Super Born: Seduction of Being (36 page)

I forced out a satisfied belch,
picked up my pen, and reviewed the handwritten list of the men I
wanted for the job. I checked them one by one, paused, and then
added two more names to the bottom of the list. “Gotta have Ricky
and Crazy Eyes, whatever the hell that putz’s real name is,” I
thought. I reviewed the satellite photo of the apartment building
on my computer screen and checked it against the sketch I had made
on my pad.
Shoulda been a freakin’
artist,
I thought. Content, I leaned back
in my chair and took a long pull from my beer.

I stared at the ceiling while I gently rocked
in my chair. In my head, I reviewed the report I had received from
the man who had been watching the apartment. He’d seen a blond
woman outside the apartment assaulting a man in a car nearby. He
then reported the same woman slipping into a car with the
journalist just before he left, who’d returned with arms full of
bags. The man reported how unusual that was. “Most of the time,
this guy comes home with a bag of takeout and a twelve-pack of
beer. The bags from a linens store tell me he’s got a
guest.”

Confident in the intelligence my guys had
obtained, I finished my beer and played a game of B.I.B. Rescue—a
sarcastic one, since rescuing the bitch was the last thing on my
mind. I ended the game squashed by a beer truck—figures!—then typed
in the address for my favorite porn site.

* * *

At 3:00 a.m. the droning of the TV can get
annoying. I lay back in the corner of the sofa, barely hearing the
commercial that was trying to sell me something or another. My hand
still held the beer bottle I’d been holding when I fell asleep—I’d
let it turn horizontal, spilling most of it. Rebecca lay asleep on
my lap, her body feeling like the Sahara…at noon…in August…the
fifteenth. The Super Born all seemed to run a lot hotter than the
rest of us.

Without giving my actions any thought, as I
often did, I began lightly running my hands through her hair.I had
become convinced that she was not a killer, a schemer, or a liar.
Rebecca seemed like a genuinely frightened girl, who just happened
to be able to run machines with her thoughts and ate pizza with a
fork. The more I was with her, the more I believed her
story.

If that were true, though, I had to face the
fact that I could not protect her. How could I help her if armed
men suddenly found her, if Jennifer Lowe suddenly walked through
the door? What could I do, throw a beer bottle at them? (An empty
one, of course.) No one who had ever counted on me had been
rewarded for it.

I took the last sip from my beer—which I’d
somehow managed not to spill—and sighed, looking down at Rebecca.
She seemed comfortable, contented. Yet, was she safe? Did she know
the person in whom she had placed her confidence had managed to
disappoint every woman he’d even been with, going back to Suzen in
kindergarden? That was another question that I pondered for a
minute, then dropped and decided to just get on with my
life.

Just then, Rebecca stirred but did not awaken.
I felt a pulse of heat leave her body—the laptop and TV turned
themselves off, and all the door locks and window latches in the
apartment clicked shut.

* * *

Being Jennifer Lowe isn’t as easy as you would
think. I was having a late night—a late, lonely, frustrating night.
All my powers, all my money, all the planning, and still, I
couldn’t find one stinking woman: the B.I.B. And now Rebecca would
have to be dealt with, abandoning me when I needed her most, that
little bitch. Dealing with all these small minds every day could
really suck. Why couldn’t they just listen and keep up with me?
Sometimes I hated these powers. Life had been so much easier before
they came and screwed up my life. Of course, the depression, drugs,
and suicidal tendencies hadn’t exactly been a picnic
either..

The lounge was nearly empty and slowly putting
itself to bed. Recorded jazz played quietly in the background. In
between glances at me, the bartender began cleaning up. Who could
blame him for his quick looks? But I could tell there would be no
satisfaction at all from him. He wouldn’t last a minute. I was
after more challenging prey.

I sat at the bar nursing a pink martini while
the net of my tight, low-cut dress trawled the waters of the lounge
around me. A few seconds later, two small fish took notice. The two
young executives were clearly not far removed from college, but, by
the look of their expensive new suits, now had high incomes to
enjoy. I knew the type: these boys had outgrown their little co-ed
girls, and were ready for a real woman now—a woman in her thirties,
in her sexual prime. Their success had made them out grow the co-ed
girls of their college days and centered their interest on ‘real’
women. A woman in the sexual prime of her thirties was just the
ticket. A woman who really knew what she was doing.

The confident, blond-haired one stared at me,
as if he were planning to test drive his first Ferrari. His
dark-haired companion just whispered and giggled, not as far
removed from his college antics. They spoke softly knowing a normal
woman would never be able to hear, but I had waved good-bye to
normal a long time ago. “So? Are you gonna talk with her?” the dark
haired one prodded his friend.

The blond ignored his friend watched as one
shoulder strap of my dress began a slow, “accidental” slide down my
shoulder. That did it. He finished his drink in one swallow, then
stood up. “Let’s go. You and me, numb nuts, bet she does both of
us.”

“
Hey, man, I ain’t no
freak.”

The blond thought for a moment, then a
disgusted sneer came to his lips. “Oh, no, not a threesome. I’ll do
her, then she’ll do you. Tits like that, I’ll bet she could do the
entire Atlantic fleet.”

The dark-haired one had no idea what
that really meant, as it was devoid of any logic, but it contained
the word
tits
and
implied that he was about to get lucky, so he smiled. “Okay,” he
said, rising and following his friend. But a few steps into my net,
he stopped his blond friend with an arm on the shoulder. “What if
she’s married, man? Then what?”

The blond smiled and slid his friend’s hand off
his shoulder. “Do I look like I give a fuck?” The blond smiled
confidently then turned and marched up to his new Ferrari, keys in
hand, while his friend watched.

When I turned and reeled the blond in with my
usual smile, the other man smiled too and joined him in the net. I
could feel the billions of fingers of energy hopefully beginning to
form on the surface of my skin, eager to find a connection in this
doubtful pair.

I thought of Logan and the B.I.B. I
could sense his connection to her in the way he acted—hell, the
very way he lived and breathed.
The
friggin’ B.I.B. memorial website,
I thought
bitterly. I was twice the woman she was. I tried to imagine how it
would feel to release all this energy inside of me. What connection
did I lack that had turned me into this miserable, frustrated
sexual predator?

Maybe Logan was the answer. With the B.I.B. out
of the way and her mark removed, he could free me. I thought about
it; hell, I fantasized about it as I rubbed my hand down along the
inside of my thigh as I led these two little fish off to my
room.

Chapter 30

We’re Blown

When I woke up the next morning, I was still
backed into the corner of the sofa, but Rebecca was gone, leaving
only a warm pillow on my lap and a handwritten note on my chest. I
widened, then squinted my eyes to focus on the letters she had
penned. It was too short to be a recipe for world peace, too long
for my mother’s lasagna. Finally, I put together that this was a
shopping list for things Rebecca needed; it seemed she was planning
to move in.

I battled briefly with the thought of how this
chick was suddenly dominating my life, but part of it felt right.
It was good to be of value to someone, and not just a fuck up.
Besides, the apartment looked great, and it’s easier to mess up
something that’s clean.

I leapt to my feet like a panther—a constipated
one, or maybe an old one with a bad knee, but a panther
nonetheless—to see my laptop on the dining room table flashing the
B.I.B. website. The site appeared to be updating itself, but I knew
it was Rebecca doing her thing. (So much for changing the site’s
passwords.) Through the closed bathroom door came the sounds of
water falling, then gurgling as it drained in the shower. Rebecca
was the ideal of a multitasker: showering, updating the website,
and probably fixing a communication satellite, all while she
brushed her teeth and emailed the president.

For a lifelong letch, it was surprising that I
had no desire to take a peek beyond the bathroom door. Even so, I
could see the large amount of steam coming out from around the
bathroom door. I guessed that Super Born heat made even a shower
challenging.

I ran my hand through my hopeless hair and
pretended that would put it all in place. As I grabbed my keys, I
found the vision of a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast on my kitchen
counter. There was another note; apparently, Rebecca was a “noter.”
It read, “For you, my hero. Coffee is in the pot.”

I have a pot?
I wondered.
This chick
thing’s not all bad.
By the time I
discovered a pot of freshly brewed coffee, right on my kitchen
counter the plate was empty save crumbs. I tossed it in the sink
and found a cup, sugar bowl, and spoon awaiting me. Sweet. As I
poured the cup and turned to leave, the garbage disposal came to
life for a second, as did the dishwasher
.
After a quick, ‘what the hell’ I
realized
the Princess wanted to speak with
me

I tapped on the bathroom door. “I’m gonna go
get your stuff. Be back soon.”

“
Okay,” she yelled. “Thanks, Be
careful.”

“
Don’t let anybody in.”

“
Duh!”

* * *

I hip hopped to my car, still enjoying the
memory of breakfast. It was a different experience for me, as I
usually started my day with nothing more than the hang-on taste of
beer in my mouth.

I pulled out into the road, and smiled when I
identified a dark-colored sedan pull out after me. That turned
quickly to an open-mouthed frown when a second car with two men in
it began following both of us. Who were these guys? Were they
doubling up on me?

Rebecca’s list was not long, so I made no
attempt to hide from them and did my shopping, plus a donut—okay,
two. I bought one for Rebecca as well (it just didn’t make it to
Rebecca, that’s all).

When I returned, I watched in the mirror as
one, then two, cars parked down the road after me. When a black SUV
took its turn parking behind the first two. I hurried into the
apartment. I set the bags down on the kitchen counter and snuck a
peek around the closed drapes in the living room window. On the
street on the other side of the apartment was another black SUV
with tinted windows just like the first I had seen.

Rebecca came in—by now, her hair and makeup
were done, so she distracted my eye from the window for a moment.
“What’s up?” she asked, moving up behind me. She smelled great, and
the petite but noticeable cushions of her breasts teased into my
back. I’m sure it was unintentional, but why do chicks always do
that? Don’t they have any idea what string of thoughts and events
that little maneuver starts in a guy?

“
I’m not sure. It looks like
there’re three or four cars out there watching us.”

“
Think they know I’m here?” she said
in a whisper.

“
Could be that. But it could be
they’re after me to tell them where the B.I.B. is. Either way,
something is going to happen. Is there anywhere else you can
go?”

“
I have a friend…”

“
No friends, no relatives, no one
they can trace.”

Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t want to leave
you alone. They could kill you.”

“
Killing both of us appeals to you
more? No, I’m gonna get you out of here. We’ll wait till tonight.
I’m gonna sneak you out through the basement.”

“
We both should go. You can’t do any
good here anymore.”

She didn’t convince me. “Pack your stuff. We’ll
leave when it’s dark.” “And to think, I even bought new
sheets.”

Chapter 31

She’s Not the B.I.B.

I watched the comings and goings through the
windows all day. When the sun was gone, I gathered as much cash as
I could find. (One bit of helpful advice: don’t hide cash when
you’re drunk. You’ll never remember where it is.) I dressed us both
in the darkest clothes I could find and gathered her stuff in a bag
I used whenever I went to the gym. (That being the case, the bag
was new and unused.) The hall led to the basement, which had a door
I’d never used—I wasn’t even sure it would open. It was hidden by
brush outside, though, so if it did open, I figured it would give
us a good escape portal.

“
Let’s go,” I said to
Rebecca.

I guess I should have kept an eye out the front
window, because the instant I opened the door and stuck my head
out, I was greeted by three men in black. Then three more appeared
down the apartment hall behind them. Not one had a pleasant look on
his face. Each slung a compact but mean-looking assault rifle slung
over his shoulder, hanging down at his waist, and pointing at
me.