Everyone's Dirty Little Secrets

by Miles, Matthew

  And get Chuck caught murdering someone.

  He need to calls Jason.

  Flying choppers.

  Planting evidence.

  The man has his uses.

  Dodge knows he needs to get back downstairs as soon as they hit the room, but Jaime has different ideas, sliding up behind him while he checks himself quickly in the mirror, sliding her arms around his chest, beneath his shoulders. She stretches to her tippy toes to kiss him on the back of the neck.

  Maybe he can take just a few minutes, he thinks, turning to wrap her in his arms, her soft roundness filling the cavities of his body.

  “Not yet, Jaime,” he manages to whisper, though.

  It kills him to say it.

  But this isn’t about ten minutes of abandon.

  That’s what got him into this mess.

  She deserves better.

  She lets go of him, much to his relief.

  “I know.”

  “I’ve got to run back downstairs,” he explains. “I have an idea, but I have to make a phone call right now.”

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  He knows he has to go, but he can’t let go of her, can’t stop his hand from tracing the ridges of her spine down the length of her back to the joyous places that leads.

  “Be quick,” she orders him, her own hands exploring the soft and hard parts of his body, tugging his shirt out of his pants, to run her palm over his stomach, his chest.

  “I will,” he promises her.

  But doesn’t know what she wants him to be quick about doing.

  Her - or making the phone call.

  “Dodge,” she whispers, pausing the whole universe with just one breath.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you love me?”

  At this moment, he feels nothing but love for her.

  Almost enough even to erase all of his sadness and regrets.

  “Yes,” he tells her tenderly.

  “When this is over, can we just finally be together?” she asks, in the same hushed tone.

  “Of course,” he promises.

  “Then go make your call,” she orders him, with a small sigh. “So we can get on with our lives.”

  He darts out the door, afraid of never leaving if he doesn’t just go.

  *****

  He needs to find a pre-paid cell.

  He doesn’t want this call traced back to him.

  He’s too impatient to run up and down the strip looking for a store, though. He wants to get the frame job on Chuck rolling, and get back to Jaime.

  Get back to the moment they just having, the moment they’ve been dreaming of for so long now.

  So Dodge feels surprised, and just lucky, to find a pay phone within sight of the hotel doors on the strip. He didn’t know they even exist any more.

  It hasn’t been used in a while – it’s actually blocked off by yellow caution tape blocking off a section of crumbled sidewalk.

  The irony doesn’t escape Dodge as he tears through the ribbon, steps carefully on the rough ground.

  The phone still works.

  And even better, he can see the entrance to the hotel from here.

  He doesn’t want to leave Chuck unwatched, but he has to make this call. And he certainly can’t send Jaime down there to watch him. Given Chuck’s obsession, he would notice her - any woman even remotely resembling her would catch his eye.

  The real thing would never escape him.

  Would be his next victim.

  It occurs to Dodge that Chuck is actually building himself up to go after Jaime. This may be what the murder of the woman at Checkpoint Chili’s is about. The printout of Jaime on the wall, the Craigslist searches, a murdered woman who bore a slight resemblance. Dodge watches enough Criminal Minds to know that serial killers build up to their intended targets.

  This has to end now.

  Jaime is Dodge’s. She is waiting for Dodge right now.

  If not for Chuck, Dodge would be upstairs, in her arms – in bed – right now.

  Chuck has to get caught.

  And be locked away for a long time.

  And right away.

  “What the hell?” Jason asks after he realizes who it is - from Dodge’s voice. Dodge doesn’t introduce himself. “Where did you find a pay phone?”

  “Never mind,” Dodge tells him. “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?” Jason asks, suspicious - the untraceable call always a sure sign.

  “One of those kinds of favors,” Dodge assures him. “And I need it tonight.”

  There’s a moment of silence. Dodge knows Jason doesn’t want to get involved in this - he’s avoided Dodge since the murder, not wanting to know, not wanting to get dragged into it if it’s true.

  “You’re a wealthy man, now, right?” Jason asks after a moment.

  “You can retire to an island, buy a volcano,” Dodge promises him. “Fly over it every day.”

  “Talk fast.”

  Dodge spills his plan – the fake cyber trial.

  Jason just hangs up. Dodge knows this is a yes. No need to be on the phone any longer.

  If Jason needs more convincing, he doesn’t hang up.

  Now Dodge just needs to find a woman for Chuck to try to kill.

  A prop.

  He knows what she needs to look like, at least.

  *****

  Chuck is still in the lobby bar and Dodge finds a perch in the lounge behind him where he can watch without being easily seen. Chuck would have to turn all the way around to be able to spot him, which would give Dodge enough time to duck out of view, or even dart for the slot machines only a matter of feet away.

  Dodge looks for a mirror behind the bar, making sure Chuck can’t see him in a reflection, remembering the time he first noticed Chuck, at Siobhan’s party, at the club, in the mirror - the first time he saw the man who looks so much like him that their lives have become inseparably tied together since then.

  Watching Chuck, though, Dodge wonders how this guy could pick up any girl - whether it was some drug addict in Amsterdam, a desperate Craigslist girl, or a prostitute in Las Vegas. He’s terrified of women, and after watching him for a while, even though this place is crawling with hookers - trying to pick up any single guy - it’s clear to Dodge that Chuck isn’t going to approach any women. And none, not even the bountiful ladies of the night, are approaching him.

  Dodge can’t blame them; the man radiates creepiness.

  Dodge is going to have to take matters into his own hand.

  It doesn’t take long to spot a prostitute who resembles Jaime enough to lure Chuck. They’re all blonde and beautiful, so they’ve pretty much got that going for them. The rest is just about body type, and a bonus if she has similar hair, or any facial feature that even slightly resembles something about Jaime.

  Chuck’s failure is amazing because as soon as Dodge spots a woman who fits the bill, she’s in his lap a second later.

  It’s that easy.

  In fact, it’s more than he bargained for - she’s no sooner in his lap than her mouth is pressed against his ear, offering him all sorts of pleasure.

  Within thirty seconds of her landing there, he’s willing to do everything she says.

  But Jaime is upstairs waiting for him.

  He just wants to get this over with as quickly as possible..

  “Not me,” he manages to say, before she practically earns her paycheck right there. “For my friend.”

  She eases up some. “You sure, doll? You’re kind of cute.”

  Competition is crazy around here. These girls don’t mess around.

  “I’m sure,” he promises, trying to take control of the situation.

  “You first, then him?” she asks.

  “It’s tempting,” he says. “But just my friend.”

  He slides a roll of hundreds into her hand, nodding toward Chuck at the bar. He has no idea what it costs for a hooker, but hands her more than he thinks will cover it.

&n
bsp; He just wants this to hurry up and happen.

  So he can get back upstairs.

  “I need you to show him a really good time.”

  “For this?” she asks, eyes light up. “Sure - he looks like you anyway. This’ll cover a good time.”

  “Perfect. But I need you to do one thing.”

  She looks suspiciously at him.

  “I’m not doing any funky stuff, no matter how much money this is.”

  “Nothing funky,” Dodge promises. “I need you to find out his room number for me. Repeat it out loud so I can hear, write it on a napkin, tell it to the person sitting next to you. Anything. Just make sure I know the room.”

  She looks skeptical, but he can tell by her expression earlier he’s already given her a lot of cash.

  Maybe that’s why she’s skeptical.

  But it’s also why she agrees.

  “One more favor, too, though,” Dodge insists. “An easy one.”

  “What now?” she asks, dubious as all hell.

  “Don’t tell him anyone hired you. Just let him think you’re picking him up. Don’t come on too strong.”

  “Anything else, boss?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” he tells her. “Be careful.”

  She winks back at him before walking away.

  “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promises.

  Dodge can only hope.

  *****

  Chuck sets his eyes on a woman, her blonde hair initially drawing his attention – not that there isn’t plenty of that all around him – but this blonde is a real blonde, and there’s not necessarily so much of that. So it’s the hair that catches his eye but what keeps it is the fact that she notices, and smiles back at him.

  And with nothing more than her smile, something stirs inside him, a quiver in his stomach, radiating outward, a scintillating rush when it begins, but more like an illness by the time it reaches his heart - and a poison by the time it reaches his brain.

  He smiles back at her, and she immediately stands up and drifts amiably toward him, fixing her gaze on him, hypnotizing him with her smile, with the sway of her hips. All those curves, so wonderfully displayed in motion - in slow motion - gliding toward him, remind him of Jaime.

  And why he is in Las Vegas.

  Her touch - her arm dropping easily around his shoulder, her comfortable closeness with him - are unexpected but welcome. Accelerating what Chuck immediately knows is going to happen.

  The anticipation of which is killing him.

  Never mind what it’s going to do to her.

  Even as she whispers her invitation into his ear, he marvels at his change in fortune since he stole Dodge’s identity. Amsterdam. Las Vegas. The money. The women he’s had. The woman he’s about to have. The glorious, exotic adventure of his life over the last week.

  He can’t make it last.

  He has to make tonight last forever.

  For a second, he realizes that if he’s ever going to be with Jaime, by any miraculous twist of fate, that he wants it to be different than this, that he wants it to be real. To be about love, not killing - not even sex.

  He wants the pure, unadulterated thrill of true love.

  Tonight could be that, or could be practice for that.

  This woman likes him. He didn’t lure her here with drugs, or find her on a Craigslist ad. She is smiling at him, approaching him. She is inviting him upstairs. She likes him. This doesn’t happen to him. It’s not crazy to think that a woman – a normal woman – a beautiful woman, even – might find him attractive, or intriguing.

  This happens to other people.

  It happens to Dodge.

  Dodge has two beautiful women.

  Had two beautiful women.

  Chuck looks like Dodge. He knows it can happen for him.

  It is happening for him.

  “So where you staying?” she asks him.

  “Right upstairs,” he tells her.

  “What room?” she asks, playing with his hair. “In case you try to get away from me.”

  “2714,” he offers up to her, in exchange for her smile.

  “What are we waiting for then?” she asks, before repeating the room number. “2714.”

  She leads him to the elevator, while he contemplates this woman spending the rest of her life with him.

  *****

  Dodge hears her say the room number and springs into action.

  He needs to call the cops in time to stop Chuck.

  And get back to Jaime.

  He just wants the dirty business to be done with.

  So he can get on with the real dirty business.

  He hits the button on the elevator repeatedly. Even with the elevators split so that some cover only the top floors, some the middle and some the bottom ones, there are still so many floors that the elevators take forever.

  He doesn’t know what else to do besides keep hitting the button, pacing back and forth.

  There is a woman’s life on the line here.

  Jesus Christ.

  He suddenly realizes how much jeopardy he just put this woman in – paying her to have sex with a man he knows has killed at least three women in just the last several days.

  And with that admission, with that astounding realization, Dodge really starts to panic.

  He can’t call the police from his room.

  He’s pretty much an accomplice to murder in this.

  Not some kind of hero.

  He should have been focusing, instead of rushing to get back to Jaime.

  If he calls too soon, though, Chuck will only get busted having sex with her or something.

  Dodge has no idea what Chuck’s ritual is.

  If he spends the whole night with them.

  Cat and mouse.

  Or devours them as soon as he gets them alone.

  Jackal.

  A sick feeling churning in his stomach, Dodge suddenly sees the huge flaw in the plan.

  He knows now just how much he messed up, how insanely stupid he is.

  Risking her life.

  Like she’s disposable.

  Like a set piece.

  Propping up the action, the next necessary plot point.

  He dashes out of the hotel, back toward the pay phone.

  He doesn’t care if the police get there too soon anymore.

  As long as they get there in time.

  The cops are skeptical, of course, especially since he won’t identify himself.

  Or tell them how he knows is a woman is going to be murdered.

  But he thinks his urgent insistence gets the message across.

  He makes them promise to send someone immediately.

  He wonders if he should go himself.

  But he’s afraid of being caught on security cameras anywhere near the room, or seen by the police.

  He has to trust in the cops.

  Of all ironies.

  He needs the police to save his ass.

  To stop the chaos he caused.

  Before it kills someone.

  He wonders who’s looking down on him.

  If anyone could be catching the ripple effects of his crimes on film.

  *****

  Chuck knows this is his test.

  He needs to restrain himself this time.

  But he’s no more in the door of the room, pulling his jacket off his shoulders, before she shoves him backwards on the bed, pinning his arms behind him, still half stuck in the jacket sleeves. She crawls onto the edge of the bed, and onto his chest, until her knees are buried in the valleys of his armpits, her hands sliding up his chest toward his throat.

  Crushed against the bed - helpless, adrenaline rushing through him - any restraint he hoped he could muster starts to vanish already.