Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy (25 page)

“Guess what? I did it. I really fucking did
it.”

“What do you mean, you did it? Is this a good
did it, or a bad did it?”

“I finally bought the big white yacht I've
been telling you about wanting. Let’s go for a boat ride tomorrow,
O.K.? It’ll be just me and you and the boat out on Lake
Michigan.”

“O.K. What time?”

“Tomorrow morning at nine. It’s being
delivered today to the Illinois Yacht Club up near Zion. The boat
dealer arranged for a one year membership with the sale and gave me
three driving lessons already. See ya in the morning. Ha! Why don’t
you drive over here and pick me up so we can talk while we ride
there together. Come by at eight. Damn it kid, you aren’t gonna
believe this beautiful fucking boat.”

“Does it have a name yet?”

“Sure it’s got a name. I christened her “Chi
Lady. You know, C-H-I like in Chicago Lady”

“O.K. Tony, I’ll see you in the morning at
eight.”

The next morning Tony was standing outside on
the porch waiting when Clay drove up the driveway. Once inside the
car Tony babbled on and on about the new boat. Clay had never seen
him like this. He was like a kid on Christmas who just opened the
biggest, reddest, greatest fire engine in the world.

“This boat is the Cadillac of boats Clay.
It’s got twin diesel engines; and wait till you see the Grand
Saloon. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s called a salon, but to me it sounds
better if it’s called something I can relate to. I’m from saloon
people not the salon crowd."

As they approached the yacht club parking
area Tony directed him to drive to the far end of the parking lot
to a gate where an attendant was on duty, wearing cute little white
shorts and a jaunty sailor’s cap. Tony flashed a pass at her and
she smiled widely at both of them as she raised a gate arm to let
them pass. Following the directions he was given, Clay drove down a
pier with the biggest yachts he had ever seen on both sides of him.
“Tony, these aren’t boats, these are God damn ships!!! Some of
those must be a hundred feet long!”

“Well, mine isn’t as big as some of these,
but it’s the best looking. Look! There it is. Over there, on the
left.”

Tony was right. It wasn’t the biggest but it
was the best looking, hands down. Not that it was small either.
“How big is it, fifty feet?”

“Sixty three feet; isn’t she the sleekest
thing you’ve ever seen? Hurry up and park over there in one of
those spaces reserved for slip fifty one.”

Standing on the dock at the stern of the ship
Clay couldn’t help but exclaim, “Damn Tony, you’re right, you
really did it. Congratulations Skipper."

During the six hour ride, Clay learned he was
the first person to know about Tony’s new boat, Anna hadn’t even
heard the news yet. Tony had ordered a gross of specially designed
caps, and handed one to Clay as he put his on. The caps were very
nautical looking; navy blue with gold embroidered anchors and
roping on the bills. Chi-Lady was stitched in the center of the cap
in gold outlined in red.

By the time they berthed the boat back in
slip fifty one, the men had discussed intimate details of their
lives never before spoken of to anyone else. Clay hadn’t even told
Jimmy some of the things he shared with Tony. A strong bond had
formed and a secure sense of trust was shared by each of them. Clay
felt it appropriate for his deceased best friend’s father to evolve
into being his best friend also. When they parted after dinner,
they had made plans to attend a baseball game together the
following Tuesday afternoon.

O
n a Saturday
afternoon in October Clay went home after attending an antique
show. As he passed by the garage he noted his parent’s car was
gone. Inside the kitchen he checked out the fridge for a snack.
Grabbing a cold piece of polish sausage from one container and a
cold pancake left from the morning’s breakfast, he made a sandwich
to go with the beer he stuck under his elbow. Walking by the T.V.
he switched it on, changed the channel from 5 to 2 and started to
sit down. While the set was warming up he thought he heard a sound
like crying or sobbing. After quickly flipping the T.V. off before
the sound came up, he eased down the hallway leading to the
bedrooms. The door to Lizzy’s room was about two inches from being
closed and he strained to listen to a conversation she was having
with someone, apparently on the phone.

“Johnny, you’re a lying bastard.”

“Damn it Johnny, you and those two friends of
yours raped me!”

“Yes you did. You set me up. You put
something in my drink, because I don’t remember much afterward. But
I do remember you unbuttoning my blouse and playing with my tits in
front of them, and I vaguely remember you holding me down while
Greg fucked me on the couch. Damn it Johnny that’s rape! I’ve got
bruises all over. What the hell did you bastards do to me?”

“Oh No! Stop it, you weren’t drunk and
neither was I."

“No, Johnny, I did not ASK for it, or enjoy
it.”

Then there was silence while she apparently
listened to Johnny, followed by more crying and sobbing.

“Stop doing this to me! Why couldn’t we just
make love like we used to? I love being with you except for when
you start this kinky crap. No! Yes, I want you to leave me alone.
Listen to me; I’m not going along with what you did to me last
night. I won’t be a gang bang for you and your filthy friends.”

“Then get somebody else to do the sick crap
you want, and don’t ever call me again, you perverted son of a
bitch.”

He heard the receiver drop on the phone set
and heard more crying and sobbing.

Moving down the hallway and back to the
living room, he switched the T.V. back on, sat down, opened the
beer and started eating the sandwich. After the sound came up, he
heard the door to the bathroom at the end of the hall being closed.
What the hell kind of trash had his sister gotten involved with
now?

Thinking of the one sided conversation he had
just heard caused him to feel pity, along with a sense of
protectiveness for his sister. But at the same time, he knew she
was one of those emotionally weak people who are taken advantage of
by scum like her “Johnny”. She should have been able to see what
kind of person he was before getting suckered into a situation like
last night.

Listening to the phone conversation had
aroused feelings of anger and hatred for a man who would drug and
then gang rape someone he strung along as his girlfriend. The
bastard doesn’t deserve to live, he caught himself thinking. Get
those thoughts out of your mind, he quickly told himself. I can’t
go around killing every jerk I take a dislike for. If Lizzy is
strong enough to stay away from the bastard it will be over.

Lizzy walked through the living room on her
way to the kitchen and spoke a muted “Hi Clay” as she passed.

“I heard crying a few minutes ago, is
something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I just broke up with my
jerk of a boyfriend. So nothing new is it?"

“It’s what dating is all about Sis; finding
the right person for you. Hang in there, you’ll find the right guy.
Just be careful; there’s some real trash out there waiting to take
advantage of a beautiful girl like you.”

“Yeah, tell me about it, those are all I ever
find.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re looking in the
wrong places and keep finding the same wrong types. Find a guy like
Tom or Walter, move to the suburbs and start a family.”

“Thanks, big brother, but I’m not ready to
spend the rest of my life with some nerd and a bunch of whining
babies.”

Lizzy went to the kitchen, got a Coke and
returned, heading toward her room. On the way past Clay, she
stopped by his chair, leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks for listening and caring, big brother.”

“Lizzy, I do care. But I can’t solve your
boyfriend problems. You have to make better choices up front. Maybe
you should back off from the type of men you’re seeing and start
finding someone more like yourself.”

“Yeah, maybe I should, and maybe someday I
will. I’ve got to learn who I am and what I am, and maybe then I’ll
do something different. But I will promise you, I’ll at least think
about what you’ve said.”

He had finished eating, but couldn’t get
interested in the golf match being televised. Lizzy’s last
statements had carried a hidden message he was certain. Maybe a
shrink could make sense of it, but he couldn’t. As a big brother he
felt he should do something about this Johnny character and his low
life friends. But what?.

Clay thought the episode with Lizzy and
Johnny was over, until he went to get the mail late Tuesday
morning. In with the usual letters, bills and advertisements was a
business size envelope addressed by hand to Lizzy, without a return
address. Whatever was inside was thick and had required extra
postage.

After laying the family mail on the
countertop just inside the kitchen, he took his mail and the letter
addressed to Lizzy to his room. Inside the envelope he found a
packet of color photographs wrapped in a piece of lined tablet
paper with a rubber band around them. The pictures were of three
men having sex with Lizzy. In several of them it was hard to see
her face because there was a man’s naked torso in front of it. In
several other shots she was made up in leather harness’s and
leather restraints with the men all over her. Her facial expression
wasn’t of pleasure or distress, but rather of numbness. Throwing
the pictures aside he read the note.

“Lizzy, we’re having another party at my
place Saturday night and you had better be there. You belong to me.
If you don’t show up, these pictures and more like them will be
sold to a magazine and copies will be delivered to your mom and
dad. See you Saturday, or suffer the consequences.”

By the time Clay finished reading the short
note his blood pressure was soaring; he had developed a feeling of
rage never experienced before. So, these dumb bastards won’t take
no for an answer, he muttered under his breath. And according to
the note, he had until Saturday night to put a stop to this mess.
Those pictures would be enough to break his Mom’s heart; if it
didn’t give her a heart attack on the spot.

If he would talk to Lizzy and get their
addresses he could go talk to them and put a stop to their games.
To go that route he would need to confront Lizzy with the pictures
and embarrass her. And if this Johnny lies and sells even part of
the pictures to a magazine like he threatened, someone could
recognize Lizzy and it could get back to Mom and Dad. I’ve only got
until Saturday to resolve this mess so I had better get it right
the first time. I’ll handle Johnny in a way I know will finish
it.

Lizzy was at school or at work and his mother
had gone shopping. Upstairs in Lizzy’s room Clay opened drawers
until he found one with several bundles of pictures with rubber
bands around them. Some loose pictures on the top were of Lizzy and
a man in his late twenties or early thirties. The man was handsome
in a rough, roguish way, with a sort of self assured sneer in his
facial expression. Several of the pictures were taken at a park,
and in one of them they were leaning against the trunk of a new red
Cadillac Eldorado with dealer plates on it. Several other shots
were of Johnny and two other men throwing Frisbees; the same two
men in the porno pictures.

Clay spent the next hour thinking about an
initial course of action, then left the house and drove to the
Twelfth Street Saloon.

After grabbing a beer from Mickey, Clay
approached Tony. He was standing by the open front door. The
temperature had been in the seventies around two in the afternoon,
but was beginning to cool down with evening approaching.

As they exchanged greetings Tony said “I was
just debating whether to call you now or later tonight. Let’s step
outside for a minute”.

Moving away from the entrance, but still on
Twelfth Street Tony said, “I’ve got a cop on my payroll who says
another cop, who I’m also paying, has been the target of an
investigation and is going to spill his guts to internal affairs.
They’ve pulled him off patrol and put him on a desk where they can
watch him and lean on him daily. I need the bastard hit, and fast.
Will you do it?”

“You know I will; and don’t try to pay me.
But, I came to see you for an important favor too. I need
information on a guy. All I know about him is his first name, the
make of car he drives and the license number of the dealer tags.
Will you have your police contact get me the info? I’ll pay what
ever he charges.”

“Yeah, I can do it, but you won’t pay shit.
Must be pretty important, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s important. Some guys set my
sister up and have some very embarrassing pictures they’re
blackmailing her with. I need to make the problem go away before
this weekend.”

“Give me the mother fucker’s license number
and I’ll have a name and address to go with it in the morning. My
good cop can get the dealers name and who the car is assigned
too.”

“I never thought something like this would
happen, I mean a situation in my personal life where I’d have to
kill someone. But here it is. I know mixing business and personal
problems isn’t supposed to be done, but this thing needs to be
resolved.”

“I never look at it in those terms. A problem
is a problem. Some people you can talk to, others need to be hit up
side the head to get their attention; and the real hard heads need
to be whacked and buried. It’s their choice as much as mine. Such
is life, kid.”

“The irony of this whole situation is three
years ago I would have stayed out of this or found the guy and
confronted him, or gone to the police. Now I have no qualms about
killing three more people, because it’s the simplest and most
direct solution. I keep telling myself I haven’t changed, but there
are times like this when I know damn well I have, and it kind of
scares me. Things are happening too fast.”