Paradise - Part Four (The Erotic Adventures of Sophia Durant) (3 page)

She bit her lower lip.

“Ah. I see. You want to smoke some weed.”

“Yes.”

“I can get some for us.”

“Really? That would be divine.”

Interesting word use, I thought.

“Yeah, we’d have to go smoke it in my room. But it’s not a problem.”

“That’d be so cool.”

My room was a bit of a mess with clothes strewn about, and I tidied what little I could when we walked in.

“Don’t worry about it. This is a very well kept room. You should see mine.”

“Thank you. But I’m sure yours is perfect.”

“Hardly. Mine always looks like a hurricane just hit, and makes you fear that another one could hit at any moment.”

I laughed. She had something of a sense of humor, which made her more human and my course of action a little harder to undertake.

I took out a few buds from my drawer.

“This is called AK-47. It’ll put you in orbit.”

“Beautiful.”

“This is cool.” I intoned a friendliness I didn’t feel.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m smoking with a model. Next time I see you on a billboard I can say, ‘I smoked with her.’”

She laughed. I contemplated excusing myself to the bathroom and soaking the grass in the p-210. Obviously that wouldn’t work; I would have to share the joint with her or it would be too conspicuous. I’m sure she would go to the bathroom and I could slip it in her wine then or put it in my glass and offer that to her when she finished hers. I marveled at the fact that my target was actually in my room and how much easier that made it to complete my objective. I would still need luck, but my chances were much greater with her in the lion’s den.

I lit up the joint, took two long hits and passed it to her.

“Thank you. You just made my day.”

“Glad I can be of service to you.”

She blazed two long hits and held it out for me as she coughed.

“Keep it. I’ll roll another one.”

I started to roll it when she asked, “Is there a bathroom nearby?”

Like clockwork.

“That door right over there.”

She took a long gulp of wine, nearly emptying her glass. Fuck. She stood up and walked to the bathroom.

Without hesitation, I removed the vial from my pocket. I unscrewed the cap and dump the whole of the contents into my own wine glass, which I’d set on the bedside table. Then I threw the vial in a thick garbage bag in one of my closets, along with both sets of gloves I was wearing. My hands were moist with sweat. I wiped my brow, which I noticed was also covered in sweat. I felt faint.

I heard the toilet flush. Ava exited the bathroom and I went in. Looking in the mirror, I saw a ghost of a figure. I looked pale and gaunt, as though a good bit of life force had left me. Ironic, I thought. I washed my hands and went back out into the room.

“I need to get some more wine. Want to go get some with me?”

“Drink mine. I’ll roll another joint.”

“I’d feel guilty if I drank yours. I can just wait.”

“No. By all means, have some. I’m more into smoking, anyway. I’ll get some more when we go back out.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Of course. Drink and be merry.”
And be dead, bitch
.

“Thank you.”

I watched with morbid glee as she reached for the glass. She must have been tipsy already because she stumbled, knocking the glass to the floor. The wine containing the p-210 spread in pool as the glass bounced on the floor.

“I’m so sorry. Thank God it didn’t break.”

I could feel my blood pressure rise through the roof. No fucking way, I thought.

“Do you have a towel? I’ll clean it up as best I can.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up.”

I reassured her, but inwardly I was anything but reassured. Now I had a radioactive puddle on the floor of my bedroom. How was I going to deal with that? I had never considered the possibility, and I felt stupid. The second vial was in a box in the closet where I’d disposed of the gloves and the first vial.

“I’ve got some more weed in the closet. Let me get it. I think it’s better than the stuff we already smoked.”

“That was some good shit. I’m buzzing like a motherfucker.”

“That’s good.”

With the door cracked I put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. I removed the dress gloves from the garbage bag and slipped those on over the rubber gloves. I entered the combination, unlocking the small box containing the other vial, and pocketed it.

“I’m feeling so…tore up…I don’t know if I can even find…the wine…table…” she said when I got out of the closet.

“Would you like some water?” I offered.

Why didn’t I think of that before?

“Oh, no. That would bring me down…off the clouds…cloud nine…if I had some…”

She stared at me, lost in broken thought.

“You sure? I have good spring water in the bathroom. I can fetch you some.”

“No, no, no, no, no…no. I don’t want it…Just get me back…out there…I’ll find…another…drink…”

I was afraid she would pass out in the room.

“Good idea,” I said, helping her up and to the door.

“What about the…the wine…I spilled?”

“I’ll get that later.”

Not too much later though. I don’t want the fucking radiation to spread
. The situation was too ridiculous. I may even be killed because of my stupidity. The prevailing thought then was—
Holy shit, how can I kill this cow
? I just wanted to get it over with.

Somewhat miraculously, we made it back to the wine table. On the way there I had inserted the vial into the inside wrist part of my glove, with the screw cap barely sticking out. I had pulled the wrist of the rubber glove all the way to the end of my dress glove so that no part of the vial touched bare skin. It was enough of a serious health risk without the vial making contact with my skin. I wondered if the Russian spies who killed Litvinenko had faced such problems with administering the poison. Probably not. They probably just planted someone in the kitchen staff of one of his favorite hangouts. The spy prepared the tea in private and made sure it was served up to him. I wondered how many, if any, had died or were made terribly ill as a byproduct of the mission. What a fucked up thing to do. Then I thought about my own situation. If I was ever driven to do something like this again, I would not use p-210. What a fucking mess.

We each took a glass of Pinot Noir from the table, walked to a table under a canopy and sat down in a corner.

“It’s awesome I met you. You’re an amazing woman,” she said, slurring her speech as she looked at me.

“You’re just feeling the AK.”

“I’m feeling the AK up. I want to fuck it, I think it’s so fucking hot.”

“We can always have more.”

“Can we? I look forward to it. I’m supposed to meet Mark. It’s dark now. I was supposed to meet him a long time ago. I wonder what happened to that. Oh well, it was in the cards to meet you instead. And I couldn’t have done better.”

“Thank you. I like you too.”

I said it to placate her more than for any other reason.

“I need to visit the bathroom again. I’ll be back.”

Finally, my chance. After all this fucking mess. Finally. She got up and I turned into the corner I was sitting in and hunched down with my glass of wine. I poured the contents from the vial, without removing it from my glove, into the glass. After I set the glass on the table, I screwed the cap back onto the vial and pocketed it. Looking around in the candlelight—there were candles mounted in seashells burning throughout the canopy—I thought I saw just a flicker of the image of Emma Green in the shadows. It shocked me to see her, and I shuddered. Even if I was imagining things, the image still terrified me. And it gave me an ominous, portentous feeling, as though her presence was a foreshadowing of terrible events to come. As if she was saying, “Revenge will be mine.” I tried to calm myself, thinking it all just the effects of the grass. It felt like I waited ages for Ava to come back. Eventually I saw her in the garden talking to some men. She saw me and waved.

“God, that was a mess. I had to talk to twenty people just to get back over here. And look, I don’t even know what I did with my drink.”

“Take mine.”

“No. I might spill it.”

“Really. I don’t want it. I’m just waiting to go smoke again.”

“You sure you don’t want it?”

As she said it a woman in the crowd picked up the glass off the table and took a sip before I could stop her. It was most certainly lethal, even in one small sip. I cringed. I wanted to cry.

“I’m so sorry. Is that your wine? I thought I just put mine down, then I realized I must have done so over there somewhere.”

The woman who just took a sip of the contaminated wine pointed.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll get you another.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t going to drink it anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Definitely. Besides, if I was going to, I wouldn’t mind. It’s not like you’re going to make me sick.”

I said this suppressing an evil grin. I wasn’t even sure why I wanted to grin, I just knew that I did.

She laughed and stumbled off into the crowd.

“Stupid whore,” said Ava in a low voice as she took the glass.

I watched her in what felt like slow motion. All background sound drowned out and I felt as though the whole world was comprised of only Ava, the glass, and what was in it. I could feel my heart beating in my throat. I felt sick. Ava pressed the rim of the glass to her lips. Tipping it up, she poured the whole contents of the glass down her throat. I watched her throat vibrate as she swallowed. I felt confused and terrified. Over the course of the evening I had started to like her and I felt for her. She would get sick and not know what happened. And that woman who took a sip from the glass would also get sick, go to the hospital and die. In all likelihood, nobody would ever know the cause. P-210 was something that was rarely tested for after a person’s death. It took a special kind of test to determine its presence, and I was confident that neither of these women would be given that test after they died.

Ava smiled at me.

“Would you like to go smoke again? I’m sorry to ask, but I’m just craving it so much. My previous high has come down a notch.”

“By all means.”

It was the least I could do for her considering what she was about to go through on account of me.

Sophia Durant’s Diary

October 17, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

I picked up Julie from North Eleuthera Airport on the morning of the sixteenth. She walked into the lounge wearing a backpack I recognized from our school days. We hugged and kissed and held hands. I got goosebumps from the excitement I felt at seeing her and touching her. She looked around.

“I can’t even get a coffee in this shack of a place? They call this an airport?”

“This is a tiny island, Julie. There’s not a whole lot here.”

“Tell me you have a town with shops; I only packed an overnight bag with maybe two changes of clothes.”

“Yes. There is a town called Governor’s Harbour where you can purchase whatever you like. First, we’ll go to the villa, drop off your gear and we can have coffee there.”

“Lovely. I can’t wait to see it all. Weather here’s amazing.”

“Wait till you see more of the island.”

“It looked amazing from the sky coming in. Like a very long finger or a snake or something like that.”

“It’s paradise.”

“Will I see the world famous beaches with the pink sand?”

“Of course. A trip to Eleuthera could not go without.”

Seeing her and speaking to her now calmed my nerves and relaxed me after the recent tense days I’d been having. I had not tracked Ava’s calls at all or her whereabouts; I was trying so hard to put that whole episode out of my mind.

The palm trees passed in a blur as we traversed Public Highway under a deep blue canopy of clear sky.

“This is a sweet ride. Stafford’s?”

“No. Mine actually.”

“No way!”

She was genuinely astonished.

“A gift when I got back.”

“No fucking way. He’s in love with you.”

“Not necessarily. It could just be about the sex.”

“How does he act around you?”

“He’s a hard man to read. He’s employed me to do some email/phone hacking for him. I don’t know what that might tell you.”

“Interesting.”

“He’s recently had another girlfriend. But that was only very brief and now she’s…sick. So we’ll see what happens with that.”

“Sick how?”

“I don’t know.” I lied. “She’s just very weak. Hospitalized, I think. Some kind of bug, I suspect.”

I was telling what I assumed to be happening since I had no real information to back this up with.