May 3
Camp Stanley – ‘Midwest Depot’
Southern Texas
8:52 P.M. CDT / 9:52 P.M. EDT
Elle appeared in the doorway shortly before 9 p.m., arriving only technically late enough after sunset to make her outfit acceptable to an overly strict fashionista.
Even the word “acceptable” was duly arguable: the cocktail dress was black, form fitting, cut low enough so that Third Man had to restrain his impulse to wolf-whistle.
“Where is he?” Elle demanded.
Shane Yerkey was led out of his confinement quarters, already combed and groomed and awkwardly shaved by Loser, who had lost the coin-flip to perform that duty. Instead, Winner had only held Shane’s face still enough to minimize the occasional razor-nick from his aptly named, resentful companion.
Elle examined those nicks, and peered closely at Shane’s eyes.
“He has had no drugs since the water bottle yesterday, is that right?”
“Nope,” Third Man assured her. “You wanted clean, you got clean. In every way.”
Elle turned back to Shane.
“Can you understand me, Mr. Yerkey? Can you talk?”
“Yeah,” Shane mumbled. “And I still want out of this damn place.”
“Good. Because we’re going to go out. You and me, together.”
She fished from her elegantly miniscule bag a small pill.
“Just as soon as you take this.”
“Screw you,” Shane said.
“It won’t hurt you. It’s just a little something to make our evening go much better. Take it, please, or these gentlemen will make you take it.”
Shane did.
“What was it?”
“I believe the common term is ‘Ecstasy,’ Mr. Yerkey. And I hope you don’t mind if I call you ‘Shane’ from now on. Please. I’d also like you to call me ‘Elle.’ You can do that, Shane, can’t you? For a while, at least.”
• • •
Shane awoke with a start.
It was still dark; he could see stars twinkle through the window of…
… my own bedroom? he realized. How the hell did I—
He then realized he was naked beneath the sheets.
He also realized that he was not alone there.
“It’s not even midnight yet, Shane,” Elle said, rolling toward him.
He realized that she too was naked.
“What in the hell is going on?” he said, a shout.
“Someone else should tell you that, dear,” Elle said. “I’ll get him on my phone. You two need to talk.”
She tapped a speed-dial number, handed the phone to a befuddled Shane.
“Mr. Yerkey, this is Billy Carson. We met at the Motiva board meeting, where you also met Ms. Lothlorien.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the man with no name,” Carson laughed. “You remember now, of course.”
“Did you have me … abducted, and drugged, and—”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Yerkey.”
“Bullshit!” Shane shouted, and pawed at a nonexistent shirt collar unavailable to loosen. “I’ve been held against my will by your people … by this woman…”
“You might have some difficulty in convincing anybody of that,” Carson said. “My understanding is that you and Ms. Lothlorien have become somewhat … let’s say, smitten with each other. I also understand that you had a very good time tonight on your date.”
“What date? What are you talking about?”
“Your date, to several very enjoyable night spots in San Antonio,” Carson said. “Many people saw you and Ms. Lothlorien together—independent witnesses, in no way affiliated with any government agency—and I believe they would testify that the two of you seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Quite a bit. There are, by the way, a number of photographs. Everybody’s cellphone has a camera these days, you know.”
“Photographs of what?”
“Well, initially of the fight you had with a fellow patron. Quite disruptive; a table or two on the floor, I hear. After that, of course, you were quite the center of attention; you and Ms. Lothlorien appear to have engaged in a number of acts of public affection.”
Carson’s chuckle came clearly over the cellphone. “In fact, you were both asked to leave several clubs because of it. Of course, this was memorable to all present. These photos and witnesses might also undermine any ridiculous claims you might make.”
“I don’t understand—”
“So perhaps it would be wise of you to drop any accusations of abductions, Mr. Yerkey, or anything similar. Also, to forget the past two days even happened. Except, naturally, for the chance meeting you had at your place of employment with a member of my staff, and the love-at-first-sight experience that was the result. In return, we will all back away from that regrettable accusation of negligence against your friend at Motiva. What was her name? Oh, yes: Carol Golembiewski. She will be reinstated, of course. No black marks on her record. Or yours.”
“And in return, all I’m supposed to do is just shut up?” Shane demanded.
“It would be wise. You don’t strike me as stupid, Mr. Yerkey. Do we have an understanding?”
“Yeah. We have a goddamn understanding.”
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Yerkey. I hope we won’t be speaking again, ever.”
The phone went silent. Shane stared at it, then at the woman alongside him.
“So are we happy now?” she asked.
“Is your name even Elle?”
“It’s Marie, Marie Lothlorien. Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Yerkey.”
“So we’re not on a first-name basis anymore?”
She did not answer, not until she had finally completed dressing and walked to the apartment door, Shane steps behind.
But at the door, she turned.
“Goodbye, Mr. Yerkey. It’s been fun, but all good things end sometime, no? I hope you’ll always think of me as Elle, as ‘she.’ And no matter what, I’ll think of you whenever the radio plays Aerosmith. My favorite of theirs is ‘Walk This Way.’ I believe that you remember how it goes. Use it to remember me.”
She left, closing the door firmly and finally behind her.