Alex in Wonderland (The Wonderland Series Book 1) (18 page)

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Close and
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Personal

Louisiana
wasn’t nicknamed “Sportsman’s Paradise” for nothing. The
state’s waterways were dotted with thousands of fishing camps providing access
to abundant aquatic life in lakes, rivers and bayous. Typically they were
rustic shacks perched atop pilings, accessible only by boat or narrow
boardwalks, and often without indoor plumbing. The Spivey camp, however, was
anything but typical.

Nestled alongside the
picturesque if occasionally unruly Tchefuncte
River, it was a handsome raised Louisiana
cottage with every imaginable amenity. When Cleve Spivey gathered his buddies
for a weekend of fishing, he offered much more than bait and beer. The bar was
stocked with top shelf liquors, and each of the four bedrooms boasted
comfortable beds and private baths. The boathouse held a sleek Pro-Line
fishboat with the latest gadgets for finding fish, and the state-of-the-art
kitchen included a chef to broil, bake, stuff or fry it.
Camilla’s
mother, Ivy (who had the misfortune to marry a man with the surname Spivey),
had tallied the trees and one-upped Margaret Mitchell by dubbing the house
Thirteen Oaks.
Luckily, the rest of the family didn’t share her
pretensions and called it simply The Camp.
  

As Alex eased the car
along the curving drive, he spotted a battered pick-up truck and a couple of unsavory-looking
characters in undershirts and worn jeans slouching beneath one of
Ivy’s
numbered oaks. One was short and beefy, the other tall
and thin, and they boasted a collective nine tattoos. They revealed an equal
number of missing teeth when they gawked and grinned as the Lamborghini hummed
to a halt. Alex was disgusted, but Jolie, always the pragmatist, insisted that
these shrimpers-cum-hustlers had potential. He peered over the tops of designer
sunglasses and pursed his lips.

"The shorter one reminds
me of a big hunk of andouille sausage!”

"You'd better give
your Dolce & Gabbanas a good cleaning, my friend."

"Nonsense. Given a
few improvements here and there—"

"You mean baths,
blindfolds and blood tests?"
  

“Mmmm. I suppose you're
right," Jolie said as the scissor wings hummed forward and up. Never shy,
he beckoned assistance. “How about a helping hand, young man?”

“Sure,” replied the
stocky one.

“You must be Rodney’s
friends,” Jolie said as he was hoisted from the low-slung car.

“Yeah. I’m Cletis, and
this here’s Dooley.”

“Nice to meet you I’m
sure,” Jolie said. “I'm Jacques, and this is Alexander. His girlfriend is the
young lady you two gentlemen have been engaged to, uh, entertain.”

Dooley chuckled. “That a
polite way of saying ‘fuck’?”

“Call it what you wish,”
Jolie conceded.

“You want a tape too,
eh?” Dooley gave Alex a lewd wink while rearranging the crotch of his jeans.
“Right?”

Alex tried not to laugh.
“Uh, right.”

“Well, you’ve come to the
right place, man. Me and Cletis are pros at this kinda stuff.

Matter of fact—”

“We’re well aware of your
credentials,” Jolie interrupted, taking charge again. “Shall we discuss the
details?”

“Yes, sir,” Cletis
answered politely, clearly the brighter of the two. “I’ve got some questions.”

“Nothing of a personal
nature I trust,” Jolie said.
  

“We don’t give a shit
about nobody’s personal bizness,” Cletis grunted. “I just wanna get the money
out of the way. Mr. Milliken guaranteed a thousand up front and a thousand
after you see the pictures, right?”

“Right.” Jolie counted
out ten crisp hundreds and passed them to Cletis. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Cletis gave
Dooley his cut and said, “Let’s take a look at your equipment and then see what
kind of set-up we got inside.”

Despite his Neanderthal
demeanor, Cletis, to Alex’s relief and surprise, proved remarkably
professional. He was familiar with both camera phone and camcorder and deftly
showed how Alex to use the latter. He then adjusted the lighting in the master
bedroom and tilted the shutters just enough to give Alex discreet filming
access.

“You shoot from there and
I’ll shoot from over here. That way we’ll cover all the angles.”

“Fine.” Alex relaxed a
little as Cletis paced off the room again. “Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah,” Cletis grunted.
“Once you see us getting busy, tell your buddy Jack to give me a call.” He
rattled off his cell phone number to Jolie. “That’ll be my excuse to use the
camera phone and get some close-ups of Dooley and your girlfriend. What’s her
name again?”

“Camilla.”

“Camilla,” Dooley
drawled, lending it an especially lascivious spin.. “It oughta be a no-brainer,
man.”

“I hope so.”

Alex battled a rush of
nausea. From the beginning, he'd been upset by the prospect of debasing a woman
and kept telling himself that Camilla had lied about her chastity while
screwing untold numbers of men like these two leering letches. If she hadn't
created this situation, he thought, I'd never have found myself in such a
disgusting predicament. It helped a little as he swallowed the bile rising in
his throat.

“I’d better move the car
before she gets here.”

Cletis jerked a thumb
over his shoulder. “There's plenty of room behind that boathouse.”

“Thanks,” Alex managed.
“We’ll wait there until she’s inside the house.”

“Cool.” Dooley cocked his
head and gave Alex a crooked grin. "Hey, maybe the four of us can party
after we're done with this Camilla chick?”

“Yeah. Maybe so.” Alex
was appalled by the proposition but knew not to trouble the waters with so much
at stake. He mustered a tired smile. “Catch you later.”

Alex stashed the car and,
with Jolie in tow, stayed behind the boathouse until he heard the purr of a
familiar engine. He dared poke his head around the corner long enough to see
Camilla scramble out of a red sportscar and wave to Cletis and Dooley.

“I’ll be damned!” Alex
hissed to Jolie. “Daddy gave her my old Porsche and didn’t even tell me!”

“All in the family,”
Jolie whispered. “Now be still and watch what happens.”

“Hey, y’all!” Camilla
called cheerily.

“Fuck me!” Alex muttered
as he aimed the camcorder and focused. “Would you look at that get-up?!”

While Alex watched in
shock, Camilla climbed out of the Porsche and jiggled across the driveway in
skin-tight shorts, skimpy halter that barely contained ample breasts and the
kind of platform shoes none of her circle would be caught dead in. He never
imagined Camilla had such items in her wardrobe as he reluctantly registered
the naughty alter-ego Angelique so vividly described. Any and all doubts about
those raunchy tales evaporated when Camilla flashed her tits before crushing
them against Dooley and giving him a tongue-filled kiss. At the same time, she
told Cletis to get off the phone and helped herself to his crotch.

“I’m Camilla,” she said
when she finally came up for air. “Angelique’s not coming, but I’m sure we can
have a good time by ourselves. She said you two boys really know how to party,
and I can’t wait to—”

The rest of Camilla’s
conversation was lost as she unlocked the house with Cletis and Dooley trailing
like obedient puppies. When loud rock music startled an egret from Oak Number
Eleven, Alex and Jolie sneaked around the house and hovered below the master
bedroom window. It was only a matter of minutes before they heard Camilla’s high-pitched
squeals and guessed correctly that the action had shifted into high gear. When
the erotic noises grew hot and heavy, Alex ventured a peek through the slit
between the shutters. He was mesmerized by what could only be described as a
live sex show.

“Damn, Jolie!” he
breathed. “You won’t believe this!”

“Don’t talk!” Jolie
hissed back. He tapped the camcorder in Alex’s hand. “Get busy!”

Alex forced himself to
concentrate on taping and ignore what he was seeing, especially the identities
of the parties involved. Cletis and Dooley stood by the side of their bed,
trousers open, endowments every bit as spectacular as Rodney Milliken promised.
Naked as the day she was born and obviously enthralled by her oversized boy
toys, Camilla paid them luscious and very noisy lip service while Alex, after
bringing his shaking hands under control, caught the action on tape. While
working hard to whet Camilla's appetite for more, Cletis glanced at the window
a couple of times, assuring himself Alex was in place. At just the right
moment, he urged Dooley to climb into the saddle, and as his buddy pumped away,
a strong glare was Jolie’s cue to phone.

To Alex’s amazement,
Camilla never flinched when Cletis’s cell phone rang. She remained oblivious
while he answered and carried on a fake conversation while clicking away with
the camera. From his vantage point, Alex was certain Cletis was getting the
incriminating shots. What impressed him even more was the way Cletis maneuvered
to entertain Camilla while continuing his conversation. In fact, nobody in the
bedroom missed a single stroke.

Eventually Camilla’s
orgasmic screams emptied all thirteen oaks of egrets, but the show was far from
over. Dooley had no sooner finished than Cletis closed the camera phone and
scrambled to take his place. Alex got that on tape too, but when Dooley and
Cletis traded places yet again Alex decided he’d seen more than enough and
motioned Jolie to follow him to the car.

“May as well get back to
town,” he said. “That damned music is so loud they’ll never hear this engine.”

“What about Dooley?”
Jolie teased. “He said he wanted to party some more after Camilla left.”

“Very funny,” Alex said.
“Besides, I’m sure Camilla’s gonna wear those guys out. I never thought I’d see
a nymphomaniac in action, but damn!” He made a face as he swallowed another
assault of bile.

“Are you okay?” Jolie
asked.

“I guess so. This whole
business is just so…so nasty.”

“And you know it’s gonna
get even nastier.”

“Yeah, I do.” Alex
started the car. “I think I better go somewhere to clear my head before sending
Daddy his little surprise package.”

Jolie was instantly on
the scent. “Going back to the Keys?”

“You know me too well.”

Jolie patted his knee.
“I’m glad you want to patch things up with Cord, but shouldn’t you talk to him
first instead of just appearing on his doorstep?”

“I don’t think so. Even
though we parted on such awful terms, I have a real strong feeling about this.”

Jolie looked anything but
optimistic. “I hate to play the cautionary Greek chorus, but what if he doesn’t
want to see you?”

“What are you talking
about, Jolie? Of course he will.”

Jolie tried another tack.
“What about your father? Won’t he think you’re flying the coop again?”

Alex thought a moment,
then brightened. “Not if I use the company plane and take Mother along.”

Jolie frowned. “How do
you plan to pull that off,
bébé
? Karen’s a pretty cool cookie, but she’s
still in the dark about Cord, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but I’ll think of
something to tell her. Now let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Jolie knew the subject
was closed when Alex stopped the car at the entrance to the driveway and played
back his amateur porn video. His first zoom had been successful, yielding a

crystal
clear shot of Camilla accommodating Dooley’s super-sized unit. There was no
mistaking her identity or her appetite.

“Jeez Louise!”

Jolie grunted. “I’m sure
I don’t want to see.”

“No, you don’t, and
neither will Miss Camilla.” Alex chuckled. He peered closer at the tiny screen
and shook his head. “Man, oh, man! This is one close-up she’s definitely not
ready for, Mr. DeMille.”

Jolie braced himself as
Alex revved the Lamborghini and left a long trail of rubber near the entrance
to Thirteen Oaks. “Nor, I suspect, is
le tout La Nouvelle-Orléans.”

“We’ll find out soon
enough.”

31

All
Keyed Up

Alex peered out the plane window.
Twelve thousand feet below, a silvery Gulf of Mexico
sparkled beneath the early June sunlight. An hour out of New
Orleans it stretched to infinity in all directions,
and he found the vista oddly comforting, liberating even, as did his mother’s
presence in the seat beside him. He felt a sudden rush of affection.

“You’re being a really good sport
about this, Mom. I mean, not asking a lot of questions about this trip.”

“I'm just thrilled you asked me to
tag along," Karen said, eyes twinkling. “I can’t remember when I’ve been
so excited about a trip, doubly so since I know it’s making you happy too.”

Alex leaned over and kissed her
cheek. “One of these days I’ll tell you everything.”

“Sooner rather than later, I hope.”

“I promise.” For the first time in
his life, Alex actually believed what he was saying. “I also promise I know
what I’m doing.”

“If I didn’t believe that, I
wouldn’t be here, son.”

“I know, Mom. Thanks.”

Alex was relieved but not surprised
when his mother asked no more questions. She had not only agreed to his
suggestion of a couple of days in Key West
but claimed it was her idea when she phoned his father at work. Sumner knew it
was important because, at his request, she never called him at work.

“We’ve all been under a tremendous
amount of pressure, Randolph, and I
think a few days in the tropics will do us a world of good.”

“Why not visit your mother on St.
Bart's?”

Karen thought fast. “She’s in New
York shopping for a gown for the wedding, and besides
I want some time alone with Alex. He’s been so distant after that dreadful
incident.”

Sumner was suspicious. “Why Key
West? The kid was just down there.”

“Why not?” Karen countered. “It’s
close, and we can stay at that fabulous hotel you’re always promising to take
me to.”

Karen had dispensed just the right
dose of guilt, and since Sumner was bogged down in a dicey board meeting, he
didn’t question her further. “Alright then. You two run along and have a good
time.”

“Will you arrange for the plane?”

“Sure.”

Wouldn’t Daddy have a fit, Alex
thought, if he knew he was facilitating a rendezvous with my male lover?

The irony gave Alex a special
satisfaction as the plane soared south at three hundred miles per hour, and his
contentment deepened when he imagined, for the thousandth time, how exciting it
would be to see Cord again and be wrapped in those strong arms. He had thought
of little else since deciding to make the trip and dismissed Jolie’s warning
that he should give Cord advance notice. It’s not going to matter, he thought.
We promised we loved each other, and that will fix everything, especially now
that I know Cord wasn’t after the ransom.

Still—

Looking due south, Alex found a
sprinkling of clouds on the horizon, long stretches of white marring an
otherwise perfect azure sky. Corny as it was, he couldn’t help thinking there
were also a few clouds hanging over his reunion with Cord. If all went well
with his plan to expose Camilla’s peccadilloes and force his father to break
the engagement, Alex would be freed of all commitments, but how long before the
ever-controlling Sumner brokered another marriage for his only son and heir?
The solution Jolie relentlessly advocated was for Alex to tell his parents he
was gay and face the consequences. Just last night, wearied by Jolie’s
well-intentioned berating, Alex finally capitulated and promised to come clean
when he returned to New Orleans.
Jolie did his best to assure Alex that he couldn’t eke out a living on his own,
but was only partly successful in defusing the poor guy's crippling self-doubt.
As that dark cloud came back to haunt him, Alex closed his eyes and prayed that
once he was back with Cord their unique magic would return and together they
could hammer out a solution.

He found some solace in his
favorite song from
The Lion King
and ran the lyrics through his
head.
 

“Like dark turning into day,
somehow we’ll come through.

“Now that I’ve found you, love
will find a way.

“I know love will find a way.”

Like one of those tunes that
permeate the brain and refuse to leave, the lyrics were still threading through
Alex’s thoughts as the plane touched down at Key West
International Airport
shortly after
noon
. Sumner Oil had
reserved a limo to take them to the Pier House on

“Call my cell if you need me,” Alex
said as he tucked her in the limo and kissed her good-bye. “I’ll be back in time for supper."

As soon as the limo pulled away,
Alex raced to retrieve the rental car he’d booked, got directions to Sugarloaf
Key and drove east. By the time he reached Cord’s father’s house, his palms
were damp and his heart thumped in his throat He calmed down when he saw the
little cottage where he had experienced so much joy and freedom, but as he cut
the engine and got out he sensed a pall hanging over the place. He steeled
himself and walked to the front door. It swung open before he could knock and
he was hit in the face with the stink of whiskey and old sweat.

“What the hell do you want?”

Alex swallowed and stepped back.
“Mr. Foster?”

“Who the hell wants to know?”

Alex tried to keep his composure as
he absorbed the image of the man who had made Cord’s childhood a living
nightmare. Except for shortness of stature and piercing eyes, Frank Foster
looked nothing like his robust son. Bald and wiry, his face was pocked with gin
blossoms and his body was wracked by a lifetime of alcoholism. His stale smell
and rumpled clothing announced he was in the midst of a colossal bender.

“I’m a friend of Cord’s,” Alex
said.

Foster snorted and swigged from a
plastic mug. “Fucking faggot!”

Alex’s face blazed at the despised
epithet. “Is he here?”

“Shit, no!” the man spat. “I threw
his ass out when I found out he was queer!”

Stay focused, Alex told himself. Don’t
let this bastard make you loose your cool.

“Do you know where I can find him?”

When Foster’s eyes narrowed like a
predator, Alex caught a glimpse of what had terrified Cord and his family. The
hideous image made Alex want to beat this pitiful excuse for a human being to a
pulp, but he reminded himself this was not why he was there. He took a deep
breath and repeated his question.

“I might,” Foster replied after
another long swig.

Alex’s mind raced as he sought and
found a way out of this cat-and-mouse game. “I owe Cord some money,” he lied.

“Well, then, young man,” Foster
said, greed spreading across his maroon face. “Just give it to me, and I’ll see
that he gets it.”

When pigs fly, Alex thought. “I’m
afraid I can’t do that.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a wad of
bills brought along for the trip. He dangled it in Foster’s face, actually
enjoying the look of unbridled avarice. Money is power, his father was fond of
saying, and in this case Alex agreed. “But if you tell me his whereabouts I can
certainly make it worth your while.”

Foster was practically salivating
at the sight of so much money. “Uh, sure. He moved down to Key
West. I’ve got his address somewhere.” Alex waited
while Foster stumbled back inside his cottage and, after a great deal of
racket, reappeared with the information.

“

“Fuck you!” Alex snarled.
“Goddamned child beater!”

“Wha…what?”

“You heard me, you sorry bastard!”

A look of incredulity flashed
across Foster’s face as the ancient rage shot to the surface and drove him for
revenge. Alex deftly stepped aside as the old man lurched from the porch, lost
his balance and landed face down in the yard. Foster’s nose exploded with blood
as he struggled to his feet, reeled blindly and fell again. Disgusted by the
spectacle, Alex climbed into his rental car and drove away, but not before
treating himself to a final satisfying glance in the rear view mirror. He never
imagined he could derive pleasure from seeing an elderly man sprawled helpless
and bleeding, but he could only think what goes around comes around. How many
times had Cord and his brother been in that same predicament?

“Serves you right, asshole!”

Alex found a map of Key
West in the side pocket and discovered that

He parked across the street, got
out and approached the dense undergrowth. A strange whirring, metallic sound
penetrated the hot stillness, and Alex paused when he glimpsed a half-naked
figure through the leaves. He caught his breath when he recognized Cord
wielding an old-fashioned push lawnmower. Shirtless, body gleaming with sweat,
he was, for Alex, more irresistible than ever.

“Dear God!” Alex murmured. “How
could I have been such a fool?”