Blinded (16 page)

Riley looks at Jasmine for a moment, as though he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He takes it all in and for a moment, just thinks. He steps a bit closer.

“Stay right there,” you order him.

He holds his hands at shoulder level. “I’m not going to do a thing.”

“Then stay there.”

“What are you—oh man, you’re seriously crazy. I just got here after she called me—”

“That’s a lie,” Jasmine says.

“And after I was at the club. Trying to repair my busted nose.”

“You deserved that busted nose,” you say.

“Yeah, but you’re the one going around trying to—I don’t know. Trying to protect someone you don’t even know.”

“I know what you’ve done to her.”

“What?”

“Riley, you know it’s true,” Jasmine says.

You stand on the edge of the main room, a couch separating Riley and you, Jasmine behind you. Riley begins to back up, his hands looking as if they’re trying to wave you and your gun down.

“This is crazy.”

“Stop,” you say as Riley walks away. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“What do you want? J, we’re through.”

“Good.”

“No, I mean we are
so
through. You’re nothing but a pretty, rich whore.”

“Shut your mouth,” you say.

“Why don’t you make me,” he says, cursing.

“Shoot him,” Jasmine says.

You look at her and see the serious expression on her face. Riley is stunned as well.

“Shoot him. It’s self-defense. He broke in here—”

“I didn’t break in here!”

“—I told him to give me back his key but he had another made. He came in here to rape me.”

Riley’s eyes are large and his head shakes. “That’s nonsense, man. Does she look like I touched her?”

“You’ve had too much to drink tonight. You know exactly why you came over here.”

“Yeah, you called me, you stupid tramp.”

“I said shut your mouth,” you tell Riley.

“And I said why don’t you make me.”

“Shoot him.”

You think of the knock on your head and then the bruise on Jasmine’s face.

Protect her. Don’t let something else happen to her
.

The gun in your hand starts to feel heavy.

“Do it, Michael. Do it for me.”

You look at her and see the earnest expression on her face. Something about it scares you.

“Jasmine, I …”

“He’s going to keep coming back. Do you know what it’s like? Do you know how it feels to live in fear?”

Yeah, you sorta do
.

Riley curses. “She’s so full of—”

“Just shut up.”

“Come on, man, you’re tired. You’re tired and out of your mind. Just put the gun down.”

“Don’t do it, Michael. Don’t. Don’t let him sweet-talk you.”

Riley takes a step toward you, and you hold the gun more firmly. “Back off.”

“I’m telling you, man, you’re making a big mistake.”

The man in the T-shirt and designer jeans looks at you with questioning, annoyed eyes. He still doesn’t think you can do it.

“Help me,” Jasmine tells you.

She comes up behind you and slips a hand on your chest, rubbing it.

“Please, Mike. Please help me.”

It’s not like it looks in the movies. This doesn’t feel right or normal.

What am I doing here?

“Do it. Just do it.”

Riley starts to curse and you feel Jasmine’s touch and your mind is twirling and your body aches and your hand shakes and you think about it. For just a split second, you think about it.

Then you see the gun in your hand, the second gun that night, and realize that the picture is wrong, that this is all so very wrong.

Instead of aiming the gun, you let your hand fall to your side.

“Mike!” Jasmine says.

“Get out of here,” you tell Riley.

“That’s what I was trying to do.”

Jasmine looks at you in disbelief.

“No.”

“It’s okay,” you tell her.

“No, it’s not!”

“It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“Please, Mike. Please …”

You look over at Jasmine. She gives you sad, sexy eyes.

The gun stays down, resting at your side.

“Let’s go,” you tell her.

She breathes in and looks at you, then back at Riley.

“What about him?”

“I’m calling the cops.”

“No, don’t do that,” she demands.

Riley is nodding his head, hands still up. “I’m just—I’m out of here, okay? No problem. J, everything’s cool. Fine. I can just—look here, it’s fine, seriously.”

He’s putting his jacket back on.

“Don’t let him go.”

You look at Jasmine and want to reach out and touch her soft face. “I can’t kill a man.”

“Yes, you can. It’s easy.”

You shake your head and grip the gun. “I can’t.”

Something on her face changes. A look of disgust.

Is that directed at me or at Riley?

But as you stare at her, the door opens and shuts and Riley is gone.

“He’ll be back,” she says.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“Where to?”

“I don’t know. Let’s—let’s go back to my hotel room.”

She stares at you for a moment, and her mouth goes to say something, then she stops herself and nods and walks to her bedroom.

Your whole body shudders and you place the gun down on the kitchen counter, toss the other gun from your jeans right next to it, then rush over to the sink and start to heave. You don’t have much inside of you to vomit—you did that earlier.

You finally stop and turn on the water and take several large gulps of it. Then you run the faucet over your face and your forehead.

You were aiming a gun at a stranger, close to pulling the trigger.

I wouldn’t have done it
.

But you could have. Accidentally. If Riley had charged at you. Or if Jasmine had somehow gotten her hands on it. What would have happened if

don’t think about it

you had killed somebody?

And now.

Yes, and now
.

You don’t want to think anymore.

Riley is gone. And soon you will be too.

I
N THE COLD, FAKE-LEATHER BACKSEAT
of the rushing cab, Jasmine puts a hand on your leg, then moves it up to find your hand.

“Thank you,” she says.

You nod and look at her and see the lights and the whirl of the city pass behind her.

Her face looks young and scared and needy.

She looks at you for a long time, holding your hand, pressing it, beckoning you to come closer.

You feel a shiver go through your body.

The look stays. She’s waiting, wondering what’s taking you so long, wondering why you haven’t already made a move.

Your body feels electric even though your heart and soul know this is wrong.

This is so wrong so wrong so absolutely wrong but it feels right and feels like I want it
.

You begin to move closer to her. She looks at your lips.

She can tell you’re afraid.

“Everything is going to be okay,” she says.

And you put your arms around her and hold her in your arms.

The world passes by. If only everything could stop and be put on hold and you could just stay here in her arms.

Just a minute ago you were seconds away from killing a man
.

The thought terrifies you.

Another part of you knows you let her down.

I was afraid
.

You feel her body close to yours.

I’m still afraid
.

“Here we go,” the driver says as the cab comes to a stop.

You keep looking at Jasmine, then force a smile and give the guy a twenty.

You open the door and watch Jasmine climb out. She stands and looks at the hotel building.

“Times Square, huh?”

“Nice when you don’t have to pay for it,” you say.

“Are we going up?”

“Come on.”

You lead her through the lobby and to an elevator.

You press your floor number. The inches that separate the
two of you almost seem awkward, unnecessary.

Jasmine moves closer to you.

You take her hand in yours again. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Sure about that?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“I know a way I can be very okay.”

You don’t know if you’ve ever seen a look like that coming from another woman. Perhaps it’s her staggering beauty or perhaps it’s the look of desire and lust on her face. Perhaps it’s all of these things and the end of a very long and exhausting night and perhaps it’s because you want and need her and feel like you’re five minutes away from losing any control you have.

The elevator doors open.

Do you really want to do this?

You don’t want to listen to yourself or to anybody else.

It’s a hotel in another city and nobody is going to know.

God will know
.

But is God going to care? When has he been caring recently and why will he suddenly decide to care now?

You walk down to your hotel room and without a thought slip in the key. The signal sounds its entrance.

“After you,” you tell her.

She walks in and you close the door behind you.

All alone.

Just the two of you.

It all comes down to this.

T
HE HOTEL ROOM FEELS VERY DIFFERENT
.

You sit against the edge of the bed. Jasmine walks past, first looking out the window, then glancing around the room.

Your small black suitcase is packed and ready to go. The only thing you will throw in there is your toiletries bag. Your black leather briefcase holds your computer and iPod and Palm Pilot, waiting to be turned on.

Jasmine slips off her light coat, rests it on the chair, then turns around. You see her bare arms, long and perfect, a light and creamy color. Her silk plunging camisole reveals a lot. The jeans she wears look painted on. She glides closer to you and smiles.

She doesn’t say a word. But her eyes say it all.

This time it’s real.

She is not a nameless face on a magazine or a computer screen. She breathes and talks and looks at you. There is real emotion on her face. Desire, confidence, mischief, even a slight taunt.

She takes your hand.

You know better Michael you know better than this you can’t do this there are consequences
.

And you think of those faces and bodies you’ve seen too many times. Nameless. Mindless.

Each one is someone’s daughter. Someone’s love.

Each one is someone.

You have programmed yourself to think of this as being fantasy, as being make-believe.

“It’s okay, Michael,” she says, standing over you, holding your hands.

Her voice shows a hint of … what? What can it be?

Fear
.

But a fear of what? Fear of moving ahead? Fear of being intimate? Fear of

rejection
.

You pull back.

“You’re shaking,” she says.

And you look at your hands. You think of your ring, which is on the desk and not where it should be.

“We shouldn’t—”

“Yes, we should,” Jasmine says.

“You should probably go.”

“Michael, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s
so
fine. Just come here. Don’t worry—”

You stand up, then start to back away.

“You have to leave,” you tell her.

“We just got here.”

“I know, but—”

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Nobody is going to know,” she says in what is barely more than a whisper.

Sometime, maybe hours ago, you left reality behind. You left context and motive behind. Tonight you’ve been running on adrenaline and desire.

It’s so strong and so overwhelming and I don’t know if I can control it
.

Because it’s here, right now, right here in front of you.

But you can’t. And you won’t.

“Jasmine, please.”

She slides up to you, against you, and for another moment you wrap your arms around her.

Nobody will ever know
.

But that’s not the point.

Nobody will ever care
.

But you will because you know better.