Ken Douglas - Scorpion

“ The paper on these is better, they roll nicer.” She rolled the green US hundred dollar bill. She approached the mirror, put the rolled bill to her left nostril and inhaled. Then she did it again with the right. She closed her eyes, inhaled a deep breath through her nose and let the cocaine rush to her brain.

“ Well?” he said after a few seconds.

“ Exhilarating. You’ve done very well.”

“ I try.” He sounded smug, and from the tone of his voice she knew the real reason he’d stopped by his apartment. She could never prove it, because she’d never met the Salizars. It had to be that way, both because of her father and because there was no way they’d ever deal with a woman.

She opened her eyes and nailed him with her stare. He met her eyes with his own and for a few seconds they were locked together, a contest of wills. He grinned, looked away and she bit into her lower lip, enjoying the euphoric high and resisting the triumphant smile. The bastard had stolen some of her cocaine.

“ You made the papers again,” he said.

“ Really? What was it this time?”

“ Picture of us leaving the Red House Ball last week.” His voice had a haughty kind of sneer in it that put her on her guard.

“ And what else?” she asked. There was no reason the paper would print a week old picture. She was popular, but not that popular.

“ Headline implied that there might wedding bells in our future.”

“ That’s not so bad then,” she said.

“ Why did you agree to marry me?” he asked.

“ You’re exciting, you take risks, you’re in love with me, you come from a solid British family, you’re great in bed and you’re the only person in the world that understands me.”

“ We are good in bed together, aren’t we?” he said.

“ Yes,” she said, but she’d had better. Of course she could never tell him that. Because like all men, when he wasn’t serving his ego he was trying to serve his penis. And like most men he never seemed to get either one right, where the penis wanted to go, the ego followed, dragging along the wagging tail of a man, like an eager puppy anxious to please.

“ Why do you do it, the coke I mean? Don’t you have enough money already?”

“ I’ll have enough when I’m satisfied,” she said.

“ I’m sorry, I’ve spoken out of turn. It’s just that it doesn’t mix too good with our other business.” He looked at his watch. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Life was never simple. She heard the tapping of the vial on the mirror again and exhaled, opening her eyes.

“ I won’t do another.” She was about to say more, but she was interrupted by the phone ringing in the other room. “I’ll be right back.” She dropped the rolled hundred on the bed. She left the door open on her way out and she was conscious of him watching her backside as she made her way down the hall to the living room. She knew he was licking his lips as her body moved beneath the tight summer dress, not a wiggle, not a bounce, but a natural, almost innocent teenage movement that locked men’s eyes onto her like they were radar trained. But she was no teenager and she was no innocent. They knew it and she knew it.

She turned back and saw him as he sat on the bed, she smiled, flicked the long hair out of her eyes again with her right hand as she picked up the phone with her left. “Ambassador Street’s residence,” she said with a Spanish accent, mimicking her Venezuelan maid.

“ Dani Street, please.” She recognized the smooth voice of George Chandee, only this night he didn’t sound as smooth as usual.

“ It’s me,” she said into the phone with her own voice. She looked down the hall, Kevin was off the bed and leaning in the bedroom doorway, staring down the hallway, watching her. She knew he could hear her every word. He looked at his watch. He wanted to do the cocaine, but he’d wait for her.

“ So you have an extra fiance I didn’t know about?” Chandee said over the phone.

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“ A man named Broxton.”

“ Where did you meet him?” her voice turned wary.

“ On the plane. He told us about his marriage plans right after the bomb went off.”

“ Say again,” she said.

“ He said he was going to marry you.”

“ Not that, the other.”

“ The bomb?” Chandee said as Dani clenched her fist around the receiver and shot Kevin a cold glare.

“ Yeah, that.”

“ A bomb went off on the plane. We had a frightening flight. For awhile I didn’t think we were going to make it.” Now she knew why he wasn’t his usual smooth self.

“ I’ll get back with you,” she said.

“ Dani-”

“ Not now, I’ll call you, soon,” she said, and she cradled the phone.

She started toward Kevin. “I need a drink, how about you?”

“ Scotch and water.”

Her silky hair whipped around as she spun on her heels. She put a spring in her step and she knew that Kevin was feeling lucky. She’d never bedded him in the residence before.

In the kitchen she made two quick drinks, then started back to the guest bedroom. He was at the bureau, tapping out more of the white powder, dividing it into four white lines when she came back into the room. She set them down on the nightstand next to the bed, then came toward him.

“ Did some while I was in the kitchen,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“ Small ones,” he said, like that made it all right to do more. Then he said, “There was a man on the plane claimed to be engaged to you, so it appears that I’m not the only heart that’s fallen under your spell.”

“ Really?” she said, feigning surprise. “He said we were engaged?”

“ Something like that. He said he was coming to Trinidad to marry you.”

“ And you just assumed I’d say yes and jump into this stranger’s bed?” She curled her toes in an effort to keep the anger out of her voice.

“ He sounded so sure.”

“ Does he have a name?” Dani asked, still pretending ignorance.

“ Broxton.”

“ Bill Broxton?”

“ That’s him,” he said.

“ He’s an old friend.”

“ He works for the DEA.”

“ Yeah, I know that. He’s a systems analyst of some kind. We grew up together.”

“ He thinks you’re going to marry him.”

“ Then he’s wrong.”

He smiled, that seemed to satisfy him. She was beginning to have second thoughts. Maybe he wasn’t for her after all. However, as she’d just admitted to him, he was the only man on the planet that could ever understand her. But she didn’t like it that he’d pinched some of the coke, the deal was fifty-fifty. He was making enough that he didn’t have to skim off the top. And she didn’t like him not telling her what happened on the plane. And she really didn’t like his smug, holier than thou attitude. This was not going to be a marriage made in heaven, she thought and she wondered if there was going to be a wedding at all.

Then she thought of Bill Broxton. What would her life have been like if he’d married her way back then? Would she be a frumpy stay-at-home mom, or would she be an honest Josephine, balancing motherhood and career? But he’d never asked, he married someone else, and things were the way they were. She could never marry him now. It would be the end of everything.

Still standing, he turned toward the bureau and picked up the mirror with the cocaine on it.

“ I won’t do any more,” she said. She had strict rules and he knew it. Never do the drug, except when testing. She’d done her test, now she would have her drink.

“ Relax, these are all for me,” he said, as she studied the four lines, little snakes of white powder, on the mirror. He looked toward her, like he was expecting her to hand over the rolled bill. When she didn’t, he reached into his pocket, took out the blue hundred, rolled it, and quickly inhaled two lines. Then he picked up the small mirror and offered it to her with hope dancing in his eyes.