Page 93 of Savage Roses
“I’ve been set up. They… they set me… I should’ve…” He sighs.
“I won’t be able to help you unless we have full transparency. That’sifI’m able to help you at all. Who is they?”
He glances around as if we’re being spied on. “The Neptune Society.”
Of course. I should’ve figured.
“I see.”
“Those parties. They’re… they’re designed to get you into trouble. They intentionally lure members with different kinds of temptations.”
“Joseph, with all due respect, you are a fully-functioning adult, are you not? Do you not possess free will? Are you not able to make your own decisions at your age? Youarethe deputy mayor of the city.”
He flinches as if I’ve struck him. His eyes squeeze shut. “I did resist. I did make my own decisions. I tried very hard, Ernest! But what can I say? After a while… they got me. I made a mistake.”
The way he drifts off there, his round cheeks blushing bright, tells me it’s something humiliating. Something that’s probably enough to end his career.
I’m not sure I even want to know—I’ve heard rumors of what goes on there. The prostitution and other niche services that play into fantasies many would be too ashamed to ever admit to in the light of day. Much darker things that some have alleged, though no direct proof exists.
With another swallow of coffee, I say, “Go on. Again, full transparency is needed.”
“I… I have partaken in the Mill. Just a time or two.”
“The Mill?”
“It’s what they call…” His broad, penguin-shaped chest rises and falls from his next deep inhale of breath. “It’s what they call the place you go to purchase sexual experiences. I have participated with a couple of the women for sale.”
My expression and tone remain neutral. “I see. So, you had sex with prostitutes. How many?”
“That’s, uh, that’s not it.”
“Joseph, what the hell did you do?”
He winces despite the fact I haven’t raised my voice. “They let you make special requests.Veryspecific requests. They have it all. Anything you could ask for. So much variety you’d never get sick of the selection.”
“I don’t care to hear about all the different prostitutes they have for sale—”
“Including those that might be a little… younger if you catch my drift.”
Silence takes the place of our conversation for a moment that stretches on. He’s returned to choking himself by yanking on the wrong end of his tie and my expression has finally shifted from neutrality to disgust.
“Get out of my office,” I say.
“Ernest—”
“Get the hell out of my office!” I bark, leaping to my feet. “How dare you come to me expecting me to bail you out of such depravity? I am afather!”
Bernstein bursts into weeping tears. The pink on his skin darkens to red and he covers his face in shame, repeating, “I know, I know, I know.”
Over and over again he repeats it like a chant.
“If you’re expecting mercy, there is none to be had here. I want nothing to do with you. Get out of my office or I’ll call Erick the security guard up to haul you out. Mayoral candidate or not.”
“B-b-but—”
“OUT!” I roar with the ferocity of a lion in the jungle.
Bernstein practically falls out of his chair scrambling to make it happen. He trips over the leg of the chair and winds up on his hands and knees before he’s able to come to a wobbly stand. From within his suit jacket, he withdraws a black envelope with sapphire-blue embossing.