Chapter 5
Running Into Doors
1
Downtown
A completely nude Bliss greeted Crow at the door.
“What is so damned important?” Crow grumbled.
Bliss shrugged and picked up a bowl of cereal from the kitchen counter. She sat on the couch to watch Batman Beyond reruns, oblivious to her nudity.
Crow scowled at the red stripes across the girl's buttocks and thighs and he frowned. “Where’s Annie?” He asked her.
Bliss looked towards the bathroom door.
Crow tapped his knuckle on the door. “Annie?”
“I’m fine, go away,” Annie said. The sounds of his vomiting could be heard clearly through the door.
Crow tried the knob and found it locked. “Hey, you okay?”
Grunts of pain emanated from the bathroom. Annie was trying to say something through his volatile retching.
“Dude, I’m coming in,” Crow said.
“Crow, I swear to God, you come through that door and you’re fired,” Annie managed.
Crow’s hand twisted the knob furiously and he stepped back to kick the door in.
It opened. Annie stood there, white as a ghost, and blood coloring his full lips. He leaned against the doorjamb. “You weren’t about to kick my door in, were you?” Annie drawled.
“You look like shit, man.”
“Thanks,” Annie said and washed his face.
Crow caught sight of small trenches dug into the linoleum alongside the toilet. Annie’s nails.
“You alright?”
“What are you, my fucking mother?” Annie asked as he exited, his eyes narrowed at Bliss. “Go put a fucking robe on, we have company,” Annie said to her.
She put the bowl on the coffee table, and scampered to the bedroom. Annie produced a small yellow envelope from one of the pockets of the black lounge pants he wore. The powder disappeared into her Count Chocula and Annie swirled the spoon in the milk with a small flourish. “Give it a few,” he said and gestured for Crow to join him in the kitchen.
Bliss reentered in a pouty expression and sat cross-legged on the leather sofa. Her golden fingers danced across red silk as she tried to keep her robe closed. She picked the cereal back up and resumed her afternoon snack.
Crow shook his head and followed Annie.
“Do you remember the Violet situation?” Annie asked while concentrating on some gunk in the grout of the tiled counter.
Crow swallowed around his dry mouth. Violet had been “The First.” Annie had discovered the joys of sexual asphyxiation with Violet. One minute too long was all it took. “The First” had been an accident and Crow ended up dumping her body in the
The night Annie called him freaking out, sputtering something about Violet, sex, and “choked her on accident, man,” Crow knew Annie would never be the same. He knew if he helped Annie, he would never be the same himself. Helping Annie that night had left him sick and he had sworn to Annie, it would be the last. Never again would he dispose of another body for him. Neither Annie nor Crow ever mentioned that night again.
Until now.
“What about the Violet situation?” Crow's voice cracked and he blinked hard in self-admonition.
“I need you to deliver something back to the Kraken,” the rock god looked pointedly at him, “but it's delicate. There's a trunk in the guest room closet.”
Crow knew too well which trunk Annie was referring to.
“I need you to fetch it.”
“You fetch it, I’m not your bitch,” Crow said and then felt immediately guilty. Annie wouldn’t have the strength to wheel in a trunk. He barely had the strength to stand.
Annie only raised a tired brow.
Crow looked at his feet and contemplated telling Annie he wouldn't do anymore of his dirty work. With great self-loathing, he felt his feet moving towards the guestroom.
The large steamer trunk was in the far back of the closet. It was covered in distressed brown leather, a wardrobe on wheels. He rolled it into the living room where Annie was waiting.
Bliss didn't even notice, having finished her cereal, she lay down on the couch to watch the rest of her cartoon. Annie patted the couch and motioned Crow to join them. They watched the rest of the cartoon like that, Annie and Bliss watching the screen, and Crow watching Bliss.
After awhile, Bliss curled up on the sofa and began snoring softly. Annie scooted closer to her, held her wrist up high, and dropped it with a slight slap on the leather. He removed her kimono, and tossed it on the coffee table next to the empty cereal bowl.
Crow moved to feel for her pulse, and Annie brushed him away. “She's fine.”
Crow laid the trunk down on it's back and opened the combination lock,
Violet's perfume filled the room, causing Crow to run for the bathroom and lose the bread pudding. Violent Violet, he killed our Violent Violet. He looked peaked when he returned to the room.
“Are you fucking finished?” Annie said. Crow nodded his head.
Annie grabbed Bliss under her arms and Crow got her under her knees. They moved her to the trunk and tucked her in, filling the spaces around her with pillows. They closed the trunk and Crow lifted it upright, feeling her weight shift inside.
Annie handed him a roll of hundreds and told him to keep the whole thing for himself this time. “Back to the Kraken.”
Crow sighed and rolled her out.
“Crow, only Dr. Vandenheuval handles this trunk, do you understand?”
Crow looked away.
“Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Crow wheeled her out into the hallway and waited for the elevator.
The doors slid open and a woman with black hair and impossibly red lips stood inside. She gasped in surprise when she saw him. Crow could see his reflection in her large black sunglasses. She stepped off and Crow stared at her curiously as Annie’s penthouse was the only apartment on the entire top floor.
She stared at Crow intently and her fingers fluttered to a pendant she wore about her throat, a gold scroll.
“Mr. Bishop,” she said and continued down the hall.
Crow stared after her until the elevator doors slipped closed.
2
“Great,” Calliope said while digging through her purse and steering the Porsche at the same time, with no great talent. She gave her sister a “you-fucked-up” look. One Clio was acclimatized to by now.
“What are you looking at me like that for? It was your boyfriend who called him.”
“I'm never going to get to see that damned harpsichord.”
They were in Calliope's midnight blue Boxster. Her eyebrows rose over a pair of cat-eye shades as she turned towards her sister.
“Patience is a virtue...” Clio tried to remind her.
“Patience is a Christian virtue,” Calliope retaliated and screwed up her face in disdain.
Clio brought a pale hand to her forehead, she felt the beginnings of a headache, and knew her sister would not drop this. Calli had all night to think about that damned spinet and was worked up about it now. “He promised he'd take us later.”
“Can't you remember where she lived?” Calliope finally found the bottle she had been digging for and deftly whipped the childproof cap off with one hand. She popped the Vicodin in her mouth and swallowed it dry, chasing it with a swig of her water bottle.
“We are not going over there without Crow. You can wait.”
The sisters glared at each other in a battle of wills and settled into a heavy, brooding silence.
They pulled around the back of the
3
Kraken Bioresearch
Bliss awoke and blinked at her surroundings. Gone was Annie's downtown apartment and in its place was a hospital room. She couldn't tell why she felt stiff and tried to turn her head to see if anyone was there. Starched sheets rubbed the scratches on her back as she struggled to sit up. A tube ran into her nose and down her throat, she wanted to gag it out, but couldn't.
The tiled floor was white, the bed was white, the counters along the wall were white, the only thing that wasn't white was the chrome of instruments and the electronic equipment, but they were still housed in white. The thrumming of the machines and a soft beep in the background were the only sounds to keep her company.
No windows graced the room, and no TV, either, which she thought of as a bad omen. Every hospital room she had awoken in had at least a TV. She suddenly became worried they had called her father. The father she hadn't spoken to since she had ran from him four years ago when she twelve years old.
Her wrists were tethered to the sides of the bed and her head was held in place by a leather strap. She had heard about the dreaded “PSYCH WARD,” where they put bad girls who took too many pills.
With her heart slamming in her throat, she wondered if Annie had brought her here. She didn't want to think of him that way.
Bliss wanted to be “The Girlfriend,” and she would be if it weren't for Calliope. After all, he had played with her and made love to her. True, he had put her through some excruciating pain while doing it, but had her father treated her any differently? It was how men in Bliss's life showed their love, instead of her father's fists and belts, Annie had used paddles, whips, wax, needles, and – belts.
Not so different, it means he loves me. She drifted back into a drug-induced sleep and dreamt of how her rock star lover would rescue her from this place and make her “The Girlfriend.”
4
Clio sat upon the golden couch and tried to ignore the whispering of the entourage going on around her. Calliope had already had three Deathwishes and Clio was on her second migraine tablet when Crow came flying in. He looked miserable.
Clio stood when he entered the room. He grabbed her by the elbow and whisked her into Annie's private room.
“What is it?” She knitted her arched brows together in question and brought her fingers to her throbbing temple.
He paced the room, wringing his hands. In two years, she had never seen him like this.
“Is Annie dead?” She paled at the thought and looked around for a place to sit.
That got his attention and he flopped onto the daybed Bliss had occupied the night before.
“No. Annie's not dead.” He looked at her like he needed her to understand something. “I did something terrible tonight.”
Clio sat next to him. “What did he do?” She asked.
“I don't know, but I think I may have hurt someone unintentionally.”
Suddenly aware they hadn't seen him all evening, Clio's gaze flicked about the room. “Where's Annie?”
He shook his head. “I don't know.”
“I won't blame you, you know.”
He was looking at the still-rumpled daybed. “Do you know that place we went to last night?”
“The Bioresearch place?”
“If I left someone there, do you think they'd be okay?” He bit his lip.
“Who did you take?” Clio thought she already knew the answer to this.
“Bliss.”
Bliss. She thought of the copper-haired, dreamy-eyed girl that had lately taken the bulk of Annie’s abuse.
“That's what he called you for?” She asked and he nodded.
Clio chewed on her thumbnail. What the hell is Annie up to? What could he possibly have to do with bioresearch? When they had gone last night, Clio originally thought he was funding drug research, but now she wasn't sure.
“Maybe we could snoop around to make sure she's okay.” It sounded reasonable enough when she thought of it. The ridiculousness of it only became obvious when she heard it out loud.
“Do you think we could get in?”
“Well, you're practically a regular there, right?” Clio continued chewing the side of her thumb as she thought aloud. “We could go in on the premise of checking on Bliss for Annie.”
“If Bliss is dead, we'd be caught.”
“I doubt she's dead. If he wanted her dead, he would have done it himself, right?” A few of Annie's regular girls had mysteriously dropped off at times. Clio had her suspicions but never any real proof.
Crow fidgeted and shrugged his shoulders at her.
I don't want to know anymore.
Clio leaned in and kissed him. She pressed her forehead to his and said, “You didn't do anything wrong, you did what Annie told you. What Annie does is wrong. Don't forget that.”
“What have I done to displease you this time, Princess?” Annie drawled from the doorway, his
Clio and Crow leapt from the daybed as though it were on fire.
“Shit, you scared me,” she said.
“Well, Precious, does this have anything to do with your beloved sister?”
Clio looked away.
“Petunia, do you and my Crow have a thing?” Annie whispered in her ear. He had crossed the room and now had a fierce grip on her chin. His face dropped close to hers as he sniffed her hair and neck.
Clio eyed the door.
“Do you want to leave, Lamb chop?”
“Annie, man, leave her alone, you know she hates that,” said Crow.
Annie's head whirled in Crow's direction and he tightened his grip on Clio's face. He narrowed his eyes. “Et tu, Brute? I'm wounded.”
Annie resumed his assault on Clio. “Always too good for me, weren't you, Cupcake?” His free hand crept up to her right breast and squeezed.
Her eyes were tearing up and she whispered through her squeezed cheeks, “Annie, let me go and I'll get out your hair for the rest of the night. I swear to god.”
“Promises, promises, Kitten.” He licked her cheek and tossed her aside. Crow caught her and pulled her out the door.
5
“Put your hands together, guys, for the very lovely, very talented – Cory!”
Smatterings of applause erupted as the fog machine sent a cloud pouring over the tiny lighted stage. Middle Eastern drums pulsed out of speakers overhead and a six-inch heeled boot appeared from behind the red velvet curtain, its lace swaying hypnotically. Men seated at the tip rail waited for the fog to clear to see the object of their desire.
A slight girl of about eighteen parted the fog on the stage. She had deep honey pools for eyes and long, wavy hair of the same color. Her bee-stung mouth and the tiny cleft in her chin gave her a striking resemblance to Calliope. In a black patent-leather bikini top, matching hot pants, and shoulder length gloves, she strutted out to the slow tune as sensuous as a cat and grabbed the pole for a slow spin to the floor.
With a smoldering gaze, she arched her back and sat up to stare her audience in the eyes. She crawled up the pole and wrapped her legs around it. Her ankles locked, she hung upside down, pulled her bikini top off, and slithered back down. When she neared the bottom, she pulled herself up and took hold of the pole with her hands for a graceful landing on her heels. She danced solely for every man in there. When her song ended, she covered her full, perfect breasts and picked up her tips. She put her bikini top back on and went into the crowd looking for a lapdance.
A small bar ran along one side of the club, it could seat about fifteen customers, and the stage sat about thirty. A square stage sat in the corner, where the guys could sit on two sides of it, and the other two sides housed a mirrored wall and the velvet curtain. The carpeting was black with pink lips that glowed in the black lights. Pink Naugahyde couches lined the dark club's windowless walls and tables were scattered about, where gentlemen sat drinking with bikini-clad girls.
The club smelled like perfume, sweet smoke from the fog machine, and beer. The only light in the club was the stage lights and the black lights running along the crowns of the walls. Girls in garish bikinis were like exotic birds that glowed obscenely under the black lights.
Cory stood at the bar, ordering something creamy and strong. A masculine voice with a British accent spoke from behind her. “Could I get a lapdance, luv?”
She didn't turn, she simply took his hand, which was hot, feverish to the touch, and with her drink in the other hand, led him to the couches. The hundred he held out disappeared into her hot pants. With her back to him, she stood between his thighs and bent over far enough to kiss her knees. Her hair suddenly flipped into his face and she sat to rub her butt teasingly in his lap.
Cory downed her drink and placed it on the small table next to them. She turned and got on her knees before him. Her hands massaged his thighs and she buried her head in his groin, rubbing him through his Levi's. She brushed her breasts between his legs, sliding them up his chest, and buried his face in her cleavage. His skin was burning up, and she wondered if he was sick from the flu.
Face to face, she straddled him, and took in his sharp cheekbones, his small, serious mouth, and his platinum pompadour. Her warm, honey eyes stared wide into his ice cold ones.
“Hullo, Dancer, you weren't as easy to find this time.”
She slipped off his lap and landed on the floor between his feet. Her gaze darted around to see if anyone had seen her.
“Fuck, Ares, what the hell are you doing here?” She whispered. Her eyes wide, she resembled a deer caught in headlights. If she tried to get away, she knew he would easily snatch her back.
“Aren't you going to finish my lapdance, luv?” He smiled that alarming toothy grin and cocked his bleached blond head at her, a curl falling into his eyes as he did.
“Fuck you.”
Cory stood to leave and he wrapped a hand around her wrist. Her trembling betrayed the absolute terror coursing through her.
“No, no, we'll have none of that. Sit down, pet, we have a lot to talk about.” The bouncer was nowhere to be seen. She sat back down.
“Where's the bloody Poet?” He looked into her eyes and tightened his grip on her wrist. His good humor was such a fickle, fragile thing.
“I have no idea, I swear, I don't.” Tears pricked up behind her stubborn gaze. “You're hurting me,” she finally said through gritted teeth. His grip tightened even more and she became afraid it might snap. A cold sweat broke out on her brow.
Ares grabbed her hair and pulled her close enough to graze her ear with his lips. “That's not the answer I was looking for, pet.”
Shivers coursed down her spine.
His ice-blue eyes flashed at her. “Let's go get dressed, Terpsichore.”
His fingers still twisted in her hair, Ares dragged her to the dressing room. He opened the door and a couple of the other dancers let out startled screams when he threw her in and she landed in a heap on the floor.
The bouncer came in after them, “What the fuck is going on in here?”
Ares turned toward the bouncer. “Mind your business, mate, this is between me and her.” He was a few inches shorter and weighed a good deal less than the burly bouncer.
Cory looked to the bouncer. “Get out of here, he’ll kill you, he’s crazy,” she said.
The bouncer went to grab him and Ares threw a punch into his substantial nose, which exploded into a bloody mess. Ares' 9mm appeared from nowhere and he grabbed the man by the collar. Pulling him down to his knees, he pointed the gun at the man's temple.
“I said, 'This is between me and her'.” He looked at Cory, “I told you to fucking get dressed.”
One of the girls came to her aid and Cory shoved her back. “Are you nuts?” Cory asked her.
Cory scrambled up, unzipped the hidden zippers on the sides of her lace-up boots, and threw them aside. She pulled on her jeans and motorcycle boots, and threw the rest of her stuff in her duffel bag. Ares grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the dressing room.
As he dragged her through the club, a couple of customers stood, thinking they'd play hero. Ares fired his Glock into the ceiling. The club froze.
Little Orphan Annie Christ's cover of “House of the Rising Sun” was playing for the dancer onstage. Nobody moved, and Ares snorted his contempt for Texans as he dragged Terpsichore out of her club.
She began fighting him in earnest when they hit the asphalt of the parking lot and she realized nobody was going to save her. Her fists beat at him like angry birds and she began to scream for help. Not missing a beat, he grabbed her by the hair and smashed her face into the hood of a Honda they passed.
His face was completely devoid of expression or interest. They reached a big, black
Ares handcuffed her to the door.
Her nose throbbed and she wiped it with the back of her hand. “My nose is bleeding.”
His attention was on the rearview mirror.
“I said, 'my nose is bleeding,'” she said louder.
His arm whipped past her, snatched a filthy towel from behind the seat, and deposited it in her lap. Whitewalls peeled out of the parking lot and onto Richmond Ave. Cory wiped her nose and stared out the open window.
They turned off
Dry desert air blowing in made her hair dance and snap in the front seat. Heat naturally emanated from him and it was excruciating on a hot July night. He hadn't glanced her way once. She took in his profile of high cheekbones and one arched brow as he drove deep in thought.
They drove silently, until she said, “Where are we going?”
“
6
The Villa
Crow and Clio drove back to the villa in silence, listening to the engine's hum. Calliope had decided to wait until the concert's end to return home. Clio had left her reluctantly after the bizarre exchange in Annie's dressing room.
Quieted by his guilt, Crow couldn't share with her how helpless he had felt against Annie in the room, nor how he despised himself for it.
He couldn't protect her from him.
Annie had hurt her, and Crow did nothing about it. If he were fired, she would be alone. Surrendering Bliss to the Kraken was taking its toll on him also and he didn't want to think right now.
Bliss had been tiny in that trunk, like a child.
They pulled into her driveway and she finally looked at him. “Stay with me? I don't want to be alone tonight.”
Although he still couldn't face her, he nodded his head and turned off the
When they walked in the front door, she looked down at the shining gold mosaic of Apollo. She muttered something that sounded like, "You told me so.”
“Did you say something?”
“Just thinking out loud.”
They entered the kitchen and Clio made them a platter of salami, pastrami, cheese, and crackers. She tossed a bag of grapes on top, “Grab a couple of glasses of juice out of the fridge, would you?” Clio grabbed some napkins and headed for the staircase.
When they got to her room, she set the platter on the suspended bed and headed for the bathroom. “I have to wash him off of me, I'll be right back.”
Instead of flipping the TV on, he put some Counting Crows on the CD player and turned the gas fireplace on. His boots were kicked off and he wandered down the hall to one of the guest bedrooms. Showering the incident off sounded like a good idea to him, too. He returned to her room to find her in a tiny tank top and drawstring pajama pants. She was lying on the bed eating grapes and playing a video game.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“It's my secret obsession. Tell no one.”
The bed swayed under his weight as he hopped on beside her and picked up a controller. “I'll kick your ass,” he said.
“Doubtful, but you can try.”
Her grin eased his mood and he slipped into the comfortable wonder of her.
7
Calliope found him in his private room, sitting on the floor by the closet. A bottle of Jack rested in his fist. Calliope knew he hadn't touched any of it. Annie didn't drink too often. He might be a morphine addict, but he never wanted his affairs conducted under a drunken stupor. His eyes were too clear and she knew he only wanted her to think he was incapacitated.
They had played this game before.
The room outside was in a hedonistic frenzy, this being the tour's last night. The party had reached levels that would later call for police backup, she had seen this too many times before. She had gone looking for him to find out what he had done to Clio to leave her so unnerved all night. Only Annie caused her to act that jumpy.
He leaned against the wall with his legs splayed out in front of him. His gaze followed her about the room. Clothes were thrown in heaps into his suitcases and she scoured the bathroom for personal effects. They had to be out of the dressing room before they were thrown out.
Calliope crouched down in front of him.
“Go away, demon,” he slurred.
Her lips curled in disgust. Hands on her thighs, she pushed herself back up. He was like a cobra, and she had to watch every move he made in order to avoid his strike. Discontent rose in waves off him like heat on a desert highway.
His unflinching gaze held hers in challenge. His mouth suddenly moved in an unpleasant twist and caused her pulse to slam in her veins.
Shadows of ancient anxieties colored her expression. Having had enough of his mind games, she walked up to him and gave him a swift kick him in the thigh.
“You're not drunk,” she said.
“Well. My, my. But you certainly are.”
“What the hell did you do to my sister?”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“Shut up and answer the damned question,
His hand shot out and pulled her ankle out from under her. She landed on the carpet with a loud thud. Her foot kicked out in defense, and she tried to crawl away from him.
“Why do you always think I'm the one who's upset the little bitch?” He grabbed her by her pants and dragged her back. Annie climbed atop her and sat on her ass, pinning her down.
In her numbed state, it took her a few seconds to react to his sudden strike. She dug her nails into the carpet and growled at him.
He twisted a handful of her raven locks in his fist. “I am so sick of your holier-than-thou attitude,” he whispered into her ear.
“Let me go, you asshole!” She twisted beneath him and the ridiculous pink carpet burned her ankles and forearms.
He shook his hand out of her hair in disgust. “You're lucky I've kept you around.”
Fury filled every square inch of her face. With an unexpected strength, she bucked him off her. She jumped up on unsteady legs and turned to face him on his knees.
“I'm lucky? I'm lucky?” She was nearly screaming it. “You would be nothing without me.” The back of her hand slammed into his cheek. “Nothing.” The slap sounded like a gunshot.
What she said next was smothered, but there. “I have to leave you,
Calliope turned to storm out and her world went black.
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