I lie down on the bed. My bed. The hustle and bustle of Brooklyn drown out the nerves and shock of what I just saw on the news as I settle into my own place. It’s early afternoon, but being home is so relaxing after weeks flying from place to place. At least, it should be.
All I wanted to do was come home after a grueling three weeks away. Milan and Tokyo were nice, but I rather detest the thought of going out in public in a foreign place. Flying us back to the United States, it was Malibu, Jackson Hole, then Denver. All places that Irina was working, all places that felt filthy and dirty. All the places I wanted to rid the vileness from.
Coming home is supposed to be consoling. Solace. Especially with my own church and priest just across the street. It’s familiar. Comfortable.
Instead, I see pictures from a sketch artist. I know what they call me. I know it comes from the messages I leave. But today, they gave me a face to go along with the name. They’ve given me an identity. And while it only looks likes me from a certain point of view, the fact still remains that there is a resemblance that I’m not comfortable with. I need more time to complete my mission before someone dares tell me that my time is up.
I’ll admit, I’m getting a little scared of the possible repercussions of my actions. To say that I’m not a little nervous of my acts would be to say that I’m above Him and His. He gave me free will and choice, and while I choose to do what He requires, I also choose the fact that I’m human and I will have human reactions. Ones I confess to a priest, but ones that let me feel that my time on this earth won’t be for much longer.
I’ll ascend to a higher place with Him.
I’ll be free of this body and take my rightful place next to Him.
A ringing brings me back to this world, and I let out a groan. Even more so when I see it’s Irina calling me. I bite back a lustful call when I see her photo and the bright blue eyes staring back at me.
“Hello, Irina.” I cringe at the breathy sound of my words. How He could pick someone like her for me, I’ll never know, nor will I question why. All I know is I feel elated when I hear her voice.
“Steve, are you home right now?” Her voice sounds off, almost cautious. Soft.
“I just got in. Is everything okay?”
“George and I have a few things we need to discuss. Do you mind if we stop by?”
“Here? Now?” I hear the rise in pitch as I look around my place. It’s nothing fancy. A simple loft in Brooklyn where I try to live a modest life. Minimal, even. I don’t usually dwell on these kinds of things but there’s something about her being here that makes me wish I were a little greedier.
I brush the thought away, reminding myself to repent for it later.
“Yes, if that’s okay? We’re about five minutes away. We won’t stay long; we have a meeting to get to.”
I feel my throat bob as both fear and excitement run rampant inside me when I tell her yes, then hang the phone up.
It takes no time at all before I hear a knock on my door. When I slide the door open, the natural honey-blonde beauty and her manager stand before me.
“Come in.” I pull the door open a little more, and they walk in. George takes a seat on the worn navy couch while Irina stares out the window with her arms crossed over her denim-clad chest.
“You’ve got a lovely view of Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge, Steve. Especially that park down below, the one next to the cathedral.”
I know exactly which one she’s talking about. A park I’ve spent many an afternoon sitting in after spending time at the church next door.
“How can I help you, Irina?” She turns around, focusing on me. I’ve never seen her look this worried and something inside makes my heart race. It’s not her own insecurities I’m channeling, but the fact that the news and police are starting to make connections. Maybe her too.
“I’ll let George explain.” She takes a seat next to him on the couch, me falling to the matching loveseat that sits adjacent to it.
“Well, first let me say this is to stay between Tank and us. He would have come with us, but he’s gathering extra security for Irina. We’re only telling you because as Irina’s pilot, we’re going to want you to keep an unsuspecting eye out for us.”
My eyes dart between the two of them when George mentions Irina’s head of security.
“What George is trying to say is that we think I have a stalker. A super fan trying to prove a point. And in order to stop the man, we have to keep this to as few people as possible. I told George that I trust you.”
I let out a relieving a breath, when I realize this isn’t about me. “What do you mean?”
George lets out a sigh as Irina nods at him. “This man they call The Judge, you’ve seen and heard about him on the news? That murderous asshole who has been leaving death and destruction and mayhem in his wake?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to restrain from yelling out in anger. It takes every ounce of my being to stop myself from strangling the man. Anger turns to fear which leads to caution when I realize that they might suspect me after all. Instead, I swallow the very bitter lump in my throat and tightly nod my head so George can continue.
“We fear he may be someone connected to Irina. It’s no surprise that almost every major city that we’ve hit over the last year has been a target. We’ve been so wrapped up in Irina’s career, traveling around the world, hitting every major city from Los Angeles to Milan, that we didn’t pay attention to the facts.
“Fact is, this guy is attacking people in cities Irina is currently in. Fact is, he’s got these places scouted out and with a dangerous plan meaning that he knows our schedule. Fact is, whoever this person is, he’s part of the Irina Alexander team, whether it’s hair, makeup, wardrobe, or nutrition. We’re tightening security on every member of the team.”
He takes a deep breath, and I feel myself relaxing, only a little. This isn’t about me, per se. It’s about the fact that she thinks someone close to her is ridding the world of the unclean, for all the wrong reasons. The only thing that concerns me is being on a leash with security. I can’t have someone following my every move, especially for the sake of the mission.
“Tank is updating security without actually alerting them as to the reasons why. We’re going to nip this in the bud privately and gather information before handing anything over to the police. Probably not smart on our end but with Irina being the highest paid supermodel, her name and reputation can’t be tarnished by this asshole, Steve. Her name connected to his? It’s not good.” A beeping goes off on George’s phone and he looks down to his lap before turning it off. “Dammit, we have to go, Steve, but please keep this quiet.”
“And keep your eye out if you see anything suspicious. I really appreciate it.” Irina stands up and starts for the door. I follow behind them until I can open the sliding door.
“Thanks again, Steve.” Irina leans over and places a kiss on my cheek.
“No problem,” I mutter, wide-eyed, as they walk down the hallway and disappear down the stairs.
I shut the door but it doesn’t remain closed for long. I grab my sunglasses, phone, and wallet and I scramble down the stairs once I know that Irina and George have left. I walk outside just as their driver speeds off with them inside and I race across the street to St. Andrews Catholic Church.
I’ve not been the perfect servant lately, but now that changes. No more lusting, no more impure thoughts, and no more being afraid of what He has planned for me. I’m one hundred percent devoted to Him and His cause.