Shot in the Dark, page 12
“He was tryna help us, Mama.”
“Oh, bull, James. He just wanted to hurt me. You were too young to understand…”
No, I wasn’t…
“Y’all split. He didn’t know how bad your habit had gotten until the school called him and said I hadn’t been in school for a few days. It was so long ago, but I remember that much. Doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”
“What all do you remember?”
Mama had never asked him this before. He found it unnerving that she went from minimizing the situation to guilt, to blame, to wanting to open the festering sore and tear the scab off. Feel the pain.
He lit a cigar and honored her request. “He came to the house and saw you were gone, the lights were shut off, and Irish had on an old diaper. She was too old to be in diapers, anyway, but you hadn’t potty-trained her. I tried to teach her, but she couldn’t get it. He asked me how long we’d been there alone. I wasn’t sure. Dad fished around in the trashcan, and I couldn’t understand why. He picked up what I now know was a receipt. He was trying to figure out when you’d left… He crushed it tight in his hand and started cussing and banging his fist on the wall. Wasn’t no food in the house, and I had been eating ketchup packets and a stick of butter. I gave Irish the few crackers we had. They were stale, but she didn’t mind.”
As he spoke, he had no feelings about it.
It was all like water rolling down the street until it dripped into a sewer. He’d already ran down the twisting road of these emotions, and he always stopped at a dead end. The gutters take all the crap—nobody cares about them until they back up, and vomit piss and shit back into the world’s faces. That piss and shit is a byproduct, the result of neglect. Wounded children turned to survivors are not by choice, but by necessity. The forgotten sewage has to go somewhere, become something… it grows into diabolic adults, stinking of rage and revenge…
“You remember everything, don’t you?”
“Mostly. I ’magine in my childlike mind, some of my memories are wrong because I only had so much to work from in order to figure out what was going on. It’s like tryna make sense of something you don’t know the name of. Something you’ve never seen before. It makes you feel strange to even look at it—but you want to understand it, because somehow, some way, you know it messed up your life.”
“The old me loved you, James. The new me loves you more because now I love myself, too. I know our relationship has had its share of ups and downs, but I figured we were getting along pretty good. I don’t know what to do sometimes because you won’t talk to me. I don’t want to be your enemy. I want you to understand me. I know that we may never be friends, but I love ya, and I’m tryin’ here.”
“Everyone wants to understand their enemies, Mama, even if that enemy is themselves. Sometimes an enemy ain’t nothing more than a friend playing dress up. Sometimes a friend is just an enemy who talks a good talk, and wears a convincing smile. I gotta go, Mama. I’ll call you back soon.”
“Do you promise?”
“I most certainly do.” He smiled into the phone, and his heart beat a bit faster.
“Okay. I love you, James.”
“Love you, too.” And he meant that. He ended the call and headed out. Time to check on his deliveries…
CHAPTER TEN
Honey scooted around the crowd of people and peeped at Billy off to her right, noting the glimmer of his gun jammed in his waistband. It was rather inconspicuous unless one was looking for it. The man barely blinked the entire time they were together, as if he feared she could somehow outrun time itself and vanish from his view. She tried to ignore his heavy aura to the best of her ability and went through the motions, doing her usual greetings and mingling, asking people to pose just so as the restaurant managers for the new spot smiled at the camera during the important training session. After the first round of photos, she asked everyone to look natural and pretend she wasn’t there. Speaking of not there…
She didn’t look at Billy anymore, despite him brushing against her every now and again, leaving little to no breathing room. Even when he wasn’t directly up on her, she could feel him nearby, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. His energy was horrid and heavy and under different conditions, she wouldn’t hesitate to ruin his life in an instant.
As she entered the crudely constructed double kitchen area of the restaurant, she listened as the architect explained to several investors the final vision for the place. He pulled out sheets, photos, and blueprints, and enthusiastically made it appear as if this eatery would be like Disney World for the tongue.
She began to snap shots of the attractive older man in his blue suit and fancy tie, candid pictures that would be fantastic in black and white and sepia. She got into the zone, her work a welcome reprieve from her actual predicament. The busy work that had been tossed her way as her career dangled on the fishing line now proved a breath of fresh air.
The phony emails, fake phone calls and bogus text messages she’d been forced to send regularly, lying about how she was having a ball and doing fine, were tearing her apart. She hated being untruthful to the people she loved and cared about. Now, even failed friendships and the like seemed more valuable. What she’d do to talk freely to just about anyone.
She shook the glum thoughts away and took notice of stacks of unsightly boxes marked fragile, various company names printed on them. She didn’t like them in the shot, they were tacky, and it would take some time to edit them out. If not, she’d ask for them to be removed. As she looked them over, she noticed one was marked as ‘cutlery.’
She looked around, spotting Billy staring at a slender red-haired woman with black cat-eye glasses who was asking him where she knew him from. She eased closer to the box, seeing that one flap was up. Just enough space for her to peer inside. Enclosed were plastic wrapped metal forks, spoons, and knives.
She moved to another box that contained linens, pretending to be interested in it, too. An hour or so had passed, and she’d taken way more photos than she needed under a cloud of stale cigarette smoke and beer. Billy sidled up closer to her.
“I think you’re finished now,” he whispered in her ear.
“Who are you to tell me that I’m finished? Are you a professional photojournalist, too?”
Their eyes locked. His darkened to something murky and sickening. A deep purple with muddy irises flashed before her as his apparent loathing for her rose to new levels. After shifting his gaze all around as if to make sure they weren’t drawing any attention, he grabbed her healing, bandaged wrist and squeezed so hard, the pain about made her buckle at the knees. She could feel her eyes sheen over, but refused to let one teardrop escape. Instead, she glared at him right back.
Teeth gritted, she mouthed, “ARCHER WOULDN’T LIKE THIS. LET. THE. FUCK. GO. OF. ME… NOW.” Yeah, you let the cat out of the bag that he killed his own man over me. Now, I have leverage.
He hesitated for a moment, then tossed her arm away as if it were part of a big pile of stinking trash. Then, she marched back inside the building and made a beeline for the cutlery box, knowing he was close behind, but far enough where she could perhaps get what she needed, and sink a knife blade deep in his throat. End him forever.
I can do it! I’ve never killed before, but I’ve come close! I’ve been at death’s door… I’ve seen so much, it’s incredible that I’m not dead. By the time he knows what’s going on, it’ll be too late to grab his gun. I will ram it in him DEEP! KILL HIM AND RUN!
Chasity…
I know Archer will do good on his promise if I try to escape! I know he’ll kill her if I do this… It won’t be worth it…
She looked down into the box, the side with all the knives calling to her, begging her to unwrap one, the blade new and pristine. She shuddered with a cold chill and mourned the brief happiness she entertained, the chance she was letting slip away. She relished the idea of piercing his jugular, him falling in a heap on the floor, and people screaming and running away while she stood there for just a second, admiring her work, the blade dripping.
She savored the idea of Archer finding out about how she’d killed his right-hand man. It would be the ultimate revenge… but again… Chasity. She’d be in the news again for all the wrong reasons, too. This time, murder. She briefly closed her eyes, took a step back from the box, and said her farewells to the executives in attendance. She shook a few hands, then promised the owner to send over more photos for their company online newsletter and website—the usual conversation. Billy stood beside her now as she left back out the front door and without a word, he ushered her back into his car, then slipped a pair of handcuffs on her.
They rode in silence. No radio. No banter. No idle or very real threats. She sat in the backseat with her thoughts. They were too big, sitting on top of her and crushing her hopes and dreams. Smothering her faith. Stealing her breath and zest for life. They weighed a million pounds, sat on her heart, and her stomach churned and rumbled, tensed with tight knots that no one but God could untie.
Once they arrived at James’ home, he pulled up to the front of the house, cut the engine and jerked around to smirk at her, as if a new, oddly satisfying and diabolic idea had popped into his head.
“Nobody but me ’nd James knows you’re here. Oh, and Lou … but Lou doesn’t know who you really are… your profession and where ya came from. Tone is dead because of you. James should hate you as much as me, but for some reason, he doesn’t. He hates you fucking reporters and media people… I don’t know what makes you so special.” His lips flattened against his face, clearly dismayed. “What do you think James would do if I told him you tried to escape? Who’d he believe? Me or you?” His eyes lit up like stars in the sky.
She casually looked out the window, then turned back in his direction.
“He’d probably believe you.”
“You’re damn right he would. He and I have an iron-clad friendship.” The man’s complexion deepened, as if just evoking Archer’s name gave him feelings of euphoria. “I think I’ll tell him just that, that you tried to get away. I was hoping you would attempt it, or scream out for help, or maybe pick up a dish and try to throw it at me before bolting. Just one false move so I can blow a hole in your fucking face is what I kept tellin’ myself… but ya didn’t. So disappointing, especially since you like to be so fucking scrappy. If I tell James ya tried to ditch me, I’d at least get a lil’ justice…so he can beat you within an inch of your fucking life.” He sneered.
“Well, Billy, folks with iron-clad friendships shouldn’t lie to one another just to get their way, and secondly, I think under normal circumstances, you’d be right. If you told him that story, he probably would try to hurt me, make me pay, but since I owe him something, I believe he’d want me in top, pristine condition so that I can deliver. Putting a hole in me, as you say, would make that impossible.”
Her handcuffs jangled as she crossed her arms. The smirk on his greasy face melted like fat over high heat.
“And what is it that ya owe him?”
“Oh, you don’t know? But I thought you two had an iron-clad friendship. I thought best friends didn’t keep secrets, or tell lies. Looks like James has a hidden arrow for his bow.” She winked at him, then smiled.
“…Get tha fuck out of my car.”
The broad-shouldered boulder of a man was at her side of the car in half a second. Reaching in, he yanked her out with brute force. He marched her up to James’ front door, tugging and dragging her, shoved her against the siding of the house, then placed his thumb over a red laser. Once the scan was complete, the door unlocked and they stepped inside. The delicious aroma of food drifted from the kitchen, and the sounds of ‘Street’, by Doja Cat, greeted them.
Billy grabbed her wrists to remove the handcuffs. As they jangled in the monster’s grip, a shadow appeared and there stood James, wearing a dark red tank top and jeans, barefooted. His hair was a bit messy, but it gave him a rather relaxed look. He was holding a bottle of beer and as he drew closer, an unmistakable smile creased his face.
“How was work?” he asked, as if she were his wife coming home from a grueling gig.
She shot Billy a glance and wondered if she should report what a fucker he was. She thought better of it when she realized she was in the middle of playing a game. That wasn’t the right move. She could feel it in her gut. Save it. Timing is everything.
“Work? Great. It turned out well. I, uh, I do need to email the owner the photos, edit them, and—”
“Fine.” James waved her off and nodded dismissively. Odd. “I will make sure you do that.” He raised his chin at Billy and approached the man. The two began to talk and she could only snatch a word here and there from the conversation.
“She … photos … kitchen … too much…”
When they were finished, Billy shot her a menacing look, then turned on his heels and left. When the front door closed, James grabbed her chin and squeezed it while looking into her eyes.
“Billy says you were naughty today. Did something happen?” His tone was calm and cool. His grip hard, but not painful. “Tell the truth, baby.”
Baby?
“Billy is an asshole but no, I wasn’t naughty, whatever that is supposed to mean. I’m not a child. I did what I was supposed to do. I worked and left. Nothing more.” She pulled away from his grip and took a couple of steps back. “Now I’m here. I’m back.”
“I think Billy is jealous of you…” There was that smirk again, bigger than ever.
“Jealous of me? Why? Is he in love with you?” she asked in half jest.
“Now why would that be the first thing to come to your mind? Love?”
Warmth spread all over her body. Her face was on fire.
“Well, you know, I’m just saying that usually if someone is jealous, it’s a love thing, and he was sure to tell me about how close you two are.”
“Come into the dining room. Have some lunch,” he offered without acknowledging her statements. Cutting her off cold.
Moments later, she was seated in the black and white room at a large round table with circular white leather booth seating. In the center of the table sat a large crystal bowl filled with clear fruit—glass pears, apples, and the like. It was beautiful. The kind of thing she could look at for a long while and daydream as she did. She’d never been in the dining room, and found herself sinking into comfort.
A woman with olive skin and jet-black hair pulled back in a short ponytail came out of nowhere, wearing a traditional maid outfit. She offered a gentle smile as she placed a napkin across her lap, set out a wine glass, and lit a candle on one of the side tables in the room. She did the same for James, then disappeared out of the room. As Honey sat there trying to make sense of this gesture, being fed and in such a nice way, the maid returned and served their food.
Roasted duck. It was falling off the bone. Carrots. Potatoes in a rich broth. Red wine was poured in their glasses.
They began to eat, both silent for a long while. She’d learned the hard way that her typical tactics didn’t work on this man. A new strategy was at play. She would let him lead and she’d zigzag through his direction, digging holes and pitfalls. Create doubt and feed his paranoia—but with truth, not lies.
“Carmen, honey… Come here, please,” he yelled out the woman’s name. The maid returned by his side so quickly, it was as if she’d been tethered there the whole time.
“Yes, Mr. Wilde?”
“Thank you for dinner. It’s good…” He glanced down at his plate, then raised his gaze to her again. “You can leave early. I’ve got it from here.”
“Certainly. Have a good day, sir, and ma’am.” The woman offered another gentle nod in her direction, turned away, and walked swiftly out of the dining room.
Archer grabbed his phone and began messing with it. Moments later, she heard the front door open and close, no doubt Carmen leaving the dwelling. After a few minutes of quiet, he set his phone down and cleared his throat.
“You’re not ready to go to Bannon’s just yet.” He broke the stillness as he sliced into his meat with a fork and knife. “I need to teach you some more things, first. I hope though that we can get this settled soon. Your presence is interruptin’ my work.” He jammed the food in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “I have to adjust my schedule around you, and I don’t like you in my house for hours at a time when I have to leave, regardless of you being locked inside and me being able to watch you from wherever I am. Wasn’t long ago that I found out that you’d gnaw your own fucking arm off to try and get away.” He sucked his teeth as if reliving the irritation of her fight with the pair of handcuffs that left her raw and wounded. She glanced at her bandaged wrist and took a sip of her wine. The flavor was impeccable. “How is it?”
She set her glass down. “The wine? It’s good.”
“No.” His lip twitched with the hint of a smile. “Your wrist… better?”
She looked at it once more, then nodded. “Yeah.”
They said nothing further, and she’d eaten the majority of her food. Her wine was half gone but refused to drink more as she had to keep all of her faculties. She asked to excuse herself, wishing to take a nap. He obliged and walked her to her room. They walked in unison, their steps aligned. Once she was inside, he exited with a goodbye. She heard the familiar locking of the door, and noticed her camera equipment sitting in the room. She’d thought Billy left it in the foyer after they returned, but the maid must’ve brought it in while they were eating.
Putting her equipment aside, she sat on the edge of the bed and sank into dark, smoky thoughts. This was beyond being a nightmare. Where was the lesson to be learned? On one hand, the events of the day seemed so… normal. On the other hand, they were surreal. Cruel. A terrible torture.
She got up and crossed the room. Standing by the door, she rang the buzzer. Archer had explained that if she needed something, she simply had to ring it and it would send a notification to his phone.
