Authors: Richard B. Dwyer
Briggs let go of Jim’s arm.
“By the way, she has a sister. A twin. You’ve got
my card.”
Across the room, now seated, Kimberly waved in
their direction. Briggs waved back.
“I have to go. Think about it.”
Briggs make his way to his table. He stopped
along the way, shaking hands and slapping backs.
Jim did think again about the offer from Briggs.
Yes, the State of Florida underpaid its Highway Patrol Troopers, and, yes, they
were often overworked. But those things didn’t matter. He loved doing something
that made a difference.
As the evening dragged on, Jim listened to speaker
after speaker talk about how technology would bring new jobs, new
opportunities, and new wealth to Florida. Occasionally, he caught Kimberly
glancing his way and he couldn’t help but think about Briggs’ offer. Even if he
didn’t want to.
When Kat left the club at four in the morning, she
found Bruce standing next to his new car. As a rule, she did not date men from the
club, not even the ones who bought the two-hundred-dollar bottles of crappy
champagne. It looked as though tonight might be an exception.
She walked out of the club wearing skin-tight,
low-cut jeans and high heels, though not as high as her club heels. A simple,
sleeveless shirt, tied in the front just above her navel, hid the parts she so
easily revealed inside the club. As she came around the west side of the
building, she knew Bruce would be watching for her. As she approached him, the
car caught Kat’s attention.
Bruce stood next to a red and black Dodge Viper
SRT10 convertible.
Impressive.
Quite a car for a chubby, middle-aged
bureaucrat with alimony payments.
Bruce had never talked much about money, but this
understated government-man had something going on. Now seeing the car, whatever
it was, she wanted some of it.
“I’m impressed, Bruce,” she said.
Bruce looked nonchalant, as if the car was
nothing special, but his eyes sparkled.
“New toy. That’s all. I came into a little money,
kind of an inheritance, and I always wanted a nice car.”
Kat stood close to Bruce where her perfume, and,
underneath the perfume, the musky residue of her sweat, would have its
strongest effect. When Bruce spoke again, his voice was quiet and wistful.
“A man ought to have at least one nice toy before
he gets too old to enjoy life,” he said.
Kat snaked both arms around Bruce’s waist,
pressing herself to him.
“Take me to breakfast, Bruce. Then let’s go play
with your new toy.”
Bruce took her home sometime after seven in the morning.
A security gate protected the residents’ complex. Bruce steered the Viper past
green spaces and numerous plants and trees that gave the complex a park-like
setting. With the Viper’s convertible top lowered, the heat from the morning
sun pressed down on them. He parked the Viper in front of her apartment. Kat
turned toward him and saw the anticipation on his face. Today, Bruce would be
disappointed.
“I’d invite you in, Bruce, but my brother is
staying with me right now and it’s only a one-bedroom apartment.”
She lied. She did not have a brother. She wanted
Bruce to wait. To keep him on the hook a little longer before she added her
body to the deal. She wanted to be sure the return on her investment would be
worth it. His lips turn down slightly, for just a moment. Something that
resembled a penciled-in smile replaced the momentary frown. His voice was
hesitant when he spoke.
“Maybe we can have dinner sometime. When you’re
not working.”
“That would be nice, Bruce,” she said.
Kat leaned forward and kissed him. It started as
a lingering kiss, full of promise, but she broke it off, turned away, and
opened the passenger door of the Viper. She stepped out and closed the door.
Still smiling, she blew Bruce a goodbye kiss.
“Call me, okay?”
Bruce’s answer was barely audible, “Okay.”
Kat did her best club stroll to the stairs. She
turned and waved. Bruce put the Viper in gear and drove away. Kat smiled again.
The hook was set just a little deeper.
She made her way up the stairs, dug her key out
of her purse, and opened the apartment door. She entered the apartment and
punched her code into the alarm panel. She tossed her purse on the sofa and
went into the bedroom. She was tired, but she had one more thing to do this
morning.
She opened the top drawer of her dresser — a
heavy and expensive Early American replica. It opened smoothly and quietly. For
the first time in her life, when Kat wanted something nice, she could afford
it.
Reaching into the drawer, she removed two taper
candles — one purple, one green. Virgin candles. Never used.
She also removed a small glass bottle of sacred
lotus oil. She opened the bottle and poured a small amount of the oil into her
right hand. The oil’s rich scent, a mixture of lotus, jasmine, and damask rose,
with a touch of vanilla and almond, both soothed and empowered.
She put the bottle down and picked up the purple
candle. She gently rubbed the sacred oil onto its eight-inch length. She took
her time, covering the entire length of the candle with a light coat of oil.
After placing the purple candle in one of two candleholders on the dresser, Kat
repeated the process with the green candle. Each candle had a specific purpose.
Purple for spiritual power. Green for money.
With both candles secured in their holders, Kat
crossed the room to a matching, cherry veneer computer armoire. She sat and
reached for a pen and note pad. On the paper, she wrote “Bruce York.” She
folded the paper into a small square and set it aside. Taking up the pen again,
she wrote “incredible riches” on the next sheet and folded it. She took both
notes to the dresser and placed the square with Bruce York’s name in front of
the purple candle, and the incredible riches note in front of the green one.
She reached back into the drawer and took out a
small matchbox. She removed a single match and struck it against the box’s
side. The tip of the match flared up, releasing its sulphuric odor. She lit
both candles, first the purple, then the green. She always lit the purple
candle first.
According to her understanding of candle magick
rules, lighting the candles in the correct order was one of the keys to getting
what she wanted. Kat blew out the match and placed it in an empty ashtray. The
flames of both candles danced in unison.
Kat picked up the note in front of the purple
candle and touched one corner to the flame. As the flame absorbed the paper,
she placed the burning note into the ashtray and she began to chant. No words.
Only beautiful, unintelligible syllables. Kat had learned to let the mood and
the moment determine the chant.
After the first note burned down to blackened
ash, Kat stopped chanting and picked up the second note. She touched it to the
flame of the green candle and then dropped the lit paper into the ashtray. As
it burned, new syllables floated from her lips. Her chant grew more emphatic.
Her voice louder, stronger. The syllables burst forth in a rapid staccato. Her
eyes focused on the green candle’s flame as the enchantment reached its final
crescendo.
The second note burned out and the chanting
stopped. She looked past the candle’s flame to her reflection in the mirror.
She thought about Bruce for a moment. He had told her that he had received
“kind of an inheritance.”
What did that mean? A kind of an inheritance?
The Kat in the mirror shrugged. It didn’t matter
what it meant. Money was money, no matter where it came from. Bruce had money,
she needed money. She had cast the spell and she would trust the magick.
Jim Demore drove into the parking lot of the luxury
resort that sat right before the bridge leading to Sanibel Island in Ft. Myers.
Kimberly, Jefferson Briggs’ girlfriend, was doing a photo shoot at the resort
and had invited him to meet her there.
He did not know how Kimberly got his personal cell
phone number, but he was pleasantly surprised when she called. Linda had not
called him since their last little “dust up” and he damn sure was not going to
call her.
He locked up the Charger and walked toward the
entrance. Once inside the main lobby, an impeccably dressed concierge accosted
him.
“May I help you, officer? I hope there is no
trouble.”
Jim smiled.
“No trouble.” Jim told the concierge. “I’m
meeting a friend. Kimberly...” He realized that he did not know Kimberly’s last
name. “She’s here for a photo shoot.”
“Follow me, please,” the concierge ordered.
Jim walked past twin, grand staircases and
elegant furniture. The concierge led him through glass doors set into the south
side of a trio of magnificent picture windows overlooking the pool and the
harbor. It was an impressive layout, and a side of Ft. Myers that he did not
usually get to see.
Outside again, the Florida sun blasted down on
Jim. He put his sunglasses back on. The sun’s rays shimmered and sparkled across
the water of the hotel’s huge pool. At the far end, in a separate lagoon-like
section, where a fountain pushed liquid silver back toward the sun, a
photographer and his crew splashed around taking pictures while two swimsuit
models frolicked together.
The concierge led him closer to the lagoon and
stopped at a set of theatre stanchions connected by a heavy velour rope. He was
close enough to recognize Kimberly as she posed and camped for the
photographer.
The other model, with her back toward Jim, had splashed
her way to the shallow water at the far end of the lagoon where an attendant
handed her a towel. He could not help comparing her slim, darkly tanned figure
with Kimberly’s lighter skin and more classic, hourglass shape. He had never
thought of himself as having a “type” when it came to women, but now, looking
at Kimberly, he thought he might have to rethink that position.
“Trooper Demore,” Kimberly shouted. She waved and
waded over to where he stood. At the other end of the lagoon, the second model
turned around. It was one of those unexpected, awkward, “aw crap” moments. Jim
looked at Linda, and Linda looked back at Jim. Kimberly reached the edge of the
pool and turned to see what had Jim’s attention. She smiled and looked back at
Jim.
“She’s very beautiful and quite exotic. Would you
like me to introduce you?” Kimberly asked.
Jim stared across the lagoon.
This can’t be
good.
“No. You don’t need to introduce us,” Jim
replied. “We already know each other pretty well.”
“Ah,” Kimberly said. Her face told Jim she had
made a connection. “You’re the ‘stupid’ cop boyfriend who never has time for
anything but work?”
Kimberly smiled at Jim, but there was a hint of
something bittersweet in her eyes that was not lost on him. Kimberly was the
girlfriend of a successful and driven executive. Linda was the girlfriend of an
equally hard-driven former Marine and Highway Patrol Trooper. The two women
suffered the same malady. Both were beautiful, men desired both, and both
belonged to the same sad club. The sisterhood of lovely but lonely lovers.
Linda threw her towel onto the pool’s deck and
strolled along the shallow edge of the pool toward him. He felt as if he were
part of some surreal, soap opera-based chess set with only three pieces left on
the board. A pawn and two queens.
There is no way this is going to be good.
Linda stopped a foot away from where he stood.
Close enough for him to smell her preferred tanning lotion, coconut and aloe.
Close enough for the two of them to embrace. They didn’t.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked
with a hint of her Dominican accent. Linda was never one for subtleties.
“I was invited. Besides, I had no idea that you
would be here,” Jim replied.
“I’m sorry,” Kimberly interjected, putting her
hand on Linda’s arm.
“I invited Trooper Demore. I had no idea he was
your cop. Jeff had offered him a job and I thought I would try to help Jeff out
a little.”
“What kind of job?” Linda asked.
“Working for Jeff’s company. In corporate
security.”
Kimberly said it as if it was no big deal.
Linda’s eyes narrowed and a scowl spread across her lips. Jim kept his own
expression calm and dispassionate.
“Corporate security?” Linda asked. “You mean like
a bodyguard? Travelling all over the place?”
“No, not at all,” Kimberly answered quickly, probably
thinking she was helping Jim. “More like routine corporate security, keeping
Jeff’s lab secure. Mostly nine-to-five kind of stuff. Making sure trade secrets
don’t walk out the front door, background checks on employees, stuff like that.
Jeff pays his security staff pretty well and they get great benefits. I just
thought I would try to entice Trooper Demore a little.”
Small muscles in Linda’s face began to twitch.
Her eyes darted around their sockets until they hit full “crazy eyes” mode.
They flashed him unspoken, but clearly understood, death threats.
“So, you turned down a good job with normal hours
and benefits?” Linda’s voice went up an octave. “Really?”
She did not give Jim a chance to reply.
“You stupid bastard,” she said.
Linda reached around and unhooked her bikini top.
“Remember these, Jim?” Linda asked.
She reached down, hooked the side strings of her
bikini bottom with her thumbs and stripped it off. Standing naked in front of
Jim, God, and everyone else at the pool, Linda hissed at him.
“Remember this?” She said as she did a little
pose that accentuated her assets. “I hope so, because all you’re ever going to
do with me again is remember, you stupid bastard.”
She did not wait for an answer. She grabbed the
pieces of her bikini floating in the water next to her, turned her back on Jim,
and strode through the water back to where the photo crew stood with their
mouths hanging open. Her lithe, tanned body moved gracefully through the
shallow water. He wondered for a second why he had stayed with her for so long.
Stupid question, Jim-boy
.
Kimberly cleared her throat. Just loud enough to
regain Jim’s attention.
“I’m so sorry, Trooper Demore.”
Jim shook his head and smiled his own bittersweet
smile.
“It’s Jim, remember?” He continued, “There is no
reason to be sorry. I was married to my job before I met Linda. Nothing much
has changed.”
Kimberly gave him a thoughtful look.
“But, it could, Jim, if you really wanted it to.”