The men we’re watching are both child predators, and when they were sentenced to a non-life sentence, a few of our agents staged their deaths in a prison brawl and brought them to me for what they actually deserve. Sometimes these men are used to train recruits in the art of information extraction or intimidation. The bodies are useful after death to train our in-house physicians and forensics investigators, so really, we’re just recycling the trash the earth has given us.
A scream tears through the glass barrier, pulling my attention away from a delectable cucumber sandwich that I’ll have to ask the chef to put into regular rotation. The older man is yelling and sobbing about how unfair this is, and begging for his life. The younger man is sitting silently, watching the display with a cold, psychopathic calm. They’re father and son, and they were in cahoots to prey on children using a “friendly neighborhood grandpa” shtick.
The intercom crackles as I key it to give my final reminder. “Both of you know the rules.”
Thefunpart is, they have different rules. The son’s instructions were that if he could stay calm and not speak to his father, I’d spare his life once his dad lost his mind. The father was told that only one of them was making it out alive. Neither is allowed to speak, although the elder man has started to crack. Every time he vocalizes, the room isenhanced.The sprinklers were on for hours overnight, and now it’s a breezy sixty degrees.
“You’ve always been worthless, and now you’re making this worse for us by talking. Shut the fuck up!” The son launches a diatribe at his father, who finally snaps and attacks. “He’s lost it! Come get me, I win! He’s totally lost it!”
Before long, he’s too busy fighting for his life to waste his breath on anything else. Misha and I watch them claw at each other for a few minutes, but I’ve finished my tea, and the fun’s mostly over anyway. As we make our way back to the house, storm clouds approach from the west.Perfect.A stormy afternoon will be an excellent backdrop to my office hours.
“What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?”
He chuckles. “Oh, my usual. Gym, tan, laundry, attempting to manage your boytoy who yourefuseto toy with.”
“If you wouldn’t constantly mention him, I’d forget he was here, and my life would be much more peaceful.”
“I don’t think Iconstantly—”
“And why does he need managing? Can he not entertain himself? He can spend all day in the gym, you said he liked working out with the men.”
“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I’ll attempt to manage him. He’s not the best listener, though, I can tell you that. It’s like trying to train a puppy.”
“You’ve never been firm enough when you train men. He probably needs a shorter leash and a good spanking, and he’d be sitting at your feet behaving.”
Misha’s diabolical laugh as he heads into the house makes me realize what I’ve said. I call after him, “I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it. Just keep him out of my way!”
“Of course, moya tsaritsa. I’ll certainly try. But you should think more about what I said. Three things you enjoy more than anything, and two of the three today haven’t sated you. I can still see it in your eyes.”
See it in my eyes.He’s never more annoying than when he’s right. A thunderclap tempts me with the simple pleasure of staying outside in the rain. My office work can wait a bit…Lightning strikes a bit too close for comfort as the clouds part, and although the odds of being struck are in my favor, perhaps it’s not the best idea to push my luck today. Moving quickly inside, I reconsider my options.
Maybe a bath to reset, then back to the office.
“Ahh!”
The scream pierces the air as I open my bathroom door, and my gun is drawn on instinct, pointed at…Thatcher, naked except for bubbles, holding a rubber duck?
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” In here being inmybathroom, inmy bathtub,withmybubble bath, and…well, he must have supplied his own rubber duck.
He sinks back down into the water, recovering quickly from being held at gunpoint and flashing an apologetic smile. “When I turned on the jets in my tub, black gunk came out. I don’t think it’s been used in a while—”
“Gunk?”
“Blackgunk.”
“You breached the threshold ofmyspace, uninvited, because of gunk in your tub?”
“It’s still there. If you go look at it, you’ll feel differently. It isnasty.”
His cheeks are pink, either from the heat of his bath, getting caught, or something else Irefuseto consider. His ass should be pinked too, for barging in here and violating the sanctity of my space.
“Leave. Call maintenance if you have a problem with your plumbing.”
When he rises from the water this time, his smile is cockier, but I turn after a glimpse of his Adonis belt. Whatever he’s cockyabout isn’t my business. Finally, he wraps himself in one of my towels and is gone, trailing water the entire way.
This is fine.I’ll drain and rinse the tub, have myself a bath as I planned, and there won’t be any evidence that Thatcher was ever here. By the time I’ve gathered my things, the tub is empty…of water. Perched near the drain, however, is a memento to ensure I don’t forget about my guest in his absence. Upon closer inspection, I have to laugh.
The duck is wearing a hockey jersey with “Prescott 19” proudly printed across the back.
