Behind The Mirror (The Chronicles of Enhanced Males Book 3) Page 3

I’m just in the middle of my last stretching session, when I hear the doorbell. I get dressed, put on my bathrobe and go downstairs. I hear the bell again.

  - I’m coming!

  I open the door and in front of my home see the last person I’d imagine would ring this doorbell. And the last person I want to see right now.

  - Hello, Mark. –Bryan mumbles with his lips tight. – May I come in?

  I’m frozen in shock for a few seconds.

  - Yeah… Sure, come in.

  He walks in and stops in the middle of the living room. He looks around but does not sit down.

  - Sit down, please.

  - That’s ok, I won’t be long.

  - Would you at least like something to drink?

  - No. Actually, water would be good. Regular.

  I go to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water. My thoughts are racing. What is this supposed to mean?

  I’m back and I see Bryan sitting on the couch, cracking his knuckles. He’s nervous. I suppose he’s here because of Valerie. He must have seen us together the other day. He clears his throat and confirms my doubts.

  - It seems that you and Valerie were more than just friends?

  He looks at me with those reptile eyes of his. The icy look of a psycho I know too well. A shiver goes down my spine.

  - So, tell me, Mark, when were you planning on telling me this?

  - Bryan... It was a long time ago. It’s been over for a long, long time. Valerie and I… We’re history.

  He suddenly gets up. He’s holding his arms down straight at his sides, his hands in tight fists. His eyes are burning, but his voice is still calm.

  - The past should remain buried deep down. No need for awakening it with accidental, let alone planned meetings.

  - It was a friendly drink, Bryan. Nothing else. For heaven’s sake.

  He’s quiet.

  - We were just recollecting some old memories. After all, we were together for almost eight years. It’s not something you bury deep. We parted as friends and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t say hello to each other when we meet.

  There. I’m standing in my own home, justifying myself to this psycho, instead of just kicking him out. Another evidence of how Bryan slides under your skin and doesn’t let you get rid of him.

  - You think I’m stupid, Mark?

  Now I’m quiet, stunned by the question.

  - You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?

  - I’m not trying anything, Bryan.

  - You trying to drive her away from me. Doing it behind my back, like always. In your perfidious, slimy way.

  - Wow, wait a second. – I’m boiling with rage. – We’re alone in here, no need for lying. We both know who did things behind whose back.

  - You’ve always been jealous of me, Mark, haven’t you? Of what I am and you will never become. Is that why you’re trying so hard to backbite and slander me?

  - I can’t believe what I’m hearing… You…

  - That’s right, Mark. You do it every time. Since we’ve met at college and now at work and in front of Valerie. Is that your goal? You want to destroy my life?

  - You’re destroying my life, you fucking bastard! Cursed be the day I met you.

  He comes closer. There’s a shadow on his face, and it feels like the devil himself is smiling.

  - You need to know one thing, Mark. Valerie… She means everything to me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I’m ready to go all the way. Rip the heart out of the chest of anyone who tries to fuck with me.

  He raises his voice and walks towards me. This sudden change makes me step back, clenching my fists.

  - Get out… - I barely utter in a hoarse voice.

  - You think you can order me around, Mark? What are you going to do?

  Of course, I do nothing, but just keep walking backwards, towards the kitchen. I’ll grab a knife, and we’ll see what happens.

  Bryan suddenly stops. He turns around and walks towards the door. I’m frozen and mute. He turns towards me once again, smiling as if he’s giving me the friendliest advice in the world.

  - If you think that what you’ve gone through so far was hell, you’re wrong, Mark. You’re about to learn the real meaning of the word hell. I’ll burn your life and career to the ground. Not even ash will be left for wind to scatter around. Mark my words: you’re finished.

  The doors shut, and I begin to shake. First my hands start quivering slightly, and then my whole body starts vibrating uncontrollably. I drag myself to the couch. My heart is pounding in my chest, ears, and head.

  I know that Bryan is not making empty threats. He harassed me for years for absolutely no reason; who knows what he’ll do now that I’ve stepped on his toes. I’ve disturbed a beehive. I’m in for a living hell.

  Unless I do something to prevent it.

  ***

  Shelly from personnel likes me. She always gets nervous and blushes when she sees me. So I flash my most irresistible smile as I walk up to her desk.

  - Shelly, you look lovely today. A new haircut?

  - Thanks, Mark. – she blushes. – No, I haven’t changed it.

  - Then the lipstick? New glass frames? Something’s making you pop.

  - I really don’t know. – she looks down shyly.

  - Listen, I need a huge favor.

  She’s completely focused again.

  - You know that project I’m working on? No? Nevermind. Romano, he worked for us last summer. Now, about him. He worked on a similar project, so I could use his advice.

  I touch her hand. I feel her shiver under my fingers.

  - I need his contact info. He no longer uses his old email address, so… This is really important to me. And urgent. You understand me, Shelly?

  - I know, Mark. – she nods – But I’m supposed to go out on a break now.

  I know. That’s exactly why I came now.

  - It will take you just a minute to find it. His phone number, address, anything.

  Shelly is adamant.

  - Listen, let me. You go on a break, and I’ll find it.

  - I really shouldn’t.

  - Two minutes. That’s all it will take. Please, Shelly.

  - All right, but put the card back in the drawer.

  - Thanks. You’re a doll. I owe you a drink. – I wink and she blushes again.

  The folders are sorted alphabetically. I find Bryan’s file instantly. Bingo. A boy from the boonies taking the big city by storm.

  I leave the room, making sure no one sees me and put the card back in the drawer. I write Thank you! on a sticky note. Draw a smiley face as well. I stick it on Shelly’s monitor.

  I call Angela right away and ask her if I could take a couple of sick days. I tell her my mom is sick.

  - Sure, Mark. I hope it’s nothing serious?

  - No, it’s not. It’s pneumonia. It got a little complicated, and mom is hardheaded. She won’t listen to anyone but me.

  - Take all the time you need. And, take care, Mark.

  - I will, Angela. Thank you.

  In the morning, I fly to Minneapolis. It’s a perfect alibi, so I use my credit card to pay for the ticket. During the entire flight, I’m brimming with some kind of pleasant excitement. Three hours later, I’m in Minnesota. I leave no more traces, so I pay for the ticket to my next destination in cash. I read Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut as I wait for my flight. Forty minutes later, I board the plane, where a pretty stewardess serves the refreshments and informs us that we will be in Lincoln, Nebraska in a bit over an hour.

  After we land, I hail a cab, which takes me to my destination. Waverly, the small town Bryan grew up in. That’s all it said in the file.

  The best places to get all the information you need as quickly as possible are usually bars. Since I haven’t got the time to deal with the local administration officers and get them to tell me all I want to know, I go to a bar on the main street. It’s dark inside and pleasantly fresh, compared to the outside, where the
air is heavy as if it’s going to rain. There are two guests at the bar. The bartender behind the counter, who seems to be in his late thirties, is wiping the glasses. He looks at me and keeps looking as I approach him.

  - Good afternoon. A glass of bourbon, please.

  He’s still wiping a glass, saying nothing. He probably doesn’t have yuppies like me coming into his bar every day. He puts the dishcloth down and pours me a drink. I take a sip.

  - Excuse me, I’m looking for a family living here. The Aldridges. Do you happen to know them?

  He gives me an empty look and then shakes his head.

  - No Aldridges here.

  - Are you sure?

  - Sure am. I was born here and I’ve never heard of that family.

  - Russell Aldridge. – I hear a voice behind him. – He must be the one the gentleman’s asking about?

  From the room behind the counter comes a man in his late sixties, wearing a plaid shirt and a white apron. Probably the owner of the bar.

  - He moved here from Lincoln in the early eighties, with his wife and son.

  - Yes, that’s him. – I try not to sound excited. – Where can I find him?

  The owner turns to the bartender.

  - Tom, why don’t you go in the back and finish taking the inventory.

  - How come I don’t know him, boss?

  - You know his wife. Melinda Brooks.

  Tom goes silent. He looks at me, then gives the owner another look and leaves.

  - Where can I find him? – I repeat once again.

  - Up there. At least I hope he’s up there, considering what he’d gone through. Although, having in mind the way he left this world, he might be residing in the other place.

  - He died?

  - That’s right. Killed himself back in 1992. I’m surprised someone would come looking for him now. What brings you here, if I may know?

  - Insurance… And certain private affairs. Is his wife alive?

  - Sure is. – he says through his teeth. – Nothing could bring that one down.

  - Where can I find her?

  - Ask anyone in the town. Everybody knows her. – I can see that the owner is losing his temper.

  - I don’t understand.

  - Listen, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but she’s got a bad reputation.

  He goes to the door to the room where he sent Tom and shuts them. He looks around and continues in a lower voice.

  - This woman… She’s the reason why Russell… Why he killed himself.

  - Why?

  - When they moved here… They hadn’t even unpacked all the boxes, and she already, pardon my French, fucked the two guys from U-Haul. Russell saw them. And nothing, he just turned around. And she, that bitch, she just laughed hysterically.

  She pours us some bourbon. He takes a sip and continues.

  - She slept with every man in the town. Russell knew she was messing around behind his back, but he did nothing. He was too good of a guy to ever raise his hand against her. If he had divorced her, he would have lost his son. And he was the only person he loved. What was the kid’s name? Brad… Ben…

  - Bryan. – I utter silently.

  - That’s right, Bryan. So poor Russell remained quiet and put up with everything she did, and she was out of control. As if she was a wild beast. As if she was possessed by the devil. Even…

  He sighs and looks down.

  - Even I have been with her once. I could never forgive myself, especially after… Oh, I was young, strong, and irresponsible. I didn’t think about my actions.

  - What happened after Russell died?

  - Nothing changed. She continued behaving like before, still loose and wild, but now the kid was the one who had to witness it. Things he saw, the poor child, no wonder he was like that.

  - Like what?

  - I guess it all affected him. He became a problem child. Skipping school, getting into fights, drinking, even starting a few fires. He allegedly killed a homeless guy who was passing through the town.

  - Killed?

  - They never proved it. Maurice Johnson allegedly saw someone who looked like the kid, but he was too drunk for his testimony to be valid. They found nothing else.

  - What happened to Bryan?

  - He skipped town when he was 16. No one has seen him or heard of him since. Who knows, maybe he ended up a homeless alcoholic. I don’t believe he achieved much in life.

  I swallow a lump in my throat.

  As soon as I’m out of the pleasant darkness and freshness of the bar, the swelter hits me on the head and starts banging my temples like a hammer. I’m holding a paper with the address of the place where the Aldridge family used to live. Where Bryan’s mother still lives. I have an ugly feeling in my stomach, after hearing their story. I’m no longer sure this was a good idea. But I make myself finish what I have started. I have to find out as much as possible about Bryan, so I could be at least a few steps ahead in our little game of cat and mouse.

  ***

  I walk the empty streets. Everyone has gone inside, away from the swelter of the afternoon. Five minutes later, I find the street from the address. No. 243. A white house with a tended lawn and flowers along the path. I knock and shiver with expectation. I expect an old and miserable woman, abandoned by all, to open the door. A wreck, with nothing and no one but her own inner demons.

  And yet, the woman who shows up at the door leaves me speechless. Wearing a sleeveless shirt and a tiny denim shorts, with short red hair and impeccable skin without a single wrinkle. Although she should be 55 or 56, she looks at least ten years younger. Above the high, round cheekbones, two curious, slightly slanted blue eyes are looking at me. I now understand how she caused such a mess in this boring little town. She smiles with her full lips and shows me her perfect pearly whites.

  - Yes?

  - Um... sorry to bother you. They told me this is the house of the Aldridge family.

  - It is. – her smile fades ever so slightly. – And you are?

  - Garth... I’m… A friend of Bryan’s.

  - Melinda. – she offers me her hand. – A friend of Bryan’s, you say?

  - Yes. Is he in?

  - No.

  - He went out?

  - Please, come in. – she moves to the side and shows me in.

  I walk after her into the half-dark hallway.

  - I thought I’d find him here. You know, I haven’t seen him for a while, so I thought I could come by and look for him.

  When she turns towards me, her eyes are filled with tears.

  - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…

  - No. – she wipes off her hears and smiles again. – I’m sorry. I haven’t seen my son for a long time. It’s been years.

  I feign surprise.

  - I don’t know where he is, what he does. I don’t even know if he’s alive.

  - He’s alive. – I say quietly.

  - That’s good news. – she takes me by the hand. – The first one in a long time.

  She has me sit down on a couch in the living room.

  - I believe there’s no need to be formal. How did you meet Bryan?

  - We worked together. I have switched jobs recently and I’ve lost touch with him. He mentioned living her with his mother.

  - Well, he isn’t, but I’m still glad he sometimes thinks of me. – she stands up. – That’s great news and it calls for a toast.

  - Please, you really don’t have to…

  - I have just the right drink for this heat. And stop being so formal. – she smiles and goes into the kitchen.

  After a few minutes, she’s back, holding two daiquiris in large glasses.

  - Here we go. – she leaves the glasses on the table. – So how’s my Bryan doing?

  I start talking about how successful he is, changing a detail or two, so I could avoid telling her the real truth. What a psychotic madman her son really is.

  After I’ve cheered her up, I start asking her about Bryan. So she opens up and starts tal
king about everything, his childhood, his first tears, loves, academic achievements. Of course, she says nothing about being a problem child. I don’t want to insist on it either.

  At one point, she gets up and takes two photo albums from the shelf underneath the TV. She shows me photos of Bryan when he was a kid. In the black-and-white and polaroid photos which make up the greater part of the albums, Bryan looks like a happy, carefree, and normal child. All this makes me even less sure that coming here was a good idea.

  - I’ll go grab us another drink.

  - No, really…

  She floats away and after a minute or two, she’s back with two glasses filled to the top.

  - Madam, you really shouldn’t have…

  - I’ve already told you not to be so formal. And call me Melinda.

  She lowers her hand on my thigh and starts caressing me, sliding it up and down. With every movement, she slides her hand higher and higher, her thumb touching my testicles ever so slightly. She looks at me and caresses my cheek with the top of her other hand.

  - You’re cute. A real high school heartthrob.

  She moves her hand from my thigh onto my dick and starts squeezing it. He doesn’t mind, and in less than a second is as hard as a rock. She presses her lips against mine. Her breath smells of rum and lime. She sucks my tongue as she skillfully unzips my pants. I struggle with the buttons on her shirt. She moves back and does the work for me. In a second, she’s wearing nothing but the light pink panties and bra, which soon end up on the floor. She’s got a perfect body, and years have hardly left a mark on it. She gets down on her knees and pulls my pants and my boxers down.