John Locke - Box

After an hour of rigorous interrogation, Chris admits Zander set the whole thing up and gave her half the money.

Chris’s boyfriend picked Zander up from the riverbank, accepted Chris’s half of the money for her, and drove Zander to a truck stop in Eddyville, Kentucky. When he dropped her off, he called Chris’s cellphone, and Chris reported the robbery.

Nearly two hours after it took place.

What made Chris finally spill her guts?

Outrage.

Zander gave Chris and her boyfriend half the bowling alley money, as promised.

But when Chris heard about the eight-thousand dollar robbery that took place around my ankles at the riverbank, she freaked out. She felt half of that should have gone into her pocket.

Police can’t locate anyone named Zander Evans in their data banks. The detectives can’t even get a hit on Google.

I tell them about the dating website, but they tell me she’s pulled her photo and closed her account. It could take the police department weeks to gain access to the original records.

They’re happy to hear I’ve got recent photos of Zander on my cell phone.

They download the photos, take down my information, and tell me I’ll need to come back to town at some point to testify against Zander and/or Chris.

I tell the cop who’s not Zander’s boyfriend I’m willing to come back if I can fit it into my schedule.

“I could jail you till then, if that would make things easier for you,” he says.

I hope they never catch Zander.

Not because she has my support, but because if I have to testify against her the entire riverbank episode will be on the public record. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be for me if the multi-million dollar donors to my hospital found out their top surgeon was unable to sustain an erection during a routine blowjob?

It’s late by the time I get back to the hotel, and I’m exhausted. But not too exhausted to open the door for Renee, who wants to spend the night despite the unwelcome police visit earlier.

“What made you decide to come back?” I say.

“You know that cop whose son was in my class at school last semester?”

“Yeah?”

“I figure it won’t matter so much that he saw me naked if you and I wind up getting married,” she says, hopefully.

“That’s quite true,” I say, shamelessly.

“There’s been a slight change since I saw you,” she says. “I went to McDonalds to get one of their dollar meals, you know?”

No. I don’t, but I say, “What happened?”

“I had to use the bathroom.”

“And?”

“I got my period, is all. That’s not a problem for you, is it? I mean, being a doctor and all?”

“Depends on how you feel.”

“About doing it?”

“I mean, do you feel up to having sex?”

“Yes, of course!” she says. “I’m not one to let it slow me down!”

“Well, that’s a damn fine piece of news,” I say, and mean it.

“So it’s not a problem?”

“Not for me.”

“You know what really feels good this time of the month?” she says.

“What’s that?”

“Oral sex.”

“I know. You showed me. And you know what?”

“What?”

“You’re damned good at it!”

“Really?”

“Really. You want to have another go?”

“Thanks, Gideon. That’s really sweet of you. But I meant me.”

“What about you?”

“It feels extra good to me when…you know.”

“Whoa. You want me to give you oral?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“A real man would!” she says.

I look at my watch. “You know what I just realized?” I say.

“What’s that?”

“I haven’t had dinner yet. Are you hungry?”

“Well, I did eat from the dollar menu a little while ago.”

“Oh.”

“You know what we could do? Order you some room service. And while we’re waiting for your dinner to arrive, maybe we could…you know.”

I order us two bottles of wine and pray they arrive before she gets naked.

After ordering the wine I turn to see Renee lying on the bed, naked from the waist down. She says, “Come and get it, Cowboy!”

Using the excuse of needing a shower before getting intimate, I lock myself in the bathroom, turn on the shower, and text the following message to my hospital administrator, Bruce Luce:

I need a big favor! Flood my cell phone with text messages, telling me I have to fly to NYC immediately to perform a life-saving surgery.

I press send. When it goes through, I type another:

Text me you’ve got a jet waiting at the private landing strip in Paducah, and tell me it’s a matter of life and death!

When that one goes through I send him another:

The messages need to sound extremely urgent! Start sending them immediately! And don’t stop sending them till I tell you.

When that one goes through, I erase all the sent messages from my phone, and open the bathroom door.

“You’re awfully dry for having just taken a shower!” Renee says. “Plus, the water’s still running.”

“I was brushing my teeth,” I say, “then realized I had my phone with me. I get emergency calls all the time. A kid nearly died once when I was in the shower and couldn’t hear the phone.”

“That’s terrible!” she says.

“Can you keep an eye on my phone while I shower, just in case?”

“I’d love to!” she says. “And by the way, don’t worry about going hungry. I called room service back and ordered you a Porterhouse steak and a baked potato with butter, sour cream, and bacon bits.”

“You did?”

“And some blackberry cobbler.”

“That’s a significant caloric commitment.”

She laughs. “I hope you don’t plan to talk like that when we order food in Logan.”

“What would happen?”

“They’d probably take you out back and shoot you.”

“That’s a tough restaurant.”

“By the way, the room service guy said your order will take forty minutes. That sounds about right, don’t you think?”

She winks, pats her heart-shaped muff.

“Sounds great!” I say, feigning enthusiasm.

I put my phone on the night stand beside her.

“Let me know if anyone calls, okay?”

“I promise.”

“Texts are particularly serious.”

“Texts are? How come?”

“It means the people in charge are knee-deep in a critical situation, and there’s no time to talk.”

“Wow!”

“I can’t express how important this is, Renee. I’m counting on you.”

“I won’t let you down,” she says, solemnly. “I’ll let you know if anyone calls or texts. I promise.”

“Good girl. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I love the fact you save children’s lives.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I’m a kindergarten teacher, remember?”

“Right.”

“You work on their bodies, I work on their minds.”

“I like that,” I say, truthfully.

It strikes me Renee’s a good person. While that’s a plus, it’s not enough to make me want to dive face first into Red River Gorge.

I strip, enter the shower, but leave the door unlocked.

A minute later, I hear her call out my name in an urgent manner.

I smile, pretending not to hear.

The door opens.

“Gideon!” she says.

I poke my head out of the shower. “Everything okay?”

She’s holding my cell phone, pointing to it. There’s a look of panic in her eyes.

“I got a text?”

She nods.

“Read it to me.”

“There are two messages.”

“Don’t tell me it’s Bruce Luce.”

“Would that be bad?”

“Terribly bad! Don’t tell me Bruce sent me two texts!”

“One’s from Bruce.”