Dating Rules And Pretty Fools Ch 26

Chapter Twenty-Six -- One Step Behind

Fear turned his stomach into a block of ice, while the blood halted in its course through his veins. Hudson looked around, his head swimming in darkness, his eyes unable to see a thing.

"Hey man," someone called him, right by his side, and it took him moments to understand that Jackie was trying to get his attention. "The fuck you look so spooked?"

Hudson shook his head as if he were trying to get rid of some water that had gotten into his ears. It served to clear his mind a little. "I need to leave you here, in charge, for a bit."

"What?" Jackie blinked and licked his lips like someone that hadn't had a drop of water in a long time. "Where are you going? Fuck this shit, don't leave me alone, Vegas. These fuckers, they could put me up there." His usually playful eyes were shiny with unshed tears now.

He needed to be the strong one here. He needed to give Jackie all the reassurance the young man had to have from him, and he needed to rush to Otis's help. Gavin's laconic message had been enough. He couldn't sit idly by and pretend everything was fine.

Jackie continued to stare at him as Hudson grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed. "I'll be right back."

"You're not bailing on me, are you?"

"I know you're scared," Hudson said, moving closer and staring into Jackie's eyes, hoping to lend the other some of the strength he no longer felt. "But there are police everywhere around this place. The whole thing is under close surveillance. Nothing will happen to you."

"But I want you here. You can protect us. Shit, I don't even have a gun. Do you have one to spare?"

"I'm not giving you a gun, Jackie," Hudson said sternly. Then he patted the guy's cheek. "Listen to me. You're strong. You can do this. And I thought you were a man capable of holding his own. Was I wrong?"

The jab at Jackie's ego worked. A nod followed, even if it lacked much in the way of self-assurance. "No. I can do this shit. But these assholes, these fuckers," Jackie said through his teeth, "they're all going to pay. Tell me they're not going to get out of here, walk free, after what they've done."

"You have my word. Hold the fort, partner," Hudson said and squeezed Jackie's shoulder one last time.

He called the captain on his way out. "It's on."

The captain didn't have to know everything, just the details pertaining to the case. And now, he was running to the car, getting inside, one hand still on the phone, calling Gavin.

***

"You know you're not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to let you in here."

"Shut up," Hudson grunted as he took in the scene from the door hanging open.

"And how am I going to tell the captain this is related? Most of all, are you sure this is related?"

"Gavin, you're a major pain in the ass, did you know that?"

"So I've been told. Don't touch anything. And you can't go inside."

"I know. I've been to school."

"Sometimes I doubt it. Now, spill."

Hudson turned toward Gavin and endured the judgmental look from his friend. "The guy's my boyfriend."

"Fuck me sideways. And why exactly was he kidnapped? That's the most logical assumption 'cause there's no body and--"

Hudson put one hand up. "He's not dead. Listen now, because I need to get back. There's this room where these fuckers hold people." He got Gavin up to speed on the redbrick building and the significance of the room that served to hold people hostage, making sure that his colleague understood everything he needed to.

Gavin nodded as he typed quickly on his phone. "I heard through the grapevine you've already told the captain to gather the troops. This isn't something you told him about, right?"

Hudson set his jaw hard. "You don't have to rub it in, asshole. Tell me if you'd rather be doing something else."

"West, I'm an asshole, but I'm a loyal asshole. Trust me on this. We'll get your boyfriend back. And when all's done, I'm going to laugh at you, but not before your guy is safe. Clear enough for you?"

Hudson nodded. "I have to get back now. Keep me posted."

***

Otis didn't say a thing as a black hood was pulled over his head.

"I apologize terribly for this," the man with the metallic voice said, "but I can't risk you getting away from me. We will be great friends."

"Friends do not kidnap each other," Otis opened his mouth. Now that the ability to see had been taken away from him, he couldn't count on studying his surroundings for clues. There was always a chance that the whole thing was a terrible mistake, but even if things stood as they were, he had become -- as the TV shows he had watched taught him -- an inconvenient witness.

"I don't disagree." The stranger wrapped one hand around his. It was covered by a leather glove, Otis could tell. "Well, that only means that we're just on our way to becoming the best of friends."

"What is your name?"

"What a wonderful creature you are," the man commented. "We're going on a little drive and I will tell you what you need to know about me."

Otis kept silent from that moment on. His hands were tied in front and his bare feet sensed cold hallway floors and then what had to be the pavement outside that building. He was made to climb into a car. Making a run for it under the circumstances wouldn't end up well for him. That was something he knew and knew well, also from the movies he had watched. People who ran were shot in the back; usually they were side characters, and side characters didn't have to be spared.

In this story, he didn't know what sort of character he was. But he felt, in the chill running down his spine, that he had to be the kind that wasn't going to be spared.

He heard the car engine purring to life. It had to be a good quality vehicle by the smell of the upholstery and the smoothness of its movement.

The driver took his hand again. "My beautiful boy." Dry lips touched the back of Otis's hand as it was lifted into the air. "My name is Gideon Keres. And you are?"

"You kidnapped me. You must know who I am."

This was a chance to see if he had been kidnapped by accident. Gideon Keres must have wanted someone else.

"So clever. You are a wonder, do you realize?"

"No."

"And modest, too. All right, Otis Bendecker, consider me enthralled with you. And your beauty."

It wasn't an accident. His heart began beating faster. Otis fought his hardest not to let his kidnapper know he was afraid by controlling his breathing through the exercises he had learned from his therapist.

"You have no reason to be afraid of me."

What a ridiculous thing to say. Otis had heard all of it before.

"Why are you sitting there? Sit here, close to mommy. What? You are afraid? Because I shook you a little earlier?"

It had never been a little. She had never been directly violent, never slapped him or kicked him, save for that last time. But it had always hurt just the same. And the fear had always been the same.

"You are very silent. I know you aren't stupid. So, talk."

"I have no money. There is no one to pay any ransom money," Otis said, articulating every word with difficulty. The memories had come unbound now, and he couldn't stop them. They could send him on a downward spiral and he didn't know if he could stop it.

"I wouldn't trade you for all the money in the world," the metallic voice continued. It was hard to believe the words were pouring out of a human being and not a robot created to talk. "You are beautiful."

"I am scarred." Otis swallowed thickly. His thirst was accentuated the more he talked.

Gideon Keres let out a sound like a sinister laugh. "I am a whole scar. And that makes you so imperfectly perfect. I had no idea. I thought you were just the kind of beauty I'd take great pleasure in destroying."

It wasn't fair. Fate wasn't fair, Otis thought as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. He hadn't been kidnapped for ransom money, but for something else. The only way to find out what his kidnapper meant by it was to ask.

"Why did you kidnap me?"

"Because I need a friend. You took a good look at me. Do you believe I have many friends? Or none at all?"

"I don't know. I don't know you." Breathing through the dense fabric of the hood made everything more difficult, talking included.

"You will be my friend, Otis. My special friend. You are already special because you have that lovely scar, but I will slowly transform you into my better half. Have you read Frankenstein?"

"Frankenstein is the doctor's name, not the monster's, like many people believe by mistake," Otis recited what he remembered from his reading. "But I haven't read the book."

Another mechanical laugh followed. "I will read it to you. You appear the kind to have a deep appreciation of unusual beautiful things. Unlike Frankenstein's monster, I will ask no doctor to create a mate for me. I will do it myself. It's only just for me to find love just like anyone else. Don't you think?"

"What do you mean?" Otis asked, ignoring the direct question. He had no answer for it.

"I will turn your flawless skin into a scar. I will take away your sight to give you mine, your hearing so that you can only hear me, and at the end of it all, you will be perfect. My perfect mate."

Perfect was a word full of hate in how it sounded coming out of Gideon Keres. Otis didn't want to become the man's perfect mate.

He couldn't escape. Not now. Even if he managed to open the door on his side, jumping out of a moving vehicle would most likely lead to serious injuries and even death. And the driver would only have to stop the car and collect him from where he had jumped only to drag him away just as was happening right now.

Another option to check off his list. But he could wait.

The house was silent, so silent, and his working on the lock was deafening in that silence. He feared she was somewhere inside, waiting to jump at him and hunt him down, dragging him back into the punishment room, but the bottles -- he had inspected them the day before -- were all empty, so she had to be out on her errand to bring home more of the same.

He needed to be patient. If it didn't work on the first try, he would try a second time, and a third time, and a fourth time. He would be free if only he could be patient enough.

***

"Where have you been?" Watkins barked at him the moment he got back. "We have to ensure everything's perfect for the opening, and you're running around, getting your dick wet."

Jackie gestured from behind Watkins, pointing at the camera Hudson was holding.

"I needed to bring in more gear from a friend," he said in a pacifying tone. Right now, he wanted to wrap his hands around Watkins's throat and strangle the fucker until he died. "You sort of took me by surprise with your announcement."

"All right, all right," Watkins waved impatiently. "Jackie, take Vegas to shoot some pics of Jasper."

"But he's like almost not moving at all," Jackie protested. "I don't think he's going to open his eyes even."

"That's all for the better for what we have in mind," Watkins spat at his underling. "Go. I have a thousand things to do."

"Where is the big boss?" Hudson asked casually.

Watkins gave him a hard stare. "Do you want to keep tabs on the man who signs your paycheck? Artist or not, Vegas, you think yourself more important than you are. Do as you're told. And don't bother me again until you're finished."

Jackie grabbed Hudson by the elbow and dragged him along. "Come on, man, let's do our job."

They were walking down the hall when Jackie hissed at him, "Man, not gonna lie, you look kind of wild. The fuck's going on? And you keep telling me not to blow it."

Hudson couldn't share that part with Jackie. The guy would freak out, for sure. "Just stress," he said shortly.

"Well, de-stress yourself, 'cause I think shit's about to get real."

He needed his head on his shoulders. For Otis, and not only for him. Jasper, Jackie, and who knew? Maybe even Angel. He stopped for a moment, dead in his tracks. As much as a part of him worried about Otis still being alive -- irrational, demanding, crazy mad -- he now knew beyond the shadow of a doubt who the third cross on the big stage was for.

His phone buzzed. The burner again. The noose was getting tighter, and he was playing fast and loose. But the ability to have options had flown out the window and there was no turning back now.

He checked the phone quickly. There was a picture from Gavin. The caption read.

We're still one step behind. But your guy is smart.

Hudson zoomed in to understand what he was looking at. A blank wall on which something was scribbled in faint letters.

I was here

Otis Bendecker

September 29 2023

time unknown not morning

***

The air changed. He was taken out of the car and brought inside another building, Otis realized as he steeled himself and honed all his senses to catch as much as he could of his surroundings and what was going on. His bare feet felt gravel and dust before entering. This place was not inside the city, or at least not in an area with pavement. It could be a house out in the fields, like his mother's had been but somehow he didn't believe that. There was a faint smell of rust in his nostrils. Houses, even unkempt houses, didn't smell like that. He couldn't place the source of that scent, either.

The hood was removed from his head and he blinked to adjust his vision to the bright light.

"What a surprise," someone commented.

It took him a few more seconds to identify the source of the new voice. Otis searched the other person's face. He knew that man. He had seen him before. In Hudson's apartment.

He didn't say anything and turned his head, looking around. It looked like a boiler room, with equipment lying around, uncared for. That was why it smelled like it did.

"He's a weird one," the man said again.

"He's lovely," Gideon Keres said.

"Of course. Very pretty."

"Watkins, you have zero eye for true beauty. You don't realize what you're seeing although it's right in front of your eyes."

Keres moved closer to Otis and brushed his hair away from his scar. Then he began to finger it with his gloved hand. "Just imagine the possibilities."

Watkins looked at Otis, meeting his gaze only for a moment. He looked as cold and dead inside as Otis remembered from that first time.

"He's going on stage with the other two. Yes, I'd say he'll do just fine. Maybe we should even start with him."

"No. He is my triumph." Keres seemed so taken with his scar, pressing around it and feeling it like he couldn't stop doing that. Otis was fighting himself not to flinch away from that disturbing touch. "He's my end goal."

"I appreciate everything you're doing for the business, boss," Watkins said and his grin turned sardonic and ugly, as Otis calmly inspected him. "But most of the time, I have no idea what you're going on about. So, is he going to go last? After Jasper and Angel?"

Jasper. Angel. Otis tucked the names away. He might need them later.

"No. He is going to be the centerpiece for a long time. I will transform him slowly, with my own hand. And I will keep him alive until he's perfect for me."

Watkins sighed. "And will the others think that's what they deserve for their money? They want proper bloodshed, not art."

"I believe they are all coming here because they trust my vision," Keres replied. His breath was foul on Otis's face. "And don't call it bloodshed, it's in bad taste."

"Is it just me or is the weirdo acting like he's not scared shitless? What did you give him?"

Otis stared as Keres moved brusquely and smacked Watkins across the face so fast that the man staggered and choked, as if he had just been forced to eat his words.

"As I said," Keres continued and turned his attention back to Otis. "You're nothing but a grunt, Watkins. And don't worry, they'll pay to see me create my masterpiece. As for your question, my beloved here is not frightened because he understands. Because he's the soulmate I have been searching for my entire life without even realizing it. But now I know." He caressed Otis's cheek and turned his face slowly. "I know that I'm in love."

Watkins squealed from his place. "In love? For real? You don't have a dick, how are even supposed to fuck him?"

Otis expected Keres to launch into another vicious attack like earlier, but his thick strange lips stretched into a smile. "You are a vulgar animal, with no taste for what is truly beautiful in life. My body has none of your earthly needs. I do not need to copulate with my beloved to assure him of my undying thirst for him."

"Undying?" Watkins squealed again. To Otis, he sounded like someone scared, so his words were strange, seemingly pushing him in the direction of getting hit again. "Are you going to keep him forever?"

"Of course. Once I finish turning him into the perfect object of my desire, I will embalm him and keep him inside my house. My very own Taj Mahal, but I will live in it, along with my beloved. Immortalized forever. Together."

"You're one sick man," Watkins spat with disgust.

"Watch it, lap dog," Keres said without turning. "I'm barely tolerating your sight as it is. Your bravado, this very moment, whom does it serve? My beloved doesn't care about you. He only has eyes for me. And you know my opinion of you. Get out."

Otis heard Watkins walking out of the room. He continued to keep his eyes on Keres, without blinking.

"Don't mind these mere mortals. They don't understand a thing, the worms," Keres said as he continued to touch Otis's face. "But you do understand me. Look at you. You aren't even trembling. Because you know that I'm not threatening you. I love you. So how could I hurt you?"

"I would never do a thing to him."

His mother's voice, tearful and pleading.

"This house is a complete mess, Olivia. Is this where you're raising your son? And where is he? I haven't seen him in three years."

His grandma's voice. Tired, yet firm. Otis remembered her vaguely. He was watching from behind the corner.

And later, more reproaches. "The boy barely speaks! Will you let him come with me? I will take him off your hands if he's too much work for you."

"He's my son!"

The sound of broken plates.

"You forced me to give up on you, but you're not going to force me to give up on him, too." His grandma again, as firm as ever. "I will take him from you, whether you like it or not."

"No!" His mother screeched, like a wounded animal. "You can't take him away! He's all I have! I love him!"

There were different types of love, Otis had learned. And one of them was sick and dark and unyielding, and the nice lady at the clinic had told him that wasn't love, but for so long, that was the only kind he had felt.

He looked into Keres's immobile, scary eyes. "You can't hurt me," he said, calm and ready. A mantra he had learned a lifetime ago so that he could start anew.

"As I thought," Keres said with what had to count as delight if the slight inflections of his metallic voice could be interpreted one way or another. "My true peer. My true love."

***

Hudson felt Jasper's neck. He was still alive, but it was unsettling that they were going so far with drugging the young man. There was life left in him, but he needed help.

"Who's in charge of giving him the drugs?" he asked in a quiet voice as he arranged Jasper in various ways, pursing his lips in frustration -- for anyone watching -- and worry -- for himself -- when the youngster's limbs refused to stay in place.

"That's Angel," Jackie said and stole nervous glances around.

"He's going on the stage, too. Does he know it?" Hudson asked.

"Do you think he'd miss his chance to become a star?" Jackie said with a snort. Then, he blanched. "Don't tell me... that is what they're going to do? On the first night? To Angel, too?"