CHAPTER 1
The beginning of the end.
“This is Terry King, reporting live from London; CNN.”
My eyes opened and instantly, I was aware. The clock read 7:03 a.m. Clear as a bell. I was unsure why the television was on, but I answered the phone on the second ring and spoke as if I had been awake for hours.
“Hello?”
The moment I allowed for a response provided nothing in return. By the time the line went dead, I questioned if I was as awake as believed. A faint smile crossed my face after returning the phone to its handle and flipping through a few channels. One of the most pleasurable things in Europe was their lack of broadcast censorship. They had no problem showing nudity on every channel. After a few minutes in oblivion, I headed for the shower. The icy water hit my skin, instantly jarring the crow incident hours earlier. I stood silent, feeling each trickle of water traverse down my spine. Crouched down, my shaking was uncontrollable. The chills had nothing to do with the water.
I ran for my bed, throwing the blanket over my body in an attempt to block everything out; the light, the sound of the heater and most of all, the vision of the knife in my hand. I remained dormant, waiting for the pain in my skull to subside. Not until I heard the pounding on the front door was I able to move an inch. The blanket still wrapped around my body, I stumbled toward the steel door and unlatched the lock. Scott’s hand aided the door open and it only took a quick glance in my direction before his smirk said it all.
“Aw, Jeez! Come on! I knew you were still sleeping!”
Though unnecessary to throw his hands up to exaggerate the situation, Scott had a flair for the dramatics. He sauntered his way to the open bar without further notice of my condition. I was pale as a ghost.
“Hey, are you feeling all right?”
Finally, concern. “I don’t know.”
He leaned down to get a better look at my complexion, realizing I was serious. I could not describe what was wrong when I wasn’t sure myself. Could I share that I was ready to murder a human and was disappointed when I did not?
“I think the veal on the flight didn’t agree with my stomach.”
Under the circumstances, my lie could have been better. His eyes verbalized he was not buying my tale, but he made his best effort to move on. Slapping his hands together, he was ready to build a better me.
“Let’s get some tea and toast in your body to bind you. We can’t have you scaring the locals by going out naked.”
Scott smiled and tossed my wrinkled silk tie into my face.
“Here, put this on.”
Thankfully, I was able to dress while Scott dropped into the loveseat and marveled at the nudity on the local broadcast stations.
✽✽✽
Catching a cab to our meeting was not a problem. Getting it to our destination was a different story. Scott argued for the driver to take us to the airport while the cabbie kept trying to offer a sightseeing tour. I watched the two have at it, finding a moment to smile. Scott Presco was a unique individual. Aside from being my colleague, he was one of my closest friends. A year or so younger, at 5’ 11” he also stood about an inch taller. Apart from that, the physical similarities were there. His sandy brown hair was a bit lighter than mine, but I would admit that he did have a more athletic physique due to my slight beer belly.
I met Scott when I started working at Swanair three years ago. Originally from Detroit, his path to New York included a few stopovers in cities desperate for his talents. His sly tongue was second to none. Our position in sales required prior IT experience as well as a flair for bullshitting in closing deals. My wife said I had enough of both to do well; part compliment, part insult. We sold our airline’s computer software to the airports. Further elaboration was unnecessary, as it really did not matter. I went from tech to sales in five years. To sum things up, I considered myself a person of change and willing to try anything once. Apparently, including murder.
“No change.”
Once I heard Scott’s voice, I realized we arrived. Fed up with figuring out the currency exchange, he threw the driver enough money to buy two cabs. We exited and moved cautiously around the traffic since it was our first time in Romania. Scott had a profound sense for directions and constantly claimed he was never lost. I messed with him anyway.
“Are you lost? Because I can always…”
Still wearing his sunglasses, he furrowed his brow and delivered his usual reply.
“Hey, nothing can hide from me.”
Sure enough, we found the boardroom for the airport managers. Due to my little panic attack, we were twenty minutes late. Rather than walk in the room, Scott stopped us at the doorway entrance.
“Plan B. Full court pressure, Jojo. Follow my lead.”
I sighed. “What’s the timetable?”
Scott removed his glasses and smiled. “Six hours to nail the deal, five hours of Happy Hour leading to last call for alcohol.”
I rubbed the mounting sweat from my forehead.
“Just promise me no wolf.”
Six and a half hours later
The marble floor entrance was just another prop in Scott’s favor. Sliding in the front door of the hotel bar with his arms high in the air, the animalistic howl he released gathered the attention of the bar’s patrons.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Drunks of all ages! All aboard the intoxication express!”
I remained a few steps behind, irked by the usual dramatics.
“Thanks for keeping it low key.”
The first open bar stool was my destination while Scott ordered. After he did a tremendous job at the meeting, we were back to the hotel bar right on his intended schedule. The “Bistro” was a moderately sized place, scattered with a few lost souls who toiled about the bar. I was told it crowded nicely with the expectance of many visiting executives very willing to buy the local women drinks. I raised my beer towards Scott.
“Here’s to the contract. Signed, sealed and deceitfully delivered.”
Clinking my bottle, he laughed off my comment.
“Come on, you said ‘I do’ at your wedding, didn’t you? You’re the real pro, bud.”
I felt tired, likely due to the combination of the jet lag and the crow incident. My slight attempt in the cab to tell Scott never happened, deciding he would have just laughed. Hours passed and as the shot glasses piled into the shape of a pyramid, I noticed the glaze across my partner’s face. Scott bought the last six rounds. He was feeling it.
“Do you know what’s wrong with this world?”
I knew he was not more than two steps shy of passing out in the gutter when he started with his philosophy on life, but I braced myself for another obscure conversation. Part of being a friend meant humoring the inebriated.
“No, tell me. What’s wrong with this world?”
“Boobs.”
“Boobs?”
“Boobs.”
In his state of mind, this was going to be interesting.
“Please elaborate.” He did.
“The problem with this world can all be traced back to a woman’s breasts. If you go back throughout history, every great man, in whatever field of expertise, has most likely been humbled by some woman with great breasts. As man watches these simple fat glands bounce up and down, all our years of maturity and posture are forgotten, and we revert to the infant days of breast feeding!”
Even intoxicated, he was going to attempt to make this semi-plausible. Quick to catch my nod, he raised his eyebrows in anticipation of the inevitable. Giving him his due, I nodded my head again.
“Continue.”
His raised voice drew a small audience and by clearing his throat, he had the attention of the crowd. His dramatics caused chuckles and mock applause. Finding his prop in the keychain laser pointer on the counter, Scott directed the shining dot to the poster above the bar.
“Look at this advertisement. Its intended purpose is to sell the beer. Yet, the actual bottle is far in the background while her breasts are hosed down front and center at the outdoor car wash! The tool they use to deceive us is the treacherous ‘push–up bra.’ My God! Women drill into our heads to always be honest and never lie and they attempt to fool us from the introduction!”
Leaping on a chair, he preached to his newfound followers.
“Can I get a witness!”
His arms spread wide in Messiah-mode, he looked down at his followers, some of whom jeered and dismissed his ranting. The women did not seem to appreciate his opinion and just went back to their conversations. All but one of them. I tried to ask Scott what he hoped to accomplish by his silly speech, but I was interrupted by a voice from behind.
“You poor boy.”
Turning, I was speechless at the sight of a lovely woman dressed in a short, red mini skirt. My eyes traced her long, black hair from the top of her head right down to her perfectly round bottom. Her painted red lips formed a pouty expression as she slowly lipped to Scott in a seductive manner.
“Have you been a victim of deception?”
Scott put forth his best puppy dog eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I think someone needs to show you that all women aren’t like that.”
She raised her hands from her side, slowly cupping her breasts as she focused on Scott’s eyes.
“No bra, all mine.”
My partner simply smiled. His slow step down from the chair was deliberate.
“Another round, bartender. Give the lady and my friend whatever they want.”