by Ashley Papa
“Here, you choose what you want to watch,” he said and handed me the remote.
I really didn’t know what to put on. My instincts had me wanting to put on the 6 p.m. news or Forensic Files.
What’s something Liam would want to watch?
“Seinfeld?! This is the best episode, when George stops having sex because he thinks it makes him smarter,” he exclaimed from the kitchen.
“I went through dry spells and I never got smarter,” I argued for fun. “Must be the opposite way for girls.”
Relaxing back into the seat, I watched him pour me a glass of Pinot Noir. His apartment looked out to the East River and that iconic Pepsi Cola sign in Long Island City. He must do pretty well in banking to afford a place like this. The apartment had to have cost several thousand dollars a month. He sat down next to me and handed me the wine.
“What should we drink to?” he asked.
How about to the success of the mayoral affairs case?
“To us,” I joyfully answered.
No sooner after we took our first sip were we kissing intensely on the couch. I could taste the marinara on his lips from him sampling it. Liam started undoing my blouse while pulling me on top of him. My tight jeans made it a bit difficult to straddle him, so I stood, slowly removed them, and resumed position. He gripped my lower back with his meaty hands and pulled me in as close as he could. I wrapped my hands around the back of this head and kissed him even harder. Without leaving his lips, I ran my hands under his shirt, down the sides of his torso and around to the back. I could feel every ripple of his six-pack. His pulse was racing as fast as mine as he began moving his fingers under my red laced underwear. His touch was electrifying. He continued to gently rub my upper, inner, and outer thighs before slowly working his way up to my breasts. He undid my bra. Now I was in nothing but a skimpy pair of panties. It was clear what we both really wanted: each other. I abandoned all the concerns I had towards him and gave in to my desires. I couldn’t hold out any longer.
My eyes fluttered open to hazily see the time on the digital clock next to the bed: 7:20. I thought about the night that was. I was still smiling. Liam remained passed out next to me in what looked like a failed attempt to spoon me. He looked cute lying there with a little drip of drool streaming from his mouth. His cheeks were still glowing and I yearned to kiss the top of his bald head but I didn’t want to wake him. I knew I had to get up soon; the thought of leaving his warm, comforting bed was unappealing.
I gently reached over his sleeping body to grab my cell phone on the night table. No missed texts or emails, just the calendar alert reminding me about my meeting with Victoria back at my place. I dropped the phone down onto the carpeted floor beside me and snuggled back under Liam’s arm instead of getting up.
Just 5 more minutes.
“When can I see you again?” Liam asked.
We were both standing by the door. It was like he wasn’t going to let me out without an answer. After two more rounds of morning sex, I was now running later than I’d wanted to. Liam had the luxury of going into work late and staying later. I did not. If it wasn’t for Adam’s repetitive calls, I’d probably still be cloaked in Liam’s arms.
“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. I’ll see you when I see you,” I teased.
“Ugh…I HATE when you say that,” he whined.
I smiled, stood on my tiptoes and gave him a kiss goodbye. I’m sure he wanted to hear “tomorrow” or “whenever you’re free” like I did, but I really didn’t know.
I hopped into an Uber, which was waiting downstairs for me. As I stepped out of the building and into the sunny street, I was nearly blinded by the reflection coming off the East River. I had an hour to get home and look presentable for Victoria.
There was minimal traffic out of the city and I was able make it home just in time to change, comb my hair, and make a pot of coffee. My brain was still in a thick sex-fog when Victoria finally arrived. She looked stunning as always as she made herself comfortable in her usual spot on my couch before filling me in on her latest observations of Walter. According to Victoria, he was still acting distant. My ears perked up right as she began telling me of his anxiousness to get away to the Hamptons.
The Hamptons?
“Isn’t it a little early for the Hamptons? It’s not even April yet,” I inquired.
Walter liked to head out to the Hamptons in the early spring to pick out their summer rental. It was tradition for Victoria to stay behind because Walter liked to go out there alone to find the summer home of their dreams and then surprise Victoria and Piper. I found the routine quite odd. If he was heading out there, that meant I would be too.
Victoria continued to elaborate on Walter’s recent late-night office habits. Several mornings these past few weeks, she’d find him passed out on the couch with his personal laptop closed on his stomach.
Personal computer meant, personal server, which meant nobody had access to that information. It was the only place he could really have full privacy.
As we continued to sift through the latest findings, when Victoria handed me her latest credit card statement, my eyes were instantly drawn to three transfers of $20,000 to three different accounts. They were made through PayPal. Rather than alarm Victoria about my suspicions, I took the papers and didn’t alert her to my concerns.
Following our meeting, I felt like I had a bevy of new information to go on. In addition to what Victoria told me, I was still on the lookout for any upcoming costume parties. The lead from the mystery caller was the only knowledge I had of it. Nothing was found on Plusone.com, Adam hadn’t heard anything through his grapevine and neither did Taylor, who was always tied into the party scene.
While typing up notes and analyzing some recent headlines about the mayor, my cell phone started repeatedly beeping.
Rodney Mobile (1:15 p.m.):
See you soon, going to be up in the
Hamptons in a few weeks. You around?
Hamptons? Few weeks?
The out-of-the-blue text was a welcoming surprise. Surely if the Roches were out there, so would Mayor Wilcox.
Paige Mobile:
Rodney. I’ve missed you!
Is that an invite? Where you going to be?
Rodney Mobile:
East Hampton.
Party Time!
Will let you know.
Party time? Like a costume party? Change of plans.
Adam was originally tasked to become part of Piper’s posse as her new “gay best friend” when she returned home for the summer in a few weeks. That wouldn’t work now. I needed Adam with me but also someone with Piper, 24-7. I couldn’t ask Taylor or Theresa for they already had too much on their plate. There was only one other person who I could assign the mission to.
This is the perfect opportunity to bring April on board.
I was certain her boyfriend would have some reservations about her participating in my investigation where her task would be to act like a drunk and promiscuous sorority sister. April used to be a powerhouse drinker and partier when we were younger. That is until she and Jordan started seriously dating. She went from Robert Downey Jr. circa late 1990s to his sober, Iron Man days in a matter of days.
“I have a proposition for you,” I said to April before even letting her finish her “what’s up.” “I’m going to be spending some time out in the Hamptons with Adam in the next few weeks. The issue is Adam was supposed to be my mole in Piper’s social group. She is back from school in a few weeks…How would you like to be that mole? I will pay you,” I offered.
With the exception of a few “huhs” and “okays,” April didn’t react much.
“Are you sure you want me to do this? I know nothing about the case except for what you told me. I’d hate to mess something up and then blow the whole investigation for you,” she responded with hesitation.
“April, there’s nobody more perfect for this role than you. Remember when you went undercover with those mob wives?” I encouraged. “I want you to work with me.”
I could sense her mulling over my offer. But finally, and as I expected she would, April agreed to be the Vixen Investigation mole.
APRIL
I had been working myself like a race horse…and enjoying some quality time with Liam. We had nearly doubled our weekly time together. It seemed like we couldn’t spend more than one day apart. Sex had become more intense and we were doing it so often—some days up to four times—I decided to go back on birth control. Even though I still hadn’t opened up about Vixen Investigations, the relationship felt secure. At times, I’d pick up on his suspicions. Like, when he called me one night while I was staked out near the mayor’s house. It was just after one in the morning. Adam was driving the Jeep while I snapped the pictures of Walter exiting his building through the loading area. Rather than ignore Liam’s call, I answered. In the middle of our lovey-dovey conversation about him “not being able to sleep because he missed me,” Adam started loudly commenting about Walter taking a file from a guy on the street. It was a rather thick file. Concurrently, the sound of Adam’s voice in the background stunned Liam to the point he thought I was sleeping with another man! I blamed the noise on my loud neighbors, thankfully putting out that spark. Although he believed me and even apologized for making such an accusation, I felt like a complete asshole.
I’ve yet to find out what that file was that Walter accepted from the unidentified man on the street. All we could make out from those photos was that the man was short, stocky, and dark-skinned.
The month was nearing its end and the unseasonably warm spring seemed to have kicked many New Yorkers into an early summer mode. Weeks of stalking hadn’t revealed anything new and the mystery caller still teased me about the upcoming costume party. It was the one riddle I had yet to solve. Until last night. Adam and I were analyzing and categorizing photos and prepping April on her tasks as my mole. After feeling like this costume party was nonexistent or we had missed it, out of the blue, I got an email with a subject line that read: INVITE: Lord Max’s Annual Summer Kickoff Soirée. Right in the middle of the paperless post it also said “costume required” and it was taking place in the Hamptons this Friday.
Coincidently enough, I already had plans on being in the Hamptons this weekend after Victoria alerted me that Walter was heading out there to find their summer home, as well. I now had a massive burst of energy knowing that in less than 24 hours, I’d be out in the Hamptons partying, spying, and hopefully accumulating some major evidence in the case against Mayor Wilcox.
By 8:30 the next morning, Adam and I were back outside the Wilcox home. Parked under a “No Parking” sign, I kept my eyes focused on the entrance of Walter’s building while Adam kept watch for any cops. They say what happens in the Hamptons, stays in the Hamptons. Not when the Vixen Investigator is involved.
“My intuition tells me there are buried bones out there,” I hypothesized to Adam, breaking the silence.
“And the earth always gives back. Isn’t that what you always tell me?” he responded.
“Hey, I’m picking up on some movement in the window by the front door,” I said while zooming the binoculars even more.
Then, as predicted, Walter made his way through the revolving door and into the tinted Escalade parked in front.
“There’s our man,” I exclaimed with composed excitement and handed Adam the binoculars.
Mr. Brownstein and a security guard also got into the vehicle. The security guard threw a bag into the back.
Not a lot of luggage for three men and an entire weekend.
“Adam, take a note,” I ordered. “Suspects have no luggage. They may keep goods out there.”
He did as told as we watched the SUV start to slowly pull away. I started up the engine but before putting the Jeep into Drive, I put on my Ray-Ban aviators and tipped my fedora a little farther down so it was slightly covering the corner of my eye. The goal: to look unrecognizable.
“Who do you think you are? Eliot Ness?” Adam sarcastically stated.
“Yup. And New York City’s favorite mayor is my Al Capone.”
From 68th Street and Park Avenue where we were held up, we were now heading east towards the Midtown Tunnel. It was right when we were crossing Lexington that I remembered Pamela Roche telling me about their girlfriend who had a house in the Hamptons.
“Their driver drives like a maniac,” Adam observed.
The government vehicle weaved left and right in front of us. It looked as if it was trying to maneuver through the cars that were actually obeying the speed limit. Once we got through the tunnel and eventually onto the Long Island Expressway, the anxiety from the traffic subsided and my adrenaline was revving up. Walter’s driver must have been doing at least 85 mph in the carpool lane. I lingered back in the right lane, doing 75 mph.
“Hey, listen to this.” Adam was engrossed in a copy of the The Daily Record I had grabbed when we stopped for gas and coffee before heading into the city. “Lord Maximillian to host annual presummer costume rager at Water Mill estate tonight.”
“Let me see that.”
Adam turned the page towards me. Lord Maximillian, as he liked to be called, came from diamond money. His family owned several diamond caves in South Africa and he’d inherited the family business. He was a sleazy, aging 62-year-old with caps that were too white, skin that looked like a tangerine-colored catcher’s mitt, and he always had blonde babes with him, even though he was gay. I’ve yet to find a picture of him where he doesn’t have a beautiful woman on his arm. Adam and I both knew that this wasn’t going to be some pinky lifting, classy soiree. This was going to be a balls and tits out, “pass the ecstasy” kind of event.
Nearly two hours later, and much further east, the Escalade began to veer off the expressway, towards Bridgehampton and right into massive gridlock. I managed to keep up with the speeding SUV and was rolling in the traffic just a few cars behind. There was no way Walter could speed off.
Blue lights started flashing from a little strip on the roof of the SUV. The vehicle turned out of the right lane, onto the shoulder, and continued going up the street and passing every other sucker, like myself, stuck in traffic.
“They can’t do that!” Adam yelled. I looked at him and then back out the windshield. “He is way down there, now!”
“Of course he can do that. He can do anything he wants,” I replied loudly while mentally trying to figure out what to do next.
Crap…
We continued to creep along with the other cars. I could see that the two young men and two young women in front of me in the BMW M3 were already boozing it up. The mayor’s SUV was way out of sight, now, and I had no idea where they had exited.
Rodney! He must be out here by now.
When the line of cars came to a stop, Adam and I switched places so that he could drive and I could make my inquiries. I dialed Rodney. At first, there was no answer. But less than a minute later, he was calling me back.
“Rodney! You out in the Hamptons yet?” I answered with feigned excitement.
“Hey girly. I was about to message you. My bro and I are here. We left the wives at home. Needed some time away to see my Yankee friends!” he boasted.
I had forgotten how loud and irritating his voice was.
“What about Walter?” I pressed.
“Walter should be out there now or any minute. They left a while ago. I think he is with Dick,” he continued.
Who is Dick?
After my barrage of questions over where they were staying, where they were going and whom they were with, I was able to piece together a plan for later. Rodney had given me the exact address of where they’d be in East Hampton and, as suspected, they would be at Lord Max’s presummer soiree to
o. First stop, the East Hampton hideaway.
The one thing about the Hamptons and the eastern end of Long Island was if you didn’t know the ocean was just a few blocks away, you’d think you were in the middle of some small town in New England. All the properties were heavily wooded, which made it a lot more difficult for me to spy from the street. Even my custom high-powered binoculars couldn’t cut through the thick brush that blocked the house Walter was allegedly staying at from the street.
I parked the Jeep in a nearby marina parking lot and Adam and I walked the quarter-mile to the house. The driveway was long, but luckily there was no gate or wall to climb over. It didn’t look like there were even security cameras. I found it rather odd that the mayor wouldn’t have more security. Adam and I found a small clearing in the woods near the house that gave us a pretty good view of the back windows. I could see the Escalade in the driveway along with a black Range Rover, a silver Porsche, and a red Bentley. Despite the hundreds of thousands of dollars parked in the driveway, the house looked rather unkempt, like gardeners or landscapers had yet to be hired for the summer.
I was able to see some movement going on through the big bay windows in the back of the house. It looked like three men and two women. They were just standing around the island in the kitchen. I couldn’t make out their faces. The glass was way too spotted and the sheer curtains didn’t help the matter. Two of the men had their arms around each other’s waists and they’d appear to kiss every now and then. None of the other folks seemed to mind. It was as if they were used to the gay couple displaying their affection in public.
Then, I noticed a woman standing off to the side and the third man who had his arm around the lower waist of the second woman. This one, I could tell, was wearing a bright red halter jumper. It was so bright, I could see how well it hugged her perfect hourglass figure.