Over the past few months, a lot of folks have been asking questions, extremely curious about what a collaboration between Keith Gaston and myself would look like. I'm really excited to see that so many readers are eager to dig into the pages of "Blood & Vengeance." I'm in a great mood today so I've decided to tease you with the first five chapters. Enjoy!
1
SWEET SASSY´S SUITE
The tiny bedroom
reeked of marijuana mixed with the faint odor of the perfumes she sprayed and
the incense she burned to try to mask the scent. She smoked weed way more than
she ate which worked out perfectly in her profession. It was almost a job
requirement that she protect her slender waistline at all times but she also needed
to medicate herself to keep her mind right, just to make it through her shifts
with her sanity intact. Sassy needed the stranger’s faces and male parts that
she was forced to get familiar with to become a blur. That way, she could wash
away the pain and stains of their touch when she showered. Otherwise, she
feared that they would leave the type of scars that only she could feel and
see. At the moment, she remained fairly sober because she didn’t mind the
company of the guest that currently laid his head on her bed. Will Samson was
special. Everyone on the street outside must have heard her moaning, despite
the fact that he wasn’t even the best lover that she had been with. All the
same, everything that she felt inside her body while she was with him was all
real. She had seen all shapes, ages, races and sizes of men but she sexually
connected with him differently than she had with anyone else. That was probably
because, if her suspicions were correct, she had been his first. It turned her
on and excited her to know that she had basically trained him how to please
her. There was also something deeper about him, something that she couldn’t
explain with words but whatever it was, she had never felt it in any other man.
The evening air was
stagnant and not much breeze blew through the open window. The noisy ceiling
fan really didn’t do much about the sweltering heat as it spun weakly overhead
and squeaked like a distressed mouse caught on a sticky, glue trap. Her skin
shined and glistened with fresh perspiration but she didn’t mind the way it
made her skin glow. She was sure that her favorite lover liked it too.
Will’s
nine-millimeter handgun sat in its holster, slung over the metal folding chair
in the corner. In the dark, she couldn’t see his eyes clearly but she could
sense him straining in the poor light to look at it. He was always wound up and
paranoid, no matter how intense or satisfying the sex was. Whenever that gun wasn’t firmly in his hand
or safely secured near his left armpit, a few inches from his heart, he would
stare it at almost as if he expected it to grow wings and fly away.
“Who do you love,
me or her?” Sassy asked, referring to the gun he kept staring at.
“Her,” Will
answered dryly.
“All this ass,
these tits and this pretty face but you love it and not me?”
“She’ll save my
life...you’ll get me killed. One day, I’ll probably have to use her to save me
from you,” he answered.
“I would never hurt
you. Have you ever considered that maybe I love you?” she asked, realizing how
ridiculous it was that she felt like the mistress, second place to a black,
cold, metal gun.
“I doubt that.”
“Why?”
“You don’t love
men. You don’t love me. You don’t even love yourself. You only love
money...because you believe it can save you from everything you hate.”
“That’s a cruel
thing to say.”
“Not cruel...honest,”
he answered coldly.
“Suppose I told you
that I slept with three other men today?”
“Then that’s what
you did. You don’t belong to anyone, especially not me.”
He climbed out of
bed and walked over to the folding chair to get dressed in the dark. He didn’t
like when she started to get emotional and sentimental with him. Those moments
seriously threatened to make him forget what she was and he knew that that was
dangerous, for his life and his heart. Sassy leaned over and turned the black
switch on the lamp on the nightstand. The room was instantly filled with a
tacky, rouge glow because of the thin scarf she had thrown over the shade to
soften the light.
“Why’d you turn the
lights on?” he asked.
“I like looking at
you,” she answered, lustfully studying his scars and tattoos.
Will looked back
over his shoulder as she lay naked in the bed and wished that he had left the
lights on during their high-spirited sexual romp. She really was something to
behold. If her skin wasn’t marred with tacky, poorly drawn tattoos, she would
have looked almost like a woman straight out of a painting, graceful, elegant
and flawless. All the same, her imperfections made her desirable in a way that
inspired the nastiest of thoughts in most men. He looked away from her before
he was tempted to turn his short stay into an all-nighter. He had
things to do and he had put them off for long enough. He really shouldn’t have
kept her company for as long as he had but he believed that if he might not
survive the night, he wanted to die with the recent memories of a woman’s
thighs fresh on his mind. It might even have been good luck because he hadn’t
been kissed by death just yet.
“You really don’t
care about me do you?” she asked, pouting with her head on her white satin
pillow. She saved her best white linens for his visits.
“I do.”
“You have a funny
way of showing it,” she said, sounding as cliché as a line straight out of a
romantic comedy.
“How am I supposed
to show it?”
“I don’t know,” she
answered then paused. “You never say sweet things or do anything nice for me.”
Fully dressed with
his gun securely strapped in place, he walked over to the bed and sat down next
to her. He looked into her sad eyes and carefully weighed what he would say
next.
“You work in a
house of lies. Men come here and spend money to feel important and the women
pretend to enjoy dancing for their howling amusement, to boost these petty,
unimportant men’s egos so they can stomach going home to face their small,
miserable lives with their wives. Men come here to fool themselves into
believing that they can afford the part of you that their hands can never
touch. You will never give that to any of them. That game plays out over and
over again, every night, in all of these little back rooms. This...what we’re
doing...is the only real truth.”
“You’re too
complicated.”
“I’m not. The truth
is always simple, basic and easy. Fantasies and lies get complicated because
it’s hard to keep them believable.”
He leaned close to
her face in a rare tender moment and pressed his lips to her forehead. Sassy
smiled and got butterflies in her tummy like a school girl anticipating her
first kiss. That delicate moment didn’t last long and she felt foolish for
thinking it would.
“Doesn’t that mean
it’s time for you to go?” she asked as his phone began to ring in his pocket.
“In a few more
minutes. I want to spend a little more time with you,” he answered and for the
next ten minutes, he ran his fingers along the smooth curves of her face and
played in her hair as if he was looking at her for the last time. Then, almost
as if he had been coldly calculating the time that had passed with clocklike
precision, he abruptly got up from her bed.
“Would you care if
I got hurt or killed?” she asked.
“I would shed tears
at your funeral,” he answered and Sassy couldn’t tell if he was being sincere
or sarcastic.
Will counted out a
thousand dollars and tossed it on the pillow where his head had rested for the
two hours he had spent with her. She reached across lazily to pick up the knot
of money but didn’t bother to count it.
“You left way too
much,” she said as he walked to the door, certain that, as usual, he overpaid
for his stay in her land of milk and honey.
“I didn’t. I left
exactly what I owe you. The extra is for the information you got for me,” he
answered and walked out of her room.
2
Bible Thumper
Becoming aware of the approaching man, the posture of the officer
posted outside the interview room hardened. “Who are you,” he barked, holding
up a restraining hand that left no doubt he wouldn’t allow any unauthorized
personnel inside.
“Special Agent Royce,” the man answered, three-fingering his cred pack
from his shirt pocket, flashing his badge and ID card.
The officer scrutinized the credentials. “DOJID? Never heard of it.”
Mechanically, Royce answered, “Department of Justice Infringement
Division.” The officer’s observation hadn’t surprised him at all. He’d been
getting that same reaction a lot lately. The agency was only three weeks old
and he its only field agent. “It’s fairly new. Just more letters to include in
the federal law enforcement alphabet soup.”
“I’m not sure I’m supposed to let you inside. Maybe I should check with
one of the detectives involved with the case first,” the officer said
scratching his head.
Royce read the name tag above the officer’s breast pocket and then
produced some paperwork from another pocket. “Look, Northouse. This paperwork
authorizes me to do whatever I like. I know this is a local case and as far as
I’m concerned, it can stay that way. The suspect in the interview room may have
information on a related investigation I’m working on. All I need is a few
minutes with him, after that, I don’t care what happens to him.”
Northouse took the documentation, his eyes moving left and then right
as he scanned every word. After several drawn out minutes, Royce wondered if he
should have let the man contact the detectives. Then the officer handed back
the paperwork.
“I can’t let you go in with your weapon, Fed or not,” Northouse said in
a gruff voice. He pointed to a table to the right with a metal lockbox. “Place
your pistol inside there.”
Royce upholstered his Glock and placed it into the containing. He
noticed a thick, worn, bible beside the lockbox. “Yours?”
The officer shook his head.
“Mind if I take the good book inside with me?” Royce asked.
“Whatever,” Northouse replied, opening the door to the interview room.
Royce entered the room, the bible gripped in his fingers. Seated firmly
in a chair behind a nondescript gray metal table the suspect, Reggie Dobski,
eyed him with obvious resentment.
“Who the hell are you?” Dobski barked. His gaze shot down to the bible
in the other man’s hand. “You some kind of preacher man, here to save my soul?”
A harsh laugh followed his question.
Royce waited until the door closed behind him before he spoke. “Who I
am doesn’t matter.” Glancing around the room, he sought and found the
surveillance equipment. “But I am interesting in you baring your soul to me.”
Dobski craned his head around following Royce’s moving in the small
room. “What the hell are you babbling about, man? And what are you doing?”
Reaching up to the camera perched in a corner; the agent disarmed the
unit by pulling out the audio and video cables. When he finished, he circled
around the table to stand across from the suspect. He slapped the bible down
hard on the flat metal surface, his palm laid atop of it.
The man stared up at him in stunned silence, not knowing what to make
of him.
“I have little time and require quite a bit of information from you
Reggie. We both know you’re not going to simply answer my questions because I
have a winning smile. So, I’m going to appeal to in an unexpected way…” He
lifted the bible. “I’m going to do this with the word of God.”
Dobski laughed. “You’re waiting your time, Mr. No Name. There’s nothing
in that book going to get me to talk.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Kiss my ass.”
Royce blew out an exhausted breath feigning disappointment. Casually
lifting up the book, he rounded the table until he stood alongside Dobski.
“You’re not a good man, Reggie. You’ve hurt a lot of people, said and done bad
things. You’ve pretty much have broken every commandment.”
“Kiss my ass.”
“One,” Royce said, “Do not worship any other gods.” His arm came up
smacking Dobski hard underneath the jaw with the bible, forcing him out of the
chair like he popped a cork off a champagne bottle and onto the floor.
“You son of a bitch,” Dobski screamed, spitting blood. A tooth wiggled
inside his mouth. “What’s the matter with you? You can’t hit me!”
Royce hit him again, striking him in the temple. “Do not make any
idols.”
Dobski’s pain-laden shouts filled the room, becoming Royce’s universe.
He got up to the seventh commandment when the suspect begged him to stop,
promising to tell him anything the federal agent wanted to know.
Obtaining his information in record time, Royce sauntered to the exit.
Dobski’s wails followed him as the door opened. Northouse stood in the hallway,
his sidearm drawn.
“What the devil is going on in there?” the officer shouted.
“I’m done with him. He’s all yours,” Royce said nonchalantly. He tossed
the bloodied bible on the table next to the lockbox. “Oh, and he’ll need some
medical attention.”
Northouse scrambled inside the interview room as the federal agent
collected his pistol. Royce hadn’t felt guilty about what he had done even
though his assault on the suspect would most likely lead to a plea bargain deal
in the Dobski’s favor. But the answered he’d drawn out of the man outweigh any
of the petty crimes he committed.
Before leaving the police station, he’d make sure any record of his
visit vanishes. His role in the beating of the suspect would eventually become
nothing more than rumor and hearsay. Among the officers and criminals alike at
the station, he’d carry an air of mystery about him and that was the way Royce
liked it.
3
ON THE CLOCK
“Why this one all
the time?” Sig asked Will as he got in the passenger seat of the car.
“I guess I like her
more than the rest Sigmund,” Will answered as he put a cigarette in his mouth.
“Don’t call me
that. I hate that. But seriously, why her?”
“She’s brave,” Will
answered, fumbling in his pockets to find his lighter.
“Oh please. Everybody’s
brave until the shit gets thick and hits the fan. Then, all bets are off and
anything goes,” said Sig, using his own lighter to spark Will’s cigarette.
“She’s not afraid
though…not of me…of her life…of anything. She just wants a little bit of good
to balance out the bad before she’s outta here.”
“Do you really
understand what she does for a living?” Sig asked.
“Of course I do,”
Will answered.
“And that doesn’t
bother you? Not even a little bit?”
“Why should it?
It’s not like there’s a lot of virgins to be found anyway,” Will laughed.
“What’s the difference between her and a woman that screws different men for
free, or to keep their cell phone bills paid, or the rent paid and the lights
on?”
“I’m just sayin’,
you need some variety. I’ve never even seen you with any other woman, not even
a different whore now and then,” Sig answered.
“I told you, I like
her more than the rest.”
“Well, her
lifestyle is dangerous for you and for her. Don’t get caught up. She’s not some
hooker with a heart of gold. When you see a woman slow-dancing with the devil,
you don’t ask to cut in,” Sig warned his cousin.
“I get it, I get
it,” he answered.
“If you say so. Did
she find out where he’ll be?”
“Yeah, Azul and his
wife are going over to Sensualis tonight.”
“Sensualis? The sex
club?”
“Yessir. Sassy
overheard him trying to offer one of the other dancers wild money to join
them.”
“This guy sleeps
with whores and strippers but shares his wife with other men. What a perv,” Sig
laughed. “Oh well, another night at the office for us. Time to clock in.”
“Let’s go,” said
Will, inhaling smoke deep into his lungs.
The call arrived
much sooner than Royce had expected. He thought he’d be halfway out of the city
before it came, but he was hardly out of the parking lot. He let the cell phone
ring another two times before answering.
“Royce. Talk to
me.”
“You son of—”
shouted Marcus Wainwright, Director of the Infringement Division.
“Whoa, no need for
name calling,” Royce replied, as he pulled the rental into the street. “I take
it this is about my questioning technique?”
“Technique? You
beat the crap out of the suspect with a bible!”
“God works in
mysterious ways.”
“You’re not funny,
Royce! You were told to get the information discretely.”
“I didn’t have time
for discrete. So I improvised with the material I had at hand. It may not have
been the best plan I’ve come up with, but it did get results.”
“You have a name?”
Wainwright’s voice had gone down to a more cordial tone.
“Yes, I got it
somewhere between the sixth or seventh commandment.”
“What?”
“Never mind,
private joke. I’m going to have to stay in town for a few days to substantiate
the information I’ve extracted this morning.”
“Even if what
you’ve discovered pans out, it doesn’t justify what you’ve done to achieve it.
You’re an enforcer of the law, and not above it, Royce.”
“I told you how I
operated when you hired me. Don’t get weak in the knees, when all I’ve done was
to give a man a nosebleed.”
“You did more than that,
Royce. He’s being hospitalized. He’s already threatening to sue the city.”
“I’ll take care of
it,” Royce said coldly. He’d find out where the police had taken the suspect
and drop by his room to have a chat with him later.
“Whatever you’re
thinking, don’t do it.”
“I’m thinking about
stretching out across a beach blanket to bask in the sun, a drink with an
umbrella in one hand, a Walter Mosley book in the other.”
“I reiterate,
you’re not funny, Royce.” Wainwright’s side of the phone went dead.
“I think I’m
funny,” Royce said aloud to no one.
4
CLUB SENSUALIS
“Sorry gentlemen, I
can’t let you in tonight,” the hulking bouncer standing guard in front of the
club told them. He bore a striking resemblance to the gargoyles that peered
down on the streets from high up on the ledges of the building, with their
stone faces permanently twisted in intimidating scowls.
“Why not?” Will
asked, annoyed that this goon had put his hand aggressively on his chest
to stop him from passing through the doors. He was wearing his favorite, white,
button-up shirt.
“Neither one of you
is with a female. I can’t let you in without at least one between the both of
you. Tomorrow night is for the boy-on-boy action. Tonight is for the straight
swingers,” the bouncer explained, surprisingly articulate. His brutish demeanor
suggested that he would be more of a grunter
or snarler. His
caveman-esque brow certainly gave the impression that homo-sapien evolution had
bypassed his ancestors and the hair that protruded from the unbuttoned chest
area of his shirt gave validity to Sig’s theory, that he might even have been a
shaved Sasquatch. His size fifteen shoes definitely would have left enormous
footprints wherever he walked.
“Oh, no. We’re not
like that. We’re here to meet some friends,” Sig interjected immediately in an
attempt to clear up any confusion. He didn’t’ like what the bouncer was
implying.
“Male or female
friends?” the bouncer asked as he raised an eyebrow and eyed them
disbelievingly.
“Female of course!”
Sig answered.
“That’s too bad
then. I guess you gentlemen are going to miss out on all the nasty fun
then…because I’m STILL not letting you in tonight. Sorry.”
Will reached into
his pocket and thought about how expensive this night was becoming. He began
counting out money from his billfold in plain view of the bouncer’s avaricious
eyes.
“Sorry, still can’t
let you in,” said the bouncer as he continued to watch Will count out twenty
dollar bills.
Will didn’t protest
or try to reason further with him. He simply kept counting. When he got to two
hundred dollars, the bouncer stopped him and took the cash cautiously. He
looked both ways, up and down the street to make sure that no one else saw the
exchange before he quickly pocketed the bribe. Will almost cracked a smile. He
turned out to be considerably less expensive than Sassy, and Sig had called her
a whore.
“Go around to the
side door. Bang on the blue door and tell them that Chuckles sent you,” the
bouncer told them in a heavy hushed voice that he must have thought was a whisper.
“Thanks,” said Sig
in a hurry to move on.
He and Will turned
from the front door of Sensualis to see about gaining access via the alternate
entrance.
“By the way, if you
boys are back here tomorrow, it’s my night off. I’ll be inside partying,” the bouncer
called out to them as they were about to turn the corner. Will pretended not to
hear him but Sig looked back nervously.
“Was he just
flirting with us?” Sig asked, almost blushing.
“I suppose he was,”
Will answered, amused by the look on his cousin’s face.
“Did he just
proposition us too?” Sig asked.
“I suppose he did,”
Will answered as he walked up to the blue door they had been sent to and banged
on it twice.
“Chuckles?” said
Sig. “He didn’t look like a Chuckles.
He didn’t look like he was funny at all.”
“No, he did not,”
Will answered as they waited for someone to open the door.
Stepping inside
Sensualis was like walking into a porn shop except that all of the action was taking
place live in front of their eyes. Despite the aroma of the incense and scented
candles that were lit everywhere, the smell of sweat, sex and the mingling of
strange bodies intertwined in all manners of intercourse could not be
masked. Sig and Will witnessed every
kind of sex act imaginable (And also a few that would have been hard to think
up) as they searched the colorful, silk-curtained rooms for Azul. By house
rules, everyone inside the sex club, even the workers, were required to wear
masks without exception for obvious reasons. To comfortably act out such
fantasies, many of them taboo, Club Sensualis’ clients had to maintain their
anonymity and the club did everything in their power to guarantee it. Because
of that, finding Azul in the mix of oily, sweaty, bodies would have been
impossible if Sassy hadn’t told Will about the scar that ran across the man’s
round belly like a woman’s C-section scar.
“My mask stinks,”
Sig complained as he kept re-adjusting it on his face, seriously contemplating
taking it off and tossing it on the ground. He had been given a Chinese monkey
god mask to wear with a large, round opening cut out in the mouth area.
“Don’t take it off
or they’ll have us thrown out. Remember why we’re here,” Will warned him as he
pulled back a semi-transparent, rose-colored curtain to see a man engaged in a
threesome with two rather large women.
“I’m not kidding.
This mask really smells horrible. This thing smells like jizz,” Sig continued
to whine.
“Somebody must have
taken one in the face for the team while they were wearing it. We have work to
do though so there’s no time to worry about that. You’re just gonna have to
suck it up,” Will answered, moving on to peek into another room.
“Not funny!”
grumbled Sig.
“Sorry, poor choice
of words,” answered Will, his laugh muffled underneath his white mask which had
been fashioned in the likeness of the Roman god Jupiter.
After more of Sig’s
grumbling, the men continued to pull back curtains to search rooms. Will began
to doubt the accuracy of Sassy’s information and felt foolish for placing so
much stock in whispers overheard in a strip club/cathouse.
“How are we going to
find him in the middle of all this?” Sig asked, strangely aroused considering
what they were really there for. He had never considered himself a pervert but
it was almost impossible not to get wood after all he had feasted his eyes on while
peeking in rooms.
“We’ll find him.
Look for the most expensive, exclusive section of this flesh-fest and I bet
that’s where he’ll be,” Will answered hoping that he was right.
After five more
minutes, they found a room guarded by two stone gargoyles on opposite sides of
a wooden red door. Will pushed it open and stepped inside quickly with Sig
right behind him.
On a round bed in
the middle of the room laid a woman that could only be Azul’s wife. She was
completely naked except for the intricately-designed, golden masquerade mask
covering the top half of her face. She
looked completely spent, spread eagle on the mattress with beads of sweat on
her skin. Will didn’t miss the scar that ran down the length of Azul’s exposed pot
belly. His red, silk robe was wide open as he sat there calmly in just his
boxers and dress socks on a regal looking chair. If the robe wasn’t so
delicately elegant, he would have resembled a lazy plumber who had just got
home from a hard day’s work. His mask was fashioned after a red devil, little
horns, sharp goatee and all. He stood up to greet them, not at all alarmed by
the sudden appearance of these strangers who locked the door behind them after
they were inside. This was not his first rodeo. He stood up to greet them, his
boxer shorts so low on his hips that his grizzled pubic hairs showed.
“Welcome! Welcome
friends!” Azul greeted them, clapping his hands, either out of some weird joy
now that he was in the presence of fresh meat or possibly to rouse his
wife who seemed to have nodded off. Even with his mask muffling the sound, his
voice was more high-pitched than Will had expected coming from a man of such a
gruff stature. Will and Sig did not speak but they did wave hello
uncomfortably, like shy kids on the first day of class in a new school.
“I apologize for my
wife’s current state. Poor thing. She’s usually more lively and fresh but I’ve
just shared her vigorously with two other men before you two came in but I’m
sure she still has some juice left in her. You…in the monkey mask…you look
eager. Why don’t you find out if she does? Zeus, Jupiter, or whoever you’re
supposed to be…come over here with me and we can watch together,” Azul slurred.
Will and Sig looked
at each other and through the eyeholes in the monkey god mask, Sig’s eyes asked
permission. Will shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and silently granted it.
Tentatively, Will approached Azul who was enthusiastically beckoning him to
come over. Azul’s wife crawled slowly, seductively, over to Sig who stood at
the edge of the bed and started opening his pants. She was fiercely friendly
and high out of her mind, probably on some type of ecstasy pills. Azul firmly
placed his meaty hand on Will’s shoulder. He stepped out of his boxers
completely and was so excited as he watched his wife giving Sig the best oral
sex he had ever had in his life that he never noticed when Will slipped the
silk sash from the loops in his robe. Will tried to make eye-contact with Sig
to give him fair warning about what he was about to do but, behind the painted
monkey-faced mask, his cousin was lost in pleasure, focused on Azul’s wife and
what she was doing with her mouth. Azul
breathed heavily like a crazed bull under his mask as he took off his robe and
grabbed Will by the wrist with a grip like a vice.
“Come!” Azul
commanded roughly, reaching for Will’s crotch as he put one chubby knee up on
the bed. He didn’t get the chance to put his other leg up.
Will wrapped the
silk sash around Azul’s neck and started to choke the life out of him. Sig
opened his eyes just in time to see what was happening on the other side of the
mattress. He covered Azul’s wife’s ears with both hands and purposely moaned
loudly so she wouldn’t hear her husband gasping for breath as he faced his
imminent death by strangulation. Will wrestled Azul to the ground and planted
his knee firmly in the man’s hairy back. With all of his strength, he pulled
the make-shift garrote around the dying man’s throat. The heavy man struggled
in vain to gain the leverage he needed to get Will off of him. He flapped
around desperately on the filthy floor of the room behind the red door where
countless men and women had spilled their lust. Once Azul was dead, Will nodded
to Sig who then knocked Azul’s wife out cold with one punch, after she had
stopped what she was doing of course. Otherwise, as a reflex, she might have
clenched her teeth and castrated him.
“Help me pick this
big boy up and put him on the bed next to his wife,” said Will.
“Damn, she’s sexy,”
said Sig as he stared at the woman he had just sent off into slumber with a
violent blow to her head. “Couldn’t you have waited until I had sex with her
first?”
“If I had waited
that long, I might’ve gotten molested by Mr. Touchy Feely here. Grab his
legs. I’ll get his arms.”
“Do we kill her
too?” Sig asked as they struggled to roll Azul’s corpse next to his unconscious
wife.
“No, we don’t have
to. She only knows us as Jupiter and The Monkey god. She didn’t see our faces.”
This time, Will
drove the car and Sig relaxed in the passenger seat after they escaped Club
Sensualis. From the corner of his eye, he saw a smug grin on Sig’s face as he
struggled not to laugh about something that must have tickled him something
terrible.
“What are you trying
so hard not to laugh about? What’s the joke?” Will asked.
“How long do you
think it’ll be before somebody goes in that room and bugger’s Azul’s dead
body?” laughed Sig.
5
Sex Club
The room Royce
rented was far from luxurious. Up and down the walls, cracks ran along them
like exposed veins. Peeling paint hung down from the ceiling like stalactites.
The room’s furniture was in short supply: A tattered couch that should have
been discarded for trash rested against a far wall. A nineteen inch television,
a remnant of the nineties, sat on top of a wood bureau. Bunched in a tight
corner, the only amenities were a rusted microwave and dingy coffeemaker
sitting above an unplugged mini-refrigerator.
He looked around the
room searching for the bed and then flinched in horror when he realized the
couch folded out into one. Royce considered sleeping on the floor instead, but
the multicolored carpet was covered with hundreds of old cigarette burns, food
stains from a time long past and smelled of hard liquor. He’d probably get
drunk from the fumes alone if his head came too close to the gaudy carpeting.
Glancing out the
window, he stared out into the dark parking lot at his rental vehicle. Under a
flickering street lamp, the recently washed Dodge Charger stood out among the
sparse number of cars. He was glad he opted for the insurance. Royce doubted
the Charger would still be there in the morning. He’d paid for a bad room, in a
bad neighborhood, and expected no less from the low-life criminals occupying
the east side of the city.
He pushed away from
the window, hoping to be proved wrong by morning. Royce liked the Charger, it
was sleek, elegant, and the engine purred like a kitten. Taking his laptop and mobile
hotspot out of bag, he reluctantly sat on the shabby couch. It smelled of body
odor and sex. The dirty carpet was looking better and better to him. He tried
not to think about it as the laptop powered on. On the dark screen, his
handsome features reflected back. He needed a haircut. Royce liked the sides of
his head bald and his hair low on top. He scratched at his chin playfully,
letting his fingers comb against the stubble. Even his goatee looked a bit
shabby.
His image
disappeared as the Operating System logo took up the screen. Once the machine
finished loading, he connected immediately to the secure wireless hotspot and
logged onto the Infringement Division server in Virginia
It was the name he’d
extracted from the suspect. Royce wasn’t sure whether it was a first or last
name, but felt confident he would shortly get a hit from the database search.
While he waited, he thought about the other morsel of the information he’d
obtained with his unorthodox interrogation--the sex shop called, Sensualis. The
private club was the reason he’d rented the rundown room at the motel. Royce
only had to spy out the window to see the business down the street. He’d driven
by Sensualis earlier spotting a large bouncer, the size of two linebackers,
outside the front entrance. He knew the type, he wouldn’t scare easily. Getting
inside would take more than to simply flaunt his credentials.
Azul’s data flashed
across the screen. The man’s litany of illegal activities read like a resume
for a cliché gangsta from a street novel. His crimes started at the ripe age of
eight and had gone well into his thirties. A lot his time had been spent behind
bars until five years ago. Azul had crossed over from robbing party stores and
selling crack on the streets to a more luxurious business, trafficking. It
hadn’t matter to him what he moved over the border, drugs, humans and weapons.
It a short time, Azul made a rep for himself and managed to stay under the
radar of law enforcement. That was until now.
Royce read over the
rest of the file trying to get a feel for the man. What came up without fail
throughout the years was Azul’s sexual appetite. More than half his crimes had
been related to sex. And he wasn’t exactly particular with whom or what he’d
done the dirty deed with. Azul, opening the club Sensualis made perfect sense
for a man like him.
He logged out,
closed the lid of the laptop and lay it aside him on the couch. He glanced at
his wristwatch. Nearly two a.m.
He spent more than an hour doing his research on the man. Launching himself up,
Royce decided the direct approach would be the best way to introduce himself to
Azul. He had never been the type to worry about obtaining warrants. Besides,
all he wanted to do was talk to the man, not arrest him. Arrests were done by
others. Royce’s job was to get information anyway he could. At least in his own
mind, Wainwright, he was sure, had other ideas.
It took Royce no
more than five minutes to walk to the club. He hadn’t wanted to risk anyone
catching the license plate to his rental. He would pay the goon at the door to
get inside rather than play the badass. He wanted to get inside as quietly as
possible, get his answers, and then slip out. It was a good plan and wouldn’t
have Wainwright climbing up his ass about it later.
Royce strode to the
front entrance where a giant Neanderthal in an ill-fitting suit waited. He let
the urge to say, “Me, Tarzan, you ape,” pass as quickly as it had come. The big
man… perhaps ape… most likely Neanderthal, didn’t give off the vibe he’d
appreciate anyone joking about his looks. Instead, Royce simply grinned up at
him.
“No,” the
Neanderthal barked.
“No, what?” Royce
asked, losing his grin.
“No. You got cop
written all over you. You’re not getting inside.” He added an explanation point
to his assertion by poking his thick finger into Royce’s chest.
The move came
without conscience thought as Royce grabbed the offending arm by the wrist. He
whirled around, putting his back to the larger man, moved in close bring his
back to the man’s upper torso. Leaning forward, catching his opponent
completely by surprise, he lifted him up and over.
The Neanderthal hit
the pavement with a heavy thud. Air blew out of him like a deflating tire.
Drawing his Glock,
Royce pointed it down at the man’s face. “Look, pal, I’m trying to play nice
here. I’m not here for trouble. I want to talk to your boss. What do you say,
you want to be friends?” Royce kept his gun trained on him, waiting for the man
caught his breath.
“He’s inside,” the
Neanderthal finally said.
Holstering the
Glock, Royce winked, whirled around and entered the club. Inside, he made a few
inquiries and was led to where he could find his quarry. He knocked hard once
on the door. When a woman’s scream came in answer, Royce drew his pistol again,
and opened the door.
A panicked, naked,
woman, stared back at him. Royce believed her to be the wife. She lay beside
her murdered husband. A silk sash had been coiled tightly around Azul’s neck.
Royce cursed under his breath, he’d lost the first solid lead he had on the
investigation in weeks. He wondered briefly, if Azul’s murder had anything to
do with his case?
Glancing at the
distraught woman, he lowered his pistol, and asked, “Who did this?”
She shouted
something crazy about Jupiter and a Monkey god. He looked out into the hallway.
The activities in the other rooms had made them oblivious to what was going on
inside this room. Royce closed the door behind him for privacy. He’d have to
calm the woman first to get some straight answers. His intuition told him
Azul’s death and his investigation was somehow connected. He needed to find out
exactly who Jupiter and the Monkey god were.
Copyright © 2014 Keith Gaston & Keith Kareem Williams
All rights reserved.
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