother in Barcelona and the third, a woman living in the United States.
There were photo albums of Nanette's father with wife Drusilla Libica on their honeymoon in Serbia and at the castle in Llivia. There were even photos of two toddlers, girls. Could the toddlers be Nanette and Julia? Nanette couldn't tell.
And that was the least of it.
One file folder Nanette came across contained multiple birth certificates for her. One listed her father and Drusilla Libica as her parents; another listed her father and her deceased mother. And still another had her father, and her Avia listed as her parents. Talk about confusing! Who was to know what's what?