Murder For Hire

by Theo Baxter

  I need to set her right. "There was no secret message in telling you we couldn't be together anymore. I meant exactly what I said."

  "How easily you lie," she countered with a smirk.

  I really wasn't following. Was she off her meds or something? The things she was saying were making no sense at all.

  "Melissa, I don't have time, nor the energy, for your games. I said we were through, and that's that."

  Unfortunately, my words meant nothing to her.

  "I'm not the one playing games, you are, mentioning your father's wealth. I know what you mean by that," she accused with her finger.

  Could you enlighten me on that as well since I don't have a clue? "What?"

  "Your threats won't work."

  "My threats?" I argued. I’d never threatened her. This woman was insane.

  "And I have something else to tell you," she continued as though I hadn't said a thing.

  Sure, why stop now? "Go on," I encouraged, hoping the next thing coming out of her mouth would make more sense. Because so far, I was in the dark. Why would she think I was threatening her, and how did I do that? The reasons didn't matter. She’s clearly unhinged, I thought to myself before refocusing on her.

  "You need to make sure, Dean, that I never have any reason to show our sex videos to your father. Or anyone else, for that matter," she said, raising her chin ever so slightly.

  "What?" I yelled before remembering we were out in the open, still on the staircase.

  "I will not let you hurt me again."

  What was this crazy person talking about? When did I ever? My mind started to spiral and then it stopped. I realized something.

  This was simply yet another one of her manipulations. For it to work as she intended it to, she needed to present herself as a victim. I was the bad guy and she only defended herself. Yeah, right.

  Although she presented everything as a mere safety measure against me since she was accusing me of wanting to harm her, double-cross her in some nonexistent way, I pegged it for what it really was.

  It wasn't bad enough that I had to deal with all kinds of shit in my life, disappointments, maybe even heartbreak for trusting the wrong person yet again, among other things, Melissa had found another way of torturing me. By blackmail.

  Fan-freaking-tastic.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  This manipulative, crazy woman was actually trying to blackmail me. I couldn't believe it. I was rendered stupid, looking at her as she continued with her act.

  "You have twenty-four hours to do the right thing, Dean," Melissa said all smugly, self-righteously as she continued her descent down the stairs.

  Do the right thing? What the hell did that mean?

  I could only stare after her. To say I was starting to really resent her for trying to additionally ruin my life would be an understatement. I can ruin my life on my own, thank you very much.

  It went without saying that I resented myself even more. I was the one who gave her this kind of power over me. Stupid asshole, I chastised, although it was now all too late for thoughts like that.

  I was to blame for everything. It was true, I had no idea she was filming us the entire time we were together, but at the moment, after this little threat of hers, that meant jack shit. The damage was done. The only thing that did matter at the moment was how to get out of this mess without my father learning the truth.

  It was obvious that Melissa was crazy, and that meant she could go nuclear even if it meant ruining both of us in the process. I was certain of that. I had to prevent her from outing us by any means necessary. I still couldn't fathom what she meant by my ‘doing the right thing’. What could that possibly be, according to her?

  Seeing how she was acting, there was no telling what she wanted. As far as I was concerned, doing the right thing could mean giving her a basket full of puppies. That's overreaching. It was, of course, yet the notion remained the same. I would have to speak to her again. Unfortunately.

  This time around, I didn't allow myself to act before thinking. More importantly, I wasn't planning on doing anything on my own. Reaching my room, I banished all thoughts of her. I pretended it was business as usual, prepared my curriculum, taught some classes, and chatted with some of my students who needed some extra clarification, which literature to use, what to focus on, and things like that. When I finished with all that, I phoned my therapist.

  "Landed in some trouble already?" she answered at the first ring.

  "Shit hit the fan," I said in return, and that made her instantly alarmed.

  "Do you want to tell me what happened now, or you want to meet up later?"

  I didn't want to wait. "Let's talk now, if you have time."

  "Of course. I'll deal with the crazy people later."

  Somehow, I did not find that joke amusing at the moment. "Thanks," I replied, relieved.

  "Did something happen, Dean?"

  Oh, did it ever. "You remember when you asked me what Melissa is planning with the videos of us together?" I started, trying really hard not to show how angry, freaked out, I really was.

  "Yes," she replied slowly.

  "I now know the answer to that question." Unfortunately.

  "You two talked again?"

  "If you could call her blackmailing me a conversation, then yes, we talked," I replied with a humorless laugh.

  "What?"

  "My thoughts exactly, Doctor."

  "What did she say to you?"

  I was happy to oblige. "She accused me of trying to blackmail her right before she turned around and blackmailed me."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I know, it's insane," I said in exasperation. "She's completely insane."

  "Okay, calm down, back up just a little, and tell me everything, word for word," Dr. Blake said in her calm manner.

  So, I did, to the best of my ability. I recounted the whole scene on the steps for her. "Melissa is crazy, Doc."

  "You know I don't like that term."

  "Sorry, I'm just so . . ." I didn't even know how to finish that sentence. I was frustrated, angry, scared, discouraged, disappointed, and a whole lot of other things. If there were a name for it, I felt it.

  "I'm so tired, feeling as though I simply move from one shitty situation to another."

  "You have every right to feel like that. Now please try to calm down."

  Easier said than done.

  "Did she say anything else to you?"

  "You mean after telling me I needed to make sure she had a reason not to rat me out to my father?"

  I then realized I’d failed to mention the most interesting thing, so I continued, "She told me I have twenty-four hours to do the right thing."

  "What did she mean by that?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine."

  "That bitch," Dr. Blake snapped, and I was really taken aback by her outburst, not that I minded.

  "Pardon my French," she added.

  "No need, I thought the same thing."

  "Do you think she simply wants to resume your relationship? And the talk about videos is only a bluff?"

  I thought about it. "I really can't say at the moment."

  Melissa showed me that she was more dangerous than I could ever imagine. It was jarring, scary that I had no clue what she wanted from me. I said as much. "I've wracked my brain and come up with nothing." There were too many possibilities. "I have no freaking idea what's on her mind, what she wants." Perhaps to her, the desire in question was pretty obvious.

  She did mention my father and his wealth. If she sought some kind of monetary compensation for her silence then I was seriously fucked. It was true I had some small amount saved, which I managed to do thanks to this job, but I needed that. I hoped I would use that money as a deposit for my new apartment.

  You won't need an apartment if you're dead, part of me felt the need to point out. That would certainly happen if Melissa told my father about us. That could never happen.

  "Good," Dr. Blake replied, snap
ping me from my reverie.

  I was instantly confused. "How is that good?" She could ask anything of me, and I wouldn't have any choice but to comply. If I wanted to remain breathing, that was.

  "Because it allows you an advantage."

  "How so?" I wasn't following.

  "You will beat her in her own game, Dean."

  "I will?"

  "Yes, next time you talk, make sure she tells you everything. Everything that she expects of you, as well as what would happen if you don't comply. You need her to compromise herself really good."

  "And then what? How's that going to help me?"

  "Because you will document the entire encounter," Dr. Blake said triumphantly. "This time around, you will be recording her."

  That was a good plan. It had a certain poetic justice to it. I liked it.

  "Nice one, Doc," I complimented.

  "And maybe, it would be prudent to retain a lawyer as well. Simply to see what your options are."

  I grimaced at that. That sounded expensive. At the same time, perhaps that was unavoidable to get out of this mess. Saying thanks to Dr. Blake for listening to me and giving me some excellent advice, we ended the call.

  I felt completely drained afterward, but instead of rest, my body had other plans for me. Of course, I had a seizure.

  I woke up sitting on the toilet, which was not the most bizarre way I'd woken up after an episode, so I counted my blessings. I felt stiff, and each muscle in my body hurt, yet I forced myself to stand up.

  I had no idea what time it was, what day, but all the same, I knew I had no time to waste. Relieved to discover it was early morning, I calculated I'd only blacked out for six or seven hours.

  Getting dressed, I went in search of a lawyer. Doing a quick internet search, I discovered there were a few lawyers available in the vicinity. I didn't want to go to the law firms. I was sure they charged too much for my taste.

  Eventually, I found one who looked adequate. His name was Michael White, but we didn't talk much. He didn't charge me for my inquiry, which I appreciated.

  Suffice to say I left the office feeling quite disappointed. By his own words, there wasn't much he could legally do at the moment without my father finding out. And naturally, that was something I was trying to avoid. He offered to play a mediator between me and Melissa, but I didn't like that either. I was sure she would freak if he came knocking on her door.

  The only thing I could do was get her on record blackmailing me, which would create some kind of an impasse. And then hope like hell that she wasn't suicidal enough to sabotage us both when I presented her with it.

  Part of me couldn't help wondering what triggered all this in the first place. Wounded pride? Hurt? Something else entirely. Who knew? Perhaps it didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was to neutralize her threat. I really prayed that she wouldn't go further with this. After all, she did depend on my father's money, even more than I did, so it wouldn't be rational for her to destroy herself in such a manner just to hurt me as well. Or so I hoped.

  When the time for our talk came, I reluctantly came home and found her on the terrace. She looked victorious seeing me approaching her.

  "Did you come to your senses?"

  I instinctively looked around to see if we were alone.

  "We're alone," she added as though reading my mind. "I dismissed the help and Carson is away. We can do whatever we want."

  I ignored her last remark, although I was happy we wouldn't be having an audience. While sitting down, I pretended to turn off my phone when in reality, I turned the recorder on.

  "I really don't know what you're talking about, Melissa," I replied, faking ignorance, except I wasn't acting. I really had no clue what she wanted. At the moment, I didn't know if I even wanted to.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. "Do not dare play games with me."

  "I'm not."

  "If you don't comply, I will show all the videos to your father. Can you imagine him seeing the video of us, different places, different positions?" she threatened like Dr. Blake hoped she would, really relishing in it.

  How could I be so wrong regarding this woman? I banished that. "What do you want from me?" I demanded in return.

  She immediately perked up as though those were the magic words she was waiting for.

  "I want everything to be as it was before." With that, she approached me to sit in my lap.

  "You want us to be together again?" I really needed her to be more specific.

  "More than anything. I really miss you, Dean," she whispered into my ear, and I groaned. I was sure my phone couldn't record that part. Crap.

  "These past days were torture." She pouted, all the while touching, almost scratching my chest with her nails.

  I felt repulsed. I didn't want her touching me yet didn't know how to stop her. I couldn't outright say anything since she was, well, crazy. Who knew what she would do then if she learned the truth? I shuddered.

  She misinterpreted that and kissed me while moaning. I sat there as she did her best to elicit any kind of reaction from me. I can't do this, my mind argued.

  I knew exactly what she would do if I didn't comply with her every whim. Show the videos to Carson. I had to neutralize that threat without whoring myself.

  You were happy to fuck her for free. What changed? I discovered she was a devil's wife in every way.

  I broke the kiss.

  She didn't look happy about it, so I was quick to say, "These past days were pretty fucked up for me as well." Technically, that wasn't a lie. Simply in a different context.

  "So, you want me too." She was overjoyed, "Oh, say yes, Dean."

  Like hell, I will. "I'm not saying no to you, simply not right now."

  "Dean," she warned ever so slightly.

  "I have a lot of work and a class to teach."

  Her whole face brightened. "I completely understand. You need to work, of course," she said generously.

  I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

  She was so fake it was beyond ridiculous. It was insane that I hadn't noticed all this before. You were too busy thinking of fucking her to notice anything else. That was true. Point well taken.

  "Right."

  "We'll be together, soon." Despite the innocent reply, there was a not-so-subtle warning in there as well.

  There is no way in hell that I will ever be with her, I vowed. I had limited time before she would lose her patience, and I hoped it would be enough to change my circumstances.

  Smiling, she stood up, allowing me to do the same. Before I left, she demanded one more kiss. I complied.

  "Bye, Melissa." I really needed to leave this house because things had moved from bizarre to dangerous.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I did my best to avoid Melissa, found all kinds of excuses why we couldn't be together. In the days that followed, I was swamped with work, had a cold, and had a seizure, so I needed time to recover and was seriously contemplating causing myself erectile dysfunction.

  I even had Dr. Blake covering for me one day. Melissa called me on the cell, probably to set ‘the date’, and when I answered, Dr. Blake started yelling.

  "Dean, I told you a hundred times that cell phones are not allowed during sessions."

  With that, I hung up on her.

  Overall, all the tactics were working . . . until they stopped. Melissa was a lot of things. Stupid was not one of them.

  The only time when I truly felt at peace was during therapy. With Dr. Blake's help, I was trying to come up with a way to stop Melissa. So far, the recording I had of her saying I needed to do the right thing wasn't enough. I’d tried recording her a couple more times, yet they were also pretty vague. I needed something exceptionally juicy to threaten her with.

  "How's the situation in the house?" Dr. Blake inquired.

  I’d really started to hate that question. "It's great. We are one big happy family," I replied sarcastically.

  "Tell me something I don't know," Dr. Blake
countered, playing along, and that helped me center.

  I took a deep breath before getting serious. "It's tense. I can handle my father, but Melissa . . ." I paused there, not knowing how to phrase it properly.

  "Is problematic?" Dr. Blake provided.

  Problematic? That would be putting it too mildly.

  I laughed humorlessly. "Problematic is when you can't find keys and you're in a hurry. Melissa is a tornado I can only hide from or face head-on and hope I will survive."

  "Interesting analogy," Dr. Blake commented, but she didn't linger.

  "Did you, by any chance, manage to get her on the record threatening you?" she asked hopefully.

  "Yes and no, but the lawyer wasn't that optimistic about my results." I would need more.

  "How come?"

  "He said it was a risky move."

  "I can see that, especially with someone like Melissa."

  "Exactly."

  "Okay, so keep that as your last resort then, and we'll try to come up with something else together."

  I was relieved I had Dr. Blake on my side. I didn't feel so alone, abandoned by the fates, with her in my corner.

  "I will continue to record everything, just in case," I provided in return. "The more times she incriminates herself, the better." Or so I thought.

  "Good idea."

  I was amazed by how easily I spoke about such things with her. That was a testament to how human beings were resilient and could adapt to anything. I was speaking of recording my father's wife as though that were the most normal thing in the world.

  And yet, there were times in the near past when something like this wouldn't occur to me, to tape someone in any form. All in hope that I would be able to blackmail her. I could not imagine my old college professor self blackmailing anyone. No matter the circumstances. God, how I have changed.

  The jury was still deciding if it was for better or for worse.

  "I'm sorry, Dean," Dr. Blake's words returned me to the here and now.

  "For what?" I asked, genuinely confused.