I spend all day walking and thinking about everything I did and wonder what I could have done differently. When a mission fails, it’s because we screwed up. Where did I go wrong? I hate my life. Ohhhh, Vickie, why did you kill me?
Chapter 3 — Where is he?
Connie’s (William’s mother) point of view:
“Hello, this is Bill. Please leave a message.”
After dialing my son, it goes to voicemail. That’s odd. It’s Sunday. He always picks up, even if it’s to tell me he is busy. I’ll try him later.
+++++
Later that evening …
“Hello, this is Bill. Please leave a message.”
I’m frustrated; where is he?
I call Jane, my daughter.
Jane answers, “Hi, mom. I’m busy right now. Can I call you back later?”
I shout, “Wait! Have you heard from your brother today?”
Jane is breathing hard, “No, mom. Don’t worry, he’s a BIG boy. Bye.”
She’s right. If there was ever a man that could defend himself, it’s my William. Such a big imposing man. The military made him big, strong, and he even got a college degree. I never saw that coming.
+++++
Monday, 10:00 AM.
“Hello, this is Bill. Please leave a message.”
I have a terrible feeling. I call Jane again.
Jane answers, “Hi, mom. What’s up.”
I am almost hyperventilating; I’m scared, “It’s Bill. I tried three times, including just a few minutes ago. He’s not answering.”
Jane does her Ernest Hemingway impression, a true master of language, “Oh shit!”
Now that helped me a lot.
Jane gets better, “Call both your sisters, uncle Donnie, grandma, then try that bitch Vickie and his work.”
I ask, “Do you have Vickie’s phone number? I never cared enough to ask for it.”
Jane laughs, “I was about to ask the same question. Nope, I never asked either. Fuck. I know the neighborhood he lives in. I will take my boyfriend out there; I will flash his picture and see if anyone has seen him. Anyone that has ever met him will remember him. Something is wrong.”
I call Winnie, my older sister, Donnie, my older sister’s husband, and mom. Not a peep to any of them. I call Libby next. I’m getting desperate.
Libby answers the phone, “Hi Connie, it’s been almost a week. This is an odd time for you to call me. Is this about your son?”
I scream into the phone, “YES!!!! What do you know? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened? Is he ok? Where is he? LIBBY!!! TALK GOD DAMN IT!!!!!!!”
Libby answers, “Sorry, you were yelling so loud; I dropped my phone. You’re obviously too strung out. I think this is something that we need to discuss face to face. Let me get a driver. I’ll be right over. Wine won’t be enough; we need some Margaritas. Have a pitcher waiting; I’ll be there in twenty. Bye Connie. I love you.”
+++++
I’m pacing by the front door when Libby rolls up to the front door. Floyd helps her out of her car. I slam into her, and my tears break out. She guides me to the closest room, my deceased husband’s office. It’s been cleaned up since he passed on. There is a beautiful fireplace. It’s warm outside, so no fire. There are two high-back leather chairs with a small table in between. Two large glasses and a pitcher of Margaritas are already set out.
I sip my drink three times. She starts talking on her own.
Libby has no emotion as she tells the story, “I saw your son Saturday night at NSA. Not the one you’re thinking, the other one, Natalie’s Sexual Adventure.”
I gasp, “No way. Not William. You think you saw him.”
I almost giggle, “Connie. How many men are as good-looking and as imposing a man as your son is? He is unique and as gentle a man as I have ever known. As you know, I have known quite a few. Your son tops them all, hands down. He’s special. Somehow, he is separated from Vickie. He’s dressed in a fantasy slave outfit with tight-fitting underwear. Otherwise, it’s a belt and two straps making an X over his chest.
“I can tell he’s looking for Vickie. We make eye contact, and he seems like he wants to cry. There was a group of young women there from where he worked. They all had on matching company t-shirts. They call out his name. He was ready to die. His hands are chained in a short spreader bar. They attach a chain to the bar and lift him up into the air, so he’s just barely touching the floor. Two guys go up and rip off his underwear.
“He’s bare ass naked with a huge flaccid cock hanging down. Oh, what a sight he was. The biggest, most impressive body I have ever seen, bar none. That’s God’s own creation; it’s perfect. Being stripped naked broke him. He cried out in pain and shame. Every other man that was auctioned off, they were all for it. It became apparent he had no clue. He goes ape shit. He breaks a bar that wasn’t supposed to break. He would have killed people had the owner not come down herself.
“With a woman, he became docile until two guys tried to control him. One got knocked out, and the other suffered because he wasn’t knocked out. Things happened so fast; I’m guessing a bit here. They unbind him, and then he walks away arm in arm with the owner. I never did see Vickie. I would bet she is behind this, but there must be more. There is no way that a petite woman can stop William. I saw him in action; it was amazing at the sheer strength he showed.”
I am mad at my sister, “I can’t believe you. You lust after your own nephew.”
My sister laughs at me, takes a good long drink, and continues, “He is all man. He is a mountain of a man. I think I heard him called Beast Man. When he reacted, he was Beast Man. He was much more than a regular human. There were four of them, and nobody thought the four had a chance. His movement was compact, sharp, and controlled. He was a machine. If I had the opportunity, damn straight, I would test him out and see what it’s like for him to fuck me. Sign me up now.
“Part of the reason that I’m here is to give you this card. He isn’t cheap, but he is excellent and discrete. He does what needs doing. Best yet, he has no morals. Spencer Wilson. You file a missing person’s report, and then you call him. If your son has not returned your call, something is wrong. Don’t wait. Better safe than sorry.
“If he has a broken heart, he is capable of anything. I saw the look of determination on his face. Whoever Vickie was with is in mortal danger. I will leave so you can do your work. I will call Spencer and give him what I know.”
She gets up. I get up. We hug each other.
She has tears in her eyes, “Find him soon. He’s a good boy. Call me if you find him.” She shouts out, “Love you,” as she runs out of the house crying.
I dial 911.
Three hours later and the officers have just left the house. I had donated enough money when they needed equipment; they damn well were coming out to the house.
My next call is Spencer.
+++++
Sophia’s (Vickie’s mother) point of view:
I have just been dropped off with my two bodyguards at my daughter’s apartment building. It’s locked.
I ask the doorman, “I am Vickie’s mother; I am here to see her.”
My bodyguard presses the button for Vickie’s apartment. We hear a ringing noise, and they push the button several more times before there is a weird sound and then nothing.
My bodyguard says, “She’s in trouble. Either you open this door and her door, or I am using my weapon and forcing entrance due to a probably health emergency. ACT NOW, OR I WILL!”