Mommy, May I? (14 page)

He’d attended cosmetology school to further learn the art of makeup application and was currently working in the entertainment industry. He loved women’s lips, and Bridgett Core had beautiful ones, absolutely lovely. She was nineteen, and they’d met on a film set only a week before.

“My friend Patty says you do great makeup,” said the platinum blonde, blue-eyed, perfectly proportioned girl. She definitely had that Pamela Anderson thing going on.

“Really?” Richard liked her looks and the compliment. Maybe Bridgett was the one. When he met the right girl, he knew his bad desires would die. Mommy told him so.

“Well, I’m kinda new, starting out in the biz, and I need a portfolio. Do you think I could convince you to do my makeup?” She tilted her head, hand on one hip, and with those pouty lips, it all got to him.

Richard glanced over at the three other young women seated at a table drinking cheap champagne and swallowing different colored pills—probably ecstasy. They were waiting to film “Lesbo Love,” wearing nothing but their thong panties. Richard had gotten the gig doing makeup for porn stars from an ad on the bulletin board at the beauty school. It didn’t pay well, but the money wasn’t what he cared about.

Being with women sexually proved difficult for him, but watching sex acts in person enabled him to go home and satisfy himself with fantasies from the day’s filming. If he could find someone like his mother, he was certain he could overcome his problems.

“Okay. When did you want to do this?” he asked, noticing the large areolae around her pointy nipples.

“I’ve got a photographer lined up for next Tuesday. He’s supposed to be super good. Do you think you could do it? I couldn’t pay much. I’ll get a little money from this gig, but you know how money goes.”

“That’s okay.” Richard felt perspiration trickling down the back of his neck. He hoped she wouldn’t notice how nervous he was. Man, she was gorgeous. Maybe she was the one who could save him. Maybe Mommy would like her. In many ways they were exactly alike—Bridgett and Mom.

“Hey, I was thinking that we could do a practice run this weekend, you know, try different colors. See what we like?” She winked at him.

Was she coming on to him? “That would be good.”

“Say Saturday night? Why don’t you come to my place?”

“Sure. I think I can manage that.” He couldn’t believe it.

She jotted her number and address on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “I’m looking forward to it, Rich.”

“Me too.” With this crowd, he thought, “Rich” sounded cooler than Richard. He’d had a thing about names ever since Aunt Bitch had made a point of calling him Ricky like some goddamned TV sitcom Mexican dude. He certainly didn’t love Lucy.

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough. He’d been thoroughly aroused several times thinking of Bridgett. Maybe he’d be able to overcome this time. On Friday night, he couldn’t wait, thinking maybe they could get together a day earlier. He was sure that Mommy would like this one, so he decided to drive by her place. If she was there, he’d say he was in the area and thought tonight might work out if she wasn’t busy.

As he passed by her apartment building, he saw her walking to a nearby car with another man, a
Baywatch
looking
kind of guy. He watched as the Hasselhoff character grabbed Bridgett by the crotch. She laughed. Something twisted inside Richard. He looked away. He was sure she’d been coming on to him the other day.
Is this how she is with all men?
He knew it should come as no surprise. She was, after all, a porn princess. But he’d fantasized all week that maybe she really did like him and that her nasty job wasn’t what she was truly all about. Maybe it was all just a means to an end for her, being as young as she was. Richard had decided she probably didn’t enjoy what she did at all. But now, watching her with this guy, he could see she
liked
being a whore.

Richard couldn’t take it. He squeezed the steering wheel of his silver bullet Porsche, pressed hard on the gas, and sped away. Bridgett was another manipulative bitch, just like his aunt; but Bridgett was worse because she was beautiful, knew it, and used it. Tomorrow night he would set the score straight. Bridgett would get exactly what she deserved for her betrayal, for all the betrayals he’d ever suffered. He knew Mommy would approve of that.

****

He arrived at Bridgett’s apartment Saturday night by seven as they’d agreed.

She opened the door. “Hey, hi! Come on in.”

Richard looked her up and down. She wore leather hot pants and a white crop top, emphasizing her huge breast implants.

“Want something to drink?”

“Gin and tonic, please.” He looked around her small place, plastered with posters of her favorite models, Van Halen, Led Zeppelin, and the two movies she’d “acted” in. He sat on what looked like a thrift store sofa.

“Here you go. It’s not Bombay or anything. Like I said, I have a hard time making the cash thing work. Hope it tastes okay.”

She sat next to him. On the coffee table were a few lines of cocaine she’d already prepared. She leaned over and snorted up. “Want some?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“No thanks.” Richard said, repulsed. He’d seen plenty of drugs smoked, swallowed, and even injected in his day, but refused to take part in any of it. He liked his drink. A few gin and tonics a night and he felt perfect. He also liked an occasional glass of champagne on special nights. On this particular night, he’d bought a bottle of Dom Perignon.

“I know it’s kind of shitty to do. But I’m always so tired, and a little pick-me-up never hurt.”

“Right.” Richard was careful to remember everything he touched, so he could wipe off his fingerprints.

“Wow, hey I just noticed.” She perked up. “I’m like such a dope. It looks so good—your hair, I mean. Like totally good. You look like that Brandon guy on
90210
, you know. What’s his name? Not Luke Perry, but the other dude.” Richard shrugged. “Anyway, I never pictured you with dark hair. Cool.”

“Thanks. I kind of did it on a whim, I guess.” It had been part of his plan. If anyone saw them together, they would remember him with dark hair rather than his normal dirty blonde, which he would return to by the next morning. He’d even driven the van tonight. He only brought it out for these occasions; otherwise, it stayed inside his cabin’s garage.

“Like I said, it’s totally cool. That’s great that you’re so free like that. So many guys would think that dyeing your hair was like gay or something.”

“I’m not gay,” Richard said. His head pounded from her incessant chatter. Blah, blah, blah. Now that he’d witnessed her tramping around, she was no longer his vision of beauty. Her lips were still nice. He stared at them.

“No, I never thought you were. But some of the others, you know, at work. ‘Cause like you’re in your thirties and not married and stuff.” She paused, taking a sip from the Chablis she’d poured for herself. “They’re just stupid.”

Richard nodded. “Did you tell anyone that I was coming by tonight?”

Bridgett sheepishly shook her head, “No, I’m sorry. I know that probably would’ve stopped any rumors about you—I mean you with me for a night—but, Rich, I hate to say it but some of them think you’re kinda . . .”

“Strange?”

She looked away. “Not me. I kinda like it that you’re different. I think you’re totally cool, like I said. And your makeup jobs are so awesome. You do such a kick ass job on some of those chicks. I know how skanky some of ‘em look, but when you’re done with them, wow! But I didn’t tell anyone my plans tonight. Too strange, I guess—me and the makeup guy they all think is a fag,” she laughed. “Oops, sorry, didn’t mean it. That’s some strong stuff,” she said, pointing to the line of powder left on the table. “Sure you don’t want some?”

“Totally,” he mocked. He was pleased at how much easier it would all be since she hadn’t told anyone. He was also thinking of all his tubes of lipstick that he’d collected over the years for evenings like this. He would choose the perfect color for the perfect moment. A pearly gloss came to mind, painted on a woman who should’ve portrayed an innocent, not a tart.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I apologize if I did.”

“No, you didn’t.” He downed the gin, burning the back of his throat as it sailed to the pit of his stomach. He had to get her out of the apartment. He couldn’t accomplish what he needed to here. It was time for him to turn on the charm. “You didn’t offend me at all. You sure look beautiful tonight. Did I tell you that?”

“No.” She blushed. “You’re sweet.”

“Listen, I was thinking about the makeup, and you know, before we do that, why don’t I take you out? Some place nice?”

“Really?”

Unlike the other day when his nerves were a mess, he had transitioned into a secure zone where nothing could touch him and certainly never conquer him. It was Richard’s world, a good place to be.

“Get your coat.”

“Should I change?”

“You look great. In fact, you look perfect.”

As they got into the van, Richard said. “Oh, damn. I left my jacket up there.”

“No problem. I’ll get it.”

“That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me. You stay right here. Give me the key, and I’ll be right back. Why don’t you look through the cassettes in the case there, see if there’s something you like. I’ll only be a sec.”

“Sure, okay.” She nodded and handed him her key.

Richard ran back up to the apartment, took out a cloth from his coat, and wiped anything and everything he’d touched. Once done, he locked the place back up and wiped the handle of the front door clean. He ran back down.

“Sorry it took me so long. I called the restaurant to make sure we could get in.”

“No problem. I put in your Pearl Jam tape. They’re pretty cool. So where are we going?”

“Oh, a little place I know up the coast.”

“Super.”

They drove up the Pacific Coast Highway. Richard’s head pounded as he tried to ignore Bridgett’s singing along with Eddie Vedder. He had to think, needed some peace. He felt the hypodermic inside his pocket. He would wait until the next light and do it quickly. They came around the bend passing Pepperdine University. The light turned yellow. Richard slowed down. His heart raced, sweat formed on his brow. He squeezed the needle, and carefully removed the cap. Bridgett was looking up at the college.

“It’s sure pretty. I wish I could’ve gone to school.” She continued to stare out the window. The light turned red.

He stuck the needle in her arm and squeezed the tranquilizer into her.

She squealed. “What the . . .”

Richard floored the accelerator, timing the light, knowing that she might try to escape when she realized what he’d done. The drug would take a few minutes to work.

“What was that, Rich? What are you doing? Why are you driving so fast? That hurt. Why did you hurt me? I don’t like needles. I’m not into that junk.” She slurred her words. “You’re supposed to ask, and besides it’s not like you got me in the vein. Man, I don’t like this. I would’ve tried other shit if you wanted to, but man you’re supposed to ask. I don’t like this . . .” Her words were getting harder to understand. “I want to go ho . . .” She slumped over.

“Yes, sweetie, I know you want to go, and go you will, for a very nice ride.” He reached across her seat and leaned it all the way back. Even though it was dark, he didn’t want anyone seeing her. He placed his jacket across her and continued up the coast to his palace—the castle of his dreams and horrors, where only he was king. His collection was now beginning, and what a fine a collection it would be.

As he pulled onto the long dirt road that led to the thick woods where the cabin stood, Richard’s nerves came alive, knowing how clever he was, feeling how superior he was. There was no other like him—nor would there ever be.

He stepped out of the car, breathing in the fresh, crisp air. Oh, happy, happy day. Mommy would be pleased tonight. He looked over at Bridgett, still out of it, and grabbed his jacket. Before escorting her inside, Richard walked around the cabin making certain that nothing had been disturbed since his last visit. Then, like a child on Christmas morning, he unlocked the door and entered.

Ahh. He could breathe again. The outside world was so stifling, but here he could live and breathe and be himself.

He flipped on the light and rubbed his hand across the back of the scarlet antique sofa—so very Goth—exactly how he loved it. Everything in the cabin was classy—rich brocade fabrics and damask silks. Mommy would’ve approved. Too bad she couldn’t see all this, but Richard knew there would be another like her. Soon he would find that perfect girl, and she would live here with him.

The lemon oil he’d used to rub down all the wooden pieces reminded him of home. Cleanliness was next to Godliness, and Richard was very tidy. His guests would feel more comfortable in a clean home.

He went into his bedroom where an elegant four-poster bed stood encased in gold velvet drapes. He moved an Oriental rug in the center of the floor and unlocked a door beneath the rug. He danced down the stairs whistling show tunes as he entered the embalming station. But his prize waited for him back in the van. How foolish he was being. He ran back up the stairs and out the front where, thankfully, Bridgett lay still passed out. He picked her up and carried Bridgett into his domain, where she would be eternalized.