Desperate lovers, p.7
Desperate Lovers, page 7
part #2 of Wonderland Series
Sure, the Alice in Wonderland thing was corny as hell, but it wasn’t without its homespun charm. And this was their home.
Edgar wanted to stop by Lauren Healy’s art gallery to see if LeeAnn was there. It seemed that the two women were spending a lot of time together and Edgar hoped to present his evidence as soon as possible.
Jack, however, argued against it, insisting they go home first.
“It’s dinner time,” he said. “You can take the tape to her tomorrow.”
Edgar reluctantly agreed and they continued the short drive to Eldon Court. As they turned onto the street Edgar noted that everything seemed quiet. He also noted that the lights were on upstairs in Number Two Eldon Court, and wondered how long Parker had had to wait before being freed from his ropey imprisonment. The lingering image of Parker, his sexy, hairy body naked and bound, flashed into Edgar’s head, and he quickly forced himself to think of something else.
After parking the car in the garage the two men walked up the path to their house. Edgar stopped in his tracks when he saw broken glass from a small pane in the door resting on the wooden floor. He touched the door handle, which caused the door to slowly creak open and the two men exchanged a panicked look.
“Stay here,” whispered Edgar, grasping the gun in his pocket.
“Like hell I will,” replied Jack. “I’m coming with you.”
Edgar sighed loudly. He knew from past experience that there was no use arguing.
“Alright,” he said, “but stay behind me. They might still be in the house.”
Jack gasped when Edgar pulled the pistol from his pocket.
“Where the hell did you get that gun?” he asked.
“I bought it awhile back,” replied Edgar. “I’ve been dealing with some pretty rough people.”
“You could accidentally shoot yourself…or me!” said Jack, exasperated.
Their dachshund whined at them from beneath the dining room table, obviously unscathed.
“Some watchdog you are,” said Edgar.
Slowly, they made their way up the stairs and searched every room, every closet. In his study, Edgar cursed loudly.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jack, rushing to his side.
“They took my fucking laptop,” said Edgar, fishing keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the file cabinet and was grateful to find the disc containing his manuscript safe and sound.
“Assholes,” he grumbled before replacing the disc and re-locking the cabinet.
A search of the remainder of the house failed to locate the intruder. Whoever had been in the house had left and, apparently, only been interested in the laptop. Edgar phoned the police to report a burglary and, within half an hour, a squad car appeared in the driveway. The officer took Edgar’s statement and gave him a case number so that he could obtain a copy of the police report, which wouldn’t be filed until the next day.
Edgar thanked the officer and, as he locked the front door, made a mental note to have an alarm system installed. While Jack patched up the broken window pane Edgar slipped to the basement and was relieved to see that the box containing the hood and sweat suit he’d worn over to Number Two was still there, undisturbed. He carefully retrieved them from the box and carried them upstairs. Despite the fact that it was a little too warm for a fire in the fireplace, Edgar was determined to get rid of the incriminating evidence.
The next morning, as Jack got ready for work, Edgar phoned the local company who installed home alarm systems. Fortunately, they informed Edgar that they would be able to send out an installer that afternoon. He hung up the phone and busied himself by cleaning the ashes out of the fireplace and smiled when he saw that everything, with the exception of a zipper, had been consumed by the flames. He was tossing the zipper into the garbage can in the kitchen when Jack entered the room.
“They’re coming to install the alarm system this afternoon,” said Edgar, washing the soot from his hands in the sink.
“That’s good,” replied Jack, kissing Edgar on the cheek. “I just hate that we have to do it…I mean Wonderland has always been such a safe, quaint place. I mean, first Parker is held at gunpoint, and now this…”
Edgar nodded his agreement. The trouble was, he couldn’t figure out who would have stolen his laptop. Was it because of his book? Had that been the motive? Or did the theft have to do with this fight for Eldon Court? Surely, Danvers Converse was capable of far worse than stealing a laptop.
“Well,” replied Edgar, “things have certainly changed. I want you to be careful…these are desperate men who will do anything to get what they want.”
“I’m not afraid of Converse or any of his thugs,” replied Jack.
“What I’m afraid of is my partner accidentally shooting himself with his stupid gun.”
“Jack…”
“No, I’m serious,” he said. “I want you to get rid of that thing before you hurt yourself or someone else.”
Edgar stared at the kitchen floor.
“Promise?” Jack pressed.
Edgar slowly nodded.
“I promise,” he agreed.
Jack kissed Edgar tenderly on the lips. He was in so many ways such a little boy, and Jack knew that the gun was nothing more than a new, potentially deadly toy.
“Thank you,” Jack said.
“I’m going to call Rich and LeeAnn about the tape this morning,”
Edgar said, changing the subject. “Get ready for all hell to break loose.”
Edgar was able to reach Rich at the bank and quickly explained their trip to San Francisco and their meeting with George Saunders.
“That’s good,” Rich replied, “but it’s not much to go on.”
“It’s a start,” Edgar argued. “Besides, the nurse said he had never heard of Parker.”
Edgar held the tape recorder to the phone and played the bit of recording where Saunders babbled the name Parker over and over.
“I’m going to call LeeAnn after I hang up with you,” Edgar said.
“I think we’ve got at least an explanation about how they got that deed.”
“Hey, Edgar,” Rich said, “I saw a police car in front of your house last night. Is everything alright?”
“Someone broke in and stole my laptop while we were in San Francisco.”
“That’s weird,” replied Rich. “They didn’t take anything else?”
“No,” said Edgar. “I think it was somebody fishing for information.”
“Well, I hope they turn it up. For now, that’s interesting news about old man Saunders. Listen, I’ve got to go but I’ll call you later.”
Edgar hung up the phone and then quickly dialed LeeAnn’s number. He was disappointed when he was sent immediately to her voice mail, a sure sign that she had her phone off.
“LeeAnn,” he said, “it’s Edgar. Call me when you get this message. I’ve recently obtained some information on that sham deed that Parker St. John produced at the meeting. Talk to you later.”
Suddenly, a noise downstairs caught Edgar’s attention. At first he dismissed it as the sounds of an old house settling on its foundation but the little dachshund, who had been busily fussing at Edgar’s feet, noticed it, too, and walked to the door to peer into the hallway. Edgar looked at the clock on the wall. It was far too early for the alarm company to have arrived. Instinctively, Edgar took the key to the file cabinet from his key chain and stashed it between the pages of his dictionary. He put the recorder into a pocket of his jacket and the pistol in another and cautiously stepped out into the hallway.
“Hello?” he called.
There was no answer, so Edgar inched down the stairs, followed by the dachshund. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see that the front door was standing open. Edgar reached to close it, and a blow from behind struck him in the head. He toppled to the floor and quickly lost consciousness.
An earlier wailing ambulance had sunk beneath Jack Fish’s skin, a chill hitting him for no other reason than his nerves were shot after what was going on. Just finishing up with a yoga class, his studio’s phone rang, and again, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. To his surprise, it was his neighbor, Marc.
“Is everything alright, Marc?” he asked nervously.
“Jack,” said Marc, sounding very distressed, “some guy came to your house to install an alarm system and, well, I’m not sure how to tell you this but…he found Edgar unconscious on the floor.”
Jack’s heart skipped a beat.
“Is he alright?” he demanded. “What happened?”
“It looks like someone hit him over the head, or he fell…we’re not sure. They took him to the hospital.”
“Which hospital?” Jack asked. He suddenly felt very dizzy. He couldn’t lose Edgar…Edgar was his life.
“The medical center in Down Wonder,” replied Marc.
“Okay, good, that’s not far. Did…did Eddy have a tape recorder with him?” asked Jack. He hated himself for worrying about the damned recorder when Edgar’s life maybe hung in the balance, but knowing would tell him who had done it, whose ass he had to kick.
“I don’t know,” replied Marc. “I didn’t see one. Listen, Jack, we’ll drive you if you want. You’re probably in no condition to…”
“I’m just blocks away, at my studio.”
Before Marc could finish his sentence Jack hung up the phone, locked the yoga studio and stared running down the street.
Tears filled his eyes when he saw Edgar, his head bandaged and an IV hooked up to his arm, lying in a bed in the intensive care unit. Edgar was still unconscious and Jack rushed to the bed and touched his arm.
“You beautiful, stupid man,” he said, tears running down his cheeks. “I told you that you were going to get hurt.”
He leaned and kissed Edgar’s bandaged head.
“Wake up, Eddy,” he said, squeezing his hand. “Come on, don’t leave me.”
Jack wiped the tears from his eyes and strode to the wardrobe cabinet standing at the foot of the bed. Inside, he found Edgar’s clothing, shoes and wallet but no tape recorder.
And no gun. At least he hadn’t been shot.
Jack closed the wardrobe and walked out into the hallway, where he located the nurse’s station.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, addressing a young blonde woman in a white smock. “My partner is in room 311…Edgar Newcastle.”
“Yes,” the nurse replied, “how may I help you?”
“Is he going to be alright?”
She smiled kindly.
“He’s in stable condition and has suffered a mild concussion,” she explained. “He should be fine. Just a little groggy right now from the medication he was given.”
Jack sighed, waves of relief washing over him.
“Thank you,” he said. He turned to go, but stopped.
“Are all of his belongings with his clothes?” he asked the nurse.
“Everything that he had on him when he was brought in should be in his room,” replied the nurse. “Is something missing?”
“No,” lied Jack, “not that I know of.”
He cursed softly as he walked back to Edgar’s room. Did
Converse manage to get the recorder from Edgar and destroy it? Jack didn’t know what to think, but was at least grateful that he still had his Eddy.
It seemed that they were suddenly back to square one, even though they had barely left it. Jack was suddenly filled with an anger that rarely showed itself with his more contemplative personality. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Rich and Marc’s number. Marc answered on the second ring.
“Marc,” Jack said, “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Sure,” Marc replied. “How’s Jack?”
“He’s fine, they assure me he’ll be just fine,” Jack replied.
“The old fool is lucky to have only sustained a mild concussion and they say he should be able to go home tomorrow.”
“That’s great,” Marc replied. “So what’s the favor?”
“I need you to keep what happened a secret. Don’t tell Rich, don’t tell Aaron or Paolo, or even Dane and Sawyer, if you can ever find them.
Right now I think it’s important we not show our hand, or imply in any way that we’ll be intimidated. I mean, we won’t, no matter what.”
“Of course,” Marc replied. “I’m not sure that’s wise, but yeah, for now…”
“Thanks, Marc.”
“No problem,” Marc replied. “Listen, Jack, try and get some rest.
Give Edgar my best.”
“Will do,” Jack said. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Jack ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket. He looked at Edgar, his head wrapped in bandages, and wanted to cry. First the threat of losing their homes and now this…if he ever lost Edgar, he didn’t know what he would do. Or who would suffer the consequences.
What next?
PART THREE
Behind Enemy Lines
by Adam Carpenter
He was home, thankfully having the morning off from his work at the Bayside Hotel, and while he was grateful for the time to himself, he knew his day would be spoiled by one subject. The notion of betrayal.
See, by day he worked behind enemy lines, and by night he returned to the security of his home, to the waiting, embracing arms of his long-time lover. But Aaron Walters knew this was a mere illusion, the lines of battle were drawn both at home and work, so much so he barely knew who to trust or who to believe. Even within his own relationship with Paolo doubt lurked, and it was that which occupied his free day.
Take for instance the pleasure Paolo had experienced while having sex with Rich.
Aaron couldn’t stop watching the video, an endless loop of film that continued to scroll in his head even after he’d put it away. Viewing that video had been this morning, and now, at noon, he’d taken it out again, his mind’s images locking onto the sweaty duo like Paulo’s legs had done with Rich’s hairy ass. He’d watched his lover being urgently fucked by some other man, and damn if he hadn’t grown hard by the sight of his sexy, hairy neighbor, bucking and thrusting, grunting, pleasuring a man committed to someone else. Paolo had been enjoying himself a bit too much, and Aaron ought to know, their sex life had been lackluster of late.
To see his partner throwing himself into this passionate exchange with Rich, lapping at his thickly haired chest, receiving each plunge of that big cock so wantonly, so heatedly, Aaron had to wonder if he and Paolo would truly survive the latest turns of events. When all was settled on Eldon Court, would they still be a team?
Aaron was determined to make the answer a resounding yes.
No matter who he had to manipulate.
Aaron Walters was playing a dangerous game, neighbor against neighbor, enemy against enemy, and at the moment none were the wiser.
Like with Rich North, throwing Paolo at him had been his decision, and as much as he hated watching his lover being fucked by someone else—and videotaping it for god’s sake!—he had done what had to be done. Sitting in his office, looking at the frozen image on his computer screen of Paolo in the throes of orgasm, he fought the urge to jerk-off and instead thought about the exchange which had occurred moments after Rich had left the hotel room.
“He’s gone,” Aaron had said, “You can open the door.”
Paolo did as instructed, he always did, allowing his regular lover to slip into the room, quickly closing the door behind him. The musky scent of sex pervaded the room, as though proving to Aaron that the sex had been real, it hadn’t been some cheap porno movie he’d been viewing.
Swallowing his pride, he said, “Well done, Paolo.”
“I hate myself.”
“Oh, please. You enjoyed yourself plenty, it’s all on the tape.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“For now, nothing. But when we need it, we’ll certainly use it.”
“Why, Aaron?”
“Because, even in a seemingly gentle place like Wonderland, you need to look out for number one. Things are changing fast, and no one knows who’s in control,” Aaron said. “I don’t trust that Rich will be looking out for all of us when push comes to shove. He might have rallied all of us on Eldon Court, but he’s got secrets, we all do, and when threatened, he’ll look out for number one too. This tape is our insurance policy. Working here at the Bayside Hotel, I’ve learned a few things from Danvers Converse about customer service.”
“Does this mean we’re okay?” Paolo asked, “I mean, the sex…it was just…”
“It was just business,” Aaron said hollowly. Then he placed a comforting hand upon his lover’s cheek. “We’re going to be fine.”
Days since the encounter, Aaron hoped it was still true. He put away the disk, turned off his computer and made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. There was much to accomplish on his day off, things to set in motion, and while the morning may have escaped him, he didn’t plan to waste away the rest of the day. After languishing in the hot spray for ten minutes, he stepped out and grabbed for a towel from the rack above the toilet—only to witness a few magazines tumble from between the collection of plush cotton.
“What the hell are these doing here?” a naked, dripping Aaron asked aloud, quickly drying his hand before picking up the periodicals; he didn’t want to get them wet. Trouble was, a few of the pages were wet anyway, or had been. Some pages were stuck together, but even still he knew what kind of magazines he was looking at. Naked, hard men, sucking each other, fucking each other, page after page of masculine, tattooed, hairy-chested, big-dicked men, all of which brought Aaron to an instant hard-on. Christ, he was turned on, even while knowing only one person could have hidden these between the folds of the towels. Paolo.
With the pages sticky from come, Aaron knew that his lover was jerking off, and a hollowness settled inside his heart as the realization hit him. He knew he wasn’t satisfying Paolo, he was looking elsewhere for stimulation and release, and while he had found it temporarily in the form of Rich North the other day, he more often turned to these still photographs to help him reach his orgasms. Probably after Aaron had gone to sleep.
