concern. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
As soon as Izzy was out the door, I picked up the phone and dialed Lucy’s home number. An English-accented housekeeper answered the call. She informed me that the Pipers were at their lake house and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. When she asked for my contact details, I cut the line, worried that the message would end up in the wrong hands.
The next day, I dragged myself into the office – partly because I’d promised Izzy, but mostly because Lucy had my work number. She called me in the afternoon, and she wasn’t happy. “Was that you last night?” she hissed. “I told you not to call the house.”
“Then give me your cell,” I said.
“I’m not allowed one.” She sighed. “It’s complicated, okay?”
“Fine. I’ll give you mine.”
I waited while she rustled around for a pen and paper. “I’m sorry it has to be like this,” she said after taking down my number. “He watches me all the time.”
“Can you blame him?”
She laughed. “Probably not. God, it’s so nice to hear your voice, Johnny. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”
A grin stretched across my face. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.”
“Really? I was afraid you’d hate me after what I said at the coffee shop. You know I didn’t mean a word of it. I was in denial, I suppose.”
“Yeah? Well, you had me fooled.”
“I’m sorry. You must’ve thought I was the biggest cock tease in Sacramento.”
“Nah, I’ve met worse. Actually wait…she was from Reno.”
Lucy’s soft laughter tickled my ear, but it died prematurely. “Oh shit, he’s back,” she whispered. “I have to go.”
“But when can I see you?”
“Tomorrow, at the coffee shop. I’ll be there at noon.”
The line went dead, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drive out the disturbing image of Lucy’s husband walking in the door, smiling a brown-toothed smile, and putting his wrinkly hands all over her gorgeous curves. Instead, I imagined her naked body folding into mine, her long legs wrapped around my waist, staring up at me with those dark blue eyes as I fucked and fucked and fucked her.
7. “Mr Emerson was just thirty-nine”
I was greased in sweat when my alarm sounded at 5.50pm, waking me from a formless nightmare. I’d barely had time to close my eyes, having spent the afternoon disposing of Ralph’s giant fish, scrubbing out my fish tank, and contacting the super to arrange an urgent change of locks. The front door showed no signs of forced entry, so I had to assume Ralph was in possession of a duplicate key. It was also possible that last night wasn’t the first time he’d entered my apartment. The thought made me shudder.
I trudged into the living room and threw open the blackout shades. I’d had the floor-to-ceiling windows coated in a special light-absorbing film, and as long as I didn’t take on the mid-morning glare, I could gaze over the city without my head splitting in two.
With a dusty orange sunset as my backdrop, I carried on as normal: putting down fifty push-ups and a hundred sit-ups, showering quickly, and eating my cornflakes in front of the six o’clock news. But while my body was operating on autopilot, my mind was working furiously behind the scenes. Before I’d drained my first mug of coffee, I’d arrived at a plan.
I would stay at the office a few hours later than usual, until the following morning when Ralph T Emerson started his working day. I had to confront him, sooner rather than later. What other choice did I have?
From the pointed nature of the threats, I assumed Ralph was in the early stages of an elaborate blackmail plot. That’s why he was slowly cranking up the pressure, resisting the urge to play his full hand. He wanted me nervous and cowering, ready to cede to his final demands.
But while Ralph might’ve stumbled upon a few secrets of my past, the fact he was even attempting blackmail suggested there were some
As soon as Izzy was out the door, I picked up the phone and dialed Lucy’s home number. An English-accented housekeeper answered the call. She informed me that the Pipers were at their lake house and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. When she asked for my contact details, I cut the line, worried that the message would end up in the wrong hands.
The next day, I dragged myself into the office – partly because I’d promised Izzy, but mostly because Lucy had my work number. She called me in the afternoon, and she wasn’t happy. “Was that you last night?” she hissed. “I told you not to call the house.”
“Then give me your cell,” I said.
“I’m not allowed one.” She sighed. “It’s complicated, okay?”
“Fine. I’ll give you mine.”
I waited while she rustled around for a pen and paper. “I’m sorry it has to be like this,” she said after taking down my number. “He watches me all the time.”
“Can you blame him?”
She laughed. “Probably not. God, it’s so nice to hear your voice, Johnny. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”
A grin stretched across my face. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.”
“Really? I was afraid you’d hate me after what I said at the coffee shop. You know I didn’t mean a word of it. I was in denial, I suppose.”
“Yeah? Well, you had me fooled.”
“I’m sorry. You must’ve thought I was the biggest cock tease in Sacramento.”
“Nah, I’ve met worse. Actually wait…she was from Reno.”
Lucy’s soft laughter tickled my ear, but it died prematurely. “Oh shit, he’s back,” she whispered. “I have to go.”
“But when can I see you?”
“Tomorrow, at the coffee shop. I’ll be there at noon.”
The line went dead, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drive out the disturbing image of Lucy’s husband walking in the door, smiling a brown-toothed smile, and putting his wrinkly hands all over her gorgeous curves. Instead, I imagined her naked body folding into mine, her long legs wrapped around my waist, staring up at me with those dark blue eyes as I fucked and fucked and fucked her.
7. “Mr Emerson was just thirty-nine”
I was greased in sweat when my alarm sounded at 5.50pm, waking me from a formless nightmare. I’d barely had time to close my eyes, having spent the afternoon disposing of Ralph’s giant fish, scrubbing out my fish tank, and contacting the super to arrange an urgent change of locks. The front door showed no signs of forced entry, so I had to assume Ralph was in possession of a duplicate key. It was also possible that last night wasn’t the first time he’d entered my apartment. The thought made me shudder.
I trudged into the living room and threw open the blackout shades. I’d had the floor-to-ceiling windows coated in a special light-absorbing film, and as long as I didn’t take on the mid-morning glare, I could gaze over the city without my head splitting in two.
With a dusty orange sunset as my backdrop, I carried on as normal: putting down fifty push-ups and a hundred sit-ups, showering quickly, and eating my cornflakes in front of the six o’clock news. But while my body was operating on autopilot, my mind was working furiously behind the scenes. Before I’d drained my first mug of coffee, I’d arrived at a plan.
I would stay at the office a few hours later than usual, until the following morning when Ralph T Emerson started his working day. I had to confront him, sooner rather than later. What other choice did I have?
From the pointed nature of the threats, I assumed Ralph was in the early stages of an elaborate blackmail plot. That’s why he was slowly cranking up the pressure, resisting the urge to play his full hand. He wanted me nervous and cowering, ready to cede to his final demands.
But while Ralph might’ve stumbled upon a few secrets of my past, the fact he was even attempting blackmail suggested there were some
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