This meant that Shawn was able to increase the price of his contraband. The top tier professional golf players who attended the extravagant gatherings were grandiose and generous. Many of them did not even count out the wads of cash they handed over to Shawn in exchange for cocaine. They merely dipped into their pockets and pulled out large amounts of money.
“I’ve heard this is the best blow in town,” a golfer told Shawn during a transaction. The golfer then handed Shawn a bundle of money in exchange for several small quantities of ‘white pony.’
“You won’t be disappointed, my friend,” Shawn assured him.
These sorts of deals went down all through the night and the weekends that followed. On the second and third weekend of the Wilmot Golf Tournament, Dr. Daniels continued to ask Shawn for drugs instead of money. But the money that Shawn earned was so great that he insisted Dr. Daniels take the cash instead.
“Do you know just how much ten percent is of what I’ve been making?” he asked her. “Come to your senses!”
“I guess you’re right. It’s just that the blow is so good. My girlfriend can’t go without it.”
“You don’t want her to develop a habit. Believe me, I’ve been there, Laura.”
“She’s a grown woman. I can’t control her!”
“Well you’re going to take this money, that’s for damn sure.”
“Okay, I’ll just buy some of that white pony from you.”
“No need,” Shawn told her. “You’ve been good to me. I’ll just give you some in addition to the money.”
“Great! You’ve been pretty good to me, too. Hey, why don’t you stop by my house on Saturday,” Dr. Daniels suggested.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Sure, can I bring the blow around 3?”
“Come a little later,” she thought for a moment. “Can you come at 6?”
Shawn agreed to meet her the next day. But right before leaving the Wilmot Country Club for the final Friday of the tournament, he was given complimentary tickets to attend Saturday and Sunday’s final golf game. The game was set to be televised on live network television during the day. With all of the preparation that was meant be put into this grand golf game, Shawn wondered why the players were spending the night before the big game partying until they could no longer stand.
“Guess they have more in common with me than I thought,” Shawn said to himself.
He learned that his method of procrastinating was more far prevalent in the professional world than he previously thought. Not only among professional golfers but among many of the professions that occupied his clientele. Doctors, lawyers, judges, and chairmen were all trumping their way through life. They were all the great pretenders who, upon finally climbing the ranks of their profession, did little hard work.
“Hard work guaranteeing success is a myth,” Shawn once told a class he taught. “It is the biggest myth to ever pervade the American culture. Countless individuals will spend their lives working hard and their labor will bear no fruit.”
At that point, a student interrupted and insisted that hard work could pay off. The student then listed off a number of famous names who worked hard.
“And those are exceptions to the rule,” Shawn responded. “A staunch hierarchy is in place and it is rarely broken. The life journey of most individuals is determined at birth. Those born rich will live rich and those born poor will live poor. You need only look at the familial income of students at a school like Harvard or Yale.
“Those are not schools meant for the poor. But an illusion is crafted when one out of a thousand students at Harvard gets there by a scholarship. The focus is shifted to that single scholarship student that came from nothing. That one student’s story becomes so widespread that a false grandiose image is forged. An image that says ‘if you work hard, you too can one day be enrolled at Harvard.’
“You see, some societies are simply more straight-forward about their hierarchy and some are more flexible. The caste system in India prevents their citizens from obtaining a higher social class. It is a straight forward practice with no apologies. America, on the other hand, is more flexible. The hierarchy exists; it’s merely not as visible due to the lotto-like exceptions that are made. But make no mistake, 90% of Americans who are born into the lower middle-class will live and eventually die in the lower middle-class.”
These were the moments that Shawn thought of when he attended the upper-class gatherings. And he thought that perhaps he was the exception to the very rule he described to his students.
On the final Friday night of the exclusive club’s festive celebrations before the big Saturday game, the complimentary tickets he was handed were for his “extraordinary valor and good charm towards the professional golf players and other visiting guests of the Wilmot Country Club.” The tickets generally cost upwards of eight hundred dollars apiece and Shawn wasn’t interested in golf enough to purchase them. He was, however, quick to accept them when offered.
Following the final wild night at the club with the pros, Shawn awoke on Saturday and attended the Wilmot Golf Tournament during the day and reminded himself to visit Dr. Daniels during the evening. He was given a total of three tickets and invited Lauren and Jessica to join him. They were ecstatic. He rarely invited them to conservative professional outings and they had never been inside the Wilmot Country Club. So when the opportunity arose to mingle with a higher class of individuals, they jumped at the chance. They were just as pleased to introduce themselves as friends of Dr. Steven’s.
They arrived at the gated acreage around noon. Wealthy faces crowded the expansive golf course at every turn. The audience had to number in the thousands as swooping camera cranes from various cable sporting channels flew over them.
Silence was golden in this game. No one spoke a word as the cap-wearing golfers got into position. Even reporters with microphones remained silent. The audience had to silently stand back by roughly a hundred feet as the golfers teed off. Each professional was handed a specific golf club by their caddie. The pro would get into position, focus their full attention to the small white ball, and take a powerful swing. Around two p.m. most of the golf balls had been accurately hit into the par four course, and that was where Shawn, Lauren, and Jessica were standing.
“I’m sorta getting bored of this,” Jessica whispered.
“Yeah, me too,” Lauren agreed.
Shawn was quick to game’s defense. “I’m not the biggest golf fan but try to be a little professional. You two were clamoring to join me a few hours ago.”
“That’s before I knew we couldn’t cheer or make any noises. Or even speak above a whisper!” Lauren whispered.
Lauren and Jessica grew restless following another two hours on the golf course. As the game was winding down to the final par, Jessica and Lauren wandered off. They walked off to the concession stand where they found a few young rich guys to flirt with. A few smiles and winks later, the young men were purchasing them drinks.
“Four red lotus cocktails, on the rocks,” the young man named David told the outdoor bartender.
They were served their drinks, no identification required.
“Our parents are timeshare owners,” David told them. “We all come down here to Ashmore annually for the Wilmot Golf Tournament.”
“But I get pretty bored with the game,” his brother Charles admitted.
“That’s why we’re here,” David finished for him.
“Oh, we feel the same way,” Lauren agreed. “This is boring as hell.”
They all shared a laugh and hit it off in the shade during the ten minutes that followed. Then, out of nowhere, the crowd erupted in a cheer far louder than any before. Cameras were snapping, one of the players was raising his hand in the air, and a few others were walking away. And then confetti was tossed about above the crowd. Apparently, the game had been won a day early.
Lauren and Jessica saw Shawn from afar. He was looking around, presumably for
them. They knew Shawn wouldn’t be pleased that they missed the game, and doubly so for running off to flirt with a few young guys.
So they apologized to their new friends and quickly ran over to Shawn.
“Where were you girls?” he asked, “You missed the end! That was the best part.”
“Oh, we just went to get some drinks. We saw him win from over there,” Lauren said.
“Drinks… they served you drin…”
Shawn dropped what he was saying mid-sentence when he saw Stacy Hines standing just a few feet away from him. He hadn’t seen her in so long that he almost forgot she once served as his girlfriend in order to seem more wholesome. He considered her such a bore that he typically forgot to contact her. But now she had approached him.
“Hi, Shawn!” she said.
“Hello Stacy, it’s been a while.”
“You know, Shawn. I was a little upset at first. You stopped calling me. I was hoping you’d drop by for a while until I realized you’re just not the right person for me.”
“I’m so sorry, Stacy. I can be irresponsible quite often. You really deserve better than me.”
“I know, that’s why I’ve been seeing someone else. He’s over there getting me drinks.”
She pointed over to the outdoor bar area and waved to a tall handsome man. He waved back and returned to ordering their drinks.
“I’m really happy for you, Stacy. I’m glad you found a gentleman.”
“Thanks, Shawn. I guess I’ll see you around. Perhaps on campus or perhaps not.”
Before he could get another word in, she turned away and walked over to her new beau. It was almost a surreal moment. Shawn expected Stacy to yell at him. He expected her to be furious that he had totally forgotten about her. But it was at that moment when faced with her gentle forgiveness that he saw true beauty. At that moment he saw a person far greater and admirable than he could ever hope to be.
Their conversation replayed in his head over and over. From the time they left the tournament to the time Shawn dropped Lauren and Jessica off at his house to join Dr. Daniels. He was finally able to brush the conversation out of his mind when he made it to the home of Dr. Daniels and her lover around six in the evening.
The last time he was at their place, it was approximately midnight and Shawn was too tired to take in the details of the location. Now he observed it all. They lived in a middle-upper class neighborhood and occupied a two story house. It was a rather large place to house only two individuals but Shawn knew people likely thought the same about the five bedroom house that he occupied.
Their lawn was manicured within an inch of its life and topiaries filled the pristine yard. Shawn parked his silver automobile in the driveway right in front of two matching black BMWs. He exited his vehicle and made his way up to their porch. Seconds after ringing the doorbell, Dr. Daniels opened the door.
“Good evening, Laura.”
“Hey, glad you could make it, Shawn! Come on in.”
He entered the house and she led him first through a room occupied entirely by preserved butterflies and moths. It was a collection that dwarfed the assemblage of butterflies in her campus office. She showed him around the awe-inspiring room and then took him onto a tour throughout other rooms on the first floor. There was a lovely living room, a family room, a kitchen and dining room, and an office room made almost entirely of mahogany.
After a quick downstairs tour, they returned to the living room where Shawn took in more of the room’s details. The room was well lit but made up entirely of various shades of brown. On one side of the room was a large high definition television mounted onto the wall. In the middle of the room were two dark brown sofas and a recliner of the same hue. Above the spotless fireplace was a marble mantel which showcased various photos and rosaries. Above the mantelpiece was a preserved deer head with protruding antlers. The deer’s head was showcased in a trophy-like manner.
Before Shawn could inquire any further, he was greeted by Laura’s partner. She was roughly the same height as Shawn with short dark brown hair. She was slightly younger than Laura and certainly had a more youthful dress style. While Dr. Laura Daniels wore her usual pantsuit, her girlfriend dressed in cut off shorts and a very stylish dark blouse. It was the type of top that looked as if it came from the most expensive rack on Sax Fifth Avenue. Over her clothes she wore a silk designer robe.
“Shawn, this is my girlfriend, Charlotte.”
“Nice to meet you, Shawn. Laura has told me so much about you.”
“Likewise,” Shawn said to Charlotte.
“So Shawn, you brought along a little fun with you?” Charlotte asked.
“Absolutely,” Shawn said as he patted the breast pocket of his Wilmot Country Club jacket.
“Alright guys,” Laura said. “How about I go grab a few cups of tea, I’ll be right back.”
Shawn and Charlotte were left in the living room together when Dr. Daniels headed to the kitchen.
“Lovely place,” he told Charlotte. “It’s really nice.”
“Thanks, we’ve been here for five years now. And been together for six.”
Shawn turned his attention, once more, to the large deer head that was hoisted above the marble mantelpiece.
“Do you like it?” Charlotte asked, pointing to the head.
“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about it since I first saw it.”
“That is a beautiful white tail stag,” she said. “Laura and I use to go buck hunting. We caught that one four years ago this September. A sport we no longer practice.”
“Why did you stop?”
“Buckhunting? My heart wasn’t into it. This one was our last. And our most prized. We sent it to a processing facility. It was done by a taxidermist. He did one other piece for us. That doe over there.”
She pointed in a corner to a small preserved deer that was in a fetal position. It was a beautiful creature in a small glass box that Shawn somehow didn’t previously notice.
“The taxidermy deer, the butterfly collection. I think I’m starting to see a pattern,” Shawn said.
“Actually,” Charlotte corrected him, “Laura is big on the butterflies but the deer thing was always my idea.”
“Deer hunting… not something I’d typically associate with lesbians,” Shawn said bluntly but inoffensively.
“Perhaps that’s why we quit,” she winked without another word.
Laura returned with a teapot and several cups. She sat the three cups down onto the nearest coffee table and poured the tea into each of them. She described it as Yunnan tea from India. She whisked away again and quickly returned with a plate of strawberry scones. They began eating and made small talk. The conversations turned to topics like Shawn and Laura’s illicit business deal at the Wilmot Country Club, their professional jobs (Charlotte didn’t work), and various destinations of travel.
They exchanged laughs and stories for a good half hour until Charlotte suggested that Shawn share some of the “incredible blow” he’d been selling to the high class clients he had accumulated.
“Sure,” Shawn said. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out three small bags of cocaine. One for each of them. While Shawn and Laura began making a line onto the coffee table, Charlotte pulled out a pipe.
“A bit like free-basing,” she said. “I just stuff it in the pipe with a little morphine.”
“Haven’t I warned you about that?” Laura asked staunchly.
“And I’ve told you not to worry. The key is to limit your intake. In small doses it’s perfectly fine.”
Their drug use began and the euphoria set in not long after. An intense rush. At its height- a stimulant. And for Charlotte, a sedated drowsiness followed. While only several minutes elapsed, they sat in a daze that felt as if hours had passed. It was like going down the rabbit hole.
*COUGH*
Shawn and Laura turned to Charlotte, she was gasping for air as they rushed to her side. She was trembling and convulsing.
*CRR
RUUUUP*CAAACCCCK*HUUUCCCK*
Charlotte’s throat made various sounds as she gasped for air.
THUD.
Immediately, she fell onto the floor, doubled over.
“What do I do, what do we do!?” Laura panicked.
Shawn turned Charlotte onto her back and pressed onto her chest in a motion that best mimicked CPR.
“Move!” Laura pushed Shawn’s hands away and began pounding on Charlotte’s chest. After a few tries, she stopped.
“What do we do?” Laura asked again.
“You need an ambulance,” Shawn told her as he looked at Charlotte who remained motionless.
“Fuck no! I’m not risking everything!”
“So you’re gonna risk her life!?” Shawn yelled.
“No! There’s gotta be something we can do?”
“How did it work in Pulp Fiction?” Shawn asked. “When what’s her name overdosed? You’ve got to get her heart pumping again.”
“That’s right… epinephrine should do it!”
“That’s like adrenaline, right? Do you have any?” he asked.
Laura didn’t answer; she merely left Shawn at Charlotte’s side as she ran to the second floor of her home. Shawn continued to perform CPR while he heard Laura rummaging through various rooms. He could hear boxes, drawers, and bottles all being knocked to the floor and thrown aside. Moments later Laura returned with a syringe in one hand and a small liquid vial in the other.
“I need you to do it!” she told Shawn.
“Why can’t you do it!?”
“I’m not good with needles.”
“Give it to me!” he insisted. Laura handed him the two items. Shawn stuck the needle into the vial and used it to suction the contents into the syringe.
“Where do I shoot it?” Shawn asked.
“In the upper chest area. You’ve got to do it quick.”
Without hesitation, Shawn plunged the needle into her chest. Below the clavicle but above the breast. He shot the contents right into her and removed the needle.
The Hedonist Page 11