Jameson Hotel: The Complete Series Box Set (Parts 1-6)

by Aven Jayce

  “What the fuck are you doing in here?” I huff, lowering my arm.

  He looks up, then resumes cutting his nails. “I went into your home office to use the computer. Did you know you have security cams in some of these rooms?” He smirks.

  “Yeah, Jack, I know.” I stand and rub my split knuckles.

  “This is my granddad?” He motions with the nail clippers toward the heap on the bed, and I nod. “Your dad?” I nod again. “Well... that sucks.”

  “Get out.” I haul him to the door, leaving a bloody handprint on his arm. “How the fuck did you get in here anyway?”

  “Jules’ master key card was on the kitchen counter.”

  Good one, princess.

  “Go back to the suite and wash up for bed. It’s late, and I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re grounded.”

  “You want my help?” he asks.

  “This is personal.”

  He stands in the corridor, giving me the once-over, and positions his foot between the door and the wall to halt its closure.

  “Dad,” he cocks his head, crossing his arms with an authoritative expression. “Life sucks. That’s what you told me. Now, you can either put one foot forward and make the best of it or be a miserable fucker and see where it gets you. Words to live by, right?”

  I love and hate that little shit.

  DECONTAMINATE

  THE WATER IN MY HOTEL never runs cold. My plan is to lay spread eagle on my tiled shower floor until I resemble a shivering kitten... I mean a pussy... a pussy that’s been abandoned in the rain. Only I’m more of the type to smoke a bowl, wash the blood off, and go back to work.

  Still, the incident in that room screwed with my head. Just a bit. A wee-tiny-bit. A little-teeny-minuscule... shit, I need a fuckload of temporarily inactive Mark time to piece my brain back together before I can do anything, and that includes remembering how to walk.

  I couldn’t stay in there. Didn’t want to look at him. I needed to get away for a while. So here I am, chillin’ on my shower floor. For now, I’ll just stay right here with water spattering my abdomen and my dick a shriveled prune. Jules will be okay with that. She likes fruit.

  The good thing is, my life-long question of whether or not my father loved me is settled—I’ve decided he never existed... and that’s the end of it. It’s too fucking painful to head down the road of always guessing, always questioning, so I’ve deserted the idea that I even had a dad. Yep. I pulled out the Windex and wiped the mirror clean. No Paul. No Abram. From here on out, I’m the creation of a virginal conception. My mother never had sex... ever, at least not with those beasts. And Sophia? Hell, she’ll always be my baby sis. There’s no way I’d ever consider her my niece. She’s my sister forever. And I’m not the product of a rape.

  Okay, who the fuck am I kidding?

  “Hey,” Jules says softly, trying not to startle me as she opens the glass door and steps inside. “I read the Jameson name on our check-in and then Jack came downstairs to fill me in on the rest. He saw everything on your private cams.”

  “I know. He’s also been sneaking around with your master key card.”

  She kneels next to me, her clothing soaked as she places a hand over my heart. “I’m sorry. You okay?”

  My head shakes in disappointment.

  “I noticed his license was expired when I cleared his information from the hotel records. I looked him up online and found an obituary from last month. He’s been planning this, Mark. Faked his own death so he wouldn’t leave a trail.”

  “Postponed his death, not faked, and I doubt he did that for me. Who’s watching the front desk?”

  She reaches for the washcloth and soap, wetting both under the stream before lathering the cloth and wiping my chest and neck. Being pampered isn’t what I need, but I’m in no mood to protest. “I called a replacement to cover for Chloe, but she’ll be returning to work tomorrow. You can’t fire her.”

  “No, fuck that shit.”

  “Mark, the last thing you need is for her to tell people she got fired for giving him a room. She saw his name. You don’t want that information to get around. Fire her in the future if she fucks up again, not over this. Don’t screw yourself just because you’re upset. And everything’s fine in the lobby, try not to think about it.”

  “You’re right.” I lift my hand to see the blood still stained on my flesh.

  “Are you hurt or is that from him?”

  I flip it back and forth to view the dried traces of my father. “Funny, isn’t it?”

  “What?” She places my hand under the water, scrubbing my fingers until they’re no longer contaminated with swine.

  “Funny that I always wished for a different Dad, and now given a choice between the two, I’d keep the original. Paul never looked so good before today.”

  “Hmm.” She scrubs, taking my other hand then gently using the washcloth to clean my face. “Cut knuckles, bloody face, and a dead man in one of our rooms. I’ve only been gone for two hours. Did you at least talk to him? You were quick, I mean, you always dive right in. There’s no fucking around when it comes to your butcheries.”

  “True.” I grin. “The longer these situations linger, the messier they become. Week-long, month-long, or year-long games aren’t my thing. My dad...” I pause, fighting to use that word. “Paul took me places to kill. Walk in, do the deed, and leave. Life’s too short to shoot the shit with a man you’re going to murder. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

  She smiles, humoring my daft rationalization. “I understand being tied down to a job that lingers makes you anxious, but this was a family member. Your dad.”

  “Dad is a relative term. It means nothing to me. Besides, all Jameson men are like this.”

  “Wrong. Don’t feed me that bull and contradict yourself. Paul controlled your entire life, even from the grave. And look at you lying there. Since when do you mope around feeling sorry for yourself?”

  “That’s not how I feel. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Lies... lies... lies...” She opens the shower door, removing her soaked clothing before walking away buck-naked.

  “Hey, a guy can have a nervous breakdown every once in a while. Now get my bowl!” I pull myself up and wash the leftover soap and blood from my face. With my palm at chest level, I watch the filth rinse away, changing from brown to clear in a matter of seconds. “Where are you?” I ask, reclining back to my original position. “I’m not fine! I’m a tortured soul and I need more drugs... and a good woman would be sharing my pain! My misery is your misery! Hustle back!”

  She returns with our laundry basket, shaking her head at my exaggerated suffering. “You’re such a numbskull, Mark.”

  “What is that... oh, nice.”

  She dumps our sex toys playfully over top of me. They bounce off my chest and onto the floor, some rolling around, a few bobbing, and a couple doing a hilarious hula-hoop dance.

  “Shit, you trying to tell me something? I don’t think I can get through all of these in one night.” I turn and see one of my cock rings fall by my side. “Although this might help during the third or fourth round. No, not my leather dog hood!” I fling it away from the water. “That and my leather mitts cost over two hundred bucks. Don’t get those wet. They can get sweaty, but not soaked.”

  She drops next to me, sitting cross-legged with a bottle of our toy cleaner in hand. My Vickie Quickie sucker is picked up, misted, rubbed, and rinsed.

  “Killing two birds with one stone?” I question.

  “If it makes you smile, yes. And you asked me to clean the toys.”

  “I was only being a dick.”

  Her tongue pearl is scrubbed from top to bottom, and one of the dildos, then another dildo, and another. She strokes each shaft under the jetting water, humming as she washes the flesh colored silicone pieces. The volume’s soothing at first, but slowly grows in intensity until it changes to a high and boisterous pitch. />
  “Watching you a moment ago was one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen, and then you had to go and ruin it with your ‘Alfalfa’ voice. Why are you singing that anyway?”

  “Jack has it on repeat downstairs.”

  “He’s listening to Cats in the Cradle?” I let out a short laugh. “I’m surprised a kid his age even knows that song.”

  “It’s a cover, not the original.”

  “I can’t hear it over the water and the fan... though I know the lyrics well... he’s just like me, isn’t he?”

  “And you believe you’re just like your dad, only you’re not.”

  “How do you know? Where you come from shapes who you are. They’re me, I’m them. Both Paul and Abram.”

  “Listen up, would you? Listen, listen.” I’m whacked with our purple Doc Johnson anal slider. “You grew up with a reclusive, bipolar mother who kept you locked away from the world, and the more I learn about your past, the more I believe she was trying to protect you. And that’s exactly who you are today—a hermit-loner, who’s fucked in the head, but will do anything to keep his family safe. Where you came from did shape who you are today.”

  “Thanks, love you too,” I say cynically. “You’re not helping by saying I’m like my mother, besides that’s not what I meant.”

  “Yes, it is. You’re just not looking at the whole picture. And don’t take this the wrong way, but your son’s disturbed beyond what I had imagined. I thought he’d settle into this lifestyle over the years, gradually, not overnight. Nothing fazes him. When he came to the lobby earlier, he was cracking his knuckles and beaming while explaining in great detail what you did to Abram... said he tried to act cool in front of you like it was no big deal, hoping you’d find him mature enough to join the next kill. He can’t wait. He’s excited, then eerily composed, then angry and rebellious... his behavior flips because he’s trying out different things with us until he gets his way.”

  “He’s also depressed.”

  “Well, he wants in. And he’s singing those lyrics like it’s his theme song, seeking attention, but still feeling ignored. I mean, it’s great that he looks up to you. However, the kid needs to level out.”

  “He’s perfectly fine in public. My son attended the best private schools back in Philly. I don’t have to keep him locked in a cage.”

  She laughs. “Not a cage, just our spare bedroom. And now that I think about it, I just realized you’re right, he has better manners than you... what I’m trying to say is he can be brutal like us, only not twenty-four hours a day. You have moments when you’re loving and kind, that must’ve come from somewhere, and it certainly didn’t come from Paul.”

  “Well, it’s not from my mother either.”

  “Fine, but you didn’t turn out this way because of one specific thing. Neither will Jack. We have multiple influences in our lives. Stop focusing on those two asinine men and think about the other people who have been around you. I’m sure Jack has a sweet side from being raised by his mom. He’s not entirely a mini-Mark. Plus, I’m going to rub off on him while he’s living here.”

  “God help the poor kid.” I move away from the splashing water and sit with my back against the mosaic wall, picking up my black dog hood that’s in the corner, and giving Jules a wink. I place it over my head and zip the neck so it’s secure before taking the anal slider from her hand, waving it high like it’s a magic wand. “I spent my entire life trying to get attention from a man who wasn’t even my dad.” I lower my arm and drop my head in disappointment. The weight on my shoulders should’ve lifted after all this shit; tonight they’re even heavier. I’m balancing larger concrete blocks than ever before. “Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.”

  “My hands were full when I carried in our toys so I didn’t bring your bowl. You want me to get it for you now?”

  I shake my head and drop my head even further until my chin nearly touches my chest. Her soft feet brush against mine, and our toes mingle under the streaming shower.

  “I never imagined I’d see you like this... didn’t even know it was possible. I’m sorry, Mark.”

  “Sitting naked wearing a leather hood isn’t all that unusual for me.”

  “The anal slider in your hand would already be in my ass if you were acting normal.”

  I look down at the sex toy and shrug.

  “That and the fact that you’re not being cocky.”

  “Rest assured, it hasn’t disappeared for long. Why don’t you go ahead and stand in front of me and spread ‘em.”

  “Oh, fucking hell. Why me?” Sophia says, with her cell in hand and an arm covering her eyes. “I can’t believe what I just saw and heard. For crying out loud, a dog hood? And why are you surrounded by that stuff! I understand owning a few playthings. But you could open a store!”

  “Why the fuck are you walking into my bathroom?” I cover my dick with two washcloths.

  “The door was open so I thought it’d be okay.”

  “And you didn’t hear the shower? What the hell, sis?”

  “Mom won’t stop calling my number. Something’s wrong. She hasn’t called in years. See, that’s her again.”

  “Don’t be such a baby, just answer it. What are you so afraid of?”

  “Why isn’t your cell ringing? What does she want?” her voice cracks in panic.

  “You need to get over being scared of that woman. Give me the goddamn cell, but don’t look.”

  “Are you crazy? I won’t look!” She smacks into the glass while trying to find her way in the dark. I reach out and take her cell, waiting ‘til she leaves to answer.

  “Mom?”

  “Mark! Why aren’t you picking up? What’s going on? Is he there? Are you still with him?”

  I lean against the wall and look toward the ceiling. “He’s gone... he’s not coming back.”

  She exhales and says, “Did he hurt you?”

  “He’s in his eighties, I think I can take him.”

  “Oh Jesus... I was so worried. Are you sure he’s gone?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Trust me, he’s not coming back, ever.”

  She’s quiet for a moment and then whispers, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t. I’m upset that you kept it from me, but don’t apologize for that piece of shit, or for what happened. That bastard destroyed our entire family. You, Paul, me. At least he never got to Sophia, not directly anyway. He fucked Paul up though, and Soph and I got to experience the after-effects of that. And it’s no wonder you’re so angry and depressed all the time. Was it an ongoing thing? Did he hurt you more than once?”

  “Be careful,” Jules says gently. “Don’t push for details.”

  “I don’t know if... I don’t know.”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Stop,” Jules warns.

  “Fine,” I sigh. “Everything’s my fault anyway. Paul would’ve been a different person if I hadn’t been born. I knew he left because of me.”

  “Not because of you, for you,” my mother says. “Paul couldn’t change no matter how hard he tried. He knew he was like his dad and that form of temptation tortured his soul and eventually took control.”

  “You’re saying he left us when I was a kid so he wouldn’t rape me?”

  “Mark, he caught you touching yourself... you were around nine. He knew it was time to leave before he did something he’d later regret. After seeing you... he just knew he was like Abram, just like him.”

  “Ah, for Christ’s sake, see it is my fault.”

  “No, honey.”

  I rub one of the leather dog ears between my thumb and forefinger, wishing I could actually feel the kneading massage.

  “He gave up and gave in. I heard from him on and off over the years, and each time we spoke he sounded worse—insensitive and numb. After a while, I hated answering his calls and then I just stopped altogether. He left so he wouldn’t harm his son.”

  “Pretend son. My childhood wa
s a sham. And you know he eventually found a boy who could’ve passed as his real son, more than I ever could. Same features as him. Did that make it okay? Raping someone was okay because he wasn’t family—he just looked the part? I bet that’s how he rationalized he wasn’t completely like Abram, because the kid wasn’t related to him.”

  “What do you mean, found a boy?”

  “That’s unnecessary,” Jules warns again.

  “I mean he molested kids, that’s what. And one in particular he wished was his son.” I cover the cell and whisper to Jules, “I’m not holding back on this shit.”

  “But not you.” She starts to cry. “Not my son.”

  “No,” I mumble through the hood. “Not me...”

  Her tears put a halt to my words. I’ve always kept certain things about Paul to myself. Like how he enjoyed watching me fuck other porn stars, sometimes staying in the room with his robe open and his hand on his dick, other times requesting that I get off in front of him, which I never did. Right now, those moments don’t seem much different than if he had touched me as a kid.

  “A bunch of sick fucks in my life,” I exhale.

  And he loved it when I was with Cove. Our first fuck was in my father’s bed. Paul was lounging in a chair, smoking a cigar, and when I finished and the cameras were off, he crawled into that bed with him. Cove didn’t come out of his room for hours.

  “Mark?”

  “I’m still here.”

  “I’m glad you’re my son.”

  “I have to go.”

  “Can you call me soon, please? I need to hear that you’re okay.”

  “I will. Promise.” I hang up and slide forward, turning the water off with my foot. My head hangs low, hands rest between my legs, and my back arches forward. “Their marriage failed because of money. Fuck. That’s the lie they told us. My mother spent their savings and my father left for that reason and because he couldn’t deal with her depression. I think he said it so many times that he came to believe it himself.”

  She moves closer and puts her hand on my thigh.