The Dark Scarlett

by Aven Jayce

“This time, yes,” I pause. “She’s with her brother, Mark Jameson.”

  Alyssa’s eyes widen as she lifts her head from Haverty’s chest. “Her brother? Nuh-uh. The one she said would laugh if an iron fence post speared her? Sounded like she hated him.”

  “He’s Marcus Wild.”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Cove...” Haverty shows concern, but I cut him off.

  “She left a message that she was fine and would be home soon. And I’m not gonna lie, I’m nervous about the whole set of circumstances, but if she comes back to me...” I look down at Prudence with a smile and think of the twin boys in the street. “If this isn’t some sick Jameson plot to get the best of me, take the money and run... if she comes back, then she loves me, and all is well.”

  “Why the fuck was he harassing you?” Haverty asks.

  “It’s a long story that I’m just starting to figure out. But my mother, believe it or not, has been able to sum everything up about him without even knowing the full story.”

  “Your mother’s incredibly perceptive about the world around her,” Haverty says. “She just pretends not to be when your father’s around, like a lot of women from her generation.”

  I nod. “She referred to Mark as the ghost from A Christmas Carol.”

  “Is he the past, present, or future ghost?” Alyssa asks.

  “All three, I think.”

  “So, did he transform you?” Haverty questions.

  “We’ll see,” I say as the elevator opens and I unlock the door to our penthouse. Alyssa’s eyes are even larger now as she grips Haverty’s arm.

  “For realz, Cove? Your home’s beautiful.”

  I drop my keys on the counter and show them the guest suite as the dogs sniff the furniture in excitement, leaving drool and slobber on our hardwood floor. “Feel free to use the kitchen and don’t hesitate to ask for anything.” The dogs jump on the bed and pant while Alyssa lies next to them, slipping off her sandals and petting their big stomachs.

  Haverty extends his hand and I push it away to replace the handshake with an embrace.

  “I’m sorry, Buddy,” I say. “You guys are welcome to stay for as long as you’d like.”

  I see Max out of the corner of my eye jump down and lift his leg on the side of my grandmother’s antique dresser. Alyssa scolds him and Haverty shakes his head at the scene.

  “You sure about that?” he says.

  “Maybe you and Alyssa can stay, and your beasts can hang out in the pool room or on the terrace,” I say, only half-kidding.

  They offer to clean up the mess but I insist on taking care of it then close the door to give them privacy for the evening. I’m sure Haverty will need some time to grieve. I’ll help him figure out the funeral arrangements when he’s ready.

  Now, where the fuck’s my wife?

  I try Mark’s cell again, but there’s no answer. All I can do is wait and try to stay calm, which everyone knows is like... well, like telling Max not to piss on a dresser; it’s not gonna happen.

  What I need is a distraction while I play the waiting game, change out of my wet clothing, and to chill the fuck out. I head upstairs to our bedroom, take a hot shower, slip into a clean pair of boxers, and turn down the bed. Fuck, that took a whopping fifteen minutes, now what? I exhale and call my parents, giving them an update and then try Mark again.

  “Answer your goddamn cell, you dick.”

  Nothing. Where are you, Sophia?

  The bed’s empty and cold without her, and the house is extremely quiet. Even with Haverty, Alyssa, and the dogs downstairs, it’s just too still. It’d make my day to have her in this room, jumping around and shouting, “potatoes!”

  That daydream of her at least puts a smile on my face, and as I lounge in bed with my back against the headboard, I decide to use the iPad to see if I can find more information about her brother.

  Again... nothing. It’s like he doesn’t exist. The Jameson Industries porn site has no photo or any detailed information about him, and the contact page has a generic email. With the number of Mark Jamesons in this world, and after scrolling through ten pages of search results, I give up and move on to something more important... my wife’s Facebook page. I want to see her ‘face.’

  She’s signed in, and I can see more posts now than when I was in my office. Shit, she has a lot of friends. There’re sixty comments from people I’ve never even heard of, telling her how beautiful she looks in the new green dress she bought the other day. And they’re right, it’s a beautiful selfie and she’s puckering her lips, looking all badass in the shot. My wife’s fucking hot. I click some of the names and see most of the people are from her hometown of Philly or Temple University where she attended college. They must be random acquaintances. I’ve overheard people at the Scarlett mention only around ten percent of their friends on Facebook are people they actually hang out with in real life, and the rest are, I’ll use a Fight Club term for it, ‘single-serving friends.’

  My body jolts when my cell rings and I tap the answer button as rapidly as humanly possible.

  “Hello?”

  “Ahh, now that’s a civilized way to answer your phone. So you’ve learned how to show some respect to your elders finally?”

  “Listen, Mark. You sick, twisted...”

  “Whoa, now. Hold on. I was calling to apologize. My baby sister’s given me shit all night about the fun you and I had together over the past two days. I guess I should’ve kept our play dates a secret.”

  “Where is she?”

  “On her way up.”

  I release a breath and close my eyes. “Alone?” I ask.

  “Umm, she has a few childhood friends with her, but more or less, yeah, she’s alone.”

  “You know, if I ever see you again... you dumbass... you put me through hell... I’d love to pound my fist into your face. I think I’ll rip your eyes out and shove them up your ass.”

  “Whoa, whoa, the violence, Cove,” he laughs. “Besides, little Sophie already gave me a good shiner. I forgot how tough my sister is, which is good because I know she’ll do the same to your face if you ever fuck with her.”

  “You better not have hurt her.”

  “I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

  “No? You grabbed my broken fingers, clenched my nuts, and stalked me, but you’re not going to hurt anyone?”

  “Actually, the fingers were a mistake, if you must know. I was trying to hold your hand. And your nuts, well, I was only challenging you. It was a massage, not a clench, and you didn’t let me get very far anyway. I thought you might enjoy it, like old times. Thought you might cheat on your wife, but you didn’t. You passed my other test as well. You declined my offer to make a bundle working for my company. I think you’ll make a good husband for my sister.”

  “Jesus,” I pace and do my classic hand in the hair move, frustrated by his words. “So, you gonna run Jameson Industries like your father, ‘cause the way you treated me, you’re just as disturbed as he was.”

  “And I already told you that hurts my feelings. God, I wanted us to spend some quality time together, but I guess I fucked up. You know, I’ve got my mother and father’s genes inside of me, and considering that I was molded from the two of them, I’m actually quite sane.”

  I hear our front door open and the wheels of a suitcase slide along the floor. “She’s here,” I say, relieved.

  “Good. She’s a special girl. Take good care of her.”

  “You home?” Sophia calls out.

  “And Cove,” Mark says. “I’m sorry for a lot of things, but mainly I’m sorry about my father. He was a sick bastard and I should’ve helped you get the fuck away from him, but I didn’t. I want you to know I did try to set things right in the end.”

  “How so?”

  “David Rosen.”

  “Did you kill him?” I whisper, sliding my hand down my face as I hear Sophia dragging the suitcase up the stairs. “I’ll never believe a man with David’s personality killed himself.
No matter what the cops say.”

  “Sometimes, Cove. You just never know what happens to people.”

  Sophia stands in the doorway with an expression of worry and regret on her face.

  “It’s all over now,” he says and ends the call. I lay my cell down and scan my wife’s body from head to toe. She’s alright.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

  “It’s not your fault, Dove. You did nothing wrong. You’re the normal one in the family.”

  “No one’s ever called me normal before,” she says in a quiet voice while looking into my eyes. “Are you okay? Mark can be... well, I should say, he’s insane.”

  “Wild,” I respond.

  “Wild Monkey. It’s what my mother used to call him when we were young, only he always thought she was saying Wild Marky. That’s why Marcus Wild sounded somewhat familiar to me,” she says, still standing at a distance.

  That space between us is killing me and I feel detached, as if we’re speaking to one another on a cell instead of in the same room. She should be in my arms. “I need to hold you,” I whisper. “Come closer,” I lift an arm and she releases the handle of the suitcase, sashaying her sweet ass and wrapping her arms securely around my body. Thank God. After a kiss to the top of her head, down the side of her face, and to her soft lips, she’s mine again. “I love you so much, Sophia.”

  She tightens her arms and puts her head against my chest. “I’m glad you’re not upset with me. I told the police to make sure you knew I was fine, and then I left a message. Did you get it?”

  “I did.”

  “He was such a dick when he called you, I heard him, and I couldn’t get the cell out of his hand.”

  “What did he want?”

  One of the bulldogs lets out a bark and Sophia jumps with a quick turn toward the stairwell. I hear the guest suite open and the dogs’ toenails clack on our hardwood floor.

  “It’s Haverty,” I whisper. The front door opens and it sounds like he’s taking them out for their final walk of the night. “His mother passed away.”

  She exhales. “Oh my God. What happened?”

  “Alyssa said it was probably a heart attack.”

  “Why is he here?”

  “They’re both here... Hell Soph, you have no idea what I saw tonight... they’ve been living in a house that’s caving in on itself, with no electricity, nothing. I’m sick to my stomach with the thought that he was in my life each and every day, and I never knew.”

  She sits on the bed and covers her mouth; her eyes in pain as she listens to me describe the place, the leaks, the neighborhood, and the scene with his mother. We make a plan to offer them assistance with whatever they need to get back on their feet. Support for their grief; help with the arrangements, getting their electricity back on, the house cleaned and in order, and care for the upcoming weeks until we figure out a long-term solution. I’d say a second raise this year is in order. Not that money will repair his heart, but it will help him out in other ways.

  “It’s stressful living in such conditions, believe me, I grew up in a house where at times we only had cheese and milk in the refrigerator,” my wife says. “It’s depressing. At least to me it always was. I can’t believe how cheerful and fun-loving he’s been if all of this was going on in his life.”

  “Some people hide their pain better than others.”

  She nods as we hear the dogs run through the living room and back to the guest suite.

  “I’m glad they’re here,” she whispers. “And Cove, I’m sorry again about Mark.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I step back and cross my arms as an image of him enters my mind. I’m in defensive mode once again. “So tell me what you guys talked about.”

  “My life, you, David, the business, and my father,” she hesitates and shakes her head. “I had no idea David put my brother in charge of Jameson Industries, or that he accepted the offer, or...” her tone changes to anger. “That my father had my brother working for that damn company since he was in his early twenties. So you knew him... you met him long before you ever knew me? Do I even want to know what that means?”

  I walk over to our bedroom window and let the rain distract my thoughts, embarrassed and ashamed, incapable of going back to that time right now in my head.

  “I hate my fucking family. What a bunch of assholes,” she whispers, not wanting to disturb our guests. “I have the check, by the way. He was just screwing with you. All he wanted to know was if I was going to spend it frivolously on ‘cake and cookies,’ as he put it. God, what’s wrong with him? He thinks he looks out for me and is in control of whatever I do, but it’s all in some weird sick way, you know? If he wanted to get to know you, he could’ve just invited you out to dinner or something, like any normal human being would’ve done. Jesus,” she exhales. “I should’ve viewed the Jameson Industries website to see what the fuck’s been going on, but I was afraid I’d come across videos of the two of us.”

  “They’re not on there anymore, and your brother’s name isn’t listed on the site either.”

  “You looked?” she asks.

  “I just looked.” I turn to see she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off her heels and unzipping the front of her dress. She stands and it slides off her body, exposing her gorgeous flesh.

  “Mark said your father could’ve been sent back to prison if the police dug deeply enough into David’s life. Especially if they found information about his interactions with the Mayor, or the Warden of the prison where your father was set free. If David were arrested, more and more information would’ve been uncovered about his past, and even though your father’s innocent, his release from prison wasn’t...” her words fade as she holds out her hand for me to come back to her.

  “I know,” I whisper. “Are you saying your brother somehow stopped that from happening?” I take her hand and she pulls me nearer.

  “I’m saying it’s a sick blessing that David’s gone and whatever Mark did, or didn’t do, was with good reason. You’re the one who experienced the death of your heart and your soul... you, Cove,” she taps my chest gently with her finger. “And, I’m not making light of David’s suicide, I’m just saying you were slain by Jameson Industries, not David.” She places her hand under my chin and leans forward to give me one of her fiery, tongue-twisting, hot and wet, erection producing kisses. Oh fuck. “We’ve been through hell today,” she whispers.

  “Today?”

  She smiles and continues. “There’s so much to discuss, but I really need to be close to you for a few minutes. Is that alright?”

  “How’s your stomach? You feeling okay?” Her fingers run down my chest, which means she’s doing well. “Mmm, it feels like it’s been a month since I’ve been inside...”

  Flashing one of her sexiest grins; she pushes me onto the bed before I have a chance to finish my sentence. “Yeah, if this were a novel, it’d be close to a hundred pages since we’ve fucked,” she says. “Now strip. Take off those boxers and get under the covers.”

  “Shh,” I smile. “We have guests.”

  She turns and closes the bedroom door, removes her underwear, and then slides her eager body next to mine. “I know,” she says softly. “Which is why I want you under our comforter and not exposed to the world tonight.”

  I do as I’m told. Powerless when she’s spreading pre-cum delicately over the head of my cock.

  “Can you be quiet? Or do I need to gag you?” she teases.

  “Can you? You’re the loud one,” I say, covering her mouth as she emits an enormous laugh. “Shh. See, I told you,” I whisper. “I know your moans will ricochet throughout our place as soon as you feel my dick rub across your pussy.” I remove my hand and she rests her finger over her mouth as if she’s hushing herself. “You gonna be a good girl?”

  She nods and straddles my waist, pulling the comforter over our heads. Her breath is warm as she lingers an inch above my mouth. It’s something she did to me once for nearly an hour. She l
ingered, ran her breath all over my body, caused my dick to twitch and then detonate without ever being touched. My wife’s a goddess in bed, and she knows it.

  “Kiss me,” I request.

  “Where?”

  I steer her hand to my dick and raise an eyebrow friskily, trying to act all cute and shit.

  She shakes her head and trails her fingers up my abdomen, to my nipples, circling them gently before denying my request. “I was just down there this morning. Give and take, Cove.” Her waist slides over my stomach, closer and closer to my face. I grip her thighs and shift lower in the bed.

  She hasn’t a clue that licking her clit isn’t just a purely decadent request on her part. Fuck, it’s like I’m in paradise when I pleasure her. A midnight snack for myself, and a pussy tilt-a-whirl ride for her.

  She breathes heavily as my tongue glides up the folds of her lips, around her clit, flicking it, caressing it, causing it to become engorged, and then ending deep inside with a rapid lunge. Her flesh and juices smell musky tonight, like a cheap convenience store perfume. Something that I find calming, as if we’re out in the woods amongst the moss and decaying leaves.

  God, I’m such a sap when I’m between her legs.

  “Stop,” she exhales. “No more or I’ll lose my shit.”

  I try not to laugh, gifting her one last skim of my tongue before commenting on her usage of words. “Please don’t shit on me when I’m down here. The last thing I want is a Cleveland Steamer on my chest.”

  The top of my head receives a good smack as she falls next to me with a restrained laugh. “You’re such a smartass. Now give me some further loving, but with your cock.”

  “Summer loving?”

  “I swear, Cove,” she rolls her eyes. “Your erection must be molded out of brain cells.”

  “Oh yeah?” I restrain her arms and in the blink of an eye my dick hits home. “So you think all my brain cells are down here right now?” I twist my hips. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

  She studies my face, moistens her lips and shakes her head.

  “It means I have the most intelligent sperm in the world and our kid’s gonna be a genius.”