Man of Wax (10 page)

“Are you okay?”
 

I nodded, thinking that this was the police, that Simon’s number one rule was not to speak to the police, not if I ever wanted to see my family again.
 

“Shit,” someone else said. “They got both the glasses and the phone.”
 

A car suddenly pulled up. The two men dragged me toward the car. One of them opened the back door and the other threw me inside and climbed in after me and the door closed and the front door opened and the other guy climbed in and then the car was moving again, picking up speed into traffic.
 

“What happened?” I said, looking at the man in the back with me, at the driver and passenger up front. “Who are you?”
 

“Relax, Ben. Everything is going to be fine.”
 

“How ... how do you know my name?”
 

The man touched his ear and said, “Yeah ... I know ... I figured they might try to make a play, too ... I think we should switch locations ... I understand ... I’ll let you know,” and the entire time I sat there, breathing heavy, shaking worse than ever. The man’s voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it, not then, not after everything that had just happened.
 

I said, “Simon?”
 

The man ignored me. He said to the driver, “Head back and we’ll drop him off. He wasn’t that beat up.”
 

The driver turned at the next intersection. The man looked back at me.
 

“Unfortunately all we have right now is an extra pair of glasses. We’ll have to get a new cell phone to you later.”
 

“Simon?”
 

The man ignored me again, reaching out and grabbing my chin and moving my head back and forth as he inspected my face.
 

“There really isn’t any bruising, so you’re lucky in that respect. Still, once you get inside, go to the restroom and clean up. Then go to the bar and order a Budweiser. Sit at the very end of the bar and wait. Got it?”
 

I nodded dumbly.
 

The man in the front passenger seat handed a black eyeglass case to the man in the back, who opened it and took out a new pair of glasses and handed them to me.
 

“See how they fit.”
 

I put them on. Just like the other pair, these felt awkward and pinched my nose, but at least I could see clearly now.
 

“Simon?” I said again.
 

“Would you shut the fuck up? Get your head in the game. If you want to save your wife and daughter, play by the rules and don’t try to mix things up again. Got it?”
 

I nodded dumbly again. The man’s voice was still familiar but I couldn’t place it. It wasn’t Simon’s voice, though; I knew that for a fact. Still, how did I know this man?
 

The car slowed and stopped and the man opened his door and stepped out and motioned me to do the same. I got out, realized we were right in front of the Sundown Saloon. Two blocks down, a police cruiser sat with its roof lights flashing, two officers on the sidewalk talking to witnesses.
 

“Don’t even think about it,” the man whispered.
 

“I’m not.”
 

“Sure.” The man stepped back, touched his ear—I now saw he wore a Bluetooth—and said, “Start the transmission.” He got back into the car.
 

I stood there, watching the car pull away and drive down to the next block, disappear around a corner, then turned and stared at the two cops down the street just as another police cruiser pulled up. It hadn’t been too long that the shooting occurred; they had made decent time, though it hadn’t been soon enough.
 

Don’t even think about it
.
 

Right.
 

I entered the Sundown Saloon.

20

For lack of a better word, the Sundown Saloon was a dive. It was smoky and dim, people at tables and booths and the bar, talking and listening to what sounded like country music or just watching one of the half dozen TVs posted around the room.
 

I went directly toward the back where the restrooms were located. I stood at the urinal acting like I was taking a piss but was really waiting for the two guys who were already in here to finish up and leave. Once they were gone, I turned away and approached the sinks and stared at myself in the mirror.
 

Like the man in the car said, there wasn’t much bruising. Mostly just some dirt on my cheek which had been pressed down onto the sidewalk. I took off the glasses, set them aside, turned on the water and cupped some in my hand. I splashed my face twice, wiped it with paper towels, went to put the glasses back on but stopped.
 

This is for your own good
.
 

That was what one of my assailants had said to me right as they tried to get me into the van. Right before the shooting started and Simon’s men came to my rescue.
 

The restroom door opened and an old biker came in coughing up a lung.
 

I slipped the glasses back on my face, left the restroom, and headed for the bar.

•
   
•
   
•

J
UST
LIKE
THE
man that wasn’t Simon told me to do, I ordered a Budweiser and waited at the end of the bar. I waited for nearly ten minutes, nursing the beer, before she arrived.
 

She was the type of woman that literally made heads turn. She came in through the entrance and everyone looked her way, even the women. She was tall and blond and gorgeous, wearing a tight black top with a short black skirt and black four-inch heels. She had the kind of flawless, beautiful face you’d expect to find on glossy fashion magazines at the checkout lines at the grocery store.
 

And she walked directly up to me.
 

“Romeo?” she asked.
 

For a moment my mind was a complete blank. Then I nodded.
 

She smiled and extended her petite hand. “I’m Juliet.”
 

I shook her hand but didn’t say anything. I
couldn’t
say anything; this woman’s beauty literally made me speechless.
 

The smile didn’t leave her face. It was the kind of smile that knew it had power over people, especially men.
 

She asked, “Don’t you want to buy me a drink?”
 

I nodded and motioned at the bartender. He came over almost instantly, eager to take the woman’s order.
 

“A Cosmopolitan, please,” she said.
 

The bartender gave me a wicked grin before he turned away to mix the drink. Amid the country music and all the talking, I heard the faint ringing of a telephone behind the bar.
 

“So,” Juliet said, climbing up on the stool next to mine. “How long are you in town?”
 

Before I could answer (assuming I could even find my voice), the barman called out, “Are you Chase?”
 

I looked over to find him standing there with a portable phone held against his chest. I nodded and he said, “Call for you,” and handed me the phone.
 

I sat there with the phone in my hand, not sure what to do. I glanced at Juliet and she smiled back at me and said, “I think I’ll go freshen up,” leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before standing up and heading toward the restrooms. I watched her go, unable to take my eyes off her swaying ass, still smelling a waft of her perfume left behind, and then placed the phone to my ear.
 

Simon said, “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“This isn’t middle school, Ben. The time for shyness is over. Be a man and at least make conversation.”
 

“What do you want me to say?”
 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe start with something simple like ‘How are you doing?’ ”
 

“Who were those people from earlier?”
 

“Trouble,” Simon said, distaste in his voice. “Let’s not worry about them right now, okay?”
 

“What do they want?”
 

“Didn’t I just say let’s not worry about them?”
 

I knew pushing Simon wasn’t the best idea, so I decided to switch gears.
 

“The guy that gave me the glasses, I recognized his voice. He’s the cop that stopped to check on me before I reached Doyle, isn’t he?”
 

Simon chuckled. “Very good. You didn’t think we’d chance an actual encounter with a real police officer now, would you? Too many ways things could go wrong.”
 

“Then why have him there at all?”
 

“To keep you moving. If he hadn’t shown up, you would probably still be there crying your eyes out.”
 

The bartender came over with the Cosmopolitan. He set it on the bar and gave me another wicked grin, this time with a wink, before he turned away to take someone else’s order.
 

“Does the bartender work for you too?”
 

“No.”
 

“How about that driver from earlier?”
 

“No.”
 

“And the girl?”
 

“No. But she is a pro, if it’s not obvious already. And she’s very expensive.”
 

“I’m not going to sleep with her.”
 

“Again, Ben, you’re embarrassing yourself. Don’t be such a boy scout.”
 

“I will not do anything with her.”
 

“What’s the difference if it’s your wife or this woman? A pussy is a pussy is a pussy, as Gertrude Stein once said.”
 

I opened my mouth to say something else but then my eyes—which seemed to have been darting most of today, mostly to the glove compartment as I drove endlessly—darted now to my left hand. At the finger just between my middle and pinkie fingers. The one that should have had my wedding ring around it right this instant.
 

It was gone. In almost six years of marriage I’d never once taken it off, not even when I worked. I’d had the superstitious fear that if the ring were to come off I’d somehow wake up from whatever magnificent fantasy I was daydreaming, because surely my life couldn’t be this great, this complete, surely a woman like Jen would never marry a guy like me, and surely the two of us would never produce a child as amazing and perfect as Casey.
 

I’d worn it ever since Jen put it on my finger, and it had become so much a part of me that I was so used to seeing it, so used to feeling it, I hadn’t even noticed it was missing earlier today when I first woke up, or on the miles and miles and miles of driving. Did that make me a terrible person? Did it make me a terrible husband?
 

Simon said, “Well, Romeo?”
 

“I refuse.”
 

“Your mouth says that but what about your body? You’re only human. You have wants, needs, desires, just like everyone else. And like everyone else, those desires are sometimes dark. Sometimes they’re very dark.”
 

“I want to speak to my wife and daughter.”
 

“If you care anything for your wife and daughter, you’ll stop being a pussy and go fuck this woman. I don’t even know why you’re fighting me on this. You’ve seen all the different ways they do it on those websites. You have your own fetishes, the little things you always wanted to mention to Jennifer but always failed to in the end. Now here’s your chance.”
 

At the other end of the bar heads began to turn again and a moment later I saw Juliet emerge from the restrooms, headed directly my way. Her eyes were on me as she walked, that seductive smile on her face. She was just a girl, only twenty-one, maybe twenty-two, and even though I was just thirty-two I kept telling myself this was wrong. I thought of Casey and reminded myself that Juliet was somebody else’s daughter, just another little girl who’d once thought herself a princess before the dark reality of the world came crashing down all around her and she began to sell her body for sex.
 

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, doing everything in my power to make my voice as calm and collected as possible, while inside I wanted to tear myself apart, I wanted to breakdown and cry right here in front of everyone.
 

Simon said, “Goodbye, Ben.”
 

There was a click and he was gone, and then the music and the talking and shouting of the bar enveloped me once more.
 

I set the phone on the bar and glanced up to see the barman walking toward me. I handed him the phone, wanting to say thank you while at the same time wanting to spit in his face. Instead, just before Juliet returned to her stool, I heard myself asking him for two shots of Southern Comfort.
 

“For you and the lady?” he asked, already reaching behind him for two small tumblers resting upside down on a towel. There was no reaction when he said
lady
, no disapproval or resentment at all in his eyes or face, which maybe meant he was used to men coming in here looking to hire pussy.
 

I shook my head, thinking of Jen, thinking of Casey, thinking of being with them just yesterday. I tried remembering everything we’d done together, everything we’d talked about, but it was all coming up blank.
 

“No,” I said, ignoring Juliet as she climbed up onto the stool next to me, leaned over and kissed me again on the cheek. This time, out of nowhere, her hand touched my inner thigh and didn’t leave. “Just for me.” I threw three of the twenties down on the bar. “And keep them coming.”