“Wonderful.”
“Sir, I really think being seen with her will do a lot for your career. Since your last wife’s death, people are starting to talk, and we don’t need anyone getting curious and looking into your after work life.”
“Fine, I will make the best of it. Lead me to Ms. Frankenstein … I mean, my date.” I laugh as Kane escorts me downstairs to meet my date, again apparently.
The woman looks well put together, not bad looking if you like women of that age, or whatever outdated-looking and no-fun age is trending these days. “Ms. Warren, thank you for agreeing to be my company this evening.”
“Please call me Sandra. We discussed the formalities once already. You know how I feel about our relationship. We are beyond acquaintances now.” She kisses me on the cheek, and I begin to wonder. Did I? With her? I did drink quite a bit that night. Maybe I thought she was the nurse. One look at her and I think there is no way I could ever be drunk enough. This woman has to be insane. She’s heinous looking. “Besides, any opportunity to spend more time with Nation magazine’s Most Eligible Bachelor is my pleasure. If you’re a good boy, maybe there will be a prize for you later,” she says with an overtly large smile and a sickening laugh that makes my stomach turn. I am going to need a lot of alcohol, and possibly a couple of bags, to get through tonight.
“Well, my beautiful lady, then please, after you.” I wave her ahead and look back at Kane and whisper. “Make sure I have at least three whores here to fuck when I get back. I am going to need a lot of hot ass to get this bitch’s ugly ass out of my head.”
“Yes sir,” he agrees with a grimacing expression.
My date talks non-stop all the way to the dinner, but she does come through for me when it comes to talking with the stiffs at dinner. She blocks and distracts the worst offenders of dullsville while I mingle with the people I prefer to talk to—the ones with too much money and a need to get rid of it by any means necessary and others who are the most likely to fuck in a janitor’s closet in between speeches. Outside of my perfectly suited campaign supporter, but oh so annoying date, the night goes as expected until I see someone familiar out of the corner of my eye. I quickly alter my view to verify what I saw, but I can’t find him again. I shake it off and assume it must be the combination of alcohol and a vast mix of money blending together. Everyone is starting to look the same in their overpriced tuxes. Once everyone takes a seat and dinner begins to be served, the festivities of the non-stop bullshit really begin. Not one of these political, talking heads are telling the truth, and no one cares, certainly not me. As long as they keep paying me and looking the other way when I need them to, I’m good with them claiming to be the saviors of the world. I really don’t give a fuck what anyone says or does here tonight. I just better have some fun waiting for me when I get home. I look over to my side, and Sandra smiles at me. “Having a good time?” I ask, trying to look directly at her. It’s not easy, but I manage for a whole six seconds.
“Oh yes, just a very lovely time. Maybe a nightcap after, just the two of us?’ She giggles.
“Oh, Sandra, you minx.” I have suddenly lost my appetite.
“You’re up next,” she squeals, squeezing my leg. She really wants to fuck me. I wonder if she is willing to be tied up and abused for a while before I give her what she wants? A good beating might make her more desirable.
I manage to force a smile in her direction before turning to look back out over the crowd. When I turn up my drink, I see, again, a familiar face. I slowly gaze across the room to the back doors and watch as my baby brother stares at me and boldly waves his hand at me. Motherfuckers said he was dead. Oh - yes sir, he’s dead. Yet that dead son of a bitch is standing at a thousand dollar a plate dinner with a drink in his hand, waving at me. He’s waving at me!
“Michael. Michael, you’re up,” the host for the night, Robert Jenkins, says to me.
“Sure, yeah, already to go.” I get up and walk to the stage graciously nodding and smiling as necessary at people. The applause begins the second I reach the podium. “Thank you, thank you. Please sit. Thank you. We are all here tonight to talk about education and how best to help our children get that education.” I’ve practiced this speech enough to know it fairly well, but without my prompter, I would be lost because all I can think about is that jackass standing in the back of the room still fucking waving at me. “Education begins at home. With my daughter, I like to spend time reading to her and preparing her for her future.” A picture of me and my daughter flashes on the screen, and an immediate, sweet applause follows. I begin again with a grateful nod. “We can’t just depend on our teachers. We, as parents, must step in and contribute our time to help. It doesn’t just have to be with our own children. Volunteering our time to help out the less fortunate children. The children of a single parent or …” I pause as a picture of me volunteering time at the local shelter appears, but everyone’s silence and wide eyes make me wonder what they are actually seeing. I turn to look up at a picture of me and a prostitute I hired months ago. I direct for the screen to move on, and it quickly advances the frame to another image of me and another prostitute. It doesn’t take long to go through more disturbing pictures. I finally issue closing statements before digging myself any deeper. I think for a second about trying to explain, but my team of people quickly usher me out of the room and right past my dipshit brother who waves goodbye with his idiot smile still plastered on his face.
The next morning, after a long night of tossing a turning, I meet with my security team. “Someone better damn well tell me what happened, and for the love of God, tell me how that piece shit brother of mine was there … ALIVE?!”
“I’m not sure. The best we can figure is someone helped him get away and …”
“And what?!” I scream at my head of security.
“And rescued him and Singler, his partner.”
“Who the fuck is it?!” They all shrug at me. “No one knows who this miracle person is? People, obviously? Beautiful.” I turn to watch the television as they all eagerly report on my addiction to prostitutes. My team has decided to spin the story to reflect that the deaths of my two wives have left me addicted to attention from women and fake love. The goal at this point simply rests in trying to disregard the fact I am fucking these women sideways and backwards. No way this is happening to me. “I want you to find him and his pussy boyfriend and kill them both, bury them alive in a deep grave for all I care. Just find them!” I walk out of the meeting and into my living room where the cops are waiting for me for some reason. “The police, and what …” Aaron turns around, and I have to sigh. “Aaron Reed, so what do I owe this honor?” I hold out my hand to shake his, and as usual, he laughs at it like it’s a joke.
“You crack me up, Mikey. Every time I see you, you want to act like we’re friends. Damn, you make me laugh. If I didn’t hate you so much for killing my sister, I might actually want to have a drink with you. No, wait. I hated you before that too. Oh well, maybe one day we can get together and I can arrest you, kick your ass all the way to jail, and we can enjoy sharing some coffee before you get sentenced to death. For now, I just want to talk to you about a murder.”
“A murder? I seriously doubt I have any idea what you’re talking about,” I say, checking out the woman cop searching my place right in front of me. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No, thanks. I am just trying to figure out what kind of man has to pay for prostitutes on a regular basis,” she says causing Aaron to laugh again with a shake of his head.
“I’m sorry about her. She’s not right. She just started a few days ago. I didn’t ask for her, but I was the one that drew the short straw.”
“Fuck you,” she says to him.
“You see why we drew straws, right?” Aaron shakes his head. “That, over there, is Officer Axon.”
“Axon, Kailyn’s …” I start to ask.
“Oh, yeah. So you do know Kailyn? See, Jessica, I told you this would be a good
day.” He rapidly unfolds a piece of paper. “See, look at this. My horoscope said today was going to be a good day for me. Everything is going to go smoothly. See, look at that,” he says, showing it to everyone.
“Would you shut up about that damn horoscope?! You’re a jackass.”
“Don’t listen to her. She’s really annoying. So, Mikey …”
“I prefer Michael, or actually for you, I prefer Mr. Colletto.”
“Yeah, sure. So, Mr. Mikey, what was your relationship with Kailyn?”
I sigh deeply, shaking my head. “You already know this.”
“Humor me,” he says.
“She was my intern. I was going to write a recommendation letter for her.”
“You were going to? School was starting back within a month. Wouldn’t she need that letter before then?”
“Yes, and I did write it for her.”
“Oh, so now you did write the letter? What changed since five seconds ago when I first asked you?”
“Nothing, but I write a lot of letters, and a lot happens within a day. I’m sure she has it somewhere. Have you looked in her apartment?”
“You see, that’s just it. She doesn’t have it, and neither does the school.”
“What is this? Kailyn committed suicide. I thought you wanted to talk to me about a murder?”
“Yeah, a murder. See, we don’t think Kailyn actually committed suicide. We think you had her killed.”
“And why would I do that?” I hold out my hands, exhausted.
“Because she was stealing evidence against you for the FBI,” he says as they both watch me closely for my reaction.
“What …” Keep calm, Michael. “I don’t know what you are talking about. There is nothing to steal, and there is certainly nothing that would interest the FBI in my office.”
“Oh, so all the evidence against you is here at your house?”
“No, you fool. There is nothing anywhere against me. Do you mind leaving? Unless you have any questions that actually mean anything?”
“Hmmm, I guess I don’t have anything. Jessica, you got anything?”
“No, I’m good for now.” The bonehead’s sister winks at me as my old bitch’s brother winks at me as well. I’m not sure which one I want dead more. Once they are both safely out of my house and I make sure no bugs were placed, I let my anger finally be heard. “I want every movement made by that whore documented and given to me. If she was even remotely intelligent enough to get any details of any part of my business, I want to know about it.”
“Yes sir,” my entire team answers in unison.
“Go! Damn! Do I have to tell you people every step to take?!” They all begin scrambling to get me what I need. The only one to stay behind is the one who has been by my side since the beginning—Rowen Rodecker. “What do you know, Rowen?”
“Not much yet. The gay bastard is hiding somewhere outside of town. We tried to follow him out of the dinner last night, but we lost him. We’re not sure how. We were careful. I had multiple points of men coming out to take over the follow.”
“So, what’s next?”
“We are on the lookout, still following his credit cards and bank account, but he isn’t using any of it. I am not sure where the money is coming from to support him. What I do know is that whoever is helping him is skilled and well-supported. I made a call to our friend in the FBI, and he says there is no active investigation in the system against you.”
“Are we sure that our friend is still in the know?” I ask, pouring myself a drink.
“We can never be sure, but there is nothing to make him, or us, believe he has lost the respect of his peers. If there is anything going on, then it’s off the books.”
“And what about the group that was sent to turn my mother? Have we located each of them?”
“Out of the five, one is dead, two are married and retired to a desk job, another is on a mission in Alabama, and the other has been on an extended fishing trip somewhere.”
“A fishing trip, huh? Find out where this fishing trip is.”
“No problem,” he says, walking out to get started. I have known him forever, and it never takes him long to track down anyone.
Chapter 14
Michael
After being humiliated at my last speech, my media relations people have managed to bring me back to good with some replays of my sad stories—my dead mother, my dead father, my dead wives, and my dead but oh-so-handsome and beloved brother. Suddenly, every woman in the world feels sorry for me and wants to be the one to help me, change me even. I’m the victim everyone feels sorry for. “How could anyone suffer so much loss in their life?” one female reporter said with a tear in her eye. That’s easy for me to answer, because I am the one that killed them all, and if I have my way, there will be more to go right along with them.
With all my distractors silent for the moment, I am back to endless amounts of dedications, ceremonies, and ground breakings. Today is full of them. To start is one for the Urban Youth Center in the city’s downtown area. I smile with my hard hat and shovel and shake hands, all with thoughts of other places in my head. It’s hard to be here when I am concerned about everywhere else, but I put on a good face, stand up, and begin talking about the future of children. Before I can finish my speech, some kids on skate boards rush by and throw eggs at me. They are gone before anyone can get to them, not that anyone in the crowd tries to find the kids. Instead, the press jump to attention and block all aisles in order to get a picture of me dripping with egg. I laugh it off and try to have a good sense of humor about it, but it’s difficult. “This must be pay back for not providing frittatas this morning. That’s the last time I bring donuts, I assure you.” I receive some laughs, but I can’t wait to get out of here.
After a quick stop to change and get cleaned up, I am off to a ribbon cutting ceremony at the hospital, which goes well. I even make a connection with a sweet, young nurse. She agrees to talk to me alone about some medical business. The moment I am done shaking hands, I find her, and she motions for me to come into a dark, secluded room. “So is this where you bring all your patients?” I ask, excited about the opportunity.
“Just the celebrities. I completely understand your need for privacy, so what is your medical issue?” she asks, sitting down to take notes.
“Excuse me?”
“Well you want some medicine to get rid of whatever you might have gotten, right? It’s okay. I have seen the news and your addiction to love. It’s completely understandable after losing two wives.” I slam my fist into the wall and walk out. “Please don’t be mad. I just want to help you.”
The mounting frustration these days makes even opening this aspirin bottle tense. I throw it across the room and call my new assistant to get me some more with a stiff drink. My advisors say stay away from the assistant, stay away from trouble, because they believe I am being watched. My entire being is beginning to fracture amongst the heavy weight of want and need for control. The moment my new assistant, Regina, walks in with aspirin and an innocent smile, I begin to vibrate. If not for Rowen walking in and putting his hand on my shoulder, that woman would have been my afternoon snack.
“Miss, take the rest of the day off,” Rowen says to her. He doesn’t give her a chance to respond before staring her down and scaring her out of the office.
“Great. She’s probably never coming back,” I mumble.
“I would say, considering the sight of you, that’s probably best. I told you to stay away from trouble, not hire it and make it flaunt its evil gifts in front of you.”
“I couldn’t help it. She called for an interview and giggled when I asked if she still wears knee socks. It was all I could do not to beg her to bring those knee socks over and let me see how she looked on her knees.”
Rowen moves to a chair in front of my desk. “You are probably not going to like what I have to say either. We can’t find the missing agent. He’s not fishing, not where he said he was anyway. No one has
seen him in a while. The really strange part is that his bank account is untouched for any major purchases, like a fishing trip.”
“What does that mean? Is he dead?”
“No, I don’t think so. I checked his withdrawal habits. They are timely and typical, never anything out of the ordinary. Ever. He’s got to have a secondary account somewhere. Somewhere he is getting paid by someone, and it sure as hell ain’t us. The best part is that his home looks like a show home. It’s a perfectly staged home, not a single thing out of a place. There is no way he actually lives there.” I look up at him, realizing what he is trying to tell me. “We are looking for him, but in the meantime, I did do some digging, and this agent happened to have an apartment here about the time your mother was alive and during the time of your half-brother’s conception.”
“Name?” I seethe.
“John … Dace … Logan.”
“Well isn’t that sweet?! My dearest mother named my brother after his father. At least we know who is helping the gay bastard. Maybe we need to draw them out?”
“What would you like to do?”
“Do I have to think of everything? Go figure it out! I need to go find someone to fuck before I go insane.”
“Now, there is something I have already considered.” Rowen passes me a hotel key and smiles. “She’s tied up nicely for you already. When you’re done, text me, and I will have someone come by and clean up. Until then, enjoy.”
“You are a good man,” I say, taking the key and wasting no time to leave my office. My driver picks me up and drops me off at a decoy car, so I can sneak into the hotel undetected. The hotel of choice is one I know well and have become accustomed to using for my rendezvous. They have a great penthouse suite that no one can hear anything from with its own private elevator. By the time I get to the room, my dick is already hard, anticipating the fun I am about to have. I find the girl tied up nicely and already crying and pleading with me. “Oh, Honey, don’t cry. I am not going to do anything to you that hasn’t been done before. Well, maybe a few things, but I promise … I’ll enjoy it.” I strip down completely before taking in a deep breath and beginning my punishment of her into submission. “You will do whatever I say, how I say to do it, and however many times I say do it. Do you understand?” Her muffled cries fuel me until I notice a man outside my window hanging from a window washing scaffold with a camera. I rush to the window to close the draperies, but it’s too late. The man has clearly seen too much and is already on his phone talking to, who I can only assume to be, the police. The penthouse is raided shortly after I get my pants on. Being taken out of the hotel in handcuffs and in front of hundreds of cameras is not my idea of fun. It doesn’t take too long for someone to post my bail but long enough to make new friends, insect type friends. Lice. Less than twenty-four hours in jail, and I get lice. My ride home is solemn, and I find little joy in anyone’s attempt to give me good news. This week has not gone well at all.