80. By Jack

Steve signed and dropped his cellphone onto the couch next to him. What was Mike doing bringing Jennifer into this? What did they have to show him? What the hell did Jack mean? Steve leaned forward on the couch and ran his hands down his face.

He got up, passed by the fully stocked bar and went into the bathroom. He took the cup by the sink, filled it and drank down the water. He glanced in the mirror – show time.

Steve unlocked the front door and left, securing it behind him. He almost went to the stairwell, thinking it might buy him a little extra time to figure things out. But no, that might give something away. He had the feeling he needed to watch himself a little more around Jennifer.

He pressed the call button on the elevator, and put his hands in his trouser pockets as he waited. Steve bounced on his heels, feeling himself getting slightly antsy, when he realized he had left his cellphone back in the suite.

Ding.

Steve frowned. Now the elevator finally came.

He headed back down the hallway, two turns and to his suite. He slipped his card through the door lock and opened it. He didn’t remember leaving the lights on. Steve’s eyes quickly focused on the person in the main room by the TV.

“Aren’t we supposed to meet downstairs, Mike?” Steve said calmly as he stepped into the suite and closed the door behind him.

Mike turned around and looked at Steve. His face said nothing. It was completely blank. For once, Steve felt a little worried. Not that he would let Mike know that.

“What’s the business with Jennifer?”

Mike remained silent.

Steve crossed his arms and stared back at him. “Alright, alright. Just say whatever is on your mind.”

“It’s a question, and I want the truth.” Mike said, apathetically. Yet there was something, quite obviously, underneath it…

Fuck you, Jack.

“Ask it, Mike, so we can clear this up and get back on the ball.. Want a drink?” Steve headed towards the bar, and made sure he took the slightly longer route farther away from Mike.

“Did you ever touch Cindy?”

Steve paused, put his glass down on the bar, and turned around. “No,” He said flatly. “I have never gone near Cindy.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, Mike, I am not. Jack is fucking with your head to drive a wedge between us.”

Mike paused, his face twitching in thought as he considered what Steve had said.

“So you’re saying you never, EVER, touched Cindy?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Mike. I swear, I have never touched Cindy.”

Mike let out his breath and hung his head slightly. “Okay…” He said quietly and Steve watched as he walked over to the door. It still felt wrong. Something was going on, and Steve wasn’t in control – yet.

“Mike, where are you going?”

He glanced back at Steve, and this time it was quite easy to see the hate in his face.

“When you’re ready to tell me the truth, then we’ll talk. Don’t wait too long though – or you will regret it. I fucking promise you that, Steve.”

And with that Mike slammed the door.

Steve crossed his arms and scowled. Fucking Jack. What did he know about Cindy? What the fuck was Mike going to say that Steve would regret? If that prick decided to do anything, he’d just go to the frat boys and threaten him right back with something that would destroy his reputation, relationship and his family. He would be ruined if they decided to drop a tape off at his parent’s place. At Cindy’s. At his work. At every future girlfriend’s place.

Steve was pissed now. He stamped over to the couch, grabbed his cellphone and turned to head out. Something was missing though. There was something Steve wasn’t catching. He could feel it in his gut. Steve turned around and surveyed the room. He could feel, ever so slightly, his insides becoming twisted.

Steve walked over to the TV and checked around it. Nothing. He then checked on top and found it.

He found the hidden camera he had used to film the braid maids dressing. He glanced back and realized at that angle the video would have captured everything.

Steve sat down on the chair and leaned back. For once, he felt not in control. He glanced over at your dress and pocketbook that Mike had brought up to the room…. Alone..

81. By Julie

Steven walked back into his bedroom and got out his camera, the one his uncle let him use. It was an old 70s-style camera that ejected a print when you pressed the shutter, which developed over the course of a minute or two. 

“Let’s take pictures,” Steven said. “We’ll play you can be a movie star.” 

The girl squealed. This sounded like a lot more fun than the other games they had played. 

She posed. Steven took two pictures of her, and they watched them develop. 

“Let’s take some more,” she urged. 

“Okay. First take your dress off.” 

“What!?” 

“Take your dress off.” 

“No! Why should I?” 

“That’s what grown-up women do when they get their pictures taken.” 

“No they don’t,” the girl said, though she wasn’t sure. 

“Your mom’s getting her picture taken right now, and that’s what she did.” 

“I don’t believe you!” 

Steven paused. “Your mom’s wearing blue underwear,” he said. 

The girl was taken aback. She had seen her mother getting dressed that morning. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yep,” said Steven. 

“Well,” the girl smiled, “I guess it’s okay.” 

They took several more photos. Steven became more curious. 

“Now take your underpants off,” he said. He wasn’t sure she would agree to this, but he wanted to find out. Something told him that if he said it matter-of-factly and seemed perfectly natural it would be more likely to happen. 

The girl looked at him skeptically. Finally she spoke. 

“Promise you won’t tell,” she smiled. 

* * * * 

“These are very nice pictures,” said William. 

“Thank you,” beamed Steven. 

“But here’s the thing. It’s hard to explain, but we could both get in big trouble if anyone found these. So I’ll take them for safe-keeping, and we’ll agree never to tell anyone about them, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

William looked at them again. They were very cute and natural. This was back in the days before the Internet, before Photoshop, before there were any but the most difficult methods for men with a certain appalling character defect to gratify their perverted desires. 

I know someone who would be very interested in marketing these, William thought to himself. 

* * * * 

The plane touched down and Steven looked excitedly out the window. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to Disney!” he exclaimed. 

William sat back and closed his eyes. It had been four months, 14 playdates and five little girls since that afternoon. 

“Well, I want you to enjoy yourself. You deserve it,” William said. 

After all, he thought, you paid for it. That and a lot else.

82. By Julie

ack left Steve’s room and walked randomly through the hotel, having no idea where he was going, walking just for the sake of walking. His insides were twisting. He felt haunted. 

Only a few hours ago his world was wonderful. He was dancing with one bridesmaid, and pocketing her panties, while another waited anxiously (and dresslessly) for him at the pool. Yes, he’d been humiliated years ago by a third bridesmaid, but tonight he had doubly made up for it. 

And then everything started falling apart. 

He found out the bridesmaid who had danced with him and encouraged him had been set up to do so … by Steve. 

The other bridesmaid? He still suspected she flirted with him solely because it would gall the wedding party. 

He had been punched out by two guys, badly, to the point where he was still sore and limping. All because he had tried to save Julie from Steve … and had failed to do so. 

Then he had turned around and betrayed Julie by giving in to Steve’s scheme. 

Then he tried to save her again, by standing up to Tim and Dave. But he hadn’t even been man enough to confront them directly … Tim and Dave! Instead he had Carl and Alyssa do his dirty work for him. 

And why? So he could go confront Steve. Without a plan. Without a goal. He had wanted to punch Steve so badly in his suite. But when it came to it … when Steve taunted him about it … he couldn’t do it. He had failed again. 

His entire evening was a string of humiliations, he thought to himself. An epic series of failures to be a man. 

Just like his entire life, he thought bitterly. Jennifer and the handcuffs were just the most obvious manifestation. He was always being handcuffed by women, subordinated, unmanned. He could never seem to find a way out. It had all looked so promising in the ballroom, for one brief moment, dancing with Alyssa, thinking of Julie. Finally he was in charge. Finally he was getting his way … until the stroke of midnight, and then, like Cinderella, the whole illusion fell apart, and he was once again just old Jack … the person he hated himself for being. 

He walked into a service room, punched the ice machine … and grimaced as his hand hurt like hell.

83. By Julie

After Jack left, Steve fell into a chair. It’s all over, he told himself. He was convinced that Lisa wasn’t in on the plot and had no idea where the camera was. And he was convinced that he had been wrong about Jack; Jack was an idiot and had no idea either. The camera was gone. All gone. 

On an odd impulse, Steve went and retrieved my dress and purse. As he did so, something caught his eye. He felt around the TV. And he found it: the hidden camera he had put in the bedroom to capture the bridesmaids. Someone had moved it; it was aimed at the living room. Who could have done it? Only one person could have, because only one other person knew about it – Mike. Obviously Mike was spying on him, trying to find out about him and Cindy. 

Had he let anything slip? No, he didn’t think so. Anyway, what the hell? It was Mike’s problem for not keeping a tighter rein on his fiancée. Besides, he never even went after Cindy. She had thrown herself at him, plain and simple. All he did was not say no. 

Steve brought my things to the couch, sat down, and set them on the table. He took the cocaine out of the purse. Almost absentmindedly he began preparing a line. The whole plan is shot; I might as well enjoy it, he thought. 

Steve snorted the coke, then sat back and looked at the ceiling. What a night. Not only had the plan gone awry, but he had taken a lot of abuse. Jack, his old drug dealer, had punched him and cursed him. He was still sore from the fight. The hotel dick had snarled at him. God, now he’d want his money, too; Steve would have to figure out a way to finesse that. Mike, his old friend, was onto him about Cindy. Make that his ex-friend. 

Even Alyssa had gone haywire on him. 

Steve picked up my dress and ran his fingers over it softly. He slid it under his nose, smelling the fabric. He held it up and looked at it. 

Why does Julie affect me the way she does, he wondered. Why can’t I play her the way I play other women? Am I not trying? 

Steve snorted another line. He had a funny memory, of the little girl he first photographed so many years ago. He had enjoyed that. It was simple. It was innocent, sort of. Then Grandpa encouraged it. It started out as a fun dare, but Grandpa had turned it into taking advantage of someone. Over time it became a skill, a job, an identity, a lifestyle. In some weird way he never outgrew it. He was still a little boy, always playing the same game, over and over again. 

He opened my purse. He took out my perfume, sprayed it into the air, and smelled it. He remembered the other times he had smelled it, at all the events leading up to the wedding. The way he teased me. His attempts to provoke me. How I reacted. How he felt. 

Then he remembered what it was like when he learned about the real estate deal. How he offered to manipulate me for Michele. How he concocted a plan. How he told himself it was all about the money. 

He opened my purse and looked at my driver’s license. He stared at it for a few moments. That’s not her, he said to himself. 

And a weird sense came to him: He had had dozens of women, and they were filed in his mind like so many driver’s licenses. Nothing more than a name, a photograph, and a listing of height and weight, eye and hair color. A life in two dimensions. 

He looked at my license. Julie’s more than that, he thought. The license had her name and her picture but not her spirit, her attitude, not her scent, not the way she looked in her bridesmaid’s gown. 

He remembered Julie in the gown, the first time he cornered her at the pool, before Jack emerged from the water. What a jerk Jack was. What a loser. I suppose Jack has feelings, he thought. I suppose he cares about Julie in some way. I suppose he cares about that woman at the front desk in some way, too. Which of course makes him a loser. 

But which probably makes him the kind of person Julie would willingly sleep with. Flirt with. Be kind to. Care about. 

Have feelings for. 

Laugh with. Cry with. Dream with. Respect. 

Love. 

He buried his head in my dress. He felt an ache in some part of him that he never knew existed. Maybe it was his heart. 

Some time passed – he couldn’t have said how long – then he remembered that Jennifer was waiting for him downstairs. What the hell, he thought. He didn’t care anymore. It didn’t matter. It was all over. Nothing mattered. 

Steve knew that Jennifer and Grandpa were an item, and it didn’t bother him, except that Jennifer was always stuck-up around Steve, like she had one-upped him or something. He would enjoy telling her that she could forget about this deal. That she might want in, but there was no in any more. He hid the rest of the cocaine and headed downstairs. 

Outside his room he heard someone call him. It was a cop. Slowly his face broke into an ironic grin as he recognized Chilton. 

“Hello, officer,” he said. 

“Come with me,” Chilton said abruptly. “I have a few questions.” 

“Am I under arrest, officer?” 

“I believe I have grounds to detain you on suspicion of possession of a controlled substance.” 

“Supplied by you.” 

“No one can prove that.” 

Steve just stared at him, feeling nothing. 

Chilton stood with his hand on his service revolver. “Follow me, please. We need to talk.”

84. By Julie

After Mike left Steve’s room, he heard someone down the hall called his name in a hushed voice. It was Jennifer. 

“C’mere,” she said. She motioned him into the stairwell. Once the door had closed, he looked at her. She had adjusted her dress and her cleavage was no longer at quite such an extreme. 

“We need to talk,” she said. 

“What’s up, Jennifer?” 

“I have the camera.” 

There was silence. Mike was stunned for a moment. “YOU have the camera?” 

“Yep. And as of now, I’m in charge of this operation, not fucking Steve Gibson.” 

When Jennifer and Mike had entered the stairwell, Lisa, one floor below, stopped crying and was silent. But at the sound of Steve Gibson’s name, she startled. She moved quietly to where she could hear better and be sure she wouldn’t be seen. 

“How did you get the camera?” 

“None of your business. The point is I now have the goods.” 

“Wait a minute,” said Mike. “You didn’t just find the camera somewhere and figure this all out. You’re working with someone.” 

Jennifer weighed her answer. “Maybe. Maybe I’m working with someone who wants to stay invisible, who doesn’t want to have fingerprints all over the deal. It doesn’t matter to you. What matters is I’m in charge. You’ll still get your cut, don’t worry, but you have to do as I say.” 

“Is it Jack? Steve told me Jack had the camera.” 

“Jack? Who’s Jack?” 

“Jack – the waiter at the reception tonight. Don’t tell me you don’t remember him.” 

Lisa’s eyes were wide open now, and showed no signs of tears. She listened intently. 

“Why the hell would I remember a waiter?” 

“Because,” Mike smiled, “he was a security guard back in college. The same one you handcuffed to a tree naked at the end of senior year.” 

“THAT security guard?” Jennifer was amazed, then she laughed loudly and derisively. 

“Yep,” said Mike. “The one who had to take a leave of absence through graduation because he was too humiliated to be seen on campus.” 

“God – he was a waiter tonight?” 

“Yep.” 

Finally Jennifer understood to whom Mike had been talking when she overheard him earlier. 

“That schmuck is not capable of stealing the camera, or anything else. Besides, it seems to me he’s on Julie’s side – like he was trying to do the honorable thing and save her.” She smirked audibly when she said the words “honorable” and “save.” 

“Well, yeah, Jack’s a nice guy. Way too nice, maybe. I offered cut him in on the deal. But I don’t think he was really interested; I think he was just playing me so he could buy time and help Julie.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Jennifer smiled. “Anyway, you let me take care of Jack. It seems to me I already took care of him pretty well once before.” 

Mike sniggered. “What about Steve?” he asked. 

“Are you so concerned about him?” Jennifer asked sarcastically. “I thought you were mad at him on account of his sleeping with your fiancée.” 

Mike was silent. He was angry and jealous. “You don’t know that for a fact,” he said. 

Jennifer paused. “No, I don’t. But I know Steve. And I see no reason why he needs to be part of this deal any more. Seems to me he fucked it up. Sleazing women and lying to them might be his specialty, but blackmailing them is definitely not.” 

“You don’t like him either, do you?” Mike asked. (Had he been a little more perceptive he might have sensed that both he and Jennifer were, in different or not-so-different ways, jealous of Steve.) 

“I’m tired of him,” Jennifer answered. “It was so transparent when he invited the bridesmaids to change clothes in his bedroom. First thing I did was look for the hidden camera. It took me like two minutes to find it.” 

“What did you do with it?” 

“I put it in the living room. We changed in the bedroom, and when he looks at the recording all he’ll see is whatever happened in the living room.” She smiled at her own ingenuity. 

“Okay, fine. So what do we do now?” 

“You’re up, Mike. Go tell Julie we have the camera and she has one week to get her parents to agree to sell the real estate. Otherwise the delightful little striptease Steve tricked her into performing is going to be YouTubed by every horny male adolescent in the Western hemisphere.” 

Mike smiled in spite of himself. He always knew Jennifer was a firecracker; he just never realized how much of one. 

“And then?” 

“You’re going to tell Mark and Michele that if they want the deal, we get 60% of the proceeds. Do not mention my name, or you’ll lose your share. Which, by the way, is the amount you originally bargained for with Steve, no more and no less. I’m cheap.” 

“Sixty percent? Mark and Michele will be furious!” 

Jennifer laughed. “Yeah, they probably will. But they’ll come around. After they calm down, they’ll figure out that if they play ball with us, they’ll still get millions, and if they don’t, they’ll get nothing. So they’ll agree. Give them a day or two to blow their stack, and then they’ll agree.” 

Mike whistled. 

“If you’re getting 60 percent, I want a larger share,” he said. “That’s only fair.” 

Jennifer smiled. “I’ll give you a bonus if you’re a very good boy,” she teased. 

“And I think I was supposed to be compensated in another way as well.” 

“God – boys!” Jennifer exclaimed mockingly. “Fine. Whatever. I just want the real estate deal. You can make your little bridesmaid give you a lap dance and road head every day for a year as far as I’m concerned. Only, I have to say I question your taste, Mike. I frankly think you could get hotter women in your sleep.” 

Mike was silent for a moment. “It’s not me who’s attracted to her. It’s Steve. Have you seen the way he behaves around her? How he won’t let up with her or quit talking about her? Even before this deal came up. It’s weird. It’s like he’s … obsessed.” Mike stared at his shoes for a moment. Then he spoke more slowly. “If he’s messing with Cindy, then I would really enjoy being able to tell him every detail about how I’m fucking the brains out of that little object of his affection.” 

Jennifer smiled. She remembered how quickly Grandpa was able to intuit the truth about Steve’s motives. Grandpa, she thought, was really, really, really good. 

“Fine,” she said. “As long as I get the money. And I’m glad you’re going to like fucking her brains, because that’s about the closest thing she has to an attractive feature.” 

Mike smiled wryly. 

“One more thing,” said Jennifer. “Give Julie back her dress and her purse, and ditch the cocaine. We don’t want her to be able to pin a theft or a drug rap on us. What do we look like – criminals?” 

They both laughed, and walked back into the hall. Lisa stood against the wall for support; her entire body was shaking.

85. By Julie

ack slid down to the linoleum floor. He took a few ice cubes from the machine and held them against his throbbing hand. 

His mind ached worse than his hand. He vividly remembered every detail of the last encounter, of how Steve had turned Lisa against him. The bastard! What right did he have to do that? Wasn’t there anything of his he didn’t try to destroy? 

God, Lisa, he thought. Lisa, Lisa. Losing Lisa, losing Lisa’s trust, if that’s what had happened, hurt worse than anything. Lisa was always good to him. She truly enjoyed him. She treated him like a beloved little brother. He stopped and thought about that. Why always a brother? Why little? Why wasn’t he treated like … a man? 

Because … it came slowly to him … his idea of a man was wrong. His idea of a man was … he grimaced as he admitted it to himself … Steve. He had a little boy’s idea of what it was to be a man. 

His idea of being a man was flirting meaninglessly with two bridesmaids and getting their panties off. But did that really make him feel like a man? He had ended up hurting Julie, embarrassing her, in the way that Steve had wanted to hurt her and embarrass her. Did he enjoy it? Did it make him feel manly? No. It didn’t. It made him feel ashamed. 

He had slept with Alyssa. Had sex with a bimbo. Just like Steve always did. Did that make him a man? No. It didn’t make him happy. It didn’t make him someone he could respect. 

It was Tim and Dave’s concept of a man. And Tim and Dave were pathetic. 

That’s why Lisa’s siding with Steve hurt like hell. Lisa had always genuinely liked Jack. They could laugh together. They could read each other’s minds. Lisa saw what was good and noble in Jack and forgave his immaturity. If she sometimes treated him like a little brother, it was because he behaved like one. But she liked him and respected him even when he didn’t respect himself. She was willing to wait for him to grow up. 

She was, he slowly realized, the one person he truly cared about. 

And Steve had stolen her from him. She no longer trusted him. And he couldn’t explain to her what had happened, how he had behaved that night, why he did what he did. He couldn’t begin to explain, and if he did she wouldn’t believe him and wouldn’t understand. 

He had lost her. 

He punched the ice machine again, and gasped in pain.

86. By Julie

His eyes traced over my body from behind. There I was in Alyssa’s little black nightie. Once again, I was out scantily dressed. Alyssa stood by, arms crossed and looking worried. 

He walked closer to me, and saw us talking quietly. Out of the corner of my eye I caught him. My mouth dropped wide open and Alyssa took a step back. This was the last person either of us expected. 

“We need to talk,” Mike said, as he held out my bridesmaid’s dress draped over his arm and my pocketbook. 

Alyssa and I glanced at each other.

87. By Julie

Jack walked with a purpose now. He headed for the employee lounge. It was all over. He had no reason to stay. He would empty his locker and go home. In the morning he’d call in and quit his job. He’d leave town. There was nothing to keep him. Steve had won. Jennifer had won. He had tried to play their game, but they were the masters. He’d lost everything he cared about. 

Nothing mattered anymore. What the hell. All Jack wanted was to give up, to get out of the hotel. Anywhere would be better than this hotel, this nightmarish vortex that sucked out all his life and hope and dignity. 

He stormed past the front desk. “Hey Jack,” called Emily, smiling. “Remember that idiot guest who I told you locked herself out an hour ago? Guess what – she did it again! How stupid can people be?” 

“Whatever,” said Jack. He strode past her and into the lounge. He opened his locker, took out a gym bag, and began violently stuffing his belongings into it. He muttered to himself. Finally he zipped the bag, and closed the locker. As the locker door shut he could see beyond it a figure in the doorway. 

There was a pause. 

“Lisa…?” 

Lisa stood silently in the doorway for a moment, looking at him. Then she walked toward him, with an expression on her face that he had never seen. 

Jack froze. They looked at each other for a long moment. Finally Lisa spoke. 

“We need to talk,” she said.