Stocks & Blondes
30
It’s not me, it’s you
I WAS DRUGGED, humiliated, chased, and strangled. And now you’re telling me what? Doesn’t it ever end?
I’m out of the hospital. Cinnamon, bless her heart, was there with me the entire time. I’ve got bandages and salve for my rope burns on both my neck and my left hand. The doctors say I might carry this scar for the rest of my life. So much for being a blank canvas on which to paint a character. I don’t really know if I want to do this anymore. I sound like a wimp. I’ve been doing it on my own for two whole months now. Do I really want to quit?
Deceit and deception
Cinnamon brought me home and Maizie came to greet me. I think she likes me better in the blonde wig than the brunette. Cinnamon came in with me to make sure I had everything I wanted. The rest of the women have been arrested, so it seemed I should be pretty safe.
“You know, I’m kind of digging this detective stuff. Will you help me get a license?” she asked.
“If that’s what you want to do, I think you’d make a hell of a detective,” I said. “There could be a partnership in the making.”
“Well, Jordan says I should go back to school for a couple of terms with Lars. I’ve got to learn how to create a false identity as good as yours,” she said. “I don’t know if I could stand not being blonde, though! I’ll see you in the morning, Sugar. I need to get my beauty sleep.” She kissed me on the cheek and headed out the door.
Maizie stood in front of Dag’s chair and whined until I sat in it. Then she hopped up in my lap and started licking my face. It was so sweet I cried and, of course, Maizie licked all the tears away. I can see why Dag liked this chair so much. It just makes the day melt away. I fell asleep in the chair with Maizie in my lap. When I woke up, it was dark outside, meaning it was after five in Seattle. Maizie was still in my lap and so was this gray cat. Where did it come from? Apparently, Maizie had adopted it. I’d have to talk to Mrs. Prior about it in the morning.
It wasn’t long after that when he knocked on my door. I so desperately wanted to see him and so dreaded it that I was frozen in place for a few seconds. Finally, I opened the door and he just swept me into his arms and hugged me. All the fear melted away and I just wanted to stay in that embrace forever.
He came in and we made chitchat while I fixed some tea. He asked if I was okay about fifty times and I finally pulled the bandage away from my neck and showed him. I think he almost threw up. I know I did the first time I looked at it in a mirror. And, little bitch that I am, I was thinking that if he was that concerned, why didn’t he come and visit me in the hospital? At the same time, I was still scared of the lecture he’d give me about deceiving him and relationships built on trust. The question—or accusation—never came.
The longer it went, the more guilty I felt and then I got really irritated with the guy because he should have been criticizing me. I was sitting there getting more and more upset with him just because he wasn’t getting upset with me. I deserved to be raked over the coals but he wasn’t doing it. I was about to explode and didn’t have a single reason to do so.
No reason if you don’t count having nearly been strangled to death by would-be porn kings. Oh, my God! Did they broadcast that? I suddenly had a blinding image of myself stripped in all my bald naked glory being broadcast across the internet for perverts to jack off to while I was choking to death.
Who gets turned on by watching someone die? I watched the video of Georgia dying and there was nothing erotic or sexy about it. I nearly died with a rope around my neck and I did not feel the least bit turned on by it. There was never going to be a death throes orgasm. I was going to wipe the internet of this scum.
I just blew up. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t logical. And it came from someplace inside that I didn’t know existed.
“Would you just say it?” I screamed. “I lied to you. I pretended to be someone I’m not. I betrayed your trust and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to but I couldn’t not do it. I can’t even promise I won’t do it again. That’s the real me. The real me is someone who isn’t me at all. It’s just a collection of wigs and makeup and fake ID. So, arrest me! Yell at me. Be mad. I deserve it.”
Damn! I was being unreasonable and defiant and I was yelling and I was crying. I felt so miserable I wished I’d just given up and died in that house. And he wasn’t rising to the bait. What kind of cop is so docile that he takes all that abuse and just sits there? And cries. Oh God, yes. There were tears in his eyes.
“Deb, please,” he said. “I understand all that. I understand deep cover and not being able to tell anybody who you really are. I don’t care about the disguise. Jordan explained to me that you were doing undercover work for FinCEN.” That was news to me. Yes, I’d sent all the evidence I gathered on the tax evasion and money laundering off to Jordan as soon as I discovered it, but I didn’t expect him to come to my defense with Tom. I was so surprised I couldn’t say anything in response. I guess that’s a good thing.
“What amazes me is how you were able to play both roles,” Tom continued. “I can’t compartmentalize. I’m afraid that if I show one little bit of what’s really me, it will all be over. I’ll never be able to go back. You had an anchor. You could come out of disguise and be you. I know it was really you when we went out. It makes me so ashamed of my inability to handle it.” How did he do that? A minute earlier, it was about me being a lying cheat and all of a sudden, he was feeling ashamed of how he… how he handles what?
“I don’t want to go here,” I said, panicking. “If you forgive me, then let’s just… let’s just go to bed and have sex.” God! Is that the plea of a desperate woman or not?
“I can’t,” he said simply.
“What? Now that you’ve seen the whole package laid out in front of you, am I that disgusting? It’s called Alopecia. I’m allergic to my own hair. I can’t grow any anyplace on my body. I’ll keep a wig on. You don’t have to look at my bald head.”
“Wait. I don’t care about hair. It’s not you, it’s me.” Is there any possible triter, more overworked cliché on earth? Oh, please. I was exhausted. I just wanted to collapse. “I’ve been lying to you, Deb. Worse than what you did. You at least showed me the real you. I haven’t even had the courage to let you peek inside at who I am.”
“What? You aren’t a cop? You’re really a secret porn king? You do drugs? What could be so bad?”
“I’m gay.”
That just hung there in the middle of the room and stared at both of us. Handsome, charming, loves to dance, complimented my shoes. Why didn’t I see this coming from the start? Probably loves Bette Midler.
“I’ve never told anyone. I’ve never had a male lover. I’ve dated women and even had sex and hated myself the whole time. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t think it would go anywhere or that we’d get so emotionally involved with a case that exposed our vulnerabilities. I don’t think I’d survive on the police force if they knew.”
“Don’t tell me the police force has a don’t ask, don’t tell policy,” I said.
“There’s policy and there’s practice. I’d get more respect among the guys if I was doing porn than if I told them I was gay.”
“You just wanted to use me as cover?” I was overwhelmed. I flip-flopped between being furiously hurt at being used and being sympathetically understanding. Why shouldn’t he use me for cover? Hadn’t I used Cinnamon? We were having fun. He didn’t ask me to fall in love with him. It was all my fault. The bastard! That’s where this conversation started in the first place. Why couldn’t he have kept on lying and just told me he was disgusted with me. He could have stormed out. But not this.
“I didn’t want to use you at all. I thought we’d just…”
“Forget it, Tom. I can’t talk about it right now. Just go. We’ll get together for coffee this weekend. I just… I need to go to sleep now.”
He left. I swear I heard Maizie growl as he was on his way to the door. Good girl.
I can’t sleep. I can’t do anything. Maizie has been prodding me for a bedtime walk so we’re going out. The skies are clear and the wind is calm, but it’s colder than hell. I know.
Every tear freezes on my cheeks.
THE END
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