Chapter Twenty-Two -- Too Far Away From Home
His life was split in two, Hudson mused as he stepped into the new club, if the former industrial building could truly be called that. Unlike the first time when he had visited the place with Jackie, some new furniture had been brought in, mainly long sofas and tables, which meant that the only comforts were reserved for those who would walk in there as clients. Otherwise, the grim look of the place had been kept and, for a second time, Hudson let his eyes wander to the thick steel beams crisscrossing the high ceiling. A cathedral of sorts, his mind whispered, one meant for worshipping the devil, not a god.
That morning, he had left Otis sleeping, a sheet pulled over him, one arm bent under his head, his face smooth and relaxed, a small smile quirking his lips as if under the influence of a good dream. For a moment, he had felt tempted to wake his boyfriend up to kiss him and hold him, just to postpone what he needed to do, step into this other world that should never taint the one he had recently come to know.
Jackie whistled, mimicking the sounds an owl at night would make to get his attention. This time, they hadn't driven here together, so Hudson didn't know if he would see the young man at the location of the new club.
There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he looked older. Wiser, hopefully, as well. Hudson nodded at him. "What's with the signal?" he asked.
Jackie shrugged. "Aren't we supposed to have a code or something?"
Apparently, they were all alone in that large enclosure, surrounded by nothing but furniture in disarray. However, Hudson knew that he needed to educate Jackie and fast.
"No, what we are supposed to do is to behave like always," he said curtly as he examined his camera and began taking out the accessories he assumed he would need to use for whatever Watkins had in mind.
Jackie was about to say something else when the door behind them opened and someone walked in. Hudson took in the stranger with curious eyes. He was a man in his fifties, with a few strands of hair brushed over his shiny scalp in a pathetic attempt to cover for what must have been lost a while ago. He wore a long coat with its collar raised, although the weather didn't warrant such warm clothes despite the days growing shorter, so his body was obscured from view. His height was a bit over six feet and he appeared to be large in the shoulders. His mouth was thick, but not sensual, reminding Hudson of a fish living at the muddy bottoms of lakes. His nose was misshapen, caved in, like the result of a blunt trauma. But his eyes were what made the whole visage come off as something from a horror movie. There were no eyelashes and no eyebrows to speak of. And the eyes themselves were covered by a film that made them look watery and alien. A face meant for nightmares. Hudson must have been staring, because the stranger eyed him, too, without saying a thing.
"Um, sir, excuse me, can I help you with something?" Jackie hurried to intervene. "I think you must have gotten the wrong address. This here's a private business."
What followed made Hudson's hair stand on end.
Because the stranger spoke in a metallic voice that left no guesswork as to who the newcomer was. "Watkins's boy, are you?"
Jackie's reaction was visceral. He took a step back and gawked at the man, then, as he must have remembered the bit from his conversation with Hudson at the precinct, he closed his fists and took a combat stance. "And who the fuck are you?"
Hudson jumped in and pulled Jackie back, gripping his arm hard enough to make him understand. Under his fingers, the young man's bicep was rigid.
"Are you friends with our boss? We were waiting for him, actually," he offered with a perfunctory smile, blinking for good measure as if to show his confusion. "He told us he'd be here by six."
"Mr. Vegas," the man's voice whirred mechanically, "is it?"
"Yes. It looks like you know who we are." Hudson let go of Jackie, pushing him back an inch, and stretched his hand out. "Who do we have the pleasure of meeting?"
The man laughed, as much as it could be called a laugh, but didn't shake Hudson's hand. He was holding both in the pockets of his dark coat. "You two make quite the couple. And Watkins warned me that his boy is not the sharpest tool in the shed. As for you, Mr. Vegas, he told me you are an interesting fellow. A true artist."
Hudson pulled back his hand, without displaying any sign of irritation. His face was an open book and he continued the conversation as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Thank you. But your praise feels unwarranted given that you haven't seen anything of my body of work."
"Excellent choice of words, Mr. Vegas," the stranger said with delight. "But that is where you're wrong. I've seen some of it. And I must say I'm impressed." He leaned back, his eyelids dropping. That way, he reminded Hudson of a reptile in the mood to strike. "You have an eye for genuine beauty."
"I understand then that the boss showed you some of the pictures I took of the models. Could you tell me which of them captured your attention?"
"The subject is as important as the man behind the camera," the man continued.
By Hudson's side, Jackie was showing signs of restlessness.
"Forgive Jackie's manners," Hudson said quickly. "He is very protective of the boss's business. He's very loyal."
That seemed to please the strange man. He turned his eyes to Jackie. "What Watkins failed to tell me was what a handsome young man he's been keeping around. Without putting him up to the work he's meant for."
Completely explainable, the expression on Jackie's face was one of horror and disgust. However, Hudson couldn't allow his ally to compromise the whole thing by leaping to strangle the man who had to be the key to the operation. Not until they had all the facts and they would put all those involved behind bars forever.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jackie asked.
The stranger laughed. "I will ask Watkins to put you on display. A little birdie told me you used to do the kind of work I'm talking about. So don't act so high and mighty, little whore."
Hudson grabbed Jackie before something irreversible happened.
"You fucking asshole!" Jackie grunted, fighting against Hudson's hold.
"Hey, hey," Hudson shouted and pulled him toward the door. "You need to calm the fuck down. Take five and clear your head." And, as he pushed Jackie out, he whispered in his ear, "I got this."
As soon as he closed the door with Jackie on its other side, he returned to their visitor. "I believe he doesn't like to be reminded about the way he used to earn his keep around here," he said with a sad smile.
"Do you have a lot of pity for former whores, then, Mr. Vegas?"
He shrugged. "I believe people are entitled to their choices. And to change their mind, as well."
"A true liberal," the stranger said from the tip of his revolting lips. From up close, they had a sickly bluish color. Whatever accident had messed the guy up, it must have been horrendous. "How is it that you show proper deference while little Jackie behaves like a riled up dog?"
"I must have a bit more life experience. Since you're here, and you know the boss, the only explanation is that you have a direct interest in the business Mr. Watkins runs here. So, you must be a VIP. An investor, perhaps?"
Once more, the man seemed pleased with the suggestion. "You're not far off, actually." He removed one of his hands from his pocket and Hudson noticed that it was covered by a black leather glove. He rubbed his chin for a moment and then put his hand back in his pocket. In the sweet fall weather, the stranger should be boiling in his own sweat, all dressed up like that. "I am the man with the money. All the money."
"I see. Well, then, do you want me to show you around? And is the boss going to be here soon?"
"He will. I will let him know that I want to see Jackie without his clothes, up on the stage. Properly used."
"With all due respect, sir, wouldn't it be easier to enjoy the models who don't mind doing this, to begin with?"
