Ever After (12 page)

“A decoy. Who would that be? It would have to be a hot woman that he doesn’t know. A hot woman who’s game to do something like this. She would have to know the plan, and that increases the danger, because the more people who know the plan, the more likely somebody’s going to slip. And then you’ll be in deep shit,” Ryan said.

“Well, let’s see. Remember, we’re just brainstorming here, trying to throw things out. But, I set up Fred, a guy from work, with this stunningly gorgeous woman who seems just the type to want to do something like this. Her name is Melissa. I’ve been friendly with her and Fred since I set them up.”

“Are they still together?” Ryan asked.

“Engaged, actually,” I said. “They got engaged after knowing each other two weeks. Funny, huh? So, she might do it because she feels that I did something for her.”

“She doesn’t necessarily have to know the entire plan,” Ryan said. “Just that we want her to have drinks with this clod, put the drug in his drink, and then carry him out to the limo when he goes unconscious. That would be her only role.”

We both thought about this scenario for a little bit.

Finally, I said “Won’t work. I’ll basically be asking an innocent party to commit a battery. Because that is what it is when you drug somebody like that against their will – a battery.”

I paced around the floor, and then thought of another idea.

“Ryan,” I said. “What if you’re the decoy?”

“What?” he said. “I’m not following you.”

“You know, there’s always the possibility that the bastard swings both ways. And god knows, you can get anybody to do anything at all when you turn on the charm. I find out where he goes for drinks after work, assuming that he’s still keeping his same schedule now that he’s been humiliated on television, and you meet him there and go up to him and offer to buy him a drink. Maybe, at some point, you ask him to ‘go to your place,’ which really would be right here, and then the ambush can commence.”

“Nick, he met me on St. Croix. Remember?”

“Not for very long. He was pretty much focused on me when we barged in, and you were standing out in the yard when he and I had our confrontation. I don’t think that he ever got a really good look at you.”

“Well, what if he remembers me?”

“Then you will know it right away, and you can excuse yourself from the whole situation.”

“And, what if he doesn’t swing both ways?”

“Ryan, you’re one of those guys who can make even straight guys swing both ways. Just like a lot of straight women say that they would never do a woman unless she looks like Angelina Jolie, I’m quite sure that there are men who say basically the same thing. It’s worth a shot.”

Ryan got up and started pacing. “These scenarios are getting more and more far-fetched, you know that?”

“Well, give me some better ideas on how to get him here.”

Ryan paced around some more, then pointed at me excitedly. “I got it. I got it. He doesn’t come here. You go to him. To his apartment.”

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Okay,” he said. “That security team that my father hired…that’s what they do. They’re experts at breaking into homes and bugging them. They can do that while the bastard is working, assuming that he doesn’t have live-in help. Then it’s just a matter of you breaking into his home. I can even get a key made for his home. The same security team will do something like that for me.”

This was sounding pretty good. “Go on,” I said.

But Ryan was on a roll, so I didn’t need to urge him to go on. He was talking a mile a minute. “Okay, so you have a key to his apartment. You have a key, and, you know, that team can hack into the security system for the building and give you the code for the front door of the building, too. Man, they can do it all.”

I stood up, too. This was sounding more and more plausible.

“So, you get into his apartment and you wait for him to come home,” Ryan said excitedly. “You wait, and when he comes home, you hide. You hide, and, at just the right moment, you ambush him and inject him with the truth serum.”

“And then I ask him questions about his involvement with Scotty!”

“Right. Right. You get it recorded, and the video will come here. We can stream it here to this apartment.”

He was pacing, and now, so was I. This was getting exciting.

“Actually,” he said, pulling on his own hair a little. “Actually, I think that you need to stay there. Stay there until the truth serum drug wears off, and that’s when you make your threat. You threaten to stream his confession live on the Internet, and then tell him about the horrors that await him once he’s convicted. You tell him that he’ll be convicted for sure, now that you have his confession, and that he would be a beaten to a pulp behind bars. Especially since he’s a rich asshole. He’ll get treated even worse than a pervert without money.”

I wanted to make sure that this plan was as close to foolproof as possible. “Okay, let’s go through the holes.”

“Of course,” Ryan said.

“One is that the asshole might know his law, and will realize that the video that I have of him probably would never see the light of day in court. For one thing, sodium pentothal confessions will never be allowed. Also, while I’m not sure about the law regarding surreptitious recorded confessions, I’m quite sure that they’re not allowed either. He’ll get the best lawyer to make sure that none of these videos see the light of day.”

“Well,” Ryan said, “You simply tell him that this video of him confessing is going to go viral on the Internet. And you know that it will, if you put it on there. A multi-millionaire financier admitting on video to molesting a child? And raping her years later, while she’s incapacitated with a broken leg? That video will be everywhere. There is no way that a jury wouldn’t convict him, because you know that most of the jury will have some knowledge of this video.”

I nodded my head. “Okay. What if he says that the viral video will make it more likely that he’ll be acquitted, because the jury will be so tainted that there will be no way that he can ever get  a fair trial?”

“You tell him that if OJ could have a fair trial, so can he. Not to mention Casey Anthony.”

“Both of whom were acquitted, but it’s a valid point. They were able to have fair trials, so this video being viral shouldn’t
affect the prosecutor’s decision to try this bastard,” I said. Then I started pacing around again. “This is good, Ryan. This is really good.” My hopes were starting to soar. “And even if he thinks that he’s going to walk, I have the feeling that he might want to kill himself anyhow, just because all of his fancy friends will no doubt see the video, and his life will be ruined. So, that’s an insurance policy.”

“That’s an excellent point,” Ryan said. “Now, let’s do some research on this sodium pentothal to see if it actually works like it says.”

So, Ryan and I got on the Internet and did some research on the drug. We read that the truth serum works in the same way that consuming large amounts of alcohol might work – by depressing the central nervous system and interfering with judgment and higher cognitive function. It was considered to be unreliable enough to not be allowed in court, but that didn’t matter. I only wanted it to be reliable enough to get that bastard talking. The articles we read on the subject also noted that the person under the influence of the drug might also start babbling about other things which were false.

Again, whatever. As long as his mouth started running about what he did to Scotty, any other kind of information that might come out that wasn’t true wasn’t my concern. I could edit the video later to make it look like it was only his confession that was on the recording.

“One last thing,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“Suppose this asshole is a sociopath. A true sociopath, therefore he has zero guilt about what he did to Scotty. If he doesn’t have guilt feelings, does that mean that he’s less liable to spill his guts? The way that I read that this sodium pentothal works, is it is just like consuming copious amounts of alcohol. That makes things come out of your mouth, but it might just be things that are weighing on your sub-conscious mind. What if his terrorizing Scotty doesn’t weigh on his mind?”

“Well, there’s that chance. But I think that this is the best plan we got going. So, let’s move on it.”

∞

Ryan and I spent the rest of the afternoon setting things up. He made calls to five of his former dealers, none of whom actually had the stuff, but one of whom knew somebody who would.

“It’s going to cost you,” Edward, one of his dealers said.

Ryan rolled his eyes. The guy was a fucking billionaire, what did he care how much it cost him? “How much?”

“$10,000, from what I understand.”

“Where do I send the money?”

“Lemme get back with you,” Edward said. “And I want a cut, too. $5,000 finder’s fee.”

“Goes without saying,” Ryan said.

Not five minutes later, Edward called back. “You said you’re in New York?” Edward said.

“Yeah,” Ryan said.

“Meet me at the corner of 35
th
and Park in twenty minutes,” Edward said.

“That was fast,” Ryan said.

“Yeah, well, there’s gonna be a premium because it’s so fast. Another $2,500.”

“Okay. So, I need to bring you $17,500.”

“Make it an even twenty thou,” Edward said. “I like round numbers better.”

“Whatever,” Ryan said. “Give me an hour. I’m in Tribeca, and I need to go to my bank.”

“Okay,” he said. “One hour. And don’t be late.”

“I won’t be.”

“Let me come with you,” I said, as Ryan got his coat and prepared to leave. “I’ll get Charlie to drive us. And, by the way, I’ll get the money out of my bank. Don’t be ridiculous and think that you’re going to pay for this.”

Ryan shrugged. “I would, it’s no big deal.”

“You’re not. Charlie can take us to my bank.” There was no arguing the point, so he didn’t even try.

So, Charlie drove us to my bank, and I gave Ryan the money for Edward, and then Charlie drove us to 35
th
and Park. I inwardly smiled at the knowledge that we were being driven to complete a drug deal. That was a first for me. It wasn’t for Ryan, of course – it was old hat for him. But, for me – I had never done something like this. And never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that I would ever do something like this.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Charlie found a place to park, and Ryan got out of the car. I watched from the window as Ryan approached a rather rough looking fellow with wild curly brown hair and a five o’clock shadow. He was about 5’10” and was wearing faded jeans and an equally faded jean jacket, with high top tennis shoes. He kinda reminded me of Adrian Grenier from the HBO show
Entourage.

Edward looked around, and took Ryan’s money and gave him the drug. Ryan shook Edward’s hand, slapped him on the back, and then got back into the limo.

“Got it,” Ryan said, showing me the bottle that held the drug, and the syringe that would be used to administer it.

The first part of our plan completed, Ryan set out contacting his father’s old security firm.

“Hey,” Ryan said on the phone. “Brad. I have a job for you.” Then he went on to describe what he needed done. He smiled at me and gave me the thumbs up.

“Yes,” Ryan said into the phone. “ASAP. Tomorrow, if possible.” And then he gave the address for Paul’s apartment, which I managed to find out earlier by calling the police station, who had his address on file.

Ryan got off the phone. “Now, as long as he doesn’t have a live-in housekeeper, we’re golden.”

I silently prayed that there was no live-in housekeeper. I wasn’t sure what to do in that case.

“And if there is one?” I asked.

“Then they wait. They stake out the place until it’s completely empty, and then they get in there and work their magic. They can set the entire thing up in less than a half hour. It’s pretty cool how they do it, too.”

I sat back in the limo. There were other things to deal with, of course. Like the partners at work, who might already know about all of the Paul Lucas bullshit. I hoped that they didn’t, and, since nobody had yet called me from the firm, I had to assume that there was no word from the mysterious caller.

Well, if the shit hits the fan at work, I’ll deal with it.

As soon as the monster was dead, I could deal with anything at all.

Chapter 15

Scotty

Dr. Ringold came into my room the day after I had my talk with her. I was sitting on the bed, and I was still in my pajamas. The television was on low, but I wasn’t watching it at all. My food that was brought to me earlier, consisting of gelatinous eggs, orange juice and stale toast, sat untouched on my tray. The food wouldn’t have been appetizing even on the best of days, so, on this day, there was no way that I could eat any of it.

I had never felt so low in all my life.

I had tried to call Nick several times, and he wasn’t answering his phone.

I had never needed Nick more than I did right at that moment, because I was severely depressed and I had attempted to take my own life. And he had turned his back on me.

I knew it. I knew that he would up and disappear from my life.

“Okay, Ms. James,” the doctor said to me. “You need to get dressed so that you can come down for your therapy session.”

“No,” I said. “I just want to stay in bed.”

“That is not an option,” Dr. Ringold said. “You are required to complete three hours of therapy each day. I’ve been waiting in my office for you for the past half hour, and I’m obligated to come up here and retrieve you so that you can start your session with me.”

“NO,” I said. “And you can’t make me.”

At that, Dr. Ringold had a seat next to my bed. “Okay, then, we’ll have our therapy session right here.” Her soft smile was gone, and was replaced by a tight frown. “Now, please tell me what is causing your acute depression this morning.”

“I’m depressed, of course. I mean, I tried to off myself, so, I’m depressed. I think that you know that.”

“I understand that,” she said. “But we had a productive session yesterday. I would like to know what would cause this sudden change in your mood this morning?”

“Because,” I said. “My boyfriend Nick is apparently now my ex-boyfriend.”

I felt so despairing at that moment. The very lowest that I could ever feel. Not only did I face certain career suicide, but I felt like I no longer had Nick to support me. I had the rug pulled out from under me both personally and professionally. I mean, I never had love in my life before, but I always had my career to prop me up. Now I felt totally bereft.

“Tell me about that,” Dr. Ringold said.

“Well, as you can see, he’s nowhere to be found. He’s nowhere to be found, and I’ve been sending him text messages and left him voice messages, and he hasn’t returned any of them. I’ve tried to tell myself all the positive thoughts that you taught me, but it isn’t working. All that I can see is that he abandoned me just when I needed him the most.”

“What do you think would cause him to not want to have contact with you?” she asked.

“I have no idea. No, wait, I do have an idea. He has decided, officially, that I’m a basket case. My suicide attempt was his final straw. Just like my career prospects being taken from me was my final straw, my trying to off myself was his.”

“Is there any other explanation for why he wouldn’t be in contact with you?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

She sat back in her chair, examining me. “What about Jack? You told me yesterday that he was your best friend. How come he isn’t here?”

“I haven’t called him yet, so I would imagine that he doesn’t know that I’m here.”

“And how come you haven’t called him? He’s your support system.”

“I guess because I’ve been sitting here stewing about Nick. I haven’t had the energy to call Jack or anybody else.”

“Okay, now, Scotty, we have to work on making you strong enough survive come what may. That is what we need to work on next.”

“Translation: you don’t think that Nick’s coming back, either. You think that he’s abandoned me too.”

“That is not what I’m trying to say. What I’m trying to say is that you need to learn to have inner strength. That way, whatever happens, you can move forward.”

I crossed my arms in front of me. That shrink could say whatever she wanted, but I knew the truth. She
was
thinking that Nick had abandoned me, too. That was why she suddenly wanted to change the subject from my learning to trust Nick to my learning to stand on my own two feet.

“In the meantime,” she said, “you do need a support system here. So, please give me Jack’s phone number so that he can be here for you during this trying time.”

I looked at her, and blinked my eyes. I handed her my smart phone without a word. “Here. Call him from my phone. His number is under my contacts. I just listed him as Jack.”

She looked at my phone, and apparently found his number, but didn’t call him. “Let me write this phone number down,” she said, as she wrote in her book. “And, with your permission,
I would like to call him to see if he can visit you. It is very important for our patients to have somebody with them during their immediate recovery.”

“I guess so. Since I can’t seem to get ahold of the one person who I want here with me, Jack is the next best thing.” As soon as I said that, though, I felt bad. Jack could never be considered a consolation prize, and it was shitty for me to imply that he was. He had been my closest confidante for years. I had known Nick for about a minute, really, so Jack should have always been foremost in my life. He had shown his loyalty, unlike my ex-boyfriend Nick.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll call him, and encourage him to come and visit you during the visiting hours, if you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind,” I said. “I would actually like that.”

“Good,” she said. “Now, what would you like to discuss today?”

“I guess I want to express how angry I am that Nick could just leave me like this. My life feels like it is spinning off its axis with this revelation that my career is probably over before it has even begun. I have never felt more depressed in my entire life. He certainly has picked a great time to up and leave me.”

Dr. Ringold said nothing, but just kept writing in her pad. “Okay, then, let’s take this to the logical conclusion. If Nick really has abandoned you, what would you envision your life to be like?”

“Shitty. I don’t know how else to express it. I’m going to go back to living with Jack, and I’m going to have to look for a job. And there’s no point in going back to school, because I apparently am going to blackballed out of architecture from
here on out. I guess I’ll go back to bartending. And that will be my life. Bartending and moping on the couch.”

She continued to write in her book. “Now, Scotty, I think that the problem that you having right now is that you are catastrophizing.”

“Catastro what?”

“Catastrophizing. It’s the irrational feeling that something is far worse than what it actually is. You’re imagining the very worst of all of the future possibilities, and you are taking it as an article of faith that this worst-case scenario is what will actually happen.”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t think that you understand. But that’s my fault that you don’t. Now, as you know, because you mentioned it yesterday, I was sexually assaulted, repeatedly, by a very powerful and wealthy man.”

“Yes, I do understand that.”

“He’s a financier. He is a hedge fund manager.”

“Okay,” she said, still not understanding.

“Well, I caused him to be humiliated in front of the entire city. I somehow imagine that he’s going to want to get back at me for that, don’t you?”

Her face registered no sign that she was understanding. She continued to look at me, and write in her book wordlessly.

“Okay,” I said. “He has close professional relationships with many firms. These firms depend upon his capital to survive. His clients are some of the wealthiest in the city. Architectural firms depend upon these same high profile individuals to make contracts with their firms. Are you getting the picture here?”

She nodded her head. “Please tell me what you believe is going to happen.”

“I believe, and I don’t think that this belief is irrational, that Mr. Lucas will tell his clients to pull their contracts out of any architectural firm that hires me. And I think that they will do just what he says, because they depend upon him.”

“I see,” she said. “And, do you think that this dependency goes only one way?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Isn’t he also dependent upon his wealthy clients?”

“Yes, I guess so,” I said. “What’s your point?”

“Do you think that Mr. Lucas would risk losing these clients, which might happen if he starts dictating who they can and cannot make contracts with?”

“I guess. But, no, I don’t think that he cares about that. I think that he’s going to do anything it takes to destroy me. And with his power, money and influence, it won’t be difficult. So, I just don’t think that I’m catastrophizing at all. I think I’m being realistic.”

Dr. Ringold didn’t have a reply to this. I think that she actually conceded the point.

“Is this outcome something that you anticipated when you decided to go to the authorities?”

“No,” I said. “I mean, I knew that I was going to have a hard time ensuring that he went to prison, but I never thought about the angle that my career was going to be destroyed by this.”

“Was going to the authorities worth it to you, then?”

I actually had to think about that. I mean, my life was going to be destroyed. Yet, I didn’t entirely think that what I did wasn’t worth it. Just seeing his pissed off and humiliated face on the news channel made it all worthwhile. In fact, I imagined that the city was still talking about his arrest. The news stations probably still were covering his perp walk. So, in a way, it was
completely worth it. Perhaps I would be shut out of my chosen profession, but I also had a sense of satisfaction in seeing him squirm. A sense of satisfaction to know that people were probably going to be whispering about him and wondering about him every time he walked into a room, from that point on.

“Yes,” I said, realizing that I meant it. “Yes, it was 100% worth it. If I have to live on Ramen noodles and bartend for the rest of my life, instead of designing buildings, it will still be worth it. Because I made him feel some of the pain that he always made me feel. You can’t put a price on that.”

As I looked at Dr. Ringold, I thought that I saw a hint of
that’s the spirit
in her eyes. “Okay, then you don’t have complete regrets for turning Mr. Lucas over to the proper authorities.”

“I guess I don’t. Does it suck that my career path is at least altered? Yeah. I suppose that I
was
catastrophizing before, now that you mention it. I mean, I might not be able to be an architect for a large firm. But I should be able to find a small firm that does mainly small residential homes. Those firms are less likely to have the wealthy and powerful clients that will be influenced by Mr. Lucas. I might even be able to find a job in this city. And, if nothing else, maybe I can get my teaching certificate. I’ll find a path in life, come what may.”

I felt myself calming down. I wasn’t going to be a drama queen and a catastrophizer. I was a survivor, goddammit. I felt my spine steel, and I sat up straighter in my bed. “Would you excuse me?” I said to Dr. Ringold. “I suddenly feel the need to go ahead and get changed into my regular clothes and get out of this room.”

“Of course,” she said. “I will see you in my office, I presume? To finish our therapy session?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll see you in about a half hour.”

She smiled reassuringly, and patted my hand. “Ms. James, you’ll get through this. I can see in your eyes that you’re a fighter. I’ll give you the tools you need to overcome these issues and resume a normal life.”

I nodded, not entirely convinced that Dr. Ringold had the magic formula to make me all better. But I did have to admit that she gave me food for thought, so I felt a little bit optimistic for perhaps the first time since the shit hit the fan.

Now, if only Nick would appear, I felt like I would feel 300% better.

I tried his phone again, and it went straight to his voice mail.

So, with a sigh, I got into the shower, and tried to put aside the catastrophizing thought that Nick was gone for good.