(Continued directly from the previous chapter)
"Hi Ken. Come in." Belle kindly welcomed me into her suite's bedroom.
I remained frozen for longer than I should've, trying to read her tone, her body language. She looked at ease, cordial, no pretense or malice in her voice, despite the presumption that I'd just been spying on her from this secret room.
I took a deep breath, then eventually moved my heavy feet, passing through the large rectangular opening in the wall.
I parked myself at a distance, slouching anxiously, sparing fleeting glances to see her watching me. Then I flinched, hearing a whirring noise from behind. The entryway was closing back up, the section of wall mechanically sliding back into place until it was all smoothly flush again.
Belle took note, staying calm. "Well, uh, I'm guessing that secret room is your boss' doing. Leon's always got something tricky up his sleeve, wouldn't you say?"
Her comment felt like an attempt to quell the tension in the air. But I didn't react, unsure exactly how to.
"So how've you been, Ken?" she asked, friendly yet fragile.
My mouth felt taped shut. Why couldn't I speak? My heart was racing so fast, my legs itching to tremble.
Belle then reached into a nightstand to pull out a rolled joint. "Want to smoke this together? Adam gave me it earlier."
I subtly shook my head no.
She looked disheartened, placing the small joint back down on the nightstand, before turning back to face me. "It's been a while. We missed you at my birthday dinner. You... doing okay?"
"Yep," I replied, finally able to eke something out. "I've-I've just been busy with—" I stopped myself, fighting against the impulse to cite my job as a reason for not keeping in touch.
She smiled gingerly. "I'm so happy you were able to come to the wedding."
Her words made me think twice. Over the past six months, I knew I had skipped out on several family gatherings, ignored her multiple invitations to hang out, but I guess she thought I may not have even shown up to this milestone event.
"I really am glad you're here, Ken... I was scared, that I'd driven you away or something... You, um, you moved out of the house so quickly. And I'm sorry, if I made you feel like I was forcing you out that night. I think I was just... in a particular mood."
I stared at Belle, trying to put myself in her shoes. Why was
she
the one apologizing to
me
?
She continued, "You know, these past few months, there'd be days where I'd randomly walk past your room, just wanting to say hi to you. But then I'd open your door. And it'd be empty, obviously, all of your things gone... I thought back on your time with us. It was so brief in the grand scheme of things. Then it started to feel like one big blur. Almost imagined in my head. And that made me sad...
Really
sad, actually... But also angry."
"You're mad at me?" I asked, fearful.
"No. At myself. That I could've done more."
"More? Of what?"
"I don't know. It just felt like I'd lost you." Her eyes started to well up.
For what felt like a minute, we just sat in complete silence. I think she expected me to say something. Anything. I was at a loss for how to respond. I had my own pent-up emotions swirling inside, but I didn't know how to express them, probably too scared to allow myself to try.
Belle then looked at me, a sadness in her eyes. "Ken... do you want to... fuck me?"
"What?" I said, surprised she had actually uttered those exact words.
"You can. If you want to," she said with a gentle hesitance, nothing like the seductive persona in her VR simulation.
"I... um..."
"I can do the work. Or whatever you want," she added, her tone now laced with desperation, trying to find my wavelength.
"Belle, I don't, I don't know if that's a good idea..."
-Ken you idiot! She just offered you her pussy!"
-Shut up! Take a fucking hike!
-Don't tell me what to fucking d—
-Bye!
Belle stared at me, probably wondering what kind of thoughts were running through my addled brain. As was I, with hers. She was offering herself to me. Her overture felt like a last-gasp effort to reel me up, from the underground bunker I'd isolated myself in, fortified by my guilt and shame—designed to avoid her.
Finally, Belle reacted to my prolonged silence, a mortified look on her face. "Shit, what am I doing! Please ignore that, Ken. I'm so stupid!"
Belle looked crestfallen, embarrassed, and flustered all rolled up into one. I didn't like seeing her this way. Felt like I was leaving her emotionally high and dry. She didn't deserve to shoulder my bullshit, on this day of all days.
A courage within me then catapulted to the surface, convincing me it was time to finally come clean. I cleared my throat to speak. "No Belle, I'm the one who's sorry... For putting that camera. In your bedroom."
I turned my eyes down momentarily, afraid of her reaction. But I swiftly brought them back up, giving her eye contact, letting her know that I was being wholly apologetic.
Belle wore a tiny, closed smile. Whether it was because of my apology itself, or because I was finally willing to connect with her. Either way, she looked pleased, simply looking at me, dabbing the corners of her wet eyes with a thumb.
"I still have it you know," she said. "That tiny black circle."
"You do? I would've thought you destroyed it."
"Why would I do that?" she said, sounding baffled. "It looks expensive. You must've paid a lot for it."
Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, that Belle hadn't stomped the shit out of my spy cam at some point, despite having every right to do so. She really was something else, a kind-hearted soul.
I felt the itch to ask, "Belle, have you been sending me notifications throughout the day?"
"What do you mean?"
"Through the Seelby Maps app."
"Since when does Seelby have a Maps app?" She genuinely looked flummoxed.
"Leon didn't give you access to the beta version?"
"Ken, are we even speaking the same language?...Must be what happens after us not talking for so long." She looked so lost, so helplessly earnest.
"Um, you know what, Belle, maybe I will smoke that joint with you after all." I awkwardly backtracked, changing the topic.
"Yeah? You want to?" She leaned forward with enthusiasm. "Okay, come sit with me. We've got a lot of catching up to do."
***
I innocently joined Belle atop the mattress, sitting cross-legged facing her, me in my pajamas, her in her light pink nightgown.
She lit Adam's joint, puffed, then passed. I did the same, praying that this weed would bring us closer to some mutual understanding.
"How's Eva? Are you still with her?"
"We're good. Closer than ever actually. But I miss her a lot. She's in Rio de Janeiro, recording vocals for Enzo's next album."
"That's so awesome for her! Can't wait to hear her songs," she said. "And how about you, how's Seelby? Is Leon working you to the bone?"
"My workload's been alright. I should probably detach from it a bit."
"Would sure love to see you over the house more often. Colin and your Uncle Frank are always asking about you when they're over."
Belle's mention of Uncle Frank felt like we were veering ever closer to the hard-hitting questions. Luckily, she anticipated and got ahead of it. Belle finished the last of the small joint, then put it out on an ashtray on the nightstand.
"Listen Ken, about what you saw months ago, on your tiny camera... Just know that I love my husband... You understand that, right?"
I soaked in her sincerity, knowing her words were truthful.
"Do you have any questions?" she asked.
I sucked in a long inhale, summoning the strength to bring unknowns into the light. "Belle, can I ask you something about Uncle Artie's party? The day I first moved in."
"Please," she replied, warmly encouraging me.
"I admit, I was high off my ass in the basement that night, lying under the pool table. At some point, I noticed you and someone had walked in. Then you two started, um, getting intimate."
I stopped there for a second, letting her react to my admission. She just stared at me with curious eyes, wondering where my words were leading.
"Um, who were you with?" I nervously asked.
"Your uncle, of course," she replied.
"Uncle Frank?"
"No, silly!" She chortled.
"Uncle Artie?" I shot back, incredulous. "But the guy's shoes were black. Uncle Artie was wearing gold loafers that night."
Belle took note of my astute observation, letting seconds tick by, then delivered a knowing smile my way. "Your uncle hates those gold shoes. He's said they aren't comfy for dancing. I bet he probably took them off briefly, then put them back on again at some point."
"Oh..."
Belle continued staring at me, carefully measuring my reaction. "Why do you look so disappointed, Ken?"
"I, uh, I guess I just never thought that the 'basement guy' was Uncle Artie this whole time."
Belle seemed amused at my arbitrary label for the mystery man. "Did you
want
it to be your Uncle Frank?"
"Um..." I paused, trying to form a coherent response.
"Or I guess..." She briefly paused as well. "Who
did you
want it to be?"
What a loaded question. Never in a million years did I think we'd even be having this conversation. Belle's phrasing was leaving it open-ended for me to answer, her honest attempt of understanding me more deeply, I surmised.
"Did you imagine it was some other man at the party?" she asked.
I cleared my throat once more. "Honestly, I think I imagined the basement guy was whomever I needed him to be, whenever I felt an urge to mast—" I involuntarily censored the last word of my sentence.
She took a moment to process my unfinished confession, lending me a kind expression. "Okay for me to ask something now?"
"Sure," I said, a bit nervous what sort of secrets I'd feel compelled to reveal.
"Did you really have a poster of me in your bedroom? When you were in high school?"
"It was a long time ago," I replied, trying to downplay its importance.
