by BJ Hyman
“No. None were as good as you. But those last three ... let’s just say … they weren’t nice. If you want to weight it … Patrick. Patrick was the worst.” He spits out his name like poison. “He’s got an evil streak in him that makes me think he could go places. I think he could even teach me a thing or two.” He looks from the food to me as if deciding which holds the most importance. “I am glad to see you.” He goes back to his food greedily.
I find that my hands are trembling. I can think of nothing else to say. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
In my haste, I slip several times trying to get back up the embankment. I leave the rope behind. There is nothing to carry back with me.
I can’t think. I never imagined that these people I’ve chosen to be my companions, my family, could be worse than the nightmare that is Reuben. He’s the one you whisper about in the shadows. The one you lock your doors against. The one you look over your shoulder for. The one you warn your loved ones about.
But what does it mean when you can also do the things he daydreams about … or worse? What does it mean that you not only show no compassion but even resort to torture?
Should I be angry or afraid?
◆◆◆
“This is going to destroy my campaign. What are we going to do?” Senator Jefferson Serrano paces with his hands pulling at his hair. On the conference table behind him lay pictures of him and a woman in bed. Lurid snapshots caught of forbidden moments. Alongside is a handwritten note. The public relations manager for the senator, Brad March, leans across the desk to snap up the letter to read a segment of the damaging words again.
“I am pregnant and can prove it’s yours. I need $2.5 million dollars to keep silent.”
“Damn it, Jeff. Why couldn’t you just keep it in your pants?” Brad flings the letter back to the pile on the desk before crossing his arms and glaring at him.
The senator shakes his head and looks at the ceiling. “It was months ago. She’s in politics. She’s one of us. She’s supposed to know how this works. I thought she was safe.”
Brad slams a hand on the desk. “She knows how this works, all right. She played you.” He pierces the senator with an icy glare. “How did you say you met her?”
Jeff meekly sinks into a chair alongside the table. His hand lifts one of the more damaging photographs. They are both naked. He has her bent over the edge of the sofa in the hotel suite. The pleasure is evident on both of their faces. “It was at a fundraiser. She was representing a special interest group seeking support in exchange for favors. She wanted to meet after to discuss things, so she slipped a hotel room card into my pocket.” He drops the photo onto the top of the pile. He looks up at Brad beseechingly. “I checked her out! She really did work for the group.”
“I’m so glad you vetted her before you bedded her. How thorough of you.” The sarcasm drips from every word.
Mason Prescott, the senator’s assistant, puts a hand on Brad’s sleeve. “Brad, let’s not kick him while he’s down. This isn’t helping the situation. There is an offer on the table. Are we able to pay it?”
Brad jerks his arm away from him. “Mason, how much do you know about blackmail? This one request, if paid, becomes years of payments. Threats. Leaks. Things like this just don’t go away once you pay them to shut up. No. We have to take care of this.” He forcefully pokes a finger at the pile of evidence.
Jeff’s head swivels to look at Brad. “What do you mean?”
Brad lifts the pile and begins to lay the images out, side by side. Jeff rises from his chair and the three of them look at the pornographic 8x10s on display. Brad turns to Jeff. “You want these seen by your wife? Or worse, by your voters?”
Mason raises his hands in frustration. “Well, what can we do? She has evidence and a baby on the way.”
Looking down, Brad scuffs his shoe against the carpet. “I know people who can take care of it.”
“Take care of it how?” As the senator asked, the dread of hearing the answer filled his face.
Brad lifts his head to look Jefferson in the eye. “Permanently.”
Mason looks from the senator to Brad. Comprehension slams him like a train. “You’re saying we KILL HER?!!”
At just that moment, Gina Lucassi opens the door and steps in. “Senator, sorry to disturb you, but…” She stutters briefly as her eyes fall on the salacious photos. Like a pro, she forges on. “But I have need of your input on the event next week. Can you come down to my office when you get a chance?”
The three men turn and try to hide the table behind them. Jeff runs a hand over his face. “Of course, Gina. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Thank you.” With a quick nod, she turns and exits the room quickly and quietly.
Mason stumbles away from the table and goes to lock the door. “Do you think she heard us talking? Do you think she heard me?”
Brad waves a hand at the door. “I don’t think we can take that chance. Shit. This just got much more complicated.” He puts a hand to his forehead. “Jeff, I know people. I’ll take care of all of this. Don’t let anyone know that we have talked. I’ll talk to my guys and get this all to go away. I hate to lose Gina. She’s the best in the business. That could hurt our campaign, but there’s nothing for it.”
Jeff can’t take his eyes from the floor. “What if she saw nothing? Heard nothing?”
“What if she saw everything and heard everything?” The senator begins to pace and pull at his hair again as Brad turns an eye to Mason. “Are you cool? Can you deal? I’d hate to add a name to the laundry list.”
He laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, I’m cool.”
Brad claps his hands together with a startling shot. “Well, then. I say we all get back to getting this man elected and forget all about this. Pull yourselves together. You’ll hear nothing else about it. Act like nothing happened because nothing did. It’s all part of the game. Breathe, wash your face, comb your hair, do whatever you need to do to go back to normal.”
He pats them both on the back and begins sweeping all the photos and letter on the desk into a quick pile. Mason turns, strides to the door, and leaves. Brad’s eyes linger on the closing door. “Jeff, do you really think he’s okay? Is he a team player?”
Jeff looks like a man going to the gallows. “I really don’t know what I think at this minute. I’m going to shower and, maybe … just maybe … my brain will be functioning again after.” He starts for the door. “Can you tell Gina I’ll get with her as soon as I can? I don’t think I could face her right now.”
“Whatever you need, chief. That’s what I’m here for. Whatever you need.” And with that, all the evidence disappears into his briefcase before closing with a decisive snap.