Page 4 of My Craving

He snorts. “That’s what worries me.”

Laughing, I push through the front doors and wave over my shoulder. I’ve got things to do, people to see and one particular bastard to hunt down. I whistle an upbeat tune whose name I can’t remember as I make my way home.

I love my apartment. It’s on the fifteenth floor with an open floor plan and a wall of windows that floods the space with natural light. The city stretches out beneath me, but up here, the distance from the noise lets me almost forget how many people are below.

My grandmother left me a sizable inheritance when she passed away. God, I loved that woman. She was stubborn as hell, sharp-tongued, and never once let anyone tell her who she should be. Looking back, I’m pretty sure that’s where I inherited my sass. She’d probably deny it. Then call me a little shit for saying so.

The money she left wasn’t enough to make me rich, but it was enough to make me comfortable if I was smart with it. I invested well, lived within my means and made sure every dollar worked as hard as I did. More importantly, it gave me the freedom to walk away whenever I needed to.

I definitely wasn’t planning on staying at Murphy Enterprises this long. Almost six months now. I only took the job to gather information and get an up-close look at Bruce Davis.

I spent the first two months watching the piece of shit. I learned his habits, his schedule and who he spent his time with. People revealed a hell of a lot through ordinary office gossip, especially when they didn’t realize anyone was paying attention. I learned who he had lunch with, which meetings always seemed to run late and which assistants avoided being alone with him. Most people dismissed it as office drama. I listened.

Getting a job in the same building gave me a reason to be around without anyone questioning it. By the third month, I started flirting just enough to catch his interest. Bruce kept his attraction to men carefully hidden at work, bragging about women and his latest conquests whenever anyone else was around. The act disappeared as soon as we were alone. When he finally approached me, I knew I had him.

He had no problem meeting me at a secluded state park long after dark. I showed up with a blanket and a small bag of supplies, then told him I wanted him to chase me through the woods before taking me by force. The eager look on his face made my stomach turn. He didn’t hesitate or question why I would want something like that.

Bruce outweighed me by at least fifty pounds, and I had no intention of giving him the chance to use that advantage. If it came down to a fight near the cliff, either one of us could go over the edge.

Bringing his favorite bottle of wine was easy. A syringe through the cork let me add a paralytic without disturbing the seal, and the drug wouldn’t appear on a standard toxicology report.

Predictably, he poured himself a generous glass, then another. By the time it took effect, he couldn’t move. I watched the panic spread across his face as he tried anyway, then dragged him to the edge and let gravity do the rest.

I wonder what the almighty Murphys would say if they knew what kind of man had been collecting a paycheck from their company. I guess I’ll never know. Bruce Davis is permanently unemployed now, lying at the bottom of a ravine in Wissahickon Valley Park.

The police will probably call it an unfortunate hiking accident. People slip and fall all the time, and I’m not losing any sleep over this one.

After Bruce disappeared, leaving Murphy Enterprises immediately would have been stupid. He was officially a missing person, and walking away from my job right after he vanished would have given the police a reason to look at me more closely. So I stayed, kept showing up every morning and doing my job while I waited for enough time to pass that leaving wouldn’t attract attention.

When the police searched Bruce’s apartment, they found exactly what I’d hoped they would: photographs, trophies, and mementos from the men he’d hurt. There was enough evidence to expose what he’d been doing and finally give his victims some answers.

Bruce brings my thoughts back to Joey. He was five years younger than me, and Mom used to joke that she had twins born five years apart because we were so much alike. Even as a teenager, I never minded him tagging along with my friends and me. Joey fit in everywhere. We were a package deal.

I’ve always known I was gay, but I never saw the point in making a grand announcement about it. Straight people don’t gather the family together and declare they’re straight, so why should I?

Joey felt differently. At sixteen, he marched into the dining room, waited until Mom, Dad, and I were seated, then cleared his throat like he was about to address Congress.

“I have something important to tell everyone.”

Dad folded his newspaper. Mom looked instantly concerned. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Joey took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and announced, “I’m gay and proud of it.”

Dad slowly folded his newspaper. “Are you just now figuring that out?”

The confidence drained from Joey’s face. “What?”

“If I’d known you were still unsure, I could’ve told you when you were thirteen.” Dad glanced at me. “I knew your brother was gay when he was twelve.”

That did it. I burst out laughing while Joey stared at him in horror and Mom smacked Dad on the arm.

“What?” Dad looked genuinely confused by everyone’s reaction. “You can’t tell me Nash watched Supernatural twenty-four-seven just for the storyline.”

By then, I was laughing hard enough that Joey buried his face in his hands. Mom rolled her eyes while Dad looked around the table like he was the only sane person in the room.

“What? Jensen Ackles is a good-looking man.”

Joey groaned, and Dad went back to his newspaper as though he hadn’t just ruined what was supposed to be his youngest son’s dramatic coming-out announcement. Even now, it’s one of my favorite memories of the four of us together.