The Other One

   I just couldn’t confront what I had done. The morning I woke up there, I felt wrong, guilty and even filthy. I wanted to leave that place so fast and never return again. How should I have know that only days later I would have to go back there, practically against my will.

 There was no need to say “goodbye” to him. After all, we didn’t really know each other that well or, at least, that’s what I prefer to think. I never let anyone too close and I have my reasons for that. No, I have no idea who he really is and I’m not interested in finding out more than I already know, more than I have too.

 You see, we were celebrating our promotions with other people of the office. We went to his place because it seemed cheaper to buy some bottles from the store and go there and have a great time. And we did. I hadn’t been that happy for a long time and I fucking deserved that promotion. I had worked hard and so had he and Laura, my best friend there. The three of us had been in charge of a certain project and we had done so great that our boss decided to grant us a very well deserved promotion. We would make more money and we would have nice new offices.

 Almost everyone was happy for us because they knew how hard it had been for us to have the job and then to be good and make such a project a big reality. We were admired and that’s why many people came to Joe’s place. Of course, it was free booze and we ordered some pizzas and I even made some cookies, already a bit tipsy. Lots of cinnamon in them... We had a blast but something that I hadn’t realized happened in a second, in blinking of an eye.

 I had gone to clean my hands after spilling some vodka on the floor and cleaning it. I had been looking at the mirror, any trace of alcohol apparently retreating, when I realized the door was half open and there he was. Joe I mean. He asked me if I was ok and I nodded and told him I was having a great time and that I felt sorry for spilling vodka. He seemed shy or distant, jus strange because he had never really been shy during our work together. And we had stayed up late in the office. He even took me home sometimes.

 But then, in that bathroom, there was a tension only broken by a girl who entered in haste and decided to vomit too close to my shoes. I jumped back just in time to retire from the “splash zone” and decided to rejoin the party, forgetting about my encounter with Joe. Well, until the party ended that is. Laura, her boyfriend and I stayed behind to help Joe clean up the place. When there were only glasses to throw and small things to put in place, Laura and her boyfriend left.

 As I cleaned up with Joe, there was this awful silence. It was even more ominous because there was no sound from the street, being three o’clock of the morning. Not a single soul walked the street below and I started talking to him about that, how empty and lonely the city looked when you stayed up until late. He agreed, saying it was worse in the suburbs, whereas in downtown or other commercial areas people were still roaming around. We talked about different things and decided to have one last drink. We both consumed it fast and, as I recuperated from the strength of the beverage, I realized he had his hands on my waist.

 Needless to say that we kissed and I didn’t resist. I hadn’t had any physical contact of that kind with anyone for years and I wasn’t going to refuse any act of kindness towards my body. Some minutes later we were in his room and we had sex. I was about to say we made love but that’s impossible, because I wasn’t in love with him. As I said before, I barely knew him. What I can say is I had a great time with him in that room because, never mind the alcohol, I can still remember every thing that happened.

 I felt guilty the following morning, very early, because I realized something I had forgotten the night before: Joe was engaged. She worked in the company but in another department. I had seen her a couple of times: stunning body, nice face, very kind and joyful. Joyful is not my kind of thing but it looked good on her. She was a knockout and I had heard many guys in the office had tried to date her prior to Joe but that was long before I had begun my work there.

 My pants were on the floor, my underwear on a chair, my socks in my shoes… Once I had everything on and my cellphone and backpack, I just left trying to be as silent as a mouse. I couldn’t look, for some reason, to the doorman to the face. He greeted me but I felt he knew, somehow. I felt the same thing all the way home, on the bus and on the sidewalk, just walking before finally entering my place, where my cat awaited me because he was very hungry.

 I fed him and decided to sleep properly after that. Sleep came fast and so did dreams in which I met Joe again and kissed him passionately in front of his girlfriend. In the dream, she just accepted it and left without saying a word. I woke up even more tired that I had been at arrival. Thank God it’s Saturday, I thought. I decided to stay in my home and just eat and watch TV. No one interrupted me, except Laura that called me to know if I had gotten home all right. Laura had been my friend of many years and the one that got me the job. I owe honesty to her.

 She was surprised at me but even more surprised at Joe. Everyone knew the news that he was going to marry the gorgeous girl of the office and the fact that Laura reminded me of that was awful. She then questioned Joe harshly, stating that if he was sleeping with others, it surely meant he had done it before with other girlfriends and that he was not “husband” material, despite what everyone thought.

 I let her speak. She didn’t stop for a long time and I didn’t say a word. She’s right about it all. But then I recall the way he touched and kissed me. I have had one-night stands before and I know how they go down. People are just sexual in those moments, like animals. But Joe had not been like that with me. Or so I felt… Maybe I was just trying to think about it in a good light instead of really remembering it for what it was. Maybe I’m just too eager to be the one they stay with instead being the one they sleep with.

After hanging up with Laura, I recalled my history of casual sex and concluded that, without a doubt, there was something unique about this time. I had never stayed behind to sleep, which had been a first. Although the alcohol might have knocked me out before I could even think about leaving. But that wasn’t a fair statement because almost every time I had had casual sex, I had done it with alcohol involved. It was making me crazy, for sure. Thinking about him and about his perfect girlfriend. I decided, for the sake of my mind, to stop thinking about it. Or at least, I tried.

 The next Monday was a nightmare. I felt all eyes on me, even when people were just coming to me to congratulate me about the new job. Even my boss thought I hadn’t liked the new office, my face all sad and dreary. I really tried to fake happiness a bit during lunch but that was a tremendous failure and even Laura was looking at me every time, like checking if I was going to screw up.

The hardest part was meeting Joe in a conference room and talking to him for an hour about our next project. If he had any worries, he was very good at faking them because he looked very relaxed all the time, even laughing, telling some jokes and looking at me directly into my eyes, which felt awful. It was the guilt, for sure, that grew even larger when his girlfriend opened the door at the end of the meeting and kissed him on the lips.

 Suddenly I felt so jealous of her. I hated her right there. I could have put my hand around her neck and choke her or at least grab that beautiful glossy hair and pull it hard all around the room. But all that only happened in my head. I left with Laura and she grabbed my hand. Visibly, she knew that he hadn’t gotten to me. Or maybe it wasn’t him as such but the fact that someone had being so nice to me, even if it had been only sexually, and know that possibility vanished.

 I decided not to let that get the best of me. The next day I decided to focus on my career and in honoring my new post in the office. From day one, I was on top of everything and people noticed it and suddenly I stopped thinking about Joe. I even dated a couple of guys after that, none successful relationships but nice people so I didn’t care. It was a surprise however when, the day Joe and the girl were suppose to get married, he called me and acknowledged all that had happened that night. And then he said the most hurtful word I’ve ever heard.

-       I still think about you.

Over the lights

The young guy was there, just looking through the window, sitting on the edge of the frame. He was looking somewhere beyond the buildings, the streets, the people and their noise. It seemed he was looking at something that wasn't there or he maybe even not really looking, just wondering.

 - Sorry. - I said.

I put the papers I had been asked to look for on the desk. The boy immediately turned around and looked directly into my eyes. For lack of a better word, they were mesmerizing: not blue or green or honey colored. They were brown but somehow they were so much more special than any other brown eyes I had ever seen.

He smiled at me and turned his head again, returning to his wondering beyond this place, in which he obviously had no intention to stay. For me, it wasn't clear why he was there but my boss was handling his affairs. He was his attorney and I was the attorney's assistant. Not having come out of law school yet, I was trying to learn what made a lawyer a very good one but as of yet, i had only learned how to make a decent cup of coffee and how to juggle two boxes of donuts and three large lattes.

Then, my boss entered. Ms. Hoffman was a tall, intimidating woman. And to be honest, I was surprised to see her advising such a young guy. He had to be younger than me, I thought. But there he was, all worried. And her, she was in one weird mood. Normally, Ms. Hoffman would be yelling at everyone, asking for things, denying others and then asking for notes and data and so on. But today, she had been in her office all day until he came. And here she was.

 - How have you been, Tony?

So, he's name was Tony. He sat down next to year with me on the other side. They chatted amicably for a while, asking the same superficial things one asks a friend or a close acquaintance. This was extremely strange, as Ms. Hoffman had never really shown interest in any person, not employee or client. But there she was, asking him about his health and work.

For what I could take from the conversation, she had helped him emancipate himself from his family. The guy owned a billion dollar company. You know, one of those young brains of the new generation: they make an app and the next day they are giving money to Bill Gates or something.

He was not a friend of words, speaking only if he had to and not bothering to fake a smile, a thing that Ms. Hoffman was doing. It seemed so odd and unnatural. And, when the meeting passed its first thirty minutes, I started wondering what I was doing there. Besides handling papers from time to time, I was not doing much. She hadn't asked for coffee or some difficult number from ten years ago. She had just demanded me to be there.

Then the meeting was over. They were bidding farewell to each other when Ms Hoffman said:

 - Oh, I almost forgot. This is the guy I told you about. He's perfect for you.

At first, I was not sure I had heard it correctly. I tried to say something but then he looked at me again and all the words melted quickly. He just nodded and said "He'll do fine". Was I been pimped or something similar? Why hadn't she told me anything?

He came out first and she started walking after him but then I recovered my words and asked her what was going on. She only said that now I worked for him and that I should go after him and ask all the details about the new job. She said I could clear my post on the weekend.

So I stood there, for what it felt like ages. I had been laid off but at the same time I had a new job already. Confusing? Of course, but mysterious even more. I rushed after the guy and realized he had taken the elevator already so I had to go into a crowded one. When I finally arrived to the ground floor, I rushed out only to see the young man smirking, waiting leaning on a black car.

 - Get in, guy.

He got in and then I followed. It wasn't a limousine or anything but the car was beautiful inside and out and the chauffeur didn't spoke a word. Apparently, he knew the schedule by heart. He started to drive and then I noticed the young guy was looking at me.

 - Name?

For a second I doubted but then I finally spoke.

 - Ellar Ramsay.

 - Good. Call me Tony.

I nodded. Then shut up again. I had no idea what to ask or say. As a matter of fact, I didn't even know why I had entered a car without saying something before or asking the destination. I just sat there, looking through the window. If he really was my new boss, he would ask something at some time. Maybe lattes were also his thing.

The car stopped in front of a beautiful building. He asked the chauffeur to park it properly and come back the following day. The man only nodded in response.

When we got, Tony walked in front of me at all times. I just smiled or nodded to people in the building until we were alone in the elevator, taking us up to the thirtieth floor.

 - Did Ellen tell you anything about your job with me?

I nodded negatively.

 - Are you afraid of me?

That was one tough question. Although short and seeming fairly simple, Tony did have something very intimidating about him. His body language, his expressions, that way of looking at nothing, his eyes, ... He was really strange, even more than Ms. Hoffman. At least she was predicable. From this young fellow, no one knew what had to be expected and I suspected he was aware of this feeling he imprinted in people's mind.

 - I see you are. Good but not in your post.

The elevator opened and he stepped out. I followed, but stopped almost immediately: we were obviously at his apartment and it was really nice. It didn't look like one of those rich people's flats; all done by some crazy designer that thinks black is the only color in the world. No, this was a home, full of color and, obviously, feelings.

There were pictures, a lot of them. I saw Tony in some of them. And a man and a woman, probably his parents. I followed him through the living room and then to a corridor. I was sure he was leading me to an office where we would discuss the details of my new post but, once again, I was mistaken. We were in the bedroom.

It was lit by the pale light of sundown and when he switched the lights on, it felt as if the afternoon sun had entered the room. It looked beautiful. So beautiful it was, I had not realized he was taking his clothes off. Again, my words were lost. I saw his shoes, pants, t-shirt and jacket fall to the floor.

 - Pick that up for me, please.

He entered another room, probably the closet, and started singing. I couldn't decipher, or care about, which song it was. I took the clothes and folded them and then put them on his bed. What was I doing? Why was I just doing what he wanted instead of demanding answers or simply leaving?

I then realized I was breathing heavily so I decided to get closer to the window and try to slow myself down, to relax, to get my words back from him. As I calmed down, I saw the city unfold before my eyes, all the car lights and building lit up, all ready for the night. I remembered it was Friday night and I was being expected in a bar.

 - How do I look?

I turned to him and saw he had put on a tuxedo. He looked very sharp, except for the light blue socks he was wearing and his unshaved appearance. I felt him taking over me again but this time, I closed my eyes and spoke.

 - What am I doing in here?

He smiled and got close. For some reason, I shivered. I was scared.

 - Don't be scared. I'm not a maniac or anything. I get a bit crazy often but not really mental.

 - Do I really work for you?

 - Yes, you do.

 - As.... what? A prostitute? I don't...

Again, he smiled but this time I didn't felt threatened but relieved.

 - I do, actually. But that has nothing to do with it. I asked Ellen for a sharp, intelligent guy to be my       assistant. That's you.

What? Assistant? Again?!

 - I know you are her assistant. Or used to be, at least. Now, you are mine anyway. And I need you.

And then he did something I didn't saw coming. He took my hands and squeezed them gently.

 - I need someone I can trust. Someone that knows all of me and me of him. And no, not a                      relationship based on love or sex but on partnership. I own a small empire and I need a guy like you    to help me make it bigger and better.

So many thoughts were rushing into my head. I could even feel the blood going all over my body. I had to speak now but, again, all inside of me was blocked. My head lay low, at the floor. This time, I wasn't blocked because of him but because of the chance given by him to me. I had always wanted to be a lawyer, a great hero defending people from titans trying to steal their lives from them. But this man was asking me to be his shadow, forever probably. And just like that, without any explanation or details.

I raised my head again and looked at him, straight in the eye. When I saw him, I felt a connection. And I was sure I saw him feeling it too.

 - What do you need me for? - I said.

 - Grab me some dark socks and help me shave. I swear it gets better down the road.

Again, he smiled at me with that craftiness, that subtle way he had to get what he wanted by just using his eyes.

The only difference this time was that, without hesitation, I smiled back.

The city's rage

 - Stop harassing me. I know nothing.

That was what Emmy, a boy who sold his body for a living, told officer Amalia Jones. And she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Ever since they had finally found him, everything had turned even darker and more complicated. Having been on the case for almost two years, Amalia knew there was more than the obvious but always thought things would become clearer if they found the boy everyone spoke about. But it wasn't like that.

She had to take a weekend off, with her husband and daughter to clear up her mind and get away from all the darkness of the case but, even there, on the beach, the details hunted her.

Jonas Van Doren had been found dead two years ago, floating on a tub filled with with water tainted with his own blood. The apartment was huge, all done in black and white, with the best furniture and the ultimate sound and video equipments. Neighbors told the police many parties had been held there, as Jonas was the son of a renowned Texas banker. The kids went to school in New York but had only found parties and ultimately death there.

To Amalia, New York was also a death trap. Her grandmother and her second husband had arrived to the city after been freed from a plantation in Georgia and had it hard to cope with. New York was not a plantation, but it was filled with slaves. Her second husband died when shot by a burglar so she raised her children by herself. One of them had been shot down by the police when they mistook him for a robber.

Rich or poor, the city appeared to eat people up everyday and Amalia's family and Jonas had already been consumed. And she suspected Emmy had been too. The only difference was that he had evaded death, who knows how.

During the interview she made to the boy, he proved to be fearless and poignant. He would always answer with an act of defiance, as if he had to defend himself over and over again from every single person around him.

The young Van Doren had copious amounts of drugs in his apartment. If it had been the 1980's, he would have been a Wall Street guy: cocaine, pounds and pounds. Also acids and ecstasy. Amalia was assigned to the case when the police began tracing the drugs, the sellers, the real buyer. And there was the first time they heard of Emmy.

Of course, that wasn't his real name. Emmy stranded for "emerald", a reference that only made sense to the boy, whose real name no one knew, not in the underworld, nor in the "real" one. Everyone knew about it him, though. He was very popular at parties, specially those involving high rollers of the highest pedigree. Politicians, military, even policemen. They would pay for him and his services.

Amalia looked for his real data everywhere but it proved impossible. Every time they would set up a raid to catch him, he would already be somewhere else, probably laughing at the police. It was obvious someone powerful was helping him escape and there was maybe no way to find him if he kept leaping from hiding spot to hiding spot.

Then, after the first year of the murder passed, knew autopsy reports on Jonas revealed something the first person to check his body had missed: he had traces of cocaine all over his body, as if someone had sniffed the powder off of him. It was specially interesting when residue was found on between his butt cheeks and on his penis.

Amalia and the other officers then assumed, quite correctly as other tests proved them right, that Jonas had had sex with someone else just before dying. So they started to check every single man and woman that had ever come to a party hosted by Mr. Van Duren.

It was useless because everyone had had sex with him, or so it seemed. To the family, officer Jones recalled, was devastated to learn that their dear son was a promiscuous drug addict, also prone to gambling. It looked awful for them, his father specially, and they decided never to come back to New York.

And then the investigation stalled. As it was now, Amalia thought, as she saw her husband tucking in their child, She smiled at him, thanking life for giving her the joy of having a family she could be proud of. She kissed her husband hard and passionately, as she felt she needed the infuse herself with all the love she could muster.

They had sex that night, as they hadn't had it for several weeks. And at the end they kissed and hugged to get some sleep but, she didn't. She kept thinking about Emmy. Because it was him who had helped her. Well, not before she had the chance to help him.

When the case stalled, Amalia was asked to survey several parts of the city, tracing the drug dealers that had sold to Van Doren. But one of those night she found Emmy. And he was not a in ugly neighborhood but in front of the Waldorf Astoria. He was coming out of it as Amalia passed by on her patrol car, en route to work.

She recognized him immediately and could see he wasn't feeling well: he seemed to mumble, and couldn't walk straight. As she stopped the car in front of the hotel, Emmy fainted.

Hours later they were in the hospital. Amalia had spoken to the doctor: Emmy had been drugged with a powerful sedative. He had been raped after that. When officer Jones visited the boy in his room, he was awake and looked at her directly to the eyes, as if checking if it was safe to be near her.

 - Who are you?
 - A friend.
 - I don't have any friends.
 - You do now.

They did become friends or, kind of. He stayed at her house and he decided to trust her enough to tell her who had raped him and, more importantly to her, who had sold Jonas the drugs. Yes, he knew him. No surprise, they had had sex. But according to Emmy, they were in love too. It had been him, before they had fallen for each other, that had made the bridge between Jonas and the dealers, dangerous, vicious men.

Amalia captured some of them with help from the FBI but just then, Emmy vanished. That was until now, when he had been recaptured trying to board a flight to Europe. He wanted out but Amalia couldn't afford such a valuable source of information to vanish that simply.

So she had asked questions, harder ones, once and again. But he had only said:

 - I know nothing.

The drug dealers plead guilty or charges of drug dealing and admitted having sold merchandise to Jonas Van Doren. But they said, adamantly, they hadn't killed him. They were actually shocked to hear from his death, as he was one of their best buyers.

After her weekend rest, Amalia came back to the city and demanded to talk to Emmy but he had been freed and he was nowhere to be found. Again, he had vanished and this time, it appeared to be forever.

Amalia arrived to her home that night, sad no to have had a last chance to speak with such a tormented soul. But it was no need. Her husband handed her a letter she had received earlier, with the name Jonas Van Doren in the front.

Inside, there was the most heartbreaking love story she had ever read or heard about. And it's conclusion, was just incredible. As it happens, Jonas and Emmy did love each other but Emmy was too tied to the dealers and they had demanded him to keep pressuring Jonas for more deals and to get them more buyers. Emmy didn't wanted to as he saw the man Jonas was turning into. They had fight over the drug issue, over the fact that Jonas was loosing himself.

The dealers finally made Emmy decide: make them richer or they would kill Jonas. In the letter, he confessed Amalia it had been him who killed Jonas. As a final act of love, he had poisoned him with a painless substance and had laid him in the tub, were they had shared their first kiss after having too much to drink.

Emmy had known the dealers would never settle, so he decided to do the job himself, before them or the drugs. And before killing Jonas, he had promised him never to let him alone, ever.

Weeks later, Amalia heard of the body of a young man found on the Hudson, with his pockets full of stones.