Vixen Investigations: The Mayoral Affairs

by Ashley Papa

  That must be the Jersey girl.

  “I love this area of the city,” Adam commented. “I think I know that graffiti writer.” He pointed to a large blue and pink sketch that read, “JONUS SIX.”

  Nobody responded to his comments, likely because we didn’t know how to respond. Instead, the rest of us watched the young girl run to Steve, jump into his arms and kiss.

  This guy is the Don Juan of New York City apparently. What the hell was it about him that made all these women so in love with him? Did he have some magical penis?

  Molly handed me the keys to the apartment and the four of us got out of the car. Molly and Leslie followed behind Adam and I as we walked casually to the building. Luckily, there was no doorman for us to contend with.

  We lingered out front for a few minutes, so the two had enough time to get in the mood. I had to make sure they were actually having sex when I busted in there. It was all about timing.

  “Let’s go. I want you two to wait down in the doorway until Adam signals you to come up,” I ordered Leslie and Molly.

  Adam and I tiptoed up the dilapidated staircase. Everything from the creaky floors and smell of garbage and bleach reminded me of my first New York City apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. It was located right next to a train trestle and every time a train went by, I feared the building would crumble down into the tracks.

  Adam had the camera ready to snap Steve in action. It was devilishly one of my favorite parts of the final exposure. When we got to apartment 4FE, I lightly pressed my ear to the door to listen for any moans. I heard a girl giggle, then a manly laugh, then silence. When I heard a door slam, I concluded that they were now in the bedroom. My heart was beating so hard with increasing excitement that the thumping sound almost deafened the noises coming from inside the apartment. I loved a good bust like I loved a good orgasm.

  “Isn’t this so fun?!” I whispered to Adam.

  “You know it. I have the coolest job.”

  I slowly proceeded to turn the lock and without making a sound, I opened the door. I could hear the two of them in the bedroom, but there was no way they could hear me. I tiptoed inside the small, yet renovated glorified studio apartment. As I passed by the bathroom that was strewn with clothes, I caught a glimpse of myself and in that instant I thought I looked as sly as the Pink Panther. Adam waited back in the foyer until I signaled that I was about to move in. I could hear the young girl in the throes of passion as I stood right outside the door. “YES, YES, FUCK YES! YOU ARE THE MAN!” Once I heard Steve explode in manly pleasure, I gave Adam the sign, and without losing a hint of balance in my towering heels, I kicked open the door with a loud bang.

  Steve and his mistress quickly turned their heads to see me standing in the doorway.

  “What the fuck?” Steve yelled.

  “Who is that?” The girl wailed.

  Adam ran up behind me and started snapping away like my own TMZ reporter. The horny couple collapsed to the bed and pulled the sheets over their naked bodies.

  “What the fuck are YOU doing here? How did you get in here?” Steve continued.

  “That’s good. Adam, go get the girls now.”

  He ran out of the room and I turned my attention back to Steve. I flashed him my Vixen Investigation badge even though I knew he wouldn’t be able to make out what it said from the bed. I had the badge custom-made in a shiny red metal. Similar to what a sheriff’s would look like, except mine was heart-shaped and read “Paige Turner, Vixen Investigations” around the heart, with my slogan “Protecting and Enforcing Vows” scripted in the center.

  “Leslie and Molly know about your secret life. It’s over, Steve,” I calmly stated while I could feel the blood from the rush surge to my face.

  “Bullshit! You with the FBI or something? I can have you arrested for breaking and entering. Get the fuck out of here,” Steve ordered without even realizing this was all a setup.

  His mistress darted to the bathroom while I remained standing in my “pissed off” pose at the end of the bed with my chin up, eyes looking down at him, and both legs fiercely locked in place.

  “I am not breaking and entering. Molly gave me your keys.” I dangled them to tease. “Speaking of Molly. I think I hear her now. GUYS, I’M IN THE BEDROOM,” I yelled.

  Molly and Leslie emerged with Adam and stood behind me like a SWAT team. Steve pulled the sheets further up to cover his body. I walked closer to the bed, which smelled like sex.

  “Molly came to me because she thought you were cheating on her. I guess your fiancé isn’t as dumb as you thought. When I mentioned to Leslie what was going on, she wasn’t surprised. What do you think of that?”

  Steve looked at Molly, then Leslie, then back to Molly.

  “Molly? Seriously? You don’t even know how to turn on a light switch,” he snapped.

  She shook her head, struggling to say something. But all she got out was a loud and Southern, “Fuck you!”

  “I can sue. I can sue you all. Like hell you will get any of my money,” Steve went on, but he looked so weak and scrawny lying there under my nose.

  “You have no grounds to sue these women. You’re the cheat!”

  Just then I felt Leslie push me aside as she stormed to the bed. She was too quick for me to pull her back. She got right in Steve’s face.

  “I am your wife,” she hissed. “But, now I am going to sue your ass. See if you’ll be able to pick up young coeds without a dime. Maybe I’ll even give half my settlement to this poor girl you led on. Maybe I’ll even launch a charitable support group for jilted wives.”

  Steve stayed silent. Molly, too, remained speechless. She was too upset to lash out again. The room became silent again. The only noise was that of Steve’s hookup rustling in the bathroom.

  “Is there anything else you bitches want to say? You women are so fucking crazy. You have too much free time to follow me around like this. I’m glad you caught me. Now I can be done with all of you,” Steve argued.

  He was a true narcissist. He justified his immoral actions by blaming others.

  “They’re not crazy, you’re crazy. To you, all women will be crazy because you drive them to be that way,” I rebutted.

  Adam escorted the ladies out of the apartment and back down to the car while I stayed behind for one last word. Steve got up out of bed, tied the sheet around his waist and walked over to me. He got right in my face but I stayed forceful and stoic. I wasn’t going to let a man like him intimidate me.

  “Anything else you got on me?”

  Any man who talks to a woman that way doesn’t even deserve to live.

  I continued to stare him down.

  “I knew from the moment I saw you what type of man you were. Your day will come. One day, you’ll be old, wrinkly and all alone. You thought your exes were bitches, well, karma is bitchier.”

  Steve just stared back at me. I reached in my pocket and reapplied the Vixen Red lipstick and then, as if leaving my trademark, gave him a big kiss on the cheek, leaving him with a bright red imprint of my plump lips.

  Case Closed.

  I hustled down the shaky staircase. I checked myself in my compact before heading back out into the street. I still looked good for having just foiled another tryst. Nancy Drew’s lucky she never had to deal with this shit.

  After dropping Leslie back home and Molly at a friend’s house, I took Adam to Blue Ribbon Sushi for some tuna sashimi and sake. It was well earned. We discussed how this was the first case that involved multiple women. Steve was a sociopath and preyed on women like Molly and Leslie. When a person is desperate for love, they’re that much more vulnerable to fall into the hands of someone who will only take advantage of them. Surely it’ll only be a matter of time before Steve finds his next victim.

  “So. What’s up with the next case?” Adam asked.

  He had just polished off four su
shi rolls and contemplated another. His love for sushi was almost nauseating. The restaurant was too quiet for me to get into the details. I couldn’t risk anyone overhearing me speaking about a potential mayoral sex scandal.

  “I meet with V-W next week…and something tells me I may have to sleep my way through the city council to get answers,” I sarcastically stated.

  We laughed but a part of us both knew, there was a high probability of that happening.

  The legalities that Leslie and Molly were dealing with were now in the hands of their attorneys and after a week of some part-time R & R at my dad’s house in central New Jersey, I was ready to swan-dive into my next big case. Well, almost ready. Since my escape back home, I haven’t been sleeping well.

  It was only 4:30 a.m. and another lucid dream had shocked me out of my slumber.

  Not again.

  I dreamt I was running very fast. When I looked behind me to see what I was running from, a giant tidal wave was rising high above me. I was in my old neighborhood and I feared that this giant wall of water was going to wash away the home I grew up in. Just as the wave was about to crash down on my world, my ex, Danny, appeared to be running next to me. I followed him into a cave. He didn’t say a word in the dream. We kept running towards a red light and then once we got all the way to it, I woke up. I couldn’t help but wonder what that dream was symbolic of. I hated how sometimes dreams play out like movies, and you always wake up dying to know what happens at the end.

  “Guess I’ll just get up,” I mumbled with extreme irritation into my pillow.

  I rolled over and grabbed my phone off the nightstand for a quick scan of new messages. I was meeting with Victoria today and a part of me was hoping she needed to reschedule. There was a random message on my Skype app that caught my eye.

  Number Unavailable (3:14 a.m.):

  Kryptonite tiger

  What the…?

  I also wondered who was sending me such a message that early in the morning. I responded with just a question mark, in hopes that I’d get some sort of response.

  Maybe it was a wrong number.

  Then, just as I was about to put the phone down, I caught an alert on my WhatsApp.

  I never use WhatsApp. Who is this?

  My heart thumped hard and I could feel my cheeks burning. Like the dream had come to life, it was a text from Danny. All it said was, “I miss you.”

  What?? Did I somehow summon him to think about me and send me a text through that dream? Not answering that text.

  I ignored the message, turned my phone on silent and rolled out of bed. I wasn’t about to let Danny’s emotional spam clog my mental inbox. I hadn’t heard from him since we broke up five years ago. Him contacting me out of the blue only meant one thing: he needed something from me.

  With a strong cup of coffee in my hands, I curled myself up in the corner of the sofa. I’ve opted for this particular corner, closest to the window so much, the cushion sank a good six inches whenever I sat on it.

  I flipped on the TV to catch the early morning news. I always enjoy watching the hot, local weatherman because his dramatized explanations of the jet stream and “warm fronts” moving in showed off his chiseled biceps. Even if he was usually wrong, he’s a lot easier on the eyes than Al Roker.

  “Mayor Wilcox will be holding another press conference today…” the cute, yet green, anchor read off the teleprompter.

  Mayor Wilcox held three press conferences just last week and none of them were about anything pertinent. One presser was about putting warning labels on sugary drinks, another about middle-schoolers being taught proper condom usage, and another on blocking Craigslist advertisements of those looking for sex partners specifically on snowy nights. It was like he was distracting the media for some reason.

  Who really calls a press conference to talk about blizzard hookups?

  New Yorkers had mixed feeling about Walter Wilcox. Most loved him, but some hated him. Personally, I didn’t care for him or his methods of governing. But for the sake of being professional I was going to have to do my best to remain unbiased.

  On the other hand, I adored Victoria. I respected all of the work she’s done for the city. She seemed to know how to put money to good use, unlike her husband. As much as I hated to admit that a man could have that much power over me, Adam believes Walter is what’s stopping me from moving back into the city. “I would never let a man keep me from doing what I wanted to do,” I’d argue with him. Adam would just smile and shake his head at me. I felt that Mayor Wilcox made the city somewhat unlivable for the average worker. It had gotten way too expensive, I ruined two bikes because of the pothole-filled roads, and the homeless population had gotten so bad, they found an “urban outdoorsman” living in my old brownstone’s basement.

  “…to reveal what many are calling his ‘astronomical budget,’” the anchor finished.

  My ears perked at the sound of the topic. I turned up the volume to hear the cub reporter state how “the FY2016 Executive Budget—totaling $123 billion—is his strategic approach to strengthen the city’s future.”

  Did he say $123 billion?! That seems like a lot for one city for one year.

  I clicked the television off and proceeded to get ready. If I didn’t give myself at least an hour to get to into the city, I’d never make it in on time for our appointment. We were meeting in Tribeca, an area of the city that was about the farthest point from where she lived on Madison and 70th Street. I heard that the Wilcox apartment overlooked Central Park and had its own private elevator with golden doors.

  I chose a little bistro for us that was allegedly frequented by Lady Gaga, Katie Holmes, and Susan Sarandon. I thought maybe there was something in the coffee that kept these power women going. The place was big enough so there were enough seats; I wouldn’t have to fear eavesdroppers. It was also small enough that someone walking by could easily pass without realizing it was a coffee shop. With acoustic versions of all my favorite ’90 s grunge songs playing, I took a seat at a table next to the window. It would be easier for me to spot Victoria rolling up. She finally did—25 minutes later—incognito. A big fur hat covered her layered bob and a pair of large Chanel sunglasses hid her almost navy blue eyes. I gave her a little smile and a wave as she scurried in and out of the frosty cold. It was my first close encounter with the first lady and I found her more stunning than on TV and in the papers.

  “Mrs. Webb. It’s so lovely to see you,” I said and stood to give her a firm handshake.

  Given that we were in a public setting, we agreed to not use her name or Walter’s name in discussion. He would be referred to as “Jim” for the moment.

  “Paige, likewise. I can’t tell you how eager I was to finally sit down with you.”

  Victoria took off her long camel-haired coat and draped it over the back of the chair. She kept her sunglasses on, but I could still make out her beautiful popping eyes and long lashes.

  After the brief exchange of how we were doing and placing our beverage orders of an Americano and a green tea latte, we got right to business.

  “I am not going to beat around the bush. I wanted to meet with you because I think Walter, I mean Jim, is having an affair,” she started.

  I looked at her with deep concern to urge her to continue.

  “There have just been a lot of things that have been off with him…” she trailed off and looked down as if billions of thoughts were running through her head. “I have unlimited funds and I want you to find out everything you can. You’re the only one I think can help me.”

  Is she serious? With unlimited funds I could take down the whole administration. This may be bigger than I first imagined.

  Victoria was convinced her husband was cheating but had no hard evidence for me, except what was in her gut. Unfortunately, our guts aren’t always right despite what we’re led to believe. She claimed that Walter had be
en acting distant and off more than his normal aloof self.

  “Jim and I have been married for 34 years. We were college sweethearts and wed as soon as we graduated from Columbia. I know him more than I think he knows himself.”

  As Victoria continued to familiarize me with their relationship, I worried that getting married so young may have something to do with his recent actions. Not all college sweethearts live happily ever after.

  “I never worried about the relationship. I’ve always been confident in our love. But, maybe since I have been so wrapped up in my own work and now that Piper is off at school, I am noticing it more. I never felt like the love was unraveling until the past few months…maybe even years. We smile for pictures and look happy in the public’s eye, but once we’re alone, he barely talks to me let alone have sex.”

  She also divulged that Walter carries around three phones. One was for his personal use, the second was a backup phone, and the third was for work. One piece of information that stuck out the most was how she had come across some text messages on his work phone that struck her as odd. While looking for a contact to send a Christmas card, she saw a message from someone named “DB.” She assumed they were the initials of someone he worked with because Walter likes to use initials when storing names.

  To hide whom he is talking to?

  It also seemed business-related as all the text said was, “You’re short $14,000…sick of this.” Walter responded with a vague, “Working on it.” Walter was also taking more trips to Dallas, but that didn’t seem suspicious to Victoria because he was close with Texas State Democratic Congressman Harvey Trumpka. He was one of Walter’s old friends from college, is extremely wealthy, and told Walter he’d support him should he ever eye a run for higher office.

  The more Victoria spoke about her uncertainties, the more flamboyant she became with her hands and arms. The diamond tennis bracelets would jingle and her giant engagement and wedding rings would clank on the table. I didn’t want to draw any attention, so decided to wrap our first meeting. I agreed to work with her with a negotiable rate. Victoria smiled in relief and out she went, leaving her lipstick-stained coffee cup behind.