DU: Endgame A-3
Traffic on the 10 is horrible; it’s always horrible, and for the tenth time since leaving Dan at the motel I’m questioning why the hell I can’t just cancel my appointment with Madame Franz. It’s not like I really need to see her today. I can always go back to Avery’s house and frolic in the backyard with Michelle and Lacie (it’s such an incredible sunny day!), or get in a quick roll in the hay with the sexy, gorgeous man of the house (I mean, who wouldn’t?!?!). Instead, I roll past one exit after another—each time convinced that I’m going to use the next one to make a u-turn. After a while, I finally give in to the inevitable. I simply must go to see Madame Franz.
Doo bah dah badoo bah badoo bah… doo bah dah badoo…
“Hang on, hang on!” The bluetooth sucks in this car. I should have borrowed Avery’s Mercedes. “Hold… fuck, hang on!” The speakers come to life with a painful crackle, and I’m connected to the world again. “Hello? This is Cassie.”
“Hello, Cassie.”
“PAUL! So nice to hear from you!” God, I haven’t seen Paul in ages. I wonder what he’s been up to? It feels like forever since I hired him to… to… why did I hire him, anyway? Something about China? Whatever. I’m feeling pretty good about the world again. Thanks, Paul. “How have you been? Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since Avery’s party!”
“I’m fine, Cassie. Are you on your way to Madame Franz’s spa?”
“Ha ha! Am I that obvious? Don’t answer that, Paul. I already know what you’re going to say.”
“Cass, I—”
“Don’t SAY it!” I laugh out loud, loud enough that the cute guy in the convertible next to me looks over and smiles. I smile back. I’m Avery’s girl through and through, but it’s fun to flirt, especially when Frank isn’t around to give me the stink-eye. “Hey Paul, why don’t you come out to Avery’s house this weekend? It’s supposed to be hot and he’s got a great pool.”
“That sounds great.” He doesn’t sound all that enthused. “Give me a call on my new cell number. It’s… wait, are you stuck in traffic?”
I sigh. I’m absolutely going to be late for Madame Franz’s appointment. “Yeah, the fucking 10’s a mess. They’ve got a lane closed for construction. We’re stopped dead.”
“Well good. You can reach me at 765-4321. Remember.”
“Rememmmmmmm…” Everything goes sideways for a moment. It feels oddly familiar, but I can’t place it. I can’t place much of anything at the moment. It’s all I can do to hold onto the steering wheel. Remember. I must Remember. Remember. I must Remember. Re…
“P...Paul?”
“Hi, Cassie. Welcome back.”
We’re moving again, and some yuppie in a Tesla is riding my ass and honking. I shove my way towards the right lane like I own the highway. “I’m in a car,” I tell Paul, even though he must know that. I feel stupid and confused and lost. “Just passed La Brea. I think I was headed to the spa? What should I do?”
“That’s perfect. You’re in a good spot. Meet me in the parking lot of the Ralph’s on Pico as soon as you can. We need to talk.”
“Okay. I’ll see you there.”
I’m about to hang up and check the map when the speakers crackle one more time. “And Cassie?”
“Yes?”
“You’re doing great.”
My father’s name was also Paul. That’s about all we had in common, though. He liked beer; I like the hard stuff. He got married at seventeen; I’m a bachelor with a mother who’s always yelling at me to find a nice girl and settle down. He liked to scam little old ladies out of their retirement checks; I like to put guys like him behind bars. He’s been dead for nine years, and sometimes I even miss the crooked bastard. I like to think that he left me with a good bullshit detector and an eye for misdirection. Put those two together and you’ve got the recipe for a hard-boiled private eye. Throw in a few courses of hypnotism from the local community college and, well, you get me.
So when my friendly, totally platonic business partner of three years suddenly throws herself at me and begs me to fuck her six ways from Sunday, you’d expect my bullshit detector to go off, right? The truth is, it did. And then I did a stupid thing. I hit the snooze button. Those kisses, the sensation of her hot breath against my skin, the softness of her hair... I threw myself into it. Into her.
One of these days, my dick is going to get me killed.
But coming back down the trail that afternoon, holding her hand, keeping an eye out for those goons... things started to not add up. For one thing, no goons. Tara said that she’d just killed Frank DiMaria, Avery’s right-hand man and one of the toughest heavies on the coast. You don’t just get away with a thing like that. Heavies have heavy friends, the kind who shoot first and shoot later. The park should have been swarming with guys out for revenge. When I warned Tara to dump her car in a lot somewhere, to throw Avery’s men off the trail, she blithely agreed before going right back to nuzzling against me. No hysterics, no tears, no signs of that incredibly awful, paralyzing bile that spreads through your body when you commit a violent act. She was acting like a teenager on a date.
Like Cassie.
Still, this was my Tara, right? The sweet, smart, funny, beautiful woman I’d fallen in love with. Cassie was the mindless, brainwashed robot. Tara was safely hidden behind her, and now she was escaping with me. When she reached over and began to give me a hand job right there in the car, I let myself relax a bit. We were safe. We were in love. I’d put her under once we got back to my place, and I’d sort everything out. Maybe do a few other things, too.
Outside of my apartment, we fell into each other’s embrace. Our hands took on a life of their own. I’d like to pretend that I was searching her for weapons, but the truth is, I was trying to feel her up. Hell, I was feeling her up, and she was doing the same. The hard brush of my hand against her purse was purely an accident.
When you’re a private eye, you recognize things like bulging purses. Like the shape of a gun.
We tumbled into my apartment like a manic version of Fred and Ginger, arms and legs and hands touching, rubbing, caressing, then breaking away and reconnecting in a new spot. One of us was smart enough to kick the front door closed. I led her down the short hall to my bedroom, staring into her eyes the entire time, hoping that I could hypnotize her just on that effort alone. My shirt joined her top on the floor, and we spent some time just standing there, exploring each others bodies.
“Hang on,” I finally managed between ragged, hungry breaths. “Condoms... I have to get... hang on.”
She kissed me again and smiled. It felt real. It had to be real. God, how I wanted it to be real! There was a way to find out for certain. “Okay,” she said. Her voice was so soft and submissive.
The bathroom was right next to the bedroom. Off came my shoes, somehow still attached after all of that, and I made a big show of opening cabinets and drawers. I knew exactly which one held my gun. And which one contained the condoms, for that matter. Since it wasn’t obvious where this was all going to lead, I made sure to grab both. The taser would have been the best option—I could have zapped Tara before she knew what hit her—but I’d stupidly left it at the office in the rush to get to the park. Of course I did.
The gun was small enough to hide in my shoe as long as I stacked the other one upside-down on top of it, like a sandwich. With that done, I brought up some cheesy New Age music on my phone—the kind that would make normal Tara roll her eyes and question my manhood. Then I peered into the bedroom, half-expecting to find a pistol shoved in my face. Instead, I got... well, the thing I’d gone to sleep dreaming about a thousand times.
She was kneeling on my bed, slowly removing her underwear. Her beautiful eyes never left mine. Her bra dropped to the sheets. Along with my jaw, I’m sure. “This music is nice, Paul,” she said, kicking out her legs and sliding her panties off with one smooth, incredible motion. “It’s really relaxing.” She patted the bed. “Come closer, lover.”
We met at the edge of the bed. I placed the shoes where I could quickly get at them, and stood back up. One tug and I was down on the sheets, rolling over her, letting her roll on top of me. I turned my head and scanned the edge of the room, looking for that purse. On the nightstand. I tugged her arm—God, she’s got incredibly soft skin—and tried to roll her away from that side of the bed. She ended up rolling against me, and for a moment we looked like an old-fashioned married couple in a romantic comedy. Two lovers, snuggled in the center of a spacious bed. Stark naked and horny as hell.
“I love you, Paul.” She kissed me, gently, like she meant it. “You saved me. You always save me.”
I only had one word to say to that, and I whispered it into her ear. “Technetium.”
She kissed my neck, moving slowly up the side of my face. Her hair tickled my skin. Now it was her turn to whisper into my ear. “That trigger won’t work for you, lover.”
I looked into her eyes. She gave me a knowing smirk, and for a moment, we both lay there motionless on the bed. Then it was all rolling and wrestling and struggling as we went for our respective guns. Tara’s normally not much of a fighter, but this version apparently was. My attempt to corral her with my arms ended with a good kick to my ribs and a few nasty words. Giving up on that, I rolled off the bed and went for the stashed gun. Behind me, she snatched her purse from the nightstand and quickly pulled out the piece I’d flagged earlier.
We met again, or at least our guns did. Paul, meet Tara. Tara, meet Paul. I kept my aim on her, but immediately questioned the value of it. Would Tara even care if I killed her? Would she even realize that she was in danger?
She aimed for my stomach, just as I’m sure that son of a bitch programmed her to do. Give me a nasty, painful death instead of a quick one. Just the thought of his pretty little robot mindlessly stepping over my howling, dying body and walking out the front door probably gave him the biggest boner.
“My Master has a message for you, Paul.” I expected her eyes to be empty and blank, the way that Cassie’s eyes look when I’ve got her under, but instead they were sharp and narrow. Cruel, even. She cracked a cruel smile to go along with it. “Would you like to hear what he has to say?”
“I’ve never been one to say no to you,” I said, trying to stay calm. Avery turned my partner into a stick of old, unstable dynamite, ready to explode at any time. Gorgeous, sexy, naked dynamite. I had to see this through, or die trying.
She took a few steps towards me, hips swaying, gun still trained on my gut. “I guess three years counts for something,” she admitted. Her cold eyes softened just a bit. Just enough.
“It counts for a lot, Tara.” Now my stare was as narrow and cold as hers. “Three years... why kill me?”
She took a more determined aim. “Because I want to, Paul. I will obey my Master without question. It’ll all be over in one... in one... one...” She tried to blink away her sudden confusion. “In one...“
I snapped my fingers. “Zero.”
The gun sank as her eyes rolled into her head. I was by her side in an instant, grabbing the gun with one hand and holding her steady with the other. I sat her down on the edge of the bed as she moaned softly. As for the gun, I engaged the safety and kicked it under the bed. God knows how much other stuff is crammed under there. I’m a messy person.
“My voice will always relax you,” I said, slipping into my hypnotist voice. “This music will always relax you. It’s time to remember, Tara. Beyond your mind, beyond your memory, into that deep, deep corner. Remember. Relax. Remember.”
I kissed her. I couldn’t help it. She was safe again, for now. Maybe. “Deeper and deeper. So deep, Tara. Relax. Remember. It’s finally time to remember. Go to the deepest, darkest corner of your mind. Remember.”
“Remem...ber...”
I held my breath. I had one shot at this.