Authors: Michael Malflic
“What you thought that would change if you fucked me?” Vincent jousted back.
Nadrea
got up to get dressed. The latex
pants
looked like more of a challenge than she cared to admit.
“I’ve got shorts in the bag over there.” he offered.
Nadrea
begrudgingly accepted. She readied herself and called down to make sure a cab would be waiting, at that hour of the night most of the time they were not. Vincent gave her a piece of paper with his cell number on it. And good
byes
were said. As she left, he placed the do not disturb sign on the door. Turned the TV on to ESPN, drew the shades and after his fourth shower in just under twenty four hours arranged for a late check out and a wakeup call before falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV.
Christy was sitting in her apartment, The Post open in front of her pouring hot water into an oversized cup that had a
Twinnings
English Breakfast Blend tea bag sitting in it waiting for the water to strike and the flavor to seep out, which was of course the culmination of a tea bag’s purpose. While the tea bag served its purpose she wondered about her time last night with Michal. The conversation was measured, it was well paced and he had asked seemingly odd questions. They entered separately meeting at the table and left much the same way. Michal was well dressed, his hair was perfect. People in the Beltway said he had sold his soul to the devil, a bold accusation considering most people of power had done the same. Rumors abound that he only wore black suits and white shirts. This was not of course true, he mostly wore very dark grey suits, with varying shades of white in his shirt collection and would only on rare occasions wear a bright tie, they too were mostly solid and dark in nature. If
Nadrea’s
scent was the aroma of sex, Michal’s was that of the devil, tempting and seductive, yet evil. He was the kind of man who could and did move one’s career along, but at what price most were never quite sure. He was a riddle in and of himself, the product of greed and power. The descendent of lineage and intellect, but despite his blood lines more philanthropic beliefs he believed that power and influence were his gifts to the world. He was of course right and he used them well.
By now Christy was on her second cup of tea, still playing and replaying the previous nights’ events. Why was she there? Had she in some way tipped her hand or provided insight not only into Robert’s thoughts and plans, like she really knew what they were at this point, she thought to herself. Or worse yet, had she given Michal a glimpse of what was inside of her. Surely a man like him couldn’t steal her soul over one dinner like he had done to so many others. Playing it over and over again what was it he said. For some unknown reason he kept making reference to the number 23 during the conversation. Early on during some warm up political banter he brought up the twenty third
Amendment
to the United
States Constitution. At the time, she didn’t think it was odd, people in DC discussed old and seemingly irrelevant pieces of legislation on a regular basis so the debate and discussion over an amendment that had been proposed in June of 1960 and ratified in March of 1961 giving the District of Columbia electoral rights in the presidential election process, the electoral college in particular. She ran the conversation over and over staring at the paper, but not reading a word. Was she there because the Husker had greater political aspirations, was he considering the senate seat, or the governor’s race? Could it possibly be that he was considering a presidential run? It was of course unlikely, he was only a Representative from an agriculture state that had an appropriately sized population for what it was. She pondered and her mind turned and turned on this one. Was she being forewarned of these possibilities or was she being sized up to determine if she could keep her place in line and rise with him?
Moving on to the next conversation she rolled through it as nothing more than her giving him her resume, he put people places at times so one day she might be a recommendation of his, no harm there. Soon the conversation turned to the arts and to literature, as she replayed yet another portion of the previous evening in her head. She started to wonder from room to room peering aimlessly out the windows looking onto the streets below. She thought of how he referenced the restaurant being of dark wood and dimly lit reminded him of a favorite childhood book, “a child’s tale really, the Hounds of the Baskerville’s” as he went on to summarize in particular his recollection of passage between Dr. Mortimer, Holmes, Watson, and Sir Henry Baskerville, a idly placed letter and the fact that there were twenty three hotels in charring cross. She was attentive, but not a Sherlock Holmes fan so in no way could she relate to the story as he told it in summary providing more odd bits of detail here and there.
As dinner wore on to dessert, she remembered an odd conversation of religion. Seeing as their party was most often associated with conservative moral causes it was not completely inappropriate, but odd none the less. He brought up the idea of God, a scripture. To Christy a man seen as a minion of Satan by most, even many of
those associated with him discussing God was more than a bit disconcerting. Was he a Trojan bearing gifts? She remembered thinking at the time, but boys will be boys, some men love having arch enemies to discuss, pagans to smite, and plans to rule the world by crushing one’s enemies. Perhaps she was seeing the devils plans for God, but then again
came
the number 23 this time in a series of biblical references. He talked about the 23
rd
verse of Genesis being the 5
th
day of creation about evening and day.
Then after a few more odd references he moved in on to Psalm 23, which he quoted verbatim
“
1
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2
He
maketh
me to lie down in green pastures: he
leadeth
me beside the still waters.
3
He
restoreth
my soul: he
leadeth
me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
4
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will
fear
no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5
Thou
preparest
a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou
anointest
my head with oil; my cup
runneth
over.
6
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”
He explained how it’s true meaning was about having a prosperous life then tying it in explained that both Genesis 39 & 40 have exactly twenty three verses, they dealt with a rise to power to lies and to deceit. She thought she finally understood why she was there as she continued hearing Michal’s words in her head. Dungeons and lies but rising back to power, she had lied, spoken half truths and
mis
-stepped she was convinced though that he was telling her that as the Husker rose to power and prosperity she would be given a second chance. Then she thought about his final words about the number 23, she hadn’t seen a man so obsessed with a single number since junior high when the boys all fell in love with the number 69. The elation and feeling of salvation and redemption faded as she looked up chapter twenty three in Genesis which was what he told her to read again some time. The chapter was not about prosperity it was depressingly and completely about death. She was again as lost in the end as she had been when she
started. Picking up the phone she called the Husker’s cell phone. The phone was answered but before he said hello she heard him say “Thanks. I’ll be ready in just a minute” and a female voice respond with “No hurry”. It was a voice she did not know.
After greetings were exchanged she briefed him on the first of the two meetings in painstakingly accurate detail. The Husker listened to Christy politely. Then she started in on the dinner meeting.
“It was a nice time.” She stated.
“Glad to hear it, he’s not what most people accuse him of being.”
“Well, since you brought it up. I’ve been trying to make sense of why I was there.”
The husker reassured her that he was simply a good person to know, and that the meaning of the meeting was not because of greater ambitions for
himself
at that time, it was of course always a possibility but he liked his life. She still had no insight. So as they closed Christy asked “Will you at breakfast tomorrow?”
He paused “I will, but I might be a few minutes late, I have a morning workout.”
“No problem, most of the group is usually late.”
“I know I’m not typically, and could you have them set the table for one more? I’m bringing a guest.”
“It’s a big group from what I hear, but I’ll call them now”
Final good
byes
were said and they hung up. The Husker headed down the hall to catch up with Donna. Christy looked at the list of attendees for the next
day,
it was much larger than their typical group. She counted up the names and added hers and the Huskers to the count.
“Twenty two” she said out loud to an otherwise empty room. Then stopping cold remembered he had asked her to add someone. “Twenty three” her heart dropped, it all now made sense the only question that remained was would it be prosperity or death that he brought. She was not having a good day yet again.
Even before Donna opened her eyes, she could smell the aroma of coffee lingering through the air. So as her eyes focused there was no surprise as to where she was and what had happened.
Danced ‘til two thirty, showered and in bed by three fifteen.
The light of day was deceiving, although it felt like morning the brightness outside made it seem more like brunch. She took her time lying there and waking, coming to slowly it was early earlier than she would have liked. Times had changed as she slid into a white T-shirt with that damn red “N” emblazed on the entire front and a pair of sweats that she could have had made into three different pairs that fit correctly but still it was a thoughtful gesture to put them on the bench at the end of the bed. She moved like a vampire trying to avoid contact with the bright rays of light that were shinning through the edges of the blinds on the far wall.
“Morning.” the Husker greeted her softly despite his elevated levels of caffeine.
“Good morning.”
she
replied, her strides more of a lazy shuffle than actual steps, each foot seemed to refuse to lift from the ground as not to tempt gravity, balance, and coordination quite yet that day.
The Husker was more in the habit of four hours of sleep, yes four hours was fairly normal. Five hours was a lot and six hours of sleep on more than a rare occasion was only a little less than gluttonous in his mind. As Donna took her seat at the small table with two chairs in the condo’s alcove of windows and doors leading from the kitchen to one of the patios, he placed a latte by her left hand as she used her right to shield her face from the sun. Her mind becoming clear quite quickly wasn’t hesitating to remind her that her feet hurt from the previous nights’ relentless pounding. Lactic acid was still pooling in her weary legs and now tight hips, a byproducts of last night’s rhythms, some of which could still be heard in the distance somewhere inside of her head. The Husker sat a fruit plate on the table, it was seemingly well thought out and the pieces were even an arranged in a visually appealing
presentation. Sliced apple next to six grapes placed in a perfect row that butted up against three strawberries, that while cleaned and cord had seen better
days,
the deep red luster was becoming dark with age, firmness once a given thing, was now mostly a thing of the past.
The Husker in his classic all American good looks, looked like he fell out of the J. Crew late summer and early fall collection, his looks more traditional than that of a man who danced the night away for the first time in his life only a few hours earlier. Sure when he was young there were fall formals and homecoming. Christmas
regalia’s
and snow ball dances. Without fail he was always asked and accompanied someone to the Sadie Hawkins dance annually. As a sophomore he was asked to the prom by a senior cheerleader, more of a gold digger than someone of genuine interest in him. He had learned to choose his companion’s after that. In college there were mixers, and balls, cotillions and formals. As an adult he attended state dinners and inaugurations, he participated in the refined cultured world of dance, waltzes and what not. Before 13 hours ago he had never danced just to dance, instead he had always danced out of expectation and obligation, not for joy, or out of expression. He had never before moved in time with so many others out of reckless abandon before returning to his life, returning to duty, living up to expectations and not who he was supposed to be, for the first time understanding just slightly who he really was. He thought it might be OK to set his own expectations and care for his own needs. He thought of what Michal’s response in describing his concerns for his situation and relationship. As he explained his dilemma of keeping the relationship hidden and the pushing and questions and everything associated with that. She just sipped her latte and nibbled on grapes.