Alexander Ch 05

Author's Note

: All characters are well over the age of 18. All events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to person's living or dead is pure coincidence.

Recap

: Alexander was gifted a ring by his Great Uncle Julius. It came with no explanation or instructions, but Alexander discovered it gives him the ability to control people. Not their thoughts... only their actions and sensations. In the last episode he and his ally, Ellie, met someone who seemed to have some other kind of power, and left Alexander with an envelope.

* * *

Against Ellie's strenuous objections, Alexander had gone alone.

The elevator lifted in almost perfect silence to the 43rd floor. He stepped out into an open reception area with floor to ceiling windows. Tempered, treated glass gave a muted view across the East River.

"Alexander Othonos?" A petite woman, possibly Chinese, dressed in a vivid crimson and gold jacket over impossibly deep blue silk.

"Yes."

She handed him an envelope. "My name is Grace. Thank you for coming. Please have a seat. Read this. When you are ready, Colborne will answer your questions."

The paper had a raspy, expensive texture between his fingers.

A deep, plush sofa faced out onto the view across to the great tangle Brooklyn curving away South. Sunlight glittered on the rippling patterns of the water. There was a profound silence, a hush almost reverent.

Alexander turned the envelope over in his hands. His name was written on it in a rough, inelegant scrawl.

He slid his thumb under the corner of the seal to open it.

* * *

He and Ellie had opened the other envelope, the first one, at the uptown bar where Ellie had originally met Vanessa. Ellie's friend was back behind the bar. A tall, good looking guy with a thick, carefully trimmed beard and a friendly smile. The kind of bartender who can wear a vest in a way that might be ironic, or it might be straight, and it's pretty good either way.

Vanessa Crowther, if that had actually been her name, had handed this envelope to Alexander before walking stark naked out of the empty, abandoned house. The house that had previously appeared expensively and thoughtfully furnished.

Walking to the bar, Alexander broke the somber silence. "Looks like you got played, Manager."

"By

who

? By

what

?"

"Not sure why you are so surprised," he said, although he was a little curious as to why he wasn't more freaked out, himself. "I have a mysterious power to force people to do my will. We're not in Kansas anymore."

"It's just

hypnotism

," she said.

"It's clearly not

just

hypnotism," Alexander said. "I don't think we know what it is. He held up the envelope. Maybe this will help."

So they ordered Talisker, neat, and opened the envelope.

Inside, a single sheet of plain paper with a phone number on it and nothing more.

Ellie pulled out her phone to call it, but Alexander stopped her.

"We wait for morning. For business hours. We sleep on this."

For once, Ellie deferred to Alexander's judgment.

* * *

They reconvened the next morning at a neighborhood park. He could feel it was going to be a scorcher, but for now, there was a fresh, cool edge on the morning breeze. He watched the tornado of dogs at their morning play, owners standing in small clusters as the pups chased each other in an endless swirl.

He had never received a response from Jenny, the barista. It might be a lost cause, but he wasn't ready to give up on it yet. There was something about her shy smile that felt so much more real than any of the madness unfolding in his life.

He was trying to decide between a rooftop in Williamsburg, romantic, but maybe a little too showy, and a hip spot in Bushwick which probably wasn't hip anymore, but it might still be more quirky and interesting than some drab rooftop that looked better in photos than real life.

Ellie dropped in beside him.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Planning my date."

"What the fuck do you want a date for? With all this going on?"

"She's cute. I've been getting my coffee and thinking this girl is cute for about as long as I've been getting my beers from you and thinking you're a shameless tease."

"I get better tips than she does."

"I have absolutely no doubt. Of course beer is more expensive than coffee."

"Barely."

"Speaking of which, don't you have work today?"

"Yeah, but not 'til after noon. We're going to call this number first, find out what the deal is, and then I'll decide whether I want to be your manager or not, and if so, what our next move is."

"If yesterday didn't scare you off, I don't know what difference calling this number will do."

"ROI, my friend. Risk and Reward. So far I have invested only a little, but can see that there are some big risks. However, for the right reward, for the right return, it could be worth it."

"You are a mercenary, El."

Ellie looked pleased.

"One thing before I make the call," she said. "You're going to have to remind me of your last name."

"Othonos."

"Oh, yeah, I've seen that running your card. Sounds Greek."

"It should be. Greek on my dad's side, Italian on my mom's."

"Italian stallion. Ok, loverboy, let's get this guy on the phone."

Alexander was happy to have her make the call. It gave him a sense of distance from the matter, and he was not yet sure he wanted to be part of it.

Ellie: "Yes, hello, I am calling on behalf of Alexander Othonos."

Ellie: "I am Mr. Othonos' designated agent in this matter."

Ellie: "In that case, please call back in twenty minutes, this number is fine, I'll try to clear some space in his schedule."

She hung up.

"She will only speak to you."

"Why not just hand me the phone?"

"It's all about the game, dude. Power trip stuff. You had coffee yet?"

"I'm not taking you to see Jenny."

"Jenny. What a boring name. But anyway, there's a cafe across the park. Nothing fancy, but I know how you like baristas and this one's juicy!"

* * *

A tall Jamaican woman with bright orange eyeshadow, a cascade of tightly braided hair shot through with tight threads of crimson and cobalt. Her cleavage was awe inspiring. She pulled their espresso and handed over the coffee with a shy wink at Ellie.

They took their coffee out to a rickety table on the sidewalk.

"Have you slept with her?" Alexander asked.

"A lady doesn't tell," Ellie said smugly.

"You could get lost between those boobs."

"Maybe

you

could. I know my way around."

When the phone rang, Ellie let it go for a few rings then picked it up. "Mr. Othonos' office, how can I help you?"

A garbage truck roared by, marring the effect she was trying to accomplish.

"Ah, thank you for returning the call. Please hold."

She paused the call. "Try not to sound like too much of an idiot," she told him, handing him her cell.

"This is Alexander Othonos," Alexander said, unpausing the call.

A woman's voice on the other side of the line said: "Alexander. You have met with Ms. Crowther, I presume?"

"I have."

"Excellent. Please come to our offices to complete the formalities."

"Sure. I mean, certainly. Where is your office, and what's a good time?"

Ellie was closing her eyes in mock pain.

"This afternoon at two. I'll text the address to your number. Come alone, please."

The line disconnected.

"Two today, I'm to come alone," Alexander said. He wasn't sure if he was concerned or relieved.

"No way. You need your manager present. You will definitely fuck this up."

Alexander kind of agreed. But... "She was very clear. Come alone."

"You know in the movies, when the bad guys say, 'come alone'? It's so they can murder the hero with minimal fuss. Does the hero ever go alone?"

"Sometimes. Mel Gibson usually would."

"You should have backup."

"It's not a movie. These aren't bad guys. If they wanted to kill me, Vanessa probably would have done that yesterday, don't you think?"

* * *

And so he sat with his thumb under the edge of the envelope, no sound but the HVAC whisper, the city baking outside tempered, mirrored glass.

He opened it.

There was one sheet of cream linen paper, typed and signed in thick, black ink.

Dear Alexander,

By this point you will have survived your initial encounter with the Eye. That's not a given, but if you are reading this then it's a fact. If you are like me, like most of us, you will have made some mistakes by now.

Trust me, it couldn't have gone any other way.

We can't speak of the Eye to others. Not "shouldn't." Can't. Except in this one way, in written word to our designated heir.

But now you are here. Another of the tribe has accepted your control over the Eye.

You may conclude this is a blessing, or ultimately -- as it was for me -- you may find it a curse.

Here's what I can tell you. Every time you use the Eye, it will stain you and poison those around you. It does not matter how noble your intentions are. It's with you for life.

There are eight (known) Eyes. You have one. As I write this, I know where six of them are. Two are rogue. Beyond the Eight, Four more have been rumored in ancient texts. I have spent considerable time learning ancient languages and exploring private libraries for "lost" works that might have clues. Whether those four exist or not, I cannot say for certain. No one can possess (or be possessed by) more than one, so the question is largely academic.

Each Eye confers different powers. You may have figured that out already. But the Eye is even more than it seems. The world is more than it seems, Alexander. Much more. And you will gradually become aware of that in all its splendor and all it its terror.

That's the good news. The bad news: your probationary period begins with the receipt of this letter.

Good luck.

(Julius Soccorso)

Alexander folded the letter back along its creases, and tucked it back into the envelope. He sat in silence for a while.

When he stood, Grace waved him over.

"Please, come this way."

Alexander stepped into a wood paneled office. A tall, stone-bald black man in a dark gray suit stepped forward.

"Alexander Othonos: welcome. My name is Colborne. Please set your things on the desk."

Alexander cocked his head. "What?"

"Hopefully Julius made it clear that you are entering into your probationary period. We have taken care of your apartment, so if you will just leave your wallet, phone, and keys on the desk."

"What do you mean, taken care of my apartment?"

"Ah, perhaps Julius was not clear. You have thirty days to demonstrate your... shall we say... mastery. You will begin with nothing. You will walk out of here with nothing. And if, at the end of thirty days, you are able to demonstrate your ability to... handle yourself... then your probationary period will be complete and Julius' faith in you will be proven."

"Nothing?"

Colborne shrugged. "You may keep the clothes you are wearing. You may keep Julius' letter. But if you don't mind my saying so, you were starting with near to nothing in any case. There is not much lost. In fact, since we will take care of your current debts, you might say you are coming out ahead as of this moment. Nonetheless, the ritual is simple and quite ancient. You leave with nothing. In thirty days, we hope to find you in good health."

"Ah, no, I don't think I'll be playing this game," Alexander said. "Step back behind your desk."

Colborne offered a tight smile. He did not move.

"It's good to see you... practicing. However, I think you will find it best if

you

follow

my

instructions at this juncture."

Dammit

, Alexander thought. A strange anger rose within him. A sudden flush of fury. It was not a sensation Alexander was accustomed to.

But Colborne was an imposing figure, and Alexander wasn't sure what else he might expect on this 43rd floor. He imagined some kind of swat team around the corners.

He put his wallet on the desk. No loss there. He put his keys on the desk, quietly inventorying everything in his apartment he might miss.

"And your phone, please."

"Ah, not the phone. I have-"

"The phone, also. You must understand, Alexander, this is an ancient and important rite of passage. Please, set all your things on the desk."

Alexander reluctantly put his phone on the desk.

"What next?"

"You leave. See you in a month."

Colborne swept his things into a small box, as if he preferred not to touch them.

"Right this way, Mr. Othonos." The woman had been standing in the doorway the whole time.

Dazed, Alexander followed her out.

Once the door closed Colburne away behind them, she smiled prettily at him. "I just want to say congratulations. I am sure your month will be a breeze and we'll see you again soon."

Deep red lips, extraordinary pale skin, gleaming dark eyes. Alexandered wondered if he could... maybe he should... no.

Best just get out of here.

Felt like it wasn't the first time he had this thought.

A minute later he stepped out into the noise and heat of Pearl Street.

He walked the couple of blocks to Battery Park, sat on a low stone wall, and watched a snake handler posing with tourists for photos.

He took the letter out, and re-read it. And read it again.

* * *

He walked into Shenanigans. Although not strongly air conditioned, the bar had the cool, shady feeling that bars seem to on hot afternoons. A few people were in at the center of the bar, idly tracking a soccer match.

"Looks like things went about as well as I predicted," Ellie said, pouring him a pint.

"Possibly worse," he answered. "But I don't want to talk about it here. When's your shift end today?"

"Thought you had your big date tonight."

"Fuuuuck. Yeah. Maybe. No. Maybe."

Alexander felt another cold rush of unaccustomed fury.

Who were they to mess up my life like this!?

"

"Look," Ellie said. "You didn't take me with you, you screwed things up, I have shit to do. I've had some time to think about all this, and I'm not sure I want to be mixed up in it. Maybe you should see if sweet little Jenny wants to be your manager, or maybe sidekick. You want to talk, meet me at the dog park tomorrow. This beer's on me," she said sliding it to him. "But don't use your superpowers here. Have a good date."

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Alexander no longer wanted the beer, or to be in this grimy dive bar.

He started walking. Half a block away a man leapt out of a car.

"There you are, you piece of shit," he said. "I knew you'd be back around here."

Dammit.

"What's your fucking problem, then?"

He was trying to place the man. He had a familiar look. Bill, Bob, John... Tom. Monica's Tom. His very first "victim."

Tom was looking disheveled. Heated.

"Listen. I need to talk to you."

Alexander thought about running. He could probably outrun this guy. But that cold anger was still in his veins.

He shrugged. "About what, then?"

"About what you did."

"Annnnd.... What did I do?"

"Well, I don't know. But I want you to undo it."

Alexander replayed his time with Monica in his mind. He didn't think he could undo forcing Monica to climax all over his cock against her will.

"For the record, I have no fucking idea what you're talking about."

Tom didn't seem to buy it. He was talking, almost compulsively. "At first I thought you hurt her in some way, some way she wouldn't talk about. There was something in her eyes. If I had found you that first day or two, I was going to kill you, quite honestly. I figured I could hire someone to put you down. And maybe I will. But more important than that, I want you to put her back the way she was."

"I don't know who you are. I don't know who she is. I don't know what you want."

A flicker of doubt crossed Tom's face. But he hardened himself against it.

"Don't fuck with me, kid."

"I'm not a kid. I'm an out of work line cook, unpublished poet, and, it looks like, recently homeless. I am a pretty pathetic case, to be honest. I could help you peel potatoes, and that's about the extent of it."

He realized he was wearing his best outfit. Now, maybe, his only outfit. Between that and his pretty suave new haircut, he realized he probably didn't look very homeless.

Tom went on. "Here's what I know. I know you were at that bar we stopped into the other day. I know you told me to go home and check on my kid, which I did, not understanding why I was doing it. I know when Monica came home later, there was something different about her. Something very, very different about her. But she wouldn't, or couldn't say what. And... she has been different."

"Ok. I think I remember you from the bar. I don't remember telling you to do anything. I don't know why you would do anything I would tell you to do. Nobody else does."

He was playing the fool, but he was also enjoying the memory of Monica slurping around his cock, moaning with her pleasure and her craving. He even felt himself twitch and swell at the memory.

"Just tell me, is it some kind of blackmail? What's going on? Is it money you're after? Is there something about Monica I need to know?"

Alexander perked up. Money was in short supply right now. "Still don't know what you're talking about." He put a little command into it. "You have to believe me, Tom."

Tom looked crestfallen. "Dammit, I could have sworn it was you."

"Well, now you realize there's been a mistake, tell me what's on your mind, Tom. What seems to be the problem?"

Tom leaned back against his car.

"She's insatiable. It's all she cares about. She's not taking good care of Emmy. Nothing seems to matter to her anymore. Except... well, she's suddenly shown an enthusiasm for... giving head, I guess. It's like she gets off on it more than I do. She has never willingly done that at all, ever. So I knew instantly something was up. The first night I thought maybe she had cheated on me, was making up to me for something I didn't know about. But as things have progressed... there's something wrong with her. I just want her back. I want my friend, my partner, my wife back. I want her to look at Emmy in that way she always did, like she was looking at the most precious and beautiful thing in the world. Now she just gets on her knees, begging for... and she's cheerful. Completely cheerful. In this creepy way."

"Never heard a man complain about his wife wanting to suck his cock before," Alexander said.

Tom looked at him sadly. "I mean, yeah, maybe I had some fantasies, maybe it could have been better in that department. But... not like this. There's so much more to a good life than this. And I am afraid of where it's going."

"Well, shall we go talk to her? Maybe having someone else there will help get it out in the open. Like, uh, therapy."

Alexander had only a vague understanding of what would happen in therapy. He was pretty sure he didn't qualify for the role of therapist.

Tom looked at him with a hardening expression.

Alexander immediately followed up. "It's perfectly normal. I'm not the right guy, but maybe I can help. You don't have any worries or concerns. All your concerns are baseless. All your worries fall away now. It's just a phase she's going through. Just a mood swing. I'm sure it will get back to normal soon. You will be happy to let me help. You feel good about this. You won't tell anyone else about this, it's too embarrassing to have made this mistake. You won't tell or communicate about this to anyone. You feel good about it. Do you understand? Answer honestly."

Tom just looked confused now. "Yeah, ok, I think so."

"Perfect, you drive, and let's just go talk to ... Melissa?"

"Monica."

"You know I'm not involved in this in any way, but since fate brought us together, I'll see if there's any way I can help."