Lust Demented

{II}

DARKNESS WAS THE WORLD I was no longer a part of. Sgt. Bethany Powers had the light in my face with a glare of scrutiny

“Make any sense of this mess Farrow?” She waited for me to break the silence.

“You’re perfect except for the uniform.”

Sgt. Bethany Powers smashed my face off the table. The room trembled. I was back on Roosevelt Avenue in Queens watching the trains pass each other in the night. Jumbo jets swept down from above. Everything moved around me in immediacy, but I stayed frozen: Just another dissolving hologram.

“So Farrow… what made you come into the city tonight?” Her soothing voice took its sweet time slicing through the stale air.

“I came for A Greater Truth.” The severity of the situation was squandered. Squandered in years of writing rising from the concrete maze. Squandered in the mocking sky constantly caving in. Squandered in the sagging marshland bubbling to swallow me up.

“Did you get it out of Percy before you carved into him?” Their efforts to unwrap me, felt routine, unimportant.

“I heard you were more than familiar with Percy’s wife, Missy.”

“His wife? It’s been years.”

“Years?”

“Missy fucked me over. A year’s passed since I’ve seen her.”

“A year almost to the day. Nice anniversary you planned.” A dose of serum. I wondered where she got her information and how the hell it was so relevant and exact. After the fleecing Missy ran on me with the help of the lecherous high society literary czar Percy Featherton, I lost all concept of time. I had to lead the conversation into insignificance.

“It’s not my style to badmouth the black widow. None of this woulda ever happened if…”

“What woulda never happened, Farrow… Percy would still be alive?”

“We better not find Missy taking a dirt nap in your backyard.”

“I hope she’s okay. I hope she gets everything…”

“She deserves.” Det. Anderson grimaced, patient and methodical.

“I hope she gets everything she desires. Everything she thinks she needs.” I used Missy. She used me. It usually went that way in love. The idea that she was in danger made me cringe, but the cops would do little to help. If anything, clarifying what they didn’t know could only complicate the disaster.

“How did Missy fuck you over Farrow? It seems to me she found a more successful man. A gentleman that adored her. A successful man that helped her gain the recognition that she deserved.”

“It seems if anyone did anything to anyone… it was you Farrow. Tell me. Just how did Missy fuck you over?” Sgt. Powers went after my insecurities. It made my blood simmer. I couldn’t resist. I had to hear the words out loud.

“Missy fucked me over by…”

“Come with it.”

“Don’t keep us waiting.”

“By stealing my book… A Greater Truth!”

“Your book?”

“A Greater Truth?”

“Yeah. Did you read it?” An image of my book’s last passage brought a smile to my face. “Either of you?”

“Actually to be completely honest, I feel like I’m reading it as we speak.” Sgt. Powers humored me, attempting to turn me inside out. “But, I don’t believe you wrote it. Not a fucking chance.”

“I don’t believe you read it… not a fucking chance.” Our doubts appeared out of nowhere… threatening to spread into a local plague… popping up on the cankerous faces of the Grand Central commuter rush… splotching over the skin of the staggering tourists drunk on Times Square’s radioactive waves… climbing out the scabrous loudmouths of bluebeasts in riot gear ducking flaming bottles.

“Farrow, can you prove that you wrote it?” Detective Anderson ended on a long pause, listening intently as if his life, not mine depended on it.

“Do a mother’s eyes match her baby’s?”

“Sometimes they do match Farrow. Sometimes they do.” The only place that offered any escape from the morbid meditation was Sgt. Bethany Powers’ green eyes, where of course I found my reflection. Too bad she was against me. Too bad she only cared about the dead.