Second You Sin - Sherman, Scott

by Scott Sherman

  Jason turned back to me. “Soon enough, I realized I had a real problem on my hands. Locke wasn’t going to give up dick, and one day I was the one who was going to get fucked. Metaphorically, of course. So, I started hiring male prostitutes.”

  Locke started to get up from his chair again. “What?”

  “Sit down,” Jason ordered, and Locke obeyed. “I figured it was worth a couple of hundred bucks to get a professional to do the job. It wasn’t like the cash was coming from my pocket, after all. We had plenty of money pouring into the ministry.

  “I told Locke the boys were fans, or volunteers, whatever, and arranged the meetings. Every couple of months was enough to keep the old man satisfied. The rumors about Locke died down and I counted on the fact that confidentiality was one of the perks of hiring pros.

  “But after we came to New York, and I’d gone through a few boys for Locke, one of them approached me at the office. The one you called Sammy, I think. The kid was no dummy. He’d seen Locke’s commercials and thought this could be his big pay-day. He told me he had pictures of his assignation with Locke, and that he’d take them to the press if we didn’t pay him one hundred thousand dollars.”

  “So, you killed him, too,” I said.

  “See, I knew you were a bright boy,” Jason said.

  “But you realized,” I continued, “that the other boys were potential problems, too.”

  “Exactly right. And that was part of my job. Cleaning up after Locke’s messes.”

  Locke looked like he was going to toss his cookies again. My own stomach was queasy enough with fear that I really hoped he wouldn’t.

  “You killed them?” Locke asked, his voice quivering. “You killed them all?”

  Jason cocked his head to the side and gave Locke the sideways grin that seemed so charming to me only hours before. Now, it was chilling.

  “Just looking out for you, sir.”

  “Bastard!” Locke screamed. With a speed that surprised me, Locke leapt from his chair, grabbing the letter opener as he charged toward Jason. “Not in my name!”

  Casually, as if using bug spray on a fly, Jason leveled his pistol at Locke and shot him. Locke crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around him.

  “Oh my God!” I screamed, feeling myself becoming hysterical. “You killed him!”

  “That? Please. I shot him in the shoulder. I’m surprised he even passed out, but given what a wimp he is, I guess I shouldn’t be. No, as soon as I wrap things up with you, I’ll call an ambulance, and he’ll be good as new.”

  “How can you do that?” I asked. I was trying to get him off balance, force him to make a mistake. Up till now, he’d been unflappably cool and levelheaded. As I was a nervous wreck, Jason’s calm put me at a distinct disadvantage. I needed him distracted.

  “Won’t he turn you in to the police the moment he can?” I asked.

  “And say what?” Jason asked me derisively. “Tell them that I’ve been killing the man-whores he’s been fucking? Throw away his entire career, his reputation, just to avenge some street trash he never even thought of again once he was done with them? I don’t think so, Kevin. Locke owes me everything. I’ve been manipulating him behind the scenes for years now.

  “The only thing that’s going to change is that I’ll be able to be more open with him about who’s in charge here. It should actually make things easier for me.

  “Too bad for you, though. We’re going to need someone to blame for the shooting, you know.” He looked at me dismissively. “I guess that’s where you come in.”

  42

  I Can Do It “You’re going to try and pin this on me?” I asked. “Sorry,” Jason said. “I really did like you. Of

  course, I thought you’d be useful, too. A pretty young

  thing like you. It was clear you worshipped Locke.

  Plus, you were obviously a homosexual.”

  Not that it was an insult to be called gay, but I

  thought I’d played it pretty straight. “Really?” “Well, duh,” Jason answered. “To be fair, I’m kind

  of an expert at reading people. I hoped that by

  putting you in front of Locke, giving you some time

  alone with him, you would be the perfect solution to

  my problem.

  “You know, you’re the real reason Locke didn’t fly

  to DC today. I told him about you and he canceled

  his plans, just to meet the cute little piece of ass

  who’d wandered in off the street. What an idiot he is. “Not that I minded. My hope was that Locke would

  be attracted to you and want to keep you around. Not

  only would that make it easier for me—no more

  trolling for hustlers, thank you very much—but I’d

  have you around to helpmeout, too. You really are a

  bright kid, Kevin. It could have been a win-win for

  everyone.

  “When I walked in just now with you kneeling

  between Locke’s legs, well, I thought it all worked out

  just right. Talk about a perfect plan! Then you had to

  start screaming about murder and blow the whole thing. Or, blow thewrong thing, I suppose.” He

  laughed at his own joke.

  “Sorry to let you down,” I mumbled.

  Jason shrugged as if he was dismissing a petty

  annoyance. “It was pretty disappointing, I can tell you

  that.”

  “You had it all worked out,” I said. I was still on the

  floor, Jason still had the gun. I figured my best bet

  was to keep him talking until . . . well, I really didn’t

  have much of a plan after that.

  “I told you, Kevin, that’s my job. Making sure things

  work out.”

  “But all those killings, Jason? You were a theology

  major. You started working for Locke because you

  believed in his message of peace. How could you

  betray all that?”

  Jason threw his head back and laughed. “You

  believed all that shit? So did Locke. There is no

  ‘Jason Carter.’ I made him up. The school records,

  the family, the work history. All invented. I saw an

  opportunity with Locke and I went for it. I said

  whatever I needed to say to make Locke like me. To

  make him trust me.”

  “What about your wife and children?” I asked him. “What wife and children?” he asked.

  “The picture on your desk.”

  Jason laughed again. “Everyone falls for that one.

  That’s the picture that came with the frame, Kevin.” When am I going to learn to trust my instincts? “Even the name. Jason Carter. It’s one of the first

  rules of the long con—use a name your target will

  relate to. He’s Jacob, I went with Jason. I knew a

  narcissist like him would go for that one.”

  “You’re good,” I admitted.

  “The best.”

  “Why’d you wear the eye patch?” I had to confirm it

  was him at the hospital.

  “Why do you think?”

  “A distraction?”

  He touched a finger to his nose. “Bingo. You want

  to guess why I picked the last name?”

  I thought about it for moment. “The initials.” Jason’s smile was genuine. “Youaresmart. Those

  Biblethumpers all love them some J. C.”

  It was kind of ironic. I had social engineered my

  way into Locke’s life, and so had Jason.

  I remembered what it was like when I was Kevin

  Johnson. The approval and access were seductive.

  My double identity was a heady, powerful secret to

  keep.

  At the same time, though, it was a lonely place to

  be. People liked me, but not therealme. If they knew

  who I r
eally was, they’d never accept me.

  And everyone wants to be accepted for who they

  really are.

  They need it.

  When I was in school, I was a psychology major. In

  my first course, we studied the work of Abraham

  Maslow, whose hierarchy of needs is one of the

  most widely accepted tenets of modern psychology. Maslow proposed that all human beings have the

  same basic needs, which he placed in a pyramid

  with five levels. At the bottom are the physiological

  needs, like food and shelter. As you work your way

  up, though, the needs become more psychosocial,

  until you reach the top. There, you find the needs to

  be accepted, to be valued, to be appreciated. Without having those needs met, you can never be

  fulfilled.

  Every week, men paid me thousands of dollars to

  be with me. If all they wanted was an orgasm, they

  could jerk off and save a lot of money.

  What were those men seeking if not a person with

  whom they could feel accepted? Maybe even loved.

  For who they really were.

  Even if they wanted to dress like a clown or play

  with feet or put me to sleep with a china cup. They all

  wanted to be loved.

  Earlier, when I was trying to gain the upper hand

  with Locke, I thought that all I knew how to do was

  seduce men.

  I sold myself short.

  What I did, what I wasgoodat, was understanding

  what a man needs and giving it to him. Sex was only

  a tool I used to make him feel, even if just for a

  moment, even if it was paid for, what he needed to

  feel.

  Jason had been living a lie for many years, now. I had a sense I knew what he needed.

  Was I right?

  I’d better be.

  I was about to bet my life on it.

  I looked Jason in the eye and started to stand up. He frowned. “Now, now, Kevin. Don’t get up. I like it just fine where you are.”

  Betting that my hunch was right, I continued to stand. But as I did, I began to applaud. Jason looked confused. I was about five feet away from him.

  “Sorry, buddy,” I said, casually, as if we were still the best of friends, “but you deserve a standing ovation.” I clapped enthusiastically. “I thoughtIwas good! But that shit you’ve been pulling makes me look like an amateur.”

  Jason looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “What’s my name?”

  “Look, I don’t see the point of . . .”

  “Please,” I said. “This might be the last conversation I ever have, so cut me a little slack, OK? What’s my name?”

  “Your name,” he said with irritation, as if indulging a particularly annoying toddler, “is Kevin.”

  “No, my full name.”

  “Kevin . . .” Jason’s eyes veered to the left as he accessed his memory banks. “Kevin Johnson.”

  “Kevin Johnson,” I repeated. I held my hand out to him. “I’m going to reach for my wallet, OK. I want to show you something.”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed and he tightened his grip on his pistol. I took out my wallet, opened it to my driver’s license, and handed it to him.

  “Kevin Connor?” Jason asked. “I don’t get it.”

  “Dude,” I said, trying to sound casual, as if we were two friends about to share in a particularly funny joke, “Kevin Johnson doesn’t exist. I made him up.”

  “What? But I saw the Facebook page, the article in the paper you wrote.”

  I wiggled my fingers in the air like a magician about to pull a rabbit out of a hat. “Abracadabra,” I said. “I’m a bit of an Internet wizard.” I didn’t mean to claim credit for my friend Marc’s work, but if things didn’t work out for me here, I didn’t want to send Jason after him, either.

  “But why?” Jason asked.

  “Same reason as you, man. I smelled opportunity the minute I saw Locke on TV. I heard rumors about him, too. Including some that linked him to one of the boys who’d been killed. I figured I’d sneak my way in here, gather some evidence, and then blackmail him. Same as Sammy.

  “But after I spent some time here, working with you, I thought, ‘Why settle for a few thousand dollars? Why not go after Locke for real, set myself up as his permanent boy?’

  “The crazy thing is, Jason, I changed my mind because ofyou.I’ve really enjoyed working with you these past few days. You’re super cool, you’re smart, and I could see you’re going places. Places I want to go, too.

  “So, I was playing Locke, too. The only part I didn’t like was having to lie to you, to keep up the false face.

  “But now that I know about you, well, it’s even better. Dude, you are my hero! I want to be your Padawan! You don’t need me as another dead body on your hands. You need me as your partner!”

  Jason looked skeptical. But, for the first time, he dropped the hand he held his gun in to his side. I could see he was conflicted. Should he believe me, or not?

  I had two chances here. The first, best outcome would be that Jason bought my act long enough for me to escape and run to the police. The second, riskier move was for me to at least get close enough to him to try and knock the gun out of his hand. Then, it might be a fair fight.

  I planned on working both options. I took a step toward him and continued to play Eve Harrington to his Margo Channing. “What a team we’d be! You’ll create great plans, and I’ll make them great!”

  Jason looked at Locke lying across the desk, then back at me. “I’ve been doing pretty well on my own, Kevin Connor Johnson. Why would I need you?”

  “Because you can’t keep hiring boys and killing them forever, Jason. Eventually, you’re going to get caught. But keep me around, and I’ll make sure that Locke is satisfied on that front.” I slapped my ass. “Or satisfied in the back. It’s all good to me.” I grinned like we were two naughty schoolboys planning a prank on the teacher.

  “Huh,” Jason said. “With me around, Locke won’t need any more boys. That’s one less thing for you to worry about.”

  Jason’s face was starting to relax. So was his grip on the gun. I took another step forward, turning my palms upward, as if in supplication.

  “Think about it, Jason. You wouldn’t be alone anymore. I’d be right there, at your side. Together, we could keep Locke in line and ride him all the way to the White House!” Another step. I was at arm’s length from him now.

  “You know”—Jason nodded—“you do kind of remind me of myself ten years ago. You’re smart, you’re devious. I bet you’d make a hell of a sidekick.” He smiled broadly, his white predator’s teeth brilliant and even.

  I smiled back and extended my hand. “So, it’s a deal?”

  Jason shook his head. “You kidding? Ten years ago I was a total shit. Same as I am now. I don’t even trustmyself.Why the fuck would I trust you?”

  “Because you’re tired of being alone?” I offered. “Because you want someone who appreciates you and has your back? Because you need me?”

  “The only thing I need you for,” he said, raising his pistol toward me, “is as the dead body to pin this on.”

  43

  Sleep in Heavenly Peace When I was a kid, one of my favorite movies was The Karate Kid. The original one, with Ralph Macchio.

  Remember, I was a little guy, and a bit of a girly boy. I couldn’t help but relate to Macchio’s character of Daniel, the skinny kid who gets picked on and beaten up by a gang of upper-class popular boys. The only way Daniel can survive is by challenging them to a karate match. The bullies had been studying martial arts for years, but Daniel was a novice. The odds of him triumphing were pathetically low.

  But through his unexpected friendship with Mr. Miyagi, played to perfection by the late, great Pat Morita, Daniel discovers more than just how t
o fight. He learns about honor, principle, and that the best way to win a battle is to avoid it. (BTW, this is going to be relevant in a minute; hang in there.)

  If those things don’t work, though, he also gets the world’s fastest crash course in karate. And while all the skills Mr. Miyagi taught him turn out to be useful, the most important, the crucial move that saves him in the end, is the crane kick.

  Between the ages of ten and twelve, I must have practiced that kick at least once a day. Rewinding the DVD, I watched Daniel again and again.

  First, he raised his arms and dropped his wrists, so that his fingers were pointing down at the floor. At the same time, he brought his left knee up as high it would go, while balancing on his right foot. Then, at the perfect moment, he switched his legs, dropping the left to the ground while bringing the right one up for an explosive kick.

  I spent endless hours copying that move. I was pretty obsessed with it.

  Mr. Miyagi, in the kind of pidgin English that I don’t think would work today, tells Daniel, “If do right, no can defense.”

  As I entered my teen years, I was becoming aware of the differences between me and the other boys. I didn’t want the same things they did. I didn’t have the same interests. I was different.

  I knew it would make me a target. I was afraid.

  In an increasingly scary and unpredictable world, what I wanted, more than anything else, was one thing that, if I do right, no can defense.

  Who knew it’d be more than ten years before I needed it?

  In the movie, Ralph Macchio drags out the crane kick for the most dramatic tension. It works. You’re at the edge of the seat as you watch Macchio’s intense, vulnerable face quiver as he teeters nervously on one leg, waiting to make his move.

  Years later, when I finally took martial arts lessons, I learned there really was such a maneuver, although its basis was kung fu rather than karate. I also learned the right way to do it, which is blindingly quick. With enough practice and skill, it’s over before you’ve even noticed it begin.

  Which is how it was for Jason.

  “What the fu—” he said, as my body seemed to

  turn fluid before him. Arms up, knee high, find my balance, jump, and kick. The whole thing took place in less than a second and my aim was true.