Grumpy Best Friend

“If you’re admitting it, I guess all of this is over,” I said, waving my hands in the air like I was erasing a chalkboard. “You have nothing over us anymore. I might as well call the cops.”

His eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t say I have nothing,” he said, and tilted his head, fingers moving down around the folder like crabs in the sand. “The truth is, I need the money, and I’m tired of waiting. You’re delaying, because you think you can delay, and I’m here to tell you that there will be no more games.”

I felt a sudden rush of anger. I knew it was stupid—this man was dangerous, and anger wouldn’t get me anywhere. But maybe I was impulsive and not very smart. I leaned forward and said, “Is breaking into my apartment and smashing everything I own some kind of game then?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Oh, no, I take that very seriously.”

I felt a chill. “So you’re admitting it.”

“Of course. Why pretend? I broke into your place, and I can break into Bret’s if I want to. You’re not safe, Jude, and the sooner you understand, the better.”

I stared at him and felt my skin crawl. He knew I was staying with Bret—but of course he did. He probably had us both followed most days. I didn’t know what sort of resources this man had, or how much damage he could do if he wanted to, but I had the feeling so far, he hadn’t worked too hard to hurt us. I sat up and folded my hands in front of me, and did my best to look stoic in the face of my utter rage and terror.

“What do you want, Zeke? Why are you here, telling me all this?”

He turned the folder toward me and pushed it over. “No more games,” he said. “I don’t own any patents, but I do own these. I tried to get you to pay up without resorting to outright blackmail, but—” He raised his hands, like what else could he do?

I scowled at the folder. “What’s in there?”

“Pictures,” he said. “Open it.”

“No,” I said. “What’s inside?” I felt my heart arcing, and a sick bulge lodged itself in my throat. I was afraid I’d scream, or cry, or throw up. Sweat trickled down my back, and my hands were shaking. I wished I’d let Hal come in with me, or that I’d waited for Bret.

“Pictures of Lady Fluke,” he said, leaning toward me, grinning a wild smirk. “Come on, you’re not a prude, are you, Jude? Oh, look at that, Jude the Prude.” He laughed again, and it was unhinged, borderline out of control.

I reached for the folder, hands trembling, and lifted the cover.

The photograph inside was grainy. The coloring was shifted orange, and the lighting wasn’t good. It depicted a large bed, the covers rumpled, with a woman lying up near the pillows. She was smiling, and looked genuinely happy as she spread her legs wide.

I shut the folder again and closed my eyes. Lady Fluke, naked, legs spread, on an unfamiliar bed. “You sick fuck,” I said.

“I know, isn’t it lovely? Even after all this time, I still kept those.” He leaned back and swiveled side to side, tapping at his chin with one finger. “Got to admit, Lady’s got one hell of a body. You should look at all the pictures. I mean seriously, fantastic tits, amazing pussy, and she wasn’t shy.”

“Stop it,” I said through clenched teeth. “What the fuck do you want? She was your wife, for fuck’s sake.”

“She was,” he agreed. “But she’s not anymore. If you don’t want those photos to leak, you’ll pay me five million dollars. No more games, no more being coy. Five million, two weeks. Do you understand?”

“It’s not going to happen,” I said. “She won’t pay. I won’t let her.”

“Then the world’s going to see pretty Lady’s bush,” he said, and stood up, stretching. “Anyway, it’s been fun. Keep those copies, I’ve got plenty more.”

“How do I know you’ll destroy the originals?” I asked as he walked to the door. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“I guess you don’t,” he said, and tilted his head to glance back at me through hooded eyes. “But ask Lady whether you can trust me or not. She remembers what kind of man I am. You don’t get far in my world if you’re a liar, believe it or not. Honor among thieves, and all that.” He opened the door and stepped out into the hall. I watched him through the window as he disappeared around the corner.

Hal came in a moment later. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look pale. Can I get you water?”

“Please,” I said, and stared down at the folder, my hands trembling. This was sick—so goddamn sick. That was his smiling wife on the bed, spreading her legs for him when they were happily married, and now he wanted to use those intimate photographs against her. I didn’t know what sort of man did that, but it wasn’t an honest one.