Chapter 10
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, except for my own. The rest belong to Tribune Entertainment.
I just wanted to inform everyone that one of my friends has been booted from ff.net temporarily, thanks to some complaints. Now why is this so? She's an absolutely wonderful writer, and now it's everyone's loss if she can't post MX fic anymore. I really don't understand the motivation for this, and we should be celebrating writers and encouraging them, not the opposite. We all have differing styles. One may not like all of them, but it's important to remember we are all aspiring writers, so we need to be uplifted.
Okay, off my soapbox now. This chapter is rated R upfront for sex and violence, and PG13 later.
'Sometimes it's for the best,' he was trying to say through the maelstrom rushing in her ears. 'The first time for most women can be traumatic, in my experience. And some women never get to like it. Most of them go for the hearts and flowers stuff, that's why romance sells with women and not porn. But oh, I'm sorry.. I honestly thought you did experience it. You were quite uninhibited last night.'
He was beginning to sound like the Kinsey report. He was sitting up, the quilt falling away; and he was hugging her, stroking her bare arm in consternation.
'It's not that, Bren.' It was early in the morning and her head was already splitting. She knew there was a reason why she didn't drink, sometimes she just conveniently forgot it. 'I can't think right now..' And damn it, I love you and you're not giving me a chance to figure out how to tell you that '..it's just that I didn't expect it to happen so quickly.'
She wondered if she could turn back the clock. Like that woman they had met with the time travel abilities, Diana-what's-her-name? Where was she now? Damn it. Would she be willing to help? What was the use of being an empath if you can't even control what you're feeling?
And now. She would be forced to tell him now.
Oh Bren, I love you. I know I said I wouldn't, but somewhere along the way I fell in love with you. You have no idea how much I love you. And please don't push me away because I can't bear it.
No. Too intense. He would be turned off, especially if he didn't share her sentiments. That was what she couldn't bear really - the rejection, if it came. 'If' was such a cruel, dangerous word. If nothing else, she would want to keep his friendship. But how do you keep a friendship when certain words have been parlayed, certain raw emotions laid bare for scrutiny?
And is it not possible, a little voice spoke, that he might love you the way you want him to?
It suddenly dawned upon her that it was her psychological make-up that would not allow this possibility to be so. All her uncertainties, her insecurities 'You always seemed to be ashamed of yourself,' Karyn had rightly said , her ambiguities, her disappointments; her failed love affairs, their unhappy culmination....everything that had added to the stones structuring her self-deprecating pyramid.
Nothing had ever worked out for her. Nothing had ever gone the way she wanted it to, despite the considerable powers at her disposal. What made her think that this friendship-turned-love affair would?
Give me a lifeline, Bren, she pleaded silently. Help me out here.
Some of it must have been projected tele-emphatically, because he took her hand. And said, 'All right, I promise you. We'll do this again. And you're going to enjoy every moment of it, awake.'
Her spirits lifted.
He added, 'No alcohol for you this time. And after this, you're free to go and get your own hot dates.' There was a pregnant pause. 'I really had fun, you know. This past month.'
There was no inflection in his voice, so she looked up to gaze into his eyes. There was just the slightest pang of regret. (Or was it even regret? Had she projected her own desires into her observations, like a melancholic wish list?) He looked awkwardly away.
Oh, her tortured, battered heart...
'We've still one more date,' she commiserated miserably. She was buying time for herself; it was as clear as that. Such a cowardly act. And she was behaving exactly like all those magazine article women who cannot handle rejection; who reject before they can be rejected; such pitiful helpless souls, all of them. 'It's a date,' he promised. 'Now let's go before they make us pay for all the booze.'
*
*
'Love can manifest itself in different, dangerous ways,' Brennan told Emma several days later on a grocery trip, while she was still waiting for that hot date. 'Not that I thought it had anything to do with love in the beginning.'
He never had a woman who desired him so much. But Maddie was right. She was like a drug. He went back to her again and again. At first it was just naked, unadulterated lust. Each time they secretly met - in a seedy motel, in his apartment - as soon as he locked the bedroom door behind them, she would rip his clothes off and ravish him. She craved his body like an intoxicant, both physically and voyeuristically. She couldn't seem to get enough of him. Even when he was deep inside her, she wanted him closer.
She showed him a picture of a Daliesque painting. 'I want us to have sex like this, melting into each other in one wet flow, so there's no beginning and no end. Can you do that?'
'Maddie, this is a surrealist painting. There's no such thing.'
She was also very much into the kinky stuff. She was into bondage and fetish wear, which suited him fine. But he drew the line at other things. He couldn't even begin to outline those other things. He had to. She was a walking erotica dictionary, and if he allowed her to lead, she would have tried him out on everything. And there were just some things that he couldn't - wouldn't - do.
One day, after she had strapped him onto her bed, she took out a camcorder.
'No,' he immediately said. 'No videotaping.'
'But I want to look at you when you're not around. You're hardly around and I need my fix.'
'Go rent a video like the rest of us. Or get a magazine.'
'But I want you in them.'
'Sorry, I don't do videos.' She made a move to press the 'on' button anyway. 'Maddie, if you do this, I swear I will walk after tonight.'
She put down the camcorder. 'You're such a prude.'
He wanted to laugh. No one had ever called him a prude before. He gasped as she pounced on him suddenly, crushing the air out of him with her weight. She produced a three-tongued whip - where the heck did that come from? - and curled it around his neck.
Putting her face close to his, she said, 'Don't you ever ever threaten to walk out on me again. You understand?'
When he good-naturedly acquiesced, she added, ' I will now have to punish you.'
'That was the first time I had any indication that there was a deadly undercurrent about her,' Brennan said. 'Though it made the sex even more exciting, better than any I'd ever had before. The part about me forfeiting my life every time I went back to her was also very real, which added of course to the whole intoxication package.' He sighed. 'Why do we always crave the things that are bad for us?'
I should be asking myself that, Emma thought.
As the months went by, he was acutely aware that the danger was escalating. Worse still, she was getting adventurous. She wanted to get it on with him in public places. Like a restroom stall in a subway station. Or a back alley. Under a table at a fetish club. There was always an element of being seen by someone who knew either of them, and he was aware that Mr. Carolco had many spies.
He had it bad. He was turning into a danger addict, living on the edge of reason, mingling his passion with a frenetic disregard for consequence. He had always been a risk taker, but now he was practically reveling in it. It was almost as though he had a death wish.
In one instance, when he had just woken up in her bed, he caught her staring at him. As his eyes met hers, she looked abruptly away.
'You're not falling in love with me, are you, Maddie?' He asked, stroking her hair.
'Of course not,' she quickly said. 'You're just a body to me. Whatever made you think that?'
There was so little softness in her that he felt sorry. He wondered what had happened in her life that made her that way. A subliminal part of him wondered too if he could bring out the woman in her.
He knew it was too good to be true, them carrying on without anybody finding out. It had to happen. And for him, D-day came when Eli was briefing him about a bank heist he was supposed to plan.
The lieutenant paused in mid-presentation. 'Come into my room, kid, I want to show you something.'
Heart pumping with a sudden surge of adrenaline, Brennan followed him.
'Sit here,' Eli indicated the armchair in front of a TV monitor.
He felt his bile rise within as Eli inserted a videotape and pressed 'Play.' A shockingly clear image of him - naked, handcuffed to the bed and painfully erect - came onscreen. The angle was static and amateurish, as though the camera was placed in one spot from a distance. As he watched, a deep-seated horror taking root, Maddie appeared onscreen. She turned to flash a sultry smile at the camera. Then she straddled him on the bed and began to move her hips, proffering the lens a embarrassingly stark posterior view of their coupling.
'Where...where.. did you get this?' he whispered, aware his mouth was very, very dry.
Eli said grimly. 'Walls have eyes. One of the maids found quite a collection in a secret cache somewhere in Mr. Carolco's house. Naturally, she played them, as people are wont to play all hidden tapes. For weeks, she didn't know what to do. And finally, she brought them to me, since I hired all of Mr. Carolco's staff.'
Brennan was suddenly very, very scared. He wondered what it took to get away from here, and if he had to skip the country. Subconsciously, he felt a charge building. If that was what it took...
'You shouldn't have videotaped yourself fucking, kid. That was a stupid thing to do.'
She must have done it without his knowledge, using a hidden camera. Damn the woman..He wondered how much voltage it would take to shock Eli without killing him.
Behind him, Eli said quietly. 'I've been with Vincent for eighteen years. He took me in from the streets. Gave me an identity, a place to belong. I've seen his children grow up. I've seen him through a divorce, and his first daughter's wedding. And I've seen him seal an alliance with the Family by marrying Madeleine LaPaglia. You do know who she is, don't you? Her folks are from New York, and they pretty much belong to the First Family there. She's an untouchable. That leaves only you.'
He knew Eli always carried a gun, and that his favorite execution style was a bullet to the temple. One shot. No questions asked. 'She seduced me first.'
'Of course.' Eli bent down, putting his mouth very close to Brennan's ear. 'And now I'm offering you a way out. I don't want to see Vincent go through this. Confrontation is too messy. Upsets people in New York, if you know what I mean. So I want you to walk away from her. Tell her it's over. And if he wasn't so fond of you, I would suggest you find a new line of employment.'
'How do I know you won't just kill me after I end it?'
'You don't know that. But at least you'll know you'll be doing the decent thing for a man who's been good to you. So I suggest you buy yourself brownie points, and maybe I might relent.'
*
He had to do it. Eli was right. It was the decent thing to do, though part of him was not sorry he had had Maddie. But now there had to be closure. And then he had to skip town. He didn't believe for one moment that Eli was going to let him go without repercussions. He was young, but he wasn't naïve.
So he arranged to meet Maddie at a secluded booth in their usual fetish club. When she arrived, her hand immediately dove down between his legs, but he pushed it away. 'We've got to talk.'
He told here what happened with Eli. She listened, expressionless. And when he reproached for making videotapes, she said, 'But I wanted to look at you. I needed to. You never understood that.'
Again, he wondered if she was in love with him. Or if for her, love and lust had mired themselves into one confusing Daliesque continuum. Perhaps her voyeurism was a psychological manifestation, and it wasn't for him to cure it. She seriously needed a shrink. 'Look, I'm flattered. But maybe you should have just stuck a photo of me in your wallet, though that's dangerous in itself. As it is, I have to leave. I can't see you again.'
There was a high color in her cheeks. She breathed sharply, her chest rising and falling. 'No, don't leave. Just stay put. I'll take care of it.'
'What do you mean you'll take care of it? It's over.'
'Just trust me okay?'
*
He had his suspicions, and perhaps he didn't want to fully acknowledge them at first. But when Eli went missing, his hackles were raised.
'Why are you so interested, Mulwray? I thought you didn't like him.'
Careful, he thought. He didn't want suspicion to befall him. 'We were supposed to go over the heist.'
'He's probably around.' His seasoned associate raised an eyebrow. 'Sometimes they go on urgent covert missions, you know, like the CIA. They don't tell people, it's a need to know thing. Eli's disappeared before. He's always turned up.'
'Yeah, but you know, I thought he should have left word or something,' he mumbled.
'Then again, the world's a dangerous place. Like there was this mugging yesterday on one of Mr. Carolco's own household help. They dragged her to a back alley when she was going home, took all her cash but not before raping her and slitting her throat. Like I said, the world's a violent place.'
Suddenly, he felt the world spinning.
'You okay, Mulwray?'
'Yeah...I uh...just need to go take a leak.'
He walked slowly to the bathroom tread carefully, he told himself , turned on the sink faucet and splashed water on his face. Oh God..God...Maddie.. How did he get himself involved in this?
His worst fears were confirmed when the police fished out a decomposed body from the river two days later. They identified it as Elijah Solomon, manager of a successful health spa which was Eli's front, though Brennan was sure they had accumulated files on Eli's other activities, but didn't have enough evidence to make an arrest. The body was in bad shape. Apparently, the fishes had chewed up its hands and face. The coroner had to make a dental identification.
He spent the next few nights restless, unable to sleep. He was not a stranger to violence, having lived with it all his life, but this particular one unnerved him in its brutality and swiftness of execution. He was regretting now being involved with the mob or any of its affiliates. Most of all, her image now filled his mind with a stark horror. He wondered if he would ever look at her the same way again. All those times they shared....bodies tumbling on the bed with passion, the scent of her hair in his face...he never dreamt for one moment that she was capable of this.
There was a call in his cellphone three days later. 'You're avoiding me.'
'I'm not,' he placated, his heart beating fast, aware that she was a very dangerous woman. 'I've been busy, that's all.'
'No, you're avoiding me. I know you. What I did, I did for us.'
Her admission, though not unexpected, slammed into him like a visceral blow. 'Maddie. it didn't have to be that way.'
There was a silence on the other end. Then, 'I want to see you again. I need you.'
He closed his eyes. He knew he had to go to Canada, or Mexico. Even those weren't far enough. He wondered how long her tentacles would reach. Perhaps he should go back to Ireland where his ancestors came from. 'I'm busy this week, but I'll call you, okay?'
Again, another terrifying pause.
'You're walking out on me, aren't you? You're leaving me? After all I did for you?'
He was amazed at her intuition. 'No I'm not.' He hoped his voice didn't waver. He was glad he was not face to face with her, he didn't know if he could pull it off otherwise. 'I will call you Wednesday. That's a promise.
'Liar.' The phone on the other end went dead.
He had a bad feeling about this. He wondered how long it would take to get a fake passport ready. He had to do several things in a rush. He cursed his lack of foresight now, he should have skipped town the very day he left her at the club. Or maybe it wasn't a lack of foresight. He had known in some deep, subconscious part of him. Perhaps he wanted to believe that someone he had held in his arms and made love to with such passion could not be capable of the dark, twisted things that she had confessed to. And he still believed in semi fairy tales, and that everything would turn out all right. In that lay his true naivete.
It was too late. When he opened the door to his apartment late that night he had wanted to pack a few essential items, then go to a motel, he was confronted by several guns pointing at him.
'So kid, we meet again.'
Somebody switched on the lights. The specter of Detective Javier was standing in the middle of his lounge, with Brennan's gun - the one he had hidden in his drawer - laid down on the carpet in front of him. The detective was much older now and gaunter, but no less terrifying. He was surrounded by several police officers.
Brennan felt his insides turn.
'A while earlier,' Javier said, 'we had an anonymous call that we would find something very interesting in your freezer. And we did. Come on inside, kid. Come and have a look.'
Brennan wondered if it were possible to bolt for it. But there were guns trained on him - three of them - at point blank range. So he raised his hands, and followed the detective inside.
'Nice place you got here, kid. Life been good to you? By the way, it's Captain Javier now.'
'Congratulations on your promotion,' Brennan said wryly.
'You won't have such a mouth when you find out what's inside.' They were at the freezer. Captain Javier was looking at him interestedly. 'Why don't you tell us what's in there?'
'I don't know. Ice cream. What do you want me to say?'
Javier had strapped on some latex gloves. Brennan noted that the handle and in fact, the entire door of the freezer had been dusted for fingerprints. Javier opened it now. Inside, amidst half-eaten tubs of ice cream and ice containers, there was the gruesome sight of a severed hand, all mottled and blue, with a ring on its fourth finger. Brennan felt his carotid artery throbbing. He recognized the ring.
'Kid, I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Eli Solomon.'
*
*
'Emma? Can I come in?'
She turned her head. Her bedroom door was ajar, and she was sitting at her computer, apologizing to Karyn by e-mail about not saying goodbye when they had left. (The truth being, she couldn't find either Karyn or Jimmy through the menagerie of post-orgy people. She had found both Sherry and Dana though, in each other's arms.) 'And it was a lovely party,' she had written. 'Brennan and I had a little party of our own upstairs, along with everybody else (not together with them..you dirty-minded thing). What you said was very important to me. I shall think about it. Thank you for being there when -'
'Hi Jesse.' She hastily saved the mail onto Draft and downsized the Internet window. 'Sure, come in. What can I do for you?'
He was still hovering in the doorway, almost as though he was afraid to step over the threshold.
'Please come in,' she said, in case he hadn't heard her the first time. She wondered what was up with him. He wasn't usually this edgy around her. Then again - she thought back to that night where she had caught the first wave of love unrequited from him, so tortured and stark; an emanation of incredible angst and longing. It was brutal sometimes to have powers like hers, being privy to things she shouldn't be. When she was little, she had eavesdropped on a conversation between her parents; they had been talking about her abilities and how she would possibly (not) fit into the world. Their dissection had not been cushioned for her ears. What she had heard disturbed her. And although she had been the topic of speculation, she had crept away feeling both sorrowful and guilty, like she had stolen a piece of something that was not meant for her. She felt like that now.
Jesse walked in apprehensively. She patted the chair across hers, attempting to bestow her undivided attention upon him, when she was actually feeling ashamed enough to flee. In truth, she was as nervous as she believed he now felt. She was feeling like a trapped she-bear whose cave had been invaded by a suitor no one had prepared her for.
e staHe He sat down, not looking at her. And she had a sudden, dire premonition that he was going to tell her something that would change them both. Oh no, Jesse, she breathed...not now. I don't think I can handle it.
Before she could stop him, he blurted out, 'I know you're having an affair with Brennan.' And there, he had said it. He now seemed relieved; as though he had been harboring a nest of nettles within his chest for such a long time and was now spilling out the toxic bouquet before it could cause him further harm.
She stayed silent, feeling her heart strumming up a staccato, not daring to breathe too deeply for fear the sound itself would be an admission. The air between them was so thick it was almost palpable.
He seemed to take her non-denial as confirmation. A look of pain, so heart-breaking in its intensity, flitted across his features. 'Why, Emma?'
If she had not known about his secret love for her, if she had been like any other normal twenty-one year old, she would have said in surprise and none too politely, 'What's it to you?' But as it was, her talent was her curse. And she was doomed to understand his agony, and to feel responsible for it.
'Jesse...you do know he and I have been friends for such a long time. He was just..' She couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth about Brennan helping her out. It was too private and embarrassing. '..something happened along the way, that's all.'
'But you and I have been friends too. And you've never.....' He trailed off.
'Jesse, is there something you want to tell me?' Although she knew the reason, some insistent (and cruel) part of her still wanted vindication. You started this, Jesse, she was thinking. Now tell me in your own words.
He was quiet for a while. Then he finally said in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible, 'You must know how I feel about you, Emma.'
If she had been stubborn, she would have said, 'No, I don't. Why don't you tell me?' But it would have been a farce. They both knew she knew, and this time, she allowed her silence to be her admission.
'I'm sorry, Jesse,' she said after an elongated pause. 'I do love you, you know. But..not in that way.'
'And you love him? In that way?'
'It didn't start off like that. But after a while..yes.'
'And does he love you? In that way?'
She was thinking that the interrogation was stilted, pockmarked by periods of strangled silence. If she considered herself in torment, she wondered what it must be for him. 'I don't know. I don't know how he feels about me. But I do know that I love him.'
It was all she could do to be honest.
'And how do you know he's not just using you?'
Jesse was too cultured to use the words 'fucking around with you', but she knew what he meant. 'He's not. Trust me on this. It's more like I'm using him.'
Jesse looked away, and she was glad because she didn't want to see the hurt in his eyes. And when he finally spoke, it was like a catharsis.
'It's always him, isn't it? Everything's about him. Adam, Shalimar -' he gave a short laugh. 'He just breezes in from the cold and takes everything away. Why? Because he's flashy? And loud? Have you seen him out there, Emma? Have you seen how he behaves around women? I have. He just takes their hearts and rips them into little pieces. And he doesn't even care!'
'No,' Emma avowed. 'I have seen what's inside him. You don't know him, Jesse. He's not like that.'
Jesse shook his head, a gesture that conveyed both incredulity and hopelessness. 'He's got you so wrapped up around his little finger. I suppose he's got that in him, sometimes he gets me wrapped up around his finger too. God...' He closed his eyes, '...how I wish for one moment I can be like him. Mr. Perfect. Doesn't have problems. Always super-cool. On top of everything, literally.'
He looked down at his knees, a gesture of such defeat that Emma felt a pang. 'I would give anything to be like him if that's what it takes for you to notice me.'
Emma felt her heart contracting. 'Jesse, I do notice you. You're beautiful the way you are. Don't ever wish you were someone else. He's just...different, that's all.'
'And that's what you like.'
'I don't know what I like. I only know what I feel.' She took his hand. 'This is not about him, so don't let's talk about him anymore. This is about you and me.'
'It is about him,' he said in a monotone. 'Tell me Emma, if he weren't in the picture, would you think I'm worth a chance? He'll only hurt you, you know. I know guys like him. He can't be with one woman for long. If you were Shal, I'd tell you the same thing.'
'I know,' Emma whispered. 'You're not the only person who sees that.'
'I'm just looking out for you, Emma. And maybe I have my selfish reasons, but I don't want to see you get hurt.' He withdrew his hand from hers, almost as though it hurt him to touch her; and spoke without looking into her eyes. 'I know I'm not him, or anything like him. I don't have what he has, that charm or charisma or whatever you call it that attracts people to him. I'm just a simple guy who's in love with you, and I would never never hurt you. Maybe you might think that's worth a chance.'
She felt tears springing to her eyes, and bit back her lip.
'Just think about it, okay?' he said. 'That's all I'm asking. You said this love thing wasn't overnight between you and him either. It might be the same thing for you and me. Some things take time. And when you sort out what you are feeling, know that I'm right here for you. Waiting.'
He was making it impossible for her to walk away unscarred. Don't do this, Jesse, she pleaded desperately. I don't need such conflict right now.
She found her voice. 'It isn't fair to you. You should be free to do anything you want. You don't have to wait for me.'
'I've got a lot of time to kill.' He gave her a sad smile. 'But I can't wait forever, okay?'
She nodded. She could live with that.
'You still want to go through it with him? He might not be worth it, you know.'
'I have to try, even if he hurts me.' She closed her eyes, feeling the tears squeeze out shamefully. 'Or I'll die never knowing.'
*
It was really nice sometimes just to go out girl and girl, and Emma missed doing that recently with Shalimar. She had been avoiding her friend, mainly because of Brennan; she felt horribly duplicitous and she couldn't quite trust herself to meet Shalimar's eyes. But when Shal asked her out for coffee to just 'talk about girl stuff', she couldn't say no.
And she was glad she came, because she was enjoying it. It was easier when she didn't have to think about him or Jesse or the whole mess she had created for herself. And they had chatted inconsequentially about things in general. Like movies, music and clothes. And how Adam was totally screwing up their lives.
Shal was looking a lot better than she had in recent weeks. In fact, she had gained a lot of color, and she was in positive spirits. She's starting to glow again, thought Emma, feeling glad for her friend. She must have gotten over Brennan.
'You look like you've met a guy,' Emma teased.
Shal flushed a little, which was so unlike her that Emma wanted to giggle. 'Well...in a manner of speaking...'
'Oooh. Do tell. Where did you meet him?'
Shal took a deep breath. 'You remember when we talked in your room?'
'Uh huh.' Most of all, she remembered the guilt trip. She seemed to be going on a lot of guilt trips recently with the people in her life. It was becoming routine.
'Well,' Shal continued. 'I got to thinking that wasn't really me. And the real me would go out and make things happen, like I always have. And so..I did.'
Emma nodded in encouragement. 'And...?'
'That's what I meant. I went out and made things happen.' Shalimar leaned across the table and took Emma's hand jubilantly. 'I decided to..like they say...seize the day. And so I took the plunge, and it was wonderful.
'Oh Emma.' Her eyes were shining and she gave the hand a little squeeze, 'Brennan and I finally made love.'
TBC
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, except for my own. The rest belong to Tribune Entertainment.
I just wanted to inform everyone that one of my friends has been booted from ff.net temporarily, thanks to some complaints. Now why is this so? She's an absolutely wonderful writer, and now it's everyone's loss if she can't post MX fic anymore. I really don't understand the motivation for this, and we should be celebrating writers and encouraging them, not the opposite. We all have differing styles. One may not like all of them, but it's important to remember we are all aspiring writers, so we need to be uplifted.
Okay, off my soapbox now. This chapter is rated R upfront for sex and violence, and PG13 later.
'Sometimes it's for the best,' he was trying to say through the maelstrom rushing in her ears. 'The first time for most women can be traumatic, in my experience. And some women never get to like it. Most of them go for the hearts and flowers stuff, that's why romance sells with women and not porn. But oh, I'm sorry.. I honestly thought you did experience it. You were quite uninhibited last night.'
He was beginning to sound like the Kinsey report. He was sitting up, the quilt falling away; and he was hugging her, stroking her bare arm in consternation.
'It's not that, Bren.' It was early in the morning and her head was already splitting. She knew there was a reason why she didn't drink, sometimes she just conveniently forgot it. 'I can't think right now..' And damn it, I love you and you're not giving me a chance to figure out how to tell you that '..it's just that I didn't expect it to happen so quickly.'
She wondered if she could turn back the clock. Like that woman they had met with the time travel abilities, Diana-what's-her-name? Where was she now? Damn it. Would she be willing to help? What was the use of being an empath if you can't even control what you're feeling?
And now. She would be forced to tell him now.
Oh Bren, I love you. I know I said I wouldn't, but somewhere along the way I fell in love with you. You have no idea how much I love you. And please don't push me away because I can't bear it.
No. Too intense. He would be turned off, especially if he didn't share her sentiments. That was what she couldn't bear really - the rejection, if it came. 'If' was such a cruel, dangerous word. If nothing else, she would want to keep his friendship. But how do you keep a friendship when certain words have been parlayed, certain raw emotions laid bare for scrutiny?
And is it not possible, a little voice spoke, that he might love you the way you want him to?
It suddenly dawned upon her that it was her psychological make-up that would not allow this possibility to be so. All her uncertainties, her insecurities 'You always seemed to be ashamed of yourself,' Karyn had rightly said , her ambiguities, her disappointments; her failed love affairs, their unhappy culmination....everything that had added to the stones structuring her self-deprecating pyramid.
Nothing had ever worked out for her. Nothing had ever gone the way she wanted it to, despite the considerable powers at her disposal. What made her think that this friendship-turned-love affair would?
Give me a lifeline, Bren, she pleaded silently. Help me out here.
Some of it must have been projected tele-emphatically, because he took her hand. And said, 'All right, I promise you. We'll do this again. And you're going to enjoy every moment of it, awake.'
Her spirits lifted.
He added, 'No alcohol for you this time. And after this, you're free to go and get your own hot dates.' There was a pregnant pause. 'I really had fun, you know. This past month.'
There was no inflection in his voice, so she looked up to gaze into his eyes. There was just the slightest pang of regret. (Or was it even regret? Had she projected her own desires into her observations, like a melancholic wish list?) He looked awkwardly away.
Oh, her tortured, battered heart...
'We've still one more date,' she commiserated miserably. She was buying time for herself; it was as clear as that. Such a cowardly act. And she was behaving exactly like all those magazine article women who cannot handle rejection; who reject before they can be rejected; such pitiful helpless souls, all of them. 'It's a date,' he promised. 'Now let's go before they make us pay for all the booze.'
*
*
'Love can manifest itself in different, dangerous ways,' Brennan told Emma several days later on a grocery trip, while she was still waiting for that hot date. 'Not that I thought it had anything to do with love in the beginning.'
He never had a woman who desired him so much. But Maddie was right. She was like a drug. He went back to her again and again. At first it was just naked, unadulterated lust. Each time they secretly met - in a seedy motel, in his apartment - as soon as he locked the bedroom door behind them, she would rip his clothes off and ravish him. She craved his body like an intoxicant, both physically and voyeuristically. She couldn't seem to get enough of him. Even when he was deep inside her, she wanted him closer.
She showed him a picture of a Daliesque painting. 'I want us to have sex like this, melting into each other in one wet flow, so there's no beginning and no end. Can you do that?'
'Maddie, this is a surrealist painting. There's no such thing.'
She was also very much into the kinky stuff. She was into bondage and fetish wear, which suited him fine. But he drew the line at other things. He couldn't even begin to outline those other things. He had to. She was a walking erotica dictionary, and if he allowed her to lead, she would have tried him out on everything. And there were just some things that he couldn't - wouldn't - do.
One day, after she had strapped him onto her bed, she took out a camcorder.
'No,' he immediately said. 'No videotaping.'
'But I want to look at you when you're not around. You're hardly around and I need my fix.'
'Go rent a video like the rest of us. Or get a magazine.'
'But I want you in them.'
'Sorry, I don't do videos.' She made a move to press the 'on' button anyway. 'Maddie, if you do this, I swear I will walk after tonight.'
She put down the camcorder. 'You're such a prude.'
He wanted to laugh. No one had ever called him a prude before. He gasped as she pounced on him suddenly, crushing the air out of him with her weight. She produced a three-tongued whip - where the heck did that come from? - and curled it around his neck.
Putting her face close to his, she said, 'Don't you ever ever threaten to walk out on me again. You understand?'
When he good-naturedly acquiesced, she added, ' I will now have to punish you.'
'That was the first time I had any indication that there was a deadly undercurrent about her,' Brennan said. 'Though it made the sex even more exciting, better than any I'd ever had before. The part about me forfeiting my life every time I went back to her was also very real, which added of course to the whole intoxication package.' He sighed. 'Why do we always crave the things that are bad for us?'
I should be asking myself that, Emma thought.
As the months went by, he was acutely aware that the danger was escalating. Worse still, she was getting adventurous. She wanted to get it on with him in public places. Like a restroom stall in a subway station. Or a back alley. Under a table at a fetish club. There was always an element of being seen by someone who knew either of them, and he was aware that Mr. Carolco had many spies.
He had it bad. He was turning into a danger addict, living on the edge of reason, mingling his passion with a frenetic disregard for consequence. He had always been a risk taker, but now he was practically reveling in it. It was almost as though he had a death wish.
In one instance, when he had just woken up in her bed, he caught her staring at him. As his eyes met hers, she looked abruptly away.
'You're not falling in love with me, are you, Maddie?' He asked, stroking her hair.
'Of course not,' she quickly said. 'You're just a body to me. Whatever made you think that?'
There was so little softness in her that he felt sorry. He wondered what had happened in her life that made her that way. A subliminal part of him wondered too if he could bring out the woman in her.
He knew it was too good to be true, them carrying on without anybody finding out. It had to happen. And for him, D-day came when Eli was briefing him about a bank heist he was supposed to plan.
The lieutenant paused in mid-presentation. 'Come into my room, kid, I want to show you something.'
Heart pumping with a sudden surge of adrenaline, Brennan followed him.
'Sit here,' Eli indicated the armchair in front of a TV monitor.
He felt his bile rise within as Eli inserted a videotape and pressed 'Play.' A shockingly clear image of him - naked, handcuffed to the bed and painfully erect - came onscreen. The angle was static and amateurish, as though the camera was placed in one spot from a distance. As he watched, a deep-seated horror taking root, Maddie appeared onscreen. She turned to flash a sultry smile at the camera. Then she straddled him on the bed and began to move her hips, proffering the lens a embarrassingly stark posterior view of their coupling.
'Where...where.. did you get this?' he whispered, aware his mouth was very, very dry.
Eli said grimly. 'Walls have eyes. One of the maids found quite a collection in a secret cache somewhere in Mr. Carolco's house. Naturally, she played them, as people are wont to play all hidden tapes. For weeks, she didn't know what to do. And finally, she brought them to me, since I hired all of Mr. Carolco's staff.'
Brennan was suddenly very, very scared. He wondered what it took to get away from here, and if he had to skip the country. Subconsciously, he felt a charge building. If that was what it took...
'You shouldn't have videotaped yourself fucking, kid. That was a stupid thing to do.'
She must have done it without his knowledge, using a hidden camera. Damn the woman..He wondered how much voltage it would take to shock Eli without killing him.
Behind him, Eli said quietly. 'I've been with Vincent for eighteen years. He took me in from the streets. Gave me an identity, a place to belong. I've seen his children grow up. I've seen him through a divorce, and his first daughter's wedding. And I've seen him seal an alliance with the Family by marrying Madeleine LaPaglia. You do know who she is, don't you? Her folks are from New York, and they pretty much belong to the First Family there. She's an untouchable. That leaves only you.'
He knew Eli always carried a gun, and that his favorite execution style was a bullet to the temple. One shot. No questions asked. 'She seduced me first.'
'Of course.' Eli bent down, putting his mouth very close to Brennan's ear. 'And now I'm offering you a way out. I don't want to see Vincent go through this. Confrontation is too messy. Upsets people in New York, if you know what I mean. So I want you to walk away from her. Tell her it's over. And if he wasn't so fond of you, I would suggest you find a new line of employment.'
'How do I know you won't just kill me after I end it?'
'You don't know that. But at least you'll know you'll be doing the decent thing for a man who's been good to you. So I suggest you buy yourself brownie points, and maybe I might relent.'
*
He had to do it. Eli was right. It was the decent thing to do, though part of him was not sorry he had had Maddie. But now there had to be closure. And then he had to skip town. He didn't believe for one moment that Eli was going to let him go without repercussions. He was young, but he wasn't naïve.
So he arranged to meet Maddie at a secluded booth in their usual fetish club. When she arrived, her hand immediately dove down between his legs, but he pushed it away. 'We've got to talk.'
He told here what happened with Eli. She listened, expressionless. And when he reproached for making videotapes, she said, 'But I wanted to look at you. I needed to. You never understood that.'
Again, he wondered if she was in love with him. Or if for her, love and lust had mired themselves into one confusing Daliesque continuum. Perhaps her voyeurism was a psychological manifestation, and it wasn't for him to cure it. She seriously needed a shrink. 'Look, I'm flattered. But maybe you should have just stuck a photo of me in your wallet, though that's dangerous in itself. As it is, I have to leave. I can't see you again.'
There was a high color in her cheeks. She breathed sharply, her chest rising and falling. 'No, don't leave. Just stay put. I'll take care of it.'
'What do you mean you'll take care of it? It's over.'
'Just trust me okay?'
*
He had his suspicions, and perhaps he didn't want to fully acknowledge them at first. But when Eli went missing, his hackles were raised.
'Why are you so interested, Mulwray? I thought you didn't like him.'
Careful, he thought. He didn't want suspicion to befall him. 'We were supposed to go over the heist.'
'He's probably around.' His seasoned associate raised an eyebrow. 'Sometimes they go on urgent covert missions, you know, like the CIA. They don't tell people, it's a need to know thing. Eli's disappeared before. He's always turned up.'
'Yeah, but you know, I thought he should have left word or something,' he mumbled.
'Then again, the world's a dangerous place. Like there was this mugging yesterday on one of Mr. Carolco's own household help. They dragged her to a back alley when she was going home, took all her cash but not before raping her and slitting her throat. Like I said, the world's a violent place.'
Suddenly, he felt the world spinning.
'You okay, Mulwray?'
'Yeah...I uh...just need to go take a leak.'
He walked slowly to the bathroom tread carefully, he told himself , turned on the sink faucet and splashed water on his face. Oh God..God...Maddie.. How did he get himself involved in this?
His worst fears were confirmed when the police fished out a decomposed body from the river two days later. They identified it as Elijah Solomon, manager of a successful health spa which was Eli's front, though Brennan was sure they had accumulated files on Eli's other activities, but didn't have enough evidence to make an arrest. The body was in bad shape. Apparently, the fishes had chewed up its hands and face. The coroner had to make a dental identification.
He spent the next few nights restless, unable to sleep. He was not a stranger to violence, having lived with it all his life, but this particular one unnerved him in its brutality and swiftness of execution. He was regretting now being involved with the mob or any of its affiliates. Most of all, her image now filled his mind with a stark horror. He wondered if he would ever look at her the same way again. All those times they shared....bodies tumbling on the bed with passion, the scent of her hair in his face...he never dreamt for one moment that she was capable of this.
There was a call in his cellphone three days later. 'You're avoiding me.'
'I'm not,' he placated, his heart beating fast, aware that she was a very dangerous woman. 'I've been busy, that's all.'
'No, you're avoiding me. I know you. What I did, I did for us.'
Her admission, though not unexpected, slammed into him like a visceral blow. 'Maddie. it didn't have to be that way.'
There was a silence on the other end. Then, 'I want to see you again. I need you.'
He closed his eyes. He knew he had to go to Canada, or Mexico. Even those weren't far enough. He wondered how long her tentacles would reach. Perhaps he should go back to Ireland where his ancestors came from. 'I'm busy this week, but I'll call you, okay?'
Again, another terrifying pause.
'You're walking out on me, aren't you? You're leaving me? After all I did for you?'
He was amazed at her intuition. 'No I'm not.' He hoped his voice didn't waver. He was glad he was not face to face with her, he didn't know if he could pull it off otherwise. 'I will call you Wednesday. That's a promise.
'Liar.' The phone on the other end went dead.
He had a bad feeling about this. He wondered how long it would take to get a fake passport ready. He had to do several things in a rush. He cursed his lack of foresight now, he should have skipped town the very day he left her at the club. Or maybe it wasn't a lack of foresight. He had known in some deep, subconscious part of him. Perhaps he wanted to believe that someone he had held in his arms and made love to with such passion could not be capable of the dark, twisted things that she had confessed to. And he still believed in semi fairy tales, and that everything would turn out all right. In that lay his true naivete.
It was too late. When he opened the door to his apartment late that night he had wanted to pack a few essential items, then go to a motel, he was confronted by several guns pointing at him.
'So kid, we meet again.'
Somebody switched on the lights. The specter of Detective Javier was standing in the middle of his lounge, with Brennan's gun - the one he had hidden in his drawer - laid down on the carpet in front of him. The detective was much older now and gaunter, but no less terrifying. He was surrounded by several police officers.
Brennan felt his insides turn.
'A while earlier,' Javier said, 'we had an anonymous call that we would find something very interesting in your freezer. And we did. Come on inside, kid. Come and have a look.'
Brennan wondered if it were possible to bolt for it. But there were guns trained on him - three of them - at point blank range. So he raised his hands, and followed the detective inside.
'Nice place you got here, kid. Life been good to you? By the way, it's Captain Javier now.'
'Congratulations on your promotion,' Brennan said wryly.
'You won't have such a mouth when you find out what's inside.' They were at the freezer. Captain Javier was looking at him interestedly. 'Why don't you tell us what's in there?'
'I don't know. Ice cream. What do you want me to say?'
Javier had strapped on some latex gloves. Brennan noted that the handle and in fact, the entire door of the freezer had been dusted for fingerprints. Javier opened it now. Inside, amidst half-eaten tubs of ice cream and ice containers, there was the gruesome sight of a severed hand, all mottled and blue, with a ring on its fourth finger. Brennan felt his carotid artery throbbing. He recognized the ring.
'Kid, I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Eli Solomon.'
*
*
'Emma? Can I come in?'
She turned her head. Her bedroom door was ajar, and she was sitting at her computer, apologizing to Karyn by e-mail about not saying goodbye when they had left. (The truth being, she couldn't find either Karyn or Jimmy through the menagerie of post-orgy people. She had found both Sherry and Dana though, in each other's arms.) 'And it was a lovely party,' she had written. 'Brennan and I had a little party of our own upstairs, along with everybody else (not together with them..you dirty-minded thing). What you said was very important to me. I shall think about it. Thank you for being there when -'
'Hi Jesse.' She hastily saved the mail onto Draft and downsized the Internet window. 'Sure, come in. What can I do for you?'
He was still hovering in the doorway, almost as though he was afraid to step over the threshold.
'Please come in,' she said, in case he hadn't heard her the first time. She wondered what was up with him. He wasn't usually this edgy around her. Then again - she thought back to that night where she had caught the first wave of love unrequited from him, so tortured and stark; an emanation of incredible angst and longing. It was brutal sometimes to have powers like hers, being privy to things she shouldn't be. When she was little, she had eavesdropped on a conversation between her parents; they had been talking about her abilities and how she would possibly (not) fit into the world. Their dissection had not been cushioned for her ears. What she had heard disturbed her. And although she had been the topic of speculation, she had crept away feeling both sorrowful and guilty, like she had stolen a piece of something that was not meant for her. She felt like that now.
Jesse walked in apprehensively. She patted the chair across hers, attempting to bestow her undivided attention upon him, when she was actually feeling ashamed enough to flee. In truth, she was as nervous as she believed he now felt. She was feeling like a trapped she-bear whose cave had been invaded by a suitor no one had prepared her for.
e staHe He sat down, not looking at her. And she had a sudden, dire premonition that he was going to tell her something that would change them both. Oh no, Jesse, she breathed...not now. I don't think I can handle it.
Before she could stop him, he blurted out, 'I know you're having an affair with Brennan.' And there, he had said it. He now seemed relieved; as though he had been harboring a nest of nettles within his chest for such a long time and was now spilling out the toxic bouquet before it could cause him further harm.
She stayed silent, feeling her heart strumming up a staccato, not daring to breathe too deeply for fear the sound itself would be an admission. The air between them was so thick it was almost palpable.
He seemed to take her non-denial as confirmation. A look of pain, so heart-breaking in its intensity, flitted across his features. 'Why, Emma?'
If she had not known about his secret love for her, if she had been like any other normal twenty-one year old, she would have said in surprise and none too politely, 'What's it to you?' But as it was, her talent was her curse. And she was doomed to understand his agony, and to feel responsible for it.
'Jesse...you do know he and I have been friends for such a long time. He was just..' She couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth about Brennan helping her out. It was too private and embarrassing. '..something happened along the way, that's all.'
'But you and I have been friends too. And you've never.....' He trailed off.
'Jesse, is there something you want to tell me?' Although she knew the reason, some insistent (and cruel) part of her still wanted vindication. You started this, Jesse, she was thinking. Now tell me in your own words.
He was quiet for a while. Then he finally said in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible, 'You must know how I feel about you, Emma.'
If she had been stubborn, she would have said, 'No, I don't. Why don't you tell me?' But it would have been a farce. They both knew she knew, and this time, she allowed her silence to be her admission.
'I'm sorry, Jesse,' she said after an elongated pause. 'I do love you, you know. But..not in that way.'
'And you love him? In that way?'
'It didn't start off like that. But after a while..yes.'
'And does he love you? In that way?'
She was thinking that the interrogation was stilted, pockmarked by periods of strangled silence. If she considered herself in torment, she wondered what it must be for him. 'I don't know. I don't know how he feels about me. But I do know that I love him.'
It was all she could do to be honest.
'And how do you know he's not just using you?'
Jesse was too cultured to use the words 'fucking around with you', but she knew what he meant. 'He's not. Trust me on this. It's more like I'm using him.'
Jesse looked away, and she was glad because she didn't want to see the hurt in his eyes. And when he finally spoke, it was like a catharsis.
'It's always him, isn't it? Everything's about him. Adam, Shalimar -' he gave a short laugh. 'He just breezes in from the cold and takes everything away. Why? Because he's flashy? And loud? Have you seen him out there, Emma? Have you seen how he behaves around women? I have. He just takes their hearts and rips them into little pieces. And he doesn't even care!'
'No,' Emma avowed. 'I have seen what's inside him. You don't know him, Jesse. He's not like that.'
Jesse shook his head, a gesture that conveyed both incredulity and hopelessness. 'He's got you so wrapped up around his little finger. I suppose he's got that in him, sometimes he gets me wrapped up around his finger too. God...' He closed his eyes, '...how I wish for one moment I can be like him. Mr. Perfect. Doesn't have problems. Always super-cool. On top of everything, literally.'
He looked down at his knees, a gesture of such defeat that Emma felt a pang. 'I would give anything to be like him if that's what it takes for you to notice me.'
Emma felt her heart contracting. 'Jesse, I do notice you. You're beautiful the way you are. Don't ever wish you were someone else. He's just...different, that's all.'
'And that's what you like.'
'I don't know what I like. I only know what I feel.' She took his hand. 'This is not about him, so don't let's talk about him anymore. This is about you and me.'
'It is about him,' he said in a monotone. 'Tell me Emma, if he weren't in the picture, would you think I'm worth a chance? He'll only hurt you, you know. I know guys like him. He can't be with one woman for long. If you were Shal, I'd tell you the same thing.'
'I know,' Emma whispered. 'You're not the only person who sees that.'
'I'm just looking out for you, Emma. And maybe I have my selfish reasons, but I don't want to see you get hurt.' He withdrew his hand from hers, almost as though it hurt him to touch her; and spoke without looking into her eyes. 'I know I'm not him, or anything like him. I don't have what he has, that charm or charisma or whatever you call it that attracts people to him. I'm just a simple guy who's in love with you, and I would never never hurt you. Maybe you might think that's worth a chance.'
She felt tears springing to her eyes, and bit back her lip.
'Just think about it, okay?' he said. 'That's all I'm asking. You said this love thing wasn't overnight between you and him either. It might be the same thing for you and me. Some things take time. And when you sort out what you are feeling, know that I'm right here for you. Waiting.'
He was making it impossible for her to walk away unscarred. Don't do this, Jesse, she pleaded desperately. I don't need such conflict right now.
She found her voice. 'It isn't fair to you. You should be free to do anything you want. You don't have to wait for me.'
'I've got a lot of time to kill.' He gave her a sad smile. 'But I can't wait forever, okay?'
She nodded. She could live with that.
'You still want to go through it with him? He might not be worth it, you know.'
'I have to try, even if he hurts me.' She closed her eyes, feeling the tears squeeze out shamefully. 'Or I'll die never knowing.'
*
It was really nice sometimes just to go out girl and girl, and Emma missed doing that recently with Shalimar. She had been avoiding her friend, mainly because of Brennan; she felt horribly duplicitous and she couldn't quite trust herself to meet Shalimar's eyes. But when Shal asked her out for coffee to just 'talk about girl stuff', she couldn't say no.
And she was glad she came, because she was enjoying it. It was easier when she didn't have to think about him or Jesse or the whole mess she had created for herself. And they had chatted inconsequentially about things in general. Like movies, music and clothes. And how Adam was totally screwing up their lives.
Shal was looking a lot better than she had in recent weeks. In fact, she had gained a lot of color, and she was in positive spirits. She's starting to glow again, thought Emma, feeling glad for her friend. She must have gotten over Brennan.
'You look like you've met a guy,' Emma teased.
Shal flushed a little, which was so unlike her that Emma wanted to giggle. 'Well...in a manner of speaking...'
'Oooh. Do tell. Where did you meet him?'
Shal took a deep breath. 'You remember when we talked in your room?'
'Uh huh.' Most of all, she remembered the guilt trip. She seemed to be going on a lot of guilt trips recently with the people in her life. It was becoming routine.
'Well,' Shal continued. 'I got to thinking that wasn't really me. And the real me would go out and make things happen, like I always have. And so..I did.'
Emma nodded in encouragement. 'And...?'
'That's what I meant. I went out and made things happen.' Shalimar leaned across the table and took Emma's hand jubilantly. 'I decided to..like they say...seize the day. And so I took the plunge, and it was wonderful.
'Oh Emma.' Her eyes were shining and she gave the hand a little squeeze, 'Brennan and I finally made love.'
TBC