Author's note: As Messy enters its third and final act, I have a few warnings for the readers.
First, there's not a lot of sexual activity in this chapter. Hardly any, to be perfectly honest. This chapter is almost totally plot-driven. So if you've been reading Messy for specifically that reason, you'll want to skip ahead to one of the next chapters once they're released.
Second, this chapter contains an after-the-fact description of homicide, and the effects of that crime on the accused. I tried to write the description as detachedly as possible, but still needed to convey the ugliness of the act. If you are squeamish or easily bothered, this is your heads-up.
*****
"Dammit, you can't just fire me over an accusation!" I pounded my fist on the admin's desk. "They let me go!"
"You made bail, Mr Galloway," administrator Finch said. "And you're a suspect in three unsolved homicides. I'm sorry, we're not going to have a murder suspect on our staff. Your name is already in the news, the police were looking for you for more than a week."
"I didn't kill those people, they were my friends. And I wasn't hiding or on the run, I was at my parents cabin for winter break, just like every other year I've been here." My aggravation was growing as this HR prick obstinately stonewalled my attempts to explain reason.
"Yes, they were your 'friends,'" Finch said with finger quotes. "The news detailed what kind of friends they were. Some kind of kinky sex dungeon club you run?"
I was so mad I didn't even feel embarrassed at having my private life dragged into the open. "Consenting adults. Its none of your business, or the schools business."
"On the contrary, it is the schools business. All of your students have dropped your classes, Mr. Galloway. ALL of them. I've had parents of the freshman here asking for your termination because they don't want you near their children, much less sleeping with them. Have you been sleeping with any students?"
This guy just kept stoking my rage. "I've NEVER slept with a student of any of my classes," I spat. "I've got a sterling record here, perfect reviews, the only problem I've ever had was that kid who threatened to kill themselves, and you stood behind me then. You traitor."
Finch leaned forward, unperturbed. "Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Mr. Galloway. HR departments exist to protect the business, not the employee, except where those interests align. There is not a single person in this building, your supervisors, your peers, your students, our CUSTOMERS who think it's a good idea to have a person of interest in three homicides and an outed sexual deviant on staff. The angrier you get, the more you prove them right. This is happening."
"Let ME make something perfectly clear to YOU," I said with a mastered calm as I rose and straightened my tie. "I have quote unquote played with women and men. If you fire me over my sexual preferences, my first call will be to my union which I happen to know is extremely liberal in a fairly liberal state. My next call will be to the lawyer they recommend to me. My third call will be to the American Civil Liberties Union. My final calls will be to any news organizations that want to televise the press conference I hold in your lobby as I explain that a tolerant, progressive institution of higher learning fired me for what I do in the privacy of my bedroom. I will make your life so motherfucking difficult that even if I don't win, you're going to wish you'd given me a job sorting paperclips for the next three months. Understand?"
I strode towards the door without waiting for an answer, and my mouth twitched upwards in my first smile of several days when the strained voice behind me said "Wait."
"What happened?" Tori asked as I slumped into the couch beside her. She was sitting in her living room, crushing a pillow into as small a ball as possible, staring hollowly at a TV that wasn't even turned on.
I loosened my tie and shrugged out of my suitcoat. "Unpaid administrative leave for the next semester. It sucks, but it's better than being fired."
"Yeah."
We sat there in silence. "Can you...afford...that?" she asked finally.
I sighed, did some brief mental figuring. "This row more than pays for itself. Even with bail, I've got enough in savings to keep going for a while. I'll probably get a part time job or something for a little bit. No big deal."
"Ok."
More silence.
"I'm gonna go next door and get a drink. You want anything?"
"Sure. I guess."
My hand was on the knob when Tori said "Gary?"
I turned. "Yeah?"
She'd lay down, wrapping herself around that crushed pillow, and she looked up at me with scrunched-up, dark eyes. "Do you think she...do you think THEY felt it?"
My throat tightened and I felt hotness around my eyes, pressure building in my chest and sinuses as I was jolted back to awful, dark thoughts of the past days, and the contemplation of what I'd been avoiding even thinking about. "Yeah. They did." I walked back to Tori, knelt by the couch. "I wish I could say no, but...but yeah. They did."
I put my hand on her shoulder and Tori shrugged it off violently. "DON'T touch me."
I rose and went next door. I looked at the bottle of Chopin in my cabinet. Looked at the bottle of Wild Turkey behind it. If I started drinking I wouldn't stop. The hazy dull feeling of intoxication pulled at me, luring my consciousness away from the sharp, empty gnaw of pain, regret, betrayal, and anger burning in my chest.
But if I got drunk, I wouldn't be able to hold a conversation with Jessie tonight, and I desperately wanted to talk to her. I wanted to hold her too, feel her slight weight on my chest. But I couldn't. Not until this was resolved.
I poured Tori a screwdriver and made a TV dinner, set both in front of the couch where she lay. She didn't even acknowledge my presence, eyes never moving from a fixed point somewhere beyond the room.
Back in my apartment I stared at my phone, flipping aimlessly through webpages, avoiding the morbid curiosity of searching for my own news articles.
Six in the evening ticked by on the clock, and I rose, made myself pasta from a box, looked into the liquor cabinet like it was the Ark of The Covenant, holding the answers to all of my mysteries.
Dammit.
While I ate, I poured all my alcohol down the drain except for Jessie's bourbon and Sienna's gifted vodka. It took a while. After that cathartic act of destruction, I put in a workout downstairs, beating the shit out of the heavy bag, clanking the freeweights up and down on the cold concrete floor, pushing myself harder and harder until my muscles burned with my self-flagellation.
Instead of emptying me of anger, my exertions only increased it.
I showered, tried masturbating. I could get it up, but the water ran cold before my erotic imaginings could bring me release. Dammit. I stared down my reflection in the mirror and didn't recognize the man in the foggy glass. Normally at least somewhat clean-shaven, the beard I had let grow over the winter had muddied the lines of my face. My hair was longer than I usually let it grow too, long enough to be soft instead of bristly. Not quite a mountain man, but ragged.
The haunted look in my eyes didn't help matters.
I sighed and felt my aching shoulders sag.
Dammit.
I cleaned up my appearance with an electric razor followed by a manual blade, and then sat down at my kitchen table to Skype Jessie.
